#gonna chug wine and think on it while I keep writing
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I’m torn between posting the first chapter of the friends/enemies/lovers fic now or waiting until I finish the second chapter. I’m not used to this. How do you multi-chapter writers cope with these types of decisions
#FUCK#this is why long fics stress me out#chapter one is short and dense (intentionally) cause I didn’t want all that action/plot crowding up the dialogue heavy second chapter#but it’s for that very reason I wanted chapter 2 done so I can just put that out right after#AUGH#gonna chug wine and think on it while I keep writing#a.txt
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A Sticky Note (Tangerine x GN!Reader)
Summary: After a year and a half of Tangerine disappearing from your life, he invites you out for dinner. Angsty overtones with a tiny hint of NSFW at the end.
(A/N: This is my first Tangerine fanfiction ever, which is special to me because he’s what inspired me after my 5 year writing hiatus.) Shoutout to our collective pookie bear 🍊🧡
Downing the rest of my first glass of wine, I opened my phone again. It was about 5 minutes since Tangerine said to meet him at our old favorite restaurant: a chain Mexican restaurant around town that had cheap booze and the best street tacos around. It was obviously crowded (as any other place to eat on a friday night would be) but that’s what he’d always preferred. Any way he could blend in with a crowd and not draw attention to himself he took it. Hell, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he was already here, spying on me.
A figure approaches the table and I already knew from the pure energy of sarcasm and intimidation it created that it was him. “‘Hey Darlin, love the hair.” He said smoothly, motioning to my hair and sitting across from me. He picked up the menu nonchalantly and I could already feel my blood rising just how it used to with him around.
“You leave me a note to dump me, ghost me for a whole year and a half, and all you can say is…love the hair?” I question him, a storm in my eyes and lightning striking in my voice. Tangerine remained unphased as he put his menu down, glancing at me as if I was the asshole.
“Love the way you looked when you practically chugged that wine?” he tries again, this time with a mocking smile on his face. God did he know every single button to push tonight, it’s as if he had never left me in the first place. While I usually wouldn’t enjoy some asshole saying this to me, there was something about Tange that made anything to say to me sound so much more slicker and polite from his lips. “I’m sorry, Love, you know I could never handle this sorta thing.” A smile forms on his face, but I can’t make it out if it was out of narcissism over his own charm or if he truly was in hell, finally having to confront the mess he made out of me.
“Why are you here anyway? Last time I checked you moved God knows where and wiped off the planet. Do you know how much I cried about you?” I bit my tongue to stop myself from causing a scene. I couldn’t help but feel old scars opening. I took in a deep breath to stop my eyes from watering; I’ve already confessed how much control he had over me, I can’t let him think he still has any.
“Love, I’m sorry. But with a job like mine, it was always a possibility that I would have to vanish on ya.”
“I knew you would maybe have to eventually leave me because of all that, but Jesus, a sticky note? That’s fucked.” I hiss as I lean forward, trying to keep the argument between us. It felt painful to scold him here, it’s where we always went after we resolved a fight. There would be so much lust in his eyes from across the table back then. As I look at him, there’s more of a coldness to them towards me, but there’s moments where it slips and I can see that same look again. “You didn’t answer my question.” I add because I know he won’t say anything about it.
“I was in town, thought I’d take a visit down memory lane.” He says in a casual manner, as if we were simply classmates in college that shared notes and not someone who kept a toothbrush and fresh underwear at my apartment. The morning he left, even those weren’t there anymore. I had nothing in my life to tangibly show someone that Tangerine was my boyfriend at some point.
I get up from the table and start digging cash out of my wallet. “If you’re gonna act like this I don’t want to see you.” Before I could put the five dollar bill onto the table, he grabbed my wrist with just enough force for me to not break away.
“Look, I’m sorry, Doll, I’m fucking flounderin’ here. I’ve been thinking forever on what I’d say to you, but I always drew a blank. Can you give me a break, for once?” I look into his eyes, an unfamiliar note of sincerity in them. It was so out of character that it caused me to stay and let him try again. “It was a shit thing to do, Love. I should’ve told you in person, I handled the situation like a boy and not a man.”
I raised an eyebrow and a small smile started to make its way onto my lips. “There’s no way you just thought of that little speech.”
Tangerine smiles at me, letting out a sn exhale of humor. “That's about all I had.” He says, using his hand to smooth out his mustache, something I knew was a rare tell of him being nervous. “How have you been?” He asks, his accent sounding like a song that used to be stuck in my head.
“It’s nothing new, Diesel’s doing good. She misses you.” I say before opening a picture of the gray cat Tangerine and I picked out together. Lemon had convinced me to name her Diesel because “she looks like one” and he ended up convincing me (after all, she is a bit of an asshole) Tangerine purses his lips as he hears the name of the cat who used to cuddle into his lap as he read. I was surprised he didn’t take her with him.
“I miss you…” He says as he looks into my eyes with a warm smile. Ironically it was at the same time my frozen strawberry margarita arrived at the table, the news making me immediately take a sip from the drink.
“Are…are you fucking with me?” I ask, even though I’ve made my mind up about his answer. “What are you? Is this like a thing you do?” I cross my arms and raise my shoulders in a defensive position. His stance was a lot less confident and he hurriedly sat up going into damage mode.
“Hey Hey, I’m sorry. I really am. The biggest thing I regret is that stupid fucking sticky note.” His tone gets more aggressive as he curses his actions. “But…I couldn’t face seeing you sad. And I couldn't face me getting sad.” There’s a pause, he resonates in the confession, as if it might be the first time he confessed it to himself. “I really really fucking liked you, doll. I never wanted to break your heart, honest.”
I can’t help but just stare at him. The usual smoothing of the mustache fidget is now paired with a bouncing leg. To an untrained eye, this might look like a man who is just waiting for his food, but to someone who knows Tangerine, this was his equivalent to a nervous breakdown.
“…so did you decide what you’re getting?” I ask him, picking up the menu again and glancing over to him. His face is puzzled but I shoot him a look, one that signifies I’m allowing him to have a normal dinner with me. It was a lot for him to admit any sort of weakness so I figured I might as reward it.
“Well for now I just want some fuckin booze, it’s been so long since I had the shittiest vodka ever, I miss it.” He smiles at me and I laugh at his quip. It was probably a mistake to not grill him for longer. I could’ve made him beg at my feet or give me his wallet at that point if I wanted to. But the more I look at his flawless features, the more his charm works on me, as if it’s some intoxicating aura that takes all your strength to resist.
It’s probably a shit idea, but I think I’ll let him explain it after dinner. I curse myself knowing that he’ll tell me about it all in between our sheets as we stay up all night with pillow talk, just like we used to.
#bullet train#bullet train 2022#bullet train tangerine#bullet train x reader#bullet train fanfic#angst fanfic#tangerine angst#tangerine bullet train#as a little treat#he's so babygirl yummy#Wrote this high so if you see any mistakes no you didn't <3
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'Tis the Damn Season - Part 2
Pairing: Danny Wagner x Reader
Word Count: 2,078
Warnings: Fluff, angst, sadness, more fluff. As always, let me know if I missed any!
Broke my own heart writing this one :')
If you haven’t already, read part one
Bored was an understatement as you found yourself picking at your sweater while half listening to your family drag on about all the latest small-town gossip, the sole reason you left in the first place. You eventually wandered into the kitchen to get a refill of whatever would shut your brain off for at least five minutes. The holidays seemed to linger like bad perfume, and truthfully you wanted nothing more than to just pack up and drive back to the city but you know you’d never hear the end of it from your mom. And as much as you were highly considering bailing on Danny, something in your brain was screaming at you to hear him out.
You practically gulped down a glass of wine before beginning to refill the glass as your mom walked in. She sat her glass down beside yours, “Pour me one while you’re at it.” The two of you stood in silence as you sipped your drinks until you spoke up. “I saw Danny while I was out today.” You quietly said, as if trying not to let anyone else hear. Her eyes perked up as she turned towards you, waiting to hear the details of your encounter. “Oh?”
Though your mom could be a little perfunctory at times, she really was there for you when things were tough, especially the day Danny called things off. You recall the memory of you coming home with tears streaming down your face. She held you on the couch all night long, gently rocking you in her arms while whispering words of comfort until you eventually fell asleep.
“He wants to talk.” You muttered out, your voice full of dread and anxiety. “Well, honey. I know you two didn’t end things on good terms but maybe it’ll be good for you. For both of you. You’re both adults now, you shouldn't keep holding onto the past.
You hated how much she was right but simply nodded in agreement. “Just don’t go in with any expectations. Be open minded and mind your tongue before you start jumping in with blame.”
You took a long sip of your wine before replying. “I know. But you know how hard I worked to put all this behind me, I’m worried about messing all that up.” She placed her hand over yours, gently rubbing it and offering a warm smile. “I know Y/N. But I also know that you’ve got a brain up there that will tell you exactly what to do. You’ve got this.”
Well shit, didn’t expect to start crying just yet.
“Thanks mom. I think I’m gonna go lay down for a bit. If I have to hear Grandma Jean talk about ‘this damn inflation’ one more time, I might actually go crazy.” She chuckled in response as you both exited the kitchen and parted ways. Crawling into your bed, you continued sipping your wine as you aimlessly scrolled social media. Your heart panged a bit as you saw your friends had taken a weekend trip to the mountains. Something you had been suggesting to them for weeks. So much for that.
Setting your phone on the nightstand, you chugged the rest of the liquid in your glass before grabbing a blanket and closing your eyes, letting sleep consume you, even if for just a few minutes.
---
Clink!
The sound woke you from your slumber. Confused, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you took in the now dark room. How long did you sleep for? You grabbed your phone and was slightly blinded by the brightness but managed to distinguish the time, 11:13pm.
Clink!
The same sound snapped you out of your thoughts as you turned to look for the source of the noise. It wasn’t until the third time that you realized it was coming from your window. Cautiously, you walked over and gasped at the sight.
There, Danny stood with several small rocks in his hands. You quickly opened the window and stuck your head out, the brisk air fully waking you up.
“Danny, what the hell are you doing?” You quietly yelled out. “Sorry, I figured you’d probably changed your number when you moved. Wasn’t sure how else to contact you.” He replied honestly, wiping his hands on his jeans after dropping the rest of the rocks back to the ground. You shook your head at his stubborn determination, something that used to drive you crazy. “Plus, if I remember correctly, you agreed.”
You were then met with his outstretched arm as both of you knew you’d need his help to climb out of the window that was just a touch too high off the ground. “C’mon, just like old times.” His smirk held the memories of the countless times he’d helped you sneak out of the house to go on these late night drives, something the both of you quickly made a habit of.
It had been years since you’d crawled through this window, yet you still found yourself doing the same maneuvers to twist your body through the opening. His hands quickly found their way to your hips, gently squeezing as he helped you down. When your feet finally touched the ground below, his hands didn’t leave your hips. You two locked eyes for a moment until he realized what he was doing, clearing his throat. “Sorry. Uh, shall we go?” You nodded as he led the way to his truck parked on the street in front of your house.
“Still driving that old thing?” You fake insulted, though mostly surprised that it was still running. “Gets me where I need to go. No need to get a new one when there’s nothing wrong with this one.” He grinned, giving an encouraging pat to the hood of the truck.
Like old times, he opened the passenger door for you and you muttered out a quiet thank you. You felt like you were transported back in time. Apart from the more worn leather seats, the interior of his truck looked virtually unchanged; the same beaded necklace still hung from his rear view mirror, but what surprised you the most was the little drummer rubber duck still perched up on the driver’s side dashboard. One of your nephews had given you the small toy years ago at their birthday party and naturally you gave it to Danny. You couldn’t believe he had kept it there after all these years.
Danny slid in the driver’s seat and cranked the truck to life before slowly pulling out of your neighborhood. For a while, the only sound was that from the radio, a familiar tune filling the slightly awkward silence. That was, until Danny spoke up again.
“So, how have things been? Big city girl now, huh?” He suddenly broke the silence. “Yeah uh, kind of a haste decision but I love it.” You replied. He took a deep breath before speaking again. “Was it because of me?”
“Danny, are we really gonna do this?” You sighed out, already starting to feel the rush of emotions come flooding back.
“Yes, Y/N. We are gonna do this. Because I fucked up, okay? I’m sor-.” Despite your mom’s words from earlier playing in your ear, you couldn't help the word vomit coming up.
“Are you though? Are you really Danny? Or are you just saying that? Because you weren’t there. You went away to college while I was left to pick up all the pieces. You have no idea the shit I went through because you decided to just give up on us.” The tears had long started falling down your face as you barely choked out the last few words.
He was silent, accepting your words as he knew you were right. ‘Danny you really hurt me. I couldn't escape it. Everything reminded me of you and it fucking hurt. Do you know how hard it was having everyone look at me like I was some pathetic little lost dog. You never even reached out.” You whispered, wiping the tears from your eyes.
He suddenly pulled off the road into a field that lined the backroads the two of you were traveling down. As he put the truck in park, he turned towards you before replying.
“Y/N I know and I swear to god if I could go back in time and change it, I would. I was so fucking stupid for ever letting you go. But by the time I realized it, it was too late and I was scared. Scared that you had moved on and found someone new. Scared that you wouldn’t feel the same way anymore. Scared that I had really lost you forever and that there was nothing I could do to fix it. Please believe me.” He reached his hand over to grab yours that rested in your lap.
“I love you so much Y/N. I never stopped loving you.” He spoke. You couldn't help the tears as they started flowing again, much harder than before. Danny suddenly released your hand, quickly exiting the truck and you watched in confusion as he walked over to your side, throwing the door open. He reached over your lap, unbuckling your seatbelt before gently guiding you out of the vehicle. He simply engulfed you in a hug and just held you as you continued to cry out. “I’m so sorry baby.” you could hear the sniffle in his own voice as the two of you just stood there embracing one another while the stars twinkled above.
A couple minutes later, you spoke up again. “I often wonder what my life would be like if things would have worked out. I wouldn’t be living in a city with my so-called friends. I’m pretty sure they don’t even like me. None of them can tell which smiles I’m faking like you could.” You replied honestly.
“You know. The only reason I ever come back here is because of you. I’m always hoping that one day you’ll be here. Looks like I finally got my wish.” He answered, slightly pulling back to look at you. Slowly at first to make sure it was okay, he began gently kissing away each individual tear that had fallen from your eyes, getting dangerously closer to your lips with every peck.
“Danny-” You whispered out. He pulled back once more, looking between your eyes once more for any sign to stop, but there was none. Leaning back in, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. Though gentle at first, it quickly evolved into one with so much more passion and hunger, as if trying to make up for lost time. Trying to heal all the damage and hurt that he had caused. Despite not having done this in years, the two of you found your rhythm just like that. Like nothing had changed.
Before things could get too heated, he pulled back again. Confusion shot across your face as you immediately began to feel regret. But just as quickly, he sensed it and reassured you. “I don’t want to push things. I just got you back and I don’t want to lose you again. Not this time Y/N. Let’s just take it slow.” You were a little disappointed because his lips felt so perfect against yours but Danny was right.
He released your hand and grabbed the blanket you briefly remembered seeing folded up in the back before walking around to the back of the truck to open the tailgate. Nodding his head towards the bed of the truck, he held his hand out for yours. “C’mon, let's just watch the stars. I remember you used to love that.” You smiled as his hands found your hips once again to help you up before joining you.
There, the two of you sat together on the blanket, holding each other incredibly close like your lives depended on it. It wasn’t long before your eyes started feeling heavy and a yawn escaped your lips. Danny shifted a bit so you could lay more comfortably against his warm chest as he kept one arm around you while the other drew gentle patterns on your legs. The soft beat of his heart lulled your mind into a deep state of relaxation. Just before sleep consumed you, you felt him kiss the top of your head and could have sworn you heard him speak softly. “Still so perfect.”
✶ ✶ ✶
Taglist:
@jannysarcher @gretnavannfleet @bimbokiszka
#greta#greta van fic#gvf#gvf imagine#gretavanfleet#daniel robert wagner#danny wagner#gvf danny#danny gvf#dannywagner#danny wagner x reader#danny wagner x you#danny wagner x y/n#gardensgatekeeper
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After the Storm Hits
Back at it again with a Jason story! This one takes place in 2001 before Jason joined the marines and cell phones were still pretty new (crazy, right?). This one was just a quick idea I had and wanted to write it while it was fresh in my mind. It's got angst so get ready!
Pairing: Jason Kolchek x Reader
Masterlist
SPOILER ALERT FOR JASON'S BACKSTORY!!
(gif by me)
Kolchek/Y/L/N Household, September 10, 2001
“I literally can’t have a conversation with you without it turning into an argument!” You told your boyfriend.
“It’s not like you’re easy to talk to anymore either!” Jason yelled back.
“I just---” Your voice wavered so you cut yourself off. No. You needed to stand firm. “I can’t keep taking care of you when you’re busy getting high all day. I can’t keep spending my money on bills while yours goes to weed all the time. I can’t keep this up by myself, Jason. I’m just asking for a little bit of help here.”
Jason didn’t say anything. You knew it. You knew you shouldn’t have even bothered, he’s pretty stoned right now to even maintain a conversation, let alone argue. He’s busy in his head right now, zoned out while watching the muted TV.
“Jason!” You called out to him, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“What?” Jason asked, trying to keep his attention on you.
“I don’t know if I can keep doing this. I think we need to end this.”
You saw Jason take a deep breath and sit down, his head in his hands before his fingers ran through his hair.
“Then go.” He told you, irritably.
You fought back the tears as you nodded. Part of you hoped that he would have put up some sort of fight, make an attempt to change...but he didn’t. You loved him so much but you couldn’t keep struggling to keep the two of you afloat.
“I’ll, uh...I’ll be back for my stuff after work tomorrow.” You told him before you headed to the door.
You turned back to see him grabbing the remote to the TV and unmuting it. A tear fell down your cheek as you walked out the door. Jason sat still for a moment, stewing in what just happened...you broke up with him.
“Fuck!” Jason cried out, throwing the remote.
He wished he would’ve heard you out. But he had to just zone out while you were talking. And now he lost the one he loved. This sobered him up a little bit and that was too much for him already.
He grabbed his pipe and packed it with the fresh buds he bought earlier in the day. He didn’t want to feel anything right now so he’d just smoke until he went numb. Three years...three years gone in just minutes...seconds….
You had heard him curse when you hit the parking lot. God, did you wanna go back...just take back the break up....you loved him but love was not enough to keep enabling him and love wasn’t gonna pay the bills. You took your cell phone from your pocket….who would’ve guessed that phones could be carried around like this?...and called your best friend.
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Penny Albrecht's Home, September 10, 2001
Your best friend, Penny, opened the door, greeting you with a hug.
“Oohhh honey.” Penny said, squeezing you tight.
No. Not here. You were not gonna break down. You didn’t like crying in front of people and you were hoping to hold it together until you could be alone.
“You okay?” Penny asked.
“Hanging in there.” You replied with a shrug.
“I called Becky and she’s on her way.” Penny led you inside and to her couch. “We’re gonna get through this breakup together.”
You didn’t say anything as you sat down. Taking a deep breath, you held onto your tears. You had to fight calling Jason to see if he was doing okay….but who were you kidding, you were sure he was getting stoned again.
Before you knew it, Becky was over and you guys were talking about the breakup.
“I always thought you could do better than him anyway.” Becky said, taking a sip of her wine. “He’s always smoking, how did you even put up with that?”
“Don’t answer that, anyway….” Penny interrupted, trying to change the subject. “Do you know what you’re gonna do now?”
You chugged your glass of wine, polishing off the rest.
“I don’t know yet. I told him I was gonna get my stuff tomorrow but I gotta figure out where I’m gonna take it.”
“I have plenty of room. You can move in with me.” Becky suggested, offering you a comforting smile.
You lightly nodded, returning Becky’s smile but yours didn’t reach your eyes.
“What about after?” Penny pushed.
“I don’t know.” You replied with a sigh. “Just keep doing what I’m doing, I guess. Just single now.”
“You know, there is a common saying about the calm before the storm…but no one ever talks about the deafening silence after the storm hits. I just wish I knew what to say to make you feel better.”
You nodded again before breaking down into tears. This is what you were hoping to avoid but with alcohol in your system? Should’ve seen it coming.
“It’s gonna get better, Y/N. We’ll be there with you every step of the way.” Becky said as he scooted closer to you, wrapping her arms around you.
____________-------------------------
Kolchek Household, September 18, 2001
Wait, what the hell? Planes hit the twin towers last week? Where--how--?
How did he not hear or see anything about this until now? Jason tried to go through the events of his last week...but nothing came up. Well, besides the breakup. He was stoned beyond belief. Last time he did that, it was with some friends for a concert...Y/N was not happy when he got home.
It wasn’t until now he realized that he smoked too much...and because of this, he had no job. No future...no significant other….he was going nowhere. God, you were right to break up with him, he sees that now.
Jason had a press conference for President George W. Bush as background noise as he spoke of the attacks on September 11….the day after you broke up with him. He wanted so badly to call you, probably go as far as begging you to take him back with promises of changing.
His eyes found the TV again.
No.
He would join the military. That would help to ensure that he would get his shit together. And on top of that, he’d be fighting for a cause.
To be honest though, mostly he’d be getting his shit together. Maybe if that happened or you saw him at least trying, he’d be able to win you back. He remembered that there was a recruitment office for the Marines 10 minutes away. Maybe this was happening too fast but Jason knew he needed to act on it now before he talked himself out of it only to fall back into old habits again.
But first, he went over to his landline, dialing your phone number. You didn’t answer, which he figured it might be because you were at work.
“Hey, Y/N, it’s me.” Jason started. “Look, I know I fucked up. I won’t argue with that. I just wanted to tell you that...I’m gonna change. I’m about to go to the recruitment office and enlist in the Marines….I, uh....I’m sorry that it took this long to see that I was wrong. I’m gonna do better. I’m gonna be better. I’ll...I hope I’ll see you around, Y/N. I'm sorry. I love you.”
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Losing you pt III: Picking up the pieces
Pairing: Spencer x Reader
Category: angst, slight fluff.
Resume: Reader struggles to get over a traumatic experience and isolates themselves. They have an outburst, Spencer finds them in the middle of it and offers a helping hand.
Trigger warnings: death, blood, trauma, anger issues, alcohol (please let me know of something was forgotten)
A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this series. Let me know if you like it or what you would like to see. This is what would’ve happened if Linda Barnes was leader of the team. I’m guessing this is a bit of homage to Elle who deserved better. I would love to hear your feedback and whether you want a fourth part. Thanks <3
You slipped off your blind fold, your calmness was interrupted by the broad figure in front of your eyes. The hooded man slowly made his way towards you.
“Please, don’t kill me!” you screamed at the top of your lungs. He looked at you with such viciousness as if he was planning all the horrendous things he was going to do to you in his head. You rose up panting from another hostile episode slapping the light switch of the lamp on your nightstand.
You were on your bed completely exhausted yet wide awake. You could not allow yourself to sleep because every time you did you woke up in sweats due hallucinations and nightmares. You could not differentiate what was real and what was an illusion anymore. You walked to your kitchen pouring yourself a glass of water, your hands were so shaky you dropped the glass and flenched at the sound. By trying to pick up the pieces you cut your hand, the sight of blood on your hands brought you back to that night when you almost died and your boss hardly bat an eye.
Your vision was getting blurred whether it was your brain making you depersonalise or your tears clouding your view you couldn’t tell. You were uncontrollably sobbing. That’s when it hit you, you needed help. You hated yourself for it, it flet like you were a burden. However, you felt guilt creep in furthermore when you saw your phone light up with all the texts, all the calls you ignored making the team even more worried. You swiped the notification from your 13 missed calls making your phone call Spencer. You felt a rush go through your vein, a rush to abort whatever mission you were on, the rush to flight. The kind of rush that could’ve saved your life.
After two rings you hung up feeling stupid, now wondering if you woke him up for nothing. You slammed your phone on your kitchen counter. The anger levels spiking, overtaking the small amount of rational thoughts in your head. You sighed running your hands through your hair. Completely numb, more and more glass shattered on the floor. Once the energy was in too limited quantity in your body. You grabbed a bottle of wine chugging from it in your bathtub like a child trying to avoid family gatherings. You cried until you were too dehydrated to keep the tears flowing, until your eyes were swollen.
The ring of your doorbell caught your attention. Or was it another cruel hallucination ? You were going to ignore it until you heard it be rung once more. You checked who it was through the lense.
“Shit,” you swore, it was Spencer.
“Open the door, Y/n. I know you’re here.” you rolled your eyes at Spencer’s request your back pressed against the cold steel.
“I’m a mess.” you responded trying to dissuade him to come in.
“Your mess is my mess. I’m your home, remember ?”
You smiled detaching yourself from the door unlocking it. He pressed the handle letting his weight make the door shift open. You were brushing with a broom the glass pieces to the side to allow him to circulate safely in your apartment. He saw the blood on your floor, the bandage on your hand; he solved the puzzle himself. You turned to him, no words were needed, he saw the look in your eyes. He cupped the back of your head with one of his hands and wrapped his arm around your torso carefully, gently as if you were as fragile as fine china. You wrapped your arms around his waist breathing in his scent. He pulled away, both hands at the side of your head.
“I want to be that person you can tell anything to. The good and the bad.”
You looked up at him. “Barnes is considering suspending me because I did not follow his orders. Spencer, I had no choice…” he could hear your heart break in your voice.
“She’s not allowed to do this.” He informed you.
“She’s not ?” He nodded in response.
“She violated protocole in the first place by using governmental fund for a case too personal to him. He got his proof only by putting you in a position of danger when she needed it to act. Like you said you had no other choice. I’ve done it before, I was never reprimanded me.”
“Yeah cause you’re a man. If a man kills a rapist, he’s a hero but if a woman does it, she’s a cold-blooded crazy murderer. Gosh, I miss Emily.”
“Talk about double standards.” Spencer said, “You know, she misses you too, we all do.”
“I doubt it, honestly. I was so determined to get her validation it almost cost me my life. Maybe I should just let her know how I feel.”
“Yeah, you definitely should.”
“But what am I even gonna say to her ? What if she’s right ? What if I’m actually delusional or dangerous ?”
“Hey, hey, Y/n. Slow down.”
“Please talk some sense to me. It’s like I’m going out of my mind!”
“It wasn’t your fault. It was legitimate defence. I saw it, the whole team saw it and has your back.” he reassured you, his face closer to yours.
“Should I write her a-“
“No, you’re not doing anything tonight.” He interrupted you. “Just go take a shower then we can talk about it. Sounds good ?” you nodded to respond to him which he, as usual didn’t mind even after going on an endless monologue.
While you were in the shower, he cleaned up the mess your anger made. Once you were done, you sat down on your matcha green sofa watching the sunrise. “It’s already 4am ?! I’m so sorry for keeping you awake.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m a night owl anyways so it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Did you know that falling asleep late is linked with a high IQ ?” he said making his way to you with two cups of tea.
“Then I must be a genius.” you answered half jokingly. “Oh thank you.” you took hold of the warm but not steamy cup in your hands. You remembered Spencer once telling you that the reason why so many dislike tea is because they think it tastes like dirt, it’s not supposed taste like that, see, if the water is burning hot it’s going to burn the leaves and speed the infusion process making it too concentrated. You turned to look at him, he was already looking.
“Sometimes I wonder how you can put up with me.”
“Because I love you.” He never failed to remind you how much he loves you even especially on your worst days. You explained what had been going on, he debunked and dismantled every question pending in you head, every lie your brain told you. It felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. For the first time in a while, you felt safe in your own home. Instead of your alarm clock, the sound of the birds were ringing in you ears. You both agreed to go talk to Barnes to solve whatever the problem was that morning. “I’m not going down without a fight, especially not when it comes to that bitch!” Spencer boldly commented to your surprise. You weren’t healed just yet but at least you got out and socialised. At least you opened up to someone you could trust.
You stepped out of the elevator one hand holding coffee, the other holding your boyfriend’s hand. Everyone walked up to you giving you a hug and greeting you. Penelope was so enthusiastic it was overwhelming.
“Long time no see,” commented Luke. “You too,” you hugged him back.
“What happened to your hand ?” asked JJ.
“I dropped a glass.” you nervously responded, you were telling the truth…at least part of it.
“Welcome back!” said Tara squeezing an embrace as well.
“Oh I don’t know about that just yet.” you said to her.
“We need to talk to Barnes first.” added Spencer.
“Whatever happens, we’re with you, Y/n” said Garcia. The others agreed, it felt good to be supported, so much you regret isolating yourself for so long.
Silence made its way into a conversation that was once filled by joy. You threw your coffee in the trash can before turning your body towards his office. Spencer, resting his hand on your back, asked “Are you ready, darling ?” You took in a deep breath sharply, nodding your head yes without taking your gaze off the door.
#criminal minds#fluff#imagine#spencer#spencer reid#criminal minds fic#spencer reid fluff#angst#y/n#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid angst#spencer reid x reader#spencer x y/n#criminal minds spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#cbs#fbi cbs#emotional
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I was bored so here’s some hc’s
I have a lot surprisingly so a lot of these are coming off the top of my head
-Laxus does not have good eyesight in the eye with a scar because that's where the lacrima was implanted. But he can still see out of it, it just gets blurry sometimes.
-If you had a lacrima implanted in you, there's gonna be a scar where it was implanted, and depending on what type of magic it is determine's the shape.
-Laxus's mother was born without magic and had the same thing happen to her but she was 16 when she had it implanted in her hand, she also had asked to have one and Laxus didn't.
-Laxus was born without magic thanks to his mother being born without magic too.
-When you get a lacrima implanted in you, depending on what type and how strong it is, depends on how sick you get. It's a counterbalance so people won't always get lacrima's implanted in them. The day it was implanted you get very sick as the body's reaction to an overwhelming influx of magic in your system, it happens every year in the same day it was implanted but the first time is the worst.
-"This is what I get for being emotionally slutty," Loke probably looking back on some kind of event.
-Loke with freckles!
-Loke sleeps when he's bored.
-Lucy suffers the worst writer's block ever and can't seem to ever get out of it no matter how hard she tries(I feel you girl).
-Plue really likes candy.
-Happy got Lucy a little frame that said "Life is better with cats" for her Birthday and despite how much Happy annoys her sometimes she keeps it on the desk she writes on and treasures it dearly.
-Do not let Erza play whack a mole or the games where you have to throw balls at clowns or vases you have to knock down to win a prize.
-Or let the dragon slayers play any driving game in general.
-Horror movies do not scare Aries, a lot of things do, but not horror movies.
-Mira really likes candles, but always gets them when they're on sale.
- Gray once got banned from a strip club after being mistaken for one of the strippers.
-Juvia could literally kill someone if she wanted to since our bodies are made of 60% of water but has no idea. She desires to learn more about blood magic if she so desires but hasn't.
