#I will watch Winnie the Pooh tomorrow… or maybe tonight

[foxgloveinspace]

Annnnnd I have a cold. Frick frack.

[sugar-petals]

Treats For You (M)

↳ PAIRING: yuzuru hanyu × reader

↳ PLOT: You tend to a nervous Yuzu the night before a skating competition.

↳ WORD COUNT: 9k | one shot | domestic au, smut

↳ WARNINGS ⚠️ pwp, dom/sub, feeding yuzu treats, pegging, some very wet oral (m giving), cum play, oh lord it gets graphic, fingering, crying, mommy kink, yuzu’s crazy back arch, rough sex, masochism, aftercare, some asthma talk

↳ CARO’S NOTE: inspired by this juicy gif. PS: since i usually post for other fandoms — if you’re unfamiliar with yuzu, visit this intro post. 

Just two minutes after you switch off the light, he starts fidgeting. 

Repeatedly, all while messing around with his pillow. Soon enough, the blanket you share becomes all disheveled. 

You turn your head towards the window to check. All as usual. The blinds are perfectly drawn to shut out the moonlight. Meanwhile, the humidifier infuses the air in gentle ten-minute intervals. Not even the heater is bumbling tonight. Yuzuru keeps on rustling beside you, still. Some of his plushies fall off the bed, one after the other.

Of course he can’t sleep. It’s daunting, no precaution ever helps. The blanket couldn’t be any more crumpled up at this point.

„I’m so nervous,“ he finally sits up another minute later, causing the duvet to lift. A little sigh follows.

Eventually, you turn in the sheets yourself, now facing him. Or rather, what you can vaguely make out as his crouching silhouette.

„Hey,“ you mumble from your left side of the bed. „You watched all of the performances from last month.“ You pat Yuzu’s pillow, hoping he would sink down on it again. „At least twice. Or more.“

God knows for how many hours he stretched in front of the TV on his spongy blue yoga mat, reviewing mountains of footage with a furrowed brow worthy of a restaurant critic.

Every jump and every turn, analyzed over and over. Down to the millimeter. Even the costume got its fair share of scorn. Too wide there, this detail on the collar could be different, that part gets in the way while doing spins.

„It’s all— I don’t know what I’m lacking these days.“

The silhouette doesn’t look like it’s headed to lie down again for the time being. You reach toward your bedstand’s squiggly designer lamp. After fumbling about in the dark, you find the bulky switch at its bottom. On goes the light again. Perhaps a bit too bright, both of you squint hard.

„It’s not like you’re dropping to second place anytime soon.“

Given how you thought you could call it a day before Yuzu started to fidget, maybe your voice is not fully resonant yet. It still carries a little unspoken ‚…right?‘ with it. 

As soon as you finish the sentence, you feel how he can pick up on it already. The humidifier dryly comments by puffing out a cloud of lavender steam.

„I don’t really know,“ Yuzu retorts twisting, going into a deep shrug. He is completely sunken now.

„Looks like a simple big hug won’t do, hm.“

Yuzuru ends up nodding. It’s more knowing than admitting. But you don’t like the sense of resignation that comes with it, at all. The problem goes a little deeper than just motivating him with the stats he ironically already knows, times better than you, even.

It’s been going on for the entire day. The last time he made such a grouchy face at his videos was around Christmas. Back then, he couldn’t quite get the jumps right at the start of his routine. But now? His scores are just fine. Not to mention the jumps.

„I didn’t think you were lacking,“ you say. „You just fell once during training.“

And that was because he was fooling around during a break, not in the serious exercises.

„Sorry for bothering you,“ he buries his face in the blanket, beginning to ruffle his hair all over the place. Frustrated Friday-evening-Yuzu always does that, but the energy doesn’t seem to go anywhere this time.

The murmur of his stomach isn’t hard to miss either. You lay your hand on Yuzu’s back.

„Is it because you didn’t eat?“

You wonder what he had for dinner.

Only more guilty stomach growling reaches you as a reply. Figures: He skipped it, and lunch, too. His breakfast was so frugal, you don’t even remember whether he had his milk or not. 

Yuzu was already pacing around in the living room at that point. Recalling the tricky parts of the upcoming choreography, treading his feet into the carpet, humming the steady rhythm of his skating program.

„Maybe I’m turning into a snickers diva,“ a muffled little comment emerges from where his chaotic hair sticks out from the duvet. At this point, his face is all buried there.

„I mean. If you allow me to baby you…“

Three minutes later. You rub your eyes, shift from leg to leg. The kitchen floor is as cold as ever so you regret not putting on socks. Meanwhile, there’s no problem raiding the fridge. 

You could go to the grocery store five times a day and buy everything Yuzu’s mouth waters over — it’d still be stacked to the top. Snacks, veggies, particular sports drinks in weird blue colors, Japanese pickled plums, gyoza left-overs, salad, various fizzy drinks, mostly lemonade.

It’s like that with any food. Out of sight, out of mind. He won’t bother getting up from the yoga mat if he’s fixated on the TV.

After making two distinct picks and checking whether the fridge door closes properly, then bustling at the sink with a towel, you trot back to the bedroom. Equipped. In the meantime, Yuzu has recollected his plushies from the floor, gently aligning them next to his pillow. 

They’re all in their strictly defined place again. You enter just the second after he’s arranged them in the usual half-circle order, centered around his favorite, all-time friendly-eyed Winnie Pooh bear.

„Will you look at that,“ you plant your little kitchen conquests onto the bed, rousing approval noises from Yuzuru who sparkles right at the box and plate you brought along. The grouchy face dissolves, curiosity takes its place. His food reactions will always be the cutest to you.

„Strawberries!“

„From the market. Wasn’t too expensive.“

Freshly doused in the sink, plump and very ripe.

„And rice cakes!“

Truth be told, there couldn’t be a bigger comfort food on his list and you shamelessly exploit the very fact.

„Every competition has a victory meal. Here, fruits first.“

After plopping down on the mattress yourself, you pick up one, then two strawberries. Immediately, Yuzu’s little upturned mouth opens wide as if a tiger baby was yawning. 

He chews more eagerly than you thought. If you pass him pretzel sticks while he reviews things on the TV, he barely eats one or two of them.

„I like these,“ he swallows, prying for the next fruit in your hand already. „Sweet!“

„Tastes best with cake,“ you rearrange your sitting position, making sure to park your cold feet next to Yuzuru’s very warm ones. His toes are readily brushing against yours, Yuzuru perhaps not even noticing they do. He’s too fixated on the little cakes. In all things he does— focus incarnate. He can’t help it.

„Yes, I wanna try!“

You rummage in the packaging you brought along, draw forth a first treat. A second one you set aside on the plate. Tiger baby opens his mouth even wider, in goes the first chunk of the rich delicacy. Lord have mercy on his stomach, it’s 11:15 PM. But what’s normal to him, anyways.

Ten more minutes pass. After the strawberry box is two thirds empty and three juicy rice cakes have embarked on their last journey, Yuzu looks a lot more content than before, even if his bedhead arguably makes him look like a mad scientist. Junior professor Yuzuru Hanyu, escapee from his genius lab that exploded in a blaze of smoke. 

You take it as your task to brush the outlaw strands back into their place with your fingers after pulling out a wet wipe — those with the way too astringent citrus flavor— from your bedstand, cleaning your hands off the rice. It’s not like your hands aren’t sticky on the regular.

To your satisfaction, Yuzu looks like a swaying cat, nestled into his blanket. With no more stomach growling audible, gladly. You put the plate on the bedside table, lean forward to kiss his belly, and shoot him a fracture of an ambiguous gaze.

„So… Fancy getting even more stuffed?“

„Sure! Is it a surprise?“ Yuzu looks around, presumably searching for more food you brought along.

The pure soul.

„Well, we already had dessert.“

„Oh, right! But, what’s the food, then?“

A little pause follows. Yuzuru couldn’t look any more thrilled. You decide to go with it.

„You’re too innocent,“ you lower down your pants by an inch, thumbs demonstratively hooked into the hem. You raise your eyebrows into a question that he cannot miss. „If you want. You might wanna grab your spray first, though.“

Only the last part fully registers in Yuzuru’s expression that finally goes from curious to… sheepish. He caught on.

Asthma spray at 11:30 PM is a cue he’s gotten familiar with over the last four months. Not in a million years did he think he’d ever have to use it late at night. Whatever decision process is rattling through Yuzu’s brain right now, it’s a fast one, though.

„Ha— okay!“

„Alright, Yuzu.“

„Just once second!“

Food round number two, it is. You kick off your pants and underwear but make sure they don’t land any place where plushies are. Yuzu is already busy at the other end of the room, visibly at work with shaky hands, browsing the cupboard with meds next to the window.

Now that he’s double nervous, you curse your idea, but remind yourself of the last late-evening time Yuzu had his head between your legs. ‚I dunno, I was just concentrated‘ are the words that stuck with you after asking him how on earth he kept his breath for what felt like 45 seconds. 

Whatever masochist devil has been driving him, it gave your boyfriend skills you never even knew were possible to have out of absolute nowhere. Not to mention how easily it distracted him from anything else in the world.

Maybe that focus is an effect easy to replicate, you think. Anything that can take his mind off the competition tomorrow is worth trying.

Carefully, you move over to the right side of the bed. Then, recline on Yuzu’s pillow — on his explicit wish two months ago, you meticulously keep that tradition — and feel surrounded by plushies already. 

Back then, Yuzu insisted that he shouldn’t be the only one watching out for you when you’re having sex. And that the pillow just smells really good of your hair afterwards. So there you lay, feeling all kinds of horny. Given that Yuzu is already returning to the bed, swiping his hair off his forehead. Looking very refreshed, letting his breath play. Sexy.

And there it goes already. The I dunno, I was just concentrated gaze. You arrange your legs wide enough for Yuzu to settle in the middle, him still sitting upright. His hands are still shaky when they reach around your outer thigh, but his eyes don’t lie to you in the very least.

„Your breath alright?“

A little nod, but he doesn’t heed the question for any longer. There’s gladly nothing that his lung doctor can’t figure out. You count on that, but asking doesn’t hurt.

Meanwhile, Yuzu’s eager eyes are already drawn downwards. Getting bigger and bigger. The surprise he had anticipated in fact now dances over his face, flighty and polite, but nonetheless apparent to you. He’s smiling, and it looks shy in the light of the bedstand lamp.

„I, ah…“

It’s as if he hasn’t seen you naked before, every time. For whatever reason, Yuzu always reverts to virgin mode with his first glance. You admit it’s flattering and amusing alike, but also — leaves you with Hitchcock level suspense. 

Yuzuru has proven himself to be an expert in summoning a beginner’s zeal, an almost childlikeness. That keeps you on your toes and promises an intensity that routine and pragmatic energy management could never give you.

After letting his eyes linger a little more, his lips become visibly impatient. He’s already licking them. You’d promised food, and he takes it seriously. That Yuzu’s fingers stroke rather weirdly at your thighs does not escape your attention either. They’re practicing.

„Help yourself, touch.“

The stroking ceases. Yuzu doesn’t hesitate to reach down with his left. How he touches you sends a row of tingles down your legs. His fingertips are amazingly dainty and soft. He explores. Then, soon keeps on caressing about, leans his head forward, all still from his seated position. It doesn’t take too long until he goes straight to getting you off with his right hand.

„This is, wow,“ he mumbles to himself, already immersed in rubbing your clit. Going in circles, taking his time. Alternating between index and thumb.

„Yeah. That’s the spot,“ you shift in the pillow, eventually finding a good position to relax. You exhale, focus on his hand.

„So smooth,“ Yuzu traces his joining left hand up and down your labia.

„Maybe someone wants a taste?“

You were right that he would forget practically anything else. The yoga mat worry brow is blown off his face. Substituted by— appetite.

„Not just maybe, actually.“

Spreading your legs a little more is invitation enough to have Yuzuru lower his head onto your pubic bone, tongue already searching for its favorite place. Your fingers gently interlace in his hair as soon as he starts sucking. Keeping his bangs out of his eyes.

How unafraid to bury his face he is you soon get to witness. You can feel the bridge of his nose glide from lip to lip, and the feathery light brush of his lashes at the base of your inner thighs. 

Yuzu’s tongue has always been cheeky, but today, it feels particularly adventurous and slippery. He can’t help but fumble about with his hands simultaneously. Beginner’s zeal, you knew it’d come.

The bucking of your hips comes too naturally to be controlled. Nor does Yuzuru know just how to hold his head back from thrusting. This little shit. Whatever is in those rice cakes, it made him a new level of keen. Soon enough, his tongue has riled you up plenty, and his focused eyes have become entirely monotone. Only preoccupied with one thing and one thing alone. 

Just how much he dedicates his attention has to be a thing for the books. You feel like blowing up and moaning like crazy at this point, but manage to at least puff out. He knows you’re way too close. There’s a little smile you feel in the way he eats you.

„So that mouth gets a cum filling,“ you twist your fingers out of Yuzu’s wild hair. It’s all tangled again. The return of the mad professor. He has all the space in the world to bop his head as much as he wants now. One, two, three plushies fall over and tumble around the mattress. He doesn’t notice.

The warmth between your legs has been growing ceaselessly. Now, ready to brim. With Yuzu’s agile tongue slipping back and forth over your clit in erratic intervals, you feel like losing your mind with every lick. The way his lips excite you gives off the lewdest sucking noises. All wet, and resolute like a chess player not to drop you off that high. 

He keeps his laps consistent, leans in more, and eventually— tips you off the edge with a fast sequence of letting his tongue dip under the hood of your clit. And letting it stay there, all until your legs start twitching. You groan out.

Yuzu gets a big. Fat. Cum filling indeed.

Your breath goes short, you grab his shoulders. Growling, cursing. Trying to ride the wave, but the contractions catch you harder than you thought. You can practically feel how much you ooze out and ruin his face. 

Bratty he is, Yuzuru forms his mouth all kissy and pecks your clit through every throb. Until the shockwaves subside, letting your shaking thighs off the hook eventually.

Too fucking intense. The surge of pleasure keeps on making your mind hazy long after your orgasm is over. To add fuel to the fire, Yuzuru rubs his belly, as if he just had two happy meals for the price of one.

Pulling off, his face is all bright and slobbery in its remaining smile. His lips are cum-glazed, and more than just plain sweat trickles down his nose. Nothing better than a facial right in front of twenty plushies. Who knew Winnie the Pooh himself would ever be eye witness to Yuzu’s sporty head game. 

Friendly bear he is, it doesn’t seem to bother him. From unsuspecting comfort teddy on Yuzu’s lap 23/7 to live-action porn audience. First row, no popcorn though, but HD sound quality and claims to free spit. The guy is living his absolute best life, isn’t he.

„You… growling. That was pretty hot,“ Yuzuru says. His jaw is hanging all loose and most of his speech is slurred. Yuzu looks all satiated. In your mind, you pat yourself on your own shoulder. Boyfriend corruption: almost complete.

„Like being spoiled? I want you to clean that up.“

Yuzu squeaks out giddy in reply. A moment later, he goes back to lean down again, swallowing and licking up cum from your drenched, swollen lips. His slurping noises are indulgent, wet, and desperately slutty. He succeeds in cleaning you up, but keeps on messing up himself even more. Yuzuru delights in rubbing his whole face into your dripping pussy until his eyebrows are sticky, his lids and cheeks are damp, and you feel capable to get up from the pillow.

Despite not being underneath the blanket, you notice that your feet aren’t that cold anymore.

He sits on the bed like a mermaid, huddled close to you. Normally, he would visibly sort his thoughts like that, but now, all he does is blink and nuzzle up against you with his forehead. 

Settling, Yuzuru doesn’t seem to know where to put his hands and you take it as a chance to pepper them with kisses. The back of the hand, the palms, the wrists. It calms you, and it calms him.

You feel entirely drenched, refreshed and relaxed at once. How Yuzuru cuddles against your legs makes your heart warm, and the moment is blissful.

One lavender steam cloud later, you feel like moving again. Maybe there are two restless people in this relationship. The thought of it is funny.

„We could go on a little more,“ eventually, you pat his head. „With something different if you want.“

„Do you still have energy?“ he asks. His breath is somewhat slowing already. It feels hot against your leg.

„More than before, actually.“

He sits up. Looks like you surprised him again. Little does Yuzu know how much he shakes you up.

„Really?“

You nod, twirling at his bangs now.

„I have an idea. So… you remember what’s been waiting in a box for a month.“

You can tell he knows exactly what you mean. No doubt he didn’t take very long to recall it, either. That tells you something.

„Can we use it?“

That answer was fast.

„It’s what I’ve been thinking.“

„We’ve been putting this off but I’m still curious.“

And your guess was correct. It’s definitely been on his mind.

„Yeah, you’re right.“

Promptly, you direct your eyes to the bedroom cupboard to your far left. The one containing various kinds of skating blades in slender packagings, tracksuits in dark colors, fan presents, and mail orders. Among them, a larger jet black box—

That neither Yuzu nor you dared to open given it was a product of a reckless button click at 2 PM.

Admittedly, after Yuzu passed you a way too expensive bottle of sake that he got for his birthday. Since he’s allergic to alcohol, somebody thought she could give it a sure try instead. Pouring $200 into the sink would have been the better option.

Said black box soon sits between the two of you, wide open to reveal the truth of what sake can do.

„Oh man. What have I done.“

That button click comes back to bite you big time.

„This looks, I think, realistic—?“

At least on the surface.

Of course, you drunk fool had to order the ‚sculpted, real-life imitation‘ version. You couldn’t be any more embarrassed. No more alcohol in this flat, that’s for sure. What else to do but take it in stride now that the box is already open, though.

„I uh, think so. At least with the veins.“

„It’s… it is really big.“

At least three times Yuzu’s flaccid size if you don’t hallucinate right now.

„I don’t know how I’m not gonna tear you apart. How many inches are these, 12? My drunk self is too ambitious.“

Maybe you shouldn’t have used that word and said ‚reckless‘ instead. Because ambition surely and habitually triggers a prancing and posing Shia LaBeouf shouting ‚do it!‘ in Yuzuru’s athlete brain. You can see it in his eyes and already regret thinking out loud.

„We can still try.“

„If that’s a good idea or not we will probably see,“ you begin to inspect the contents one by one up close. „I think I bought a weapon.“

„Now I know why they call guns a strap,“ Yuzuru equally peaks over the edge of the box, looking like his future just flashed before his eyes.

„Next time I pass the sake to your coaches or something,“ you end up pulling out the red harness kit that glaringly lays on top of the contents. All looking very adjustable indeed. „That’s what my midnight fantasy seems to look like.“

„Uh—huh!“

Yuzu snakes his hand into the box himself now. Pulling out a transparent, orange-pink 13 oz bottle with a bubbly-looking fluid inside. Gaudy stuff, but a generous amount.

„Mister Lube. My new best friend,“ he says, laying the bottle aside and then pulling off his black PJ shirt. Although he strips quite leisurely, you can tell that Yuzuru is a little tense in his torso. That you will attend to in a minute, you think. But beforehand, you let your eyes roam for something else.

„They probably have something to clean it with in there as well. Let me see.“

You find that even if you might have ordered all this pretty tipsy, the toy set does have its quality. Just before you want to ask Yuzuru to warm up, he visibly ponders, then cleans his pajamas off the bed to make space for a little area.

„If you don’t mind, I stretch my muscles,“ Yuzuru puts aside a couple of plushies, too, but keeps Pooh close, assuming his typical pre-training stances.

He knows himself. That’s good.

„Tell me if you need help for the thigh stretching.“

In the meantime, you ease into the red kit and arrange the box contents on the bed. There seem to be fifteen things going on at once. If this would be public in the slightest, you believe the two of you must look like a bunch of eccentrics to anybody who’d watch you.

Ten minutes later, Yuzuru might just be in Olympic shape, has downed almost half a liter of spring water in one go. You know that he could probably deliver a quintuple jump on the spot if he wanted. The strap-on is all assembled, clean, and you have stored away the practically empty box of sake sinnery.

„I’ll skate cross-eyed and cross-legged tomorrow,“ Yuzu stares right at your crotch, face buried in his palms. Only his eyes peek through the fingers. „Godspeed to my ass.“

You sure as hell won’t disagree. This strap is a threat.

„I don’t know why I had to order supersize out of all possible things. You need a prayer circle after this. Where’s Mister Lube?“

„Here, over here,“ Yuzuru passes over the bottle, shaking it.

„I’ll relax you as good as I can, okay. Before I get arrested for possession of weapons without a license.“

And annihilating Yuzu’s insides with that XXL dick that he sure as hell doesn’t just want halfway in. Lord have mercy. You can only shake your head at yourself for buying this.

„Honestly though. Does it really fit in?“

Yuzu leans his face toward your hip, now on all fours, taking the sight in. He still can’t believe his eyes.

„We’ll see. Let your body decide, not your pride okay,“ you poke the tip of the strap-on into his left cheek. Hoping that it takes away some of the tension, at least. „And you can still tap the mattress.“

„Okay. Tap the mattress.“

He nods quite avidly. Same protocol as always. No spoken safewords, only something that Yuzu can make use of with his reflexes. Speech? Nothing you can both count on as soon as horniness kicks in. 

You tried that for the first two weeks and quickly settled for tapping instead. Especially because Yuzu likes to have fingers in his mouth every so often.

„I mean. You just did like five splits, didn’t you. Warm-ups always help. If your ankle doesn’t fall off?“

That mini workout was more than just impressive, in fact. And still, you eye Yuzuru’s notoriously injured foot. The slim little fella has a long history of recovery behind him.

„The ankle is decent, the usual stuff.“

„I wish we had a smaller toy to start out with,“ you scratch your head. That might be the one thing that’s been missing from the box. „We still have Mister Lube, anyway. Watch this,“ you pick up the orange bottle, flipping the cap open. „It’s actually scented! Worth ruining the bed if you ask me.“

On goes the fluid, you rub it all across the length of the dildo. Must be cherry flavor or something. Yuzuru sure makes big eyes.

„I knew I could count on Mister Lube.“

„Yeah, we use lots. And I’ll be very gentle.“

The cherry scent is gladly much less tacky than the bottle itself, not too artificial-smelling either. You squeeze out a second load and distribute it over the strap-on just to be sure. Yuzuru’s breath goes faster.

„Can I ask something beforehand?“

„Go right ahead.“

„I wanna suck first if you…“

Who knew. The lube probably made his mouth water.

Being honest, you think that it might be a good idea to get this going. Better than blowing his pretty back out right away and making a mistake, even if he is much less tense now.

„I don’t mind, Yuzu. You already have some chapstick on, right? Here.“

You level your hips to line up with his mouth more easily. You can tell that Yuzuru, after some heavy blinking, eventually braces himself. There’s nothing more telling than his tunnel vision plastered all over his face. His eyes, lids heavy, are hypnotized and seem darker. Yuzu’s bedroom gaze is the best in the world.

„Okay, I’ll start.“

A first kittenish lick. A second. A third. Then, brave lips — enclosing the tip. He audibly nips and swallows.

A few more licks, and repeat. Mister Lube seems to taste pretty good. You bless the shady company that manufactures the black box of sin for once. 

You let Yuzu explore, pump his hand around the shaft, lick from all directions he fancies. Compared to his wrist, the dildo doesn’t really fall short in diameter, but with Yuzu’s face up close you are relieved it’s not a complete David versus Goliath match. 

Soon enough, he musters the courage to open his mouth a little wider, cramming a bit more in than just the tip. You can’t deny you’re getting turned on again with the way he slurps and hums around your dick. With the minutes, he becomes bolder, moving his head.

Even if the lube gathers at his chin and seeps down to the bed, he keeps on sucking, now with a first pearl of sweat lingering on his forehead already. You’d never think it’d make him break a sweat. To be fair, he just did fifty jumping jacks in the warm-up.

„Want me to move?“

Two nods. You glide in, let your hips do the work how they want to. You don’t trust your online shopping choices, but your tempo, at least. Yuzuru is making all choked up noises trying to gobble up all the girth he gets, his fingers entangled in your harness. It keeps him in a steady place.

You can work from that, angle a few superficial thrusts into his mouth to get the saliva flowing. The blotch on your bed is already pretty nasty. The slow pace is apt enough to fill Yuzu’s mouth with spit bubbles that begin to foam out bit by bit.

After two more minutes of light back and forth, Yuzuru pulls off to speak.

„Please do it stronger. I don’t mind being hoarse.“

Not a second later, all he does is slurp up a very dripping shaft again. With difficulty jamming it in past the first few inches, but determined, anyway. You didn’t expect anything else.

Yuzu’s lips and eyes are all glossy by now. The portion of lube-infused spit has accumulated at his jaw already, soon to travel down to his throat. 

Stronger, he says. Why not.

„Okay, get ready.“

„M—hm!“

An abrasive jab follows a shallow one. If it wasn’t for the lube, your dick would scrape right down his upper throat. But this way, the first dip goes in with sufficient slip and slide, not leaving Yuzu with too much dick in his neck for long. All your strap-on does is bounce right back.

What you do hear is Yuzu’s gag reflex… claiming its rights. Still understated, but nevertheless there. After three more thrusts, you decide to stay about halfway balls deep, watching Yuzuru squirm, even try to shove in about an inch more by pressing his head forward. His breath is clean and deep through his nose. You put a checkmark on the my-boyfriend-has-asthma list in your mind.

„You look good with a dick in your mouth.“

What is supposedly a ‚thanks‘ ends up as gargling and choking. Yuzuru starts getting wet eyes at this point. Even a little bow of his head is something that doesn’t slip past your attention. Mannered guy, isn’t he. 

That praise makes him do the horniest noises is also something that you make a memo of. Along with seeing how it’s rendering him all aroused. You’ve seen those neck veins and red chin spots come out plenty of times to know.

A couple more thrusts are not a bad option, you decide. Although it seems that Yuzuru had the idea to hollow out his cheeks that very moment. The vacuum first makes your cock plunge in a little too fast than intended, then naturally pulls Yuzu’s head forward once you move your hips back again. 

It’s why the second thrust catches him off guard, flattening his lips and making your dick slide into his throat with air going in. Yuzu ends up choking hopelessly. It doesn’t look like he’s retreating his head in the very least, however.

Instead, you feel his hands grab at your either hip to secure himself in place. A glance from above, slightly angled sideward, shows you just how hard and throbbing Yuzu’s own dick is, tipping against his stomach. 

Once again, you make an impressed-my-dear face that he doesn’t overlook. His cheeks go hollow again and he keeps up the indulgent speed. Increasingly getting rougher and more pain-craving. Messier. Desperate. 

Yuzu opens his mouth wider not to have his teeth get in the way. It’s serious business now. His throat makes the most disgusting, grunting noises. Oh. Shit. Yuzu’s greed and sloppy lips make your body burn up. Soreness is the very least he’s headed for.

„Wow, Yuzu. Wow.“

It’s not something you didn’t know already. This man is without a singular doubt a lunatic. You whisper more praises to him, your hands grabbing hold of his head to sustain the movement rhythmically. 

Yuzu’s gag reflex has proven to only rebel every other thrust so you can pound away, at that time already giving up even the mattress that must be sopping wet to its core with Yuzuru drooling all over it. Too late for a towel altogether but fuck it.

Yuzu takes the choking well. He’s leaking spit all over, surrenders to your hands. Even if he doesn’t manage to deepthroat the entire length of the dick, he manages an awful lot of inches. By now, he’s gotten the hang of not letting too much air in. All while relaxing his muscles. 

Beautiful hums, chokes, little whines. Too bad your phone isn’t close by. Recording this has to be your very next bucket list entry. You’re glad he asked about this.

You go on thrusting for a few more times until you feel your hips going tired. Once his nose starts getting all runny, you naturally slow down even more. Eventually, you help Yuzuru pull his head off. His lips are all puffy.

„B—woah,“ it’s all he can moan and splurt out, and you help him wipe the glob of saliva and snot from his chin with your sleeve. 

Your pajama shirt might be ruined, but not as much as Yuzu’s tonsils. Who knows just how many times you were deep and fast enough to make them throb from all that friction. Seven, eight times? His food for tomorrow can be a light soup at best. Not even you were as sore after riding and sucking every last drop out of his dick last Monday. 

You’re glad he has the rice cakes going through his system right now. Poor onlooker Winnie the Pooh is probably traumatized by now. There’s only so much crazy dicksucking a bear can handle watching. And still, he gazes at the two of you— in good spirits as ever, cheeks big and bright. In a way, he looks like Yuzu in this very moment.

„How you like it?,“ you softly caress his pinkish lips. „I need to know how many stars to leave on the website.“

It takes a few moments until he can form words again. His speech is fast. He’s still staring at the dildo.

„It was in so deep and, and on my tongue. The dick veins, I could feel them. They were like, like, it was massaging my lips. And I almost thought I could swallow it.“

You raise your brows. Lord knows how deep your cock was inside his brain, but he still picks these things up.

„Attention to detail. Nice.“

Maybe 4.5 stars are a fair deal. At least for throat fucking. The rest — remains to be seen.

„Did I do well?“

His eyes widen. The question is genuine. It’s not something you’d think he would ask. Whenever he trained, he would always rely on his own judgment.

„Ask yourself first, you were the one feeling it.“

That’s not the answer he expected, and he ends up getting red cheeks.

„I liked it,“ he stammers. „Was really hot.“

„It’s what I saw, too. Good job, babe.“

He’s blushing even more now.

„Ah— I think I tried my best.“

You smile and cup his slobbery face. So you’ve taken his throat virginity in the most spit-heavy way possible. He looks cuter than ever.

„Listen. You’re a champ. If I could, I would cum deep inside of you.“

„I think, that would be romantic,“ his wet lips break into an upbeat smile. Yuzu’s eyes get all crinkly.

„You bet.“

A big doting kiss for Yuzu’s forehead is the only thing your brain can conjure up at this point, so you briefly lean down to do it. Maybe Shia LaBeouf is not just exclusively at home in Yuzu’s imagination. 

What you have to admit is that Yuzu’s overflowing athlete’s spirit has easily taken over your hips. You didn’t think you could move properly for that long. Maybe you still have some energy reservoirs left.

„And, and now?“

„I can stuff you with more dick. Up to you. Mister Lube didn’t run out yet. And if Pooh still likes watching.“

By instinct, Yuzuru’s hands snake behind his back to grip his ass, stroking what he knows is your delightful next target. You can tell by his eyes that there are a thousand scenarios going through his head.

„Pooh likes this… very much. He’s never seen something like that before. I think he is curious.“

It doesn’t take a Sherlock’s mind for you to know that he means— himself.

„I mean. I was surprised. If that monster fits into your little throat,“ you add, „anything is possible.“

That’s the final straw.

„I’ll do it,“ he says, moments later on all fours, face lowered and then rested sidewards on the bed, spreading his ass cheeks. Decision making when it comes to strap stuff is Yuzu’s forte, you jot that down in your invisible sex life journal. Not one bit of hesitation. By the looks of it, a very twitching entrance is waiting for you.

Testing period is over.

„Alright. I got something to drive home.“

Now that you think of it. If his ass is already only half as naughty as his mouth, you’ll need the help of a higher power.

„Shit. I think, it relaxes.“

At the expense of your mattress and blanket getting even more greasy with lube, you ease in the tip after massaging it into his sphincter. Yuzu’s ass still has to deal with that new sensation given how his leg muscles are going all bonkers. But indeed he’s grown receptive.

„Comfy like that?“

„B—big…“

„Attention, just a little tweak before I go on. Here.“

You softly press down on his spine with your palm entirely flat, and his back obliges immediately. His arch is leaving you breathless. 

Yuzu’s head and chest are snug and soft against the bed while his ass is far, far up. He smiles seeing you venerate his back, he didn’t miss your reaction in the least. No surprise a third of your cock gets sucked into his ass just moments later. It caught you off guard.

Judging by Yuzu’s little yelp and his eyes rolling back, the way you went right into him has found pleasure. The bedposts creak a little because Yuzuru’s legs are shivering. As is his voice.

„I love it, I lo-, please, my, my ass!“

„Can I move?“

„Yes, please!“

The arch did the trick. You love your boyfriend. What follows is a slowly plunging series of rewards, ten, eleven times, pulling at his gripping asshole until it surrenders into going loose. Yuzuru has almost accommodated a third of the length you’re engraving into his ass. You’ll definitely keep using that brand of lube.

„Here, babe. I got a present for your prostate.“

Yuzu is making your favorite lawless face when you hit the spot, controlling the base of the dildo with two your fingers going around it like a cock ring. He looks as if someone just handed him a trophy too big to carry. From his perineum, a thread of lube comes dripping down with a squelching noise. The poor sheets. It’s another virginity taken.

In the meantime, Yuzu grabs hold of the duvet with unsteady hands. His entire torso is nothing but a shaky mess. So erratic. And sweaty. And docile. And beautiful. You want to award him plenty, your little present from above, the jittery boy underneath you.

Pounding away and making him grit his teeth is worth heading for a mean cramp, you don’t care. Watching how your cock is plowing in and out of him at jerky angles with the absolute lewdest, bubbling noises recompensates for anything. 

Yuzu’s rolling eyes have become spaced out and teary, making him look like a crying saint about to enter the golden gates of heaven. Who knew angels had black hair.

With every stroke, his ass becomes every bit accepting to the point of almost glaring open to let you thrust in. Thank God. You compliment yourself on not falling short of the arguably lofty promise to relax him. Moaning Yuzu’s little ass is swallowing it all. 

By the time, his rectum is going hollow and sticky, welcoming every move of yours by giving you ample right of passage. During some thrusts, you don’t even see his sphincter hold on to the dildo at all. His ass is almost as dilated as his loose mouth itself. Your thrusts are working on their own again at this point. What instinct is propelling you, who knows. 

You love the sight and the happy squeals. You tease him with more speed. Not without effect, your hips lunge and aim deep all the more. You penetrate him far enough to start an excavation for ancient relics next Monday. With the tempo increasing, so does the chesty volume in his voice.

„It’s,“ he cries out, „in my belly! Ah! Ah, shit! Shit...“

You see Yuzu let go of the duvet with his left hand. It promptly darts way down to his abdomen where his fingers grope around.

„I can feel it,“ he whines, „It’s rubbing there, it’s a big bump!“

You sure won’t deprive your own hand from that sensation and reach right down, too. Which means leaning forward— and stuffing your strap even harder into his guts. Yuzu gasps out loud. Both your hands meet fondling about, cupping the sensitive area in search for the imprint of the dildo.

What Yuzu says is not understated. His slender little belly is all bulged out in the bottom quarter. Since he’s so thin, it’s almost scary how much your cock just dents him out and twists around.

„Jesus, Yuzu,“ you let your hand roam next to his, even lightly squeezing the area. It’s what really riles him.

What you thought was the maximum for him to take turns out to be nothing but a mere start. Yuzu is so obsessed to feel the bulge more that he starts bucking his ass onto your cock with the most unbridled voice cracks.

You can’t lie. His moans make your jaw drop. His usually so controlled body on the ice is now wrecking and writhing itself to get more dick. 

A thin line of sweat goes on a pilgrimage down his spine already. He impales himself more, gyrates his hips more, whines out more. You wonder how he keeps it together and doesn’t spritz all his cum over the bed and the floor tiles.

It’s the sheer force of will. Always hungry for the next level. You can’t help but admire how enduring he is. And that’s just the first time.

Yuzu’s feet have become agitated on the sheets, responding to every thrust by dangling and swishing around. Yesterday, his right ankle was all stiff and even a bit swollen. Now, it’s moving all over the place. Looks like doggy style is putting all the tension off the ligaments. It’s something else you take deliberate note of.

After five more thrusts and hearing his whimpers getting all drawn-out, eventually, you retreat for a break, letting your cock rest on his left ass cheek. Yuzu inhales, gathering himself. He looks at you with big, glazed bambi eyes. Maybe even a bit incredulous.

„Am I, am I gaping?“

You don’t have to check twice to know.

„All lose. If you knew how far I can see inside of you. Hole new world.“

„Y/N!“

He can’t hold eye contact now.

„Naughty, huh. But I like what I see.“

Goddamn great ass. You firmly smack Yuzu squarely across his right butt cheek. He twitches, clenches, bites his lips more. They tremble.

„Ah! You tease!“

„Want me to put it in again?“

Wild nodding. Looks like Yuzu’s usual voracity on the ice does an easy, albeit not entirely seamless transfer to bed, too. He still ogles what is about to stretch him out again with due respect. He still can’t fathom something this massive was inside of him, you can tell.

Once you start moving again, you notice his feet and thigh muscles violently jerking. His prostate has gotten all sensitive. Probably all spongy and large by now.

You decide to angle yourself differently and take a deep breath. Impossible to draw this out any longer. From the vicinity of Yuzu’s pillow, you grasp the Winnie Pooh plush toy and maneuver it into his awaiting embrace. He holds it tight in an instant.

With impatient hands, you fumble around the bed for the lube bottle until you find it next to his right foot. Two, three, four generous squeezes onto his asshole, not very accurate at all. Several fine, oily traces end up trickling down his inner thighs. You don’t even bother closing the bottle properly anymore. Too much adrenaline.

„Grab those sheets and Pooh, Yuzu, grab hard.“

„I got it!“

„Time I fuck you up. If you’re ready?“

„Yes, make me cum, make me cum! Please break my ass,“ he’s whimpering. So badly. „I want it! I want it all inside.“

Mister Lube has a last job to handle.

Yuzu has crammed three fingers into his mouth once you get a hold of his hair and deliver the last hard movements. He takes the blows all babbling and sucking himself off. How his ass is not completely falling apart by now is a miracle of nature. Or maybe, just the blessing of his daily training.

The room is heavy with the scent of sweat and cherries. He’s loosened his core so much that sliding in is not a question of you avoiding a cramp anymore, but technique. You feel focused to zero in and not miss the sweet, tender spot. It makes him mewl the first time you push your dick tip right into it. 

The second time, his eyes get big and fluttering.

„Please. Please, hurt me,“ he salivates, then eventually, grabs his plush harder. „Hurt me bad. I’m really begging you.“

Fast to oblige, you claw your hands around his waist and pull his body backwards. The ten nails digging into him are only the last needed set-up. The last jab comes in crisp, landing a severe and punctuated shock. Yuzu’s ass smacks up hard at your loins. The pain quickly snakes right up his spine and leaves his face contorted.

„Oh fuck…!“

Small, shaking Yuzu cums like fifty fireworks going off at once. Not even releasing his screams into the duvet really helps to mute out the heaviness of the first waves. You keep your cock right in place and let it buffer into his prostate at will. 

Yuzu’s legs kick and tangle under you like pasta in boiling water. He cries and groans and curses, and cries out even more. You can see his entire back muscles at work now, going like clockwork. His moans each sound so ecstatic, it registers as a different language to you. He spirals far into his orgasm, sobbing, and it looks beautiful.

„Amazing, Yuzu.“

His semen lands all over his sternum and the sheets, shooting out in several bursts, one more pumping than the other. It’s almost as if all that strawberry juice converted nicely into a blotchy, white fluid. 

His dick is still tensing up completely sensitive. Releasing cum, up until his legs stop going all over the place. Yuzu doesn’t let the sperm cool for twenty seconds that he already reaches down to pick it up, jerking his cock a last dozen times, only to bring to his mouth what his fingers collected. He sucks up all of it.

„Delicious, baby?“

„M—hm!“

„So nicely milked.“

His relished expression. You imagine that this must have been how the gods first tasted nectar.

While he licks away, Yuzu goes limp head to toe with you carefully pulling out your dick. Inch by inch. Not pulling. Only gliding.

Once you’ve removed the tip, he collapses into a sniffing, giggly puddle of serotonin. Crying, even when you lend him both your hands to lay his face into.

He’s so gorgeous. 

Breathing hard, sweaty, drooling and messed up. His body is so steamy and loose, splayed out all the way before you. His entrance has turned all pink so beautifully. Hot. As. Fuck.

Most psychologists would envy you for being able to gaze this far into Yuzuru Hanyu’s innermost clenching being. How his ass is going to close until tomorrow’s competition, you don’t know. 

Time to pray he won’t digest these savory cakes too fast. Then again, he didn’t eat properly at all. His body is probably soaking up all the fruit and rice in their entirety. 

You pat his lower back gently, making sure to lay him down into a sleeping position already. Pooh is right by his side. Yuzu’s legs are still so dangly.

He’s really let go completely. You’ve not fucked his ass, but his soul.

You want to thank him for trusting you so much. Beside the shady black box manufacturer. 

The bed is a glorious mess.

Removing the strap-on harness makes you feel just how loosened your own limbs have become, too. Come to think of it, this might be your new heavy-duty workout. None of your friends know you do this kind of cardio involving the best ass in the whole city as your personal trainer.

Yuzu’s butt has turned you into a drenched, wobbly homo sapiens that will probably look in the mirror by tomorrow and proclaim herself a bodybuilder from those sheer muscle burn gains. 

When the two of you show up at the rink tomorrow, you both need hunky guys carrying you in by the armpits or something. 

And the whole world will wonder how Yuzu’s wonky ankle magically recovered overnight but he can’t sit.

Changing the duvet at quarter past twelve with an unmovable Yuzu on top of it seems like a thing of the impossible. It’s soiled, it’s sweaty, it would probably make it to the first page if a reporter ever got hold of it. 

But you take it pragmatically and opt for sleeping on Yuzu’s cleaner side of the bed intertwined. It’s surprisingly dry there. Big laundry day tomorrow, anyway.

The only thing you manage to do is reach for the window to open and to grab a glass of water from the bedstand to share. He’s chugging the remaining half down in one go. His hands? Oh wonder.

More than steady.

He calmed completely. After he puts down the glass, you scoot closer to him.

„Your foot — better?“

„Oh? I didn’t even think about it.“

He wriggles his left leg back and forth underneath the blanket, then concludes with a surprised face:

„It’s turning pretty well? I think you hit a nerve. Maybe you should split me in half more often.“

He shrugs. Yuzu’s serious face while saying that so dryly makes you laugh.

„Looks like it,“ you draw out the open lube bottle from beside you, finally closing the lid. „Do you… need a towel?“

„I just need you. I have to be disgusting for once.“

„I’ll scrape that all off tomorrow before we leave. Hot shower, five tons of shampoo. I’ll be breaking out the stuff you clean your skates with if I have to.“

That makes Yuzu chuckle. In fact, he beams a little.

„Sounds like something to look forward to.“

„I hope you can walk, anyway. Is it painful?“

Your biggest sorrow at this point. Taking his mind off was easy, but now he’s got boneless legs. Your conscience nags you for dicking him down out of all possible things.

„You have your weapon license now. I gotta admit… the last one…“

…was ass destruction 3.0, you complete his sentence in your mind. It’s nothing a normal human being could have stomached. „I’ll manage, though. I still feel my legs.“

„God, how does he do it.“

A smug „He’s Yuzuru Hanyu, that’s how, aw yeah!“  is what you imagine God’s answer to sound like. But instead, all you get is a little smile. Very well, from the little God in your bed.

„Pooh did this. When I squeezed him, I knew I could take it.“

He reaches to the middle of the bed. Five consecutive head pats for the bear plushie and Yuzu looks content already.

„Winning medals with just one working ankle is the same as doing it with a demolished ass to you, huh.“

„It’s not demolished, it’s improved and overhauled,“ he smiles. „Never felt any better. It was really good how you did this.“

It’s his strangest sport philosophy yet. But if you know one thing, it’s that Yuzu’s bizarre body hacks have gotten him the podium every time. You can already see him asking for another strap round before your mind’s eye. Before the next competition, at least.

„You honestly blow my mind.“

„And your dick, tomorrow night,“ goes Yuzu’s cheeky winner grin. There it is. Insatiable how you love it. You already feel the need to google ‚hip thrust strengthening exercises’. 

Maybe, if science advances to that point one day, you honestly clone yourself so double your capacity. And so that you can spitroast him. Maybe you order another dildo from the website and pin it to the wall, anyways.

„Must be Mister Lube who did all of this.“

„I want to buy more of it tomorrow. Any other groceries we need, anyway? I’ll be cleaning the floor, too. I hope I’m not too worn-out after skating.“

„We’ll do one thing after the other, alright. There are still rice cakes left for breakfast, those will get you through the day.“

You’ve seen how much of an energy burst the cakes gave him. 

„I really like those,“ he mumbles, then nuzzles into the pillow, sucking in your hair’s scent. Oh, it’s the moment you waited for. „Snickers diva… happy.“

A very cheery, puffy face slowly comes to rest beside you now, hair going in all directions. Infallible and ever-returning: Professor Yuzu’s explosive hairdo. Pooh is all clingy at his chest. A little worn from all the squeezing, but still with an amicable chuckle. You smile from ear to ear. It’s the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.

You kiss Yuzuru’s little nose and lips until he’s making sleepy sounds. Either this is a late-night mirage created by your very moan-tested ears, or he is actually purring. You make sure the Pooh plush resting at his chest faces him correctly, then clear away the remaining strawberries, shut the window, arrange the blanket, put on your pajamas properly.

The humidifier whirrs in the background while tiger baby does one last big yawn before drifting off. In a matter of two minutes, maybe even less than that. 

Just as you reach toward the bedstand to switch off the light, Yuzu’s hand curls into your shirt from behind. You turn, he is all dozed off. Not one leg fidgeting. However, talking in his sleep with his hand nestled into your PJs.

„Big hug please, Pooh mama.“

© 2017-2020 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. do not repost.  for entertainment purposes only. all portrayals fictive.

[purplesurveys]

1162

What is the youngest age you can remember back to? I was 3 and I had just woken up in a Winnie the Pooh tent with my sister, who was 1 at the time. Our parents let us go ‘camping,’ which was really nothing more than a tiny tent set up on the floor in their room.

What sports are you trying out for this year? Wakeboarding and rock climbing.

Did you wear your hair in a ponytail today? Yeah it was in a ponytail for the whole day as it helps me focus better at work. I’ve kept the ponytail on even though it’s 11 in the evening right now, but now it’s because it would be too warm with my hair down.

Who do you have on speed dial? Nobody. I’m not sure how to do that with my phone, and even if I knew how to I don’t know if there’d be anyone I’d want to put on speed dial.

What colors do you like to paint your toenails? I never do anything with my toenails except clip them.

Would it be cool to learn how to DJ at a club? Sure!

Where are you going to be three hours from now? It would be 2 AM by then but I highly doubt I’d be asleep by then. I just bought all 7 of the BTS Cold Brew Americano bottles (yep, so much happened while I was gone and I am apparently an Army now...) so I’m drinking from one of them tonight; and they are strong as fuuuuuuuck.

What job would you NEVER take, even as a last resort? Anything related to sex work. Not that I’m against it, but it’s just not for me.

If you broke your computer, would you be able to fix it on your own? Only if it’s something a hard reboot could easily fix haha. If it’s beyond that, I don’t think so.

If someone looked in your closet, how would they judge your style? That I need to update my wardrobe. Most of them were trendy at some point, but not so much these days. They would probably comment that I need to add more colors as well.

What was the shittiest hotel you’ve ever stayed at and why? I’m not sure we’ve stayed somewhere I absolutely hated. I know my dad hated our first hotel in Palawan since the whole vibe of the room felt cheap, the bedsheets looked kinda tacky, and the power went out at night, but that’s also just the luxury liner executive in him. Since I don’t really travel just to stay all day in our hotels, I personally haven’t had any experience where I was like, “never again.”

Have you ever gone on a boat and been sick the whole time? No; I get seasick but I can handle it. It’s carsickness I have a problem with.

Did you get a good sleep last night? Not really. My sleep actually felt very shallow and it really felt like I had been up all night even though I’m pretty sure fell asleep by around midnight. Anyway, I’m getting a 3-day weekend since it’s a national holiday tomorrow, so at least I have a lot of time to catch up on much-needed sleep.

What is the weather like outside? It’s pretty chilly and I feel a few breezes every now and then, but it’s not enough. I’m not sweating, but I also need to have my hair up in a bun because otherwise I’d be too warm. Phone says 27ºC.

If someone makes a spelling or grammar mistake, do you ignore or correct? Mostly ignore. I only ever correct if it’s me who made the mistake by accident.

Do oversized sunglasses actually look good on you? I’ve never tried putting any on, so I wouldn’t know.

What is the most overrated thing in the world? Milk tea. It’s great and delicious I like having my own occasionally, but it’s seriously nothing life-changing.

Have you heard any completely untrue rumors about yourself lately? No. I’d feel sorry for someone who would still be making up rumors in their 20s.

What is one word to describe your room? Progress. It’s come a long way since the breakup.

Have you ever kept something from the wild as a pet? Not in the sense that we caught it ourselves from the wild, but there was one time my sister won a baby chick at a fair when we were super young and we had him for a few days. We tried our best to care for him, but we just weren’t equipped and knowledgeable with what baby chicks need so he didn’t last too long.

Do your parents try to plan out your future for you? No, and I’m glad they aren’t the stereotypical Filipino/Asian parents that dictate how I should be living my life. My mom will sometimes let a comment like “get a boyfriend already” slip through, but she also knows I don’t have the patience for remarks like that so she doesn’t bring it up most of the time.

Do you think that surveys are a huge waste of time? I personally don’t think so. Any activity that helps me relax and gather my thoughts isn’t something I’d call a waste of time.

Are you wearing a hoodie today? No. I would hate to be wearing a hoodie right now lmao, I’d be too miserable in the heat.

Did you sleep alone the last two nights? Yes.

You’re single, right? Yups.

How long was your last phone conversation you had? It lasted like 10 seconds because when I picked up, their signal was very choppy and his voice wasn’t getting through at all.

Who was it with? A delivery rider who sent me a package that Bea apparently arranged for me :’) It has all my favorite Korean snacks and goodies and she even included a cup sleeve of Jin from BTS cos she knows he’s my favorite :(((((

What was it about? Like I said, I never got to talk to him on the phone because his signal was poor, though he probably called to ask for directions. He eventually got to my house.

Excited for anything? Binge-watching Run BTS and Bon Voyage all weekend, and digging into the Frankie’s order I got for delivery tonight.

Got laid last night, didn’t you? Nope.

Do you have drama in your life? Kind of at the moment, but it’s something I couldn’t give less of a shit about so I’m not even getting into it lmao. What’s something you really want right now, be honest? To be able to get out of the house and get my cafe visits on weekends back.

As of this minute, what is going through your mind? That these instant noodles I’m eating are really spicy.

Have you laughed until you cried? Many times.

What are you listening to right now? I can hear a neighbor’s dog barking every now and then and a few airconditioners in the neighborhood whirring.

What color are your shoes? I’m not wearing any right now, but most of my shoes are white anyway.

Can you crack your neck? Nope.

What is the last thing you drank? I took a sip from my banana milk right after I had a forkful of my noodles. Too spicy hahaha.

Where would I have found you last night at 11pm? I was cuddling with Kimi in bed while watching Bon Voyage.

What’s your plans for next Friday? So, tomorrow? Just watch a shit ton of BTS videos since they’re my latest obsession.

Does anyone hate you? Possibly.

Would it be hard seeing someone else kiss the person you like? Erm, don’t really like anyone at the moment. Do you think someone is thinking about you right now? No.

Could you go out in public looking like you do now? Probably to the nearest McDonald’s or 7-Eleven, but I wouldn’t go out to the mall altogether with what I’m wearing.

Who will you be sleeping with tonight? Just meeee.

Is there anyone you wouldn’t mind punching in the face now? Not in particular.

What do you have pierced? Just the ears. < Same.

Do you know anyone that smokes weed? A few people.

Where is the person you want right now? I’m not into anyone.

Are you too forgiving? I’m not forgiving in the first place.

Will this weekend be a good one? Continued from last night. I’m just glad I’ll get to relax for three days, but I don’t have any big plans for the weekend that would make it something exciting.

What is your favorite thing about being sick? I don’t think being sick is particularly fun, even if it means skipping school or work...

Have you ever done something you told yourself you wouldn’t do? Many times, which is why I’ve stopped using the phrase, “I’ll never do X.” I always end up doing whatever the thing is at some point.

Are there any people who don’t like you? It’s possible, but I don’t care.

The boy/girl you truly care about needs you at 3am, would you go? Only for my best friends, and maybe close family members. If you had to get a piercing right now, what would it be? I would get a nose stud or maybe a lip ring.

Do you have any bruises on you? Yeah I have one on my thigh. As usual, I have no idea where it came from.

Are you ticklish? Everywhere.

Ever liked someone who treated you like crap? Yes.

Who do you like right now? BTS? Lmao

What’s the largest age difference between yourself and someone you’ve dated? A month and a half.

Are you gonna get high later? Nope. I know Andi’s always gonna be around as my ~supplier~ if I ever wanna try it out, but I have no plans to any time soon.

What was the first thing you said when you woke up today? That I wanna take a shower.

Do you blow dry your hair? Only for special occasions when I immediately need my hair styled in a certain way.

Do you look decent when you wake up? Some days, I think so.

Have you ever liked someone older then you? I mean they’re all celebrities, but yeah.

Is it hard to make you laugh? Not at all, I like to laugh.

How late did you stay up last night? Around 3 AM because I was watching Bon Voyage, and also memorizing BTS fanchants hahahahaha HELP

Which is worse for you: being hot, or being cold? I fucking hate being hot.

How many drugs have you done in the last three days? Just the caffeine in my coffee and nicotine in my vape.

[remywrites5]

“You’re a slacker and I’m a straight A student and we were paired together for a group project and I just want you to get out of the way and let me do everything but you insist on helping for some odd reason ” AU with wolfstar please

           Remus froze in horror as he reached into the bowl of names to pick his partner for their history project. He looked out at the sea of his classmates and prayed for someone good. He knew no one in the room would really mind being his partner, because Remus was studious and took his academic seriously, so being his partner for a project basically guaranteed a good grade.

           His hand wrapped around a piece of paper and he lifted his up. “Sirius Black,” he said as evenly as he could while his heart sank. Sirius Black was a notorious trouble maker who barely did any school work and only got decent grades because he was smart and was good at taking tests. Most days he didn’t even bother handing in his homework and he spent most of class lounging back with his feet on the desk and his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

           Remus risked a glance over at Sirius and he found Sirius beaming at him. It was odd to see Sirius look so excited about anything school related. The only time Black got excited about anything was the stupid pranks he liked to pull with his friend James. At least Remus hadn’t ended up with Potter as his partner. James was even worse than Sirius but it seemed that misfortune had landed on Lily Evans.

           Taking his seat again, Remus began jotting down ideas for what point in history they should do. He immediately dismissed World War Two as he figured most people would be drawn to that era. He didn’t want to pick anything too obscure, knowing he’d be doing everything himself. There was no point in making things harder when it came time to research.

           Remus had been so busy with his list that he must have missed the teacher telling them to meet up with their partners. He was startled when Sirius Black dropped his books onto Remus’ desk and sat backwards in the chair in front of Remus to face him.

           “Hi there!” Sirius said, running his fingers through his shoulder length hair. “How’s it going, Lupin?”

           Remus jotted down a few more ideas before he forgot them and then glanced up at Sirius. “I’m fine, you?”

           “I’m fantastic,” Sirius said, leaning in towards Remus as if they were sharing a secret. “I was hoping I’d be paired with a cute boy for this.”

           Remus rolled his eyes. Sirius Black was a shameless flirt, everyone knew that. “I was thinking maybe we could do the Victorian era,” Remus told him, chewing on the end of his pen.

           “I was thinking ancient Rome,” Sirius said, wiggling his eyebrows. “You know with all those orgies and stuff.”

           Remus resisted the urge to roll his eyes once more. “We’re not presenting on orgies to the class.”

           Sirius grinned, putting his arm on the back of the chair and resting his chin in his hand. “You want to do the Victorian era where seeing someone’s ankle was considered scandalous.”

           Remus quirked an eyebrow at him in response. “You do know Oscar Wilde was imprisoned for sodomy during this era, right?” he said, making Sirius’ eyes go wide. Probably from the use of the word sodomy. “And Lord Byron was off fucking pretty much anything that would move.”

           Sirius hummed softly. “I guess that could be cool.”

           Remus sighed. “So glad you approve,” he said with a hint of annoyance. He was going to have to do the whole project himself anyway. He didn’t really need Sirius’ input anyway.

           “Wanna meet in the library after school?” Sirius asked, gathering up his stuff as the teacher announced the end of class.

           “Why?” Remus asked, frowning as Sirius stood up.

           Sirius laughed. “To work on the project?”

           “Oh, um, sure.”

           “Perfect!” Sirius said, beaming at him. Remus gave him a tentative smile in return. He was surprised to see Sirius so enthusiastic about a school project. “’I’ll see you there!”

           “See you.”

                                                           ***

           Remus got a few books about the Victorian Era and spread them out over the table he’d picked at the back of the library. He thought maybe Sirius would bail on their plans to meet up, which honestly suited Remus just fine. He’d get along better without having Sirius interrupting him. He chewed on his pen cap as he jotted down some notes.

           “Hey Remus!” Sirius said, sliding in the chair beside him. “Sorry I’m late. Peter got his hand stuck in a peanut butter jar…again. I swear it’s like being friends with Winnie the Pooh.” Sirius laughed and slung his arm over Remus’ shoulders with a familiarity that just did not exist between them. Remus wondered if it would be rude to shake Sirius off him.

           Remus cleared his throat and decided to change the subject back to school. He didn’t want to get to know Sirius Black. He didn’t want that kind of trouble in his life. Sure, Sirius was gorgeous, vivacious and intriguing, but he also had a tendency to get bored of people easily. It seemed like every month there were rumors of Sirius with another bloke. Whether they were true or not was another matter and Remus didn’t know Sirius well enough to be sure. At one point Remus had cared a great deal about the goings-on of Sirius Black but he’d more or less gotten over his stupid crush.

           “So I was thinking we could talk about the evolution of the English novel starting and it’s reflection of society at the time,” Remus said, writing down the names of a few authors he wanted to mention.

           “Sounds very swotty,” Sirius teased, reading the list over Remus’ shoulder. “I’m not going to have to read all those books, am I?”

           “No,” Remus said, shaking his head. “I’ve read most of the ones I want to touch on. Dickens, Conan Doyle, Austen, Bronte, Wilde.”

           “I have read Hound of the Baskerville,” Sirius offered, glancing at the list again. “I’ve seen the Colin Firth Pride and Prejudice. Does that count for anything?”

           Remus chuckled despite himself. “It’s more accurate to the book than the Kiera Knightly one.”

           “I mostly just watched it because Colin Firth is hot,” Sirius said with a shrug. “And I know about a Christmas Carol, even though I’ve never read it.”

           “Let me guess, the Muppet version?” Remus quipped, turning his head to look at Sirius and noticing just how close their bodies were. Their breath was actually mingling together.

           Sirius grinned. “It’s still the same story.”

           “I knew it!” Remus laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “What am I going to do with you?”

           “I don’t know…” Sirius said softly, bringing his other hand up and brushing his fingers over Remus’ cheek. “What are you going to do with me?”

           Remus felt his cheeks go red and he quickly turned away back to the safety of his books. “I’m thinking maybe we should talk about the poverty of the time and the classism at work in British society. Maybe talk about how a lot of novels had protagonists trying to improve their social standing – Great Expectations, Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, Oliver Twist.”

           Sirius listened to Remus ramble with a bemused smirk on his face. When Remus glanced back over he noticed Sirius was staring at him intently. It made Remus’ stomach clench uneasily.

           “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

           Remus’ jaw dropped. “I don’t see how that’s relevant – “

           “Is that a no?”

           Remus flipped the page of his notebook just for something to do to continue ignoring Sirius’ question. “It’s none of your business,” he finally responded after Sirius didn’t let it go.

           “I could make it my business,” Sirius said, licking his lips and smiling. “Why don’t you give me your number?”

           “Why?”

           “Because I want it.”

           Remus scowled at him. “Sirius, I’m not interested –“

           “Bollocks.”

           Remus’ frown deepened. “Not everyone is interested in you, Black. Y-you’re annoying and selfish and reckless.”

           “Flatterer,” Sirius said, his grin showing that he didn’t really believe Remus. “Come on, I’m not that bad, Lupin. I’ve got some good qualities too.”

           Remus huffed out a breath. “I don’t know you well enough to say if that’s true or not,” he informed his project partner. “We’ve never exactly spent any significant amount of time together.”

           “Let’s change that then, hm?” Sirius said, grabbing Remus’ notebook and scribbling down his number. “Text me tonight and we’ll pick a time this weekend to work on the project. I’ll come over to yours because my place is a nightmare.”

           “What?” Remus asked, blinking in utter confusion at Sirius. He wasn’t sure but he thought Sirius Black had just invited himself over to Remus’ house on the weekend.

           “I’ve got to get going but don’t do the whole project without me, okay?” Sirius said, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I promise I’m not completely useless.”

           Remus could do nothing but stare up at Sirius with a puzzled expression on his face. Sirius smiled at him and then went bounding out of the library. Remus looked down at this notebook and the number scrawled over the middle of the page. Remus tore the page out of his notebook since it was ruined anyway. He considered throwing it into the rubbish bin but shoved it into his pocket instead. He thought about ignoring Sirius’ request and just continuing on by himself. Instead he took the books up to the front desk and checked them out so that he could continue his research over the weekend. Even if Sirius didn’t show up to help him, Remus would be prepared to finish the project on his own.

                                                           ***

           Against his better judgment Remus texted Sirius later that night. He had talked it over with his mum during dinner and she had agreed to let Sirius come over on Saturday. She had been a bit surprised that Remus had asked to have a friend over. The only friend he’d ever had over before was Lily and they were such good friends that Remus didn’t really have to ask if Lily could come over anymore, she was always welcome at the Lupin house.

           You can come over tomorrow if you want.

           You texted me!

           Well yeah. You gave me your number.

           What time should I come over?

           Around lunchtime? My mum said she’d make us something if you want to eat here before we get started.

           I can eat anything I want?

           I mean as long as we have it.

           Can I eat you?

           Shut up. I’ll see you at lunchtime.

                                                           ***

           Sirius arrived at Remus’ a little before noon and he seemed energetic, practically bouncing off the walls. He ate his lunch with gusto, munching on the ham and cheese sandwiches Remus’ mum had made. Sirius had kept the conversation going with Remus’ mum and Remus just sat there eating his food, kind of in a daze. He hadn’t expected Sirius to put so much effort in to talking with his mum. Sirius was alarmingly charming and it seemed like he was attempting to make a good impression. Remus had no idea why.

           “Uh, Sirius and I are going to my room to work on the project,” Remus said, grabbing Sirius by the arm and hauling him up out of his seat. He practically dragged Sirius down the hallway to his room and shut the door.

           “Anxious to get me alone, huh?” Sirius asked, biting his bottom lip.

           “What are you doing?” Remus asked, searching Sirius’ face for some kind of hint that he was lying or being a prat. Instead Sirius just smiled at him.

           “I don’t know what you mean,” Sirius responded with a shrug. “I was just being polite. Am I not allowed to be polite to your mum who made me lunch?”

           Remus huffed, the air puffing out his cheeks for a moment and then causing the curls on his forehead to move when he released it. “You never put it effort for anything.”

           “That’s not true,” Sirius said softly, reaching out and playing with one of Remus’ curls.

           Remus worked his jaw for a moment. “This isn’t – you don’t –“

           “I don’t?” Sirius challenged, twisting his hand into the front of Remus’ jumper and tugging him forward slightly. “How do you know?”

           Remus stared at Sirius for a moment and then shook his head. “Why are you trying so hard, Sirius?”

           Sirius grinned. “Because you’re making things difficult for me.”

           “And if I stopped?” Remus asked, crowding in closer to Sirius.

           “Then things would be remarkably easier.”

           “You’d get bored of me,” Remus said, glancing down for a moment at Sirius’ mouth and how very, very close it was. “Probably quicker than all the others – “

           “Ugh,” Sirius groaned, dropping his head back against the door. “Is that why? Remus, come on. I thought you of all people would be above listening to that gossip.”

           Remus frowned. “Lily told me she saw you snogging Evan Rosier.”

           “Yeah, well, we all make mistakes,” Sirius grumbled unhappily. “I dated Evan for a month and when I dumped him the stupid prick started making shit up about me. He has been for months just to get back at me. I guess I really am unforgettable.”

           Remus placed his hands gently at Sirius’ waist, slipping his fingers under Sirius’ t-shirt to touch his skin. It was warm and soft and Sirius made a cute little gasping noise at the contact. “So I’m not just your latest conquest then?”

           Sirius shook his head emphatically. “I fancy you,” he said, pressing his nose against Remus’ jawline in a gentle, sliding it up towards his ear before playfully biting the lobe. “I have for a while now but you don’t exactly make it easy to get to know you.”

           Remus smiled and pressed a soft kiss to Sirius’ temple. “I suppose I don’t,” he agreed quietly, shifting his hand to splay against the small of Sirius’ back. “I’ll let you close, if you want.”

           “I want,” Sirius breathed out. “Fuck Remus, kiss me.”

           Remus turned his head and captured Sirius’ lips, pressing Sirius back against the wall. Sirius’ mouth dropped open and Remus took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside. Sirius moaned and carded his fingers through Remus’ curls until his hand was fisted in Remus’ hair at the back of his head.  

           Remus broke the kiss after a few life-altering moments and pressed his forehead against Sirius’. “Sirius…”

           “Does this mean you’ll stop making things so bloody difficult for me then?” Sirius asked, his kiss-swollen lips twitching into a smirk.

           “Absolutely not,” Remus said, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Sirius’ mouth. It would do Sirius good to keep having to put in a little effort. “Still interested?”

           “Fuck yes,” Sirius said, pulling Remus into another kiss. “If we get a good grade on the project will you be my boyfriend?”

           “We’re guaranteed to get a good grade,” Remus informed him, nipping playfully at Sirius’ lower lip. “I wouldn’t settle for anything less.”

           “Well then?” Sirius asked, raising a questioning eyebrow at Remus.

           “Yes,” Remus agreed to their proposed deal, sealing it with a kiss. Even though they were going to get a good grade on it, Remus knew Sirius would continue to work extra hard on it for Remus. Renowned trouble maker Sirius Black was going to put in effort into something school related because of Remus - because he wanted Remus. It was the best thing that had ever happened to Remus in his life.

           And if the project took twice as long to finish, because they couldn’t help interrupting their work to snog each other, well that was pretty spectacular as well.

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 58

~*~Sebastian~*~

The video call with Emma's family had been good until the last sentence. I wasn't sure if Andrea was legitimately saying she hoped we'd be together or questioning if we would. From the look on Emma's face, she was going with option two. Now I was slightly suspicious Eli's dislike for them wasn't unfounded.

It wasn't late when Emma called. I put my script on the table and stretched out on the couch before connecting the call. I stopped before a word left my mouth.

Emma said, "Hey."

"This is not the same happy face I saw less than two hours ago." She looked exhausted. While her puffy red eyes could be from the pool, I doubted it was chlorine. She'd been crying. A knot formed in my stomach. I spoke quietly, "What's going on, baby?"

What followed was a strange story of her parents ignoring her to talk to Amy then telling Emma she should pretend her life sucks so her sister won't do drugs. Oversimplified, but accurate.

Dammit, Eli was right.

Emma went back and forth between angry and sad. I honestly don’t know which was worse, but I didn't like either of them. A wave of protectiveness washed over me and I wanted to jump on a plane to go get her. She didn't need saving now any more than she did in the bar after the volleyball tournament. The difference was either I was there just in case she needed me at the bar or possibly my feelings for her were stronger now. Or both.

At the end of the story, she said, "It's not always this bad. Most of the time it's fine, besides the walking on eggshells. I didn't say anything because I try to be optimistic. If I come down here thinking the worst, I’m reading into everything and paranoid about everything I say. It only makes things worse. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad."

I double blinked, "Mad? I’m not mad at you. I’m pissed as hell at them. Your best friend kind of hates them. Your sister's a heroin addict and your parents signed over custody of you to a rock star who lived on the other side of the country. I never thought this was a vacation. You said I didn't need to worry, but I did anyway. I am going to need Eli's phone number so I can apologize for thinking he was an ass about your parents."

I felt better when she smiled, "He'll enjoy that and never let you forget."

"Never letting you forget stupid shit is the basis of most male friendships." I switched back to serious for a second, "Do you wanna leave? Say the word and I'll book the flight and talk to you until the Uber gets there. Meet you at the airport here and we'll lock ourselves in my apartment until we have to leave Sunday. Hell, you can just stay here and hideout. Maybe rearrange some more of my drawers."

"As wonderful as it sounds, no. Not tonight anyway. Amy and I will have a good time tomorrow. I'd feel bad running off. Sunday there will be family buffers. Monday, I don't know. Mom will be doing exams Tuesday while I'm with the girls." She shook her head, "I already severely limit my time here."

"Em, it's ok to not want to be around people who make you feel bad. Even if they're family. It's shitty, but it's your choice."

"Visit when my guilt about not visiting outweighs the potential bad time when I visit."

"I don't recommend guilt." I looked at her thinking what a shit situation this was.

"I don't want to fight to just be myself. Shouldn't be this difficult. I can understand them wanting to protect Amy, but I feel like they don't want to hear about me."

I couldn't fix this as much as I wanted to. "Last night when you knew I'd been upset did you feel incredibly helpless? Even though talking to me while I could see you was enough."

"Yep." She yawned. "I was out by the lake. I came back where it was light and we could see each other. We have good phone calls."

I agreed. Phone calls, even video calls, can feel distant or impersonal. Not for us. I'm used to keeping friendships going over the phone. If I couldn't have real conversations on the phone, I wouldn't be sane. "You’re tired."

"I don't want to hang up."

"Not going to. What was your favorite bedtime story when you were little?"

She looked at me like I was a little crazy. Not inaccurate. "Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree."

"I want you to go upstairs and get into bed. While you’re doing that, I’m going to find Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree. Then I'm going to read to you until you fall asleep."

“You’re going to read me a bedtime story?”

I most definitely was. I nodded with a smile.

“Best boyfriend ever.”

“Trying.” I could tell she was getting up. “I’m going to be quiet so you can sneak in.”

“My parents are awake in the family room. I have to walk through.”

“Just pretend you're sneaking me to your bedroom after a date. Put me in your pocket.”

She laughed and then the screen went dark. I could hear muffled voices. “I’m going to bed.”

“Amy said to be ready to leave at ten.”

“Sounds good. Night.”

“Sleep well. We love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Hmmm. Her voice didn’t hold the warmth those words should have. Not the way I’d want to hear them.

Less than a minute later I was out of her pocket. “I need the bathroom. I’m going to let you hang out in bed.”  She was quiet, but I could see she was concentrating on something. “Enjoy.”

Emma dropped the phone on the bed and I was staring at the ceiling when my text notification went off. Oh . . . the naked on a pool float picture. Peachless. Also, bikini bottomless. I was still smiling when the real girl came back on camera. “Nice ass.”

She crawled under the covers and propped her phone against the pillow next to her. “Remarkably self-conscious.”

“Then why’d you send it?” From the drinking game, I knew she’d sent nudes to someone before.

“Wasn’t self-conscious until after I sent. At the time it was fun and flirty. I knew you’d like it. After I hit send I thought I should make sure.”

“No, you were right I like it. A lot. Want a picture of my ass?”

“Your naked is ass is online and on film.”

“Bonus for you! Everything will be soon enough.” I still wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

“Really? Full frontal?”

“Not sure how full, but frontal. The movie I shot in Greece. Talk about self-conscious.”

“I tell you what. When your full-frontal comes out, I’ll send you full-frontal. We’ll be even.”

“Now I’m looking forward to the release.”  A dirty smile formed on my face, “Do I get to take it?”

“I don’t know who else would.”

I scrunched up my face because that hurt in all the good ways. I’m supposed to be reading a bedtime story not getting a hard-on. Guess where gonna see if I can do both at the same time. “Time for sleep.”

She smiled and tucked her hands under her pillow. I like seeing her relaxed like this even better than the naked pool picture. “You look so pretty curled up.”

“Did you remember to turn on the screenshot function?”

“I did.” I took one right now. “I’ll go sleep to that.”  

Winnie-the-Pooh sat down at the foot of the tree, put his head between his paws and began to think. First of all he said to himself: “That buzzing-noise means something. You don’t get a buzzing-noise like that, just buzzing and buzzing, without its meaning something. If there’s a buzzing-noise, somebody’s making a buzzing-noise, and the only reason for making a buzzing-noise that I know of is because you’re a bee.”

Then he thought another long time, and said: “And the only reason for being a bee that I know of is making honey.”

And then he got up, and said: “And the only reason for making honey is so as I can eat it.” So he began to climb the tree.

I kept reading until I was sure she was asleep. Instead of hanging up, I hit mute and put my phone on the arm of the chair where I could see her while I worked. I kept watch until she changed positions and knocked the phone onto the screen.

First thing in the morning, before heading to the gym, I sent her one of the pictures I took of her sleeping.

Sebastian ~ Hope your day is as peaceful as you look here.

Emma ~ Thank you. For everything. Listening, talking, bedtime story.

Sebastian ~ Confession. Didn't know Pooh before last night.

Emma ~ We can watch next time we're together.

Sebastian ~ Cuddled up watching Winnie the Pooh sounds good. Have fun today.

Emma ~ Have fun with the guys tonight.

 The next time I checked my phone, after working out, I had half a dozen text messages. All from Evans.

Chris ~ Yo!

Chris ~ Wake up

Chris ~ Lazy fucker

Chris ~ Are you home?

Chris ~ I’m in NYC

Chris ~ Let me know

Sebastian ~ Ass. I was at the gym. Chace is in town too. Meeting for drinks about five. Dinner. More drinks. You should come. I'd love to see you.

Chris ~ Sounds great. Tell me where.

 I sent him the address and was more excited about my night. Will, Chace, and now Chris were doing before dinner drinks then we'd meet up with the others. I'd made a ton of progress with the new role. After my shower I made some more notes, alternating with checking Instagram when I got a notification Emma had posted. A group walking down a dock pulling a couple of coolers was labeled, "Load in." A shot all of them on the boat. Emma was wearing the same bikini from yesterday with a pair of cutoffs. A couple of hours later she posted multiple pictures of them tubing, people sitting around laughing, others in the water, and a couple of them laying out on the deck. None of those had my girl. The next batch did. Same sort of pictures, but with her in.

This was much better than last night. She looked like she was having fun. The last one before I headed to meet the guys was her, Amy, and who I assume was Amy's boyfriend. He was in the middle. Emma's caption read, "Someone is missing."

I commented, "Miss you too."

I ran into Chace right outside the bar. We hugged and gave each other shit about our matching beards. We kept up the teasing and laughing all the way to the table. Will and Chris were already seated and had ordered beers. Chris downed half his beer in one drink, "Seb, man, you stood me up. I mean, I get helping your parents move."

Will laughed. Chace cocked his head to the side and smiled. Chris looked at them before turning his attention back to me, "What have you done?"

I put my beer down slowly. "Yeah, about that. I may have left out a bit. I was helping my parents move, but that's not why I stayed."

Chris put his hand on my shoulder, "You met a girl."

"I met a girl. We'd had a great first date and I wasn't ready to leave. I wanted to get to know her better."

Chris looked up like he was thinking, "I'm good with that." His eyes came back, "Still seeing her?"

I couldn't have stopped my smile if I'd tried. "Yeah. Emma."

Chris smiled, "Nice."

Chace looked at Will, "You knew this and didn't bust him in our group chat?"

Will shrugged, "Trust me, it's more fun this way." He shifted his eyes to me for a second before looking back to Chace with a smirked, "You've met her."

Chace pointed to himself, "I’ve met her?"

Will continued, "At Kirk's wedding she was with the singer from Boone's band and his wife."

I watched him search his memory, "Didn't I hit on her?"

"Why did you say that out loud?

Chace snickered, "To see him make that face."

Not sure what face I was making, but I changed it.

"I thought they were in a throuple."

I rolled my eyes, "Not a throuple."

"How is that even a word?" Chris screwed up his face.

Will handed Chace his phone, "This is her Instagram Emma_plays_90"

Unless Emma had updated the first was another throuple.

"Sister?"

"Twin."

Both smirked, "Nice."

Chace asked, "Which is yours?"

"Polka dot bikini."

They scrolled back in her timeline, turning the phone toward me when they got to the peach one.

Chris raised one eyebrow, "Please, tell me you have the uncensored version."

I nodded. Smiling again.

Chace handed Will his phone back, "You have better on your phone. Hand it over."

I knew this would happen and had left the naked one in my texts. I had to stand up to dig my phone out of my pocket. I had it unlocked and the folder full of her open when I got a text.

Emma ~ Tell Chris hi and nice to meet him.

I looked up. Chris was on his phone. "What did you do?"

Chris did a shit job of pretending to look innocent. "Does Instagram notify someone if you follow them?"

"If their account is set to private and they have to approve you, yes, it does." Another text.

Emma ~ And Chace...

I glared at him. He shrugged, "0oops."

"Now she knows we're talking about her." No idea why I said that. Of course, she knows we're talking about her.

Will looked exasperated, "She already knew."

Chace chuckled, "She DM’d me. Hope your pick-up lines have improved." He sat there saying each word as he replied, "I'd like to say they have, but probably not."

Will smacked the back of Chace's head, "Stop it. You know how he gets."

One of the side effects of insecurity is jealousy. I get jealous. And in an all-time dick move I don't like it when girlfriends get jealous. I think that falls under the topic of commitment issues. I shook my head at Will, "Not jealous. It's this combination of annoyed that I could have met her a year ago and relief I didn't because things would have gone very differently. I was not ready for Emma a year ago."

"How'd you get ready?"

One of the things Chris and I have in common is relationship and commitment issues. I had no trouble answering, "Years of therapy finally came together. I managed to step outside my walls and she ... she has this way of working around my anxiety. Makes it ok."

I handed over my phone, scrolled back to the beginning with the fish.

Chace winked at Chris, "Told ya the good ones were on his phone."

They scrolled through, stopping to look at each other before turning the phone around to me. It was on the deck at her place. She was sitting at the table, her leg pulled up with her foot on the seat, smiling at me. She'd looked beautiful in the fading light. The smile, the look on her face, still made my heart skip a beat. Any man would love to have a woman look at him the way she was looking at me. That was day four. It’s even better now.

Chris turned the phone back toward them, "You should have led with you'd blown me off because you met a beautiful woman who looks at you like you hung the fucking moon."

I shook my head, "I met a very kind and amazing woman who just happens to be beautiful."

Chace asked, "How'd you meet?"

"She thought I was a drug addict getting snacks before checking into the rehab place up the road. She

helped me find chocolate chips for mom to make fudge."

Chris looked surprised then smiled, "That's a good story."

"Nice, but makes questionable choices." Chris grabbed Chace’s hand to turn the phone back around.

Chace kept scrolling, "This hers? She have a kid?"

Not sure why the pictures are out of order. "No, one of her students. She teaches first grade."

Chris started laughing, his hand went to his chest, "This is perfect. I couldn't do this better."

I was lost, "What are you talking about?"

Chris waved his hand around, "Issues aside and knowing you're not always the good guy in the relationship. The Seb I know," He pointed to Chace and Will, “we know, is kind, sensitive, and has a big ole soft heart. Every time you date someone, I get scared. Legit terrified. I’m afraid every girl is going to break you, change you, and you won’t be sweet Seb anymore. When I think of a teacher, especially a first-grade teacher, I think patient, kind, empathetic, flexible but firm. If I was setting you up on a blind date, I'd look for those qualities. This could be perfect."

"Emma is all those things. And accepting. I had a panic attack the other night. She didn't bitch about me not waking her, or ask a million questions, she just asked what I needed to be ok. I needed a run. I came back and she was upside down on my couch and had switched my sock and underwear drawers. She took none of it on, just took care of me."

"Refreshing," Chris said and the others agreed.

"I took care of her after she got to her parents."

Will winced, "Eli right to hate them?"

My eyes went wide, "They ignored her to talk about Amy's boyfriend, and told her to pretend her life sucks so Amy won't do drugs and relapse."

Will grimaced, "Yeah, Eli is right."

I filled in the holes for Chace and Chris.

Chace frowned, "You’re supposed to go to rehab for cocaine?"

Chris put his hand over his mouth and pretended to look surprised, "Oops."

Chace again, "I picture a first-grade teacher as sweet and innocent. No cursing, drinking, and kinda shy with sex."

I lifted an eyebrow. The same side of my mouth curving up. "I get that, but no." I pulled my eyebrows down, pursed my lips, and shook my head. "I do like Monday mornings when she comes down looking like a first-grade teacher."

Chace leaned forward, "Are you in love with her?" He started to smile.

I hesitated and Will spoke up, "If you say anything besides yes you're a worse liar than you are an actor."

"That's harsh." I rubbed my hand over my beard. "Falling in love, yes. Haven't quite been pushed

over the edge."

"How long have you known her?" From Chace.

"Three weeks."

Chris was shaking his head," You don't need months to know what's right for you. Don't overthink it. If she's ticking all your boxes, your heart flutters when you see here, and her smile takes your breath away, it's long enough. Don't waste a second. Falling in love is the best feeling in the world, just fucking enjoy.”

Chace held his hand out, palm up, waving from Chris to me. "For the record, I wasn't going to give you shit. I was just curious."

The conversation changed to what had been going on with them. Chace was doing some anti-superhero Amazon series. Chris was signed on for an Amazon series too. Apparently, the future is Amazon. The beers kept coming and we were lit when Chris asked our servers to take a picture. He texted it to the three of us and we posted it to Instagram at the same time. Complete with a countdown. Because drunk boys.

We wove our way the block to the restaurant. Our group more than doubled in size. Dinner sobered us up. It was a good time. We were loud for no other reason than talking across a long table. Ok, we were a little loud anyway. Next was another bar. We got even louder there. The value of a night out with the guys should never be underrated. Being idiots and taking the piss out of each other was good for the soul, and bad for the liver. We closed the bar down, loading into cabs in groups heading in the same direction.

I barely remember getting home. The next morning, I woke up with a raging headache. First order of the day was Advil and a bottle of water. Second was checking in on Emma. After the bar, the first one, I hadn't checked my phone again. She knew how to reach me if she needed me. I'd figured she was having fun like I was. From the pictures and videos on Instagram plus the ones she'd texted me, I was right. They’d gone back to her parents after the boat and had a pool party.

[isitgintimeyet]

Road To The Aisles

AO3

Previous

Another chapter, and it’s full of fluffy fluffiness. This is the chapter where it ‘joins’ with the final chapter of The Ties That Bind (easy to spot where!).

The quote in the chapter is from Winnie The Pooh by A.A.Milne.

thanks to you all for reading and reblogging and commenting. It means a lot to me. Thanks, of course to @mo-nighean-rouge, @happytoobserve and @wickedgoodbooks for their support and input

Chapter 5: An Inaugural Nighttime

“Children should never have baths,’ my grandmother said. ‘It's a dangerous habit”

‘I agree, Grandmamma.”

― Roald Dahl, The Witches

Jamie tried to relax and enjoy one final coffee in peace while he had the chance. But every sound from outside had him up and looking out of the living room window, scouring the road for the dark blue Alfa Romeo.

He stood once more and glanced at his watch. “In another ten minutes she will be late,” he muttered to himself. “Just like her tae have planned it that way…  tae have me waiting at her convenience.”

He quickly climbed the stairs for a final check in William’s room. Everything was ready. Claire had made the cot up that morning with freshly laundered bedding chosen to match the grey wallpaper, a little sleepsuit folded on the bars of the cot.

Jamie smiled at the wallpaper. That had definitely been Claire’s choice, a subtle repeating pattern of the ‘Hundred Acre Wood’ map. Sometimes Claire came up to this room, just to study the wallpaper, running her fingers lightly along the tracks on the map.

Claire had also taken the time to wrap the fairy lights around a shelf, well away from any exploring hands in the near future. Jamie looked again and noticed that she had placed her beloved set of Winnie the Pooh books on the shelf, one of the few momentos of her parents. It touched him to recognise how willing Claire was to share her treasured possessions -- and her life -- with his son.

The doorbell disturbed his thoughts. Jamie looked at the clock on the opposite wall - five minutes early. He rushed downstairs and opened the door. Geneva stood there holding a sleeping William in his car seat.

“Boot’s open, can you just get the rest of the stuff?” Geneva brushed past Jamie and headed into the living room.

Jamie dumped the contents of the boot in the hall to be dealt with later and joined Geneva in the living room. She leant over William, who was now slowly waking up, and removed his little jacket, tossing it onto a nearby chair. Jamie glanced at the label… Ralph Lauren. He smiled -- the contrast couldn’t be greater with William’s wardrobe upstairs, comprised mainly of supermarket or chain store items and hand-me-downs from his wee cousin.

Geneva lifted William and cradled him close to her. Over her shoulder, William looked around surveying the now familiar environment before his eyes latched onto his father. Jamie watched as she closed her eyes and inhaled the intoxicating aroma of their baby. He made to take William from her.

“You know,” Geneva said softly, reluctant to pass William to his father. “Tonight will be my first adult night out for ages… dinner with work colleagues. I’ve been looking forward to it so much. Having a grown up life. And now it’s here, I don’t want to leave William for a whole night. I’m going to miss him so much.”

“I ken it may be difficult fer ye tae start with, but ye have tae do it. It will get easier, trust me. And ye’re leaving him with his Da, no’ a stranger. Imagine how it’s been fer me, every time I have tae leave ma son.”

Geneva’s eyes snapped open. Jamie sighed and quickly carried on talking, anxious not to allow Geneva an opportunity to suggest any change to their legally agreed arrangements. “And ye ken William will be fine all night with us. He’s used to this house now, and his Da… and Claire.”

Gently, Jamie took the baby from Geneva.

“Right so, I’ve emailed his schedule to you.” Geneva returned to her usual brisk self. “Please ensure that you keep to it. And I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With one final kiss to William’s head, she hurriedly left.

************

Claire dropped her bag next to the pram, still carelessly stranded in the hall.

“Aye, weel, ye see yer man there. That’s Huw Jones… and that’s called a try… and now Laidlaw’s got tae kick that funny shaped ball in the middle of that ‘H’ shape. Jones plays fer Glasgow Warriors. I’ll take ye tae see them when ye’re a wee bit bigger…” Jamie’s voice came from the living room.

Claire stood in the doorway and surveyed the room. Two pairs of feet, one incredibly large, the other deliciously small, were both clad in white socks. Two bottoms, one with more padding than the other, were both covered in baggy blue shorts. Two heads nestled close together, both with the same distinctive red hair. Father and son lay side by side on their tummies, faces pointing up to the rugby on the television.

Jamie stopped his narration and rolled slightly to look at Claire. “Hello, Sassenach. We’re jes’ having a wee bit of tummy time. But William here is no’ too fond of being on his tummy, so we decided tae take our minds off it and watch how Scotland beat England last year.”

William’s entertainment now having been spoiled, his head flopped forward onto the playmat and he started to grizzle. Jamie quickly scooped him up and popped him in his seat.

Claire smiled. “You do know, don’t you, that William may end up supporting England?”

Jamie winced. “Now why would he be doing that?”

“Oh, maybe because one half of his family is English?”

“Nae, Sassenach, I willna let that happen. That's why I’m starting him on the rugby now. Wee bit of indoctrination.”

He glanced at the clock. “Och, time for his bottle. Got tae keep tae the schedule.”

Claire followed Jamie into the kitchen.

“I’ll help you make it up.”

“No need,” Jamie responded as he switched the bottle warmer on and dived into the fridge for the white wine. “Bottle for you too, madam?”

Claire shook her head. “School night.”

Jamie replaced the white wine. “Geneva made up the bottles, it’s breast milk.”

“Wow,” Claire was genuinely surprised. “I didn’t think Geneva would still be breastfeeding. I assumed it might interfere with her lifestyle too much.”

“Aye, I ken… me too. But fer all her many… many faults, she does love William.”

“A lucky little boy… so much love.”

Jamie picked up the warmed bottle, as a loud rattling sound floated into the kitchen.

“Sounds like he’s giving that baby gym a fair whacking. Tell me, Sassenach, is it too soon tae buy him a Scotland rugby shirt?”

**************

Claire pottered around the kitchen, loading the dishwasher, wiping down the surfaces with one ear on the baby monitor.

From upstairs, she could hear the splashing of water and the continuous stream of chatter from Jamie as he bathed William. She took silence from the baby as an encouraging sign. While part of her longed to go upstairs and join in, she felt it was important for Jamie to do this for the first time on his own, both to build the bond between father and son and also to increase his confidence as a new parent. Geneva had, until recently, given him no opportunities to do so.

And besides, other than in her professional capacity as a doctor, her own experience with babies and children was woefully minimal. She’d never bathed a baby or put one to bed. As Claire had told Geillis, she knew the theory, just never had to put it into practice. Well, she told herself, that will all be changing. She wanted time to bond with William too, she just had to let Jamie take the lead.

“Sassenach,” Jamie’s voice crackled through the baby monitor. “Come and join us.”

Claire made her way up to the bathroom to find Jamie sitting on the floor, holding William, tightly wrapped in a hooded towel. Jamie’s shirt was draped over the sink, soaking wet. His curls were similarly damp.

“I didna realise what a tricky business this bathing can be. Babies are slippery wee things, ye ken.”

Jamie spotted the concerned look on Claire’s face and hurriedly continued. “Nae worries, Sassenach, he’s fine. Nothing happened tae him. A wriggling wet bairn is a tough thing tae handle is all.”

Claire stepped closer to the pair.

“I wouldna kneel there if I was ye. Mentioning no names but somebody may or may no’ have done a bit of a wee when their nappy came off and I havena had chance tae clean it up yet.”

Claire deftly skirted the patch and knelt on the other side of Jamie. He passed William to her. “There ye are, Sassenach. He’s all wrapped up like a tasty wee sausage roll.”

William looked up at Claire, smiled and very loudly farted.

***********

Jamie looked at the clock by the side of the bed. He wasn’t sure what had woken him. He rolled over to Claire’s side of the bed -- now cold and empty. He got out of bed, stumbling in the darkness, and headed onto the landing.

A light was on in the adjacent bedroom, and he could hear low murmur of a voice. He pushed the door open and stood watching in the doorway.

“... from the top of the tree, there came a loud buzzing noise. Winnie the Pooh sat down at the foot of the tree, put his head between his paws, and began to think…”

Claire sat on the rocking chair, the light from the reading lamp highlighting the auburn and golden tones in her hair, the motion of the chair causing her curls to sway gently. In her arms, she held William, his eyes fixed on her face, thumb firmly in his mouth.

Jamie felt like his heart was going to burst -- his love and his son together. An image, a memory, he knew he would treasure forever.

Claire looked up at him and smiled softly. “Hey. Sorry, did we wake you?”

Jamie shook his head. “Nah. I didna hear him greetin’?”

“Oh, no, he wasn’t crying. I just wanted to check on him. This is all new for William, you know, first night at his Da’s and he was wide awake. So I thought a cuddle and a bit of a story might settle him down… come join us. We need someone for the voices.”

Jamie walked over to the rocking chair. He kissed the top of Claire’s head, then knelt down beside them, kissing William’s forehead. Claire moved the book closer to him.

Jamie began to read: “...then he thought another long time, and said: ‘And the only reason for being a bee that I know of is making honey.” And then he got up and said: “And the only reason for making honey is so as I can eat it’...”

William’s eyes started to close. Claire could see him fighting to keep them open, but the effort was too great. She shushed Jamie and put William down in his cot.

Leaving only the soft fairy lights on, they returned to their bedroom, gratefully snuggling down under the duvet.

“Quite an evening.” Claire spoke softly.

“Aye, and plenty more like it tae come. It’s a commitment right enough. Ye aren’t sorry ye signed up fer it, are ye? I mean, now we’ve experienced a bit more of it?”

Claire could feel Jamie tense involuntarily, waiting for her answer. She turned to face him in the dark.

“Never.” She responded and felt him relax into her.

[fulldiarywords]

Worth the Thought

The dull, thudding dread in your stomach had started around half past three when your phone started buzzing - the monthly reminder from the cycle tracker app that your period should be starting any minute. 

It hadn’t. Yet. 

You swiped ignore on the notification and flipped the phone over on your desk, hoping that if you just concentrated on the spreadsheet in front of you, you’d be able to ignore the creeping anxiety about the fact that Auntie Flo usually arrived on time like clockwork.  Maybe it was just a day or two late.

But you couldn’t shake off the thought that maybe it wasn’t. And the computer screen was getting blurrier and blurrier by the minute and the sound of the clock on the wall opposite your chair was ticking louder and louder.  Your fingers felt like lead everytime you added a new sum to the column you were currently adding up. 

After about thirty minutes of a half hearted attempt of continuing the work day, you clicked the log out button on the desktop screen. 

“Hey, Claire?”, you asked, peering over the divider at your coworker. 

“Yeah??” She didn’t look up from her computer screen.

“I’m not feeling too well all the sudden. Gonna head out a bit early, I think.”

She stopped typing and met your gaze - “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.  Go ahead, doll. We’ll sort out these figures tomorrow.” 

You nodded your head in appreciation and gathered your things, cramming them into the oversized striped tote that George had given you a few Christmases ago. He reasoned that you loved stripes so it made sense that you should have something striped to carry around everyday - he seemed to always be insufferably cute in his logic of gift giving.  

The phone was the last thing you picked up - a new message notification from George seemed to be screaming out from the bright screen. 

So glad that you’ll be there tonight. 

“Shit.” You muttered it under your breath and hitched the bag on your shoulder. 

Geebs, I’m not feeling too well. Not sure if I can make it. 

It had taken him a while to gather the courage to ask you to accompany him to what he called “work functions”. You weren’t promoting anything, he had explained, so you didn’t need to be subjected to the endless barrage of flashbulbs and oddly boring questions from journalists. He would understand if you wanted to stay at home and keep everything private. But you didn’t mind. George always came to every office party or dinner, even the annual Christmas do that Claire tended to get too drunk at and cry to him about her apparently never ending singledom. Besides, you loved the way George swelled up with pride when he spoke about his experience working on a film - how much he loved creating something new. 

What’s up? 

Nothing serious. Just don’t feel too hot. Heading home early rn. 

I can ring Donna and see if I can get out of this thing. 

Don’t. Isn’t it a BAFTA party? 

Yea. That doesn’t matter tho. Been to enough at this point, tbh. 

Don’t be silly. I’m fine. Prob ate something bit odd at lunch. 

You sure, Piglet? 

You couldn’t help but give a small smile at his nickname for you. George claimed that when you got anxious, your voice got higher and you couldn’t stop saying “oh no” just like the Winnie the Pooh character. Also, there was his claim that when you laughed hard enough, you’d make soft snorting sounds instead of laughs. It was one of the cutest things about you, according to George. At least it was better than the nickname he ended up with. Allegedly - according to what you could remember - it started after one night where you had drank too much white wine for your own good and couldn’t find George inside the bar. You’d found him outside in the smoking section, chatting with a burly lighting grip in a Man City beanie.  Desperate to leave, you pawed at George’s shoulder, whining - “Geeeebs, I wanna gooo home now. Geeebs, lessssgo. Hooome. Goo.”   Man City had smirked and nodded at your swaying frame. “Geebs, looks like your girl needs a bit of help.” 

Yeah. I’m honestly just tired and wanna rest. Go! Have fun! Tell me all about it when you’re back! 

Ok. Ok. Ok. Party is at Groucho’s. Want me to pick up some ramen from that place in Soho that you like? 

Nah. