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siimjaeyun · 3 years

Text

Chapter 9: Vampires and Prison Visits

Synopsis: Out of nowhere, a vampire appears in Seoul looking to rob random objects that at first glance appear to have no connection. In the course of trying to figure out their intentions, you all find yourselves going to the local city prison where you meet one of the old members of Mystery Co.

Series Masterlist

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“Isn’t this charity just wonderful Shayla?” Mina Park, Jay and Y/n’s mother clasped her hands together as she saw the total money count raise slowly.

“I guess the auction seems to be going well.” Shayla, your mother’s friend responded with an almost dry smile.

“Next up, is this painting.” The lead host brought out a painting of a castle, that to be fairly honest, caught no intentions of being purchased.

“Do I hear $5….$4…$3…?” No hands went up, and soon the room went dark with a power outage. A large movement was heard in the crowd and when the lights had returned, they witnessed a figure standing in the corner of the room.

It was the vampire holding the once disregarded painting.

------

“If I knew Sunghoon was going to try to brag about his body, I would have worked out.” Jay observed as his friend slowly removed his shirt as if trying to prove a point.

“Don’t be jealous my dear friend, I’m just perfect.” He had absolutely no guilt as he threw Sunghoon into the pool; a small complaint exited from the members who were already in the pool.

“You almost made me drop my smoothie!” Sunoo splashed water at Sunghoon who seemed to be planning his revenge while looking at both Jay and Jake who were seated by the edge.

In the meantime, you were comfortably resting in the pool chair next to Heeseung who was rambling on about methods to trap an intruder who trespassed onto your home.

“This is a disaster!” Your mother walked into the back pool and waved her hands through her hair.

“What happened Mrs.Park?”

“A vampire is what happened. They ruined the charity.” Jake, who had managed to somehow become her favorite, handed her a drink to de-stress from the night’s incident.

“Hmm, maybe it’s worth a try investigating don’t you think?”

“Maybe, but I’d rather stay here y’know, just exist.” You ignored Heeseung’s request and grabbed your earbuds.

“Count me out too, Jay and I plan to just lay here, in the sun.” Jake and Jay found a comfortable seat on the chairs and sat back with their smoothies.

“You guys are lame. Come on guys.” Heeseung first tossed a spare shirt to Sunghoon, then hurried the younger trio into the van to find this new undead member.

------

“If you were a vampire, where would you visit?” Heeseung asked while keeping his focus on the road before him.

“The arcade!” Niki responded enthusiastically, which gained the approval of the other members in the van.

“The cemetery sounds like a great idea Niki!” He pushed on the accelerator and sent the boys on a fun trip. Seeing as walking in the dark with tombs was not enough of an adventure for the five of them, they made their way to the blood bank next.

Sunghoon became the new designated driver as he waited for the oldest friend to return from the clinic.

“What do you think the others are doing?”

What were you doing? Absolutely nothing.

Thanks to your family wealth, you, Jay, and Jake were laying down as three workers had come to give the three of you a massage. None of you paid much attention to the world around you, that is until you saw your mother place a coat around her shoulders on the way out.

“Hey Mom, where are you going?” She turned around abruptly and gave a nervous response.

“To...uhm...get some bacon, yeah.” Her two feet dragged her off which left both you and Jay to wonder about her sudden words.

“Something’s up, she knows she’s allergic to pork.” All of you paused your massages and followed her out the door. Your mother’s footsteps quickened as time went on, and turn after turn led you to lose track of her.

“H-how does she walk that fast?”

“She speed walks every morning, but look, the garden lights are on, maybe she’s there.” Jay pointed at the brightened sphere a couple blocks away, leading you towards it.

In the meantime, Heeseung had returned from his trip; shirt and face covered in a red substance.

“I-is that blood?” Jungwon retreated backwards as he saw Heeseung take a towel to wipe his face.

“Nah, the juice box exploded. Relax.” Sunghoon chuckled at his odd friend before his eyes became drawn by a light shining below them.

“The city garden lights are on, that’s weird.” Heeseung pushed Sunghoon back into the shotgun seat before taking in the same sight. Then a loud shriek escaped from the same city garden.

“Maybe our vampire is there, let’s go.”

-------

The team of five members had arrived; their shadows visible on the flowers and bushes present inside the garden.

“Let’s set a trap. Sunoo, climb on Niki’s shoulders.” Jungwon helped Sunoo up onto Niki’s shoulders to set up the net on one of the branches. When they finished, all five of them made their way to hide behind the set of bushes that were planted nearby.

You, Jay, and Jake had appeared at the city garden as well. Without a sign of your mother, it seemed an almost hopeless mission, or until you startled the five teens waiting.

“Lee Heeseung, put me down!” Heeseung came to his senses when your voice traveled to his ears. As fast as he could, he helped untie the ropes alongside Sunghoon, which caused your bundle to come crashing down.

“Are you okay?” Jake beat Heeseung towards extending a hand to pick you up from the ground, leaving Heeseung to glare as you smiled at Jake.

“What are you guys doing here anyway? I thought you didn’t want to come.” Sunoo asked as he leaned against the trees in the area.

“Jay and Y/n’s mom left suddenly and we thought it was suspicious. We thought she would be here, but guess not.” The light from a lantern suddenly shined on their silhouettes, and the caretaker of the area had suddenly appeared.

“You kids better get home, it’s late and you’re trespassing.” Without much thought you obeyed the orders, slowly trailing towards the exit when the vampire appeared while dangling off one of the tree branches. Their body was hunched and their fangs snapped at your body as it chased all of you down. Eight bodies sprinted around the area until you came down toppling and getting stuck in one of the nearby exhibits.

The vampire sneakily leaned on towards the glass and took hold of the orchid planted in the ground, and she left once more without a trace.

“Ahh shit.” A sole curse word left the lips of Sunghoon who saw himself as the base of this unexpected pyramid.

------

“Sunghoon’s mother probably has a lot of information on vampires.” Jungwon was the first to enter the shop taking in the familiar scene from his early middle school days.

“Hey kids, what brings you here?” Sunghoon’s mother waved at your group, motioning to come take a seat by the countertops.

“We were hoping to get more information on vampires, with the recent cases and all.”

“Of course, all of this section will have everything you’re looking for.” She signaled at the four book cases paired up right after another. While the other members started on the first book case, you noticed a shadow moving in the background. Your intuition let you follow it without much care, and it knocked over a book from the shelf. You picked it up and placed it back before it bounced back; it happened at least two more times.

“The answers you seek.”

You opened it up and found a magazine inside: How to Achieve Immortal Youth

“Look.” You tossed the magazine into Jungwon’s hands who read off slowly from the page.

“Want to achieve immortal youth? Mixing these ingredients into one smoothie will achieve just that...a painting...an orchid...wine from 1917...and the devil’s ruby.”

“Looks like someone didn’t get the memo about this being a prank.” Sunoo continued to flip through pages, and confirmed that it was just another teen gossip magazine.

“If our vampire is following this recipe, then their next ingredient is 1917 wine.” Jay stared at you, knowing very well where they could get such wine.

“Minnie’s Restaurant is the only place in town with this kind, we go there sometimes.” All of you stared at one another until you got pulled into the next stop.

Yes ladies and gentleman, Heeseung was going to sneak his friends inside the wine vault of an expensive restaurant.

His first plan was to get a table directly, sending Sunghoon, Jake, and Jay into the place dressed as businessmen.

When that failed, he tried shoving Sunoo, Niki, and Jungwon through the back window of the kitchen.

When that also failed, he managed to sneak all of the team through the excuse of needing to go to the bathroom.

“Did you really tell them I was seven?” Niki looked at the oldest with disbelief as they finally managed to go into the wine vault.

But you and Jay stayed back, catching your mother eating dinner with her friend Shayla.

“Come on, before that freak show arrives.” The eight of you continued to scrummage through the bottles of wine, continuous sounds of clinking were audible through the entire room.

All of the flames on the torches suddenly went out, and the gust of wind followed the vampire as it leapt through the building tops. It once more tracked you down and ended up trapping you inside a room after continuous running through the halls.

“One more to go, and I’ll be young!” Jungwon banged his head against the metal pipes and observed as the vampire escaped through the backdoor, again.

-------

“I heard the last person who saw the devil’s ruby is at the local state prison.”

“It must be in their custody so it’s best to make the trap there.” Heeseung commented as he finally parked the classic van next to the entrance of the prison.

After a cautious security examination, your group finally managed to enter the facility. In the course of talking to an officer, and a tune escaping from your locket, a sudden voice emerged from afar.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the new mystery co.?”

“He spoke.” The guard quickly took out his keys and opened the white cell door.

“Who did?” Jake tried getting a response from the guard, but managed nothing when all of you saw a man dressed in prison uniform looking at all of you directly.

“He’s Daniel Kim, the one who made those kids disappear, he has never talked until now.” You opened your locket and glanced back on the man.

“You’re one of the original members of Mystery Co.”

“That’s right, but if there is anything I have to say is that you’re close to finding out about the curse hidden behind Seoul...ahh...and sometimes you have to be careful of the people around you, especially you Lee Heeseung.” Daniel used his head to signal at Heeseung who tensed up at the man’s statement.

“Visiting hours are over, hurry on.” The cell door closed once more and all of you stood agape looking at each other.

“One mystery at a time. First the vampire, then this.” A deep sigh left all of you while you attempted to dangle ropes over the building.

-------

“Why are Sunoo, Jungwon, and Niki covered in garlic?” Sunghoon and Jay judged the appearance of their friends who stood by the doorway.

“You can never be too prepared.” Sunoo shrugged his shoulders and followed Jake into their designated place of hiding and waiting for the vampire.

“I don’t care who the vampire is as long as it’s not my mom.” You commented while Heeseung used his binoculars to stay on lookout.

“Come on, yeah she’s a little odd, but not a vampire.” He gave you a smile, and you shoved him slightly as you all kept waiting.

Eventually, the vampire lunged forward from the rooftop and tried to swing at the ruby before one of its arms got caught in the net. It let itself go and tried to pry at the ruby again before Niki and Jungwon shouted in terror as they dropped on top of the vampire, squishing whoever was in the set-up.

“That was not the plan, but sure.” All of you helped Jungwon and Niki up and placed zip ties around the creature’s wrist.

“You know mom, this isn’t cool.” Jay crossed his arms before his mother standing behind him startled him.

“Wait, if mom isn’t the vampire then…” He pulled off the rubber mask which revealed your mother’s friend Shayla instead.

“Shayla?”

“That’s right. As many may see, my young looks have been fading away, but your mother...your mother just still looks stunning so I figured the only answer must be that she’s a vampire. I was reading a magazine when I saw the recipe for the immortal youth juice, which would fix my problems. Using my degree in physical education, I was able to rely on my strength alone to give myself the flying appearance. And I would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for your young looking meddling mother!”

The police had arrived and meanwhile you and Jay gave your mother a hug.

“Wait, then why have you been sneaking off at night? For a moment, we thought you were a vampire.” Your mother just laughed at your question and gave you a slip of a paper.

“I’ve been doing night school, I just wanted it to be a surprise.” Cheers erupted from your mouths as you looked at her proudly; it was one of the calmest moments with your family in a while.

------

Alarms went off at the local state prison. Hues of red and blue glowed against the night sky while chaos emerged from the station as officers struggled to secure the site.

“Yes Chief, everyone has been accounted for. Well, except for one.” The officer on the phone stared at the open white cell door who was missing its captive.

Daniel Kim had escaped prison.

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Next- Chapter 10: Call of the Cicada

Taglist: @softkons @nikisboxysmile

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #heeseung #heeseung imagines #jake imagines #jungwon #niki #sunghoon #jay #enhypen jake #enhypen jay

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tloujm · 3 years

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Part XVII: Funnel of Love

Author’s Notes: Sorry it took so long.

Genre: Fluff + Angst = this chapter

Summary: This takes place right after the last chapter. The newly engaged couple share the news with their loved ones. The wedding planning pressure is on.

Ship: Joel x Reader

“Well, well, well. Big bro is doing it for real this time, huh.” Tommy began with a wide grin on his face. “Congratulations, Joel. I mean it. I always knew it was gonna be the two of you since the first day y’all showed up at the gates.” Joel relieved one of the watchtower guards so he could talk to Tommy about the proposal. They were both up in the small wooden shelter, rifles in hand, glancing between each other and the world beyond the gates.

“Thanks, brother.” Joel donned a bashful smirk.

“So do I get to be best man?” Tommy asked.

“Weren’t you already best man?” Joel countered.

“Yeah, but that time didn’t really count.” Tommy explained. Joel shot him a glare as a response to the dismissal of his first marriage. He knew that this time was different though, so he couldn’t blame him.

“‘Course you’re my best man.”

*****

“Joel? Miller? Of the infamous Miller brothers?” Jesse exclaimed.

“You knew we were together.” You said. Jesse was your closest friend at the settlement, therefore, he was the first person you told. You had reservations about sharing the news with him because, for a moment while you and Joel were broken up, you grew feelings for Jesse. It was something you never shared out loud or in your journal. Not sure of whether the feelings truly stemmed from Jesse himself or your emotions from Joel, you didn’t feel right giving weight to those thoughts. Despite Joel’s suggestion, you always figured Jesse’s feelings were purely platonic anyway.

“Yeah, I know. It just seems very official. I didn’t think people still did that these days.”

“He did manage to surprise me. It was very romantic. You should take some notes just in case you feel compelled to do the same with a special somebody.”

“Take notes? From Joel? Miller? I can be quite romantic on my own, thank you.” Jesse turned to you. “But listen, I’m happy for you. Whatever you need for your upcoming nuptials, let me know.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” You responded. It fell silent for a moment while the two of you were cleaning up the stable.

“I bet you Joel can get you guys a senior discount on a wedding cake from the bakery.” Jesse spoke up. He broke into a fit of laughter as you dropped your broom and threw a handful of hay at him.

“He is not even that old.” You responded defensively.

“No, no. He’s just regular old.” Jesse reasoned jokingly.

“He’s young at heart!”

“(Y/N), He plays the guitar on a rocking chair and whittles for fun.”

“He does other things for fun that I can tell you right now he is not too old for.” You replied with a coy tone in your voice.

“Alright, alright.” Jesse shook his head playfully and continued sweeping up the straw on the ground. “The jury is still out on how old he is, but I suppose we can both agree that he’s not geriatric.” He reflexively ducked when he heard you drop the broom again to pick up some more hay.

“So I’m invited to the wedding then?” He asked seriously.

“Of course you are! You’re my best friend.” You replied.

He clears his throat. “Yeah…”

*****

“Honey, I’m home.” Joel said. The words flew out his mouth in a jovial tone. He had never said those words before. It reminded him of a husband from the 1950s coming home from a day at the office. That particular visual didn’t enthuse him, but the idea of seeing you again did. He knew that he’d never wear a suit and work in an office, but he hoped that the rest of his life consisted of coming home to you.

“My love, I’m in here.” Your voice carried from the kitchen. He quickly followed until he stopped right behind you. His arms snaked around your waist as he kissed the top of your head. “What did you do today?”

“I spent some time with Tommy.” He went to go sit down at the island.

“Oh?”

“He asked how our trip went.” He began. You turned to face him.

“You told him about us?” You asked, smiling. He nodded.

“Yeah,” He chuckled. “He asked to be my best man. Did you tell Maria?”

“Yeah, I told her after Jesse.”

“Oh good. He knows.” He began sarcastically. “I better stop catchin’ him gazing at my bride then.”

“Joel, stop. He always knew we were together. But as for Maria, she was super excited. She started talking about wedding stuff like we weren’t living in some fungal zombie infested world. It’s not like I can go dress shopping, or cake tasting or pick out venues. I mean honestly, what’s the point of a wedding?”

“You don’t wanna have a wedding?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “All I want is to get married to you. She was just planning it all out the second I told her and I was feeling overwhelmed.”

“She’s just excited. Take a breath then go back and talk to her. If anyone’s got the connections to throw a wedding, it’s her.”

“What was your wedding like?” You asked.

“You wanna know?” You nodded. He sighed. “It wasn’t much. We cut costs wherever we could so I wore a hand-me-down suit from my dad and Tommy wore a hand-me-down suit from me. The only thing that matched on our suits were the buteniers. It was in one of her aunt’s backyard. It was dead in the middle of summer after school let out, but the only decorations were red, green and blue Christmas tree lights that she put on the bushes. I remember her aunt tasked me and Tommy with going to get some flowers. She gave us some money, but my God, I had no idea how expensive real flowers were. I bought Sarah’s mom a bouquet from the florist while Tommy dumpster dived for some dying flowers that they had just thrown out for the rest of the wedding party.” He shrugged. “The ceremony was quick. The reception was a potluck; everyone brought a dish and their own fold out chairs. Outside of my cousin singing a song, the music was from a boombox. It was simple, but it all came together. I had my own issues with my parents and her side of the family didn’t like me much after I knocked her up, but for that one day, we all got along and it was nice.”

“Oh. Wow. At least everyone got along.”

He chuckled. “I know it was nothing impressive. It was a shotgun wedding for a couple of teenagers. But I don’t want you to worry about how that went. What matters is now and how we want things to go for us.”

You smiled. “Our wedding can go the exact same way and I wouldn’t care so long as you’re there.”

****

“So,” Maria slammed down a stack of wedding magazines on the coffee table. “I think looking through these would be a good start.”

Maria invited you and some other women over one evening to have a girls night. She had never done this before, but she felt your impending marriage was a good excuse to have one. You didn’t have many female friends. Most were acquaintances, so none of them were as close as Maria and Wendy to you. They were there, but so were a handful of others you’ve only ever spoken to in passing.

Maria had a growing wine collection. She would trade for a bottle or two every so often. For your special occasion, she dusted off two bottles. Wendy made you a homemade pin that said “Bride to be” which she insisted you wear all night. Maria passed the magazines all around the circle you guys made on the floor.

“Maria, where did you get all of these.” You asked.

“I’ve had them all this time. While I was on a scavenging trip one day, and this was years and years ago, I saw them and grabbed them. It was impulsive. I don’t know. Me and Tommy had been together for a while and you know, naturally I started hearing wedding bells even though he never really proposed. I know it's silly to expect happiness in the middle of all this craziness, but it became normal for him and I and despite all this, he stuck by my side. I spent my whole life pre-outbreak wanting a wedding. I mean I wasn’t obsessed with it, but what girl doesn’t want a little fairytale wedding?”

“Tommy never proposed? I thought you guys were married?” Sheila spoke up in between sips.

“We’re basically married. Obviously not under law, but we committed ourselves to each other. I wanted to stop running and just build a future, even a tiny one, for us. He wanted the same. So we settled down and built this place. Well ‘settle down’ as much as we can in this type of world now. But, it was all casual. He brought it up one day while we were eating. He asked if I’d ever want a husband. He asked if it mattered to me.”

“What did you say?” Wendy asked.

“I told him, of course it mattered. At least to me. He gave me that famous Miller half smile,” Maria looked to you as to say ‘You know what I’m talking about’. “And asked if I thought he was husband material. I kinda strung him along for fun. I told him ‘As close to husband material as he can get’. He let out this little laugh and said ‘Well it’s settled then.’ and I thought to myself, I get to be someone’s wife! But not just anyone’s wife, his wife. At that point I couldn’t stop smiling. It wasn’t a proposal in the traditional sense. I guess it still counts, but we never did anything about it since. I guess we just assumed marriage from that point on. We expressed our love for each other, but never spoke the traditional vows. He never called me his fiance. As a matter of fact, the first time I heard him call me his wife to another person was when you and Joel showed up at our door.” She spoke in a roller coaster of tones, switching between enthusiastic and disappointed. “So I want you to have something special to commemorate this moment with. It’s not going to be a big, fancy wedding, but something nice nonetheless.” She said to you.

“Thank you.” You replied.

“Ohhh, look at this dress! I think this would go great with your figure, honey.” Darlene stated as she handed you the opened magazine. You admitted it was nice, but you couldn't see yourself in it.

“That’s a bit plain, don’t you think? How about this one.” Maria handed you her magazine. The dress was exceptionally grand. It had a train and was adorned with crystals and lace.

“That’s quite the dress, Maria.” You commented, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

“But do you like it?” She asked.

“I do,” It wasn’t a whole lie. “But what’s the point in looking at dresses? I’m not gonna be wearing any of them from these magazines. I don’t own any white dresses at all. Just a white t shirt with sweat stains and holes in ‘em.”

“It doesn’t hurt to fantasize a little bit. Besides, maybe we’ll go out and find a store with something nice to wear inside.” She replied.

“Drink up, honey, you're supposed to be happy.” Darlene said as she watched you nurse your glass.

“I am happy.” You replied with a straight face.

“Let’s play This or That and let’s pretend it was 13 years ago and the world was normal again. I’ll ask you to choose between two different things, wedding themed of course. I want you to give me an answer quickly to ensure it’s the truest answer.” Maria suggested.

“What were you doing 13 years ago?” Darlene asked you.

“Just graduated college. Didn’t even get a chance to apply my degree anywhere.”

“Oh, you were just a youngin’. Still had milk ‘hind your ears.” She playfully slapped your thigh. “And let’s see...Joel must have been how old…” She pondered seriously.

“Vanilla or chocolate?” Maria spoke up.

“What?” You asked.

“Cake. Vanilla or chocolate for your wedding cake?”

“Uh, chocolate.”

“Outdoor or indoor venue?”

“Indoor, I guess.”

“DJ or band?”

“DJ?”

“Lillies or Peonies for your bouquet?”

“I don’t think I know what peonies look like, to be honest.”

For the rest of the night, you and the other women played wedding themed games that you were sure Maria made up. They fiddled with your hair and dabbed beet juice on your lips and cheeks to appear as makeup. Despite Darlene rubbing you the wrong way, you took her advice and ‘drunk up’. Getting loose helped, but it still was all a bit overwhelming to you. Part of you wanted the fairytale like Maria said, but part of you didn’t even want it at all. While a fairytale would look nice, it would come with too many cons and then you would think ‘what was the point’. There would be too many people, and as an introvert, you weren’t prepared for that. Having to coordinate a large amount of food to feed the party, acquire a form of entertainment to keep everyone busy, ceremony rehearsals, picking loyalties when choosing between your sister in law and your good friend for made of honor and so on. Honestly none of your female friends were as close to you as Jesse, though, but you didn’t think he nor Joel would be cool with him being your main bridesmaid.

Still buzzed, you walked into your empty house and beelined it to the bathroom. You sat at the edge of the tub, warm water running through your fingers as you watched it fill up. You grabbed your portable CD player and headphones out the drawer next to the toilet. You adjusted yourself into the inviting bath and immediately slipped your head under the surface. Being underwater was always a relaxing feeling for you so long as you knew you were in control. Your hands held onto the sides of the tub, keeping you under. You stayed there with your eyes closed until you couldn’t take it anymore. The curls of your hair laid flat against your head as you took in a large breath. As weird as it was, it helped the anxiety that you were currently harboring. The cherry on top was your music. You reached over the edge and felt for the play button before sliding the headphones over your ears. Again, you closed your eyes. You weren’t thinking about anything in particular: your patrol duty tomorrow morning, your promise to have lunch with Maria and Darlene, and sure as hell not your wedding.

The buzz was wearing off, but the warm water took over the job and continued to relax your muscles. You were three songs into the album you were listening to when they abruptly tensed up. Your eyes popped open at the sudden splash of water that landed on your chest. It felt as though only a moment ago you were alone in the world and now sitting on the edge of the tub is Joel. He watched as you scooted up, sloshing the water around.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to splash you that hard.” He chuckled before pointing to your CD player. “You gotta be careful with this, (Y/N), you know. Gotta have your wits about you even in a place like Jackson---”

“I know, I just wanted to unwind for a moment---” You butted in.

“I don’t mean to chastise you like you’re a child, but I just want you to be safe. What if it wasn’t me here.”

“All the doors are locked.” You reasoned.

“Still.” He gave you his famous glare for a solid moment before his eyes drifted down to your body in the water. “Room for one more?” He lifted his eyebrow.

You frowned. “I was about to get out.”

“Didn’t look like that to me, darlin’. If I’d chosen to watch you for longer, you’d still be laying there with your eyes closed.”

“How long were you watching me for?” You asked, starting to feel a mix of self consciousness and arousal.

“Doesn’t matter.” Joel’s face was rid of emotion save from his eyes. His eyes were lit up with lust despite your rejection.

“The water was getting cold. I was just waiting for the song to end before getting out.”

He lifted the same eyebrow. “Is that so?” His eyes followed your body as you stood up in the tub. He unfolded his arms and grabbed the towel on the back of the door. Holding it out, you stepped out of the tub and into the soft fabric. He slid his hands up your arms before massaging your shoulders. His hands were rough and ungentle, but you still let him continue. “Baby, tell me what’s wrong. Who hurt you? I’ll go grab Tommy’s bat and smash their kneecaps in.”

You chuckled. “While I’m sure you would,” You turned around, releasing your shoulders from his grip. “No one hurt me. I’m just...I just got some stuff on my mind.”

“Care to share?” He asked. You shrugged. “Was it something that happened at Maria’s?”

“She threw me a bridal shower.”

He sat on the toilet and pulled you down onto his lap. “That was nice of her.”

“I mean yeah, it was nice. It just...It felt forced. Women were there that I hardly knew. We were planning the wedding, imagining details I knew would never work. I feel like Maria wants this to happen more than I do and I hate that. I should want this the most. I mean I do want this,” You point between you and him. “But I just don’t know how I want to go about it. I thought seeing her again would help me make up my mind about things, but I feel just as confused and flustered.”

He kissed your shoulder. “I don’t want you to stress out over this. It’ll all work out, because the most important thing in the end is that we have each other. I promise,” He kissed your shoulder again. “Ok?” He waited for you to say it back before tapping your thigh. “Now, just because you didn’t want me to get in with you doesn’t mean I don’t want a nice, relaxing bath too. Last chance before you put your clothes on.” He pointed between you, him and the tub as if asking for you to join him.

You smile with a shake of your head. “No, my skin is all wrinkly but I promise to only keep the towel on if you promise not to make me wait long.” You winked at him.

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mintchanniemint · 4 years

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pairing: [still friends] bassist!chan x (fem)reader wordcount: ~3.3k taglist: @100797-bc - @chansrms

[08:45 a.m]

"...So, since everyone seems ready and excited for this new project that involves more departments of our university, I think it's time to start! Be careful, everyone! And make sure to share all your thoughts with each other!"

A wave of "yes, Prof." slowly lit up in the huge auditorium as every student sounded both tired and bored. You had to admit you strangely didn't really hate this project, you probably had to do worse things, like that time you ended up doing a cooking project and nearly poisoned that girl from the History Department. Whenever you reminded yourself of that little incident, you always made sure not to see her, not even accidentally in the college restrooms. But this time, the project not only sounded a bit safer, but you even ended up in a group with a certain someone. And that was the only reason why that morning you didn't fall asleep while the professor was giving you the guidelines and instructions for your tasks. The project was related to the school systems around the world, and how they differed from each other, analysed under specific views. You were assigned a not-really-exciting topic, which was School Uniforms. Now, you had to admit you felt quite lucky the university you were attending didn't force its students to have a uniform to wear, but just the thought of having to learn how to tie a tie made you fall asleep on the spot.

"Hey."

Your train of thoughts got brutally interrupted by a way too familiar voice as you finally looked around, a bit confused, noticing that the hall was nearly empty. You looked in the direction of the voice that got your attention, to see a way too sleep deprived Bang Chan in front of you. You couldn't help but giggle a bit, he sat down on the seat right in front of yours, crossing his arms on the chair and plopping his chin on them. He looked at you for a couple of seconds, in silence, before slowly closing his eyes.

"You really look like a cat, sometimes." You whispered with a smile, your hand automatically reaching his soft curls, playing with a brown strand of hair with two fingers.

Wait… brown?

"Chan, when did you dye your hair?" The alarm in your voice nearly made you sound a bit too concerned and he quickly looked at you, his eyes half open.

"A couple of kids told me that I had to have a nice hair color for the project-" He then closed his eyes again, his head pushing a bit against your hand, as if asking you to keep playing with his hair.

"They were so serious about it, but my red hair dye is not so cheap to be covered by some brown color so I just used some hair color spray."

You looked at him, biting your lip trying your best not to burst out laughing.

"Yes, that's such a Chan thing for you to do…" You mumbled to yourself, your voice clearly highlighting a smile on your lips. He hummed in response, probably asking you what you meant by that. You shook your head and stood up, getting your bag from the seat next to yours.

"C'mon, bass boy, we need to go and try the uniforms!" You said, trying to sound as exciting as possible, hoping to somehow give some life to that sleepyhead in front of you.

"There's a reason why I always skip morning lectures." He mumbled, yawning and keeping his back on his shoulder. He followed you as you walked through the hallways of your department, not too familiar to him.

"They said this is the class, right?"

"Were you listening while that professor was assigning the classrooms to each group?"

"Nah… not really."

"Me neither."

The both of you just looked at each other for a couple of seconds, as if mentally screaming and asking what to do if you got the wrong class. Luckily enough, though, the door before you suddenly opened, revealing a black haired guy wearing round glasses, and a taller girl right behind him. They both looked at you, then the girl checked a pile of papers in her hands, nodding, and suddenly they smiled at you.

"Welcome! We were waiting for you!" The guy exclaimed, taking a couple of steps back and letting you and Chan enter the classroom. It was empty, some desks were occupied by big boxes with black, confusing scribblings scribblings on them.

"Those are the uniforms we are going to try, hopefully the sizes are gonna be fine! We thank you for submitting your essays and researching about school uniforms from various countries. Even though yours…" The guy mumbled, checking some of the papers the girl gave him, as he looked at Chan. "... was submitted two minutes before the deadline. But we appreciate the effort! You also followed our little advice about your hair! " The girl interrupted her friend, trying not to make him say anything way too harsh. She smiled at Chan, getting his usual cold stare in response, which left her a bit confused.

"Uh… yeah he really cares about this stuff, guys! Chan is just… not really good at expressing himself with words, yeah!" You swiftly entered the little conversation too, probably making it worse since as a consequence you only got an embarrassing silence and four pairs of eyes looking at you.

"Can we please see the uniforms now?" You quickly whispered, nearly tripping over your own words as you felt your own mind screaming for five whole seconds.

"Sure! Some students have already tried the uniforms they mentioned in their own essays and they're getting ready to take photos! We're really ambitious for this project!"

"And we're sure that the magazine of this project will turn out amazing with our photos! Seungmin is gonna make you shine like models."

They looked like those cartoon characters that completed each other's sentences, you couldn't help but find them a bit funny, though. Seeing them being so enthusiastic about this project made you feel a bit guilty too, since ten minutes earlier you were literally planning an escape with your fake-brown haired friend in case you didn’t get the right classroom.

You smiled at the two students in front of you and grabbed Chan by his arm, guiding him to a box on which you recognized your names were scribbled on with a black marker. Other students, definitely more responsible than you and Chan fused together, told you about the stuff you had to do. It was quite simple: go to the improvised changing rooms, wear the uniform, take pictures. Write about your general thoughts and impressions of the project at the end of the day. You just hoped Chan grasped all that, as he looked like he probably would have fallen asleep in the changing room. It didn't matter that much, you would have definitely helped him anyway.

You two were given three uniforms, and since there would have been lunch break in a couple of hours, the students of your group were asked to wear one of those uniforms. You didn't really understand why, but thinking about how other students had probably ended up in groups where they were supposed to cook, you felt quite lucky and didn't want to complain at all.

Chan was given his first uniform to try, and he walked to the changing rooms to try it on quickly. The photographer was taking quite some time taking those photos, and you didn't have to try the uniforms yet, since many other students were already waiting in line for the shoot. You just stood there, leaning on the wall, waiting for the moment Chan would have finally left that improvised changing room. Suddenly, the black curtain moved and a not so amused Chan made his amazing appearance: he was wearing black trousers and a white shirt, a tie on his right hand. He looked at you as he walked closer to you, and left the green and red tie on your hand.

"I don't know how to do this." He mumbled, as he finished buttoning his shirt up. You looked at the piece of cloth in your hands and took a deep breath.

"I don't know either but… Let's try, I guess?" You mumbled in response as you brought the tie around his neck, trying your best to seem like you knew what you were doing. Because of the little task you were asked to do, you had to get closer to Chan. You could feel his calm, relaxed breath gently hitting your face as your eyes were completely focused on that tie. Suddenly you felt his hand resting on your waist when you finally figured out how to make that tie look presentable for the shoot. You felt quite proud of the result and, not minding too much about Chan's hand on your waist, you dragged him to the photoshoot corner.

A cherry-red haired guy was there, a black bag right next to him, by his feet, as he was giving instructions about posing to a girl right in front of him. He then got his camera and, making sure everything was perfect, a loud "click" was heard.

"Let's take a couple more. So we can, eventually, choose the best one!" He smiled, getting a thumbs up by the girl who was temporarily his model. Seungmin, hoping you got his name right, seemed quite professional, and it took you literally seconds to guess he was from the Arts Department. You felt quite out of place for a good minute, everyone around you seemed like they were genuinely interested in that project and then there was you, who didn't stay home just because that grumpy, quiet cat-owner sent that essay last minute and automatically made you want to go just to spend the day with him.

Wow, that's embarrassing… And quite lame.

You shook your head, trying to let that thought drift off, when you suddenly heard someone call your name, announcing that you were able to try some of the uniforms you were assigned. You had to leave Chan's side, and you had to admit it felt way warmer when you had his arm around your waist.

"It's my turn! Gotta go."

"Make sure to button up the shirt properly."

"Oh shut up." You stuck your tongue out at him and you walked away, not before getting a gentle, quick squeeze on your waist by Chan, though.

Okay, let's be honest. Both of us are embarrassing and lame…

You mentally rolled your eyes at your own thoughts and quickly walked across the room to get your uniform, and headed towards the changing room. You didn't have any problems trying the clothes on, the trousers felt quite comfortable and you also liked how pretty the colors were. You looked at your reflection on the mirror, which was probably lent by the drama club, and quietly wondered which country's school that was supposed to be. You didn't really remember, even though you were literally the one who wrote about it in that essay, but you just shrugged it off and left the changing room, your eyes quickly landing on the little photoshoot corner.

It was Chan's turn, and that girl wasn't lying at all when she said that Seungmin was going to make everyone feel like a model. You nearly got caught staring at him and quickly walked closer to the queue of people standing, waiting for their turn to take photos. Seungmin seemed not to let your friend go, he probably found a good subject to photograph. He took photos of him in at least four different poses when he usually asks for two poses per student.

Chan left the spot with a small nod and walked away, leaving a satisfied Seungmin checking all the photos taken with his camera. Your friend quickly found you and walked closer to you, his eyes scanning the uniform you were wearing.

"Looks nice." He mumbled, one hand in the pocket of his trousers, the other one reaching a strand of hair that escaped from your ponytail.

"Oh well, thank you school president." You teased him with a smirk, before distractedly playing with his tie.

As it was finally your turn to take the photos, you couldn't help but feel Chan's gaze constantly on you. Seungmin made you feel at ease in a matter of seconds and you had to admit the shots were really pretty. He clearly was working so hard to make everyone shine in those uniforms. You thanked him with a smile and, followed by Chan, walked closer to those boxes containing other school uniforms. You had to try three other pieces before the big clock on the wall finally signed that it was lunch break. You were relieved half of the day had finally passed, but then you remembered you had to stay in that uniform you had just put on for the following two hours.

"The last time I wore a uniform for school was ages ago!"

"Wouldn't it be ten minutes ago?"

"Chan, c’mon." You sighed, exasperated, as you got your lunchbox from your bag and walked to the cafeteria with your friend. You noticed the uniform he was wearing only when the two of you sat down at a table and looked at each other for a fraction of seconds.

He was wearing a black turtleneck and a white shirt on it, his trousers were dark and looked more comfortable than the ones he had to wear for the second shoot.

"What."

Uh oh… caught staring…

"Oh, nothing! It's just… well, at least you don't have to wear a tie, hm?" You cleared your throat and looked around, your mind in complete alarm mode.

What an idiot.

Chan, in response, nodded and opened his lunchbox. Meaning that his whole interest was now on the food in front of him. You sighed in relief, you both loved and hated how naive that guy was. Definitely a double-edged sword. You shook your head at those thoughts and quickly opened your lunchbox, enjoying your meal and Chan's company for lunch.

"You know…" You said, between some bites. "Don't we look like high school students?" Your lips quickly curved into a silly smirk.

Chan looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed. "Isn't that part of the project-"

"No, Chan, I mean! Doesn't… this! Make you wonder what high school life would have been like if we were, you know, classmates-”

"Not really."

"Absolutely no fun." You pouted, your little rainbow-colored dream was completely destroyed before it could have even reached its completion because of Chan's straightforwardness.

The two of you chatted a bit after finishing your lunch and, since you had quite some time before returning to your team's classroom, you decided to go for a walk in the huge hallways of the university. You didn't feel as uncomfortable as you thought you would a few hours earlier; the uniform you were wearing was quite nice and warm too, and you were glad Chan had brought a scarf that morning, since you forgot yours at home because you were in a hurry. Even though he probably didn't even agree on that, you were wearing his scarf as you were walking down the hallways. Many students greeted you and way too many people were literally staring at Chan. You raised your eyebrows at the guy next to you, wondering exactly what they were so fascinated about.

Just wait till he opens your mouth, everyone.

You lightly giggled at your own thought, finding your mind funnier than usual when suddenly you walked past a group of students that stopped you. Specifically, that stopped Chan. You were a few steps back, looking at them quietly as some of them, definitely freshmen, gave Chan a few little pieces of paper. As the group of younger students walked away, Chan looked at you, his eyes literally filled with question marks.

"Wow Chan, you show up for morning lectures once and the whole Literature department falls for you." You commented with a dry laugh as you walked closer to him, checking the little notes in his hand. He shrugged and put them in the pocket of his trousers, leaving you speechless for a second.

" Wait, you're not throwing them away?"

"No, what if they actually need some tutoring."

"Chan are you serious-"

He looked at you for a second, his fake brown hair slightly touching his eyes. You sighed and shook your head, looking away for a second, when suddenly a huge thought hit you like a train.

What was that? You really couldn't tell, but something was burning. You felt annoyed. By what? You really didn't know how to explain it. What was that for? You had to calm down, those were just random phone numbers on a piece of paper, it wasn’t like that guy was going to contact them anyway. … right?

Breathe. Take a deep breath, you really need it before you do something dumb. Don't be dumb, don't be dumb, he's just a friend after all, he can do whatever he wants. Do not do anything dumb.

"Are you okay?" His usual, dull voice interrupted your thoughts for a second, making you notice you were actually holding quite tight on the scarf that was gently keeping you warm.

Your eyes finally met him, and you stayed silent. Complete silence. For at least five seconds. Your mind was running, gosh it was sprinting. From one thought to the other. And that weird burning was growing, and growing, and growing inside you. Your eyes were analyzing every single detail of his face. His brown eyes, that weird dye that was covering his usual beautiful dark red hair, his plump, full lips, that black turtleneck. And again, his eyes, his lips, his hair, his turtleneck, the ears that were usually adorned with beautiful earrings that were now completely bare.

And again, his eyes, lips, the turtleneck, his hair…

When suddenly, your hands moved before your mind could even realize that. You grabbed him by his arm. That was completely normal, you literally had always done that. But that time, that time you were dragging him to a small, quiet corner, far from those annoying and busy hallways. You were now in a small hallway, near two broken vending machines and an emergency exit.

"What is wrong with you?" He mumbled, his voice clearly expressing his confusion. You said nothing, you just pinned him against the wall, his hands quickly finding their way on your waist, and you looked at him straight in the eyes.

Your hand reached the collar of his black turtleneck, pulling it down with not much delicacy and your lips softly met his warm, sweet skin. He squeezed your waist as you angrily, but lightly, bit his neck, making sure to leave at least a small mark. You took a step back and looked at it for a second before fixing quickly both his turtleneck and shirt. Your eyes slowly met his, and moved to look at his cheeks, who were tinted in a light, pastel red color.

"Please don't contact any of them." You whispered, unexpectedly out of breath due to the adrenaline rush. You didn't let him say nor do anything, you just took a few more steps back before walking away in a rush, headed to the classroom.

Now.

…

What the hell did I just do?!

#inkidz #bang chan #chan fluff #bang chan imagine #bang chan soft hours #skz au #skz imagine #skz blurb #skz soft #stray kids blurbs #stray kids imagine #stray kids au #stray kids chan #bassist!chan #skz fluff #chan imagine

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kim-bobbae · 4 years

Text

12. “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”

Where you’re a dancer/choreographer cum YouTuber pulling the ‘I want a baby now’ hidden camera prank on him, inspired by some of the Korean couple YouTube channels that I’ve watched where the boyfriend goes ‘wtf’ most of the time hahaha. Hope y’all enjoy it! :-)

“For the first verse, why don’t we have Jay and Ji Eun do a little duet choreography?” Wassup suggested much to everyone else’s agreement.

“That’ll work,” Honey J nodded. “The next verse would look fuller with a group choreography, so the first verse would be the best fit.”

You took a quick glance at Jay through the reflection in the mirror who simply shrugged in response, face void of any expression whatsoever and upon seeing that he wasn’t responding, the rest of them turned their attention towards you to which you nervously cleared your throat, “Sure, let’s go with that.”

You were at the AOMG dance studio with Jay’s dancers from Alter Ego and Holy Bang for a practice session in preparation for the upcoming filming of his ‘All the Way Up’ music video. The excitement of finally collaborating with Jay after years of dating sure as hell got you feeling excited all week…if it weren’t for the little argument that you guys had gotten into this morning due to a hidden camera prank gone wrong which had him leaving the house without you.

“A baby? All of sudden? Where is this even coming from?” He asked, utterly confused.

There he was on the couch replying to some emails when you had simply gone up to him and said ‘let’s have a baby’ out of literally nowhere which had him absolutely dumbfounded, to say the least.

“Well we’ve been dating for a few years, and I’m not getting any younger,” You started. “We’re in our freaking 30s…!”

“So…?” He asked, furrowing his brows at you as he put his laptop aside and tapped on his lap, signaling for you to come over.

“I love you enough to want to have a family with you, and I don’t want to get pregnant when I’m 40,” You explained, your acting skills put to the test as you tried your hardest to hold back a laughter watching how serious he had gotten.

“Babe…didn’t we agree on getting married first before thinking about starting a family?”

“But that’s what you’ve been saying for the past two years, and…” You said, successfully pulling off a sulk as you raised your left hand in front of his face, pointing to your ring finger. “I ain’t got no ring on it.”

“Okay hold up,” He said, hands on your lap. “So it’s about marriage now? What on earth are you trying to get at?”

“I just want to have a baby with you.”

“…what?”

He was gawking at you by now, bewildered by your sudden marriage-and-baby talk. Of course, the both of you had spoken about this before where he had made it clear that he had every intention of marrying you – just not now. From his two labels to his several businesses, he just had too much on his plate to think about settling down. He didn’t want to get married nor start a family without being able to fully commit his time to you as he felt that it just wouldn’t be fair to you and you knew that – he had made sure you did.

While how seriously he was taking this conversation did have you feeling a little flustered, the all too familiar beep that penetrated the momentary silence only made things worse as your entire body tensed up in panic, Jay shooting his head up as his eyes scanned the room. Having helped you with the filming of some of your YouTube content, he knew exactly what that beep meant – it was your camera running out of battery.

His face hardened as he spotted the red blinking light from your camera that you had hid behind stacks of magazines in the dark corner of a shelf across the room and he shifted in his seat, gesturing for you to get off his lap before he walked over to retrieve it.

“What’s going on?” He asked, looking at the camera in his hand and then back at you. He was not amused and you definitely weren’t expecting things to pan out this way.

“It was a hidden camera prank,” You explained with a sheepish smile.

“You got to be kidding me.”

“It was the most highly requested video for the longest time!” You said, trying to defend yourself.

On top of the choreographies that made up the bulk of your YouTube content, you tended to vlog from time to time, showing little snippets of your daily life varying from simply hanging out with your friends or the creative process for the collaborations that you did with other artists. However, ever since your relationship with Jay had gone public last year, the majority of your new subscribers have been his fans with many leaving comments on your videos requesting for you to include more of Jay in your videos.

It started off simple with you filming some of your dates and backstage moments with his artists but every now and then, you’d respond to some of their hidden camera prank suggestions to which Jay had reacted to very sportingly. After all, it was entertaining for everyone and more than anything, he was glad that you and his fans were starting to get along despite the initial backlash that you received when news of your relationship first broke out.

“There is a time and place for everything and the conversation we had really isn’t something meant for anyone else to listen to,” He stated.

Yes, he was a fairly private person, especially when it came to his relationship with you. He had always made it a point to ensure that his appearances on your videos were never too intrusive, too.

“What were you expecting to get out of this? If I had gone along with it we’d be filming porn by now,” He said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “You really had to interrupt me while I was working for this? C’mon…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t kno- I mean, I didn’t mean it and- …I’m sorry,” You whispered.

For a while he simply stared at you, at a loss for words before he let out a sigh of resignation, “I need to cool off. Call Dukhwa if you need a ride to the office later.”

Without any opportunity to iron things out with Jay prior to the dance practice as he kept himself busy in his office right up to the minute prior (you weren’t going to risk aggravating things by knocking on his door and interrupting his work again after all), you were left without a choice but to attend practice putting on a professional front, the both of you trying your best to put the incident behind as you guys worked on the duet choreography together.

“What do you think of simplifying the shuffle to a side step? I think it’ll look cleaner,” You said.

“Yeah okay.”

“Should we do a wave for this part?”

“Yeah, whatever you want.”

Despite most of the practice progressing rather smoothly, the awkward air between the two of you did get a little obvious with how stiff you guys were at any physical contact. His chic responses in comparison to how he’d enthusiastically contribute ideas when he was speaking with the rest of the dancers was also a dead giveaway. Nevertheless, you powered through the five-hour practice and you couldn’t be more relieved the moment it ended, although it didn’t last for long as everyone packed up quickly and shot each other knowing glances to leave the studio to give you and Jay some time alone.

The silence was thick as you packed up your belongings, Jay sitting with his back against the mirror while he watched you in silence.

“About this afternoon,” You finally spoke, picking up your bag before turning around to look at him. “I’m really sorry. I just want you to know that I would’ve made sure you knew about the footage after I was done filming, and that I’d only use it if you were comfortable sharing it with the public.”

“It’s not that I’ll be uncomfortable with it,” He explained. “It’s just that the internet would have a whole bunch of opinions about our relationship, marriage and family planning.”

You nodded, your gaze falling to look at his feet instead.

“As for me, I don’t really care about what they’ll have to say and you know that. I’m just worried that you’ll be affected and the last thing I want is for all the success that you’ve built from your dancing and career to be overshadowed by something as silly as this.”

He then stood up, taking your bag off your shoulders and setting it on the floor before he murmured a soft ‘come here’, pulling you in for a hug and kissing the side of your face.

“I��m sorry,” You told him, relaxing into his touches.

You were just glad to have gotten the tension out of the way after working around it for the whole day. Fights with Jay weren’t common and you were just not used to him being angry or upset despite how long you guys have been together. He was never too proud to apologize nor forgive and if you had to choose one thing you loved most about him, that’d be it.

“I’ll put a ring on it and have babies with you,” He chuckled. “Just be a bit more patient, I’m working on it I swear.”

“I know,” You laughed, then buried your face in his chest in embarrassment.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, cupping your cheek with one hand while the other maintained its hold around your waist, “Heading home?”

“Yeah, you?”

“I’m meeting Pumpkin in a bit for a meeting. I’ll see you at home after, and we can think of something else to film for your video this week.”

You smiled, giving him a peck on his lips before you wriggled out of his grip. “I shouldn’t hold you up any longer then.”

“Shall I get someone to drive you home?”

“No it’s fine, don’t worry about me,” You said, picking up your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“Well then,” He said, grabbing his jacket from the bench and handing it to you. “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”

“What about you?”

“I have another one in my office,” He said with a smile, then waved you off.

“Alright,” You giggled. “I’ll see you later then, don’t keep me waiting too long.”

#Jay Park #jay park scenarios #jay park drabbles #AOMG #aomg reactions #aomg scenarios #khh #khh scenarios #khh imagines #khh reactions #park jaebum #park jaebeom

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underthewingsofthblackeagle · 4 years

Photo

Foto: Panorama Helsinki / Finland - Dom und Parlamentsplatz (by tap5a)

“We only do this for Fergus!” is a short Outlander Fan Fiction story and my contribution to the Outlander Prompt Exchange (Prompt 3: Fake Relationship AU: Jamie Fraser wants to formally adopt his foster son Fergus, but his application will probably not be approved… unless he is married and/or in a committed relationship. Enter one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp (Randall?) to this story) @outlanderpromptexchange

Chapter 4: A Good Father

The next morning, Fraser and Fergus looked up in amazement and delight as Claire joined them for breakfast. Normally, "the men" had breakfast alone on Saturday and Sunday mornings because they were early risers and Claire liked to sleep in on her days off. After breakfast, Claire asked Fraser if he had ten minutes for a private conversation. She had just made her request when Fergus looked up in horror. Then he looked at his father angrily:

"Papa, what happened last night?"

Fraser and Claire looked at each other in surprise, then replied, as if from one mouth:

"Nothing!"

Fergus, who had slipped from his chair in the meantime, ran to Claire, who was sitting on the other side of the table, and held his arms out to her. Claire lifted him onto her lap.

"Claire, you're not going to leave us, are you? You're not, how do you say, quiddeling?"

"Quit, Fergus, that's quitting. No, I'm not quitting."

"Then why do you want to talk to Papa? On a Sunday morning?"

Claire pulled the boy's head to her chest. Without realizing it, she slowly began to move her body back and forth as if to lull him to sleep.

"Fergus, your Papa hasn't done anything wrong and I'm not going to quit. I have to discuss something with your Papa, business stuff, boring stuff. Meanwhile, you can go upstairs, wash your face, brush your teeth and put your clothes on."

"Breakfast" by marijana1

The little curly head nodded.

"I am so looking forward to spring and summer, Claire."

"So, can you tell me why?"

"Because when it gets warm again, I'll play soccer with you again."

Claire laughed, then stroked Fergus over the head again and let him slide slowly to the ground. The boy immediately wanted to run out of the room, but Claire called him back again:

"Fergus!"

Astonished, the boy turned around. Claire pointed her head in the direction of Fraser:

"Fergus, your Papa loves you very much and he would never do anything to hurt or harm you.”

Fergus understood. Slowly, he walked over to Fraser, who stretched out his arms and lifted him onto his lap.

"Excuse me, Papa."

Jamie pressed the boy to his chest.

"Apology accepted."

They remained like that for a moment. Then Fraser went on:

"I would never do anything or want Claire to leave us. I'm happy that you're so good with her, that you get along so well. You have nothing to worry about. I do want you to be well, Fergus."

"Thanks, Papa."

Instead of an answer, Fraser kissed the child on the forehead and pressed him to his chest again. Then he put Fergus on the floor and said:

"Go now. Wash up and get dressed. Let's go to the museum village at Düppel."

"Museum Village Düppel" by Lienhard Schulz, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=305226

Fergus beamed and he could not help but ask:

"Claire, would you like to join us..."

"No, today is your day with your Papa. And for me today is my day off. I'll see you for tea or later for dinner."

Fergus nodded and surrendered to his fate. As he closed the door behind him, Fraser asked:

"Claire, what's on your mind? Have you seen the Sunday papers?"

"No, but I can imagine what they're writing."

Fraser reached for the chair next to him, where one of the Berlin Sunday newspapers was lying, and handed it to Claire.

"Berlin's new glamorous couple publicly declared their love"

was to be read there. And of course the corresponding pictures were also to be seen. One of these pictures had been moved into the center of the page and was framed by a kitschy big red heart.

Claire shook her head, closed the pages and returned the newspaper to Fraser.

"No, that's not why I want to talk to you. It’s about David Gehrmann and his girlfriend, Geillis Duncan."

Fraser looked at her in amazement.

"I've known Geillis for several years, and I've known David since they've been together, about four years."

Fraser didn't say a word, and kept looking at her questioningly.

"You will certainly wonder why I didn't tell you this last night. Or the moment we met them. I was so surprised and needed some time to process this. I didn't want to hide it from you."

"Okay, but what's the problem?"

"Geillis was the one who showed me your ad in the “Wirtschaftswoche” and urged me to apply for the job."

"Did she also work in the ...”

"No, she was an independent fashion consultant for many years ... in the higher-priced segment. But since she has been together with the 'rich Dave' ... she only does that now and then. She loves to have breakfast with a croissant, a strong coffee and a cigarette and to read some gossip magazines on the side. But she ran out of them and was ‘forced’ to look into the 'Wirtschaftswoche' that Dave had left on the breakfast table. She came to me very excited and showed me the job offer. Geillis knew that I had inherited some debts from my late husband and ... she said that with the three times my nurse's salary it would be able to pay them back faster. That same evening we put together my letter of application.

"But this is a good story. I must be very grateful to her friend for drawing your attention to the job offer. What's the problem?"

"The problem is that Geillis and I have been close for many years. She knows me better than perhaps anyone else. She sees through me when I try to lie to her and I expect she'll call me in the next few days with questions."

Fraser nodded.

"I see."

For a moment they were silent.

"What could we do to convince her friend? Do you have an idea?" Fraser then asked.

"I don't know. All I know is I don't want to face her questions... alone right now."

Fraser nodded again.

"What do you say we invite Geillis and Dave for dinner and give them the home story the tabloids want us to do?

"That would certainly be one way..."

Claire didn't seem to be sure and suddenly there were some soft knocks at the door. They both knew that this would be Fergus and that this was the end of the time when they could talk in private.

"Come in!"

Fergus stepped through the door and smiled. After closing the door behind him, he ran to meet his father, who picked him up and put him on his lap. Fraser looked at him with a slightly probing look, then he said:

"You did good!"

"What?" the boy asked, turning his face up to Frasers.

"Well, you washed and dressed properly, and most of all you knocked!”

Fergus sighed.

"That's what I've been training with Claire... for the last week. She said it was rude not to knock and that you don't do that.”

"Claire's right. Now go get your jacket. Then we can go."

As Fergus stormed off, Fraser turned to Claire again:

"Thank you. I spent many weeks trying to teach him. At some point, I gave up. He was always so enthusiastic and forgot about it."

"He will and can continue to be enthusiastic. There is no way I'm going to talk him out of it. But now that he's in school..."

Fraser smiled and nodded.

Suddenly a call came from the hallway:

"Papa, are you coming? I'm ready."

"Duty calls. I've got to go," said Fraser and stood up, "we'll talk again tonight about what we can do about Geillis and Dave.”

"Thanks. Have a good time. See you for tea?"

"Yes, sure," returned Fraser. He almost leaned over to her, hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. But he could jut hold himself back

"Window" by OlgaofDG

When "the two men" had left, Claire cleared the table and brought the dishes into the kitchen. She knew that this was not one of her duties. But why should the dishes be left there until Mrs. Curtius came and prepared the table for tea? In the kitchen, Claire made herself a big sandwich that she wanted to eat for lunch. Then she took the elevator to her apartment. After making herself a cup of tea, she sat down at her desk and began to write a diary. There were so many thoughts going through her mind and journaling had been Claire's way of organizing her thoughts and giving them direction for many years. Two hours later, she made herself a fresh can of tea and started eating her sandwich. Afterwards she picked up a book, lay down on her couch and started reading. When she noticed that she was getting tired, she set the alarm clock on her smartphone and some minutes after that she fell asleep.

Shortly after four pm, Claire's smartphone rang. She stretched herself. Then she got up, folded the blanket and went into the bathroom. Ten minutes later she entered the dining room, where she was greeted by "the two men" and a large pot of fresh tea. The intense aroma of the tea enveloped her, and for a moment Claire thought that there was no way she wanted to be anywhere else right now. Mrs. Curtius had already set the table and around the teapot trays with small sandwiches, scones and tea cakes were waiting for them to enjoy. Claire had to smile as she watched Fergus, who was still talking to her excitedly, with his eyes was all over the tasty delicacies. Fraser, too, had not escaped Claire's gaze and he grinned.

"Museumsdorf Düppel" by Andreas Paul - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=21251947

During the meal that followed, Jamie had to warn his foster son several times not to speak with his mouth full, otherwise he would have to call him a rowdy buffoon. Fergus laughed, knowing full well that Fraser never meant any harm when he had to rebuke him. But then his hunger was satisfied and he began to tell Claire about what he had experienced that afternoon ‘with Papa’. He described in detail the trip to the museum village of Düppel. It was one of the ten most visited museums for children in and around Berlin. At 11:00 a.m. they had taken part in a guided tour of the medieval village and visited various craft houses. Afterwards they went to the stables where they could observe shaggy historical animal species such as Skudden sheep and grazing pigs.

"Skuddenschaf im Museumsdorf Düppel" by Lotse - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=24947309

Finally, they visited the Center for Experimental Medieval Archaeology. Here father and son experienced how weaving and braiding was done and what traditional handicraft looked like in the Middle Ages. They listened to a short lecture about how tar is made from wood and what the Neanderthal man had to do with it. There were medieval games for children in the afternoon, but by now "the Frasers" were really hungry and Jamie asked the driver to take them to the Island Café on Potsdam's Friendship Island. There "the Frasers" and the driver had lunch, watched the pedal boats pass by and enjoyed the beautiful landscape. Afterwards, they took a walk through the lovingly laid out garden and visited the extensive water playground, which, however, was no longer in full operation due to the season. When they returned to the parking lot, they were happy but also a little exhausted. Together they were looking forward to being soon in their warm home and with Claire. However, none of the "Fraser men" mentioned this. They both just said how much they were looking forward "to have tea".

"View from the Friendship Island Potsdam to the Museum Barberini" by Bärwinkel, Klaus - Own Work, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=59439592

After tea they went over to the conservatory where Fraser had built up the electrical railway a few days earlier. While "the two men" devoted themselves to their hobby, sending all kinds of trains over the tracks, Claire placed one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace so that she could feel the warmth of the fireplace in her back. It also allowed her to observe "the two men" and to look through the Panoramic window into the slightly lit garden every now and then.

At 6:00 p.m. Claire left to set the table for dinner. The food prepared by Mrs. Curtius was in a special refrigerator, so Claire only had to set the plates, glasses and cutlery. She could then take out the plates with cheese and sausage, as well as salads and bread, and put them on the table. Had she ever felt so much joy doing chores like this before? Claire could not remember. Suddenly, she remembered a phrase that Uncle Lamb had whispered softly in her ear whenever she thanked him for anything: "What you do for love is always done good."

"Dinner" by JillWellington

After they had eaten, Fraser took Fergus to shower and Claire cleared the table. Then she joined "the two men" who were already sitting on the pirate bed in Fergus' room. To Claire's surprise, there was a big book on Fergus' knees that she had never seen before. He held it out to her and she read the title: "A year in the Middle Ages: Eating and celebrating, traveling and fighting, ruling and punishing, believing and loving.”

"Fergus proudly announced, "Papa gave me this today," and immediately added, "Will you read it to me, Claire?

"No," she replied, adding, "Today is my day off. Your Papa is reading to you today. But I like to listen and you can snuggle up to me while listening. Okay?"

Fergus beamed and handed Fraser the book.

When the child had fallen asleep, they quietly left the room. Fraser pointed to the door to his living room.

"Let's just have a quick chat about what we're going to do about Geillis and Dave."

Claire nodded.

Fraser asked if she wanted a drink, but Claire refused. As they sat in the armchairs in front of the fireplace she wasted no time:

"I thought about what you said this morning. I think it's the only way to convince Geillis."

"All right. I'll call Dave. But may I remind you that I am leaving on Wednesday for a ten-day business trip to Scandinavia and Asia. I will not return until Saturday of the following week."

Fraser had pulled his smartphone out of his pocket and started wading through his calendar.

"I kept the days after that, Sunday through Wednesday inclusive, to spend time with Fergus and give you time off. The earliest we could meet Geillis and Dave would be at the weekend after. Do you think you can get Gilis at distance by then?”

"Yes," agreed Claire, who knew what he was getting at. "After all, I'll be responsible for Fergus 24/7. I can't meet with her or make long phone calls."

Fraser nodded. Then he added:

"And you don't have to tell your friend about your days off either."

"Exactly. There's no law, even in Germany, that requires me to do that."

Fraser stood up and Claire thought he wanted to end the conversation, but he slowly walked over to the glass door leading out onto the balcony and looked out. He began to speak softly:

"Claire, I don't know how you feel about all this. I ... don't know what you think of me. Our company ... we ... move millions, sometimes hundreds of millions across the globe every day. I often wonder how it could have come to this. We started a small business many generations ago and now it has become a multinational corporation.”

"Fireplace" by ianetmoreno

He paused for a moment.

"I try to do everything I can to make sure it's not just about profit. We support charitable organizations and NGO's all over the world. And wherever we employ people, we not only pay the legally required minimum wage. Here the minimum wage is a little over 8 euros. We have been paying over 13 euros for years. I want employees who do not need two or three jobs to feed their families. And yet ..."

Again he paused for a moment.

"I don't know, Claire, what you're thinking, Maybe you think I'm a person who uses money to get what I want. No matter what it costs. But, you know, I don't care about any of that. The company, this house, it all means nothing to me. I could sell it all tomorrow and I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Fraser turned and looked at Claire.

"The only thing that means anything to me, Claire, is that little human sleeping in his pirate bed over there."

He took a deep breath in and out. Then he went on:

"When I found him at that bridge in Paris ... at first I thought that there was only a bundle of dirty clothes lying there ... but then this bundle moved .... That evening, he first met me dismissively, even aggressively ... I sat down on the blank stones at some distance from him and began to talk to him ... and sometime that evening he gave me the greatest gift that you can give a person. He gave me his trust."

Fraser swallowed. But only seconds passed, and then he was in control again.

"I presume you know the Greek Stoics?"

Claire smiled.

"You couldn't be my uncle's niece and not know them," she replied.

"I thought so. One of the Greek Stoics, Seneca, writes in one of his letters to Lucillus: 'Nothing good that we possess can really please us if we cannot share it with friends.’ I cannot give the child back the five years of his childhood that have already passed. But I can do everything to make the next years of his life better. I want to offer him all the possibilities ... he is a bright intelligent child. I want him to have the opportunity to go to the best schools, the best universities ... if he wants to. I want him to discover and develop his abilities and talents. Everything else here is not really of lasting value, you can't grasp it or hold on to it. What people call success, all the things that newspapers turn into headlines, is only a fleeting phenomenon. These things only acquire value because people attach value to them. When I die, do you really think I would miss having made a hundred million more profit? Certainly not. But I know that I will regret every opportunity I didn't take to do good to this cheeky dwarf. Do you understand that?"

"Father and Son" by Olichel

Claire had stood up and joined him.

"Yes, I understand that."

"Then you understand that we're doing this all for Fergus."

She could have answered "yes" quickly, but when she saw what feelings were reflected on his face, Claire not only understood him, she felt what he felt.

Gently, she put her right hand on his shoulder.

"Jamie, you are a good father. You really are."

Fraser looked at her and swallowed.

"Do you really believe that or..."

"No, no 'or'. I'm convinced of that because I've seen it with my own eyes every day I've spent here with you and Fergus so far.”

"Thank you, Claire. It means a lot to me when you make that judgment."

He was silent for a moment, but Claire sensed that deep inside there was something still moving him.

"Claire, tell me honestly, did you take this job for the money?"

Now she had to laugh.

"It would be a lie if I told you that the generous salary hadn't played a role in my application. About the other money ... I didn't know anything yet. As I said, my husband left me a mountain of debt and Geillis quite rightly said that with the money I earn from you I could reduce that debt. But in the end, it wasn't the money that tipped the scales in favor of taking the job. You know, I lost my parents when I was five years old as well and ... somehow there was something that connected me to Fergus right away. No, it wasn't the money that tipped the scales."

A slight smile came over Fraser's face.

"Thank you, Claire. For everything you're doing for Fergus and me. Sleep well."

Claire wanted to tell him so many things, but she knew it was better to keep quiet now.

"Good night, Jamie."

As Fraser turned his gaze back to the dimly lit garden, she walked to the door. But before she touched the handle, she turned around briefly.

"Jamie?"

"Yes?" Fraser asked in surprise.

"You're a good father. You're a good father, don't you forget that."

#Outlander #Outlander Fan Fiction #Outlander Prompt Exchange #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Fergus Fraser #Geillis Duncan #Berlin #Germany #modern au

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honeypirate · 3 years

Text

Reunited part three

Master list

Nishinoya x y/n

Kissing Noya became one of your favorite things. That night you finished the movie then he took the remote and switched it back to your game replay, he just smiles when you quirk your eyebrow at him when he settles back into cuddling you and holding your hand. “This part” he points to the tv and you open your eyes to look, you had been dozing on his shoulder as you drew things along his hand with your finger. He’s so excited and it makes your stomach flip “I saw this part in a highlights clip online. You absolutely perfected this libero set” he’s buzzing with praise for you and you blush “thank you! I worked so hard! But it’s also perfected by the other team members. Lisa there,” you point to the wing spiker “she’s our ace, she pushed herself so hard to get to jump that high. She pushes herself as much as I do” he laughs and brings your arm up to his lips, kissing your fingers, then your wrist, then up your arm slowly, making sure he kisses all your bruises and marks. Your heart is beating rapidly and you have a cute smile on your lips as you watch him. You feel so comfortable and at home with him here, you already know it’s going to be really hard when he leaves, you feel tears starting to prick your eyes so you quickly shove those feelings away. Happy to just be in this moment with him. “Yū” you whisper as he gets to your shoulder and buries his face in your neck, smiling and giving you small sweet kisses. “Y/n” his voice was quiet, the game was forgotten as you both cuddled and held each other, his head on your shoulder and your arms around him. You ended up adjusting your body so you could lay on the couch now with him laying between your legs with his head up on your shoulder and his breathing soft on your neck. You played with his hair and soon you both were asleep

You woke up to the smell of coffee and pancakes, when you opened your eyes you leaned up and saw him quietly dancing the kitchen, wearing your apron. He tries to flip a pancake in the air but it falls on his head, you try to hide your laughter but he turns when he hears you, a big smile on his face. “Good morning beautiful!!” He says excitedly “breakfast is almost ready and there is coffe here for you too!” You stand from the couch and stretch out your arms in the air, he notices the rise of your shirt and your obvious bralessness which he realized that’s why he was so comfortable laying on your chest last night. His face blushes deep red as he turns his attention back to pancakes. You wrap the blanket around your shoulders and walk over to him wrapping your arm around his waist and laying your head on his shoulder. “Thank you. This is perfect” you kiss his shoulder then get some coffee.

he brings a plate of pancakes and other food to the table. “I made American pancakes, and a few other things that we used to eat a lot as kids” you grin when you see the spread, your stomach grumbling. “This looks amazing. You’re the best, babe!” You don’t even notice the word slip from your mouth as you start to eat, humming with joy and doing a tiny dance in your seat. He freezes for a second, you guys and kissed, but honestly he still didn’t know what it meant long term. He was gonna take it slow and see what happens, he didn’t expect you to call him a pet name and he didn’t expect to love it so much. His cheeks flush and he smiles, trying to calm down his racing heart. “Babe, huh?” He says quietly and you choke on your pancake, coughing a bit before swallowing. “Sorry I didn’t even notice.” You say quietly and take a drink if your coffee. “No no don’t be sorry.” He tucks your hair behind your ear “I like when you call me sweet names” he says before starting to eat and focusing on his food. You blush and continue your meal, feeling very domestic with him, it made your heart soar.

After breakfast you clean up before going to brush your teeth and put ready for your typical Monday. You throw on your VB shorts and a sports bra, throwing on a hoodie over the top. You get your training bag ready and bring it out to the living room.

You stop in your bedroom doorway frozen, Noya’s standing at the table, all cleaned up in a nice pair of black jeans and a tucked in white button up that he rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. He’s got a pen in his teeth as he digs through his bag trying to find something. He looked so good, like he belonged here in your kitchen, and for a second you could imagine a whole life of possibilities with him. You smile warmly as he finds what he needs with a triumphant look.

Pulling yourself together you walk over, setting your bag down next to his “Hey beautiful girl” he looks at you with such kindness and adoration in his eyes. You smile back at him as you wrap your arms around his middle laying your head on his chest. “Hey hun” your voice is soft “you look really handsome. What do you have going on today?” He rubs soft circles on your back “I have a meeting with the American branch of the magazine I work for, they want me to go to a game in a couple weeks so I’m basically just picking up documents and information.” The game you have next month flashes in your head but you stamp that out, there’s so many games he could be going to. “I have practice until five, and th...” he gets excited “wanna get dinner after?” You laugh and reluctantly pull away, ending the hug “that’s what I was gonna ask.” He apologizes for cutting you off and you kiss his cheek “dinner tonight. I’ll meet you back here at like 5:15 because the gym isnt far from here and I just walk. Also.” You reach into your bag and pull out your spare key. “This is for you” he takes it with a smile “perfect thanks y/n” his phone beeps and he curses under his breath “I gotta go or im gonna be late” he throws his bag over his shoulder and slips on his shoes before pulling you into a hug and and a kiss, then a second kiss, third, you pull away blushing “go babe! Don’t be late. I’ll see you tonight!” You give him a push and he laughs giving you one more kiss before running out your apartment door.

It’s been a few weeks with him in your home, you’ve been in a sweet routine with him now. Morning breakfast, getting together for dinner then you’d talk and cuddle and kiss before bed. Today you woke up extra early, the time with him has been fun and great except all the girls that flirt with him. He doesn’t really pay them any attention but it still makes you jealous. You cuddled and kiss a lot, call each other sweet things. But what were you? You were confused and decided that a run would clear your head.. But you lose track of time pushing yourself to just keep going and by the time you get back home you have just a few minutes to get your stuff together before you have to leave for practice.

“Y/n! Good morning!” His cheerful voice made your heart skip as you ran inside the apartment. “Hey Noya! I lost track of time on a run and now I’m gonna be late!” You laugh and basically jog into your room.

You come out with your bag across your back and you stop in your tracks when you take him in. His tan suit pants and black button up shirt, black belt, and black shoes. You can smell his cologne and it gives you butterflies. Damn he looked so good.

You felt a familiar twinge of jealously before reminding yourself that he leaves in a few months and to not get too attached. “Dinner tonight?” He says and smiles turning to look at you. “Yes” your voice cracks and you clear your throat “same time?” You ask and he nods enthusiastically. You get your wits about you now and return to running out of the apartment with a see you later.

You were late. And you were never late. It make him worried. He wondered if it was because he hadn’t made another move yet. Did you forget about him? Have you stopped caring about him? Did he do something wrong? He tried to get rid of his anxiety and forced himself to just patiently wait.

When you walk through your apartment door at 5:45, thirty minutes late, you drop your bag immediately and close the door before turning to look at him sitting on the couch. He was dressed in some jeans and a simple hoodie and looked absolutely delicious, he looked a little worried and was about to ask you what’s up before he saw the look in your eye. Frustrated and holding in what looked like hours of unshed years. He stands and takes a Step towards you as the dam breaks and you cover your face with your hand as you sob.

He notices the bandage on your left hand as he softly pulls you into his chest. He holds you and hums softly and when you’re calmer he asks “Baby what happened?” He says as his strokes your back softly. “You’re gonna..” sniffle “think I’m a baby” he chuckles softly “I already think you’re my baby so just tell me” his slight confession goes over your head for now. “We had a practice game against a college team, which is fine we’ve always beat them, but I tried to block but the ball and it hit at a weird angle. A total fluke and accident. I broke two fingers and the skin split between my ring finger and pinky. I got five stitches. It’s why I’m late.”

As you’re telling him he knows something bad and his stomach sinks when he imagines you getting stitches. When he imagines you in pain it hurts him as well.

“I held up my facade of ‘im fine’ thinking I could convince myself but then I saw you and you look so damn good that I just couldn’t hold it anymore. I’m sorry I ruined your night Nishinoya” you start to cry again, placing your forehead on his chest, thinking that you ruined everything

He holds you “baby it’s okay I don’t care about the night I just care that you’re alright. You’re all I care about” you nod and try and calm down again. “I look good for you only anyway” he whispers and kisses the top of your head.

He runs you a hot bath as you sit on the edge of your bed quietly. When he walks over to you he cups your cheeks and rubs his thumbs under your eyes wiping any tears left away. “Stay?” You ask and he smiles softly with a nod.

You walk into the bathroom and he follows, he reaches down to the hem of your sweatshirt and slowly pulls it over your head carefully. He looks into your eyes as his hands softly touch the band of your shorts and you look so fragile he could cry. It’s a silent question and you nod once before he slides your shorts and underwear down your legs, you lay your good hand on his shoulder to steady yourself when you step out of them. He softly helps you out of your sports bra and then holds your good hand as you step into your deep tub filled with hot water, bubbles, and epsom salt.

He quietly took his hoodie off and set it on your bed as he got the stool from your vanity to sit behind you, he also started playing some soft music. He took the pony from your hair and slipped in on his wrist before slowly and gently getting your hair wet and washing it for you.

His heart aches for you. You’re his perfect girl, of course not his yet but he will ask you to be soon. He doesn’t want you ever in pain. He wanted to help you out in any way he could to make you feel better. Your body was beautiful, he wasn’t blind, but right now you were trusting him and he would never break that trust. He just wanted to take care of you.

You feel the tension and sadness seep out of your body, grateful for the pain meds from the doctor so your hand doesn’t hurt right now. You were putty in his hands as he washed your hair. And when you leaned forward he washed your back with your scrubbie. When you’re clean you stand and he wraps a towel around you before helping you out of the tub.

He helps you to your room, his arm around you comfortingly. “I’m gonna order a pizza and then we should watch something and you should let me hold you” you smile at him and nod “yes please” you say softly and he walks out of your room.

You grab your underwear from your dresser and slip on a pair of black lace boyshorts and decide to grab his hoodie on your bed and slip that on your bare top. After that you grabbed your blanket and made your way out to the couch.

You walked out of your room as he was ordering pizza over the phone, he looked up and smiled when he saw you, then blushed when he noticed you were in his hoodie and just your underwear. You were stunning. The most gorgeous girl.

You sit down on the couch and he comes over when he hangs up. He’s already queued up a movie, a romcom you said you liked a few days ago and you smile when you realize. You look up into his eyes and you almost start to cry again. But this time it’s because how loved you felt. “Yū I..” your voice cracks and he smiles warmly at you before he sits down on the couch and pulls you to his chest. “I know” he says and holds you. He felt it too. The love you both had for each other. You tilt your head up and start to softly pepper kisses along his neck.

A knock on the door pulls him away from you and you sigh.

You eat some pizza and it makes you feel better to have food in your tummy before cuddling with him again and enjoying the movie for a while before getting a little bored. You look up at him, your head on his chest, and you start to draw small circles on his chest. He looks down at you and smiles lovingly.

“I’d be so sad without you here tonight” you say quietly and he blushes “I’m so glad I could be here to take care of you y/n” he brushes his lips softly against yours and your body floods with tingles. The movie ends and you lay together talking about your days other than your accident. You learn about the games he’s been to already and written about. The men’s volleyball team was amazing apparently but he says you’re a much better libero then they have.

It’s getting late and you take some night time medicine, your captain gave you the next few days off to heal but you already know you’ll go to the gym anayway to support your team. You’re standing in your kitchen drinking some water and he walks up and hugs you from behind. You turn around and wrap your arms around him, resting your head against his shoulder and asking “will you sleep in my bed with me? I don’t want to be alone”

Your question gave him butterflies and he nodded “yeah” he says and withholds the urge to jump in excitement. It’s still a little early so you decide to start a show in bed, one that you used to watch together every Wednesday night in high school.

After five minutes of the show you roll over so you’re laying chest to chest and you’re looking at him, studying his face. He starts to blush at your gaze and he can’t hold back a smile as he looks back at you.

He starts to run his fingers through your hair and it gives you a shiver, he pulls the blanket higher up your shoulders and you use the movement you cuddle up closer to him, throwing your legs around him and fully laying on him, your head on his shoulder. “How much longer do I have with you?” You whisper, afraid your voice would crack if you spoke any louder. He frowns “I’m supposed to go to Canada in a little under a month” you groaned and he chuckled a little “y/n” his voice was firm and you leaned up, putting all your weight into your hips against his as you looked in his eyes. He moaned involuntarily as your hips grinder against him and you smiled shyly. “Yū?” You ask and he runs his hands softly up your thighs, slipping under the hoodie and squeezing your hips “I don’t want to lose you” he says and his voice cracks “not again. Do you think we can make this work?” You beam at him. “Please I want that so bad” you say and he pulls you back down to him with a laugh, making sure your left hand was okay “so you’re my girl now?” He asks with excitement and you giggle and say “yes” he lifts your face to his and kisses you before saying “finally”

#noya #noya x reader #noya imagine #nishinoya yuu #nishinoya yu x reader #nishinoya haikyuu #nishinoya x you #hq nishinoya #hq noya

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borealis-strange · 3 years

Text

Chapter 16: Somebody to love

Summary:

During the time Freddie had been living in the castle, one of the gardeners who worked there had always caught Freddie's attention. A gardener who was always too focused on his work to even notice Freddie. He had never dared speak to him out of a deep fear that he would not be reciprocated, as had happened several times before.

P.S.: There are two chapter left

Tag-list: @whitequeen-ofwillowgreen @likesomekindofcheese @0-primejive-0

One day, when the desire and curiosity to speak to the boy began to torment him, Freddie decided to tell John what was happening, but he waited until there was no one around and said he wanted to talk to him. He went looking for him and with some regret, he decided to ask him for advice.

-Hey, John, can I tell you something?-

-Sure, Freddie, what happened?-

-Well, you see, I ...

And at that moment, Freddie froze and the words didn't want to come out. He didn't know why, if he had a lot of confidence in John ...

-I…-

-Is something wrong, Freddie? You look pretty nervous.-

John was imagining what topic Freddie could refer to, since he probably didn't notice it, but besides his nerves, he was smiling slightly without showing his teeth and he was blushed.

-Well, you see ... - Freddie said, leaving his nerves - I have a certain interest in someone around here ... He is one of the gardeners, but I have never been able to speak to him, I do not want to annoy him or that he does not correspond to me … -

-Oh, I understand, I think you should talk to him ..., and well, I suppose if it doesn't correspond to you at least you will have tried …-

-Well, I'd like to, you know? But the thing is that I get pretty nervous around him, the words just go away and I can't say a "hello" if I want to, and even if I did, it would be too difficult to get from there, I wouldn't know what else to say …-

-Well then, it will be a start ... Could you at least show me who he is?

Freddie thought about it, but figured out that getting some air in the gardens wouldn't hurt.

-Fine, come on, but first come to the kitchen with me for a glass of water. Then we will go see him.-

-Okay, okay. Let's go.-

John said quietly while he had a plan in mind.

They reached the kitchen and Freddie took a glass, put some ice in it, and filled it with water. John looked at him from the door and could notice Freddie's hand shake the water in the glass slightly.

-Easy, Freddie,everything is alright.-

Freddie just looked at him and gave him a slight smile, although it was obvious that he was not at all convinced.

They walked through the palace until they reached the gardens where the queen's favorite rose bushes were, where the gardener usually was, and this time was no exception. There he was, watering the roses.

John could see how Freddie's eyes lit up and he was excited to see him, Freddie just looked at John and then gave his full attention to the young man working, so concentrated that he had not even felt the presence of both there.

Freddie simply watched the boy without daring to speak to him. John pushed Freddie to encourage him to finally speak to the gardener.

This took Freddie completely by surprise, causing him to trip and collide with the gardener.

Ashamed, Freddie quickly moved away from him, and the gardener, surprised by the unusual interruption, got up and saw with amazement who his distractor was.

Freddie held his breath and tried to stay calm, which was impossible being so close to the boy with whom he had been in love for so long.

-I'm sorry, Your Majesty - The gardener said hesitating with his words.

-Don't worry - Freddie said, dismissing it - Besides, it is not ... necessary that you call me majesty. Just tell me Freddie -

-Oh! In that case I am Jim - Jim said with a big smile - But ... aren't you the prince? -

-Yes, but I'm not getting used to that idea. I prefer to be called by my name -

-Okay. Didn't you come for something? -

Freddie froze. He had made no excuse to speak to him in the first place. And obviously he was not going to say "I’m here to confess my love"

-I ... Well, I ... - God Jim's eyes were so beautiful - I ... came to ask you ... for a rose-

Freddie wanted the earth to swallow him right now and punch himself. "I came to ask you for a rose" was without a doubt the most absurd thing he had ever heard. He would have told him another thing, but it was too late.

-Okay - Jim gave a forced smile. Freddie would swear he was disappointed, while Jim turned around looking for the most beautiful rose there was.

-Here it is. Jim gave her a sad look.-

-Thanks, it's beautiful. - Freddie took it with a trembling hand.

Freddie returned to John with the rose in hand.

-And how was it? - John asked when he saw him approach - He gave you a rose! - John said enthusiastically.

-No, I ... I asked him ... - Freddie regretted.

Freddie sighed disappointed. Why couldn't she speak to him like a normal person?

It was a couple of days before Freddie was encouraged to speak to him again and he did not do very well either. They only exchanged a couple of words until Freddie simply left because he couldn't hold his nerves. And so it happened over and over and over again. Every day Jim went to work at the castle Freddie visited him with some silly excuse to talk to him. And all those times, he didn't accomplish anything.

He got to know a few things about him: like he was three years younger than him, that he was not from Rhye but from an island in the south where he grew up all his childhood along with his brothers and that he had been working with the Queen for almost three years.

One day he decided to make some lemonade for Jim as an excuse to talk to him. He went to one of the gardens outside with a tray where he had the pitcher of lemonade and two glasses of ice.

Freddie walked over to where Jim was working.

-Hi Jim! - Freddie greeted cheerfully - I brought some lemonade because ... I imagine it is very hot and you must be tired. -

-Oh! Hi Freddie - He greeted him back as he got up and brushed some dirt from his pants.

-How is everything going around here? - Freddie said while looking at the bushes Jim was pruning.

-Everything is quite calm, it has only been a little hot these days.- Jim said getting a little air with his hat.

-Oh yes, I brought some lemonade because of the heat, it's for you.- Freddie said serving the glasses.

-Oh, I ... Thank you very much Freddie. -Jim said taking the glass and smiling slightly at him.

-It's nothing.- Freddie replied taking a light sip of his lemonade.

After that they did not talk much, there was only a long silence between them and the occasional look. But it was not an uncomfortable silence, on the contrary, it was calm and even relaxing. The two of us together enjoying each other's company and the serenity of the garden.

Jim was trying to get closer to Freddie and seemed to want to say something to him but he regretted it at the last second.

-It is best to continue with the work - Jim said once he finished with his drink.

-Yes. See you another day - Freddie began to collect the glasses - It was very nice to spend time with you. -

He got up and grabbed the things to take them to the kitchen.

He didn't take two steps when Jim called him.

-Wait - Freddie came back again - ... A friend of mine is going to open a restaurant near here, and ... I didn't know if ... you wanted to go to dinner with me. -

Freddie's eyes lit up.

-Seriously? - Freddie still could not believe that the boy of his dreams was inviting him to dinner.

He didn't have to be excited… They were just going to dinner as friends. Nothing more than that.

-Yes! - Jim said with a big smile - Are you free tonight? -

Freddie without hesitation quickly accepted.

-Of course. -

-Very good. Then see you later. -

Freddie said goodbye and went back into the castle. He couldn't believe it, was he dreaming? He could feel his face burning and his heart pounding strongly in his chest.

Freddie left the things in the kitchen and went to his room with little jumps of happiness and singing a song.

-And...? - John asked when Freddie arrived at his room. He was sitting on his bed reading a magazine. - How did it go this time?

Freddie collapsed on his bed and hid his face with his hands to prevent John from seeing how flushed he was.

-I was invited to dinner! - Freddie said excitedly while playing with a pillow.

-Seriously?! - John exclaimed, amazed and very happy by his friend. - That is great! -

-I don't have to be so excited… We will only go out as friends. - Freddie said reducing his emotion.

-Still, it's a breakthrough. - John said in a certainly comforting way. His characteristic sincerity was notorious.

Freddie considered it for a moment. Maybe they didn't have much chance that they were a couple, but at least their friendship was progressing little by little. He could learn a little more about their interests, and even if they are not together, Freddie was happy if Jim was.

Now she had a bigger problem to worry about: his "date" with Jim. He had no idea what he was going to wear. He couldn't go with what he had on, he had to use something better, something more elegant. But there is no need to exaggerate either, since it was only a casual dinner.

John tried to help him but since he had no idea of fashion he just told him if he liked something or not. Although it didn't matter what he said, Freddie was not convinced that he looked good enough.

In the end he opted for a black t-shirt and a sack of yellow flowers, with his usual jeans and boots. It wasn't a big deal, but it was appropriate for dining out with a friend.

Jim didn't specify a time, however he believed it should be around… 7 p.m.? Maybe at 8? Maybe 8 o'clock was a good time.

He left the castle at a quarter to eight and he waited for Jim. His hands kept sweating t and he was constantly cleaning them on his pants. He didn't have to worry too much about it, it wasn't like Jim was going to take his hand, although that would be nice.

He didn't have to wait long since Jim arrived soon after. He was wearing a red plaid shirt and a jacket.

-Sorry, I forgot to specify an hour, have you been waiting here for a long time?- Jim asked with a slight tone of concern.

-Oh don't worry, I've only been here a few minutes. Also, I took some fresh air and enjoy the gardens ... They are very nice ... - Freddie was a little nervous, but decided to relax a little and try to enjoy that time with Jim.

-I'm glad you like them, I enjoy working on them. - Jim said. - Besides, it never hurts to appreciate the beauty of the flowers - Jim said looking at an intact yellow flower from one of the bushes. Freddie just stared at him with mixed attention, curiosity, and intrigue. It was so nice of Jim to talk like that. The same voice of Jim after a few seconds of silence took him out of his trance: - Anyway, are we leaving? - Freddie nodded.

Freddie and Jim crossed the street, started walking, and got closer and closer to the city center. Among the old buildings restored to be converted into a business, stood a rustic red ocher building, about 3 floors, which looked quite old in itself but with an impeccably maintained and restored facade, with translucent white curtains on each of the windows. There were rustic lights that illuminated the walls with photographs and the wooden floor inside, you could hear the laughter from people who made the place to seem really cozy, plus a terrace that looked quite nice, illuminated by series of spotlights that gave a certain warmth to the place, although it was cool and you could even say it would be a little cold that night. It was all topped with a medium-sized neon sign "open" above the door.

It was Jim's friend's restaurant. It looked quite nice and cozy, but judging by how well built and stable it looked, as well as its historic location, Freddie had a slight suspicion that this restaurant had not just opened.

-It's pretty cute, isn't it? - Jim said to Freddie, who probably noticed the young prince's astonished look.

-Of course. - Freddie replied to Jim, who saw many people inside laughing while dining.

-So ... Let's go inside, it's a bit cold, don't you think?

Freddie just nodded slightly and they both made synchronized steps toward the entrance to the restaurant. Jim gave way to Freddie, and he was delighted with what his eyes saw: a restaurant, bar, and café at the same time: 3 different floors, one for each, but it was certainly quite extensive. There were several tables and almost all of them were full, vintage lights illuminated the room and there were photographs and paintings hanging on the walls, which like the floor, had a rustic wood finish. There was very nice music in the background, which in turn merged with the many lively conversations and laughter of all the people dining there. Not even one minutes passed when someone came to attend them:

-Jim! Hello! How nice to see you! - Exclaimed a young woman with great excitement as she hugged Jim. She was short, with brown wavy hair, and brown eyes framed by dark violet glasses, she was wearing a red apron with a black long-sleeved top underneath and black jeans.

-Elizabeth! Hello! - Jim exclaimed enthusiastically.

-I'm so glad to see you, a lot has happened! Since you work with the queen you take very few breaks to come.- Elizabeth said somewhat calmer. - Well, who is he? - She said looking at Freddie.

-Oh, he is ... He is ... Freddie, a friend of mine ... - Jim said trying to sound as convincing as possible.

-Nice to meet you ... - Freddie said somewhat disappointed. First of all, who was that girl and why had she greeted Jim so frantically? Oh, he was jealous, it can't be ... And also "friend" ... He supposed he would have to resign himself, it was just the first time they went out, plus that's what they were for the moment, friends.

-I'm Elizabeth Hutton, sorry I didn't mention it before, but I'm always very excited to see my brother.-

Her sister, of course! They have a certain resemblance when looking at her more closely, their eyes were quite similar as was the shape of their eyebrows and nose.

-Well, what are you going to want? - Elizabeth said taking out a small notebook and a pen.

-A table for two, one of those on the shore. - Jim said smiling at his younger sister.

-Okay, let's go. - Said the girl starting to walk towards the tables that were on the shore.

Freddie followed Jim and his sister, increasingly confirming his suspicion that the restaurant was nothing new. First its location, then its stability, its rustic touches, Jim's sister telling him that he never has time to go to the restaurant ... They reached the table and Freddie could see the paintings and photographs hanging on the wall. In colors, black and white, sepia, all framed and very well preserved. It looked as if they had been taken and framed instantly, but none of them had been worn out. There were photos up to 1920, incredible. They sat at the table, nothing unusual. One of those traditional tables that are attached to the wall, with 2 armchairs one on each side.

They both sat down, facing each other. Elizabeth handed each of them a menu. "In a moment I will take your order," she said before retiring.

Freddie scanned the menu for something interesting, but it was impossible to decide, honestly everything looked delicious. There were so many options and he was just seeing the menu when Jim intervened: -Problems deciding? -Jim asked playfully.

-Yes, a little bit. - Freddie answered without looking up from the menu.

Jim leaned across the table and pointed to one of the meals.

-I recommend this one. -

Freddie observed what Jim was recommending to him.

-Paella? -

-Exactly - Jim said proudly as he returned to his place. - Nowhere will you find a better paella than there is here. -

Freddie accepted. Despite living in Rhye for a couple of years, he had never tried paella, even though it is the most characteristic dish in the country.

Shortly afterwards Elizabeth arrived to take orders:

-So, what did you fancy? - She asked with the notebook in her hand.

-Two orders of paella. - Jim said looking at Freddie as he nodded back.

-Do you want something to drink? -

-A beer - Jim said without much thought. - Dark-

-Me too. - said Freddie

Elizabeth wrote it down in her notebook and left.

Jim started asking Freddie a few questions about his life, mainly before he was a prince. Freddie with some nervousness and trying not to give too many details; He might be hopelessly in love with Jim but wouldn’t reveal his darkest secrets. Not yet.

Soon after, Elizabeth arrived with her food and drinks. Paella was a dish where its main main ingredient was rice accompanied by vegetables, seafood and chicken. Freddie tried it for the first time and it was just delicious. He didn't know why he had lasted so long without having tried it.

Freddie expected dinner to be the most awkward thing in the world, where neither of them would say a word. But luckily, it was the most natural thing that a first date could go.

Being with Jim gave him a certain feeling of tranquility and security, and he had not felt like this for a long time, if he had ever felt this way before.

They continued talking while eating paella and drinking beer, Freddie loved the paella and Jim jokingly told him that they could come back whenever he wanted, although of course he would love to, but he did not say so.

The talk was based on questions, answers and an occasional anecdote related to some of the above. They both had a lot of fun, and it made Freddie more and more intrigued to learn more about Jim.

After a long time, they both finished their food and drinks, so Freddie went to the bathroom quickly to "wash his hands" and do some exploring. Jim indicated where he was: at the bottom and to the side of the stairs to go up to the cafe.

Freddie was passing between the tables, analyzing in detail but quickly everything that was on the wall. Mostly photos but with some other paintings, he was realizing that those photos had many years of being taken, but among them was one that caught his attention very particularly.

After washing his hands, he looked towards the stairs. They were beautiful, 3 steps in front, a space of approximately 1x1 and then they turned to the right to continue towards the café. A large chandelier hanging from the ceiling just above the stairwell illuminated a large, sepia-colored photo, carefully framed and so that it was striking as soon as it was visible. The photo was of the same restaurant, in a different time, just when it was inaugurated. Below, in the legend, you could read "Serving since 1918." written in handwritten calligraphy, quite sloping and elegant. "I caught you, Jim ..."

Freddie returned to the table and put himself in plan to pretend not to know anything, to take Jim by surprise:

-Hey Jim, how old is this place? - Freddie asked innocently.

-It is very old. I think it's about fifty years old or something. -

-AHA! - Freddie exclaimed and pointed accusingly at Jim - I knew this place was not new. -

Jim laughed a little at Freddie's reaction.

-Okay, you caught me. It was just ... an excuse to have dinner with you -

Freddie's heart stopped for a second. Was he talking seriously? You could tell he was talking seriously. But why? Did… did he have some kind of interest in him?

Freddie's thoughts were interrupted when Elizabeth arrived with the bill. Freddie intended to pay but Jim stopped him. So Jim paid.

When leaving the restaurant the night had already fallen, and the streetlights illuminated the street. There weren't too many people outside, which was good, so they could both walk quietly without worrying about being seen together.

They walked for a while until they reached a lonely but cute park. They decided to sit on a bench.

The trees moved with the light wind, the environmental noises of both the city and nature could be heard, and it was clear, the full moon was appreciated.

-Isn't the sky beautiful? - Jim pointed out while looking at the night sky.

Freddie did the same and appreciated it as did Jim. Although they were in the city, some stars could be seen.

-I remember when I was a child ... - Jim spoke again - My grandfather used to take me to the field and teach me about the constellations and the universe. -

Freddie turned to see Jim who was still seeing the sky. And he looked closely at his face. An expression of melancholy loomed in him, with a slightly sad smile, as if he saw everything he was saying in his mind.

-I still remember all the legends about the constellations that he used to tell me. - Jim sighed nostalgically - He also said that all good people go to heaven and ... they become stars. I always see the sky and remember all the moments I spend with him. -

Jim moved a little closer to him and tried to take his hand. Freddie instinctively removed his hand and cleared his throat a little.

-I think it would be nice to go camping someday, you know? - Freddie said almost without thinking- So you could show me the stars -

Jim turned to look completely excited.

-It is an excellent idea! - Jim exclaimed and hugged Freddie. - In summer is the best time to see the stars - Jim said with a huge sparkle in his eyes - It is when the sky is clearest -

Had he just invited Jim over? To camp? The two of them alone in the middle of nowhere?

They continued talking, rather Jim was talking, about constellations and legends. Freddie just watched him delighted paying attention to every detail. It was just beautiful and charming to hear Jim hear something he was passionate about.

Freddie did not know how long they lasted there but it was not that he cared much; he had spent one of the best days of his life with Jim.

Jim accompanied Freddie through the lonely downtown streets, since he didn't want him to go alone to the castle. The night breeze was beginning to blow making Freddie shiver a little. Freddie hugged himself to try to keep warm.

He didn't think he was going to stay late on the street, so he didn't bring any kind of coat; Jim, on the other hand, was wearing a jacket that looked quite warm.

Freddie fantasized about the idea of borrowing it and feeling its warmth.

"It's silly," thought Freddie at that idea. It would be strange if a friend lent him his jacket to cover himself from the cold, although it would be nice.

Finally, they reached the castle entrance.

-See you tomorrow - Jim said goodbye to Freddie shaking his hand.

Jim reached out and kissed Freddie on the cheek before retiring.

Freddie felt his face burn; Fortunately Jim was no longer around to see him blush.

Maybe he had finally found someone to love.

#The March of the Black Queen #my fic #freddie mercury #roger taylor #john deacon #brian may #magic au

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fangirlxwritesx67 · 4 years

Text

Cross Timbers

Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum, Sam Winchester x Jody Mills, no warnings, G-rated

Chapter 1 - 1830 words

A/N: This story was just a passing idea until I brought it up in my Slack chat and got a ton of great ideas from the folks there! Friends, I hope I have remembered everyone’s ideas and done them justice. Thanks for this and everything else!

@boondoctorwho , @cherry3point14, @cracksinthewalls, @dawnie1988 @fookinghelljensensthighs , @icemankazansky, @itmighthavebeenintentional , @justcallmeasmodeus , @lastactiontricia , @mskathywriteswords , @rockhoochie , @there-must-be-a-lock , @thoughtslikeaminefield

_/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_

"You ready Sam? Ladies?" Dean asked.

"Oh yah, you betcha!" Donna exclaimed, swatting his ass playfully as she walked around Baby to hop in the passenger side.

Sam was already in his SUV, Jody by his side. He gave his brother a broad wave.

"Cross Timbers State Park. Here we come!"

_/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_

It had started one cold night earlier that year. The four of them were at Jody’s in Sioux Falls, relaxing with pizza and beers after a hunt. Sam couldn’t remember how they had gotten on the topic, maybe joking about making dinner in the fireplace.

Dean had begun to wax eloquent about the best parts of camping: cooking around a campfire, fishing, and of course, tent sex. Donna was nodding along eagerly before Sam scoffed.

“That’s your favorite part of camping, Dean, really? The closest we’ve ever gotten to camping is sleeping in the Impala in a field somewhere when we didn’t have any place else to go.”

Dean looked down and shrugged sadly. “Ok, so maybe I’ve never been camping. But it always sounded like fun.”

“Never been camping?!” Donna’s mouth dropped open.

“Oh, boys,” Jody chimed in. “We have to fix this. There are so many great places we could go, either here or in Kansas.”

“We could show you such a good time!” Donna added with a giggle. “But not right now. It’s too cold right now to sleep any place but my own cozy bed.”

It turned out that the bed in Jody’s guest room was cozy enough for Donna, especially once Dean joined her there. Sam didn’t mind, though, since he was in Jody’s own bed with her.

_/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_

Sam and Dean had long since forgotten the camping conversation, but they soon discovered the ladies had not. In early April, the two of them began to hint in the group chat that the four of them should go camping. It took no time at all to realize it was less a suggestion and more a coordinated campaign to rope the Winchesters into camping.

The ladies were pleasantly surprised when it didn’t take that much effort. Sam and Dean knew better than to argue with the combined power of Jody and Donna. They knew they were outsmarted in the camping department, but they were eager to learn, to try the experience.

Jody and Donna had already determined that state park was the perfect camping spot. Remote enough to have plenty of trees, hiking trails, and water for canoeing or fishing, but still with a certain amount of running water and facilities for drinking and basic hygiene.

Dean immediately appointed himself in charge of meal planning, because of course he was. Sam started researching camping equipment and gadgets, digging out back issues of magazines and shopping on Amazon. The group chat was busy for weeks while the four of them planned and prepped.

The ladies rolled into town and spent one night at the bunker so they could all shop and pack before heading out. It took a surprising amount of gear to go off-grid, tents and sleeping bags and more. Donna brought an air mattress, although Dean laughed and assured her they would be fine roughing it. They packed their clothes in canvas duffels: jeans and button downs, hiking boots and sandals, and of course, swimsuits.

Dean brought his guitar and fishing tackle. Sam brought a book, a notebook and new pens, as well as several boxes of unidentified tubes and pipes.

“So many years after college and still a nerd, huh, big guy?” Dean joked when he saw it.

“I don’t get much time to do what I want, whatever I want,” Sam retorted. “I’m not sorry I’ll be reading in a hammock while you drink beer and dangle a line in the water and call that fishing.”

“Hey, at least if I’m successful, we have something to eat.”

“Everyone finds their own happiness.” Donna interrupted with a grin. “You boys ready?”

_/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_

Cross Timbers State Park was about 4 hours away, and the afternoon sun was still warm and bright when they pulled up. They rented adjoining camping spots, patches of clear level ground amidst the towering trees. There was a firepit already set in an iron ring, and the first thing the Winchester brothers did was haul the two picnic tables to either side.

After that, they took a moment to ward the site, putting salt and sigils on every corner to keep themselves safe. Once done, they returned to the picnic tables where Jody and Donna were setting out supplies.

Dean, as head of meal planning, reminded everyone that dinner that night would be in Donna’s hands. She had requested a list of sandwich supplies. She went to one of her bags and pulled out a set of sandwich making irons.

“These good old irons will make the best Pudgie Pies you ever tasted!” she crowed.

“Pudgie Pies?” Sam whispered to Dean.

“It’s sandwiches and a campfire, I’m in,” he answered out of one side of his mouth.

The two Winchesters left the ladies prepping food while they headed to opposite sides of the joined campsites to set up their tents. Their initial research into tent dimensions had been shocking. So-called “two person” tents clearly didn’t take into account one of those people being well over 6 feet.

In the end, they bought a pair of tents, each of them marketed to sleep six. Each tent seemed to have almost enough room for a couple, their duffels, and the Thermarest sleeping pads that Jody brought.

Sam spent a few minutes studying the instructions and then laid out the interlocking frame poles and nylon tent body exactly as directed. He understood the directions, but even with his reach, he couldn’t quite do it himself. Without him asking, Jody stepped to his side.

“It’s easier together,” she said as she took the opposite corner of the tent.

The tent rose between their hands, and they staked it down securely. He arranged the bedding, rolling out sleeping bags and pillows, then stacked their bags neatly against one corner of the front wall.

The tent had a small awning over the door, a space for them to kick off their shoes. Jody had brought a sun-bleached rag rug that she laid out right there. It was no bunker, but for a temporary habitat, well, he had seen worse. Once he had everything staked down, he looked across the campsite.

Dean’s tent was a tangle of nylon on the ground. He was holding poles in both hands and swearing, the instructions nowhere to be seen.

Sam started to close the space between them. “Can I give you a hand?” he called.

“I don’t need a hand!” Dean shouted, before throwing down the poles. “I’m gonna go get … water!” He stormed off into the deepening twilight.

Sam followed the same steps he had before, but once he had the ridgepole assembled and in the tent, he called for his brother.

“Dean, I need help.” No matter how much Dean protested that he could do things by himself, he would never dream of letting his younger brother down when he needed him. Together, the two Winchesters finished setting up the second tent.

Just in time, because Donna called from beside the fire, “Oh boys! Time to make Pudgie Pies!”

Packages of ham and turkey were open alongside a stack of American cheese and a loaf of bread. There was mayonnaise and mustard, pickles and tomatoes too, Donna demonstrated how to coat the irons with cooking spray before layering in the sandwich makings, while Jody stoked the fire.

A couple of sandwiches were burned in the process, but ultimately, everyone had dinner. They opened beers from the cooler and settled into folding chairs around the fire and passed around a bag of potato chips.

“Hey you know what this needs?” Dean spoke up. “Ghost stories!”

Everyone nodded enthusiastically, so he gave it his best shot. He opted for a classic, the hook hand in the car door. Somehow he managed to fumble it, much to the bewilderment of his audience.

“Dude,” Sam cut in. “How can you be so bad at this? Our lives are a ghost story. You literally could’ve told me how you spent your Monday morning and it would’ve been scarier than that story was.

Dean looked to Donna and Jody for support but they shook their heads as Sam continued.

“You want a horror story? How about you in the morning, no coffee, no bacon, no nothing.”

“No nothin’?” Donna chimed in. “Now that I’d like to see.” She held out her hand with a smirk, and Dean took it.

The four of them were comfortable together, Dean and Donna, Sam and Jody. This was a rare moment of ease for them, no one worrying about anything, just enjoying one another.

But camping was a new thing for the brothers, still a whole different experience. They let the fire burn down and then everyone brushed their teeth at the pump out in front of their campsites, downing meds with handfuls of the metallic water.

Sam and Jody ducked together into their neatly organized tent, leaving their shoes outside on the rag rug under the awning. That night, just being together was enough. They held hands and whispered to one another until they drifted off to sleep.

Dean and Donna tumbled into their tent, kicking their shoes off as an afterthought. They were too tired for more than sleep. But sleep eluded them. Well, it eluded Dean. Donna settled in comfortably and drifted off. But he tossed and turned on the hard ground.

By Dean’s watch, it was past midnight when Donna woke up and nudged him.

“Still awake?”

“No, I’m fine. I just -- can’t sleep.” He hated to admit it.

He was a hunter, after all. He had been to heaven and hell and back. Damned if he would be beaten by a thin foam sleeping pad. But the front seat of Baby was more comfortable than this sad excuse for a bed.

Without speaking, Donna got up. Dean reached for her but she was too quick. He heard the door to Sam’s SUV open, and then a motor running. He drifted in and out of a drowsy sulk until he heard her voice calling him softly in the dark.

“Dean,” she called from the door of the tent trying to wrestle in a giant air mattress. He got up and helped her to bring it in, lifting their sleeping bags and pillow on top.

“Really?” he asked, his voice rough from trying to sleep.

“Okay, sure, Princess,” she answered with a giggle. “It’s me that can’t rough it, not you.”

Cross Timbers Tags: @deangirl7695, @elliloumom, @meeshw777

“Hush,” he told her as he settled down and held out one arm. She sighed happily and curled into his embrace. Finally, for the first time all night, Dean was comfortable. His eyes grew heavy, and he yawned. Then he fell asleep with Donna’s blonde curls against his face.

_/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_

SPN First Last and Always: @boondoctorwho @dawnie1988 @deanwanddamons @defenderrosetyler @divadinag @emoryhemsworth @fookinghelljensensthighs @idreamofplaid @kalesrebellion @kickingitwithkirk @maddiepants @magssteenkamp @onethirstyunicorn @there-must-be-a-lock @tloveswriting

Sam Girl For Life: @awesomesusiebstuff @lilsylvia @winchesterxfamilybusiness

Dean Curious:@adoptdontshoppets @awesomesusiebstuff @deangirl7695 @deans-baby-momma @mrsjenniferwinchester @stoneyggirl @wayward-gypsy @winchesterxfamilybusiness

#winchester camping trip #dean x donna #sam x jody #winchester brothers fanfiction #cross timbers

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baobaojng · 4 years

Text

remember

remember - lee taeyong.

wordcount ; 4514 ?

*fluff + angst

sum; accidents, amnesia, and a hopelessly persistent still-in-love boyfriend

it was the moment when she first woke up after the accident. she sat up straight leaning against the poor heightened headboard of the hospital bed, putting her left hand over her forehead as if tending to the adjustment her body went through being awake.

the doctor’s monitors went off, urging everybody to rush into her private room - curious to see how the patient was doing.

the accident happened exactly twenty-two days before, the rarity of comas that lasted more than two weeks was already a warning sign that she was in bad condition; she had been in a coma for all those twenty-two days.

so as the loud footsteps of running doctors and nurses came into play across the hallways, lee taeyong woke up from his little nap as well.

it had been a routine for him. everyday he would wait in the hospital, it seemed as if he grew acquainted with each and every waiting bench in the building at this point; he had been waiting for the love of his life to wake up for the past twenty-two days.

once he heard the alarming sounds of feet clattering on across the floorboards of the hospital, he snapped awake, his instinct telling him that whatever urgent matter was happening at that moment - it was some sort of urgent matter that concerned himself. so he did not take the time to settle his after-nap state of drowsiness, instead he brushed himself off of the seat and jolted to her room.

he pushed himself through the sea of doctors, his mind hoping for the best. he was warned so many times before of her condition - how miraculous it would be if she could make it through her coma, and a part of himself had thought that as he was taking each step into her room that she was fine.

and he was right. she was fine. she just woke up.

his heavy heart felt relieved of the weight they carried within those quick steps he took to see her.

relief did not last as long as he desired though— for her confused eyes laid on him as if she had seen the most bizarre and alien thing.

“miss y/l/n?” the doctor asked at the patient who just awoke, but her vision and her focus had been set to the boy who stood only meters from the edge of her bed.

“who’s he?” she asked the doctor, referring to the boy.

then suddenly, his heart felt too heavy for him to breathe.

- day 2

he came back the next day, preparing a hard drive with Friends and a couple more Korean dramas that he recalled she adored.

after she had asked for his identity the night prior, the doctors told her that she knew him, and the moment they were done assessing her - they informed taeyong that the diagnostics showed that it was very likely and very obvious that the accident caused more than the coma she endured: it came with losing parts of her memory.

his immediate reaction was of devastation, but with every fibre of his being, the boy realized one thing—

he loved her enough to wait through this.

he knocked on the soft brown shade of the glossy wooden door of her private room, his other arm clutching all of the things that he prepared for her. she mumbled for him to come in with the knocking of his hands.

“good morning.” he tried his best to mutter his most enthusiastic greeting, wearing an accommodating smile on his face; he wanted to try his best for her.

her expression was of surprise, her features perking as she lay in bed, “oh, hello.” she replied as she tilted her head a certain angle to examine his presence, knowing he was the same boy she saw the day before.

to him, it felt so bittersweet that she was finally awake - yes, she wasn’t rapped within the bounds of her coma any longer, but as he looked at the way her cheeks hollowed and how puffy her eyes were— he realized just how much she looked like she was suffering.

he could feel his heart strangled by his ribcage, his lungs also affected by the way nothing clouded in his throat - to him it brought heartbreak that she had suffered so much, and now she probably did not even know much of her life.

but instead he just held his hopes up and plastered fake encouragement just because he loved her that much. he loved her enough to do anything for her.

she noticed his silence and cleared her throat, “i’m sorry, i might seem rude, but this is all just so foreign to me so i don’t have any idea how react right now.” she chuckled nervously, “but if it makes things any better, i want you to know that i don’t mind you staying; it’s comforting that somebody who used to be in my life’s around– i could use some catching up with myself.” she pointed at the little couch that was next to her bed, inviting him to stay.

he nodded, “i hope it won’t be weird that i’m deliberately coming to visit you.” he told her nervously.

“no,” she paused for a bit, “the nurses and doctors told me that you’ve been doing that the moment i’ve been confined in here.” she mindlessly looked around at the blanks of the room. he chuckled lightly, not wanting to be standoffish.

she looked straight back at him, catching him in surprise, “you’re the only family i’ve got, i suppose.” she said to him.

in that moment cold sweat trickled down at the back of his neck, a sign of guilt and tremor piling up around to send little lingering fragments of the accident. ‘family,’ she had said - her lack of knowledge shielding her from what she did not know.

“i guess so.” it almost came out as a grumble as he walled toward the little couch.

“so what are we going to do today?” she asked him as he settled down with the stuff he brought, her little burst of enthusiasm took him by surprise.

“want to watch some shows?” he raised a brow very slightly, “you used to like them before.”

“why not? there isn’t anything else to do here, right?” she managed to joke a bit. he laughed a bit, awkwardness peering through, he stood up to set up the downloads to be displayed on the flat-screen the room had, cables set on each end of what needed to be plugged in.

twenty minutes into the first episode of the first drama taeyong turned on, she sat there with knitted brows as the creases on her forehead turned to wrinkle.

“i’m sorry taeyong, i’m just not following on this.” she pointed at the screen, referring to whatever it was they were watching.

“oh, okay, i’ll just turn it off then.” he quickly turned into his mode of panic - figuring that it was only just for him to follow onto the demand of that of the one with amnesia.

before he could stumble upon saying anything remotely odd to suggest, a band of medical staff made their way into the room, the doctor immediately paying attention to taeyong’s presence.

“i’m sorry sir, we have to make assessments on the patient. we hate to forgo any sort of reunion or visitation, but i’m afraid we have to escort you out of the room.” the man in the laboratory gown informed him and taeyong nervously nodded his head.

- day 3

he decided on a different approach, something he knew was close to her— yes, today food would be the testing factor on the matter.

so with bags of fancy packed ramen and other food from the restaurant they used to frequently go to - he charged into the room, making sure that there weren’t surprise checks from the doctors today and that he would have time with her.

there she was, reading a magazine from the pile on the little table by her bedside, caught off guard by his arrival - almost falling off bed.

“hi.” she squeaked out of embarrassment, smiling enough that her eyes were semi-closed.

“hello.” he tried to wave despite the weight of the objects he carried.

“what’s up lee taeyong?” she tried to be casual despite having almost zero knowledge on her visitor.

“i don’t know… i was thinking if maybe a certain y/n wanted some lunch.” he pretended to look around to allow the teasing to bleed through.

“of course she does!” she turned very excited upon hearing such, “hospital food and i haven’t gotten along very well lately.” she shrugged and he hurried to get the little table for patients to eat in bed.

she sat up straight as he set the table to stand just by her midriff, their closeness in proximity making him a bit stiff. it was not the right time for him to be reminiscent of their relationship before the fabled accident, but it left an impression of emptiness how she was so close to him now physically - but somehow what they were was something she’d forgotten - their love but a dream tossed down the drain to flow into water systems of nothing.

when he realized that maybe the sudden frozen state of him setting up her 'bed table’ might have put her off, he turned around to pretend like he needed to urgently tend to the bowls of still hot ramen.

he laid the food at the platform that stood at a small height on her bed, she was growing excited at the sight of new food.

“i’m not - not allowed to eat this, am i?” she made sure as she already clutched the chopsticks in between the spaces of her fingers.

“you aren’t,” he sat himself down the almost familiar sofa next to her bed as he got his bowl of ramen, “i made sure that it wouldn’t be disruptive of any tests of medication they’re making you take.” he fed himself a couple noodle strings.

“thank you taeyong.” she turned her head a bit to make him notice that she was giving him a gesture - she smiled to him, the kind he knew was genuine, or well at least the level of genuine that he knew.

then it came like small hits to the head, his mind flooded to him pictures of her smile like once before. the times they spent walking home as the sun set upon the streets of Seoul, interlocking hands as his gaze laid on her sun sparkled eyes— her smile creating mounds of creasing by the edges the ends of her lips. the times they would laugh at each other, how after the laughing’s prime would come to die down she would look at him like her whole world— that same smile placed in those same sentiments.

funny how as if it were him who revived memories, not her.

“don’t mention it.” he said after he ate that recent bite of his.

“i don’t think i remember anything else to stop me from thanking you. i’m glad that at least someone who cares about me makes about the first few new memories in my head.” she still hadn’t eaten, instead rambling.

“new memories? are there old ones?” he was curious upon her choice of words.

“of course. like my name, communicative language, reading, i think i remember colors and culture, and maybe a bit more - i just can’t be too specific about them.” she explained to him, and a lump in his throat grew.

right now, what she didn’t know won’t hurt her.

“but you know this food makes me curious.” she pointed forwardly at the array of noodles in front of her, splashing in to grab at the foreign egg and flour dish - no longer second guessing at the suspiciously red soup that it submerged itself in.

“why don’t you try –” he spoke too soon, for she had already stuffed her face with the dish, but a scary mix of what sounded like a regurgitated squeal escaped her lips.

“it’s spicy!” she exclaimed, another thing out of the ordinary for taeyong; she always enjoyed spicy food before.

she started fanning at her open mouth, hoping to find relief at the sensation. taeyong hurriedly grabbed the closest plastic cup of red iced tea, handing it to her once it fell into his grasp. the girl readily accepted this by gulping down the cup, and once she reached the final drop - she set the empty paper cup down, panting.

it startled taeyong. he felt that maybe his flaw at getting the food would make her dislike him— he was so afraid of that. this time around there were no factions on her loving him; it was about starting anew. their relationship was a blank canvas waiting to be filled in by whatever they could possibly fill it up with.

he did not want to get off at a bad start.

so the momentary silence that followed with the girl looking at the empty iced tea cup and him just standing next to her scared him, but there was an air of difference once her gaze rested on him.

she laughed, open-heartedly laughed.

it surprised him how much he could be surprised by this girl.

wetness welled in the waterline of her eyes, the laughter still flowing uncontrollably. she understood the premise of the situation, but it brought joy to her clueless mind.

and to him, hearing the rings of her laughter, filled up his heart with a level of joy he seemed to have forgotten so long ago.

- day 8

if not for his job threatening that he would be fired, or even lowered down a position, he would have visited fluidly and frequently. alas, he had to cut his visits short for the six days that passed after the ramen-related incident.

those days of short visits were mostly of her bored, describing to him how stressful hospitals were and how much she’d love to go and venture outside the confining walls— though she oddly skipped out her winding curiosity of what her life was once before, knowing that maybe taeyong would be rather uncomfortable talking about such. or maybe the time wasn’t right.

this played well along for taeyong, dodging the questions that would make things awfully awkward. though, it hurt as equally as it relieved him; he was having a hard time accepting the very large possibility of their relationship not being revived at all.

but his persistence could not be pulled down by strings of avoidance, he was willing to scale the world if it meant that she would be okay.

today was different though, the moment he walked through the door of her same room she was sat eagerly at the edge of the bed as if waiting for the door to open. once he got in her face fell onto a happy smile. they very much saw each other each day, but the air to her felt as if she actually missed him - she missed a man she did not know by detail, but she missed him because he was actually growing on her.

she pat on the empty side of the bed next to her, inviting him to sit there with her. and so he strode across to be sat there, but her gaze lingered on his frame - a gaze he could feel.

“uh… y/n?” he tilted his head to the side, sort of creeped out at her.

“oh? am i startling?” she suddenly felt conscious, putting her right hand behind her head.

to him it was cute, how the blush crept to her cheeks. he busted a small smile out himself, his adorably boxed but also rounded smile painted across his mouth.

“for you,” he looked at her, “i’ll try and say that you aren’t, not even in the slightest.” he chuckled so lightly.

“oh taeyong.” she decided to lay on his lap, her upper body dropping down on top his legs.

he just looked at her, how her hair messed about in figures of random strays.

“when you leave, most times i get trapped by my thoughts - maybe i had a good life, maybe a bad one. that i don’t know.” she starts to mumble, but to an extent that he could understand her. “whatever the case was back then, i don’t think i would mind. i’d love to remember if it meant knowing who you were to me; you’re too kind for words.” she stared up at him with her saturated eyes, his own looking back directly at her.

met by silence, she continued talking.

“taeyong, it isn’t fair that you’re doing all this for me.” she commented.

“what?” he wasn’t sure about what she was pertaining to.

“you came here everyday for more than a week now, and it seems like you come over to pamper and cater to my needs.” she huffed.

he laughed, “aren’t those what visitors do during hospital visits?”

“no,” she shook her head, “i meant that there’s never time to give recognition to you.” she giggled.

“i don’t think that part matters right now.” he brushed it off.

“when will it then?” she asked him with wide glassy eyes.

“when i feel like you can handle knowing.” he shrugged.

“what are you? some kind of spy then?” she said sarcastically.

“close enough,” he leaned near enough to her ear, “i’m the Queen of England.” he whispered.

“you’re kidding.” she gasped, covering her mouth the hung agape with her hand.

“i wish i were, dear. i wish i were.” he answered cockily, riding onto the joke he had just established.

- day 14

the doctors permitted for both of them to stroll around the hospital today.

as boring as that sounded, to them it was like parents allowing them to walk through a carnival independently.

it was new, their seemingly arranged set up of sitting on her hospital bed or staying on each other’s respective areas on the sofa or bed were now faded into the hospital room. now they had hallways, floors, the glass walls that painted light into the white colored interior.

this was all such a mystery to them, how now it seemed that they were of a certain level of comfort. in a lot of different senses though they still had such strange and mysterious feelings toward each other.

it felt like it was something they had both decided to do on their own: not feeling up on anything that could potentially damage the safe zone they had built around each other.

because now they could talk about the nonsense dreams she had, how already drained he was of his job, about the stars she would secretly stay up for at night even if she had a bedtime in the hospital, how he once dyed his hair a very eccentric shade of green, and maybe even things they could do once she would be admitted out.

how far-fetched it was— only two weeks laid in both their palms that they have spent with each other, another two lay there for time to tell if they would still do the same. but in those two weeks that had already come to pass, it was okay.

“honestly, the only real reason i wanted to go out was to check out the mystical vending machines i watched last night in one of the dramas you left behind for me to watch.” she said, joking that she did not look forward to having him around.

“the only real reason why i come around is to check out the hot nurses who run from the ER.” he rolled his eyes, pushing to shove the same humored joke.

“ouch, that stings taeyong.” she held her heart in fake agony.

“it better be.” he goofily stuck his tongue out.

“i know you love me.” she hummed as she skipped to the vending machine she talked about earlier. he stood behind, swept by the movement of air that followed by the way she walked skipped.

oh how cruel that she would bring that up— him loving her. if they were not joking around, and if she had not lost her memory - he would have told her that the real reason he was there beside her in every fleeting moment that he had the opportunity to was simply because he loved her. he loved her so much.

but lee taeyong had to bite his tongue and refrain from saying anything remotely near that.

well, he could be discrete about it and sneak it into humorous conversation when possible, but that was beside the point.

he did not realize that he was frozen in that spot until she came back sipping her drink in satisfaction.

“taeyong?” she called for his name, and arrows shot at him from agony to happiness.

how bittersweet that she could not remember.

- day 23

nobody expected this.

she was doing perfectly fine, the twenty-three days after waking up only pointed to signs that she way okay. she was okay. she was okay. there were no problems with anything.

but one day she simply could not move properly, her bones did not feel as stable - and she had no energy to push herself to even adjust from the sleeping position she had the night before.

there wasn’t really a term for it, but the doctors explained to a very worried lee taeyong (who by the way, was exhausted from running from his office all the way to the hospital - being the only contact of y/n in the hospital, they called him almost immediately after discovering her state) that it was a weird case of 'using all of her sudden strength from waking up from the coma, to eventually draining herself of it very drastically.’

to which he was confused, he could not understand what that meant.

all the words from the doctor’s mouth was replaced by taeyong’s mind tuning everything out to think about her.

remembering the accident.

how one day y/n was in a car ride on vacation with her family - one she begged taeyong to allow her to go to for the longest time, to now he did allow her - she was sitting on the passenger’s seat and her father drove, and a fourteen-wheeler truck that carried heavy duty materials for a commercial site lost control of driving on the freeway.

the truck did not collide with y/n’s car.

instead the loads of five-yard long metal bars punched through the windows and windshields, taking the lives of her parents, miraculously sparing her to be barely alive at that moment.

it was very unfortunate that her father’s airbag did not work - one of the many metal bars already destroying it before it could even inflate, but somehow fortunate that y/n’s simply inflated— allowing her the chance to live, but giving too much impact on her head to the point that she ended up where she is now.

to taeyong, it seemed like he relived the same nightmare of having seen her rushed into the hospital by the paramedics. only this time around she was already in her room, different machines strapped onto her for support.

- day 27

she was on her recovery state after the incident that occurred a few days before.

taeyong had not been advised to visit her, the doctors telling him that it would be much better for both parties to take rests. they could see how beaten up he was worrying about her, and it didn’t seem alright that she was tiring herself out because she got very energetic whenever he would be around.

he only heard that she was okay, and he made sure that each day he would send her favorite flowers.

- day 31

he still was not allowed to visit, but aside from all the incidents— the doctors deemed her okay. so today they called taeyong out of the blue to discharge the patient.

he settled the papers in the common area of the hospital and they told him that they would simply guide her to his car. after processing he went back to his vehicle to wait.

the anticipation killed him.

it didn’t take any more than fifteen minutes for them to arrive, helping her into the passenger’s seat.

it was quiet as he drove off.

he noticed with his peripheral vision that she was out of the hospital clothing they provided. but aside from that he did not want to look and stare at her directly.

the air between them was of a different tune, the incident that happened seemed to have dented whatever it was they developed.

their house was not far-off the hospital. when they reached the intersection before their house, the red light turned on to signal their momentary pause.

his hand on the clutch of the car, his heavy heart building and building into being heavier and heavier by the second.

he did not want to look at her, he did not want to stare; he did not want her to see the tears flooding into his eyes.

he failed.

his love failed.

he could not do enough to help her.

his love could not do enough to help her.

as the hot spill of tears silently found their way down his cheeks, the green light went back on. he drove off.

in a matter of moments he was pulling into the driveway, as the car parked it seemed as though neither one of them wanted to get out the vehicle.

he was still crying, and she still seemed to be a quiet figure who simply sat next to him.

but then warmth traveled its way to his arm, he flinched a bit at the contact of heat, but he noticed how her hand was on top of his as they piled up the clutch.

“taeyong?” she spoke softly.

“hm?” he choked out, not wanting to speak because he knew it would give off that he cried.

“i’m sorry.”

“how are you sorry?” he wondered at her, “i’m the one who’s supposed to be sorry.”

“no, taeyong.” she simply put out.

“i failed this whole thing.” he was still crying.

“you did not, okay?” she reassured him.

“how are you so sure? we’re at this state aren’t we? i’m not enough to save you.” he said, desperately wanting to prove that he was wrong.

“you are enough.”

“do you even know who i am?” he managed to ask, pressure guiding its way to his throat. the question pressed.

“you are lee taeyong,” she said obviously, “the love of my life.” she gently took his chin to tilt his head to face her.

“i don’t ever want to forget that again.” she proclaimed aloud kissing his forehead.

-fin-

(author’s note; i know… what the fuck, right?)

#lee taeyong #nct #nct 127 #nct fic #nct fanfic #lee taeyong x reader #taeyong fluff #taeyong angst #taeyong fic #taeyong fanfic #taeyong x reader

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dcnatural · 4 years

Text

Hurricane

Word Count: 1417

Pairing: Selina Kyle x Bruce Wayne

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: During a storm, Selina Kyle and Bruce Wayne pay a visit to the Gotham Garden Motel

The storm raged fiercely outside, each lightning making the old building shake. The wind hurled fallen branches and giant wooden boards, making any pedestrians who dared to be outside be forced to duck at any moment to dodge a possibly lethal blow. Two men sat in the lounge playing poker, tossing cards and chips at the table between them. Behind the desk, Kenny, the only employee working at the moment, lazily flipped the pages of a magazine.

The front door of the Gotham Garden motel was pushed open, the cold wind blowing in the rain as a couple stepped inside. The woman wore a purple raincoat with a hood that obscured most of her face, letting only her plump red lips be seen and carried a matching shoulder bag. Behind her, the man readjusted his mirrored sunglasses and twirled the edge of his voluptuous mustache. He wore a brown suit soaked by the rain and bit impatiently at the match hanging from his lips.

The heels of her boots clickered against the floor as the woman swayed to the counter and everyone in the room stopped to look at her. Suddenly, the game wasn’t interesting anymore, and the girls in Kenny’s magazine seemed repulsive. The woman smiled and pushed back her hood, revealing the black pixie cut that framed her face and lovely cat-like green eyes.

“One room please,” she asked in a velvety tone. The clerk nodded enthusiastically and randomly fished a key from the box. The woman smiled and passed him the money, signing her name at the log with an elaborated calligraphy.

Having dropped their match, one of the men took the opportunity to assess the other newcomer, and a glint of recognition lit up in his eyes. “Malone,” called, waving at the man and getting up to greet him. “Long time no see, dude,” he raised his fist in salute, but instead of bumping it, Malone pushed him aside, following the woman upstairs.

The woman led the way to room 93 and once the door closed behind them, the man pulled out the fake mustache and the woman opened her coat, which had been covering her black leather catsuit.

“I hate wearing this thing,” the man groaned as he placed the mustache back on his pocket.

“You do look hideous in it,” she nodded, running her slender fingers through his dark hair. “I much prefer you as Bruce Wayne than as Matches Malone,” she said with a smile, grabbing his tie and tugging him closer before passionately kissing him, her soft lips still tasting like the liquor she had been drinking before running into him.

He gave a step back, pulling away from. “Selina,” he began, but was interrupted by another kiss.

“We don’t have to talk,” she whispered against his ear and a whimper left his throat as her hand slipped beneath the waistband of his pants and underwear. He hummed happily as she stroked him, whatever he had to say was already forgotten.

Selina let go of him, eliciting a groan in dismay. But before Bruce could complain, she had already stripped off her catsuit and was walking to the bed. He followed, unbuckling his belt and removing his clothes as quickly as he could.

She laid on the mattress, her back propped up on her elbows and legs sprawled open. He stopped at the edge of the bed, taking in the sight of her.

“Are you coming or what?”, she asked teasingly.

He didn’t waste another moment before climbing inside her body, and she immediately kissed him, holding him captive within her lips. The cheap sheets were rough under his skin, but Bruce didn’t care. His knees iched from the friction, he was used to satin and silks, not to whatever fabric those blankets had been made of.

In a quick move, Selina flipped them over so she was on top. She placed her hand on the wall behind them for support and began to thrust her hips into his rhymintically. Her boobs bounced with her movements and as he watched this performance (because everything that woman did was a show) she was putting on just for him, he felt himself getting closer to the edge. Her nails scratched the walls, peeling off the old paint and leaving deep dents into the plasterboard. A thunder roared outside, its noise muffling the moans coming from inside the room.

She let out a soft groan when she fell into bed by his side, her eyelids still half-closed and her mind racing with a million thoughts.

“It’s like our very own thunderstorm”, Bruce commented, pointing to the ceiling while she nestled her head on the crook of his neck.

“It’s kinda pretty. I wonder what caused it.”

“Structural damage, probably. This place is-,” he paused, looking for the right word. “Well, peculiar to say the least.”

She laughed, deep dimples appearing on her cheeks. “It’s no Hilton, but no one comes here for comfort. Besides, it’s the only place where Catwoman and- what’s the name again?”

“Matches.”

“Right. Catwoman and Matches could have wild sex without anyone asking too many questions. Or the cops showing up”, she added with a giggle.

They laid in bed for a while, the sound of the rain pouring violently against the glass windows relaxing them. She placed fluttering kisses on his neck as her fingers teased his crotch.

“I could get used to this,” he told her and she huffed in amusement. “No, I mean it. We should give it a chance, you and me.”

She pulled away, sliding out of the bed. “Bruce, we are a one night thing. It’s just sex, don’t ruin it by trying to make it something that it can’t be.”

“And why can’t it be something more?”, he asked, sitting up against the headboard.

“Because I’m not that kind of person!”, she yelled as she hastily dressed up, not caring if her panties were inside out. “I’m a wanderess. If we got together, I would just end up hurting you.”

“You can’t know that for sure.”

“Yes, I can. See that shitstorm outside?”, she gestured to the darkened windows. “That’s me. Destructive. I’m a fucking hurricane, I hurt everyone I love, and I don’t want that to happen to you.”

He jumped out of bed to reach her, but she was already running out of the room, pulling up the hood on her suit and fishing her cat-goggles from her purse. She didn’t turn back when he chased down the hall, bare chested and with his disguise forgotten.

Catwoman emerged in the entryway, followed closely by a half-naked Bruce Wayne. Once more, the poker game was forgotten and the magazine tossed aside. Kenny’s jaw dropped as the infamous cat burglar reached the door knob.

“Miss, there’s a storm outside. A hurricane, according to the radio. You shouldn’t go out”, the clerk said, jumping out of his counter and grabbing her arm midmotion, preventing her from opening the entrance.

She flicked her wrist and tossed him aside, as if he was nothing more than a fly. The door flung open and water, leaves and trash poured into the motel. Bruce Wayne muttered a curse before going after her.

“What the hell was that?” one of the poker players asked. “Bruce Wayne is fucking Catwoman? When did they even come in?”

The other man shrugged. “Must have been before we arrived. This place is crazy like that.”

The rain fell like needles, every drop hitting their body with a pang of pain. Still in the driveway, Bruce grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to turn around to face him.

“What do want?”, she shouted through gritted teeth, a thunder in distance making her voice barely audible.

“You, Selina. I want you. I like you the way you are,” he held her cheeks, pulling her against his chest. “So maybe you can devastate me, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Their lips pressed together in renewed passion and, not letting go of one another, they kicked the front door open, returning to inside the warmth of the motel.

Hours later, when the storm had passed, Matches Malone and his mysterious girl stepped out of their room and into the lobby. The poker players were passed out, cuddled together in one arm chair, and Kenny had long gone home, a skinny girl with blue hair having replaced him. The couple waved goodbye as they passed, dropping into the counter the key to room 93.

#Selina Kyle #catwoman #selina kyle x bruce wayne #batman #batman x catwoman #catwoman x batman #bruce wayne #dc #batcat

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calumcest · 4 years

Text

i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back) - chapter one

[ao3]

have i ever mentioned my britpop au? i don’t think i have :) this is quite literally the definition of self-indulgence like genuinely this is so self-indulgent that it probably counts as a deadly sin and i have literally no justifications for it

before anybody comes for me for starting another chaptered fic: i have 50k of this lined up and i’m still going at the speed of light (as sam can attest to) fear not we’re going to get there with this one i promise also for anyone still waiting for the soulmate au thats going to get finished too once this is out of my system

i have an inordinate number of people to thank for putting up with me/this fic so let us begin: @tirednotflirting deserves every single ounce of praise and love i have to offer for reading this whole thing, listening to me talk about it, bouncing ideas with me, being so patient and kind about it, coming up with such brilliant ideas and for just generally being an all-round sweetheart. @calumftduke also deserves excessive praise and thanks for reading a big old chunk of this and being so sweet about it. @killingangels genuinely breathed life into this fic and cheered it on to the place it is today thank u for diving into a britpop phase with me. @ashesonthefloor and @clumsyclifford listened to me whine about this fic even though neither of them care and i truly owe them for that. @kaleidoscopeminds lets me thirst over the gallaghers but keeps me in my place about it which is truly the vibe check i need and also listened to me talk about this fic over the past few weeks and is just generally such a joy to speak to. i’m certain i’ve forgotten someone my brain has not been switched on in weeks now but anyone who’s listened to me talk about this over the past few weeks deserves a ticket straight to heaven honestly

quick bit of vocab: our kid is a term used by siblings in manchester. not sure why i don’t understand mancunian culture myself but the gallaghers are always saying it in interviews and my mancunian friend concurred that it is correct so idk what goes on up there

warnings: heavy drug use (its oasis and blur in the ‘90s theres a lot of coke/weed/alcohol) and lots of swearing (including the c word because they’re british)

He’s here, in England, not in Sydney, and he’s twenty, not seventeen. That was then, and this is now.

But for a moment - just for a few seconds - he could have sworn that then and now were the same thing. Just for one moment, he could have sworn he’d seen Michael Clifford.

or: calum's in oasis and michael's in blur and it's the height of the 1990s britpop war

Liam had once asked Calum if he believed in fate.

“D’you think it’s all real?” he’d said one day, out of the fucking blue. Calum, though, used to Liam beginning conversations in the middle after two long years of knowing him, had just looked at him.

“Do I think what’s all real?” he’d asked. Liam had indicated up at the sky with his eyes and cigarette.

“Fate, and all that,” he’d said, lifting the cigarette back to his lips. Calum had watched as his cheeks hollowed around it, turning potential answers over and over in his mind.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he’d said eventually, and Liam had raised his eyebrows and nodded as he’d exhaled a cloud of grey smoke that had blended in with the sky and the council houses.

Calum thinks he probably should have known then. Maybe Liam had been trying to make a point, in that strange way he sometimes does - what are the odds you’d end up here, with us? Calum hadn’t given it a second thought at the time, just rolled his eyes and nudged Liam’s foot with his own and said Noel’s going to do his fucking nut if we’re not there in ten, and that had been that. The conversation never even crossed his mind again until it was too late, until fate had already had her way with Calum.

In Calum’s defence, though, fate never showed her hand. She never threw him any hints, no flashing neon signs that said Calum, your destiny is this way. Fate came piecemeal, came in short snippets of conversations or flashes of familiar faces or, on occasion, Liam and Noel swearing loudly at each other as they stomp up the stairs in Calum’s house.

“I’m arsed,” Liam’s saying loudly, when he barges into Calum’s room. Noel’s hot on his heels, midway through a spiel he’s clearly prepared which Liam’s having none of, and he turns to Calum when they get through the door, an annoyed expression on his face.

“Tell him he’s a prick,” he says.

“Why?” Calum says, setting his magazine aside, because he needs to know what he’s supposed to be endorsing before he picks a side in an argument between the Gallagher brothers.

“Our kid wants us to miss the match tonight and go to some fucking gig,” Liam grumbles, throwing himself down on Calum’s bed and picking up his magazine.

“It’s not ‘some fucking gig’, Liam,” Noel says irritably. “It’s the fucking Boardwalk. We’ve got to hear what else is out there right now.”

“I told you, I’m fucking arsed what else is out there right now,” Liam says, flicking about five pages on from the article Calum had been in the middle of reading. “I don’t write the fucking songs, do I? Go on your fucking own. You’re a big boy, aren’t you?” Noel rolls his eyes and opens his mouth, and Calum’s Gallagher Explosion Incoming senses start tingling, followed swiftly by his Peacekeeping Skill Set activating.

“Look,” he says hurriedly, before Noel can say something that’ll lead to a couple of black eyes, mostly because neither of the brothers have ever cared much about collateral damage and Calum values his bruiseless skin. “What if we start the match, and if City look like they’re going to lose, we go to the gig?” Noel closes his mouth, and then opens it again, and then closes it again.

“Fucking whatever,” Liam grumbles, which is the closest they’re going to get to acquiescence from him. Calum stares at Noel beseechingly, because this is the best idea he’s got and pretty much the only one he thinks Liam’ll agree to, and Noel rolls his eyes, sighs dramatically, but then nods reluctantly.

“City won’t fucking lose,” he mutters, as he sits down in the chair at Calum’s desk. “Not to a bunch of Scousers.”

“Lost to Liverpool not four weeks ago,” Calum reminds him, and Noel scowls.

“That second goal was fucking offside,” he says.

“Ref was a fucking wanker,” Liam chimes in, from where he’s lying on Calum’s bed, still thumbing through the magazine. “‘Ere, what’s this, then?” he adds, with a grin, and turns the magazine around, tapping on the page. It’s a picture of a (very pretty) boy spread across a motorbike, and Calum rolls his eyes, snatching the magazine out of Liam’s hands.

“Fuck off,” he says, but Liam’s just laughing, head tipped back on the bed, all full lips and bright blue eyes and long, dark lashes. If Calum hadn’t been doing lines with Liam for half of last night, he could almost believe the angelic innocence the boy gives off.

“Looks like our kid,” Noel says, sitting down on the chair at Calum’s desk. Liam raises his head far enough to give Noel a two-fingered salute, but he’s still grinning, and Noel’s grinning too when he flips Liam off in return.

Fucking hell, Calum thinks. It’ll take more than his three O Levels to fucking understand those two.

-------

City end up conceding three goals in the first twenty-five minutes, and Liam’s the one who stands up, voice already hoarse from screaming at the TV, and demands they go out. Noel, never one to resist pressing buttons that only he can find on Liam, makes a snide comment about it, and Calum, to keep the peace, makes a comment about United, giving both brothers something to spend the entire bus journey to the Boardwalk ranting about.

Noel gets them in for free, because he knows someone who knows someone who’d been a roadie with a band who had been on tour with the Inspiral Carpets for like, half a second, or something. Calum doesn’t really care how they get in for free, whether Noel gets them in by knowing someone who knows someone or by hiring a hitman on the bouncer, as long as they do get in for free, because he’d rather save his money for weed.

The band that’s playing are immediately declared to be boring little fuckers by Liam, who beelines for the bar and only has to flutter his lashes twice before the pretty girl behind the bar sidles up to him with a coy look on her face. To his credit, though, he doesn’t linger after getting the drinks, weaving through the crowd to Noel and Calum with a mixture of shouted insults and threats at anyone in his path, three overfull pints balanced precariously in his hands.

“You’re paying me back for these,” is how he greets them again, taking a sip from Noel’s before handing it to him. Noel just rolls his eyes, turning back to the stage and raising the pint to his lips.

“Am I fuck,” Calum says, taking the other beer out of Liam’s outstretched hand. Liam scowls, but lets him take it, taking a sip from his own glass.

“I’ll just smoke your weed, then,” he says, like he doesn’t do that anyway. Calum just shakes his head and turns back to the stage, where a new band are setting up, fiddling with their amps and mic stands.

“D’you even know who these pricks are?” Liam asks Noel.

“Don’t even know if they’re worth knowing yet,” Noel says. Liam shrugs, like that’s a fair point, and then a squeal of feedback makes all three of them (and the rest of the crowd) jump, causing loud swearing from at least eight people in the vicinity as their drinks slosh over them.

“Fucking hell,” Noel mutters, shaking his hands off.

“Evening,” the lead singer says, voice deep and rich. “We’re Blur, and this is Popscene.” They immediately launch into something that’s all guitars and overdrive and beat, and Noel’s soon tapping his foot along in interest, spilled beer forgotten, as the singer starts jumping around enthusiastically. They’re not standing anywhere near the stage, and the distance and bright lights combined with the movement are making the singer look more translucent than opaque, which is making Calum’s head hurt. He chooses to focus on the bassist instead, because Noel’s kind of got a point that they should be listening to what else is around, although he’s probably just looking for more people to nick ideas off.

By the third song, though, Calum realises he’s really stood far too far away to get any benefit from watching the bassist - he can’t even tell whether he’s using a plectrum or not, and his eyes are already starting to hurt from squinting - and lets his gaze wander across the stage. There’s a guitarist wearing glasses, which Calum’s pretty sure Liam’s going to have a comment about that’ll involve the words ‘fucking’ ‘not’ and ‘rock ‘n’ roll’, with maybe ‘cunt’ chucked in for good measure. The drummer’s so far back that all Calum can make out is a shadowy figure behind the kit, and when the singer stands still long enough for Calum to see more than just a hazy figure all he can vaguely make out is what looks like very pretty features and blonde hair.

It’s the other guitarist, though, that makes Calum stop, his heart stilling in his chest for the briefest of moments.

He looks so familiar, messy blonde hair sticking up at all sorts of angles that Calum’s only ever seen on one other person, that it makes Calum’s stomach lurch. He’s got his face down, focusing on whatever they’re playing, so Calum can’t really see - not that he’d be able to tell from this distance, anyway - but there’s something that’s so achingly known to Calum that it makes him swallow, mouth suddenly dry. Even the guitarist’s posture is familiar, a little tense, a lot focused, with an edge of something cool and relaxed.

Calum’s so mesmerised by the guitarist, heart hammering in his chest, that he barely even realises three more songs have come to an end until the band all stop, gather together at the front of the stage and do an awkward half-bow-half-wave to the crowd. There’s a smattering of applause as they straighten up, and the lights are too bright for Calum to see properly, but he sees a flash of a smile that looks so much like one he hasn’t seen in almost four years that it makes something electric shoot through him before he’s even processed it, and then they’re turning around and heading off the stage.

“Fucking shite,” Liam says, over the sound of the crowd’s growing murmurs. “Would’ve rather watched City fucking lose.” They all know he’s lying. Liam’d probably rather cut off his limbs one at a time than sit at home to watch City get thrashed.

It reminds Calum where he is, though, as he takes a sip of his beer with slightly shaky hands. He’s in fucking Manchester, in a dingy bar with two of the biggest pricks he’s ever met in his life, watching shitty bands play mediocre songs to avoid having to watch his football team get massacred by Everton. It grounds him, shakes him out of it, makes him remember that he’s here, in England, not in Sydney, and he’s twenty, not seventeen. That was then, and this is now.

But for a moment - just for a few seconds - he could have sworn that then and now were the same thing. Just for one moment, he could have sworn he’d seen Michael Clifford.

-------

They stay to watch three more bands, and then Liam’s in a fucking mood and even Noel’s had enough of the music, so they head back to Noel’s flat to drink and get high. Liam and Noel bicker the whole way there, first about whether or not Liam should be paying for all the weed Noel buys that he smokes, then about whether or not Liam had actually slept over last night or whether he’d been at home, then about whether or not the shirt their mam had bought Noel for Christmas had been green or blue. Calum offers his input on all of them, siding with Noel twice and Liam once, but gets snapped at to shut the fuck up by the both of them each time, making him roll his eyes as he kicks stones along the pavement.

(“Noel’s a fucking cunt,” Liam had said to him once, fuming, after a particularly nasty argument that had ended in every bag of frozen peas being dug out of the freezer.

“Yeah,” Calum had said. “So are you, though, mate.”

“Don’t call my brother a cunt,” Liam had said, and Calum had rolled his eyes, picking up the now-defrosted bag of peas on the table and taking them back into the kitchen, where Noel was nursing his own black eye.

“What the fuck is his problem?” Noel had said furiously.

“You’re both twats,” Calum had said with a shrug, tossing the peas back in the freezer.

“Hey,” Noel had said sharply. “That’s my fucking brother.”

Calum’ll never pretend to understand them.)

They spend the night lying on Noel’s living room floor, pleasantly drunk and so stoned that Liam and Noel forget to argue for about three hours. Calum drifts in and out of sleep, listening to Liam and Noel mumbling to each other and remembering to speak once every twenty minutes or so, until Noel nudges him at what must be about five in the morning.

“What’d you reckon?” he says, looking thoughtful.

“About what?”

“That band, tonight.” They saw five bands, so Calum would be well within his rights to ask which one, but somehow, he knows.

“Good,” he says. “Interesting. Sounded new, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Noel says, rolling on his side to face Calum. He hums, like he’s thinking Calum’s words over. “Liam reckons they’re not rock ‘n’ roll enough.” Calum rolls his eyes.

“Liam reckons the fucking Stones aren’t rock ‘n’ roll enough,” he says, and Noel snorts, and it sounds so fucking ridiculous that Calum giggles, which makes Noel burst out laughing, and soon they’re cackling on the floor, tears streaming down their faces as they gasp for breath and clutch at their stitches. Liam, who’s been sleeping soundly, looking peaceful and tranquil and not at all like the guy who’d threatened to knock Calum’s teeth out for suggesting City should have played a different formation not six hours ago, stirs and opens his eyes, blinking blearily.

“Shut the fuck up,” he mumbles, and then rolls over, and goes back to sleep. Noel glances at Calum, flushed and panting from laughing, eyes bright and gleaming, and that one look is enough to make the both of them collapse in laughter again, cheeks and sides and throats hurting.

The next morning, when Liam wakes Calum up by nudging him in the ribs and saying get up, lazy bugger, we’re late for work, that’s what Calum remembers from the night before. He remembers laughter, Noel’s living room going blurry around the edges, and the pleasant buzz of alcohol, weed and two of his best mates thrumming through his veins. He doesn’t remember the boy on guitar in the Boardwalk.

-------

The next time fate has her way with Calum is a good year and a half later.

They’re recording their first album, which Noel seems to think means he’s recording his first album and everyone else is just there to complement his fucking genius. He’s not managed to stop being a cunt for about six months now, and, not one to let Noel beat him in anything, Liam’s getting equally insufferable. The studio is a fucking battleground, and Bonehead always takes Liam’s side and Tony’s just fucking useless, and Calum thinks to himself at least twice a day: is this really worth it? Maybe I should’ve just stuck with construction.

They’re getting there, though, and when it’s good, it’s fucking good. They can all sense that there’s something there, something new and bold and, as Noel in all his endless humility declares it one night, groundbreaking. They’ve recorded Supersonic, a song that Noel somehow wrote in about half an hour, recorded a video for it on the roof of some warehouse in London, and there’s something about it that none of them can quite put their finger on, something that feels almost overwhelming, feels like it’s bigger than them. They’ve even been on the radio a few times, been playing bigger and bigger venues, got a contract and management and all that nonsense, and for all the flaws that combine to make up the Gallagher brothers, Noel’s got a fucking knack for songwriting and Liam’s voice is unlike anything Calum’s heard before.

The problem is that lately, it’s been bad more than it’s been good. They’d done sessions at Monnow Valley which had sounded like absolute shit, too clean and thin, and with every day that passed and every track that couldn’t be used Noel got more and more frantic, snapping at everyone who dared speak to him. Liam, never one to resist a fight with his brother, had risen to the challenge, and the fallout had been messier and dirtier and involved more collateral damage than even Calum had expected. It had culminated in a trip to Amsterdam which had ended before it even began after a fight broke out on the ferry. Calum remembers seeing Liam zooming past, a happy grin on his face, heading right for the middle of the action, and then twenty minutes later zooming past again, bruised and bloody, still grinning, being chased by a policeman. It had ended in Liam being deported, handcuffs and all, and a screaming match between the brothers in which both of them quit and were fired by the other at least twenty-three times.

Since that, though, things have got a little better. They’ve started recording in Sawmills in Cornwall with Noel as a co-producer, and Noel and Liam have started talking again, and everyone had breathed out a collective sigh of relief when Noel had announced he was going to head to the shops and Liam had wordlessly got up to join him. Slowly but surely, things have started looking up.

It’s in the middle of one of those sessions that everything changes.

“Eeyar, Calum,” Noel calls, from the corridor outside. “Your mam’s on the phone.” Calum sighs - fucking hell, what does his mum not understand about we’re recording an album and I’m twenty-two years old, I’ll call you when I fucking call you - but puts his bass aside and gets up grudgingly, trotting outside to see Noel holding out the receiver for him.

“I want you back in in ten,” he says warningly, like he’s Calum’s dad and they’re eating dinner soon, and Calum rolls his eyes and flips him off, which is as good of a yes as Noel’s going to get. Noel sticks his tongue out at him and heads back into the studio, probably to yell at Bonehead from the soundboard for being too loud, or maybe too quiet, or maybe too middling. He’ll find something.

“What?” Calum says, a little irritably, lifting the receiver to his ear.

“Hello to you too, Calum,” his mum says smartly. “I haven’t heard from you in over a week.” Calum rests his arm against the wall, and his forehead against his arm, and stares at his shoes.

“I’m recording an album, mum,” he says, hoping it doesn’t sound too annoyed. “We’re busy.” She makes a small hmm, a you should have stayed in a real job kind of hmm, but doesn’t push it.

“Are you eating well?” she asks, a stern undertone to her voice, like she knows Calum’s diet right now is entirely liquid.

“Yes,” Calum lies. He gets another disapproving hmm for his trouble which sounds like it might be the prelude to a speech about how he should stop wasting his time and come home and do a proper job and eat some vegetables, so he decides to change tack. “How’s home?”

“Oh, home’s good,” his mum says. “Janet next door’s got a new man, invited us to the wedding next month - can you imagine? A wedding in March? I said to her, I said ‘you’ll be wanting to move it to May’, and she said ‘oh, we want an indoor wedding anyway’.” Calum hums noncommittally, because he has absolutely no idea what that’s supposed to mean. What the fuck’s wrong with an indoor wedding in March? “Anyway, your dad and I have decided to go. Janet extended the invitation to you, too, but I said I didn’t know if you’d be back from your recording session.”

“I don’t know either,” Calum says. “Noel’s being a right cunt about the whole thing.”

“Calum,” his mum says reprovingly, like she wasn’t the one he picked the word up from in the first place. “Well, regardless, you’ll be home by April, won’t you? I told your dad you’d help fix the wall in the garden.” Calum groans, because that’s pretty much the last thing on the list of things he wants to do, including having Noel claw his eyeballs out for fucking up the bass on Supersonic again, and his mum tuts. “You’ve got experience in construction, Calum. You should put those skills to good use.”

“I’ve never fixed a fucking wall, mum,” he says.

“Well, the wall needs fixing,” she says, like that’s that. The wall needs fixing, so Calum’s got to suddenly develop the skills to do it.

(For her, though, Calum’ll do it.)

“What’s wrong with it?” he says, already mentally ringing up the cost of the bricks and mortar he’s going to need. “Looked fine last time I was home.”

“I think the ivy must have loosened the cement,” his mum says. “I was watching TV the other night - I saw Michael on Top of the Pops, actually - and then-”

“Hang on,” Calum interrupts, because he only knows two Michaels, and one of them’s here in Cornwall with him. “Michael who?”

“Michael Clifford,” his mum says, like it’s obvious. “Anyway, then I heard a huge crash outside, and I told your dad to go and take a look, and he said the wall had caved in. Just a bit, you know, near the shed, but-” she’s still talking, something about foxes and de-weeding the garden, but Calum’s not listening.

Michael Clifford, she’d said, like it was simple and obvious. Like it stood to reason that she saw him on Top of the fucking Pops. Like it made sense that Calum’s childhood best friend, his fucking everything from the age of seven to seventeen, was on a British music show.

“Michael Clifford?” he repeats, in the middle of whatever his mum’s saying.

“Yes,” she says, sounding a little annoyed that Calum’s not listening to her impassioned speech about ivy. “Anyway, your dad said he’d need some help with it, and that it can wait until you’re back. But I want it done as soon as you are, because I don’t like the idea of Janet being able to see into our garden. Oh, that’s the chicken done. Call me in a few days, let me know how things are. Give the others my best. Love you.” She doesn’t even wait for a response, just hangs up, leaving Calum staring at the floor with a dial tone ringing in his ear and a name bouncing around in his mind.

It can’t be him. She must have been mistaken. What the fuck would Michael Clifford be doing on Top of the Pops? What the fuck would Michael Clifford even be doing in Britain? The last Calum had heard from him, about a year and a half after he’d left Sydney, Michael had been sure about becoming a policeman. He’d seemed so dead set on it, had signed himself up for the academy and everything. Calum might not have heard from him in almost half a decade, but he’s pretty sure nobody would stray so far from ‘policeman in Sydney’ to end up at ‘musician in Britain’. No, he thinks, shaking his head and pushing himself off the wall with his arm, his mum must have been wrong. She hasn’t seen Michael since they’d moved from Sydney five years ago either, so it’s understandable that she’d mixed him up with someone else.

But, a little voice says, as he heads back into the studio and is greeted with the sight of Liam sprawled across the sofa, laughing at something Noel’s just said, both of them looking far too high-spirited for Gallaghers, she watched Michael grow up. She knew his face better than you ever did.

“‘Ere,” Liam says, interrupting the voice in Calum’s mind as it’s about to start reeling off a list of times Calum’s mum had spotted Michael in a crowd or down the road or in a photo before Calum had. “Noel says he’ll sprint around the house naked if Tony doesn’t fuck up his drums on this take. What d’you reckon?”

“I reckon it’s a good thing Tony can’t fucking play drums then, isn’t it?” Calum says, as Liam drops his feet to the floor to make room for Calum on the sofa. Liam snorts, and Noel scowls, but his eyes are still lit up with amusement.

“Well, I reckon you’re both cunts,” Noel tells them, and Calum grins, hoping they don’t see the way it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and reaches over for Liam’s beer to try and calm his churning stomach.

-------

Calum can’t sleep that night.

He’s usually so drunk that Liam’s gentle snoring doesn’t even register to him as he throws himself down on his bed, often fully-dressed, and falls right asleep, only waking up to fumble around for paracetamol in the middle of the night when his throbbing headache overpowers his exhaustion. He’s not used to lying there, stomach still unsettled, mind racing, staring blankly up at the ceiling, growing more and more frustrated by the noise of Liam sleeping.

Liam rolls over in his sleep, mutters something under his breath, and then his breathing evens out again, and Calum times the minutes passing by the way he breathes in, out, in, out. The moonlight’s getting brighter - or maybe it’s the sun rising, he’s not sure - and eventually, when Liam rolls over again and smacks his lips in his sleep, Calum’s had enough. He gets up, pads out of the room and down the stairs, heading in the direction of the kitchen for a drink.

He’s surprised, though, when he pushes the door open, to find Noel sat at the breakfast bar, a sheet of paper in front of him, still wearing the same clothes from the day before. He turns around at the noise of the door opening and mumbles something that sounds vaguely like a greeting to Calum, who grunts back at him as he grabs a glass out of the cupboard and fills it with water.

“Can’t sleep?” Noel asks, and Calum raises his eyebrows over the glass of water he’s gulping down.

“No,” he says, setting the glass down on the counter. “You?” Noel shakes his head.

“‘S Bonehead’s fucking snoring,” he says, by way of an explanation, but Calum’s known Noel for five years now, and knows him better than that.

“And that’s why you’re still dressed?” Calum says shrewdly.

“Fuck off,” Noel mutters, raising a can of beer to his lips so he won’t have to say anything else. Calum sighs and shakes his head, but chooses not to push him on it, hopping up on the counter and swinging his legs.

“You writing?” he asks, and Noel looks down at the sheet of paper under his hand, and shrugs.

“Trying,” he says. Calum hums, and the two of them lapse into a comfortable silence for a while.

It helps, Calum finds, to be with Noel. He’s never been a man of many words - neither him nor Liam have ever been particularly gifted in that area - but Calum knows he’s always safe with Noel, thrives in the quiet comfort of Noel’s presence. Noel never asks, never pushes, but he’s always there if Calum ever needs anything, and even though they never speak about it, they both know the same is true vice versa.

(Calum can count on one hand the number of times he’s needed Noel, and can count on one finger the number of times Noel’s needed him.)

That’s not to say Noel doesn’t have his moments, though. He’s obstinate, brash, loud, arrogant, thinks his opinion is worth at least twelve times as much as anyone else’s, and takes himself far too seriously half the time. Calum’s had some of his most memorable arguments with Noel, edged out only slightly by how spectacular his arguments with Liam have been. Both of those, however, are eclipsed by how fucking nuclear the arguments between Noel and Liam are. The two of them bring out both the worst and the best in each other, grating at each other’s virtues and soothing each other’s flaws. They don’t know how to be happy unless they’re dancing along the line between love and hate, and Calum’s not sure it’d work any other way. He’s seen them in their brief, private moments of peace - Liam’s head on Noel’s chest, Noel’s arm wrapped around him, Liam murmuring something about a song or a memory that makes Noel snort, which in turn makes Liam’s lips curve up in a proud smile - but neither of their ships could sail anywhere without a restless sea to guide them. They need the fighting, need the bickering, even need the punches, to keep the wheels turning. A conversation’s not really begun if Noel and Liam haven’t called each other cunts at least twice, Calum thinks, and if Calum’s not been called upon by both of them to call the other a cunt within ten seconds of the inevitable argument breaking out.

It had been an argument like that a year or so ago that had led to them traipsing to the Boardwalk to watch that band play. Calum remembers the energy they had, raw and a little off-kilter but something there all the same, remembers the lyrical shouting of the singer and the way he’d bounced all over the stage, but not as much as he remembers the guitarist.

He’d looked so familiar, blonde hair and posture combining to make Calum’s heart ache like no music had ever quite managed to. It couldn’t have been him, though, he’d told himself. There was absolutely no way that Michael Clifford could have been playing in the fucking Boardwalk. Michael was in Sydney, back home, probably sunning himself on Bondi Beach and laughing at something Ashton was saying as Luke grinned at Ashton with wide blue eyes. Michael wasn’t in Manchester.

Except, a little voice in his head says, maybe he was. Maybe Calum’s mum hadn’t mistaken some guy in a band on Top of the Pops for Michael. Maybe it was Michael.

“D’you know that band we saw, a few years ago?” Calum says, out of the blue, before the thought to say the words has even crossed his mind. Noel looks up at him, thick brows furrowed.

“Seen a lot of fucking bands,” he says, a little slowly, like he’s trying to figure out what Calum’s actually asking. Calum half-considers dropping the subject entirely, but Noel’s been in the business far longer than he has, and if anyone’s going to know, it’s him.

“The one in the bar. After the City match.” Noel purses his lips, brows creasing further, before nodding thoughtfully.

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah. They’re famous now, they are.”

“Oh,” Calum says, and swallows. That’s not what he expected - or, he finds, wanted - to hear.

“Yeah. Heard their first record. Or maybe it was their second, I don’t know. It wasn’t all that.”

“What’re they called, again?” Calum asks, hoping the question sounds innocent, but Noel’s eyes narrow a fraction.

“Blur,” he says.

“Blur,” Calum repeats, testing the word out, letting it sit on his tongue.

“Why?”

“No reason,” Calum says. Noel looks at him for a moment, like he’s weighing up whether or not to say something, but then seems to let it go, shaking his head.

“You’re a fucking odd one, you are,” he says, which is the nicest thing he’s said to Calum in months.

“Cheers,” Calum says, with a grin. “Good-looking, too.”

“Don’t push it,” Noel warns, and Calum laughs, swinging his legs.

“What’re you writing, then?” he asks. Noel looks back down at the sheet of paper.

“Don’t know, really,” he says. “Just can’t seem to get it right.”

“Want me to take a look?” Calum offers.

“You?” Noel says sceptically. “You barely even play a fucking instrument.”

“Bass is a fucking instrument, you prick,” Calum says, only half-incensed.

“You’re up there with the fucking tambourine player,” Noel says, but there’s a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Fuck off,” Calum says, and Noel leans back in the chair, grinning. “You’re the one who bought him that fucking tambourine, anyway.”

“Little twat might as well do something worthwhile,” Noel says, like Liam’s voice isn’t one of the two indispensable elements they’ve got.

“At least I can play guitar,” Calum counters. Noel raises an eyebrow.

“Playing?” he says. “Well. If that’s what you want to call it.” Calum scowls and flips him off, and Noel just laughs and gives him a two-fingered salute in return.

“Go on, then,” he says, shoving the piece of paper to the edge of the breakfast bar. “Let’s see how much damage can be done to my genius.” Calum rolls his eyes but reaches over to pull the piece of paper towards him. There’s barely anything on there, just two lines: I can’t tell you the way I feel/Because the way I feel is oh so new to me. Fucking hell.

“I’m off to bed,” Noel says, like he can sense the questions bubbling under the surface of Calum’s frown, and pushes himself back from the breakfast bar. Calum looks up, catches the brief look of don’t you dare fucking ask me what that’s about that flits across Noel’s face, just the most fractional chink in his armour, and nods, hopping off the counter and tucking the sheet of paper into his pocket. He should probably try and get some sleep too, if only because he’s going to have to be in the best frame of mind possible to deal with how insufferable Noel’s going to be tomorrow on three hours’ sleep.

“I’m going to smother your brother if he’s not stopped snoring,” he tells Noel, following him out of the room. Noel snorts as he starts up the stairs, that strange mixture of derisive and fond that the Gallaghers manage so well.

“You’ve got more of a fucking chance of him waking up a bird than you do getting him to stop snoring,” he says. Calum sighs, all long-suffering, like this is news to him, even though he’s been sleeping in rooms with Liam since they were seventeen and sixteen respectively.

“Good thing the tambourine player’s expendable, then,” he says, and Noel laughs, soft and quiet in the stillness of the night.

“You’d be doing the world a fucking favour,” he says, but there’s a strong edge of pride and fondness that Noel only ever gets when talking about Liam, and Liam only ever gets when talking about Noel, and they never get when talking to each other. Calum thinks they’d probably both rather switch to being United fans than ever admit any semblance of love exists between the two of them, but it hums lowly beneath the surface, visible for anyone who bothers to look beyond the black eyes and hurled insults and weeks of refusing to even look at each other. No one can deny that the two of them fucking hate each other half the time, but without the push and pull of their relationship, without the back and forth and the give and take, the band couldn’t work. If the two of them ever lost that, if one of them ever pulled or pushed too hard, that’d be it. It should probably concern Calum more than it does that his entire career is poised on the knife’s edge that is Liam and Noel’s endless tug-of-war, but he's yet to lose the strangely settled feeling in his stomach every time Noel quits or fires Liam that tells him they'll be alright. You'll be alright. There are still better things to come.

“You’re just saying that because you want to sing,” Calum retorts.

“Nah,” Noel says with a grin, hand hovering over the door handle of his and Bonehead’s room. “I’m saying it because I want more royalties.” Calum rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning too.

“I’ll see what I can do for you,” he promises.

-------

As Calum had predicted, Noel’s a fucking nightmare the next day.

He snaps at everyone who dares come within a ten metre radius of him, and, when everyone stops going into the same room Noel’s in, he specifically goes out of his way to find Liam to start an argument that ends in Liam complaining that one of his teeth is loose.

(“It’s not fucking loose,” Bonehead says, and then decides to leave the room, presumably because he doesn’t want to deal with Liam’s moaning and whining. Calum can’t really blame him, and starts to shift surreptitiously towards the door himself.

“Since when are you a fucking dentist, you cunt?” Liam shouts after him, and Bonehead flips him off as he walks away. “You’re coming with me to the dentist, you are.” He’s rounded on Calum now, blocking the path to the door, and Calum sighs.

“If we get more beer on the way back,” he bargains, and Liam nods.)

That’s how Calum’s ended up in some posh dental surgery, spread out across a leather sofa and looking very incongruous in his oversized shirt and baggy jeans amongst the glass and the fancy-looking plants, waiting for Liam to come out of his appointment. It’s taking far longer than he’d expected - he’d thought it’d be a quick your tooth’s not fucking loose, you knob, you’ve definitely had worse, like everyone else had told him, but Liam’s been in there for a good fifteen minutes now, and Calum’s getting bored.

The receptionist keeps making eyes at him, and Calum can’t tell whether they’re I want to fuck you eyes or whether they’re you look like you’re going to try and rob this dental surgery eyes, so eventually he picks up the nearest magazine off the coffee table and flicks it open to a random page just for something to look at that isn’t her.

There’s a very pretty guy staring back at him when he looks down, blonde and blue-eyed and grinning inanely at the camera, and the caption reads BLUR: the cocky rebels you’re allowed to love.

Blur. That’s what Noel had called the band from that bar in Manchester last night. They’re famous now, they are, he’d said.

Calum barely even notices the way his heart speeds up as his eyes fly across the page, scanning the article for any mention of Michael before he really realises what he’s looking for. The author and the singer - Damon, apparently - keep referring to a Mike, an Australian Mike, which puts Calum right on edge, but Michael had never gone by Mike. He fucking hated it, corrected anyone who called him anything other than Michael, refused to respond to any teachers who tried to call him Mike, threw glowers at any classmates who did the same. He’d barely even let Calum call him Mikey in his most vulnerable moments, rubbing small circles on his back soothingly as he coaxed him to throw up all the cheap booze they’d nicked from the corner shop.

Calum’s fingers are slick with sweat as he’s turning the page and his eyes are starting to water from how little he’s blinking, and he’s not sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing, whether he wants Mike to be Michael or not. When he reaches the bottom of the second page, however, Calum’s heart stops.

There’s a picture of the whole band. Damon’s standing second from the left, right arm holding his left bicep, head tilted upwards, looking lazy and effortlessly beautiful, like he fucking knows he’s worth looking at. It reminds Calum of Liam a little bit, the way he plays into the camera, the way he knows that with a small tilt of his chin and a slight lowering of his lashes he’ll have half the fucking nation on their knees for him. Maybe that’s just the way singers need to be, Calum thinks, eyes flitting to the ginger guy to Damon’s left, who looks a little uncomfortable, and then to the guy directly on Damon’s right; tall, broody-looking, dark hair swept across his face. To his right is a shorter dark-haired man, looking tense and on edge, and to his right is-

Michael Clifford.

There’s no mistaking him. He’s got the same blonde hair still sticking up at all sorts of angles, the same sleepy, sea green eyes, the same pretty lips slightly parted in a pout. He’s holding himself confidently, miles away from the slightly scrawny teenager Calum had left behind, staring into the lens of the camera like it’s a challenge. Come on, Calum. Tell yourself I ever stopped mattering to you, go on.

Calum doesn’t need to read the caption to know it’s Michael, knows it from the way he’s clutching his right wrist with his left hand, but does it anyway, one final, desperate grasp at a straw - from left to right: David Rowntree, Damon Albarn, Alex James, Graham Coxon, Michael Clifford.

Michael Clifford.

The words seem to sort of swim in front of Calum’s eyes, like they’re not really there, like his mind’s superimposed them on the article somehow, but the picture’s still there, clear as day. Michael, a hint of stubble on his jaw, face more angled and figure fuller and shoulders broader and God, he looks so fucking good that Calum’s stomach flips and drops and flips again.

“-fucking hell, Earth to fucking Cal,” Liam says, sounding sort of muffled, and Calum nearly drops the magazine in shock, yanked back into reality so suddenly and jarringly by the sound of his voice.

“What?” he says, looking up to see Liam with an irritated expression on his face, cradling one cheek in his hand.

“Let’s fucking go,” Liam says, already halfway to the door. Calum stares after him for a moment, mind trying to process Liam wants to leave over the tangled jumble of Michael Michael Michael currently winding its way through every cell in his brain, before he jumps up, magazine still in his hand.

“Sir,” the receptionist calls immediately, like she’s had her eye on him the whole time. “You can’t take the magazine with you.” Calum looks down at the magazine, and Liam turns around from the door, a slight tension in his posture that Calum recognises as the one he gets when he’s spoiling for a fucking fight. Christ, he’s not about to deck the fucking receptionist, is he?

“Or what?” Liam says, a little menacingly. “You gonna fucking stop him?”

“I just-”

“What the fuck do you want with the fucking magazine, eh? Fucking paid enough for the appointment, buy yourself another."

“C’mon,” Calum mutters, rolling the magazine up and hurrying over to Liam, putting a hand on the small of his back. “Let’s go.” Liam hesitates for a moment, like he’s torn between going to get beer or shouting at a receptionist, but eventually the alcohol seems to win in his mind, because he settles for throwing her one final glare and letting Calum guide him out of the door.

“What’d they say?” Calum asks as they walk out, his hand still on Liam’s back, because he knows Liam better than to trust he won’t just change his mind on a whim and go storming back in to give the receptionist a piece of his mind for not wanting Calum to take a fucking magazine.

“Don’t fucking know,” Liam mutters, pushing open the door to outside. Calum shivers a little when the cool late-February air hits him, and decides that Liam’s probably safe now, letting go of him to wrap his arms around himself as they head back to the car that’s been waiting for them. “Sounded like he said something about my flaps.” Calum snorts.

“Bit forward of him,” he says, and Liam grins.

“Why’d you take that fucking magazine, then, eh?” he says, rounding the car without looking into the road and flipping off the car that has to screech to a halt to avoid running him over.

“What?” Calum says, a touch shiftily. “Oh. Saw a good article in it. Wanted to finish reading it.” Liam throws him a look over the top of the car, a look that’s unnervingly shrewd, but then shakes his head and ducks into the car. Calum does the same, taking a moment to tuck the magazine into his pocket and feeling it weigh down one side of him, unbalancing him just slightly. It’s kind of apt, he thinks as he gets into the car. Michael had always made him feel a little unbalanced, too.

“Let’s get some fucking beer,” Liam announces, and Calum grins, trying not to think about the way the magazine feels pressed between him and the seat.

“Let��s get some fucking beer,” he agrees.

-------

Calum doesn’t look at the magazine again until a good week later.

He’s drunk, and maybe still a little high, which is the driving force behind the whole evening. They all are, because Liam had scored some great coke off some guy called Neville, which Calum had declared to be the funniest dealer name in all of history, leading Bonehead to admit that his weed dealer used to be called Barnaby. Noel had sided with Calum, claiming Neville was far worse than Barnaby, and, predictably, Liam had jumped straight in on Bonehead’s side, and after about two minutes of shouting Tony had mumbled something about not being drunk enough for this and slipped out of the room.

“Fucking useless,” Liam says derisively, as Tony walks out. “I should fire him.”

“I fired you two days ago,” Noel says, pointing at Liam with the card he’s using to cut up the coke. “You can’t be firing anyone.”

“It’s my fucking band,” Liam says, incensed, like it’s not actually Bonehead’s band that Liam had wheedled his way into.

“Who writes the fucking songs?” Noel counters. “You just play the fucking tambourine and look mardy.”

“Fucking greatest frontman in the world, I am,” Liam says indignantly.

“You’re too fucking high to find the front of the stage half the time,” Noel says contemptuously.

“I know where the front of the fucking stage is,” Liam says, pointing at Noel with one hand and Calum with the other. “‘S between knobheads numbers one and two.” Noel rolls his eyes, too busy cutting lines to flip him off, so Calum does it on both of their behalfs, and Liam grins, swigging from his beer.

“Save us a fucking line,” Bonehead says to Noel, who’s just bent down to hoover up at least four of the thin white lines on the table.

“Get your fucking own,” Noel grumbles, like he’s the one who’d scored it, not Liam, but he lets Bonehead push him aside, slumping back against the sofa.

“Greedy cunt,” Bonehead mutters, and Noel swats him upside the head, handing him the card.

“We should have a fucking celebration,” Liam declares grandly, gesturing widely with his beer bottle.

“For what?” Noel says. “Album’s not even fucking finished yet.”

“Sounds fucking great, though,” Liam says.

“Well, you’ve clearly not heard it then, have you?” Calum says with a snort, accepting the card Bonehead holds out to him and leaning over towards the coke. There’s not much left, but Liam’ll fucking do one if he doesn’t leave any for him. “Fucking hell, Noel. You a fucking vacuum?” Noel just grins and shrugs at him, cocaine clearly starting to settle into his veins, and Calum rolls his eyes, cutting two thin lines for himself and leaving enough for the same for Liam.

“It’ll sound great once it’s mixed,” Liam insists, as Calum bends down.

“That’s what you said last time,” Bonehead points out.

“No I fucking didn’t,” Liam says, even though he’d literally spent about a week bouncing around saying it’ll sound fucking great when it’s mixed, just you fucking wait. It’ll be fucking biblical. Calum straightens, wincing slightly and pinching the end of his nose, and throws Liam a look.

“You fucking did,” he says. Liam scowls at him, and motions for the card. “Come over here. No way you’ll reach the coke from over there.” Liam rolls his eyes but complies, heaving himself up and then throwing himself down next to Calum, making a noise of outrage when he sees how little is left for him.

“What the fuck, Noel?” he demands, and Noel just cackles. Christ, he’s blitzed out of his fucking mind already.

“We should fucking celebrate,” Noel says, like he hadn’t shot down Liam saying it not two minutes ago.

“Celebrate what, you prick?” Calum says, wrinkling his nose as the bitter cocaine drips down his throat. Fucking grim. At least his mouth will be too numb to taste it soon.

“Fucking all of it,” Noel says. “Us. Recording an album. The fact that we’re going to be number fucking one.” Calum snorts, but he’s starting to feel a little giddy, a little warmer, and he leans back with a grin.

“Number fucking one,” he repeats, and Liam nods solemnly next to him.

“Fucking right,” he says, like it’s what they’re owed. Calum catches Bonehead’s eye and grins, knows he’s thinking exactly what Calum’s thinking - yeah, us two fucking deserve it for putting up with the both of you.

“Just wait ‘til we release Supersonic,” Calum says, shuffling up a little to rest his head on Liam’s shoulder. Liam’s arm comes around him, warm and comforting, and he squeezes Calum absent-mindedly as he hums contentedly. Calum lets his eyes flutter shut, euphoric and a little overheated, grinning to himself as he lets himself fantasise. Number fucking one, he thinks to himself. Fucking imagine.

“Knock those Blur cunts off the top,” Noel says, and Calum’s eyes fly open.

“What?” he says.

“Their new song,” Noel says scornfully. “Fucking, what’s it? Girls who like boys who like girls who like boys, something like. Fucking shite.”

“New song?” Calum echoes, mind trying to work around the cocaine to process what he’s being told.

“Am I the only one who fucking listens to the radio?” Noel demands. “That’s our fucking competition, that is. We’ve got to knock them off the top spot.”

“Competition,” Calum says slowly. Competition. Michael Clifford is his competition.

And, fucking hell. Does Michael even know Calum’s his competition? Does Michael even know Calum’s in Oasis - does Michael even remember Calum? It’s been what, four fucking years now since the letters had petered out, since Calum had got too caught up in his new life of Liam and Noel and drugs and music and Michael had been too busy with his family and friends and the fucking police academy. Michael might not even recognise Calum, might not even remember his name.

(Something tells him, though, even through the haze of drugs and alcohol, that they could never forget each other. After all, it says, who forgets their first kiss? Who forgets their first fuck? Who, it says, a little too knowingly for Calum’s liking, forgets their first love?)

Liam seems to have sensed something’s up because he’s frowning, waving a hand in Calum’s face, and Calum blinks, shakes his head abruptly and sits bolt upright. He stopped loving Michael. He fucking did, no matter what the churning in his stomach might be telling him. That’s just the fucking booze.

“What the fuck’s up with you?” Liam says, sounding annoyed.

“Don’t feel great,” Calum says, which isn’t entirely untrue. The high’s too high, and the alcohol’s making his stomach clench and contract, and he’s sweating a little too much, and his hands are clammy, and-

“Oh, fucking hell,” he says, a little faintly, and lurches to his feet, crashing into the bathroom next door and only just making it to the toilet bowl before he’s throwing up everything he’d ingested in the previous twenty-four hours. He’s glad he’s still high because it means he can’t quite taste the bile in his throat, can’t entirely feel the way his stomach’s heaving that he distantly registers is going to absolutely fucking kill tomorrow.

Halfway through his retching someone appears behind him, kneeling down beside him and rubbing small circles on his back comfortingly. Calum feels fucking pathetic, slumped over the toilet bowl with tears leaking out of his eyes, someone making quiet, soothing sounds behind him, all because of fucking Michael Clifford.

(That thought makes him retch once again.)

“Waste of fucking coke, that is,” the person says mildly when he’s finished, leaning up and flushing for him, and it’s Liam. Of course it’s Liam. No one else would willingly spend their short high in a tiny, cramped bathroom watching Calum throw up. Noel would probably lock him in and turn off the water supply, maybe grab a camcorder for good measure.

Calum huffs out something that’s supposed to be a laugh but sounds like more of a sob as he sits back, wipes his upper lip and forehead and rests his head against the cool tile wall. Liam sits down opposite him, legs pressed against Calum’s because they’re both too fucking big for the bathroom on their own let alone together, and blinks at him.

“Fuck brought that on?” he says, more curious than anything. Calum’s stomach lurches again, images of Michael smiling at him sleepily on a Saturday morning, of Michael with his head tipped back in detention, laughing at something Calum had said, and the picture of him in the magazine, so much older and yet so fucking familiar, flashing through his mind in rapid succession.

“Probably just overdid it,” he says weakly. Liam gives him a hard stare.

“A fucking baby would’ve had a hard time getting high on what you snorted,” he says.

“Baby wouldn’t’ve drunk five fucking beers beforehand, though,” Calum says, coughing slightly and wincing as he tastes the echo of acid at the back of his throat.

“Depends whose baby it is,” Liam says. “Pretty sure mine would.” Calum snorts, and lets his eyes flutter shut as he starts to come back to himself a little, shivering and wrapping his arms around himself as he realises how cold he is. Fuck, he’s all clammy. Gross.

Almost as though he can read Calum’s thoughts, Liam nudges Calum’s knee with his own.

“You’re fucking rank,” he says.

“Cheers,” Calum says, not opening his eyes.

“Take a fucking shower.” Calum pulls a face. He’s not in the fucking mood to shower.

“Tomorrow,” he says. It’s not like Liam’s never done the same.

“You’re fucking rank, ” Liam tells him again, like he’d not thrown up in the sink two nights ago and left it there overnight, but he puts his hand on Calum’s shin and pats it, and Calum offers him a weak smile.

“You don’t have to stay,” he says.

“What, go back in there and listen to our kid break his neck sucking his own cock? Don’t fucking think so,” Liam scoffs. “I’ll be fucking sober in five minutes, anyway, given the amount of coke you pricks left me.” Calum smiles again, a little less wobbly this time.

“Sober?” he says. “You drank twice as much as me.”

“Not all of us are fucking Aussies, though, are we?” Liam says, and Calum can hear the grin in his voice. “Might as well be a fucking southerner, you.” That makes Calum open his eyes a fraction, enough to glare at Liam.

“Piss off,” he says. “You and your fucking Irish blood. I’d drink anyone else under the fucking table.”

“Fucking right,” Liam says proudly. “Never met anyone who could outdrink me, let alone an Aussie.”

“You’ve never met any except me, you prick,” Calum says, and Liam grins.

“Well, most of you fuckers are smart enough to stay where it’s warm and sunny and the birds are fit, aren’t you?” he says. “Only the stupid ones end up here.” Calum scowls, and kicks at Liam’s leg half-heartedly.

“Fuck off,” he says. “Didn’t choose to move here, did I? Got dragged kicking and screaming.”

“But you’re still here,” Liam points out, and Calum finds he doesn’t have an answer to that. At least, he thinks, not one he’s willing to give Liam.

“You must miss it,” Liam says when Calum doesn’t answer, a little surprised, like the thought’s only just crossed his mind after five fucking years of friendship. Which, knowing Liam, is probably the case.

“Australia?” Liam hums his assent. “Dunno. I guess. I miss Vegemite.” He hesitates, before adding: “Mostly miss my mates, though.”

“Oh?” Liam says, cocking an eyebrow at him. “You still talk to them?” Calum shrugs, a little uncomfortably. After all, it had been him that had ignored the last letter Michael had sent him. He’s the one who hadn’t written back.

“No,” he says. “Phone calls are too expensive, and none of us are fucked writing letters.”

“Ah, well,” Liam says, stretching out on the tiles and sighing contentedly. “Just you fucking wait ‘til we’re number one. You’ll see them then. We’ll be touring Australia three times a year, and that.” Calum can’t help but snort.

“Three times a year?” he says. “There’s only five fucking cities worth playing in.” Liam grins.

“And you’d better have friends in all of them, mate,” he says. “Not bloody paying for hotels if I can help it.”

“My mates are all in Sydney,” Calum says, and there’s a little tug in his chest as he realises that actually, that might not be true anymore. He doesn’t know what happened to Ashton and Luke, either. If Michael can go from police cadet in Sydney to fucking famous musician in the UK then Ashton and Luke are probably, like, astronauts, or something. Maybe he should check with the ASA.

“What?” Liam says curiously, clearly seeing the expression on Calum’s face, and Calum hesitates.

He’s not sure whether he should tell Liam. What the fuck would he even say? My ex, sort of, is in the band Noel’s lining up as our competition? You know Blur? Yeah, I fucked one of the guitarists. Liam wouldn’t get it. Great, he’d say, eyes gleaming. Eeyar, you must have some good stories about him. You can embarrass him in the press. Or maybe, get in, mate. Infiltrate them, eh? Fucking good thought. Oi, that Damon’s alright, isn’t he? Maybe I’ll have it on with him. He wouldn’t understand the weight behind it, what Michael meant to Calum. Means to Calum. Fuck, he doesn’t know anymore.

“I think a mate of mine might have moved over here,” Calum says eventually, when Liam raises an expectant eyebrow. It feels fucking weird calling Michael a mate. The word doesn’t feel quite complete in his mouth, like maybe there should be a soul prefixing it.

“Oh aye?” Liam says, raising his other eyebrow too, like he knows what Calum might mean by ‘mate’. “Where’s he living?”

“I don’t know,” Calum admits. Liam hums, like he’s thinking it over.

“D’you want to know?” he says, in that strangely perceptive way he sometimes does. Calum shrugs, and hopes Liam doesn’t catch the tension in his shoulders.

“Maybe,” he says. “Dunno. Depends.” He doesn’t elaborate, and Liam doesn’t ask him to. Instead, his emotional capacity probably filled for the night, he claps his hand on Calum’s thigh.

“Want to see if we can get Noel to piss himself?” he says, eyes bright, and Calum can’t help but snort.

“‘Course I fucking do,” he says, getting to his feet. Liam braces himself on the sink as he pulls himself up, a little unsteady, and grins.

“Ten quid says he does,” he says, and Calum snorts. Noel had pissed himself once, three years ago, and Liam can’t fucking let go of it.

“You don’t fucking have ten quid,” he says, following Liam out of the room, still feeling a little light-headed and woozy, but no longer nauseous.

“Neither do you,” Liam counters, pushing open the door to the living room, and Calum has to concede there.

“How about the loser sucks the other’s dick, then?” he says, grinning, and Liam throws his head back as he laughs.

“You’re on,” he says over his shoulder, eyes twinkling.

“Who’s getting who to suck their dick?” Noel demands.

“You’re helping me get Calum to suck my dick,” Liam tells him, throwing himself down on the sofa next to Noel and resting his head on Noel’s chest. Almost instinctively, Noel’s arm comes around him, holding him close. Calum could almost be fooled into thinking they’re in some sort of a truce, that the booze and cocaine have broken down the barrier of hatred between them and left only the underlying love, until Liam reaches forwards, picks up a bottle of beer and holds it to Noel’s lips with a wicked grin.

“Drink up.”

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chapter two

#malum #lashton #5sos fic #5sos fanfic #5sos slash #mate i seriously cant believe im posting this #what goes on in my head. or more accurately what doesnt go on in my head why dont i have a brain #i cannot believe i have 50k of this. 50k. i'm seriously going to hell

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