-Levy wants to study rune magic but procrastination is her worst enemy, also people trying to attack the guild interrupting her every time she tries to cracks open a book to try and learn it. She's stopped trying to learn it in fear that if she tries someone will start attacking the guild again.
-Gajeel & Juvia and Gray & Loke are very underrated friendships that need more attention.
-Natsu chugged hot sauce and didn't even flinch. (A friend of mine did that and they scare me.)
-Lucy carries around a box of matches just in case Natsu wants a snack whenever they go on missions.( which is a lot of the time, a lot of her money has went into buying matches, she's had to go to plenty different stores to buy some because she's scared the clerk will think she's up to something and explaining it will only make her seem more suspicious.)
-Technically demon slayers are just exorcists but with more violence.
-In a human au Gray was an exorcist once.
But in normal Fairy Tail he takes side jobs on getting rid of demons from ordinary houses or other places which pays a lot.
-The wool Aries can make, can make really nice jackets. She's made jackets using it, but Loke stole it cause he likes comfy things in general.
-Loke actually needs his glasses, his glasses double as both sunglasses and normal glasses(someone I know someone who has the same type of glasses, I also wear glasses so.) due to being in Earthland too long, certain things started deteriorating like important sense's thankfully it wasn't on a major scale but on a longer one but it can't be fixed.
-Due to his eyesight deteriorating he has better hearing.
-Loke and Evergreen are nearsighted, Levy is farsighted.
-Ivan named Laxus because Laxus looked so much like his mother it only seemed fair.
-Laxus has an aunt who's his mom's sister. He talks to her through letters because she lives across the sea.
-"My little dragon," was a nickname that Laxus's mom gave him after he had gotten the dragon lacrima implanted in him against her wishes since if they were to do it, she wanted to do it when he was 16 like her but Ivan thought 8 was a much more appropriate age. (It was not). The only one who knows of this nickname for him is Makarov, his mom, his aunt, and his dad.
-His dad once used the name in a fight against him and he wanted to punch him so bad.
-If Mira were to swear she'd put sailors to shame.
-Erza has horrible road rage.
-I refuse to believe that Loke has two sets of ears, he does not have human ears and lion(cat ears?) ears at the same time just lion ears while in his celestial form and humans ones in his human form. He wears the piercing he used to wear on his human ears on his cat ears when in said celestial form, or outfit or whatever.
-The car ears(I'm calling them that now) are actual ears, you'd be surprised how many people try to pull on them in thinking that they aren't only to be pleasantly surprised that they in fact are. He likes to be pet behind them whenever they are there and he doesn't have regular human ears.
-He also despises chokers/collars with the very soul of his being. He might hiss at you if you bring one even close to him that's how much he hates them.
He doesn't even have a reason to he just hates them.
-Erza sometimes refers to her guildmates as "Feral children".
-Dragonslayers cannot whistle if their life depended on it.
-Loke knows French because most of his masters were in the French Court meaning it was mandatory for him to learn it. (I refuse to believe anyone with common sense would date him with that haircut he had in the human world, looked like something a 5-year-old would draw on a stick figure in an attempt to draw hair).
-Levy knows French, Arabic, and a few other languages.
-She fucks with people by talking to Loke in French and making them think that they're talking about that person why they aren't.
-Mira tried to learn French, she failed very badly since she kept forgetting the parts before the word and kept messing it up.
-The dragon slayers can purr when happy, growl when mad, and whimper when sad.
-The same thing applies to Loke but mostly because he's an overgrown cat.
-In order to date someone at the guild if you aren't in it you have to get Erza's blessing/asking her if it's alright since she's kinda the older sister and also the first one you wanna tell.
-Loke does not blow-dry his hair after he washes it because it just poof's up and there's no way to fix it other than to wash his hair again and look like a drowned cat for an hour or two. Though his hair is very soft after he washes it and it properly drys and isn't wet.
-Celestial spirits can dream, but their dreams consist of looking back on old memories from an outside viewpoint.
-Freed says "Let's have another round tonight" very unenthusiastically when drunk, just that sentence, no other sentence, just that one, only when he's drunk.
-Loke's good with finances along with fashion because one of his previous master, Valeria, pushed her financial work on him as a 'learning experience'.
-Loke was also offered a modeling job before and Lucy is super pissed since he of all people can get one but not her. (In the human au, he actual does modeling)
-If Mira and Loke were to team up it'd most like to be to help people in the guild get together.
-They would succeed.
-They both also like wine.
-Loke and Erza are bi, Mira is pan.
-Upon learning about this, Juvia considered Loke a love rival, be assured her that he was none and that he'd give her some advice to trying to date Gray because Gray and romance don't go well if she kept quiet about it.
-Gray ended up figuring it out and still holds it against him.
-Loke does not like being compared to a cat, he despises it so Gray as the best friend he is does exactly that.
-The two of them have blackmail on each other, and Gray often drags Loke into watching horror movies knowing he absolutely despises him with the very core of his being.
-Gajeel will fight anyone who hurts his best friend, Juvia.
Or anyone who hurts his guild but Juvia is different since she's been with him since they joined Fairy Tail.
Natsu once grabbed a pan straight out of the oven and horrified everyone in the room.
#fairy tail#fairy tail headcanons#headcanons#fairy tail laxus dreayer#fairy tail freed#fairy tail mirajane#fairy tail lucy heartfilia#fairy tail natsu dragneel#fairy tail gray fullbuster#fairy tail gajeel redfox#fairy tail juvia lockster#fairy tail aries#fairy tail loke#fairy tail evergreen
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mile high club (hawks x reader)
it was a wednesday evening, you had just gotten off your shift at endeavour’s hero agency and was going home for the night. you sighed a breathe of exhaustion while you hung up your hero costume in your locker and got reader to go home for the night. you hear your phone ring with the text alert sound. you grab your phone and the screen luminated your face. it read, “gonna be a bit late tonight baby bird, have some errands to run.” you closed your phone and glanced down in disappointment, it was your anniversary with hawks tonight and he hasn’t done anything to show he even knew it was your anniversary today. you were hoping he’d have a big celebration planned, but from that text message, you knew tonight was going to be a night filled with wine, pajamas, and ice cream. you walked out of the hero agency and looked up to the sunset, the sky was a mix of auburn orange, pink, and celesetial purple. what a day wasted. you began to make your way home, walking down toshinora street and put your gucci airpods in. you blasted chug jug with you in your ears to drown out the pain. as you kept walking, you fazed out and lost awareness of your surroundings. as the song was starting over, you felt your body lift off of the ground and you began to fly into the air. you look around and see your boyfriend carrying you in the sky with a smirk on his face. “you really thought i wasn’t going to do something special for our anniversary baby bird?” he reaches for your chest and begins to touch you while you fly higher. “you know, your friend f/n and i were chatting and she told me what your fantasy was.” you started blushing, knowing exactly what his next words would be. “baby bird, you’re about to join the mile high club.” hawks flies you and him up past a cloud and whips out his 13 inch cock in the sky while you hover. he lifts you onto his dick and began to rail you. you moan. “ugh daddy harder!” hawks obliges and keeps fucking you harder. you couldn’t take it anymore, so you cum so hard and give up your body to him. he cums and kisses you. both your cum begins to fall onto the citizens underneath you and they look up. one of the citizens who got cummed on was deku. deku was traumatized. but you and hawks successfully joined the mile high club.
edit: IDK WHY THIS IS GAINING NOTES but just to preface this entire piece is a joke i made for my friend so yes this is satire pls don’t think this is my acc writing
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Midnight Kisses - Dick Grayson x Reader
Words: 1.3k
Requested? Yes! From the lovely @subtleappreciation and @geekandnerdworld
“Hiiii! May I request a 6 with Dick please?” and “Hey. How are you doing during this major historic moment (which nobody asked for)? Could you please write a fic with Dick from the prompts 1, 6, 12 and 29. Thanks.” (1. pick me, choose me, love me 6. you can’t kiss me all day 12. alcohol does not solve all you proble- 29. dumbass are you drunk??? )
LINK TO PROMPTS -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!
I LOVE THESE my boi Dick needs some love ;))) Thank you for the wonderful requests and I am doing alright in these wild times thank you for asking. I hope you don’t mind that I combined your requests : ) I hope you enjoy!
A Friday night meant board games and spooning, it was all you looked forward to during the week, texting your boyfriend how much you missed him and couldn’t wait to hangout during your weekends together. That was the way your life had been working, Dick was busy saving lives at night and working during the day and you were working during the day and studying at night - but both of you always cleared your Friday nights and most weekends for each other. It was a small tradition but it was reliable and showed that every week there was room in your life for Dick, and room in his for you.
Sending a quick text then heading over to his apartment. On the way over you got a call from one of Dick’s younger brother, Tim.
“Heyyyyy Y/N so, Dick got in a teensy tiny little fight with Bruce because long story short Damian tried to stab someone and they both wanted to reprimand him differently and it was a whole thing and Dick looked pretty upset when he stormed out so just a warning I know it’s your Friday night date thing”
“How did Damian get a swor- nevermind I know how. Alright, thank you for the warning Timmy I’ll be sure to be extra nice, tell Bruce he’s wrong I don’t even have to know the argument and tell Damian he and I get to have a talk”
“Will do, you’re a lifesaver Y/N!”
And the call ended as you started the walk up three stories of stairs to get to Dick’s apartment. Cursing yourself for falling for a Batboy who enters rooms using grappling hooks to dive through windows and not doors like regular humans you groaned up the stairs, not even stopping to knock you threw open the door. “Honey I’m homeeeee” you called with a giggle, scanning the kitchen and living room for your lovely boyfriend.
You heard a groan coming from his bedroom and the first sight you saw was Dick lying on his bed his lips sealed around a bottle of wine, the bottle was glugging as he swallowed drink after drink, his eyes half closed, nostrils flaring as he took deep breaths between chugs. “Oh Dick what are you doing?” you rushed to his side, pulling the bottle out of his mouth with a ‘pop!’ the red liquid spilling on him before you could turn the bottle right side up.
“Nowo Eiiim Nooot!” Dick’s slur was terrible, as much as he could pretend, he was a lightweight and you assumed the bottle of wine was not his first drink that night. Shaking his shoulder you chastisted him “Dick you dumbass are you drunk?” he smiled lazily, pulling you into his embrace. Placing sloppy kisses along your jaw he hummed as you ruffled his hair. “Rough day, more kisses” he mumbled, leaning into you as you lightly ran your fingers through his hair. “Baby talk to me, Tim called and told me a little” you whispered through his never ending kisses.
“Today is stupid. First off Dami tried to turn a kid into a skewer then Bruce thinks he should ground him! Like obviously there has to be a punishment because Damian but also we need to talk to him and explain why that’s not okay and give him alternative ways to use his anger!” Dick was exasperated, waving his hands in the air. You loved the way he looked after Damian, and after being with Dick for so long you loved Damian too, you’d been adopted into a weird half family and gained three lifelong brothers and the love of your life.
“You’re right Dick, and you’re allowed to be frustrated, but drinking can’t solve all your proble-” Dick stopped you with a long, passionate, kiss. Pulling away you shook your head at him. “You can’t just kiss me all day you drunk” Dick smirked. “Hmm I can and I will!” with one hand he pulled the covers over both of you and pulled you down under them with him. Laying down enveloped in sheets that smelled like Dick snuggled between your boyfriend’s (massive) arms was perfect. You were cupping his face in your hands, eyes boring into each others. “You’re really pretty” Dick whispered, his face just inches from yours. “Very kind of your love bird” you smiled into another kiss.
“Do you love me?” He caught you off guard, “Dickie of course I do! With my whole heart” you kissed his nose, but he still looked slightly upset. “That’s not what Wally said, he said you were using me for this gorgeous body!” Dick gestured to the grease stained shirt and loose sweatpants. “Yeah baby, real gorgeous” you winked. “You love me! No one else” he stated, opening one closed eye to check that you agreed. “You’ve gotta convince me, prove to me that you’re the best boyfriend ever!” you teased, bringing his lips onto yours again.
“Mhm okay, okay! I’ve got it” Dick squealed, springing up out of the bed. Running into his closet you sat up, giggling as he threw clothes backwards like a dramatic movie star. He came out in a black blazer that was very clearly inside out, and he stumbled towards the bed, taking both your hands in his. “My lovely Y/N, you’re the love of my life, so I beg you!” he cleared his throat, pretending to wipe away fake tears, “pick me, choose me, love me” then he gave you the cutest puppy dog eyes ever. “You win! Dear world I choose Richard Grayson as my one and only lover!” he cheered and dove back into bed with you.
“Why are you so goofy when you’re drunk” you teased Dick. With your favorite teasing grin he pulled the bottle of wine off of the side table shaking it mischievously “I drank, you drink, we drunk!” he pushed the bottle towards you making a hilarious face. “D do you really want me to be drinking with you?” he gave you a fake glare. “You drink or I do!” he said cheerfully as you took the bottle from him. “I could drink this, or we could do something else?” with two fingers you traced from his chest up to his cheek, pulling him in for a deep kiss. “Yes, this is what we should be doing!” you laughed, placing the bottle back down, taking a quick swig for courage.
“You know you’re my favorite person right angel?” Dick was drinking in the look of you in his arms. “I love you too Dickie” were the last words you said before he pulled the sheets over your head, completely focussing on you in every way for the rest of the night.
The morning after, you woke up wrapped up Dick’s arms while he snored louder than you thought was humanly possible. He was clutching you tightly to his chest, keeping you completely stuck to his side as he snored in your ear. Starting with a poke, it turned into more of a shove, and developed into a sort of cooing Dick awake. With a deep groan he squeezed you so tight you forgot what the ability to breath was before realizing you, his hands holding his head which you assumed would be pounding after last night’s endeavors.
Grabbing him some water and advil he was sitting up in bed, opening up his arms to cuddle you while he nursed a pounding head. The morning was slow, but serene and comfortable. You and Dick woke up slowly, after a shower and maybe a little throwing up, Dick was back to normal. “I’m gonna go talk to Damian now, wanna come?” Dick had gotten dressed and looked stressed. “Listen to you parent your baby brother and-or son? Absolutely.” you teased Dick, grabbing your purse.
“Have I ever told you you’re my favorite person in the entire world?” Dick quipped as he grabbed his keys.
“Uh yea, do you not remember anything from last night?” You teased.
“To be honest I really don’t”
#dick grayson#dick grayson x you#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson x y/n#damian wayne#bruce wayne#batboys#batfam#richard grayson#richard grayson x reader#nightwing#nightwing x reader#batfam x reader#batfam x you#tim drake
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Normalcy of the Pretty Posse
Chapter 2
Word Count: 3708
Pairing: ??? x reader
Description: Stupid Jeongguk and his cute sweaters and pretty posse of hyungs.
Genre: again like 90% fluff, 5% humor, and another 5% of reader literally forgetting how to function a little
(Some rambling because I have no life: here is part 2! I honestly didn’t expect any one to find part 1 so??? thank you guys so much. I’ve missed writing lately and this has been such a good outlet for me. I hope you guys like it.)
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“Hyung…” Jeongguk skids to a stop just before one of the sets of speakers. A whine leaves his mouth as he puffs out some air before tossing his bag haphazardly against a random speaker. “I messed up. Big time.” His legs, just slightly too long for the childish behavior, fold underneath him awkwardly as he flops against the dusty linoleum floor.
Hoseok looks down at his younger friend as he folds another chair and places it against the wall. “Messed up as in pissing your pants again like that one time Freshman year or getting another C on a test?” Hoseok only laughs when Jeongguk throws a pen from his pocket at him. Jeongguk’s pout settles deeper on his face as his eyebrows furrow and Hoseok knows that whatever is bothering Jeongguk is something a little more closer to the heart than pissing his pants at a frat party after chugging an entire keg upside down.
“Hyung, I’m serious.” Jeongguk closes his eyes and wraps his sweater tighter around his body as he rolls on his left side to look at Hoseok. “You know that girl that dances in the back in your Thursday workshops?”
“I’m gonna need you to be a little bit more specific, Guk. There are a lot of girls who come here.” Hoseok is only kidding, of course. He and all of Jeongguk’s hyungs know of his crush on the girl who comes every Thursday to his workshops. Jeongguk had originally only come to the workshops because Hoseok was nervous no one was going to come, but that was 2 months ago and despite the sign up list being full every week, Jeongguk still came despite being a little bit more advanced than the beginner classes he attended. Hoseok had offhandedly mentioned that Jeongguk tended to glance at the back, at a particular girl, during another one of their game nights and Jeongguk, wine drunk off of two bottles, giggled as he explained his small crush on a girl who attended Hoseok’s beginner class.
“Hobi-hyung, she’s not a beginner like have you seen her dance? She just looks so pretty and her hair is just so..” Jeongguk giggles as he wraps a finger around his hair. “...fluffy after she dances.” A small hiccup escapes him as he finishes his glass. “It’s so cute.” Jeongguk, in silent awe, squeals a little into his glass, one of the many stolen from his favorite bar, as he scrunches into a ball and bangs his knee against the table. A smile never leaves his face as he continues to giggle into the fogging glass.
Hoseok’s heart strings tug at the fond memory he has of his younger friend and decides to leave putting away the rest of the furniture to the workers who litter around him. Jeongguk lays his head against his knee when he sits next to him. “Tell Hyung what happened, Gukie. It can’t be worse than vomiting on the poor girl…..” Hoseok grimaces before giving Jeongguk a look. “You didn’t vomit on her right?”
Jeongguk shakes his head no before huffing. “I asked her friend last week if (Y/N) was okay since she hasn’t been coming and I don’t know I panicked because like what if I missed my chance to even talk to her. A-and I saw her outside and I walked over and like spoke to her?” Jeongguk knocks his head a couple of times against Hoseok’s knee as he relives the moment in his head. “I was so nervous and sounded so stupid. She probably thought I was stupid and weird for coming up to her. What kind of person asks a stranger if they plan on coming back to some stupid dance class. She probably thinks I’m a creepy ass stalker who watches her dance every week.”
Hoseok runs his hand through Jeongguk’s hair for comfort as the younger beats himself up mentally. “Are you saying my dance classes are stupid?” It’s meant to be a joke, but Jeongguk shoots his head up and sputters out incomprehensible words. “Guk, I’m kidding. I know you don’t think my classes are stupid, you’re just frustrated at yourself because your first interaction with your crush didn’t go as well as you planned.” Jeongguk flops back down against Hoseok’s thigh as he groans. Hoseok just smiles softly at him wondering how Jeongguk, handsome and all, was someone inept at talking to a simple girl.
“I may have also lied and told her that you have me here to help out with teaching.” It’s muffled against his leg, but Hoseok hears every word.
“So you chose to lie, for what?”
“I panicked! I told her that her coming helped me with the others since she’s obviously experienced. How else was I supposed to explain that I, a complete stranger, noticed she was gone for two weeks? She’ll think I’, watching her or something.”
“That’s all you ever do, Jeongguk. And besides, I didn’t even notice she was gone and I read the roster every night.”
Jeongguk smacked his hyung’s hip closest to him as he huffed. “You’re not helping Hyung! Even if you didn’t notice she wasn’t here, she probably thinks I’m a stalker now. A big stupid stalker who can’t even look her in the eyes. I’m gonna be alone forever!”
Hoseok wanted to laugh at him, but decided that he needed to play the role of the helpful caring hyung for now. He’ll let the others clown him later once he retells everything to them tonight. “Gukie, you’re not gonna be alone forever. You’re smart and stupidly handsome. I don’t think you should’ve lied to her, but it’s not life or death, so you should be able to save yourself from this. How about you let your hyung help you a little tonight? Let me work my magic.”
“You would help me?” Jeongguk throws his arms around his waist and gives a tight squeeze.. Hoseok grimaces from the too tight hug and the dust from Jeongguk’s sweater falling onto his new clothes. He ignores both in favor of giving Jeongguk’s back a few solid rubs. “You’re the best, Hobi-hyung.”
“You’re on your own after tonight though, Gukie. No more help from your one of kind, amazing, most handsome Hyung.”
“Jin-hyung isn’t here though?’
Hoseok scoffs and pushes Jeongguk off of him as he cackles from the floor. “Go open the doors you ungrateful brat.”
_______________________________________________________________________
Tonight had been… interesting to say the least.
Yoonjin had chosen to nudge me every time she thought Jeongguk had glanced in my direction resulting in a dull throb in my ribs.
“Don’t look but he’s looking again… Oh my god, I said don’t look!”
“You said that the last 4 four times and every time I look back he’s literally looking at Hoseok-shii.” I huffed and rubbed at my right side. Yoonjin has always been stronger than she looks. “Yoonjin, if you ram your boney ass elbow into my ribs one more time I will drop kick you into the wall.”
Yoonjin blinked at me before rolling her eyes. “He keeps looking away. Just trust me why don’t you! Why would I joke about this.” I rolled my eyes and refocused on Hoseok as he explained some of the footwork again. House dance had never been my speciality.
“I don’t know, maybe you like to see me suffer.”
“I’m literally trying to help you get a man.”
“No, you’re trying to break my ribs.”
9 o’clock rolled around sooner than I expected as Hoseok wrapped up his lesson. Many of the students who endured the class in its entirety were shuffling to the walls of the room where their water bottles had long ago since turned lukewarm. Hoseok was not one for lots of water breaks. Used to long durations of exercising and cardio, I had chosen to hang back and stretch out while Yoonjin made small talk with the others around her. I held in my laugh as she shot me a look or two of ‘what the fuck is going on’ and ‘please help me’ while talking to the animated girl with sweat drenched pink ponytails. Figuring that whatever kind of conversation she was wrapped up in was payback enough for the bruising I was sure to have on my ribs for the next week, I chose to let her suffer.
“You know I think you’d do a lot better in a higher level class.” There stood Jung Hoseok in all his beautiful glory as I attempted to straighten my legs from their lunge. I tried to blame the jittery feeling settling in as adrenaline from the cardio, but I knew my body was just buzzing from having him stand so close. Did he even sweat? How did he manage to smell like fucking flowers after dancing? Damn Jeongguk and his pretty posse.
“Uh sorry?”
Jung Hoseok smiled and offered a hand to me. I smiled back, although less brightly, and hoped my hands were not as sweaty as the rest of my body. “I just meant that you seem a little more experienced than what this class has to offer. It’s a shame to see talent be wasted on some basic combinations.” His eyes took a quick over my body and I flushed at movement. If he looks at me like that more time, I will be internally combusting.
“I-uh used to dance growing up.” My hands gripped my shirt as Hoseok proceeded to make eye contact. Does he have to be so nice and beautifully intimidating? A deadly combo for my poor nerves. Do I look away? Is it rude to keep eye contact? Would a wink be appropriate for a first conversation?
“How long did you take lessons?”
“Like 14 years maybe? My mom tried to put me in baseball like my brothers when I was 4, but after I started spitting and grabbing my pants before I batted she decided it probably wasn’t a good influence to be surrounded by all boys at home and during practice.” My lips pressed together as I pinched my face in horror. Oh god, why did I say that? Hoseok on the other hand was having a jolly good time as dropped his jaw and choked in a fit of laughter and I screwed my face shut in embarrassment. “I don’t know why I said that. Oh my god, please forget I just said that! I’m just nervous and I say stupid things when I’m nervous. I’m an idiot and I just don’t know how to shut up sometimes.”
Hoseok continued to laugh as I covered my overheating face with my hands wishing I had grabbed Yoonjin and left before we both got wrapped in unwanted conversations. “Y-you’re too cute. Oh god, I can totally see it!” Hoseok laughed for a few more breaths before settling down into giggles.
“Hyung...? Is everything okay?” Jeongguk shuffled over with both his and Hoseok’s bags as he glanced between Hoseok and I.
Hoseok giggled a few more times before accepting his bag from Jeongguk. “I was just just asking if...” Hoseok titled his head before looking back at me. “I forgot to ask for your name actually, I’m sorry.”
Not used to having 2 out of 7 members of Jeongguk’s Pretty Posse’s attention on me made me flush even warmer. “No worries, I’m (Y/N).”
Hoseok smiled at me before swinging his bag on his shoulder and went back to addressing Jeongguk. “I was just complimenting (Y/N) on her dancing. We could do with another dancer on the team don’t you think Jeongguk?”
“We could?” Jeongguk bugged his eyes out a little at his hyung before throwing a confused look his way.
Hoseok raised his eyebrows and tiled forward a little bit. “Of course, we could Gukie! Remember we had that talk earlier about adding a new member? Junhoo graduated last semester, so we don’t have anyone to fill his spot.” Jeongguk stared at Hoseok wondering who the hell Junhoo was and when this conversation happened. Hoseok starred a little harder before-Oh! “How about you let your hyung help you a little tonight.”
“Yes! You’re totally right Hobi-hyung! (Y/N), you would love our dance team! You’d fit right in too!” Jeongguk bounced on his heels a little as he turned to me. Back on was the sweater he had been wearing earlier. Damn. The sweater paws have returned too.
“Isn’t it all guys? How would that even work? I’m literally like half Jeongguk’s size.” My glance danced between Hoseok and Jeongguk as I bit my lip.
“Where there is a will, there is a way (Y/N). And I’m sure you won’t pick up any bad habits this time (Y/N). We’re all mannered and hygienic, so no worries!” My jaw dropped as Hoseok poked fun at my previous story and raised his eyebrows at me. That little-
I scoffed and stomped my foot to turn his direction fully. “I wasn’t even talking about that! I can’t believe you! I let one thing slip and you use it against me!” I jutted my lips out in a slight pout as I crossed my arms.
Jeongguk deflated a little as he watched Hoseok’s teasing glance and my pouting. “Am I missing something?”
“No!”
“Yes!”
My finger found a place on his chest as I leaned closer. Are those pecs…? “Jung Hoseok, you keep your mouth shut!” Those are definitely pecs.
“I will if you join our team.”
My mouth fell open as I removed my finger with an inaudible gasp. “I see you play dirty, Jung.” I tsked at him before turning to Jeongguk. “Get your hyung before he embarrasses me more and I combust.” Jeongguk blinks as I give him my sole focus and nods softly, most likely lost on what’s happening.
“So if that is a yes?”
Defeatedly, I face Hoseok and shrug my shoulders as I grab my bag from Yoonjin as she approaches. “You’re in luck. I was actually looking to join something a little more advanced dance wise. My body misses dancing despite how old it makes my bones feel.”
“So.. is that a yes?” Jeongguk reiterates as he bounces forward a little, eyes wide as his hair flops a little. I smile a little as my heart flops along with his hair. I give Hoseok a quick glance and will the oxygen to return to my lungs and brain at the focussed look he gives me.
“It’s a no.” My heart sinks at Jeongguk’s sudden smile. “Not that I wouldn’t join; I totally would! It’s just I have to find a music production mentor for my Music Composition and Engineering class and I’m basically meeting with strangers every other day until one decides to take me under their wing. I really need this class to graduate and I can’t afford any breaks until I find someone.” My hands are flying everywhere as I try to make my rejection lighter on Jeongguk.
Jeongguk nods a little and licks his lips as he gives Hoseok a quick glance. Hoseok seems to understand whatever is going on in his head and tilts his head toward him with a hard look as a warning to think before you speak, you love sick idiot. Jeongguk, with a heart often bigger than his brain, ignores his hyung and blurts out, “Yoongi-hyung is a music producer! I can introduce you to him and see if he’d be willing to mentor you.”
Hoseok closes his eyes and drops his head forward into his hands. Dammit Jeongguk.
I blink a few times before trying to stop my smile from spreading. “Are you sure? I mean I’d really appreciate it of course, but I know it might be a lot to ask. I’m also a total stranger, so you don’t have to at all!” My mouth suddenly feels dry as I lick my lips. “It would be really great though! Some of the guys I meet are total creeps and I don’t know how many coffees I drink everyday while one of them tries to feel me up.” I force a laugh to lessen my discomfort and hope it comes across as less awkward than I feel.
Jeongguk looks to Hoseok after I’m done exhausting my voice and they seem to share a meaningful look before Hoseok reaches into his pocket. “Here, give me your number. Jeongguk and I will talk to Yoongi-hyung and see what we can do. He might be willing to meet with you and see if you guys ‘vibe.’”
My eyes flick up to meet his as I smother another smile. My attempts fail and I grab his phone and giddily put in my number. “You guys are the best! I promise to join you guys if I can resolve this whole mess.” My grin widens as I think about not having to stifle through conversation after conversation every other day in some overpriced cafe with another self employed music producer as they critique every layer of my pieces. “Do guys like cookies? I’m totally baking you guys some cookies as thanks!”
“Are you ready to go (Y/N)?”
“Yoonjin! We’re going to be baking cookies for Hoseok and Jeongguk!” Yoonjin furrows her eyebrows as she loops her eyebrows with mine.
“We are?”
“We are! Is chocolate chip okay?” I offer her no other explanation as I ask Jeongguk with a sweet smile. These pretty boys were coming in handy and so were my depressive episodes’ baking habits.
“Chocolate-chip sounds great.” Jeongguk licks his lips as he feels his heart rate border an unhealthy pace. “Hyung, we-uh should probably head out and go pick up your package.”
“My package?” Hoseok finishes adding a baseball bat and a flower emoji to his new contact before catching the look Jeongguk is sending him. “Oh! Yeah, uh, I’ll have Jeongguk text you about Yoongi-hyung. It was nice meeting you (Y/N), get home safely!”
Yoonjin and I watch them both leave the room before facing each other.
“What the fuck was that?”
“I honestly have no fucking clue, but I think I’m gonna die. Please check my pulse.” Yoonjin feels at my neck and sighs.
“Nope, still alive. Maybe next time though.”
I re-loop our arms and pull her out of the emptying room. “Come on we have to go get Chaebin from the library before she has another aneurysm over her homework. I’ll fill you in on the way there.”
Yoonjin shrugs and follows along. “I hope you know that if this progresses into some dramatic fated love story I will be living vicariously through you.”
“I expect nothing less.”
#bts#bts fluff#bts university au#bts x y/n#bts x reader#jungguk x reader#jungkook x reader#jhope x reader#jhope x y/n#jhope fluff#min yoongi#yoongi x reader#suga fluff#suga x reader#bts ot7 x reader#bts ot7#ot7 x reader#ot7#i am crying#i am so tired#please save me i wrote that at 1am like weeks at 1 am#bts fanfction#bts fic#uh#love you all#i guess now is not the time for confessions though#good night#see you when my professors decide im human to enough to not throw a 7 hour assignment at me#lmao kms#jeongguk
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Can u write something about soudam wedding?
I’m sorry this took like 3 weeks to answer, but here you go: 4.3k word worth of Soudam wedding ramblings.
(This is for a western style wedding by the way)
Wedding Planning
Neither of them know what they’re doing, cus neither of them ever really spent much time thinking about weddings growing up, much less their own weddings lol
So one day, after they’re engaged, they’re just hanging out with some friends. They’re on a couch, Soda’s laying with his head in Gundham’s lap, just vibing, then their friends start asking about what they have planned. They both kind of look at each other and shrug, cus they have planned literally nothing, they just know they kind of want to get married on their anniversary, but that’s really all they’ve got lol.
Sonia like presses them for ideas cus they must have at least some idea of what they want, right?
Soda looks up at Gundham and is like ‘probably lots of black stuff, yeah?’
Gundham nods and looks down at him ‘perhaps with vibrant accents in your preferred colors as well?’
Soda’s like ‘Oooh and we could have like an animal theme maybe?? OH! OR A ROBOT ANIMAL THEME????’ and Gundhams just like ‘whatever makes you happy’ and they throw out a couple more terrible ideas while Sonia silently suffers lol.
Eventually they’re laughing at their own stupid ideas and Sonia is just glad they actually realize their ideas were dumb and they didn’t seriously want a goth robot hamster ice sculpture lol. They admit they don’t super care how it all goes down, they both just want to get married and have fun with all their friends at the reception.
Sonia offers to take care of the planning and stuff with her team of professionals (Yes she has a team on wedding planners okay, she’s the kind of person who has been planning her wedding since she was 9 and also she’s a princess so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯). She seems really excited and Soda and Gundham really don’t know what they’re doing so they agree to let her handle it as long as they get the final say on things. She immediately starts rambling about all her ideas and Soda and Gundham just kind of chuckle and smile at each other.
Suit shopping
Fuyuhiko takes them suit shopping. They go together, they aren’t too concerned about keeping their outfits a secret from each other and they figure it’ll be fun to watch each other try on all kind of different things. Sonia comes too of course.
They start kind of idlily browsing sample suits (they’re getting custom suits made, Fuyuhiko wouldn’t hear otherwise) and Sonia asks what kind of suits they’d like to see each other in. They both stop and look at each other, and Fuyu rolls his eyes cus they’re just blatantly checking each other out lol.
Eventually Soda shrugs and is like “I don’t really care. As long as I get to see Gundham looking hot as hell in a tux I’m good with whatever” and Gundham kind of tilts his head and is like “So you would prefer me to wear a tuxedo?” Soda is dumb as hell and doesn’t realize Gundham is not using ‘tuxedo’ as a synonym for ‘suit’ like he was, so he gets super blushy and is like “Oh. I-I mean if you were thinking about a dress instead that’s cool too.” And Gundham’s eyes just widen a bit because he was not thinking about wearing a dress but now he’s thinking about Soda in a big, white, full skirted wedding dress. Soda is picturing Gundham in something a little more fitted with a high slit. They’re both just blushing and staring at each other until Fuyu clears his throat and tells Soda that a tuxedo is a type of suit, and he’s pretty sure that’s what Gundham meant. Soda just hides his face in his hands and apologizes. Gundham comes over to kiss his forehead and tell him it’s okay, and eventually they get back to looking at suits lol
Gundham’s done pretty quick. He does end up picking a tuxedo, and I’m not great at fashion but Just picture something black, very gothic, and a tiny bit extra haha. Soda super excited to see it once it’s done being made, cus Gundham already looked amazing in the sample suit. He maybe gets a little emotional looking at his fiancé all dressed up knowing it’s for their wedding, but nobody says anything and Gundham just smiles at him softly.
Soda has a lot more trouble. He doesn’t want to ruin their wedding by wearing something tacky so he’s trying to stick to traditional black. But every time he comes out and looks at himself in the full length mirror he can’t help but feel uncomfortable. He doesn’t look like himself, he thinks he looks like some kid borrowing his dad’s suit for prom.
He’s on like the 12th sample suit, he’s trying all kinds of styles and different lapels and undershirts/vest combos but he still just feels like trash in all of them. This suit fits him like a glove, accentuates all of his best features, and he honestly looks so good in it. Sonia and Fuyuhiko are telling him as much, along with whatever staff are around.
But Soda still doesn’t feel like himself. And Gundham can tell.
Gundham comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist and they both just look at themselves in the mirror for a moment. Gundham makes a point of frowning as he looks at the suit and Soda laughs at how obviously exaggerated it is. It’s the first time he’s genuinely smiled in at least an hour.
“What’s wrong, babe? Don’t like it?”
“Hmm… perhaps if it was yellow… maybe blue?”
Soda laughs but he feels a little self conscious. He really doesn’t want to make their wedding tacky, but he just doesn’t feel right in such… boring colors. He tells Gundham as much. Gundham hums and kisses his cheek, still holding him from behind, and asks to see color samples for the suits materials while Soda insists he’ll be fine and he’ll just get used to the black.
Someone brings Gundham a collection of cloth samples, and he finally separates from his fiancé to stand in front of him and hold them up, one by one. Soda is insisting black is fine the whole time. Eventually Gundham stops, holding up a sort of deep red, and tilts his head. Soda looks at the color; he likes it, but he’s still worried it would be kind of tacky. Gundham asks for someone to bring him a jacket in that color.
He puts it on Soda and grabs a black suit jacket and a red tie for himself, before standing next to Soda and linking their arms. Soda looks in the mirror and, hey, that’s not too bad, the red actually looks pretty classy, and paired up with Gundham’s tie it looks…
He starts crying, but it’s mostly relief and happiness. Fuyu laughs at him but tells him he looks good and Sonia just smiles while Gundham pulls him into a hug. They order the 12th suit in red, and every time Soda tries t apologize for being so difficult Gundham just shuts him up with a kiss lol.
Wedding Traditions and Stuff
They start talking about wedding traditions one day after having a conversation with Sonia about how the wedding plans are going. The first thing that comes up is the whole ‘bride walking down the aisle’ thing since, obviously, there isn’t gonna be a bride. Gundham suggests they both just walk out together, but Soda kind of wants that moment where he’s standing at the alter and gets to watch Gundham walk down the aisle towards him. Gundham just smiles and kisses him and says he’s like that too.
Soda suggests they take dance lessons or something so they can have a cool first dance. Gundham says they can if he really wants to, but he would rather just be able to hold Soda close and sway to the music without having to worry about memorized steps. Soda blushes and agrees, he mostly suggested it cus he thought Gundham would like it anyways.
Neither of them really care about name changes. They both offer to change theirs, but in the end they just decide to keep their own names.
Sonia (jokingly) mentions being disappointed because there won’t be a bouquet toss, and Chiaki (also jokingly) responds that Gundham should just toss a single rose into the crowd like tuxedo mask. He agrees to do it (not jokingly)
They both write their own stupid sappy vows, it’s not even something they have to discuss.
Hajime is Soda’s best man, Sonia is Gundham’s. She insists on being called ‘best man’ instead of ‘maid of honor’ or ‘best woman’ because she likes the way it sounds lol.
They pick a very classic décor theme, but add in a lot of black accents for the aesthetic✨
They decide to do that thing where they spend the night before the wedding apart and don’t see each other again until the actual ceremony.
Bachelor Party
Soda wasn’t planning on having his own bachelor party, he figured they could just have like a joint bachelor party at their house or something because he loves his fiancé and prefers to party with him lol. But then Fuyuhiko, Hajime, and Nekomaru are carrying him out the front door while Gundham casually waves and tells him to have fun lol (They absolutely got Gundham’s permission before kidnapping his man haha).
(Gundham invites Sonia over for wine and calls it his bachelor party. They watch the bachelor and laugh about how funny they are.)
Soda is thrown in the back seat of one of Fuyu’s fancy cars with blacked out windows and yells at his friends for like the whole trip while they just laugh at him lol. They eventually get to a bar and Soda is just super relieved it’s not a strip club, Hajime tells him it’s cus Gundham wouldn’t let him, but Fuyu and Nekomaru insist it’s cus they have more class than that. (Whose lying? You choose lol).
They get a table and a round of shots as soon as they get inside. It’s actually pretty laid back as far as bachelor parties go, they mostly just sit and talk, and get Soda gushing about his soon to be husband lol. At one point, after a couple drinks, they do like a chugging contest for the first time since they graduated uni and Soda wins. Fuyu is just like ‘wtf when did you get so good at this?” and Soda is like “Well, thanks to Gundham I’ve gotten really good at swallowing” and everybody just fucking groans while he loses his mind laughing lol
As the night goes on Soda just gets sappier and sappier and starts complaining about how much he misses his boyfriend. Nekomaru pats him on the back and is like ‘he isn’t even your boyfriend anymore, he’s your fiancé’ and Soda just light up like ‘yeah… I’m so lucky…’ before he stops and his eyes go wide. The other guys kind of look at each other, confused, before Hajime’s like ‘uh, you good dude?’ and Soda’s just like ‘oh my god, he’s my fiancé! We’re gonna get fucking married next week!! Holy shit that means he’s gonna be my husband! I have to tell him!’ and the guys just laugh while he dials Gundham.
Gundham is surprised to get a call from Soda and gets a little worried, so he answers like ‘is everything alright, my paramour?’ and Soda is just like ‘Holy shit Gundham! Did you realize we’re gonna be husbands??!?’ and Gundham just laughs and relaxes while telling Soda that, yes, he did realize they were going to be husbands lol
Soda just rambles away on the phone about how excited he is to marry Gundham and how he promises to be a good husband and how much he loves him. The other guys roll their eyes and decide it’s probably time to call it a night lol.
When Soda gets home he immediately attaches himself to Gundham and tells him how much he missed him lol. Gundham just pets his hair and gets them both ready for bed as he asks if Soda enjoyed his bachelor party. He says his favorite part was when his fiancé kissed him good night, and Gundham just rolls his eyes and does it haha
The Wedding
Soda is super nervous the night before (not in a ‘I’m not ready for this’ way, he’s just excited and scared he’s gonna say/do something dumb or that something terrible is gonna happen and ruin the whole thing) and he ends up calling Gundham from his hotel room at like midnight and talking about all his worries (“What if I say ‘I don’t’ by accident and we have to do the whole wedding again?” “What if I have to pee in the middle of our vows?” “What if we get to the ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ part and like, Nekomaru suddenly decides he’s in love with you? There’s no way I could take him in a fight!”). Gundham smiles as he reassures Soda that whatever happens, they’ll get through it, and that he doesn’t really care what happens, as long as he gets to call Soda his husband by the end of the day.
They fall asleep telling each other how excited they are.
In the morning their respective best men wake them and help them get ready. Gundham styles his hair up and Soda puts his in a low ponytail, and they both put on their fancy new custom suits (They both got ties to match each other’s suits too haha). They’re both a little nervous but Hajime and Sonia are ready with all kinds of compliments and reassurances, and they get both grooms out their doors and on the road right on time.
Gundham gets to the venue first, and he’s a little taken aback by how good it looks. Sonia gushes about all the little details while Gundham just half listens and thanks her. He’s looking at the flower arrangements sitting in classy black vases, the chairs covered in white cloth held in place with black ribbon, and noticing all kinds of subtly gothic touches Sonia added to the décor. Soda may have been worried about making the wedding tacky with his suit, but Gundham had been worried about making it tacky with shitty gothic decorations. He’s amazed with how well Sonia managed to pull it off. He grabs both her hands and sincerely tells her that he loves her and that she is, and always will be, his dearest friend. They both get a little teary and hug it out haha.
Then Hajime ruins it by kicking in the front door and saying something like ‘Gundham you look hot as fuck, but get out of my sight right now so I can bring your stupid ass fiancé in. Also, hey Sonia, great job decorating.’ Lol
Sonia and Gundham head off into a little room to wait for the ceremony to start, and Hajime heads back out to get Soda. When Soda gets inside he’s just as impressed by the décor as Gundham was. He thinks it’s all very Gundham and he loves it. Hajime tells him he tried to get Sonia to throw in some hot pink roses for Soda and Soda is just like ‘thank god Sonia didn’t listen to you.’ Lol
Soda just heads right into the main hall, just taking in all the amazing décor until his eyes land on the wedding arch. He stares at it and it just really hit him that this is happening. He’s about to marry the love of his life. He’s about to be able to call Gundham his husband. He’s about to be Gundham’s husband. He starts tearing up and Hajime pats him on the back, smiling ‘Come on, ya big sap, lets get you married’
Hajime gets Soda up to the front to take his place under the arch and Sonia comes out to see how things are going. Everything is pretty much ready and the officiant is ready to go, so Sonia heads back to Gundham’s room and the officiant signals everyone to take their seats so they can get things started. Soda’s regained his composure in the tie it took everyone to settle down, and Hajime gives him one last pat on the back before he takes his place to the side and the music starts.
Soda looks up as the door opens and he sears the image into his mind immediately.
Gundham looks amazing, he always does, but there’s just something extra to it in that moment. He’s glowing, Soda decides, and as their eyes lock he feels himself tearing up again. It only gets worse as Gundham gets closer, it’s not long before he’s full on crying. He’s jut so overwhelmed with love and happiness, and he almost wants to sip all the vows and wedding rites and just be married already.
Gundham’s not doing much better. He’s vaguely aware of their friends and family waving to him and complimenting him or congratulating him as he passes, but he’s way too focused on Soda to really care. He looks so handsome in his deep red suit with his hair tied back, and he’s frozen, clutching his hands in front of him nervously the way he had been when Gundham entered. Gundham want’s to run to him, sweep him off his feet and just declare them married himself, but he manages to hold himself back. He doesn’t hold back his tears nearly as well though, and a few roll down his cheeks before he makes it to the altar.
When Gundham gets to Soda he immediately pulls him into a tight hug, Soda wrapping his arms around him just as quickly, and then they’re both laughing through their tears. Gundham gently strokes Soda’s hair, careful not to mess it up, and kisses his forehead. Sonia scoffs to let Gundham know he’s on thin ice for that, she’s very into wedding traditions, but lets it slide since it technically isn’t a real kiss lol.
They eventually pull themselves away from each other a bit and try to wipe away each other’s tears at the same time. It’s a little awkward but they’re happy and don’t care, they just keep staring at each other as they finally step back, still holding hands, and signal to the officiant that they’re ready to start.
Soda says his vows first, it’s on purpose, he wanted to go first cus he knew he would be too busy crying after Gundham’s vows haha. He’s like shaking really hard when he starts, cus he hates public speaking and he’s embarrassed to be so sappy in front of all their friends, but as he talks he watches Gundham light up and it just gets easier and easier, until he’s only shaking from the effort it’s taking not to kiss his groom.
Everyone is expecting Gundham’s vows to be long winded and extra extra, but to their surprise they’re pretty straight forward. Gundham explains, as part of his vows, that he doesn’t need extravagant metaphors to express his love and he wants to speak plainly and clearly, in hopes of expressing how clear his feelings for Soda are (he said he doesn’t need metaphors, nut technically the whole thing is a metaphor lol). Soda is in fact crying well before he finishes, and the only things that stop them from kissing once Gundham stops talking are a stern cough from Sonia and a disapproving tut from Hajime lol
The officiant does their thing, Soda and Gundham requested a shortened version of the usual spiel cus they didn’t want to have to stand through a stupidly long ceremony, but even that feels way too long to them haha. When they get to the ‘speak now or forever hold you peace’ part, Gundham raises a non-existent brow at Soda before gazing pointedly at Nekomaru for a second. Soda snorts and laughs and nobody else gets it, but no one speaks up either haha
Gundham is the first to say ‘I do’, then Soda nearly cuts the officiant off with his own ‘I do’ before they can even finish the question haha. The officiant basically steps out of the way while saying ;you may now kiss cus they can tell these two have no patience lol.
They both lean in before the officiant even finishes speaking. Their lips meet and Soda wraps his arms around Gundham’s neck while Gundham pulls him in by his waist. Their friends are cheering and clapping and both of them are crying again.
They both smile and laugh as they part and make their way back down the aisle, thanking all their friends and family, before heading outside to get some photos taken.
Photos take literal hours (wedding party, friends, family, just them, each of them separate, each of them separate with friends, separate with family, now each individual family member with both of them and each of them separately, etc, etc), and they’re both pretty tired by the end of it. They end up heading back to Gundham’s little waiting room to take a nap together.
Sonia sends Mahiru in to get a picture of them cuddled together on the little couch. Both of them have their suit jackets off, their ties loose, and a couple shirt buttons undone. Soda is lying between Gundham’s legs, head resting sideways on his chest and drooling a little. Gundham as his arms wrapped around Soda’s back and his cheek is pressed against his hair. One of Gundham’s legs is dangling off the front of the too narrow couch, along with one of Soda’s arms.
Despite how sloppy they both look, it’s one of their favorite pictures from their wedding day.
The Reception
When Soda and Gundham wake up from their nap like an hour later, they spend like a solid 20 minutes just tenderly making out being all ‘hey you’re my husband now and I’m gonna keep saying the word husband until we’re both sick of it’ haha (neither of them get sick of it). Eventually Sonia and Hajime come get them, Hajime makes a comment like ‘haha save something for your wedding night guys’ and Sonia is just bluntly like ‘yeah, you two will have plenty of time to fuck later’ lol
They all grab something to eat before the reception because Soda and Gundham have barely eaten anything all day.
Their first dance is literally just them holding each other and kissing and swaying to the music, and Soda is so glad Gundham didn’t want to take dance lessons cus he doesn’t want to do anything but hold and kiss his husband in that moment. After the first dance the champagne starts flowing freely and formal atmosphere dissolves pretty quickly lol
Gundham and Soda have both ditched their jackets and are alternating between chatting and laughing with their friends and rocking out on the dance floor (they’re terrible dancers but it’s their wedding and no one is allowed to judge them lol). They’re both kind of acting like they’re drunk but they haven’t actually had that much to drink, they’re just stupid happy. They keep sneaking off to make out, only for Hajime or Sonia to drag them back lol
By the mid night Gundham has lost his tie (They threw it on the ground during one of their make outs and both of them forgot lol) and Soda has some fresh hickies on his neck, and Sonia and Hajime decide they’ve fulfilled their socialization quota and finally release them lol. They thought about getting a hotel room, but they both agreed they would rather just spend their first night as a married couple in their own bed.
The Wedding Night 👀
(suggestive but not explicit)
They start making out the second they get in the limo (courtesy of the Kuzuryu family) to take them home. They can’t keep their hands off each other, but they manage to keep their clothes on for now haha.
Once they make it home they’re stumbling over each other to get to the door, but then Soda freezes when they get it unlocked and Gundham is just like ??? Soda looks at him wide eyed and is just like ‘I want to do the thing’ and before Gundham can figure out what he means, Soda literally sweeps him off his feet and carries him bridal style into their home. Gundham just laughs and lets it happen.
Soda throws Gundham onto the bed and jumps on top of him, resuming their earlier make outs for bit before Gundham pushes him back. Its Soda’s turn to be like ??? but Gundham just says he has a surprise for him and heads off to the bathroom.
Soda is 100% expecting lingerie, but when Gundham steps out in a lacy white baby doll with matching white panties and stockings he nearly dies from joy.
Gundham says he noticed the way Soda had reacted to the idea of him in a wedding dress during their suit fitting and went out to buy this outfit pretty much right after. Maybe it wasn’t quite a wedding dress, but it definitely had a bridal feeling to it.
Once some of Soda’s blood makes it back up to his brain, he smirks and points out that Gundham doesn’t really qualify for the whole wearing white on your wedding day thing’ and Gundham’s like ‘hmm, really? Better make sure, just in case’
It’s all really tender, filled with reverent kisses and I love you’s and a couple of happy tears, and by the end of it both of them are completely naked and cuddled up, smiling as they look at the new matching gold rings adorning their fingers.
They both fall asleep thinking about how excited they are to spend the rest of their lives together.
#Soudam#Soudam wedding#replies#anon#Soudam ramblings#I wrote this in bits and pieces over a few days so I'm sorry if theres inconsistencies#this is longer than all my fics except 'Aid' jesus#I didn't even mention everything#why do I do this to myself#I could have just done the wedding but nooo#brain said I had to talk about all the lead up too#oh well it was fun#hope yall enjoy my suffering#fluff
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a/n: what’s up everyone? i’m new in town because i found one stupid hockey boy which led me to another and you know how it goes. let me know if you want me to continue writing!
warnings: some swearing, a little bit of drinking.
Your feet were killing you, and you’d definitely had a couple more than you set out to have when the night started, but it was New Year’s Eve, you told yourself. It was the kind of night you could have a little too much. You rocked a little forward on your heels, trying to relieve some of the pressure on the arches of your feet, but it threw you off balance. Luckily, Mat was there with a steady arm to keep you to your feet. You could’ve done without the chirping that immediately followed the incident.
“You know, you could just take the shoes off if they’re bothering you that much,” he said, with a laugh edging at each word as he spoke.
“I’ve definitely explained this to you before,” you sighed. “You look at the shoe, you look at your feet, you tell yourself that your shoes and your feet are married tonight and nothing in the world will separate you. You can’t get divorced after two hours, would look bad for my next husband.”
“You are more committed to those shoes than you were with your last boyfriend,” Mat retorts, never the one to stop the banter first.
“He couldn’t support me like these babies can.” You point your toes and jut one foot out for emphasis, “He didn’t make my legs look this killer either.”
Mat rolled his eyes at you and laughed, a constant combination in your friendship that had become one of the most crucial in your life this past year. You’d met him towards the beginning of the year, and you got along instantly due to your identical senses of humor. Your friendship solidified with his willingness to try practically every restaurant in New York City with you and the fact that you always let him be the DJ whenever you were together. You tried to go through the timeline of your friendship, trying to find the moment something shifted and he stopped being your friend Mat and started being the reason you said no to dates with other guys when they approached you and why you refused to let any of you other friends set you up with anyone. You glanced over at the clock to distract yourself from your thoughts, 11:50pm. Ten minutes to midnight.
“Hey, I was just thinking about the day we met,” Mat told you, a smile on his face carrying over to yours as you remembered the first time you met him.
Ten.
- Months ago, you were at a party pretty similar to this where everyone was a little less dressed up and the alcohol was a lot worse. You were standing with two of your friends, debating on if you wanted to stay longer or head out to the bars when a ping pong ball landed in your cup.
“Hey! My buddy needs a partner for pong. Can you play? Doesn’t matter if you’re shit; he’s probably worse.”
You shrugged, said, “Why not?” and stepped up to the table next to him. You set your cup down on the table and turned to your new partner for the evening, “If I have to carry this team, now’s the time to let me know that you’re dead weight.”
His face was a little taken aback for a second, but then a wide smile formed across his face. He nodded softly.
“I like you,” he said. “You’re right, I am totally about to be dead weight. My name’s Mat by the way.”
You introduced yourself to him and proceeded to win the next two rounds of beer pong with Mat making three cups the entire time. You made fun of his accent. He pretended to be upset that you got away with breaking the elbows rule because you had boobs and they distracted Tito, but the distraction was to his advantage so he said he’d let the rule breaking slide as long as you promised to be his pong partner for the night. You agreed to take him on as charity case for the night if he tried a Thai-Greek fusion brunch with you tomorrow morning that none of your other friends we’re willing to go it. He took the deal and your friendship began.
Nine.
“– seasons of How I Met Your Mother? Jesus, is this even going to be worth it?” Mat complained
“Get the popcorn, sit down, and shut up,” you told him. “I cannot believe you haven’t seen this before. It’s a classic.
“Friends is a classic,” he sighs as he sits down on the couch, dropping the popcorn bowl between you. “This is a cheap imitation. Besides, I thought you would hate this. Isn’t Barney like very anti your whole super feminist thing or something and doesn’t Ted just suck?”
“If you don’t realize you have to take everything in this world with a grain of salt yet, then you are beyond help, Barzy.”
You binged it in under three weeks. While you’d lived the last episode premiering live with your family, you didn’t think you’d ever seen anyone as pissed off at the ending of the show than Mat was. Your sides hurt from laughing so much at his insane ranting about how they could have possibly done that to him, with all of the time he invested in this show. He took it personally and swore he’d never watch another episode again. You still couldn’t bring it up without making him start a whole diatribe. It was your party trick together even though Mat wasn’t quite in on the joke.
Eight.
- Days in Spain in June. Mat insisted on you joining him on his post season tour of Europe. By tour he meant never leaving Spain but going on a lot of wine tours and pretending he knew a lot about wine even though he couldn’t tell the difference between a three-hundred-dollar bottle of age merlot and a bottle of Barefoot if his life depended on it.
“Oh, isn’t this a fabulous red vintage?” Mat said to you, doing an impossibly bad British accent in an attempt to sound fancy. “I can taste floral,” he sipped the wine again, smacking his tongue against his lips loudly, “and citrus notes in this one. You’ll quite like it, madam.”
“You’re gonna get us kicked out,” you sang softly to him as you noticed the daggers he was getting from your tour guide.
Mat slung his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in tight to him. You could feel his muscles tense under his thin t-shirt, and your breath caught in your throat. Some part of you had known he was attractive this whole time; you’d just never been forced to pay attention until this exact moment when you were pressed up against him. You pushed the thoughts to a far corner of your mind. This was your friend Mat and you didn’t need anything more than that from him. You didn’t want it, you told yourself.
Seven.
- Seconds left on the clock. You were pretty sure you hadn’t breathed for the last 5 minutes of the game and you were gripping your seat so hard that your knuckles were starting to go numb. The Islanders were down by one going into the last two minutes against Tampa Bay. Tito had scored to create a 3-3 game with just over a minute on the clock to play. You didn’t want this to go into overtime and neither did the guys. They wanted to complete the comeback win here and now.
You watched as Mat shifted the puck side to side on the ice. You saw him glance up at the clock for a brief second, then he looked back towards the net and he saw his shot. He took it without any hesitation. You were on your feet before the puck hit the back of the net. Mat was immediately engulfed by his teammates, swallowed up in a sea of blue and orange jerseys. His games practically gave you a heart attack, but you’d never turn him down if he asked you to come and he asked you to come a lot.
“Hey there, superstar,” you said, the smile in your voice obvious as you met Mat in the tunnel after he’d finished up his interviews and changed.
“Hey there,” he laughed, giving your shoulder a little shove
You looked around as you walked out with him. He was walking you through that final shot, second by second, but you couldn’t focus on his story. You saw the girlfriends, fiancées, and wives of the other players greeting their respective partners and for a split second you let yourself imagine that with Mat. You hadn’t really thought about it before, but as soon as let that wall down and the flood gates opened, and your feelings for Mat hit you square in the stomach. You wanted to be like them, have what they have, and for a split second, you let yourself want that with him. You wanted him to look at you like the other guys looked at their girlfriends and wives.
“Um, hello?” Mat’s large hang waving in front of your face pulled you out of your moment.
“Oh, sorry. Can you start over? I got a little sidetracked.”
“You okay?” he asked, concern coating the words and his brows furrowing.
“Super-duper, superstar. Try me again.”
Six.
“-Entrées is way too many. Look, I know you’re practically a championship level competitive eater for fun, but this feels like an exercise of your skills we don’t need to practice.”
“Two things. One, calling pancakes an entrée is a little much. It’s just pancakes,” you retorted, “and two, they serve six different kinds of pancakes here, so I’m getting six kinds of pancakes. Join me or get the hell out.”
Mat’s nose scrunched up as he laughed at your response. God, you loved his laugh. You loved it most when you were responsible for it, not the girl he met at the bar last night who was definitely responsible for the marks peeking out from under his shirt. Seeing those when he sat down made you felt like all the air had left the room. You shrugged off your thoughts as best as you could. Mat wasn’t yours to be possessive of, but that didn’t make the pit in your stomach settle either. You took a sip of your orange juice as Mat’s laughter slowed.
“God, how do I still think you’re cool even though that was super lame?” he asked you, stealing your water since his hungover self practically chugged his when he arrived
“Barzy, some things in the world are magical and they’re better left unexplored and unexplained.”
“Like all women,” he said proudly, like he’d discovered something profound.
You rolled your eyes at him. Even when he was an idiot, you still wished he was your idiot and not some girl at the bar’s idiot, but you wouldn’t risk this. This friendship was too important to you to jeopardize for your stupid middle school girl pinning. You put your feelings back in the box they’d let themselves out of just as the pancakes arrived.
Five.
“You think you’d had five drinks tonight?” Your eyebrow is arched as you look back at an incredibly hammered Barzy. You knew he had to be at least eight deep, more like ten, but instead you said, “Are you sure it’s five?”
Mat nodded profusely, looking more like his bobblehead then himself in that moment. You turned your palms up at him and shrugged a bit, giving him a look of complete disbelief. He proudly put down his beer and yanked his sleeve up to show you his wrist. On his wrist were five incredibly smudged tally marks of various lengths. He hadn’t even managed to realize you were supposed to cross the last one across the other four for every set of five, so there were just five incredibly crooked lines drawn on his wrist in Sharpie.
“See? Five tally marks, five drinks,” he told you, like you were the idiot in this situation.
You nodded in fake understanding as an incredible drunk Mat reached for you. He was significantly touchier with you when he was drunk, his large hands always finding your skin and making a series of thoughts you shouldn’t have run through your brain as your heartbeat picked up in your chest. His hands rested on your upper arms this time as he lined himself up with you, forcing you to make eye contact.
“I’m fine. Don’t you worry about ol’ Barzy here,” he slurred.
“You’re twenty-two,” you laughed. “Hardly makes you an old man, my friend. Come on, I called an Uber. Let’s go.”
You took on of his hands from your arm and held it, dragging him slowly out of the party. He had the attention span of a golden retriever puppy when he was drunk, so it was a good thing you had some practice with this and started your journey to the car ten minutes before your Uber was supposed to arrive. By the time you made it outside, it was already waiting for you. You gave him one small shove and he practically fell right into the car.
“You know,” Mat told you as the car started to roll away from the party, “you’re a really good friend, ya know.”
You smiled at him but turned your face away quickly as you felt the tears start to sting in your eyes. Maybe it’s the few drinks you’d had yourself, but Mat calling you a good friend was definitely supposed to feel good, but all it was make your heart clench inside your chest. It confirmed everything you were feeling. You and Mat were friends, good to great friends even, but that’s how he saw you, his friend. You never wanted to be the kind of person that complained about someone not liking them back, but you finally understood where everyone else was coming from. This feeling was awful in a way you couldn’t quite describe. It was like a hand had reached into you, found the place where your feelings for Mat where, and squeezed hard, except that hand wasn’t actually all too careful to target that one spot and instead squeezed everything inside your chest until you could barely catch your breath and the tears were rolling down your cheeks. Thank god that Mat had way more than five drinks and was already asleep against the opposite window because you couldn’t keep it together the entire ride home.
Four.
“You really want four dogs at once?” The disagreement coated Mat’s voice. “That’s a lot of dogs at once. I think you need to reconsider this part of your life plan.”
“Four is a very reasonable number,” you replied, not even bothering to look up from your phone. “And this is my twenty-year plan here, Mat, not yours. You don’t get a say.”
“I’m your best friend. I deserve a say here if I think you’re going to screw up part of your life,” he countered. “You’re going to be beholden to these creatures. And you’re gonna have four of them! They’re going to need you constantly. You’re not going to have time for anything else.”
“I do plan on like, having someone around at some point,” you reminded him. “Step nine of this plan was to find that man, finally, and one of the key criteria is that is likes dogs, so he’ll help share the workload.”
“And then you really only have two dogs,” Mat mumbles under his breath as he start to nod in understanding. “Okay, okay, I concede. You’re right, four is the correct number of dogs.”
You laughed in response to his agreement, “Now I’ve just got to find a man and convince him like I convinced you.”
“Took you all of a minute to get me on board with your plan here. I’d sign up to co-parent four dogs with you. You’re gonna be a killer pet parent. I’m sure you can get some other schmuck to agree with you. He’s not going to be as hot as me though, so that’s going to be a downgrade for you right there.”
You didn’t let his words sink in. You let them flow right out of your head as soon as they came in. It was for the best, you told yourself.
Three.
- Hours into your co-worker’s engagement party and you were about ready to scream. If one more platter of engagement cookies with their initials and faces came past you, you were going to explode. The only reason you’d make it this long was Mat and the fact he tipped the bartender big time when you got your first drink, so he was making you doubles and triples when he was only supposed to pour singles at the open bar.
“This sucks,” you sighed to him, taking a swig of your drink.
“This party is fucking pathetic,” he said to you. “How are people this boring before they’re thirty? I just don’t understand. If I ever get engaged to someone who wants to have cookies with our faces on them at our engagement party, please shoot me.”
“I expect you to do the same if I ever think that’s a good idea,” you laughed as your spoke.
“You know what,” Mat paused only to down the remaining third of his drink in one go, “it’s time to blow this popsicle stand.”
“Jesus, Mat, they haven’t even made a toast yet or anything. We can’t leave yet,” you tried to remind him, even though it was completely half-assed since you might have been more miserable than him.
“Oh, come on, be irresponsible. Let’s go do something actually fun,” Mat said, leaning into you as he spoke. “You’re in a killer dress. You look incredible. There’s this cool bar down the road I’ve been wanting to try, and we’re dressed for the occasion.”
You scrunched up your nose as you thought. You wanted out, but you also really didn’t want to be rude since you’d have to show up to work on Monday regardless. Mat took your drink from you as you thought, taking care of the rest of your glass with ease even though the bottom quarter was definitely straight vodka due to how slow you’d been drinking. He looked at you, his eyes softly begging for you to get the hell out of here with him. You sighed and grabbed one of his hands, making your way towards the back exit. You couldn’t see the smile on his face, but you felt his fingers slide between yours as he gave your hand an appreciative squeeze.
Two.
- Times that you’ve almost told him how you feel in the last month. The holiday season had you feeling particularly emotional in general due to a combination of Hallmark movies and the holiday parties’ people were having were giving you a few too many opportunities to be drunk around Mat. Drunk you was a little looser lipped than sober you. Both times started and ended the same way.
“Hey, Mat, can I talk to you for a quick sec?”
You placed your hand on his shoulder as he spoke, pulling him slightly so he’d turn to face you. Each time he agreed and followed you away from the crowd, tucked away in a less traffic area of the party.
“What’s up? Are you too drunk? Do you need to head out? I can call an Uber. Or should I call a Lyft?” he asked in rapid succession.
“No, no,” you shook your head. “I, uh, I wanted to tell you something actually.”
“Okay, shoot,” he replied instantly. “You know you can tell me anything.”
Your mouth went dry as the desert and your carefully rehearsed speech dissolved in your mind. You looked at him, his eyes dark as his traced over your face, trying to figure out what could have been important enough for you to pull him away from the party. Your eyes danced across his face, his strong jawline, his kind eyes, his soft lips. You wanted him. You wanted him so badly it hurt, but the idea of losing him from your life kept your mouth shut both times.
“You know what. Actually, it’s nothing. I figured it out myself. Let’s go get another drink.”
One.
You snapped back to the current moment, pulling your head out of the past. You watched the clock turn to 11:59pm.
“Sorry, I zoned out there,” you told him.
“It’s alright. Tito dropped in when you faded off, so no hard feelings,” he laughed as he spoke, “Um, actually, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about and I guess, why not start the new year off with a bang?”
You took a deep breath in as you looked over Mat’s face curiously. He was nervous. His hands were fidgeting with his cup. He was shuffling from side to side, foot to foot, transferring his weight with each movement. He looked down at the ground, unable to meet your eyes and mumbled something you couldn’t hear. The countdown for the last twenty seconds had already started, so there was too much background noise to catch his words.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you?” You had to shout to make sure he heard you.
“I like you!” he screamed back. “Fuck that, I’m in love you with and I really, really fucking don’t want to see you kiss anyone else at ten seconds because I’m pretty sure it’ll break me at this point.”
Ten. Your mind was racing. Nine. Mat wanted to kiss you. Eight. Mat liked you like you liked him. Seven. No, Mat loved you. Six. He took a step closer to you. Five. He was so nervous, nervous he’d just ruined everything because you still hadn’t said anything. Four. Your feelings burst out from the box you’d put them in, running through your body, making your heart rate kick up in your chest. Three. Mat leaned his face closer to yours. Two. Your eyes locked with his. One. You rocked up on your toes and pressed your lips against his.
His hands found your hips, pulling you desperately closer to him, practically crushing you against his chest, but his lips were soft and gentle against yours. The room exploded into cheers around you, everyone celebrating the ball drop and the new year, but you barely noticed them, until you pulled back from Mat. His eyes scanned your face, trying to figure out exactly what you were feeling.
“I love you too, Mat.”
“Thank God,” he chuckled to himself as he leaned down to kiss you again, “and happy fucking New Year to me.”
#mat barzal#mat barzal imagine#mat barzal fic#nhl imagine#nhl fic#nhl fanfic#nhl fanfiction#hockey imagine
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mistletoe? oh no! - im jaebeom
⇢ prompt Why do we kiss under a mistletoe when it’s a parasitic plant that steals nutrients from its host tree?
⇢ pairing jaebeom x female reader
⇢ word count 6.9k
⇢ genre fluff
⇢ warnings swearing. alcohol. suggestive make out at the end :D
⇢ summary Six months ago, you drunkenly kissed Im Jaebeom on a beach trip with your friends. Afterward, the awkward tension kept the two of you from ever having the ‘What are we?’ talk and eventually, too much time had passed for anything to ever happen. Luckily, Pollyanna and a stupidly placed mistletoe have brought your feelings to the boiling point.—friends to lovers!au
⇢ a/n happy new year’s my loves! as one last hurrah for 2019 & as part of @kwritersworld‘s holiday writing event, here is yet another idiots to lovers, christmas/nye au! here’s to a lovely new year, & new decade. i hope you all have a blessed, joyous, & prosperous year. i love you! ♥︎
You once thought that you were an introvert.
You know— someone deemed shy, with a preference to keep to themselves rather than going out of their way to interact with others. Introvert. Opposite of extrovert.
It wasn’t until you were a senior in high school did you learn new definitions for these personality categories. An introvert—according to your philosophy teacher and a TED Talk speaker shown on the projector during class—is someone who, simply put, thinks of how they feel before speaking. Extroverts, on the other hand, only identify their true feelings on a topic after they have begun discussing it.
The lesson stuck with you. Albeit your perpetual reservation from others, you were always one to argue. Smart, excellent report card over the years— but found yourself blurting your opinion out at the first chance before fully thinking it through. Now, you concluded, I suppose I’m an extrovert if that truly is what it means. This knowledge, for some strange reason, gave you a token for change. If I’m an extrovert, you thought, I must start acting one.
Now, having just been accepted into law school, you think you have hit the nail on the head when it comes to meeting both definitions of an extrovert. Park Jinyoung, on the other hand, has his doubts.
“Are you sure you want to do this? Have you really thought about what this is gonna do to your life?” Despite the genuine concern laced in his tone, Jinyoung’s words make you wince. How he manages to suck the life out of a celebratory night out for drinks truly is beyond you.
“Yes, Jinyoung,” you groan, taking a desperate sip of your coquito like it’s really going to help against his insufferableness, “I’ve only been working for this for a few years, let me change my mind now.”
“You didn’t answer the question,” he counters, leaning in close enough for you to taste his Jo Malone fragrance on your tongue. You raise a skeptical brow at him. “Have you thought about what becoming a lawyer is going to make of your life?” His words are clipped and emphasized like he is speaking to a child, trying desperately to get his point across.
“I appreciate you looking out for me and my future, Jinyoung,” you sigh, reclining back in your bar stool because sitting that close to Jinyoung for that long makes your head dizzy, “but I promise you, I have thought about this. I know I have a lot of hard work ahead of me, but it’s what I want to do. I promise.”
Jinyoung huffs, defeated, before tipping his wine glass back and chugging what is left like some sort of animal. Very not Jinyoung-like. “Well, then I guess there’s no reason to not celebrate with you,” he grins. Then, not even a beat later, “When are you gonna make time to marry Jaebeom and have a bunch of sexy little babies?”
“Aw, for crying out loud!” You howl, slapping a hand to your forehead before turning to him with a pointed glare and a pointed finger. “Okay, first of all, the fact that you used sexy and babies in the same sentence concerns me. And second, stop saying me and Jaebeom are going to get married! He doesn’t even look at me, how do you equate marriage out of that?”
“You mean, you don’t look at him. You guys had a great time when we went to the beach not even six months ago, saw each other half naked, shared a drunken kiss before bed, and then dropped all communication! What the hell is up with that?” Jinyoung has a habit of lecturing you like it’s his full-time job and it drives you absolutely insane because he’s always right.
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you mumble, bringing your glass to your lips and taking a lengthy sip just to buy some time. “Come on, ___. My boy is out here drowning in unrequited love while you’re just all ‘Teehee! I’m a lawyer! Don’t talk to me when I’m doing lawyer tings!’ Cut the bullshit and let him take you on a date and blow your back out for Christ’s sake!”
You are physically unable to suppress your laughter, hand flying to cover your mouth and head thrown back at his comical outburst. He’s lucky you love him or else he would seriously regret that outrageously inaccurate imitation of your voice. He’s lucky you are tipsy enough to lose yourself in laughter and he’s especially lucky that he is correct, once again.
“Jinyoung,” you wheeze, letting out one more breathless giggle before flipping on the serious mode switch, “I would love to not only go out on a date with Jaebeom, but to date him. But things got awkward and so much time as passed that suddenly starting things up again would be weird. Don’t you think?”
“No!” Jinyoung yells. Half the people at the bar jump at the noise and turn to glare. You do just the same before shooting an older gentleman beside Jinyoung an apologetic look. “I just don’t think you’re drinking enough.”
“Yes,” then, a pause to ask the bartender for the check now that Jinyoung’s lectures are starting to put a downer on you, “that’s exactly it. I’m afraid to get drunk off my ass when Jaebeom’s around because I’ll do something stupid and either scare him off or bring him home and both are terrible options!”
“You’re no fun,” Jinyoung scoffs, “my two best friends, both pining after one another, but pulling the sixteen-year-old card and not talking to each other. Great! Just great.”
You laugh, hopping down from your seat and patting his knee once you have slipped on your coat. “Buy a mistletoe for the Christmas party and maybe something can be arranged.”
Jinyoung doesn’t find it funny.
For the past six years, it has been tradition for you and your friends to have a belated Christmas slash New Year’s party where Pollyanna gifts are exchanged and an excessive amount of alcohol is consumed because, well, your friends are fun. For the past three, however, you have been holding said party at Youngjae’s house, because he is the only one who has a house and houses are infinitely better for parties than apartments. Plus, Youngjae is a gracious man who welcomes the company year after year. Can’t understand why he wants nine psychopaths in his lovely little abode, but that’s not your problem.
What is your problem is the fact that there actually is a mistletoe hanging from the ceiling fan in the kitchen. You’re going to kill Jinyoung.
You once thought Choi Youngjae was the coolest person to bless the planet. Now, you’re not so sure.
It’s the first thing your eye goes to upon entering Youngjae’s outrageously beautiful row home. Usually, you need a solid ten minutes to accept the fact that you will never become a model and have as many zeroes at the end of your savings as Youngjae, spending way too much time swooning over his grey vinyl wood floors and brick fireplace and white marble countertops. This time, however, while Jinyoung and Yugyeom do the whole bro hug greeting after wiping the snow from their shoes, you stand pressed up awkwardly against the front door, crockpot of buffalo chicken dip in hand, glaring at the stupid thing from two rooms over. Before you can turn an accusing finger to Jinyoung, Youngjae has turned to welcome you.
“You made it!” He cheers, flashing that thousand-watt smile of his and easing some of the tension that has begun to build up in your nerves like plaque. “Somehow, someway,” you return, relaxing into his embrace when he curves around the precious chicken dip to offer a half hug. “You need a drink,” Youngjae decides after having evaluated the lack of excitement in your response. Following after Jinyoung and Yugyeom, he leads you into the kitchen with a lively bounce to his step. “Bambam just finished making hot toddies, or you could be the first to take from our jell-o shot Christmas tree.”
He gestures to said “tree” on his dining table, a neatly stacked pile of green, red, and blue jell-o shots and you feel awfully terrible at having to ruin its perfected assembly. “It’s beautiful,” you muse, setting the crockpot on the counter and plugging its cord into an outlet, “it would be my honor to have the first one.”
“___!” Hollers Jackson as he slides open the door from the back patio and enters the kitchen, Maggie filing in after him. He must have joined her for a smoke outside. He proceeds to do a little dance shimmy as he makes his way over to you. “Jackson, my love,” you grin, squeezing him into a tight hug after he slaps a messy kiss to your cheek. “How are you, Miss I-Got-Accepted-Into-Law-School?”
That is going to be the topic of discussion for the night, it seems, and the heat of an embarrassed blush works its way up your neck at the realization. “I’m good. Really good, actually,” you say, directing your attention to Maggie who slips around Jackson to tuck into your side, “definitely not as stressed as I was. The holidays are a nice break from everything.”
“We’re all so proud of you,” Maggie hums, leaning her head on your shoulder.
“Seriously, congratulations, again. You deserve it,” Jackson praises, reaching to squeeze your cheek. You swat his hand away in fear he will mess up the foundation you spent way too much time applying.
“Thank you, guys. I’m glad someone is happy for me,” you grumble, directing a cold glare to Jinyoung who, somehow, has already managed to fire Yugyeom up.
“What?” Bambam interjects, jumping into the conversation now that he has made his way into the room. “Didn’t you guys go out when you got accepted?”
“Yeah,” you sigh, smiling to the very expensive looking boy, “but he’s more worried than excited. Thinks I’m not considering how becoming a lawyer is going to affect my future, the stress of it, having a family, but…”
Maggie scoffs. “God, he sounds like your dad.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Ugh! Everyone, shoo! Why are we all in the kitchen? Go sit in the living room,” Youngjae hisses, grabbing Bambam by the shoulders and shoving him out of the room. Bambam makes a sound of protest, gesturing dramatically to all the food and the pot of hot toddy still on the stove.
“You can come back when there isn’t an entire crowd in here,” Youngjae counters, slapping a handful of jell-o shots into his hands, “I made Yugyeom promise to not eat all of ___’s dip, you don’t need to worry.” Bambam grumbles in response, stumbling after the others and you follow suit with a laugh.
Pausing just before the living room, Bambam stops to pass everyone a shot. “Here’s to Christmas and getting Jaebeom and ___ to kiss under the mistletoe.”
“Stop!” You whine, just as the rest ‘clink’ their cups and shout, “Cheers!” Nevertheless, down the hatch the jell-o goes and you glare at them all once they are done.
“Oh, speak of the Devil,” Yugyeom snickers just as you have ran ahead to crash down on the sofa, stretching your legs out across the chaise. Rolling over off your stomach, you turn to watch Mark, Jaebeom, and Shelby arrive, one too many gift bags and bottles of wine in hand. “Oh,” Maggie whispers from beside you, elbow nudging into your side, “look at your man.”
Funny thing is, you already are. To give you the benefit of the doubt— you were already watching the trio stumble into the room anyway, but it just so happened you stopped at Jaebeom. Before things between you got complicated, when you were just friends, he always had a way of stealing the oxygen from your lungs. Now is no different.
Dressed in black slacks, a white tee tucked in and a baby blue blazer to top it all off, Jaebeom looks nothing short of marvelous. He’s been growing his hair out, too, the black waves curling down to brush his cheekbones, screaming to be combed through with your fingers. And oh Christ, you can’t even begin to talk about the nose piercing. In the midst of your swooning, Jaebeom looks up after having deemed his sneakers clean enough to walk through Youngjae’s home, scanning the room before conveniently landing on you. The blush on both of your faces is instantaneous, hardly a second of maintaining eye contact before the embarrassment burns too hot and you turn away. Still, you can’t fight your smile.
Neither can he.
“Now the party’s started!” Mark hoots, swinging two bottles in the air like he’s asking for disaster. “Hurry and put everything down so we can play something,” Yugyeom whines from his seat across the room, pushing Jaebeom’s butt to move faster. “Patience is a virtue, Yugyeom,” Jinyoung comments, throwing a Hershey Kiss wrapper at him.
“Absolute children,” Maggie mutters. You hum in agreement.
“Do you wanna play the alphabet game?” Bambam proposes, earning a groan from Jackson. He hates the game, despite how often you all play it, claiming it takes too much brain power for a party.
“Yes! I’m down,” Shelby shouts anyway, having returned in time to hear Bambam’s question. To Jackson’s misery, you all agree as well.
“Youngjae!” Bambam shouts, waiting for him to yell back. “Grab the peppermint vodka when you come in! We’re playing the alphabet game!”
The way you all play most likely has deviated from the original rules of the game, but it works and it’s fun. Sitting in a circle, you go through the alphabet, naming something in a certain category that begins with whatever letter you’re on. For example, if you were doing fruits and were on the letter W, you could say watermelon. But, the person to your right is counting to ten, and once that time is up, you have to take a shot and the letter moves on to the next person until someone gets a word. Sounds easy, until you’re three shots in and not even halfway through the alphabet.
With Shelby collapsing down between Yugyeom and Jackson on the love seat, Youngjae on the armchair by the fireplace, and Mark on the bean bag brought down from upstairs, you realize with a rising sense of panic that the only possible seating for Jaebeom is by—
“Hey,” he says, tapping your outstretched legs, “can I sit here? You can keep your legs stretched. I don’t mind.”
“Oh, sure, sure!” You squeak, jerking to sit up and to pull your legs to your chest. However, just as he sits, he grabs your ankles to tug them back. Hesitantly, and with an appreciative smile sent his way, you hesitantly lay your legs over his lap, his arms comfortably rested over them. Oh, fuck.
Swallowing hard and trying to ignore the way your heart flutters in her chest, you turn back to your friends where the game is just starting.
“Okay, I’ll start since I’m in the middle,” Mark announces, readjusting himself in the bean bag to sit closer to the coffee table, “Yugyeom, you count. Actually, you don’t need to, I already have my word. A, as in artificial tree.”
“One word, idiot,” Youngjae scoffs, smacking the back of Mark’s head, “take a shot. Yugyeom, you go.”
The younger boy pales, panicking when Mark does as he is told. Then, he blurts, “A as in angel!”
“B as in bells!” Shelby shouts.
“C as in… Christmas,” Jackson says with a wink.
“D as in December,” Jinyoung hums nonchalantly.
“E as in eggnog!” Bambam cheers.
“F as in…” Maggie pales, trailing off. In your head, you start to count, while simultaneously trying to think of a holiday word that starts with F. “Festive!” She shouts suddenly. “Oh, shit, um… G as in… gingerbread?” You huff, relieved.
“H as in holiday,” Jaebeom says with a soft smile. All eyes are on Youngjae as he stares hopelessly at the ceiling. “I, as in…”
In your head, you count alongside Mark. “What the fuck starts with I?” Youngjae hisses, slapping his knees anxiously. The silence is deafening until Mark shouts with a sadistic grin, “TEN!” Youngjae hangs his head low before reaching for the bottle. Ironic, because Mark can’t think of a word, and neither can Yugyeom, Shelby, or Jackson. Jinyoung grins at their expense until it’s his turn. “Icicle,” he says without a beat.
“That’s not Christmas-y!” Yugyeom whines, hands thrown up dramatically. “Can you think of anything better, stupid?” Jinyoung fires back, evidently shutting him up. Poor Yugyeom, he can never win.
“J as in Jesus,” Bambam says with a laugh.
“K? Bruh, you gotta be joking,” Maggie sighs, throwing her head back against the sofa, trying to concentrate. “Ten,” you sigh sadly even though you counted to fifteen, patting her knee and Youngjae passes her the bottle. “Um, K as in…” Christ, you can’t think of anything either. Kris Kringle? No, two words, fuck.
“Ten!” Jaebeom chuckles, squeezing your calf and you quickly take a swig with a wince. The round goes all the way to Shelby, who happily yells, “Kings!”
The game drags on, keeping you all at the edge of your seats by the time U and V come around. When it comes to W, everyone has had one too many shots to be able to think quickly enough to come up with wreath. Except for Jinyoung, of course. You give up on Z, deciding there is no such word and you all let out a relieved breath at the game’s conclusion. “Does this mean we can eat now?” Jackson mumbles, far too gone for a party that has only started hardly an hour ago.
“Yes! I’m ravenous,” Bambam groans, helping his friend stand. Together, they’re the first to make way into the kitchen and you’re surprised Youngjae doesn’t chase after them to make sure they don’t knock anything over.
“Well,” Jaebeom yawns and you are suddenly mortified to realize that your legs are still casually stretched out over his lap. “That was fun.” Swinging your legs away and moving to sit up, you nod in agreement. “Very fun. Love watching you and Jinyoung outsmart us every time.”
“Hey,” he frowns, elbowing your arm now that you’re sitting upright beside him, “nobody could think of tree for T, but you did, so shush.” You turn to give him an unamused look. “That’s because Jinyoung was overthinking, and Maggie and Bam drank too much,” you laugh, standing with a stretch. Jaebeom raises an eyebrow. “What?” You ask, unsure of what that look means.
“Why does your snowman have a cape? Oh—” he starts, lifting the fabric attached to the winking snowman on your ugly sweater to find a carrot penis below the three buttons. Jaebeom breaks out into laughter, face scrunched up and head thrown back and it consequently makes you laugh, too. Well, if there was any person that was going to ask first, you’re glad it was him. “Was not expecting that,” he chuckles, wiping the tears that have accumulated at his eyes before rising to stand and oh, suddenly you feel so small with him standing so close to you like that. God, he’s beautiful, you admire. Without thinking, you brush away a tuft of hair that has fallen over his eye, just to see your favorite pair of moles. It isn’t until rosiness blooms across his cheekbones do you realize what you just did.
“Sorry,” you rush breathlessly, taking a step back and turning to make sure nobody saw that. Luckily, only Shelby and Yugyeom remain, too busy cozying up to one another to notice. “___!” Maggie shouts from the kitchen like some godsent angel whose purpose is to save you from awkward moments. “You have to come see this!”
You shoot Jaebeom an awkward smile before swinging around him and making a beeline for the kitchen. Idiot, you scold yourself before taking a deep breath and bringing a smile to your face. “What?” You hum, leaning your head on Maggie’s shoulder. All it is is a SnapChat story of someone you went to university with, a picture of an engagement ring, but you are beyond grateful she called you in. After she stops to take a selfie with you, you navigate around your friends to start a pile of food on your plate, everything from dim sum (thanks, Jackson), grilled pork belly, kimbap, bulgogi sandwiches, spaghetti (thanks, Jackson, part two), and, of course, tortilla chips with your buffalo chicken dip. Big plate for big brain.
Despite the crowdedness, thankfully you are able to avoid standing anywhere close to the mistletoe once Jaebeom enters the room only a few moments later. Finally making your way to the dining table, you let out a sigh of relief now that you don’t have to worry about anything looming above. Of course, your friends have a different idea.
“___,” Maggie purrs just as you have set your plate down, gazing at you expectantly and fluttering her lashes.
“What do you want?”
“Could you get a water for me? There’s bottles in the fridge. Pleeeaaase?” She sings. You wave her off, having already turned around. Can’t be mad at her, honestly; you forgot to grab something for yourself to drink, anyway. Pulling two bottles off the shelves and nudging the refrigerator door closed, you’re just trying to grab a potato chip from the bowl on the counter when Mark rounds the corner and trips over his own feet, coincidentally falling towards you but when you step back to avoid the red wine sloshing in his glass, Jinyoung has suddenly appeared behind you and you stumble over his foot.
It’s a good plan, you think, expecting Jaebeom to catch you like some fucking knight of shining armor and steady you just below the mistletoe, but unfortunately for them, you’re quick to reach for the counter and Jaebeom has literally just turned around in his search for silverware. Regaining your balance against the cabinets, you do not miss the group’s combined groan of disappointment and can’t help but triumphantly grin. “You okay, Mark?” You ask, spinning around and suppressing a laugh at the ‘please don’t kill me’ look in the older boy’s eyes. “Yep,” he coughs, stepping to the side as you brush past.
Dinner is tense, to say the least. Maybe it’s just you. You’re annoyed, beyond so, at your friends’ lack of maturity. Relatively speaking, yes, they are trying to help push you and Jaebeom in the right direction, but their ways of operation lack any beneficial qualities. This is your problem, and you have to deal with it yourself.
You stay quiet, for the most part, occupying your thoughts simply on eating and the approaching excitement of Pollyanna. When you all picked out of a hat a little over a month ago, you initially panicked at Bambam’s name looking back at you on the folded piece of paper. As it turned out, buying gifts for him ended up working out; first, you found matching sweaters for him and his cats, then a travel set for his Bleu de Chanel cologne, a mermaid blanket he had found an Instagram ad for and wouldn’t shut up about, and finally a gift card to his favorite Thai restaurant. What’s more exciting is finding out who has your gifts. Plus, everyone did incredibly well keeping quiet this year, managing to make it all the way without slipping who had who.
Unfortunately, your irritable emotions aren’t done for the night. After finishing your much needed, sobering meal, your goblin friends are prepared to have you and Jaebeom beneath that mistletoe if it’s the last thing they will ever do. Trying to clean up before everyone really gets trashed is an absolute nightmare, everyone taking part in the scheme of leaving just the two of you in the room, nudging him your way, asking you to help Jaebeom do this, help Jaebeom do that. It only gets worse once he realizes what they’re trying to do, curving around you like you have the plague and each time you make eye contact, you contemplate fleeing to the bathroom just to scream.
After what feels like ages spent in the stifling kitchen, you migrate back to the living room to finally, finally open gifts. Good riddance, mistletoe. At everyone’s look of general disappointment, you let out your umpteenth relieved sigh of the night and collapse back into your precious spot at the sofa. You know you’re getting old when you have only been out for two and a half hours and you’re already exhausted.
To make matters worse—or better, you can’t really tell at this point—Jaebeom also sits back down beside you. You can tell he’s anxious; he’s gone back and forth between picking at his nails and a scab on his jaw for a while now and you almost want to say something until you remember how deliberately he dodged you in the kitchen. Maybe, just maybe, a part of you had hoped he would have taken the opportunity and kissed you himself. Why would things ever be so simple?
“Alrighty, friends,” settling into his chair, Youngjae beams. “Let’s get this party started. We’ll go in the same circle as before.”
In turn, Mark flashes that boyish smile of his and leans across the table to pass a bag and small box to Jinyoung. “Ooh,” the younger boy hums excitedly, “thanks, Mark.” Next, Yugyeom hands Jackson a bag, Shelby slides a big box to Youngjae, and, breaking into a fit of laughter, Jackson ends up giving a bag right back to Yugyeom. Jinyoung passes Maggie her gift, and when Bambam rises to hand Jaebeom a hefty bag, you can’t help but miss the way he glances sadly to you before smiling gratefully at his friend and engulfing him into a hug. Suddenly, it dawns on you that there are only three other people left, and watch with an impending sense of dread as Maggie walks across the room to give Shelby her gift. Two left.
Grinning excitedly, you lean over to pass Bambam his gift bag, earning a smile in return bright enough to put the Sun out of business. Now, the moment you all have been waiting for.
Sucking in a deep breath, you turn to Jaebeom, sending all prayers to God that he will rise to hand Mark the bag in his hands.
The universe laughs.
“Ugh,” Jaebeom groans, grinning like a Cheshire cat, “you’re so far.” He places the gift bag, which, is surprisingly heavier than expected, on your lap. “Thanks, Jae,” you manage, smiling fondly at him. Behind him, Youngjae drops a box by Mark’s feet, but by now everything around you has faded into the background, leaving only you and Jaebeom floating in the midst of it all. Even though he has turned away, you can’t stop staring at him. Why’d it have to be him? What are the chances? God, something tells you you’re going to fall in love by the time the night is over.
It isn’t until the tearing of wrapping paper registers in your mind do you snap out of it, coming back to reality and quickly redirecting your attention to opening your gift.
There’s a lot to unfold here, you think with a racing heart, removing the tissue paper and finding three separate items inside. You go for the small box first. It’s a jewelry box, no doubt, but this doesn’t keep the butterflies in your stomach at bay once you lift the beige lid to reveal a rose gold bracelet, diamonds in the pattern of a constellation. There’s a small card attached to the lid, too, and flipping that over you read that it is the constellation for your zodiac sign. “Jae,” you whimper, lips curling into a pout and he laughs at your touched expression. “This is beautiful.”
“Shh! Open everything first,” he hushes, waving you off and returning to his own gift.
Sucking in a deep breath, you do as you’re told and reach for the much larger box. Tearing open the wrapping paper and lifting the lid, you find a glass dome atop a wooden base, and inside is a beautiful red and gold rose with little fairy lights surrounding it. A Beauty and the Beast replicate, without a doubt, and it is so stunning you wish you could lift the glass and feel the fake rose for yourself. A man of taste, without a doubt.
Last but not least, you grab the envelope and excitedly tear it open, because envelopes mean one of three things: 1) a card 2) tickets 3) money, all unlikely options when it comes to Pollyanna.
Well, maybe not, because inside are two passes for the art museum up in the city. “Dude,” you kick Jaebeom’s ankle and stammer out, “how did you? When did you?”
He laughs. “You mentioned wanting to go a few months ago, and I didn’t think you ever got a chance. You haven’t, right?” He sounds worried. “No, I never got to go,” swallowing past the desert dryness of your throat, “thank you, Jaebeom. Everything is so beautiful.”
“Of course, ___,” he smiles, reaching for your hand and even though it’s only a gentle squeeze he gives you, it has your heart doing somersaults. “Anything for you.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. You are going through some serious torture here and still won’t make a move!
Everyone is extraordinarily jovial after opening gifts. With Christmas music filling the room with cheer and one too many drinks being mixed, holiday charades and pin the nose on Rudolph are played with high spirits and excessive competitiveness. The night is fun, without a doubt, and you try to ignore the way your friends are still trying to get you and Jaebeom under the mistletoe no matter how annoying it may be. Why can’t they do it to Yugyeom and Shelby? Sure, everyone knows they fuck but neither of them have the balls to officially ask the other out, so why are you the one targeted? Jaebeom didn’t ask for this, either.
“Fuck!” Youngjae groans when Maggie makes her shot into their cup for jingle bell beer pong. Since freshman year, you and Maggie have fought back and forth for the champion's title against Youngjae and Jackson. With this being the second win against them for the night, you get to wear the label proud until next time. “Oh, yeah, baby!” She shouts, doing a funky celebratory dance before jumping to give you a hug.
“I’m a disgrace to the Chinese community,” Jackson cries—literally—before squatting to bury his face in his knees.
“HA!” You laugh mercilessly, jumping along with Maggie in triumph. “You guys are so mean,” Mark chuckles, walking away from their own losers’ championship to see what all the commotion is about. “Just to Youngjae and Jackson,” Maggie defends, gesturing to the pair having a drunken meltdown together. You hum in agreement.
“Yugyeom and Jaebeom are playing Jinyoung and Bambam. It’s pretty intense,” Mark explains, blatantly sarcastic when you glance curiously to the other table. “They’re all so drunk, they’re literally just throwing bells at each other.” He holds up one such bell that must have strayed away from the game. You laugh, hugging your jacket closer and watching Yugyeom begin to twerk when he finally makes a shot.
“My God,” Maggie snickers, shielding her eyes and turning away from the scene to comfort the still depressed Jackson.
“So,” Mark starts, “you and Jaebeom, huh?”
You groan. “Me and Jaebeom, what?”
“I mean, those gifts he gave you were pretty cute. What’s it gonna take for you to ask him to go to the museum with you, hm?” He purrs with a rise of his dark brows. Shit, he does have a point. Why else would Jaebeom give you two passes? To bring one of your other, definitely less artsy friends to go with you?”
Mark simpers at your speechless self, knowing he’s trumped you.
Sucking in a deep breath, you hold the cold air in long enough to gather your scrambling thoughts before releasing a heavy exhale with absolutely no change to how you feel. “I’ll try,” you grumble, “why can’t he make the first move?”
Mark lets out a dry laugh. “___, are you serious?”
“Huh? What—”
“He’s been making the first move for months,” he interrupts, shaking his head at your textbook definition denseness, “you’ve just been curving him the entire time. I know you’ve been busy with law school stuff the past few months, but come on, now. You have to grab him before someone else does.”
If it weren’t for the chill of the air keeping your cheeks and the tip of your nose cold and ruddy, you know the color would have drained from your face. Embarrassed and in desperate need for some space, you quickly turn away to look in the direction of the house, where Coco scratches at the backdoor.
“I, um, I’ll be right back,” you say, voice small. Heart hammering in your chest as you jog up the steps and across the small deck, it isn’t until you have slid open the door to let Coco out and closed it behind you do you let out a shaky sigh. “Jesus Christ,” you hiss, shaking off your jacket and slinging it over a chair before moving to cower in the corner. Reaching for what little tortilla chips are left, you anxiously take the lid off your chicken dip and begin shoveling mouthfuls into your mouth. Is it true? Have you really been the one dodging Jaebeom all this time? Sure, everyone always says it, especially Jinyoung, but it has seemed like Jaebeom has been curving you, too.
Maybe he has just been giving up.
This makes your head hurt, you think, bending down to rest your forehead against the counter. The fucking gifts, man. Mark is right—the bracelet, the rose lamp, the museum tickets. How did he remember that small detail you mentioned… when did you even mention it? You can’t remember, yet he did! Jesus, all this time you’ve wasted being an absolute clown over this. You’ll have to do something about it. Tonight, you decide, looking to the clock above the stove. 11:12 PM. Forty-eight minutes until New Year’s. You’ll kiss him, and that’s when you will—
“Ahem.” Behind you, someone clears their throat and it quite literally feels as if you have jumped out of your skin. “Jesus Christ!” You jump, spinning around with a heart thumping in your chest. Your heartbeat only mildly slows once you realize it’s only Jaebeom. OnlyJaebeom, yeah. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, chuckling awkwardly. “Did I interrupt something?”
You wince, beyond humiliated he caught you mid-pep talk slash breakdown. “No, no. You’re fine, I was just, um…”
“Catching a breath?” He finishes when you trail off. Maybe he’s not so drunk, after all.
“Yeah,” you whisper, looking to your feet.
After a long moment of silence, Jaebeom clears his throat. “Listen, ___, I… I’ve been meaning to talk to you, and—”
“Wait!” You interrupt before your brain has even caught up. His eyes widen in surprise at your sudden excitement. “I need to tell you something, first.”
“Ohhh ‘kay,” he laughs nervously, stepping closer to lean against the counter beside you and his proximity suddenly makes it very hard to breathe, let alone figure out what you want to say.
“I don’t know where to start. Okay, um, first, I guess. The gifts you gave me? Amazing. Probably one of the best I’ve ever gotten. So thank you, really,” you start, rushed and out of breath. Jaebeom hums, lips tilting into an amused smirk. You don’t miss how he leans just barely closer. “Second. Mark was just talking to me, and he said something that just… fucked me up. Apparently, I’m good at school but not at catching when someone actually, truly likes me.”
At this, Jaebeom’s curiosity has peaked and his heartbeat starts to mirror your own. “I don’t know how this happened. I know we kissed over the summer, and you have been my friend for years but all of a sudden, I realized that I like you. You’re like, one of my favorite people in the world. But then things got crazy busy and I told myself I needed to concentrate, but for fuck’s sake, I’m still head over heels for you after all this time. And Mark said that if I don’t stop curving you, soon you are going to find someone else and, Jesus, I don’t think I can live with myself if I let you slip by.”
Somewhere in the middle of your ramble, Jaebeom has pressed himself to you and curled a finger through a belt loop in your jeans to keep you there against him. Even up close, he is so unbearably handsome, nose still beet red from the cold, lips cracked and face left unshaven. “So,” he whispers, raising his free hand to cup your face, “are you ready to finally stop running from me?” You offer a tiny nod, nuzzling into his hand before, “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Can you kiss me?”
Jaebeom doesn’t waste any time bothering to answer, tipping your chin up to meet his lips. Jaebeom’s kiss is soft, just a drawn-out peck but it’s enough to drop kick your sanity right out the door. “Tastes like buffalo chicken,” he whispers with a smile, just barely pulling back. Just as soon as he has stopped, you are fisting your hands into his jacket and tugging him back, greedily opening his mouth with yours and whimpering against him once he has caught the hint and slackened his jaw to deepen the kiss. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but kissing Jaebeom leaves you breathless, limbs weak kind of drunk on his taste and leaving you desperate for more.
“Jaebeom,” you sigh dreamily, arching into him when he drags a hand down your spine. “Fuck,” he whispers, pushing you further against the cabinets and mindlessly gyrating his hips with yours. Hands brushing past your ass to grip the back of your thighs, he orders, “Jump.” You do as he says, allowing him to help you onto the counter and you distantly pray someone doesn’t walk in on you, especially Youngjae. He’ll murder you if you knock something down.
“Can’t believe you’ve kept me waiting all this time when you kiss like that,” Jaebeom mutters, kissing along the length of your neck and groaning against your skin when your hands brush along the waistband of his pants. “Never met someone who wears an ugly sweater and still manages to be the hottest one in the room.”
Your breath hitches when his hand slips beneath your sweater, fingers brushing just over your bra and leaving fire in their wake. “Impossible,” you huff, wrapping your legs around him to pull him impossibly closer, his involuntary thrusts brushing deliciously against you, “when I say the same thing about you.” Jaebeom chuckles, returning to your mouth and cradling your jaw to meet him. You could do this forever, you think, nails digging into his arms when his hand cards through your hair and he kisses like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.
“God, I can’t do this when I’m not sober,” he sighs, leaning his forehead against yours and you can’t help but smile at the soft gesture. “Me too,” you admit, reaching to play with the soft hair at the back of his neck, “we can do this whenever now, though.” Jaebeom chuckles, leaning back to admire you before placing a much softer kiss on your lips. “Does that mean you’ll go out on a date with me?”
“Well, yes, of course,” you grin, sliding off the counter and cupping his face, “I meant what I said. I can’t bear the thought of not giving us a chance.”
“It’s about damn time,” Jaebeom teases, earning a light punch to his arm. “Hey! I’ve been stressed out of my mind. I was blind when it came to seeing you flirt with me.”
“I’m kidding, ___,” he chuckles, “I’m glad it took us until now. It’s a good way to start off the year, knowing I’ll meet my New Year’s Resolution and be able to bone you sooner than later.”
Your eyes widen at his words, warmth instantly blooming its way up your neck when you glance to the growing tent in his slacks and he lets out a triumphant laugh. In the midst of your embarrassed flush, the back-door slides open and none other than Jinyoung starts shouting, “Where the fuck have y’all been? Oh— shit! What happened?”
Then, not a heartbeat later, “Kiss! KIIIISSSSSSS!”
“KISS!” Maggie screams, bouncing behind Jinyoung and it isn’t until you look up do you understand. Of fucking course— the stupid mistletoe.
“Shall we, m’lady?” Jaebeom asks, voice laced with amusement. You quirk a brow at him, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him closer.
“We shall.”
·
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Not even three hours into the new decade, Jaebeom has already met his New Year’s Resolution.
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Yandere asks Prompt 35 with thor please ( if you write for him ) otherwise anyone of your choice
Not the best way to defend a fair maiden. Idk if I wrote Thor well - I think he sounds larpy.
Yandere asks
Warnings: Not very descriptive smut, alcohol drinking (reader is a bartender in this) anal play, oral sex (female receiving), yandere, violence, blood, gore and death of a side character.
When you landed on the County Line to work your first job as a bartender you were excited to make all the cocktails you’d spent hours perfecting. You should’ve known it was all for naught. Brentwood was a small town, filled with people with small minds; if someone ordered anything more complex than a rum and coke you had cause to celebrate.
Your days at the bar dragged by, and you longed to escape to a place that was less dead, where people gave you the chance to show your artistry. With your pay, that was nothing but a pipe dream.
That is, until he walked into the bar.
He was a beautiful man, and huge too. Unlike the locals, who dragged their tired feet to a seat and ordered their beers sullenly, he waltzed to the bar, a big smile on his face, slapped the counter-top and asked for your best drink.
“No preference?” You asked. This never happened.
“I’ll drink whatever you give me,” he declared, puffing out his chest “You are the mead master.”
You laughed. “Mead master? I like that.”
You mixed him a Last Word, and he chugged it down in one gulp.
“Another!” He called, setting the glass down with almost too much strength.
“The same one?”
“Anything you want to make.”
“Right, mead master,” you grinned.
You fed him drink after drink, at first worried that he was ingesting enough alcohol to kill him, but by the time the bar closed, he only looked a little buzzed. You felt a little buzzed too. His joy was just that contagious. He loved the Dark and Stormy, and he was very impressed with your Tiki drinks pyrotechnics. It was so refreshing to have someone who wanted to talk about fun subjects, and asked you questions and showed so much interest in your craft. Most clients spared you no more than a greeting, and the ones who did were usually just looking for someone to share their problems with, or trying to be sleazy. Not this guy, though. He was way too boisterous to be called a gentleman, but he was nice, and friendly, and respectful, and a respite from your daily grind.
Letting him wait for you while you locked the bar felt right, as it did letting him walk you home. You two made jokes on the way, laughing like old friends. The hand he would sometimes press against your waist or hip was very much not a friendly gesture, though.
You asked him up; asked him if he wanted coffee. Way past midnight. He kept his hand on your ass as you climbed the steps up to your studio apartment, above the drugstore. You two fell onto your bed, a heap of limbs pulling at clothes just as soon as you’d closed the door.
It was the best sex you’d ever had, and he had the biggest cock you’d ever had. It startled you when you reached into his pants to pull it out. He chuckled at your reaction, and watched as you stroke him to full hardness, fascinated. You were worried you might not be able to take him.
He ate you out, and he was unfairly gifted in that area too, making you cum with his tongue alone. You were face down on the mattress before you even knew what was going on. It was disorienting, but you couldn't say you were unhappy with the position.
With his fact cock in your pussy and two fingers in your asshole he brought you to one earth-shattering orgasm after another. You were sobbing on your pillows by the time he finally reached his own end.
You passed out with a heavy, yet surprisingly comforting weight on top of you.
The mysterious stranger came back to the bar the next night, and you got to ask him his name. Thor. Weird, but it suited him.
He was just as charming and just as eager to try your concoctions as before. The rest of the patrons all but vanished as you listened to him talk about how long he’d been in town, what he liked best about it and for how long he planned to stay. He gave you the impression his date of departure was malleable.
You went home with him again, and spent the better part of the night riding him. The other part you spent being bounced on his cock while he kissed your collarbone and breasts.
It became a daily thing fast. You’d wake up in the morning, slide from under his arm and watch him snooze on your bed like a big lazy cat while you made coffee. You’d eat breakfast together before sending him on his way while you went about your day, did your chores and ran your errands. He would already be waiting at the bar when your shift started, and he would sit at the counter while you served him drink after drink and you two talked until closing time. He’d walk you home and then fuck you senseless until the sun came up – then you’d do it all over again. This was the kind of routine you could get used to.
The sound of a shot glass hitting the wooden surface of the bar drew your eyes from the spot you were wiping. More than a week into your strange relationship, Thor was bright as ever and ready to imbibe as ever. Looking into his blue eyes, crinkling with his smile, you knew this would come to an end, likely sooner rather than later, but you were determined to enjoy his company while it lasted.
“Another!” He cried out and you laughed.
You were reaching for the wine to make his New York Sour when you heard one of the stools creak under the weight of another patron. You raised your head and smiled to the customer. You didn’t recognize him – probably from out of town. The grin you received in return wasn’t very charming.
“Can I get a beer, hun?” He drawled, emphasizing the last word.
“Sure.” You struggled to maintain your smile as you went back to your work.
You handed Thor his drink and filled a glass with beer from the tap. The stranger kept his eyes on you as he drained his cup, but you were lucky to have Thor there to keep your mind off of him.
“This is the best one yet,” Thor said.
“You only say that because I made it.”
“You have caught me,” he grinned, rising his hands in mock surrender. “I would drink anything that came from you.”
You placed a hand over your burning cheeks and turned away.
“Beer me,” the other man said, sliding his glass over the counter to you.
You filled it back up again and set it in front of him. This time, though, his fingers wrapped around your wrist before you could pull away.
“Excuse me...” You tried to free yourself from his hold while not calling attention to yourself.
“C’mon. Isn’t that why girls get jobs in places like this? To get attention?”
“Sir, you need to stop this,” you said, a little louder this time, pulling away harder.
His grin grew wider and sleazier. “You’re really gonna make me work-”
The man gasped when a third hand joined your tug o’ war contest. Thor had reached across the bar and grasped the stranger’s wrist, bending it at an awkward angle.
“Let go,” he said, his already deep voice even lower. A growl bubbled in his throat like a storm brewing inside of him.
“Hey, man,” the other gave a nervous giggle. “My bad. I wasn’t trying to steal your mark.”
You screamed when your arm was yanked up, then fell on your ass when your wrist was freed. There were shouts on the other side of the counter, then the loud noise of something crashing on the ground and a scream. You didn’t have the courage to stand up and see what had happened. It took your boss storming in from the backroom and pulling you to your feet while she yelled at the patrons.
“Get out!” She pointed at the scumbag who had harassed you and was now lying on the floor, crawling away from the broken stool just an inch away from him. She then turned to Thor. “You gotta leave too.”
He bristled at her request. “What?! I was defending her!”
“I don’t care. Just be thankful I’m not going to charge you for that stool. Get out before I call the cops.”
Thor’s breathing was labored, his powerful chest and shoulders rising and falling rapidly. He looked from your boss to you, his face contorted into an outraged scowl. He was so large – that had been a plus before, but now something inside you was afraid of his size, of what he could do with it.
With a final heave and a roll of his shoulders, Thor walked out of the bar, stepping over the man on the ground.
Your boss asked you if you needed the rest of the day off, but you declined. If you didn’t have something to occupy yourself you’d mull over what happened before you were ready to do it.
Even busy serving the customers that hadn’t left after that fight, you still found yourself thinking about what was no doubt the end of your relationship with Thor. Maybe he wouldn't even want to see you anymore, after you didn’t back him up. You were thankful for his defending you, but the way he went about doing it… You didn’t feel bad about the harasser, but the wrath in Thor’s eyes was paralyzing. You could barely look at him, let alone defend him.
You finished your shift and dragged yourself out of the building. Just knowing you’d not see Thor that night, that you’d probably never see him again, weighed on you like a ton of bricks. You’d grown more attached than you’d expected. You didn’t see yourself rejecting him if he came to the bar the next day to see you.
You weren’t paying attention as you made your way to your apartment, thus you only noticed the puddle on the ground when you stepped on it. It didn’t feel like rain. The fluid was too tacky for that. You started walking around the puddle and only stopped when you noticed you left a footprint.
Now fully awake, you examined your surroundings. The puddle was coming from an alley, and you couldn't see anything beyond it, but you could hear sounds from the darkness. There was a gurgling like a fountain pumping something thicker than water and a dull scratching. You didn’t know and you didn’t want to know what was hiding in the shadows, but your feet refused to run to safety.
The noises died down, leaving only a slow dripping behind. Something dropped to the ground and footsteps echoed in your direction. You could almost get your legs to move when a hand emerged from the shadows and pulled you in.
A wet palm covered your mouth before you could scream, and you were whirled around and pushed against a wall. You whimpered when your eyes adjusted to the dark and you recognized your captor. You had wanted to see Thor again, but now you weren’t happy to meet him.
“Finally,” he sighed, resting his free hand on your shoulder and letting it slide down your arms. His fingers felt warm and sticky. “I thought you were coming out sooner.”
“What are you doing here?” You tried pulling away and his hand squeezed your arm to the point it hurt.
“Waiting for you,” he frowned. “I’m sorry for how I behaved in the bar, and I’m sorry I rushed things.”
You were about to tell him you didn’t think he’d rushed anything when he adjusted his position and you spotted something on the ground. You thought it was a sack at first – you wanted it to be just a sack – but it was too large and too solid. You didn’t know how you recognized him, with blood staining his clothes and his face beaten into a pulp, but you knew this was the guy who had harassed you in the bar.
Your limbs started shaking. You couldn't tear your eyes from the bloodied corpse. It felt as if something perverse was holding your head in place and your lids wide open. Your lips parted, and even though you didn’t remember using them to say anything you must’ve had, because Thor began speaking again as if answering a question.
“I defended your honor! I thought you might like to watch his last moments, but I couldn't get him to stay alive longer.”
You finally managed to look at him again. The smile on his face turned into a pout when you remained silent.
“What’s the matter?”
You started shaking your head and you couldn't stop. “You killed him. You killed him. Why did you…?” Your voice dwindled to a whine and you didn’t know what you were saying anymore. At the corner of your eyes, you could still see the man lying on the ground. The ex-man. The pile of meat that was walking and talking and breathing just a while ago.
Thor held you by the shoulders as he peered into your eyes. It reminded you of the times he would look at you while you were having sex, too steady and too intense. It was clear now that all those times he’d looked at you, he saw you with feelings much stronger than the ones you had for him. “I was protecting you! I could tell what he wanted just by looking at him. He was a vermin.”
“Please let go of me.”
“No, no!” Thor shook his head and brought you even closer. “I can’t let you go. Do you know how many people like that exist? They’re countless! If you can’t protect yourself, and if none else is going to stand up for you… I felt this was destined, and now I know it is.” He moved his hands to the side of your face and held you in place as he leaned in. “I’m madly in love with you, and I will always protect you.”
He crashed upon you, his lips devouring yours and his body caging you against the brick wall. The taste of iron in his mouth, combined with the awful smell of the alley or the corpse, you couldn't tell, did something to you. Your head pounded and your stomach revolted, but before you could expel all its contents, the floor vanished beneath your feet and the world went dark.
#dark!thor#Dark thor#thor fanfiction#thor x reader#dark!thor x reader#dark thor x reader#mine#dark!fic#MCU fanfiction#dark mcu fanfiction#questofpaintings
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SUMMARY: When Maddie organizes a game night for the firefam and their partners, things between Buck and Eddie change quickly. Nothing a hot shower can't resolve.
FANDOM: 9-1-1 (TV)
RELATIONSHIP: Evan Buckley / Eddie Diaz
WORDS: 3.6k.
First attempt at writing after years, well.... look at what the homosexuals have done to me! [READ ON AO3]
Full story under the cut.
That kiss was a joke, right? Buck could not explain it, but he has never felt that way in a long time. He kept thinking about that kiss with Eddie.
It was an “adult” game night at the 118, and of course, everyone invited their partners: Chimney brought Maddie, Bobby brought Athena, who wasn’t that convinced about that whole thing but agreed after knowing there would have been wine to make things more tolerable, and Hen brought Karen. The only ones left were Buck and Eddie, who were paired together just for the game, making Maddie laugh for almost fifteen minutes at her brother’s expression. They were not a couple, but it was just a night between friends – however, it was strange being the only couple who was not actually a couple at the table. The game became more intense when Maddie, playing truth or dare, dared every couple to kiss for a minute. Hen and Karen did it without hesitation, and after them it was the turn of Bobby and Athena, helped by a glass of good red wine.
“Your turn, Buck,” Maddie said just after having kissed Chimney, smiling as she stared at Buck and Eddie, both red in their faces. Buck was trying to kill her with his look.
“I’m not gonna kiss Eddie for a whole minute. No way.” He protested, still sitting at the table but wanting to disappear from Earth as Eddie, beside him, became more and more silent. Both just wanted to skip that turn, but at the same time they both knew no one there would ever let them do it.
“You have to do it, Buck. It’s the game.” Chimney supported Maddie as always, and just like that he was on Buck’s blacklist too. They were never gonna get invited to anything again.
“It’s not fair, you’re all together. We are not a couple.” Buck kept fighting against the rules and against his own new family, while Eddie was trying not to explode from embarrassment in front of everyone.
“It’s only a game, you don’t have to get married after this!” Hen laughed, followed by Athena and Karen, both drunker than what they would have ever admitted. It was their way to tolerate all of that: wine made things easier, even for Eddie. As a matter of fact, it was Eddie who started it: he chugged down a glass of wine in a few seconds before taking Buck’s head in his hands, whispering a stressed “fuck” as he turned the friend towards him and kissed him. One minute, it was only one minute.
The most intense silence fell in the room: Maddie and Chimney smiled, Athena almost choked herself with an olive as Bobby looked away, while Hen and Karen stared at both of them, interested and entertained. It was the most entertaining thing of the night, after all.
Sure, it was only one minute, but many things can happen in one minute. Eddie closed his eyes just before kissing Buck, who almost stood up and ran away, but it took only a few moments to get used to Eddie’s lips over his mouth. After ten seconds, Buck relaxed his muscles. After thirty seconds, he lifted his arms to put his hand over Eddie’s shoulders. After fifty seconds he was so into that kiss that he almost opened his mouth to get his tongue out.
“One minute!” Interrupted Chimney, with some complaints coming from both Athena and Hen.
“See? It wasn’t that difficult. Good job, brother.” Maddie was kind of involved with all of that, she just waited for the right moment to pull off that card to make everyone kiss, especially his brother and Eddie. She found so frustrating seeing them so close yet so far, every single day. Yes, that game night was just an excuse to bring those two together and with the expert help of Chimney, it finally happened. And it was even better than they thought it would be. Buck was red as the firetruck, Eddie was so quiet as if he weren’t really there.
“I have to go.” Buck did not add anything else, he just walked away from the table and called sick for a few days the next morning.
—
After an entire week had passed, Buck’s mind is still stuck on that kiss, on the feeling of Eddie’s lips over his and how he almost tried to get out his tongue to make that kiss more carnal. What the hell was I thinking? is quite literally the only thought inside Buck’s mind every time he thinks about Eddie, and everything reminds him of that kiss since everything, apparently, reminds him of Eddie Diaz, the hot firefighter who started as an enemy – a rivalry who lasted less than a day.
After just one kiss, Edmundo Diaz was the only thing Evan Buckley was able to think about.
Eddie’s situation is not much better after all: he realized he had kissed Evan with so much passion only a few days later, and he can only think about Buck too.
Buck returned to work after those so-called “sick” days, completely ignoring Eddie and every question about him, even though they had to work together. It was much easier doing that than acknowledge what he had felt during that kiss and what he was still feeling at that moment, just thinking about it.
Having to work with the person you are trying to avoid does not make things easy, and Buck was about to realize it as he went in the showers of the 118. Most of his coworkers have already gone away, but not one in particular, not the one Buck is trying so hard to ignore: Eddie.
“Good job today,” says Eddie, trying to be kind and putting everything in the past like nothing ever happened between the two of them. But he can’t resist. “Listen, Buck, about that—”
“Shut up. I don’t want to talk about it.” Buck shushes him without even raising his eyes. He gets undressed, hops in the shower without saying anything more but his silence does not last that long. “Why did you grab my head to kiss me? They were about to give up and move on. But you kissed me.” now Buck is really looking at Eddie, into his eyes, as if it was an interrogation.
“It was a game. A joke.” Lies. As much as Buck, Eddie knows it wasn’t only a joke: there was something else, something deeper and more powerful. “We’re still friends, right?” he keeps on lying.
“Yeah, right.” a cutting answer leaves Buck’s mouth. Despite his attempts at ignoring him, his eyes keep glaring at Eddie’s body as the water runs down Eddie’s muscular body. Both of them become quiet, but at the same time, they are thinking about the other: especially here, naked, in the shower, with the hands that reach their penis, imagining their “friend” doing the same.
Buck had enough of that: he steps out of his shower only to reach Eddie’s spot, opening the opaque shower door and whispering “My turn” before going in, grabbing Eddie’s face just in the same way as the man did it at game night, kissing him again. Eddie, surprising even himself, kisses back almost immediately, arching his back but staying away from Buck’s wet naked body.
“What did that mean, Buck?” asks Eddie, after the other stopped the kiss. Buck was standing right in front of him, embarrassed – What the fuck did I do? We’re naked! – but knowing that his heart was in the right place and that Eddie owned it.
“I— I don’t know! I can’t stop thinking about that kiss! It was a joke, right? Why did you kiss me? Why everyone wanted us to kiss?”
“It wasn’t a joke, Buck.” Eddie lets out a long sigh, looking at Buck blurting words out without thinking. “It was a kiss, I think your sister made the whole game night up just for that. I have no actual evidence, but I’m pretty sure of that.” he laughs, and Buck immediately calms down a little.
“You think so?” Maddie was behind all of that? Impossible.
“Yeah. But you kissed me again after avoiding me for an entire week. Why?” not that Eddie did not like it, he actually liked it even more than the kiss during the game. Buck is direct, passionate, his kisses make Eddie euphoric, and now he wants to know the reason behind that second kiss.
“I wanted to. I kept thinking about you, your kiss, your lips… and I couldn’t resist any longer.” letting all of that out is like lifting a weight off his chest, he finally admitted his feelings, but he could not even think about other words to say because Eddie pulled him over to kiss him again. This time, however, he doesn’t stay away from Evan’s body, instead, he just pushes himself over Buck.
“We’re in the showers,” Buck says, gasping for air as he puts his hands on Eddie’s hips.
“I know. But there is basically no one at the 118 right now. Be quiet.” And Buck doesn’t question it.
They kiss again, their bodies rubbing one against the other as their tongues were finally together. Buck turns off the water as he pushes Eddie against the wall, rushing to get a hand inside his hair. He cannot believe they are doing that inside the fire station, but it feels so good he cannot stop at just one kiss.
“Fuck me,” Buck whispers at Eddie’s ear just before biting his earlobe, making Eddie jump and shiver with excitement. Their first time together and they are in a shower, not that romantic and not at all as Eddie had imagined – because yes, he had already thought of that, a million possibilities of having sex with Buck, but the showers of the fire station were never part of his dreams.
“Not so fast.” Eddie laughs, bringing one hand around Buck’s dick to massage it and to feel it growing inside his fingers. Hearing Buck moaning is delightful, and it is even better than everything his mind has ever produced. From his explicit request, Buck melts as soon as Eddie grabs his dick to turn him on: in a span of few seconds, Buck is craving Eddie’s hand and tongue, even his teeth on his body. He wants everything Eddie can give him, and the other is more than happy to please him in every way he can.
Buck is so eager to be fucked that he takes Eddie’s hand over his ass, but Eddie takes things slower: he grabs Buck’s left cheek before switching position and pushing him against the wall, with his back towards him so he can take a look at the ass he’s about to fuck. “Such a pretty view.”
“It’s all yours.” Buck moans, pushing up his ass and searching for Eddie’s cock, which is now stiff and hard just as Buck’s dick. Eddie doesn’t know whether or not Buck has been fucked before, but he doesn’t want to waste time asking that: instead, he gets on his knees in front of his ass and spreads Buck’s cheeks apart to see his hole. Without hesitating he gets his tongue right in the middle, rubbing the tip over his tight opening: it was clear that Buck was never the slutty bottom he was in that moment with him. And he likes that. Buck shivers and moans again, closing his eyes and even his mouth when Eddie interrupts the rimming only to shush him: after all, they are still in a public place, sort of.
Eddie nudges with his tongue inside Buck, just to try things out, and the muffled moan that leaves Buck’s mouth makes him smile. He is doing the right thing and, most importantly, he has not lost his touch after all those years without another body between his hands. After playfully biting his left cheek, Eddie stands up and gets closer to Buck’s body: his hard cock pressed against Buck’s ass, which is almost begging to get pounded at this time. Buck’s eyes confirm that feeling, but he is not ready yet.
“Get on your knees.” Eddie insists and Buck, moaning a complaint, obeys once again. Seeing Eddie’s shaft right in front of his eyes is something else: a long and slightly curved cock, with a red tip and throbbing veins that tempt him. Instinctively, Buck gets his hand around it, looking up at Eddie to have some kind of confirmation, and after a simple look, he starts jerking him off. It is not the first time for Buck to jerk a cock different than the one he has between his legs, but it is the first time with Eddie, and this first time is quite special. Buck licks his lips, preparing his mouth as he gets closer and closer to Eddie.
When Eddie feels Buck’s tongue around his head, he squints his eyes, holding out his arm to get the hand against the wall. He smiles happily and breathes heavily, encouraging Buck as he passes the other hand through his hair.
“You’re not just good at kissing, apparently…” Eddie pushes his hips forward, forcing Buck to take all his length in his mouth. Not easy, but he manages to take it. Buck keeps licking and sucking, swirling his tongue around Eddie’s dick, and lifting his arm to get his hand over Eddie’s pecs. He grabs it, pinching his nipple as he blows him.
“Some more… Get that tongue around it.” Now the only thing Buck can think about is Eddie’s pleasure and the taste of his precum that goes down his throat. Oh, how much he missed that.
Eddie must stop himself from moaning and from thrusting his erection inside Buck’s mouth. Fortunately, it is Buck himself that brings new rhythm to that blowjob, going faster and faster as his saliva drips down from his chin.
“Stop. Stop— Fuck.” Eddie pulls away from Buck’s mouth, who stays right there with his lips open and his tongue out, inviting Eddie to give him his cock again.
“I want more.” Please, he adds in his head.
“You’re so eager.” Eddie laughs, but he nods. Grabbing the base of his cock he rubs his entire length over Buck’s face, slapping his cheeks and then his mouth with it. “Like that?”
“Yes.” Buck keeps trying to catch it with his mouth, but Eddie does not give him any chance. But they are in the shower without any lube or protection, so Buck’s saliva is the best thing he’ll ever get. Eddie grabs firmly Buck’s hair to hold his head and shoves his cock inside his mouth up until the base. His testicles rubbing Buck’s chin.
Eddie keeps a hand over his own mouth to keep himself quiet, he is finally minutes away from fucking Evan and he won’t allow anyone to walk in on them at that moment. “Fuck. Stand up. Now.”
As soon as Buck stands up, Eddie kisses him again to feel his own taste mixed with the other’s saliva.
“Turn around.” Buck was waiting just for that. He presses his face against the wall, spreads his legs, and pushes his hips out. With the help of his hands, then, he spreads his cheeks to show off his pink and almost untouched hole.
With a hand over Buck’s mouth, Eddie rubs his cock between the cheeks, spitting on it himself to get more lube as possible. It was not going to be easy, but he knows Buck can take it.
“Ready?” he pushes the tip against his hole without putting it in.
“Mh–mh.” Buck nods, rubbing his ass over Eddie’s erection. It is bigger than Buck expected, but after all, if he took it all inside his mouth, why wouldn’t he be able to take it up his ass? He is ready.
Slowly, Eddie’s cock slides inside. Buck’s muscles contract around the head even if he knows he has to relax them, but the last time he had a real cock inside him was such a long ago. Eddie makes sure that he is not hurting him, but he carefully keeps going watching every move Buck makes. He is tight, warm, and perfect. After a while, Eddie’s cock is all inside him and Buck can feel Eddie’s testicles against his ass. Both moan simultaneously, Eddie leans over Buck to kiss his shoulder.
“Don’t worry. I’m gonna go slow.”
“Don’t—” Buck takes away Eddie’s hand to talk. “Fuck me for real.” Eddie is not surprised; Buck always wants everything immediately. This time, however, Eddie was not going to roll his eyes and complain: Buck will get what he asks.
He starts with small thrusts to get Buck’s hole used to his cock, but as soon as he feels that there isn’t much resistance from Buck and especially after he sees pleasure taking over Buck’s face, he knows he can start fucking him just as his man asked.
The thrusts get faster and heavier, his hips smash against Buck’s cheeks as both of them try not to moan and scream for pleasure. After all, none of them had sex in a long time. Buck takes his arms back to grabs Eddie to pull him over him so he can kiss him: it is his way to shut himself up, or else he is gonna scream.
Eddie follows him happily, kissing him as he keeps moving in and out of him, feeling his muscles squeezing his cock. He is not gonna last very long as he wants, but he does not care. Having Buck all for himself feels amazing, he finally knows how his hole feels like, how he moans, how his eyes look when he is being fucked: so many questions now finally have an answer.
“Please…” Buck moans as his hand reaches for his erection, stroking himself with the help of Eddie’s thrusts. Eddie cannot hear him begging like this and not pounding him harder: his hands tightly grab Buck’s shoulder, pushing his cock inside his hole that is now used to being spread apart. Buck cannot help but moan harder and harder, and Eddie has to put a hand over his mouth once again: they cannot be seen like this, not when he’s close to breed him.
Buck’s moans die against Eddie’s fingers, that the man starts inserting into his mouth to make him suck them. It feels amazing how Buck’s muscles surround his throbbing dick, and the orgasm gets closer with each thrust.
“I’m gonna fill you up…” Eddie whispers at Buck’s ear, which quivers at the idea, but has something else in mind.
“No. I want to taste you.” With a smirk on his face, Buck turns his head behind as much as he can to make eye contact with his friend, even though it seems strange to call Eddie like that while his dick is hitting his prostate.
“As you wish.” Eddie can feel his pleasure rise each second; his dick is begging him to let the cum fill up Buck’s hole, but he wants to please his colleague. After that, he pulls out. “Get on your knees, fast!” as he jerks off to keep the orgasm coming. Buck obeys and gets his face right under Eddie’s dick, keeping his eyes up so the other man can see how much he loves all of that.
Eddie’s loads hit Buck’s face fast: they are warm, white, and most importantly there is so much cum coming out of that cock that Buck is not sure he could have kept it in his mouth. The first loads hit even Buck’s hair, but when Eddie has finally finished, Buck’s face is covered in cum he keeps licking his lips to catch what he can to taste his load. Eddie stands in front of him, amazed at what Buck can become during sex, but he doesn’t stay frozen, instead, he grabs the base of his cock and uses it to push his own load towards Buck’s mouth, cleaning his face at the same time.
“Fuck, you really like that…” and he likes it too. Eddie gets on his knees too to kiss Buck’s face and lips, tasting his own load from his skin as he gets one hand over Buck’s cock to jerk him off and help him finish.
“Eddie…” Buck moans, shoving his dirty face into Eddie’s shoulders as the man massages his throbbing cock. It doesn’t take long anyway, after less than a minute Buck shoots his thick load that hits Eddie’s body and then the rest slides down Eddie’s hand. Without any hesitation, when Buck has finished Eddie lifts his hand to lick it clean in front of Buck who watches the scene, speechless.
“You taste good,” Eddie says, before kissing him and pushing him against the wall again, even if they are now sitting on the shower floor, he does not want to stop kissing him. Eddie has waited for too long for that, he doesn’t want to waste any minute or any second away from Buck’s perfect body.
“Next time you’ll top.” It is just a whisper that leaves Eddie’s mouth, but Buck is already smiling at the idea: one of his hand reaches Eddie’s ass to grab his cheek, but Eddie immediately slaps his hand. “I said next time. Now, you’re mine.”
What started as a game night evolved in some rough, enticing and heated sex between two so-called ‘friends’ that now are probably more than just that. It is with a soft kiss, especially compared to everything they have done until that moment, that Eddie stands up and gets Buck to stand up as well. A new shower starts, but this time they are in the same spot, helping the other with soap and of course teasing each other. After all, it was only the first of many showers together.
#911 fic#911edit#thebuddielibrary#buddie fic#buddieedit#dailybuck#daily911#usercaptainflint#userthai#tusera#userchuffed#tarlosbuddie#useralie#userkourt#evan buckley#eddie diaz#911 fanfiction#my fics#eddiediazdaily#sorry for the tags i don't know how fics on tumblr work lmao#it's my first fic since 2014 probably#AND my first fic in english#i'm gonna pretend i've never wrote this thing if y'all hate it
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Love
Fandom: The Witcher
Pairing: Ciri & Eskel (Platonic/Familial), Geralt/Eskel, Lambert/Aiden
Rating: T
Masterlist
a/n: No request this time, just wanted to write something soft.
thanks to @sometimesiwrite for being a great beta/idea machine/friend :)
(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)
Warnings: language, softer than a freshly washed puppy, ~yearning~
Ciri asks about love.
“Hey, Uncle Eskel?”
Ciri’s voice, smooth and level with her age, rings over the ramparts from which Eskel currently hangs. Vesemir has given them all a chore for the afternoon, and Eskel is finishing closing a gaping maw in the structure of the inner wall of the keep. He is just barely perched on a scaffold, reaching to place the last stone in a spot that’s *just* outside of his reach.
Eskel turns to look down at Ciri, her ashen hair shining bright in the waning sun. He huffs as the breeze catches his dark hair and flops it down into his eyes. Ciri giggles, a sweet sound that she has yet to grow out of. Gods, I hope she never does, Eskel thinks.
“Yes, Swallow?” Eskel is pretty proud that of all the dumb things Lambert and Geralt tried to nickname Ciri, his was the one that stuck.
Ciri crosses her arms over her chest, looking all the world like Geralt whenever he has his mind set on something that is almost certainly an inconvenience for Eskel. “After supper, I would appreciate your insight on some personal matters.” Ciri winks, her proper tone eclipsed by a chuckle just under her breath.
Eskel grins a bit, thinking back on their previous discussions. She’s grown up quite a bit, still on the earlier side of twenty, but her mind is sharp as a blade, and her tongue even sharper. “Of course, it would be an honor.” Eskel bows where he hangs, making his position even more precarious. He hears the quick intake of breath from Ciri and sits back up, smiling wide even as his scar pulls at his lip.
“Don’t worry, little one,” Eskel says, switching the stone to his other hand before leaning back to the hole. “You’ll not get rid of me that easily.”
Shortly after, Eskel and Ciri get to the supper table just as Lambert is serving. He’s on cooking duty all week, which works out well for everyone. He’s got the most agreeable palette, and he uses it well. However, next in the rotation is Geralt. He has the most sensitive nose out of all of them so he doesn’t season, and can’t cook a bird for shit. Eskel plans on appreciating his younger brother’s cooking as much as he can before the next week of bland meat and undercooked bread.
“Eat up, fuckers.” Lambert sets a large dish on the table, a hearty roast full of venison and root vegetables that had been stored away before the frost set in. A layer of lightly spiced shortcrust covers the top, and is served alongside tankards of ale and a hunk of dark bread.
“Smells delicious, Lambert,” Ciri calls after his retreating form. Eskel sees how the tips of his ears blush as he pours some of his “vodka” (which is really just shitty leftover potion water) into his tankard, but Eskel only smiles down into his plate. Vesemir joins them too, and the four of them tuck into the generous offering.
Their peace is short-lived though, cut off by the abrupt clang of the great doors flying open. Geralt stomps into the common area where they all sit, and Eskel wrinkles his nose. Geralt is soaked head to toe, and he smells like a mix between a decaying fish and a little bit of vomit after too much spicy food.
Lambert clearly picks up on it too, offering Geralt a sip of his drink. “Drowner duty?”
Geralt grunts as he sits across from Ciri, bumping Eskel’s shoulder as he helps himself to the dinner. Geralt moans a bit as he takes the first bite, and Eskel shudders at the sound. He’s always been weak for Geralt’s voice, especially with how rarely he actually uses it.
They eat quickly now, forced to scarf it down in an effort to escape the devastating scent that Geralt brought to the table. Eskel drains the last of his ale and grabs an apple, slicing it in half and handing some to Ciri. She whips out her own dagger and cuts away the core before portioning it neatly into several smaller mouthfuls.
Geralt sighs before pushing himself to stand, a whole new waft of nauseating aroma settling with the sudden movement. “I’m going to wash.”
“Thank Melitele’s sweet tits, I thought you were just gonna make that part of your ~look~ now, pretty boy.” Lambert leans back with his boots kicked up on the table, carving a crude drawing into a pear from the table. Geralt walks quietly away from the table before turning abruptly and swinging his leg wide, catching Lambert’s chair and yanking it out from under him. He flails wildly before his ass hits the ground and he turns to grab at Geralt’s ankle. But he has already torn off towards the baths, and Lambert huffs before scrabbling to his feet and chasing after him, his pear long forgotten.
Vesemir sighs in the now much quieter room, also standing and picking up his plate. “Well done on that wall today Eskel. Looks much better.”
“Thanks, wasn’t anything too difficult.”
“Maybe so, but I still appreciate it.” Eskel smiles as Vesemir walks away, letting himself revel in the praise for a moment.
Ciri clears her throat, bringing Eskel back to the matter at hand. “Library?” She asks, and Eskel nods. He takes Ciri’s plate and sets them into the washbasin for a later time. They trek up the stairs and push open the heavy wooden door. Eskel lights the fire with a flick of his fingers and the room instantly warms, the air light and swirling around them.
Eskel watches as Ciri plops down onto the dense fur in front of the fire, warming her hands as the orange light dances over her face. He walks over to his trusty copy of the Beastiary, only to pick it up and find it much lighter than he would expect. He opens it, and instead of his glass bottle of White Gull, there is a note in the hollowed-out hole.
‘Maybe pick a less obvious hiding place, douche-canoe.’
The handwriting is scrappy and small, just like the younger witcher that wrote it. Eskel sighs before turning to another bookcase, finding a heavy tome that Jaskier had left for him a few years prior. He flips this one open and finds two small flasks of Toussaint wine, which is certainly better than nothing.
Eskel walks silently over to Ciri and hands her one of the glasses before sprawling out beside her. They sit in silence for a while, as has become tradition while Ciri gathers her thoughts. They both sip at the wine, and Eskel needs to remember to write a letter to Jaskier at Oxenfurt for saving his ass tonight.
“I have to warn you Eskel,” Ciri murmurs, and Eskel looks over to her with a crook of his brow. “This isn’t going to be an easy one.”
Eskel hums, taking another sip of wine. “Never is, kid.”
Ciri takes in a deep breath, steeling herself with a long chug of the alcohol in her grasp. “How do you know if you’re in love with someone?”
Eskel’s eyes widen imperceptibly, and he can feel how his heart skips a beat. “Damn Ciri,” he chuckles, “you weren’t kidding when you said this wouldn’t be easy.”
Ciri only shrugs with a smirk. Eskel shifts a bit, partially to get himself more comfortable, and partially to give himself more time to think. He can only wiggle around for so long before it gets weird for everyone though, so he just ends up tucking his legs underneath him and taking another long drink of wine.
“Well, I-”
“Have you ever been in love, Eskel?” Ciri turns to him, her bright gaze shocking on even the best days. Now they bore straight through Eskel, and he feels like she is peeling away the layers of mortar he has so carefully laid around his heart for the past, oh, century or so. Eskel thinks back, trying to remember the moment that he knew what love was.
And then he tries to figure out how to tell Ciri that he knows what love is like because of her father. Geralt showed him what it was like to feel out of breath whenever they were more than a hairs’ breadth apart. And then the all-encompassing relief that sang through his bones whenever they reunited. They showed each other how to accept this part of their lives that had been so desperately ignored, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
But that’s a lot. Geralt is terrible with words and feelings, and Eskel is not much better. Ciri looks at him expectantly, with all of the air of royalty running low on patience. Ciri is eternally patient though, especially with all of the practice she has had with Geralt.
Eskel is just about to open his mouth when he hears stomping down the hallway, and he waits until Lambert pushes open the old door with enough force to send the snow into an avalanche over the mountains. He, now, is soaking wet, though instead of drowner guts he only smells of the clean mineral water that flows into the springs beneath the keep. Eskel smirks up at him as he traipses over to where the two of them sit, dropping himself unceremoniously into one of the soft chairs that rests not far from the fire. “Geralt throw you in?”
Lambert hums in the affirmative, seemingly harboring no further ill-will towards him. “What are you two chucklefucks talking about?”
Ciri pipes up, seemingly (for whatever reason) interested in Lambert’s opinion. “I asked Eskel what it feels like to be in love.”
Lambert’s face looks as though he was just violently slapped with a fish, glancing over to Eskel who only offers a shrug in return. Eskel is expecting a long-winded rant about how ‘Witchers don’t love, it makes you soft, and a soft Witcher is a dead Witcher…’ blah blah blah, but that’s not what he gets. Instead, Lambert kind of sinks further into his seat and his eyes turn tender, and Eskel realizes that he’s getting a glimpse into the Lambert that the world so rarely sees.
“Wanna know what I think about love, little beetle butt?”
Ciri nods, turning more fully towards Lambert. Eskel does the same, curious to see what his youngest brother has to say. Eskel holds out his half-empty flask, handing it to Lambert in a silent offer of support. Lambert drains the remainder of the wine in one gulp, the bastard, before he smiles a bit as he loses himself in his thoughts.
“I think that love is-” Lambert sighs, searching for the right words, “love is indescribable. You don’t know what it is until you have it, and then you never want to let it go.”
Eskel nods at Lambert’s words, letting them resonate in his mind. He never quite feels right anymore without Geralt at his side, his body and soul yearning for their other half in a way that cannot be depicted with mere words.
“Ciri, I haven’t got a clue about whatever you’ve got going on,” Lambert wags his finger in the air, and Eskel can see just how influenced the youngest of them was by Vesemir. “But life, especially human life, is too short to dwell on shit that will fester and bubble under your skin if you don’t let it out.”
“But how do I know?” Ciri whispers, and Eskel’s heart breaks for her. Gods, he has spent decades asking himself that exact same question, and he still doesn’t really have an answer.
“You’ll know when it’s not a question anymore.” Lambert stares off into the fire, watching the flames lick up into the air, chasing the wayward embers into the dark of the ceiling. Eskel is kind of stuck, Lambert’s words ringing through his head. When it’s not a question anymore. Fuck, when did the little prick actually get smart?
Ciri rolls over, pressing a gentle kiss to Eskel’s cheek, right over the angriest of his scars. “Thank you, Uncle Eskel. And you, Uncle Lambert,” she gives him a kiss on the cheek as well, and leaves them alone to their thoughts.
Eskel looks over at Lambert, seeing in bright relief the decades that have worn this man raw, and wonders just how he can still have room for love in his heart. “Who is it?”
Lambert sighs, hanging his head a bit. “I met him on the Path. We’ve been...traveling together now for a couple of years. He’s uh-he’s the best man I’ve ever met.”
Eskel smiles wide once more, scooching closer to where Lambert sits. “I’m happy for you, Wolf. Why haven’t you told us?”
“He’s another Witcher, and a Cat no less.” Eskel blinks at this, but the way that Lambert looks at him, vulnerable and exposed, shuts up any errant thoughts he may have had. “Besides, like you have room to talk. You’ve been pining after Geralt for how long? A century? Two?”
Eskel throws his shoe at Lambert, catching him on the shoulder. Fuck, I need to work on my aim. “Shut up. I’m working on it.”
Lambert scoffs as he stands up, chucking Eskel’s boot back over his shoulder. “Right, well. Once you figure it out, let me know. By that point, I’ll be retired on the coast with a whorehouse next door. You’ll know where to find me.”
Lambert is almost to the door when Eskel’s arms wrap around him, strong enough to bruise a rib if he wasn’t a Witcher. “Shit, Eskel! Let go of me, you great oaf!”
Eskel gives one last squeeze before he relents, grabbing Lambert by the arm before he can take off running. “Thank you, Lambert, and I promise. I won’t tell anyone before you’re ready.”
Lambert glances down to the ground with a great breath in, his golden eyes catching Eskel’s when they return. “Thanks, brother.”
“Of course, Wolf.”
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Turn Into the Noise - Nixon
Summary: In 1942, a female soldier, Alice Crowley, joined the ranks of Easy Company at Camp Toccoa. Nixon tries to cope with his growing feelings for the woman throughout the war, but is forced to deal with her budding relationship with Spiers.
Warnings: brief mentions of assault, descriptions of a concentration camp, alcohol abuse.
A/N: This is part of a series I’ve been writing on and off for about...geez, maybe 4 or 5 years now. I had planned on waiting until I was finished writing all of the chapters to post them, since I wanted them read in a specific order (they’re written by character, rather than in chronological order, with each chapter being about the relationship between the chosen character and my OC). I realized I might never get a chance to finish it all the way I want, but I’ve always been happy with this chapter - it’s also the only one I’ve managed to finish. This is the first time I’ve posted any writing on tumblr, too! There are some jokes/references that will make more sense once the other chapters are posted.
Words: 16 820 (it’s a long one)
Pairing: Speirs x OFC, Nixon x OFC
***
I was three days in on a drunken sin
I didn’t much care how long I lived
But I swear I thought I dreamed her
She never asked me once about the wrong I did
- (The Work Song, Hozier)
7th May, 1945
Berchtesgaden, Germany
_________________
They sat out on the terrace with bottles of expensive champagne, celebrating a victory that had been a long-time in the making, and after spending the better part of three years playing their own parts in achieving it, the spoils they now reaped were all the sweeter.
Nixon lay back on one of the chaise lounges, his arms resting behind his head as he took in the stunning views around them. On the next chaise over, Harry Welsh grinned as he chugged from his bottle of champagne, embracing the joy of the moment, thoroughly drunk. He glanced over at the man seated at the end of the lounge by his feet. Speirs had barely taken his eyes off Alice since Winters had announced the German army’s surrender. The lieutenant herself was staring out across the vast, mountainous landscape, deep in thought.
“You two set a date yet?” Harry asked them, hiccuping as he glanced between the pair. He thought of the girl waiting for him back home and set his bottle down on the table beside him. He hadn’t thought he could feel any happier than he already did, but recalling the glowing face of his beautiful fiancee the last time he had made love to her gave him a surge of joy he had forgotten was possible.
“Yeah, June 6th,” Alice deadpanned, turning back to them, glancing first at Nixon. He stared ahead with a grin, shaking his head.
Laughing more than the joke merited in his drunken state, Harry reached once more for his alcohol and sent the bottle crashing to the marble below. “Oops,” he said, laughing all the more.
From his position by the balustrade, Winters tried his best to throw the man a disapproving look, but his small, signature smile gave him away. This was one of the happiest days of their young lives – knowing that the long years of training and fighting – the pain they had endured, the friends they had lost – it was all somehow worth it.
Harry reached for the bottle in Speirs’s hand and the captain held it out of his reach. “Get your own.” He looked up as he felt the bottle pulled from his grip regardless, and watched his bride-to-be take a long drink of the golden liquid. She smirked as she drank, and tipped him wink, reveling in the smile that her small rebellion had managed to draw from him; his wild, brown eyes still filled with a lust they had yet to sate.
Though even the privates had managed to find time to bed the local women, fortune had never smiled on the two officers. They had either been too busy leading the men, planning and executing orders, or simply finding time somewhere in between for the most basic of needs, like eating, showering and sleeping. Not to mention keeping their relationship under tight wraps – fraternization was a punishable offence, and there was no question that either one of them, or both, would have been sent home if anything had gotten back to the colonel.
It hadn’t been too hard to hide – Lieutenant Crowley treated all the men the same, never showing favoritism, even when rank was involved. She had always held onto the belief that respect was something to be earned, not forcibly given, and her time at Toccoa with Captain Sobel had only strengthened that belief. She cared for every single one of the men she had served with – Speirs just happened to be the one she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.
She frowned to herself now as she found her beverage depleted, upending the bottle just to be sure. Catching the original owner’s look of annoyance, she placed a hand on his shoulder and grinned.
“There’s plenty more,” she reassured him. Her fingers brushed against his neck briefly as she passed by and he smiled once more. “Anyone else while I’m up?” She looked to Winters, who shook his head.
“I- Um, me. Please,” Harry requested, but she shot him a look.
“I think you’ve had enough, Welshy.”
“What?” he attempted to argue.
She glanced down at the shattered remains of his last bottle. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”
“I don’t think I’ll be the one thanking you in the morning,” he chuckled to himself, seemingly proud of his little joke. He looked over at Speirs and the laughter died from his face as he caught the dark glint in the captain’s eyes. He had to be drunk to make a comment so suggestive. Hiccupping again, he looked back at Alice and found she wore an almost identical expression.
“I’m gonna let that one slide, given the circumstances,” she told him, and he seemed grateful for the gesture, knowing her reputation well, “But thank-you for proving my point.” She stopped by the last person in line. “Nix?”
He shielded his eyes and squinted up at her. “Mm?”
“You want anything?”
He caught the little crease that appeared between her brows as he stared at her, taking too long to answer.
“You know what? I think I’ll come take a look with you,” he smiled, getting to his feet. “You always did make volunteering for things look like fun.”
Speirs turned to shoot her a subtle look and Alice gave a reassuring little smile. He was worried. She didn’t blame him after what had happened the last time she and Lewis Nixon had found themselves alone together.
*
“Where we headin’, Crow?”
Alice turned to give her helper an odd look as they walked through the living room of Hitler’s favorite retreat. Nixon had never once called her by her company nickname. It was the only sign he had given that he was even remotely drunk.
“What?” he asked with a playful grin, but she just shook her head.
“Kitchen. I think I saw some bottles in there.”
“God, I wish I’d taken you to see Goering’s wine cellar.”
“Why’s that?”
“I could have used the extra pair of hands.”
She chuckled. “I never took you for the looting type.
“I wasn’t looting,” he replied, with a teasing frown, “I was liberating the bottles from their shelves.”
She threw him a disapproving look for his choice of words, and paused to survey the surrounding cabinets and the pantry at the rear. Most of it had been picked clean by the other soldiers as they had made themselves at home in the place; but the alcohol was making her hungry, and the effect of the beverage was hitting her much harder than usual for the same reason.
“You hungry?” she asked.
“Why? You gonna whip me something up?”
“Yeah, well now that the war’s over, I thought I’d better put myself back in my place.”
He laughed and watched her pull open a cupboard door.
“Goddammit. Beans! I’m sick to death of fucking beans!”
She slammed the cupboard door closed.
“You know, I heard someone say Hitler was a vegetarian,” Nixon told her.
“No shit?”
“Yeah. He didn’t smoke or drink, either.”
“Christ, no wonder he started a war. Too much time on his hands.”
He chuckled. “Explains how I keep so busy.”
While Alice continued her search, Nixon grabbed a few of the bottles that sat grouped on the counter. When he turned back, he found her leaning against the opposite counter looking thoughtful.
“Hey, Nix?”
His eyebrow quirked up as he approached her.
“Yeah?”
“Say you were to get a certain…invitation. In the mail.”
“Mm?” he teased, knowing exactly where she was going before she even asked. He leaned back on the counter beside her and watched with a small smile as she struggled to find the right way to ask.
“Would you come to the wedding?”
“Depends whose it is,” he joked, his smile widening to a grin when she rolled her eyes. “Sounds mighty mysterious to me.” Then she turned her gaze back to him and he felt the same uncomfortable flip in his stomach he had gotten the night he had landed himself in trouble with her. He had thought the feeling had gone away – but it was proving to be like a cancer; coming back just as it seemed to be cured. He caught her eyebrow twitch and realized she was still waiting for an answer. “Of course I would come.”
She smiled, looking almost relieved. “Good. That’s…that’s good. I’m glad.”
And he knew it wasn’t just about the wedding. It was her relief in knowing things were okay between them. He had been one of the first people to welcome her at Toccoa; the first to make her feel welcome. He had been the one stupid enough to put that friendship on the line, yet here she was making the effort to make things right.
“You might have some trouble during the ‘Speak now, or forever hold your peace’ part, though,” he joked, wondering just how much he actually meant it. “Are you sure you want me there?”
“No, I just thought I’d send out a bunch of invitations to people I don’t want there. You, Sobel, Dike…”
He let out a good laugh at that and she screwed up her face.
“God, it doesn’t feel right putting you on a list with those men.”
They smiled at each other, then her gaze shot to the doorway where Speirs was standing, and some of the humor died from her face. Every time he looked at her when she was in Lewis Nixon’s company, she felt as if she had been caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar.
“Get what you need?” he asked her, glancing briefly at Nixon.
“We were just on our way back.” She plucked a bottle of champagne from Nixon’s hand and tossed it to him. Even in his semi-drunken state, the captain managed to catch it – just. “I believe I owed you half a bottle.”
“This is a full bottle,” Speirs pointed out, with a smile Nixon found odd, but Alice had come to find endearing; it was just another of the man’s many quirks that she had grown to love.
“So just drink half,” she replied with a crooked grin.
Smiling to himself, his mind swallowed up with thoughts like crashing waves, Nixon suddenly realized why Speirs had come to check on them. He had always found it amusing how possessive the man became when Alice was around him – and it was only ever when she was around him; Nixon had never seen the captain act that way when she was around the other men of Easy Company. To him it almost suggested that there really was something dangerous between them. Maybe Speirs sensed some competition. But there really was no competition – Alice had made that very clear to him on that fateful night. He hated to think about what he had done to her, almost as much as he hated to think back to what he still considered to be the single worst week of his life. He had made it through D-Day, had shivered his way through the snowy forests of Bastogne; still, nothing compared to that one day back in Landsberg, when all the events of that week had culminated into one stupid decision that had nearly cost him the friendship of a good woman.
***
25th April ,1945
Heidelberg, Germany
_________
“Hey, you’re back!”
Normally, hearing her voice and seeing that sly grin would have lifted his spirits; but as he stepped out of the building Winters had designated Battalion HQ, Nixon couldn’t even muster up a smile. She climbed the stairs, pausing on the step just below him to take a seat on the slanting concrete balustrade, arms folded across her chest.
“How was the jump?” she asked, her voice a little softer now as her piercing green eyes searched his, sensing his mood.
He was silent for a moment, then shook his head. She nodded, reading his answer loud and clear.
“You want coffee?”
He gave a soft snort and finally a small smile appeared. “Yeah. Coffee sounds good.” The words felt forced. He would have loved even more to get blind drunk and pass out in his bed, but just couldn’t find it in him to turn down a drink in her company.
Moments later, he was seated out the front of the building that was serving as the company supply store, staring at the surrounding ruins of bombed-out buildings. He heard the distinct voices of George Luz and Alice as they argued over something trivial, the dispute peppered with occasional bouts of laughter. When she finally returned, Alice was smiling and shaking her head, a steaming metal cup in each hand. She passed one to him and sat down beside him. Taking a sip, he glanced down at the contents as an odd taste hit his tongue.
“What’s in this?”
She glanced over, fighting back a smirk. “A pinch of love, a dash of devotion...”
“Ah, that’s why I didn’t recognize it. Two ingredients my wife’s never used.”
“I’ll pass on the recipe.”
He chuckled and met her gaze, holding it for a moment as all thoughts of the woman back home melted away.
“I made yours Irish,” she finally explained, “You look like hell, Nix. What happened?”
His smile fell away and he stared out at the rubble once more. He looked as if he had aged years, despite having only been in combat for several months; his once handsome face now pale and drawn, a stark contrast against his dark hair and brows. Alice recognized the signs of battle fatigue when she saw them, having witnessed it many times in the freezing cold Hell of Bastogne: the listlessness, the irritability, the vacant stares, and the dark circles around once playful eyes.
“Plane went down. I made it out with two other men. That’s it. Now, it’s up to me to write letters to all mothers of the men who didn’t make it off. Make it sound like their deaths were worth it, somehow.”
“Isn’t that their CO’s job?”
He simply shook his head. The CO hadn’t made it either.
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Pretty much. Oh, plus I’ve just been told I’ve been demoted, so there’s that.”
He took a long sip of his coffee, not caring that it scalded his throat on the way down, desperate to work the added alcohol into his system.
She had a pretty good idea why he had received such a harsh penalty, and suddenly felt guilty for adding the whiskey to his drink. “Shit, I’m sorry, Lew.”
He glanced over at her and managed a small smile. It was oddly refreshing to hear a woman cuss the way she did. He had become so accustomed to the ‘proper’ women his mother and father invited around for their dinner parties, and their high teas, and their little meetings for whichever new club or association they happened to have joined. The women who wore their hair in the latest styles, dressed in the finest clothes with their little matching purses and shoes. Women who gossiped about women who dressed the same way they did and went to the same meetings and events they did, but somehow managed to find themselves ostracized for one imagined faux pas or another. And then there was Katherine. He felt the bile rise in his throat as he thought of the woman he had married. Straight out of college, they had fallen into bed and then quickly into what they had believed was a loving relationship. Looking back, he wasn’t sure if love had ever been there to begin with.
“Really hasn’t been your week.”
“No,” he replied bitterly, “That it has not.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Alice had never been good at knowing the right thing to say, and though she held a lot of love for the man beside her, she couldn’t think of an appropriate way to voice it. It had taken her a long time to work out her feelings towards him, mistaking them at first for genuine adoration; she enjoyed his company, she cared about him immensely, and she knew if it came down to it, she would take a bullet for him – but then that went for every man in her company. The biggest difference, as she had come to find, was the attraction. Even now, sitting next to him, knowing what he had been through, knowing that he was married, she felt the urge to comfort him in a more physical way. She drove the thought from her mind.
It wasn’t until the following day, when Nixon received his long-expected ‘Dear John’ letter, that Alice witnessed him let loose an unbridled tirade of frustration. She had never seen such a raw display of emotion from the man, and the look of concern from his best friend – Major Winters – only drove home just how deep Nixon’s problems went.
It wasn’t long after that they bundled into their jeeps and troop carriers, and drove on to their next destination along the Rhine. Alice stood at the rear of her own vehicle, half-tuned in to the conversations going on between the men behind her, the other half of her focused on the car behind them that carried Winters, Nixon and Speirs. Speirs had offered her the seat next to him, but she had declined, opting to travel with the rest of the troops, where she had always felt most comfortable. Looking back at them now, she noticed Nixon’s gaze was unfocused, his expression blank. She glanced over at Speirs and he smiled at her. She returned the gesture as best she could and then turned away, running her fingers back through her hair with a sigh before replacing her helmet.
“I’m gonna find me a nice Jewish girl,” Liebgott was saying, “with great big, soft titties and a smile to die for, marry her, then I’m gonna buy a house. A big house with lots of bedrooms for all the little Liebgott’s we’re gonna be making. She oughta like that. Hey, lieutenant, it’s a shame you’re not Jewish.”
“Yeah, I’m missin’ out big time,” Alice joked absentmindedly, her brow still marked with a troubled frown. A few of the men chuckled, Liebgott included, but having known her since Camp Toccoa, he knew when something was awry.
“Hey, Al,” came Luz’s voice now, full of mischief, “Get this, right? Janovec here’s readin’ an article says the Germans are bad. Can you believe that?” He grinned at her expectantly, waiting for the witty retort she never failed to provide.
The lieutenant threw them a look of mock-concern. “Gee, Janovec, I think you oughta tell Eisenhower. You might be onto something there.”
Luz laughed and gave the private beside him and playful whack, but seated across from him, Liebgott still hadn’t lost his look of unease.
“Whatta you got planned for when you get back, lieutenant?” he asked her, hoping to distract her from whatever thoughts were bogging her down.
Her eyes flicked over to him and she considered the question. “You mean if I make it back.”
“That’s just Speirs talking,” Webster remarked with a grin. She looked to him, smirked, and cocked an eyebrow, before considering Liebgott’s question some more. Of course, she knew very well what she would be doing, but she wasn’t in a place to reveal that information just yet.
“You know me, Lieb, I never have a plan. I make it up as I go.”
He smiled at the reply, but others weren’t so satisfied with the response.
“You mean you’re not gonna marry– ”
“Who, Janovec?” she cut him off quickly, her expression suddenly severe. One look at her sharp eyes and the private swallowed the rest of the question and dropped his gaze.
“No one, ma’am.”
The men who knew her best exchanged looks, struggling to hold back smirks, and she looked around at them, her look of warning softening. She turned back to the jeep. Speirs was observing the surrounding landscape and Winters was reading through some papers with his usual look of steady focus, but Nixon had finally managed to shift his gaze to meet hers. It still held that vacant quality from earlier, but underneath that she could see the turmoil he was going through, and the contrast from his usual jovial self was painful to witness.
*
She found him later, in a rare moment of free time as the division settled into the town of Buchloe for the night, not far from their intended destination.
“You can always get another dog, Nix.”
He chuckled, but it was tinged with a hollow bitterness. Sitting beside him, allowing him a minute to gather his thoughts, Alice put a hand on the back of his neck and massaged gently – an instinctual gesture to comfort someone in pain. As she rolled her thumb in small circles, working her way into his tight tendons, Nixon dropped his head forward and hummed.
“This is the worst it’s gonna feel, the day you receive the news. It’ll get better from here. I promise.”
She spoke as if from experience, and since he knew she had never been married or divorced – as the intelligence officer, he was privy to a lot of information, especially when he sought it out directly – he wondered what pain she had gone through that could allow her to relate. Then he remembered: her baby brother. God, he couldn’t believe he had forgotten about that – he had even been the one to summon her to Winters’ office. He didn’t think he had ever admired her more than when he had read that letter from her mother; knowing that she had been sitting on that loss for such a long time without ever saying a word.
“Until I have to go back home to the bitch,” he replied now, pushing the thought from his mind.
He watched her stick two cigarettes in her mouth and light them.
“So, don’t go back,” she suggested, holding one of the smokes out to Speirs as he passed by on his way into the building behind them, where Winters had made himself at home. The captain took it as if he had been expecting it, then kept walking without saying a word. She held out the second one to the man beside her, but he shook his head. He had noticed the way her hand had fallen to his shoulder as the other man approached, reducing the gesture to something less intimate.
“Germany’s not so bad,” she went on, “You know, once you get used to the fascism.”
She felt his body vibrate with laughter and he turned to give her the first genuine smile she’d seen from him in a while.
“Yeah, you’re right. It is a pretty little place. I guess I could stay. But only if you stay with me.”
She met his gaze and the humor-disguised proposition hung awkwardly between them. His smile fell away, and for the first time she felt the true extent of the feelings that had been forming between them over the past two years. Just as she opened her mouth to reply, Speirs returned. She looked up at him. He gave the slightest jerk of his head and the lieutenant was on her feet.
“Well, duty calls,” she said, “Look after yourself, okay?”
Nixon didn’t answer, staring blankly ahead and only came out of his trance when she clapped him lightly on the shoulder. He looked up, gave a very unconvincing nod, and then watched her walk away with the man he knew she was in love with. What hurt more was knowing Speirs felt the same way about her.
**
28th April, 1945
Landsberg, Germany
____________
“Alright, two bucks.”
Alice watched as her captain tossed a couple of notes into the middle of the table. Frowning at his optimism, she attempted to sneak a peek at his cards and couldn’t help but laugh as he jerked them away and threw her a disapproving look.
“Are you in or what?” Speirs asked her, gesturing to the pot, “Or too busy cheating?”
“Christ,” she laughed at his harsh words, “Here.” She smacked two bills down and leaned back in her chair, taking a long drag of her cigarette. It was a cozy little setting, drinks served all around and a fire crackling merrily just behind them. It was the most comfortable they had been since they’d left Aldbourne, what felt like another lifetime ago. Somehow, out of all the countries they had been to, it was the homeland of their enemy that felt the most hospitable.
To her left, she watched as Nixon made to pour himself a new glass of his beloved Vat 69 only to find the bottle empty. To his left sat Carwood Lipton, then their final player, Harry Welsh. The men stared at the boozy captain, waiting for his bet. He sighed and tossed down his cards.
“I’m out.”
Whether he meant out of the game, or out of his favorite beverage, Alice wasn’t sure. Nixon rose noisily from his seat and looked around for another bottle, wandering into the adjoining room when he failed to locate one. Alice watched Speirs’s face turn stony at his fellow captain’s behavior. Unlike the three other men, he and Alice had opted for coffee on the off chance they were suddenly called back into combat. It seemed highly unlikely at this point, but it was in the man’s nature to be practical like that, and she had followed his example. He caught her gaze but didn’t say a word.
“Alright,” Lipton said, tossing in his own money, “I’ll call your two and raise you another two.”
“Geez, get a little alcohol into this guy and he takes no prisoners,” Alice joked, “Kinda like you, Ron.”
“Are we still talking about that?” Speirs replied.
She threw him a smirk and he stared back, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.
Lipton smiled at the reference in that good-natured way of his, but the moment was interrupted as a loud clang sounded from next door. They turned their heads, but were quickly drawn back into the conversation, trying their best to ignore their friend’s frantic behavior as he continued his hunt for more alcohol.
“I can’t believe we’re not jumping into Berlin,” Harry mused, with a cigarette hanging from his mouth.
“No shit,” came Lipton’s reply.
Tuning out for a moment, Alice turned in her seat to check on Nixon, hearing a strained ‘Goddamn it’ as he crouched in front of Major Winters’ trunk. Her expression grew heavy with concern. They had all ignored his habit at first. They were in the middle of a war, witnessing and playing hand to horrific things on a daily basis – it seemed like a reasonable way to take the edge off the day. Then it became so that she rarely saw him without that familiar silver flask in his hand. More recently, after his third jump into occupied territory, the toll his addiction was taking on him had become all too obvious. As the battalion’s intelligence officer, it went without saying that he needed a clear mind to relay the important information and any new orders they were given; a single incorrect piece of information could mean the difference between life and death for hundreds of men.
“This war’s not about fighting anymore,” she heard Speirs saying, “It’s about who gets what.”
“Like finders keepers?” she said as she turned back, recalling the brazen way he had stripped almost every house of its valuables from the moment they had stepped into Germany.
He smiled and looked at her with the dangerous glint in his eye that the men seemed to find terrifying, but that she found alluring. “Yeah. Like finders keepers.”
Nixon appeared from the bedroom and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, looking forlorn.
“Deal me out of the next hand,” he said before walking towards the front door. Alice stared after him, frowning, then lapsed into thought.
“What about your money?” Harry called after him, but the only reply he received was the sound of the door slamming as the captain stepped out into the cold, wet night. Harry sighed. “Are we waiting on him again?”
Lipton nodded, answering in the affirmative, when Alice was struck by a sudden recollection.
“Oh, shit!”
The three men looked at her, slightly taken aback by the outburst. They still hadn’t gotten used to the sound of a woman cursing, though Speirs knew he’d likely have a lifetime to do so.
“I just remembered something,” she told them, pushing back her seat and tossing her cards face-down on the table, “I’ll be back in a sec.”
“Now we’re waiting on her, too. Great,” Harry sighed, “Anyone else have somewhere they need to be?”
“Patience is a virtue, Harry,” they heard her call back as she moved down the hall towards the exit, and the two remaining lieutenants laughed. Speirs’ face was still, however, as he silently watched her exit the building.
It was pouring rain outside, and the sudden burst of cold brought back memories of the hell that was Bastogne. Alice paused at the top of the steps, allowing a moment to bring herself back to the present, then turned onto the street below. She caught sight of a familiar figure.
“Nix! Hey, Nix!” she called, in a voice that had the ability to reach across an active battlefield.
He turned towards her, drenched from head to toe, looking utterly lost.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” he asked her, catching the way she shivered. He strode over to her and led her over to an undercover area.
“I’ve got something for you,” she explained, voice raised to compete against the torrential weather.
“What do you- ” he began to ask. She gestured for him to follow, and they came to the building he knew she was staying in. The confused frown he had worn since she had first appeared on the street only deepened as they stepped into her room. In his drunken state, he was having trouble thinking of anything other than where he hoped this odd encounter was going. He glanced over at her bed, thoughtfully.
With a swipe of her hand, Alice shoved the discarded items of clothing and small stack of books off the top of her trunk, and opened the lid with a loud creak that brought Nixon back to reality. He heard her make a pleased sound and she got back to her feet.
“Here.” She held out a new bottle of his beloved drink. He just stared at it.
“How did you…?”
“I talked Winters into letting me take one. I thought something like this would happen one day.”
“Something like what?”
“That you’d run out.” She cocked an eyebrow and he couldn’t help but wonder just how badly he’d been behaving in the absence of his booze.
“You did that for me?”
“Well, more for the benefit of everyone else, really.”
He chuckled and stepped towards her, completely ignoring the bottle he had been so desperate to find.
“God, I think I love you.”
The smile seemed to melt from her face, replaced with confusion as he wrapped his arms around her waist and mashed his lips against hers. There was a split second of indecision where she almost considered giving in to her long-growing attraction – to risk the love of a good man for a moment of self-indulgence with another; then the odor of the alcohol and the stale smell of his sweat hit her and she was brought back to her senses, struggling to free herself from his grip.
But he wouldn’t let go.
It was only when her fist connected with his jaw and he was stumbling backwards that he realized what he had done. The look on her face, the mix of confusion, betrayal and regret, was something he had never forgotten. He looked down at her hand as she flexed her fingers and tested the pain in her knuckles. She was probably going to bruise. Rubbing the spot on his jaw, he thought that he probably would too, but he didn’t care. Nothing in that moment hurt more than knowing she might never look at him the same way ever again.
“Ron and I are engaged.”
The statement was a rude slap that shocked him awake better than a cold shower ever could have.
“When the hell did that happen?”
Trying her best to ignore the sharp edge in his voice, she said, “He asked a couple of days ago, and I-”
“And you said ‘yes’,” he finished for her, with a bitterness that made her blood boil. “So you’ve been engaged this whole time? Comforting me, telling me things are going to be okay, meanwhile you’ve promised yourself to that fucking lunatic?”
When he glanced up to meet her gaze, all resentment and anger fell away. He had never understood how the other men could fear this woman – she was always so quick to smile, easy to laugh and one of the most selfless people he had ever come across. But as she stood before him now, he saw not the warm and accepting Alice he had come to love, but Lieutenant Crowley of Easy Company; the cold, ruthless battlefield commander. And all at once he understood that fear.
“I’m sorry your wife’s divorcing you. I’m sorry you got demoted. And I’m sorry you lost all those men on your last jump. But if you ever lay your hands on me like that again, I will knock your fucking teeth out. Do you understand me?” She spoke in a hushed tone that only managed to intensify everything she said.
A flush crept into his cheeks as her words unlocked a deep shame that the alcohol had been doing well to keep contained. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, croaking out, “Yeah, I got it.”
Then all at once the other Alice seemed to reappear. She glanced at his jaw, lifted her hand towards it, hesitated, and then rested it awkwardly on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Nix.”
And he knew it wasn’t just for the punch.
*
When they finally made it back to the poker game, walking in a heavy silence, their waiting buddies looked up. They were a miserable sight, drenched from head to toe, expressions downcast. Spotting the bottle in Nixon’s hand, completely missing the mood between the two in his own semi-inebriated state, Harry smiled.
“Hey, look at that! You found one!”
Nixon stared at him, before he realized what he was talking about.
“Oh, yeah. Pays to have friends, I guess.” He glanced over at Alice as they both returned to their seats, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Lipton and Harry exchanged the briefest of looks, but said nothing.
As Alice moved to pick up her cards, Speirs spotted the bruises forming on her knuckles and glanced up to see the other captain rubbing gingerly at his jaw as he poured himself a fresh glass. Speirs tensed, but the second he moved to get up, Alice placed a hand on his thigh to still him. She didn’t look at him, but in the light of the fire he could see the mix of emotions glistening in her eyes.
“So, I hear congratulations are in order,” Nixon began, attempting to sound conversational, but failing to hide his bitterness. That seemed to do it for Lieutenant Crowley. She tossed her cards onto the table and pushed back her chair, caring little for the amount of attention she drew to herself in the process.
“You know what? I’m out. Keep the money. I really don’t care.”
Everyone but Nixon watched her leave, and when he felt their eyes burning into him, wanting some answers for her sudden change in temperament, he stared down into his glass.
Speirs waited for the slam of the front door, then folded his cards, stating casually, “I think I’m going to call this one, too.”
Harry sighed and downed the last of his drink. He checked his watch and saw it was well past midnight. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Might be the last decent night’s sleep we get.”
Lipton glanced from Nixon to Speirs, and caught his commanding officer throw the other captain a dark look as he got to his feet. Like most of the men of Easy Company, Lipton was well aware of the relationship that had formed between the CO and his first lieutenant; but as for her and Captain Nixon – Lipton had only ever seen the two talking and joking around since they had first met back in Toccoa, though it had always appeared the same as the friendship she shared with him and the other men. Catching the bruise as it now formed on the disgraced man’s cheek, Lipton fought the urge to go and check on her.
Nixon emptied his glass in one gulp, quickly setting to pour another, ignoring the scrapes of chairs as the others got up. He caught Harry’s gaze as the lieutenant grabbed his winnings, and watched the man force a smile.
“See you in the morning, Nix.”
Nixon stared down at the liquid in his cup as if deciding whether or not to drink it, and gave a sad, empty chuckle. “Yeah. Sure.” Then without any further hesitation, he drained the glass.
**
29th April, 1945
Landsberg, Germany
______________
He tried to find her the next morning, to at least catch sight of her, but she was either avoiding him, or keeping busy elsewhere. He was standing beside Winters, who had already twice questioned the dark bruise along his jawline, when he was caught off guard by the familiar face as Lieutenant Crowley approached them. Ignoring him completely, she stopped in front of the major.
“Sir, do you mind if I tag along on that patrol this morning?”
“You like volunteering for patrols, Al?”
She gave a light chuckle, though she didn’t like to think back on the one she’d led in Haguenau.
“Just feeling a little homesick. Thought a stroll through the woods might help.”
“Might not be a stroll,” Winters reminded her. Though it was unlikely they would come across any trouble, word had come down from battalion that there had been instances of German soldiers retreating into the forest and forming a kind of guerrilla resistance.
“Honestly, sir, I could use the distraction.”
Hearing those words, Nixon finally looked away from her as his stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch; a feeling he knew well – guilt.
“That’s fine. I’m sure the men would be glad to have you along.”
Offering a final smile, he gave a nod to dismiss her and turned his gaze immediately to the officer beside him once she had left.
“What happened, Nix?”
He took in the bruise on his friend’s cheek and pieced it together with the lieutenant’s unusually cold behavior towards him, disliking what it added up to.
“A misunderstanding,” Nixon replied with a sigh.
“Do I need to ask her?”
“What? Jesus, no. If you did, she’d tell you the same thing, anyway.”
“I need this resolved. She’s one of my best officers. We’ve come too far to let something personal cloud decisions that could get people killed.”
“It’s fine. I’ve got it under control, alright? And it’s not…it’s not personal.”
Winters stared at him, expression firm, eyes searching his face in that uncomfortable way that made him feel almost naked.
“Nix?”
He fought the urge to roll his eyes and looked up with a begrudging, “Yeah?”
“Stop lying to me.”
**
“So, can you or can you not teach me the best way to find a beehive?”
“Luz, I swear to God.”
Stepping through the trees of the forest on the outskirts of Landsberg, Alice felt herself smile for the first time since the incident the night before. She looked at the men around her: Luz, Perconte, Randleman, Powers, Christenson, Vest and O’Keefe, and felt herself relax as they made their way through their designated area.
Perconte scrunched up his face, “Whatta ya talkin’ about, a beehive?”
Luz just grinned, holding his lieutenant’s irritated look, then shook his head, “Never mind.”
“Say, Al,” Perconte went on, and she knew just from his tone that he was about to say something she wasn’t going to like, “I heard you got into it with Cap’n Nixon, last night.”
Luz whacked him on the arm to shut him up, but the gesture came too late. Perconte looked back at him, shrugging him off, and George just rolled his eyes. Turning back to see if he would receive an response, he found Lieutenant Crowley gazing at him in a way that made him stop in his tracks.
“You heard what?” she asked. Her voice was casual, but one look at her eyes and he knew better than to make the same mistake twice.
“Nothing,” came his nervous reply. He heard Luz give a chuckle as he passed by. “Shut up,” he told him, but it only made his friend laugh more.
“Why’d you want to come along, lieutenant?” Christenson asked now, caution to his tone after witnessing the exchange with Perconte. He had always found Alice to be quite amicable – it was Speirs that terrified him – but it had always made him uneasy that she seemed so comfortable in that man’s presence, even from the very beginning when the rumors about him had been most prevalent.
He recalled one incident in particular, back in the woods in Bastogne. He had been one of a handful of men who had been left behind to hold the line while the others moved out to take Foy. He had been sitting in his foxhole with Perconte and Sisk, listening to the story of the executed German prisoners for the first time, when the rumored killer himself had made an appearance. Obviously having heard the retelling on the infamous story, Speirs had offered them each a cigarette, which, alarmed, they had politely declined. Then up sauntered Lieutenant Crowley with a casual, “Mind if I bum one of those?” She had pulled one from the pack, pausing to let him light it for her before asking, “Going my way?” He had replied with an odd smile and a simple, “That I am,” and then the pair had walked off together, leaving the three soldiers gaping after them.
“Don’t you know? She loves to volunteer for patrols,” Bull replied now, through a mouthful of cigar.
Alice chuckled, thinking back to Winters’ similar response. “I had no idea that was a running joke with you guys.”
“Ain’t no joke,” Bull told her, “Only you’d be crazy enough to keep volunteerin’ for shit that’d get ya killed.”
“I dunno, this doesn’t seem so dangerous to me,” Shifty said in his gentle Southern drawl, surveying the quiet forest around them.
“Exactly,” Alice nodded, “Shifty the sharp one, as always.”
“Kinda reminds me of Bastogne,” Perconte interjected with a frown, glancing around at the others, “Doesn’t it remind you of Bastogne?”
“Yeah, now that you mention it,” Luz replied, “Except of course there’s no snow, we got warm grub in our bellies, and the trees aren’t fucking exploding from kraut artillery. But yeah, Frank, other than that, it’s a lot like Bastogne.”
The others grinned, but as usual the sarcasm went over Perconte’s head.
“Right?” he agreed.
“Bull, smack him for me, will you?” Luz said. “Thank you.”
They had a good chuckle as Randleman clouted the soldier in the back of his helmet, then continued on in a comfortable silence. Alice fell into step next to Luz, feeling the weight of her uncertainty gradually falling away. She had been in desperate need of a distraction, between dodging an apologetic Nixon, and a concerned Speirs. She almost felt like she was a sergeant again; back amongst the men without the worry of managing an entire company. It was the breather she had needed, and it was only then that she realized she had been spending too much time among the fellow officers. She hated that feeling of isolation from the rest of the men.
“How ya been, Al? You doin’ okay?” Luz asked her, in a voice low enough that the other men wouldn’t hear. As she considered her answer, she flexed her fingers, testing the damage from the night before.
“Yeah,” she assured him, “Gettin’ there.”
He smiled and clapped her on the back, stepping passed her as they continued on. Alice lapsed into thought, keeping her ears pricked for any unusual sounds, but the further she walked, the more she seemed to notice that something wasn’t right. She glanced to Shifty, who had taken point, and caught his eye, noting the crease that formed in his brow.
“George,” she called in a hoarse whisper, signaling for them to stop. Luz turned back to look at her, a frown crossing his face when he caught her expression.
“What is it?” Christenson asked.
“It’s quiet,” Shifty answered for her.
“Yeah, cause Perconte stopped yammerin’,” said Luz.
“Hey, Luz, you know what- ” Perconte began, but was quickly cut off.
“Shut it, you two,” their lieutenant ordered, taking a few steps forward. All around them, the forest was still. Not so much as a birdcall cut through the unnatural silence. She had only ever seen something like this once before, back when a fire had broken out a few hundred miles from her home. The mere smell of the smoke had driven all surrounding wildlife to safer ground. Testing the air now, she caught a different scent. “You guys smell that?”
“Again, Frank,” Luz joked, but Alice held up a hand to shut him up. The humor fell away from his face and he sniffed the air. There was a bad odor, now that she mentioned it. He hadn’t noticed it much before, happy to simply be among friends on a relatively safe patrol for once. Plus, they’d experienced their fair share of bad smells throughout the campaign; body odor, vomit, excrement – both animal and human – blood, spoiled food and the ever-present smoke as buildings went up in flames. But this one hit closer to home. This one they knew all too well.
Bull stepped forward. “Smells like–”
“Death,” Alice finished for him.
It was then that she spotted the thin tendrils of smoke wafting through the tree line up ahead. Without a word, she took off towards it. The men quickly followed.
They stepped out of the forest and spotted the source of the smell and the smoke. At first, they were unable to comprehend what they were looking at. One by one they looked to Lieutenant Crowley for orders, but for the first time she appeared just as lost as they were.
“Frank,” she said, “How’s your ass feeling?”
Perconte looked over at her with a frown. “My ass?”
“Reckon you can make it back to base?”
Realizing what she was saying, he nodded, but she didn’t take her eyes off the barbed wire.
“Yeah. I can manage.”
“Get Speirs,” she ordered, her mind going instantly to the person she trusted most in her moment of uncertainty. He would know what to do, she told herself. Perconte turned to move, slinging his rifle across his back when she said, “No, wait. Get Winters. Just get an officer. Any officer. And medics. I think we’re going to need ‘em.”
“You are an officer,” he said stupidly, as if she had somehow forgotten, but she just shook her head.
“I think we’re going to need someone higher up for this.” Her mind whirred as she considered someone who might at least have some insight into what they had found. “And bring Captain Nixon.”
**
When they first pulled into view of the camp, Nixon spotted Alice beside Sergeant Randleman. Easily one of the biggest, toughest men in the company, Bull was now crouched on the ground with a broken look on his face. The lieutenant was speaking softly to him, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder, trying hard to hold herself together in the process. Each member of the small patrol held the same expression, as if it had become their new squad insignia; a telling mark of their recent discovery.
Hearing the crunch of tires on gravel, Alice looked up with a blank kind of confusion. As the officers jumped out of the jeep, Winters came towards her first. Nixon began to do the same, but faltered for a moment until she met his gaze for the first time that day.
“Lieutenant Crowley?” Winters said gently, as she stared off, then when she didn’t answer, “Al?”
She looked at him and he caught the lost look behind the eyes that were usually so confident and focused.
“Sir?” she blinked. He stared at her a moment before she realized what he wanted, but at first she struggled to find the words. “Uh, we were travelling north through the forest, Shifty on point. The smell hit us first. Then we followed the smoke. I had Luz, Christenson, and Vest scout the perimeter while Powers and Randleman did a sweep of the surrounding woods. I remained on watch with O’Keefe at the front gate. We attempted to make contact with the, the people, the, uh, prisoners. None of them speak any English. We found no guards, no enemy soldiers. I have no idea how long these people have been alone for, sir. As far as I can tell, they’ve been without food and water for a while.”
“The fires are fresh,” Speirs noted, looking up at the rising smoke as he stepped up beside her, and she nodded, feeling a little better with him by her side. “Guards can’t be long gone.”
“That’s fine,” Winters told her. Then, sensing her distress at her inability to find some way to help the people behind the wire, added softly, “You did good, Al.”
“You haven’t heard of this sort of thing back at headquarters, Captain Nixon?” Alice asked, turning to the other officer.
He didn’t respond for a moment, not used to being addressed by her in such formal manner. “Uh, no. Nothing like this.” He couldn’t help but stare, completely thrown by her behavior. He had only ever seen her like this once before; back in Haguenau, the morning after she had lost a man on patrol. She had blamed herself his death, somehow concluding that it was a reflection of her abilities as an officer. Even now she almost looked as though it was somehow her fault that the people behind the fences had met such a horrific fate, as if she could have prevented it from happening had she done something differently.
“I didn’t have any way to get it open. I just thought…”
It was the first time they had seen her at a loss for what to do. Winters nodded, understanding, and they turned to look back at the dozens of emaciated figures. Behind them, more men from Easy climbed off of a truck, each of them coming to a halt the moment they caught sight of the living skeletons, a few of them covering their noses as the smell washed over them.
Acquiring bolt-cutters from the truck, Christenson stepped forward and opened the perimeter gate. Alice and Winters stepped through, then exchanged an uncertain look.
“Open it up,” Winters ordered.
As Christenson cut the chain on the final gate, urging the starving prisoners away from the entrance with some help from Perconte, Alice felt someone step up beside her. She looked at Nixon, then turned to the group of medics behind her, ushering them in first to evaluate the condition of the men in the filthy, striped clothing.
“Do you speak any German?” Winters asked Christenson, but the man shook his head. He turned to Alice and she did the same.
“Is Liebgott with you?” she asked him, “I’ll go find Liebgott.”
She moved quickly, glad to finally be of use again, creating as much distance as she could between herself and the camp, finding it difficult to breathe. She paused for a second, took a deep breath, and then pushed through the group of Easy company men who were filtering in, passing Speirs along the way. He paused to say something to her, but she barely seemed to notice him.
“Liebgott?”
“Yeah?” came a voice from the back group. She spotted him holding the perimeter with a couple of others.
She jerked her head for him to follow her, her expression saying enough.
“What the hell is this place?” he asked her, another one to note the worrying change in her usually self-assured demeanor. After spotting the telltale patches on the prisoners’ chests, Speirs had been quick to place Liebgott on the perimeter to create some distance between him and the camp. The Jewish-born soldier hadn’t questioned it; he hadn’t seen much of what they had found, but with the smell coming off it he was only happy to oblige.
“That’s what you’re going to find out for us,” Alice replied, fighting to hold back the bile in her throat as the breeze blew the rancid smell of decay into their faces.
“Alright, boys,” she heard Lipton instructing as they walked passed, “These people need care. Give them water, any rations you might have. Grab some blankets.”
Hearing the clear, logical orders, Lieutenant Crowley seemed to snap out of her daze, walking with more purpose as she led the translator back to Major Winters.
She stood beside him, with Nixon to her left, and Speirs behind her as Liebgott questioned the healthiest of the men – and considering the condition of some of the others, that really wasn’t saying much. His clothes were filthy, draped over his emaciated frame. His skin had a waxy, yellow pallor to it as it stretched across his bones, and his eyes were two sunken pits. The stench coming off of him was not unlike that of the camp itself.
The guards had left that morning, he told them, running from an enemy that they knew was closing in. In a last ditch effort to hide their atrocities, they had shot as many prisoners as they could, before burning down a few of the huts with the men still inside. Any prisoners who had tried to stop them had also been shot. Without time to destroy all of the evidence, and running short on ammunition, they had locked those remaining inside and left them to die of starvation and disease that many were already well on the way to succumbing to.
Winters listened carefully, then asked the most pressing question: how was it that these men had come to find themselves treated with such cruelty? There was no reason in his mind that could compel men to treat fellow human beings with such brutality, but perhaps the minds of the Germans worked differently. He recalled the treatment of the women back in Eindhoven who had been accused of sleeping with German soldiers; the way they had screamed and begged as they were beaten on the streets, their shaved heads still bleeding from the townspeople’s vicious conduct. Humans always found a way to justify their violence.
“Can you ask him what kind of camp this is? Why are they here?”
Liebgott relayed the question and they waited, watching the gaunt man consider his words before he replied.
“He says it’s a work camp. There was a word he used, but I’m not familiar. ‘Unwanted’, maybe?”
“Criminals?” Winters guessed.
Liebgott tried that, but the prisoner frowned at him, clearly offended, and gave a very clear ‘no’.
“Doctors, musicians,” Liebgott translated, “Tailors, clerks, farmers, intellectuals.” He shook his head, not quite understanding how these things related to their imprisonment. Then the man spoke a word that resonated deeply with the soldier. He asked him again, just to be sure, and the man nodded. Like Speirs, he too had noticed the stars stitched onto their soiled clothes as he first entered the camp, but hadn’t made any correlation between the symbol and the men’s incarceration. It was beyond his reasoning that something as simple someone’s religious faith could have them wind up in conditions like this.
Winters stared, waiting for the reply.
“They’re Jews,” Liebgott said. The prisoner continued on, then seemed to become deeply distressed, gesturing up the road, voice breaking with emotion as tears welled in his eyes.
“Liebgott?” Nixon asked, brows knitting together as the prisoner began to cry.
“The women’s camp is up the road.”
Alice broke from the circle then, hands on hips, overcome and finding it difficult to breathe. It wasn’t just the smell; it was knowing that no matter how hard they had fought, they hadn’t been able to stop the suffering of these people. Maybe if they had made it sooner… She walked in a daze towards the front gates and came to a stop when she felt it was far enough. Taking a few deep, even breaths, she gazed down the road and considered her next move. A hand found her shoulder and she jumped.
“You’re not going,” Speirs said evenly, reading her mind. Though he somehow managed to maintain his usual stoic expression, she could see just from his eyes how much he had been affected, too.
“They’re out there, just like these people were. They’re locked up in there, waiting for help to come.”
“You’re not going,” he repeated in the same tone. “They’ve got someone on the radio to send another company over there. You don’t need to see that.”
Her breath became uneven again and she asked with a tight voice, “Ron…what if there’s children?”
He considered the horrific possibility, looking away from her and into the forest, then realized the more likely truth. He sighed as he considered whether or not to voice his thoughts. “I don’t think there would be.”
It took her a moment to process his response, and when she realized what it meant – how the men in this camp had barely managed to survive – she gave a quick nod and took a few steps further out with her head bowed. She came to rest beside the troop truck and in a moment of violent release, drove her fist into the side of it. She felt the already-bruised skin split, but didn’t care. The pain grounded her. She looked at the smear of blood she had left on the vehicle, then turned stare out into the forest for a moment. Speirs watched her take a deep breath and turn back, walking with purpose, her expression suddenly focused and determined.
“Stop,” he said, blocking her path. She watched him with a curious frown as he patted down a number of his pockets, finally coming across the object he was after. He took her hand gently in his own and wrapped it in the small bandage he had kept from his field kit. “I’m not having you catch something in there,” he frowned, clearly disapproving of her sudden outburst. “And you need to give that fist a break.”
She glanced up at him, finding an unusual softness to his usually sharp eyes. “That’s why God gave me two, Ron.”
He threw her a look of warning, but that too had a strange gentleness to it. It was the same way he had been looking at her that morning, as they’d briefed the men about the patrol. That presumption of vulnerability from a man who had once witnessed her beat a man to a bloody pulp – who had seen her take out a kraut-infested building on her own with a gunshot wound to the arm – had quickly begun to drive her insane.
He followed her back through the gates. The rest of Easy Company had fanned out, helping whoever they could and exploring the rest of the camp, which stretched out much further than they had first imagined.
Seeing more prisoners pouring out of the surrounding huts, Alice turned to Speirs. “What are we going to do with all of them? We can’t leave them here.”
“Where are we going to take them?” he replied, as if that were the better question, his face drawn as they passed shriveled corpses by the roadside. “I don’t even know if they’d survive the trip.”
“Not back to the town. For all we know, they’re the ones who put them here.”
He nodded. “Sink’s on his way with the regimental surgeon. They’ll figure it out. For now, we do what we can.”
They came to a stop behind Captain Nixon and Major Winters, and stared up at the looming train cart as the door was pulled back. The stench hit them immediately. Bodies were stacked inside, each in various stages of decomposition, some with their mouths open, frozen in their final death rattles.
Alice turned away, covering her nose and mouth with the back of her hand. She spotted Bull and Luz coming out of one of the huts looking troubled, and moved to approach them. Catching her questioning look, they shook their heads, but she misread the gesture.
“More dead?” she asked, voice solemn.
“Some are,” Bull replied in a similar manner, “Most o’ them are alive. We need to get some more doctors out here.”
“They’re on their way.”
“Christ, what the hell is this place, Al?” Luz asked, and together they looked around, taking in the horror they had stumbled upon.
“This?” Alice replied, barely able to comprehend it herself, “This is why we fight.”
*
“Winters wants us to find some food,” Nixon relayed to the two officers in front of him. He looked like hell. He had made it halfway through the bottle of Vat 69 Alice had given him, before passing out on his bed, waking up that morning in a puddle of his own piss. He had accepted it as his lowest point. But now, seeing the starving, dying men imprisoned in the Nazi work camp, the piles of corpses scattered around the yard, his own problems had quickly been thrown into perspective. He felt a deep shame work its way inside of him, and as he glanced between Captain Speirs and Lieutenant Crowley that feeling of self-loathing only intensified.
“We don’t have a lot of rations,” Speirs thought aloud.
“We’re going to have to loot the townsfolk. There you go, Ron. Something you’re familiar with,” Alice joked absently, retaining her solemn expression.
His mouth twitched in a grim smile, “What did we have there? A bakery?”
“Yeah, a couple of cafes, too, I think. Maybe a general store. Want me to tell the men?”
Speirs glanced up, biting his lip in thought and gave a nod.
“Tell Winters we’re on it,” Alice said to Nixon, and he, too, gave a nod of approval.
*
On the orders of Lieutenant Crowley, second platoon returned to the town of Landsberg and took any food they could find, most of it coming from the storerooms of German businesses. Ignoring the complaints of the owners, who had somehow managed to go about life as usual while innocent men and women were dying just outside their gates, the soldiers obeyed her one rule; no unwarranted bloodshed. But that didn’t mean things didn’t, at times, get violent. Still haunted by the smell and the sights of the camp, the soldiers took out their disgust on the German villagers.
By the time they made it back to the camp and began handing out the food to the crowd of desperate prisoners, Colonel Sink had arrived with the regimental surgeon, Major Louis Kent.
“We need to stop giving these men food,” Major Kent explained to them, “These men are starving. If we give them too much, too fast, they will eat themselves to death. Also, we need to keep them in the camp until we can find a place for them in town.”
“You want us to lock these people back up?” Nixon asked.
“We’ve got no choice,” Sink assured him, not liking the idea any more than they did.
“Otherwise they might scatter,” the surgeon added, “We need to keep them centralized so we can supervise their food intake and medical treatment. So, until we find some place better…”
“Lieutenant Crowley!” Winters called, keeping it formal in front of the colonel, but Sink was quickly dragged away to a radio call.
Alice glanced over from where she was supervising the distribution of the food with Lieutenant Welsh, and made her way over.
“We need to put them back inside until we find a better place for them,” Winters explained.
She narrowed her eyes, as if unsure that she had heard right.
“Al, we’re gonna need to lock them back up,” Nixon told her.
“Come again? You want us to put them back in there? With the dead?” she asked, the emotional toll of the day growing evident by the edge in her voice, “These people think they’ve just been liberated.”
“They have been liberated,” Winters assured her.
She nodded, “A little hard to tell someone that while they’re looking at you from behind a barbed-wire fence.”
The two men dropped their gazes.
“We need to get this done,” Winters said softly.
“Who’s gonna tell ‘em?”
He looked back at her and she already knew the answer. Her hand moved to her face as she rubbed her eyes and drew in a steady breath. She sighed, willing this nightmare to be over; for the prisoners, for the soldiers, and for herself.
“Alright. Christ. Liebgott!” Spotting the soldier among the prisoners, she waved him over for the second time that day.
“You want me to what?” he said, after she had relayed the orders. “I can’t tell them that.”
“You have to, Joe,” Winters replied.
There was a quiet moment when the guilt of those instructions hung heavily on all of them, and Alice found herself wishing she could speak the language, if only to relieve Joe of the painful task. This one hit too close to home for him, they knew. Just as she was considered having Webster carry it out instead, Liebgott finally answered, “Yes, sir.”
Alice walked with him and stood by the back of the truck as he climbed up and spoke the dreaded words. The relief and happiness drained from the faces of the starving men as they stared up at him. All at once they began to panic and, just as Major Kent had predicted, the prisoners made an attempt to scatter; after their fleeting moment of freedom, they were once again under someone else’s control. The men of Easy herded them back through the gates as gently as they possibly could, sending the crying, begging men back to face the bloated, fly-blown faces of their friends and loved ones who hadn’t made it. The mood was grim as they watched the tortured souls milling around the fence in a desperate frenzy, their frightened moans stirring some of the most battle-hardened men to their own silent tears.
Standing in a daze, the day’s events weighing on his mind, Nixon looked back at Liebgott. He watched as Alice climbed up beside him in the truck and put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him to her as his body began to shake with silent sobs. She didn’t seem to notice the glistening streaks that fell along her own face.
**
That evening, after getting a head start on his drinking for the night, Nixon found Winters in his office going over papers and constructing his report of the day’s events. The captain looked pale and lacking in decent sleep as he looked through the liquor cabinet to his friend’s left, attempting to read the foreign labels on the unfamiliar bottles.
“Thought you weren’t drinking the local,” Winters commented, pausing from his work.
“I’m just…browsing.”
Winters threw him an unconvinced look, then went on, “I heard from Division. Been finding camps like this all over the place. Seems the Russians liberated one a lot worse.”
“Worse?” Nixon narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than what they had witnessed behind those barbed-wire fences.
“Yeah,” the major sighed, weary at the thought, “Apparently. Ten times as big. Execution chambers. Ovens.”
Nixon cocked his head and waited for him to elaborate on the last part.
“For cremating all the bodies.”
“Jesus,” Nixon said, at a loss for any other words to express the disgust that sat like a heavy stone in the pit of his stomach.
Winters nodded. As he spoke the words, he almost understood why his friend drank as much as he did; it was enough to make any man turn to alcohol. Almost any man. Winters preferred to use those thoughts as a means of keeping sober.
“Locals claim they never heard of the camp,” Nixon told him, “They say we exaggerate.”
He recalled the trip back into the village to collect food for the prisoners. Speirs had been right to send Alice to lead the mission; she was just the right balance of commanding and compassionate, and when it came time to forcibly remove the food from the citizens, she had maintained a surprising level of civility. He had even seen her break up a few violent confrontations started by the traumatized men of her platoon, despite her own obvious desire to lay into the people who had allowed such suffering to go on right under their noses.
“Well, they’re gonna have a hell of an education tomorrow,” Winters said, looking somewhat pleased by the turn of events, sharing the attitude of the other soldiers of Easy in terms of the civilians. “General Taylor declared martial law about an hour ago. Ordered every able-bodied German in town aged fourteen to eighty to start burying the bodies, and they’ll begin tomorrow. Tenth armored are going to supervise clean-up.”
“And what about us?”
Glancing up at his friend, Winters couldn’t help but feel pity for the man. Usually Nixon would be the one telling him these things; but that was before he had been demoted. Now he was out of the loop and, it seemed, simply out of luck.
“We head for Thalem, tomorrow. Twelve-hundred hours.”
Nixon nodded, and another thought came to him. He considered the best way to word it without sounding suspicious, so instead of asking after the person directly, went for the next best thing – the less obvious thing.
“You seen Speirs?”
When Winters looked over at him again, he realized he hadn’t been as subtle as he had thought in his semi-intoxicated state.
“I think he’s with Al. Why? You need to talk to him?”
Nixon chuckled, aware that Winters was only teasing now, though the major’s expression remained stern. He recalled her confession from the night before, the one bit of information he was certain only he was privy to, and in a burst of alcohol-fueled impulsivity, said to the major, “You know they’re together, right?”
Winters went back to his papers, answering casually, “I’m aware.”
“You know that they’re engaged?”
Hoping to catch him off-guard with this bit of information, too drunk to care that it could get both officers in question booted out of the company, he was surprised again to see the man nod.
“Yeah, Ron told me this morning. It’s not impacting their performance on the field. I don’t have any issue with it. Plus, I think it’s a good match.”
“You do, huh?” He wondered what had compelled the man to inform Winters of the pending union, then recalled his thoughtless offer of ‘congratulations’ the night before. So, Speirs had thought he would be so petty as to try and get them reprimanded out of pure jealousy. Maybe he was right. After all, he was certain that Alice hadn’t shared the secret with him out of faith in his character. It had almost sounded liked she was trying to remind herself why she couldn’t give in to whatever urge she had been feeling. He had felt it in the kiss; a moment of indecision when she had started to kiss him back. He had gone to bed with that thought still playing in his mind, even with the dull ache of his bruised jaw reminding him what a stupid idea it would be to pursue it any further.
Nixon stared down at the floor, focusing on the frayed edges of the rug as he found himself caught off guard again. Realizing the risk he had just taken in divulging a secret that wasn’t his, he considered the outcome had he not been speaking to such a reasonable and considerate superior officer. On one hand, Speirs could have been transferred, even kicked out, losing Easy Company the best CO it’d had since Winters, and leaving a gap in Alice’s life for Nixon to try and edge his way into. On the other hand, they could have lost Alice, the next best officer they had; a woman who had worked hard to prove herself good enough for the paratroopers, and one who had not once hesitated in the battlefield to protect her fellow comrades, even when it meant putting her own life on the line. Still, with her gone, he would have had one less distraction, one less reason to want to drink himself into a stupor every day.
The sheer selfishness of those drunken truths made him sick to the stomach, and he left to find something to sober himself up; hoping a cup of coffee and a conversation with the lieutenant herself would do the trick.
He ran into Speirs as he stepped outside holding two empty canteen mugs. Though there were plenty of fine china cups inside the house, he knew Alice hated them after once witnessing her being served coffee in one. She had lifted the delicate item awkwardly between her calloused fingers and joked, “If you see my pinky sticking out, do me a favor and cut it off.”
Ever observant, Speirs glanced down at the two aluminum items then back up to meet his gaze.
“For Winters and I,” Nixon lied, annoyed that he felt he even had to explain himself.
Speirs gave a nod, but the glint in his eye told Nixon that he had caught the fib. As the demoted officer moved down the stairs, Speirs called, “I take mine black, no sugar.”
Nixon looked up in time to catch his disconcerting smirk, and muttered some colorful words as he trudged away.
*
He hadn’t expected to catch Alice in her room, since she wasn’t one to sit around in once place for too long, so when he ducked his head in to check, he didn’t notice her straight away. She was seated on the floor on the opposite side of the bed, her back resting up against the frame. For a second he thought that he had caught her at a vulnerable moment, but when she turned her head, catching the scent of the hot coffee, she offered him a gentle though somewhat unsure smile. He gestured with one of the cups, hoping it made a good enough excuse for his presence, and she nodded for him to come in.
Stopping in front of her, he passed her one of the mugs before considering the best place to sit. There was up on the bed beside her, but he felt like that was an invasion of her personal space – and for all he knew, she was already sharing that space with another man. He glanced around for a chair, feeling at a loss for appropriate options, when his gaze came to rest on Alice. Holding back an amused chuckle, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, she patted the ground beside her.
“I just…I wasn’t sure if-”
“Just take a fucking seat, will you,” she chuckled softly and shook her head. He laughed with her and did as she suggested. They sat in silence for a moment, coffees steaming between their hands as they replayed the events of the day, the silence quickening into a soundless grief.
“Do we need to talk about last night?” he finally asked her, forcing himself to look at her.
“Christ, that’s what you came here to talk about?” There was an edge of disbelief to her voice that he didn’t like. “I was about to ask you what you’d heard about the prisoners, what Sink’s plan is with them. How we’re going to help them. I think that’s a little more important than whatever happened last night, don’t you?”
Her sharp reasoning cut deeply as he was reminded yet again of his inadequacies as an officer. He had never felt the contrast between them more than he did at that moment: her, selfless and focused on the task at hand; him, selfish and increasingly preoccupied with his own personal dramas. He saw then why it would never work between them.
“Yeah, you’re right. As usual,” he said, attempting to make her smile again. It worked. He considered telling her about the larger camp Winters had spoken of, but saw the redness of her eyes and the distant look that often came into them as they sat there; images of the sick, dead and dying flashing back into her mind against her will. He doubted any of the soldiers from Easy would be getting any sleep tonight. Finally, he settled on one piece of information he thought couldn’t hurt.
“General Taylor’s ordered all able-bodied townsfolk to bury the dead tomorrow. Tenth armored is overseeing it.”
“Oh.”
He glanced at her and saw an almost disappointed look grace her features. “You don’t want to be there to see that,” he told her.
She recalled Speirs saying the same to her only hours earlier, and shook her head, but it wasn’t to agree with the statement. “I thought we should see it through.”
His thick eyebrows pulled down into a curious frown as he stared at her.
“I wanna be there to see their faces when they’re forced to confront the things they’ve allowed to go on,” she explained, “I wanna see that.”
It was a twisted confession, but one he found he could relate to. Not one of the citizens had believed him when he had asked them about the camp up the road, yet he was certain the death camp contained former residents of the town.
“We could go, if you want? Drive out in the morning? Honestly, I’m curious to see how they take it, too.”
She looked at him for a moment, then nodded.
“How the fuck could they let them just take them like that? I wonder if they knew what they were going to do to them…”
“I can’t imagine they had a lot of choice,” Nixon replied, “A lot of what the Gestapo and the SS get up to tends to be by force. Guns to heads, all that.”
“There’s always a choice.”
Nixon glanced over at her, somewhat skeptical considering the scenario. A dark look came over her and the battle-hardened face of Lieutenant Crowley was suddenly looking back at him. “If someone came up to me, put a gun to my head, and said ‘We’re taking Liebgott, and there’s nothing you can do about it’, I’d do my darndest to prove them wrong. Hell, even Sobel doesn’t deserve a fate like that.”
“No one does,” Nixon agreed. She ran her hand back through her hair, and he caught sight of the bandage. Knowing she hadn’t done nearly enough damage the night before to warrant a wrap, he asked, “What happened there?”
She sighed. “I punched a truck.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You punched a truck?”
“Yeah,” she sighed, sounding disappointed by her impulsive outburst, “I punched a truck.”
“What did the truck ever do to you?”
“It tried to kiss me.”
He laughed for what felt like the first time in days. “Okay, I deserved that.” They lapsed into a thoughtful silence, the incident weighing heavily on both their minds. “Did I ever actually apologize?”
“No, you didn’t,” she replied, her tone suggesting how uncomfortable the whole topic still made her. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I did.”
He chuckled again and nodded. “Yeah, that you did.”
“I guess I figured that, after that punch, you were well and truly sorry anyway.”
“Yeah, you’re not wrong.”
She turned to look at the mark she had left on his jaw, fingers moving up to touch the purple discoloration.
“How’s it feel?”
When her eyes flicked back to meet his and she saw the way he was looking at her, she withdrew her hand immediately.
“Fuck. Sorry.”
“For what? Christ, I’m the one with the problem, here. You’ve never done anything wrong by me. I mean that, Al. I mean, what the hell was I thinking?”
“You were drunk.”
“When am I not?”
He joined her as she chuckled, but his sounded empty, almost bitter. As they lapsed back into a more comfortable silence, a thought came back to Nixon.
“So, how’d he ask?”
“Hm? Oh. Um, he just said ‘We should get married after this’ and I said ‘Sure’.”
“You said ‘Sure’?”
She chuckled, a playful grin on her face, “Yeah, you know Ron and I, we’re not big on theatrics. We like to keep it simple.”
“Already with the ‘we’?”
“Yeah, well. It’s been ‘we’ for a long time. How are we going to take out those German guns? What are we going to do with these German prisoners? Not that we were always on the same page with that stuff.”
“Did you ever talk to him back in Toccoa?”
She smiled to herself as she thought back to those days. “I ran into him a few times. You know that story about me beating up that guy from Able?”
“Yeah?”
“He was there.”
Nixon’s eyebrows shot up again. “That actually happened?”
She gave him a sheepish look, forgetting that it had always been treated as a rumor.
“Who was it?”
Thinking back to D-Day, where she had watched the life drain from the young man’s eyes as he bled out under her hands, Alice just shook her head and said, “It doesn’t matter.”
“So, are you really going to marry him?” Nixon asked her after a moment.
The content smile that appeared on her lips told him all he needed to know, but she still replied, “Yeah, I am. I love that fucking lunatic.” She turned her gaze to him with a playful scowl and he recalled his words from the night before. Her expression turned a little more serious and she said softly, “You know it would never have worked between us, right?”
The comment hit him hard. It was something he had considered so many times before, something he had used to ground himself whenever he caught her in a rare moment of vulnerability and felt his stomach flip as he was hit with a rush of adoration for her.
The first time he had felt it was way back on D-Day. She had approached the officers on her way out of the town she had just helped secure for use as Battalion HQ. Her uniform and hands had been stained with someone else’s blood, some of it smeared across her forehead; her stripy, black paint mixing with sweat as it ran down her face. He had watched as she’d removed her helmet and swept her hand back through wet strands of pale-blonde hair, forgetting about the blood and leaving a crimson streak in her wake. She had just made it back from taking a third building, and the motley group of soldiers she had collected after landing still tagged along after her like a mother duck. He had listened to the respectful words of appreciation she had spoken to them before telling them to disband and track down their original units. Then she had stalked over to him with a grin, a greeting of ‘Hey, Nix!’, and a smack on the shoulder that had sent the first shock-wave of affection through his body.
“Why do you say that?” he finally asked, aware of the tightness in his voice.
“One of us wouldn’t have been happy.”
“Well, that’s the foundation of every good marriage, Al.”
She threw him a look and he realized she wasn’t kidding around.
“Besides, I usually feel pretty good when I’m with you.” The words slipped out before he could stop them and he waited for her reaction.
“We’re from very different worlds,” she began, acutely aware of the overriding melodrama in the words.
“You never read ‘Romeo and Juliet’?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, must have been exclusive to you Ivy Leaguers. Maybe Webster can give me the rundown.”
He laughed again and took a sip of his forgotten coffee, testing the temperature. It had cooled down enough to take a hearty gulp.
“I mean, can you imagine taking me to meet your parents? The esteemed Nixons of New York City meeting Alice Crowley of the Appalachian Valley. ‘Well, howdy, Mr and Mrs. Nixon, real fuckin’ nice to meet you. Your son’s a helluva guy. Sure was nice servin’ with him, especially when it came to those debriefin’s…”
Nixon snorted into his cup, sending up a spray of coffee that splashed them both.
“So, you see my point?” Alice grinned, as he cleaned himself up.
“You’re putting that accent on.”
“How could you tell?”
They gazed at each other, smirking at the playful exchange they had grown accustomed to when in each other’s’ company. Alice could see exactly where he was coming from. It didn’t matter that their backgrounds weren’t the same, or that his parents might not approve. There was enough there to lay the foundation for a genuinely happy relationship. But she would never be able to look past the alcoholism, and deep down she knew it was the seed that would take root in her heart and grow into a destructive bitterness that would eventually drive them apart. He was not the man she was supposed to be with, even if, in that moment, she felt a familiar nagging doubt in the back of her mind, urging her to reconsider.
She broke the gaze and finally took a sip of her warm coffee, frowning as an unfamiliar taste hit her tongue.
“What did you put in this? Not love and devotion, I’m assuming.”
“Didn’t think you’d drink it if I did,” he replied, grinning, “I made yours Irish. You look like hell, kid. What happened?”
***
June 6th, 1946
Boston, Massachusetts
____________
Lewis Nixon was not at all surprised by the amount of familiar faces inside the church, and suspected that every single member of Easy Company had made the effort to show up; they were not about to miss the union of two of the most feared and respected officers that the company had ever seen. He was certain he had even caught a glimpse of Colonel Sink as he’d found his seat in the pews. He had received his invitation about a month earlier, and could only shake his head when he saw the proposed date. True to her word, it was something only Alice Crowley would do.
Ronald Speirs stood at the altar, staring expectantly down the aisle, a look of marked determination on his handsome features. The captain looked particularly dashing in his dress uniform, but when the music started and the bride stepped in, the husband-to-be was completely forgotten. All eyes turned to Alice. She looked stunning in her white silk gown; her pale, blonde hair hung down her back in glossy waves against the snowy tulle of her veil, and her red lips brought out the healthy glow in her cheeks as she smiled. She looked so happy.
Escorting her down the aisle, Dick Winters looked the part of the proud father, having accepted her request for him to stand in Elliot Crowley’s place, since the man himself had been killed in an accident many years before. Viewing Winters as a sort of father-figure all throughout their European campaign – despite there being the smallest of age gaps between the two – he had been her first choice for the role. Exchanging a glance with him now, her grin grew wider and he gave her arm an affectionate squeeze. As they passed Lewis in the pews, they both turned their heads to look at him and he simply smiled back, ignoring the way his breath caught in his throat at the sight of Alice in her attire.
Somewhere nearby, Nixon heard Bill Guarnere whisper loudly, “Fuck me dead,” and caught the woman next to him jab him in the side with her elbow. Alice had to press her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing.
As they reached the altar, Dick gave her away with a nod to his old captain, who returned the gesture, unable to hide his joy at the sight of his beautiful bride.
When the time came for them to exchange their vows, Nixon couldn’t help but think back to his comment in Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest all those many months ago, pushing the thought from his mind as the priest began to speak.
“Repeat after me,” he said to Alice, “’I, Alice Martha Crowley.’”
“I, Alice Martha Crowley.”
“Take you, Ronald Charles Spiers.”
“Take you, Sparky.”
The church erupted in laughter as the groom stared at the woman before him, fighting back a grin. She stared right back, challenging him to keep a straight face as their friends called ‘Sparky!’ from the rows in front of them. Nixon joined in the merriment, but his own laughter felt hollow in his chest. Finally, after the laughter and catcalling had died down, they reached the part he had been dreading. The priest turned to the congregation as the happy couple stared into each other’s eyes, the entire world falling away around them in their moment of bliss.
“If anyone here has any reasons as to why these two individuals should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Nixon took a deep breath…then breathed it out in a heavy sigh. He caught Winters’ eyes flick over to him and suddenly felt ashamed of himself. Dick knew him better than any man or woman in that building. He had actually been considering speaking up – that thought had actually crossed his mind. Thankfully, he was not nearly drunk enough to act on it.
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Over a hundred heads craned forward to witness the act they had long imagined happening in secret on the battlefront, and knowing this, Speirs did his best to add a touch of showmanship. With one hand behind her neck and the other on the small of her back, he leaned her back and kissed her with the same amount of passion he had the first time, back in Germany after their victory had been announced at the Eagle’s Nest. The scene was met with the kind of whooping and hollering only men of the US military could provide, and when Alice was lifted upright again, they cheered all the more for her pink, glowing face as tears of happiness rolled down her cheeks.
*
“You finally did it, huh?”
“Hey, Nix!”
Catching her alone after the ceremony, he allowed himself to be pulled into a friendly embrace. The other guests milled around outside the church; Speirs caught in the middle of a mini Dog Company reunion as his old squad mates shared their congratulations.
“I said I would, didn’t I?” Alice said, stepping back.
“You always were a woman of your word.”
He took her in from the closer proximity. He hadn’t thought she could look any more beautiful, but outside, under the churchyard’s big oak tree, with the sunlight dappled across her skin, she was a far cry from the sweat and dirt encrusted lieutenant he had seen fighting back in Europe.
“What?” she asked, and he realized he had been staring. Dropping his gaze, his eyes came to rest on the shape of her belly. The dress was doing a good job of covering it, but from this range the bump was undeniable. Catching his expression, Alice winced. “We got started a little early.”
“You’re pregnant?” he asked, his thick eyebrows jumping up.
“Yeah. We were hoping no one would notice,” she chuckled. “Especially the priest.”
“Wow. God, that’s…. I can’t imagine you as a mom.”
“What are you talking about? I raised a whole goddamn company of kids. I think I’ll be alright.”
He laughed. “Yeah, you might actually have something there.”
“So, what’s her name?”
“Who?” He looked up at her, momentarily confused by the question, distracted by the brightness of her eyes. “Oh, her. That’s Laura. She didn’t want to come.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“Well, she found the invitation, asked how I knew you, and somehow ‘we served together in the airborne’ wasn’t a good enough answer.”
“So, what, she thinks I’m an old girlfriend or something?”
He chuckled and replied, “Yeah, I guess so.”
Alice gazed at him for a moment, sensing his apathetic mood.
“You don’t like her,” she realized.
“Well, I better. Since I’m marrying her.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. It was kind of sudden. Sorry I didn’t get the chance to return the invitation. But, hey, maybe you can make it to the next one.”
“Geez, Nix.”
She frowned at the joke and watched as he reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out his old, familiar flask. He unscrewed the cap and took a swig, and then, catching her concerned look, he held it out to her. She looked around and spotted Speirs still surrounded by his old comrades.
“I really shouldn’t,” she said, then with a mischievous smirk she grabbed the container and took a sip.
“This is a new low,” Nixon told her, “Giving whiskey to a pregnant lady.”
“Hey, I could have said no.” She passed him back the silver flask and gave a little sigh.
He watched her for a moment, and simply seeing the content look on her face ate away at his long-harbored bitterness. Finally, he smiled. “Congratulations, Al. I’m really glad you’re happy.”
She looked back at him and realized that he genuinely meant it. With a small smile of her own, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.
“Thanks for coming, Lew.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Even if that meant leaving Laura at home. Oh, that reminds me, I should probably go find her, before she remembers how much she doesn’t want to be here.”
Chuckling, Alice watched him go with the painful realization that she might never see him again. Her heart ached at the thought of not being able to enjoy the company of these men every day, as she had for the better part of the last three years, but seeing them all with their family, their girlfriends and their wives, she couldn’t help but feel excited for the next chapters of their lives. Glancing over at her new husband, she caught his gaze and smiled, looking forward to the next chapter of her own.
Lewis found his fiancée chatting with Dick and the man’s long-time love, Ethel. Laura smiled brightly as he approached, and he quickly put on his own most convincing smile in return. As he listened in to the conversation, his arm draped around his bride-to-be, he looked around at the crowd of guests, glancing back every now and then to assure his interest in what was being said, laughing when the conversation called for it. He finally spotted Alice talking to Bill Guarnere, George Luz, Donald Malarkey and Buck Compton, the bride holding their rapt attention as she smoked a cigarette and grinned as she retold some story from their time in Europe. Even in her wedding dress, made up like a Hollywood starlet, she still managed to stand like an officer addressing their troops, and that was how he decided he wanted to remember her; not as the blushing bride of Ronald Speirs, but as the woman who had managed to capture a town with only a handful of men on D-Day; the woman who always managed to have a smile just for him.
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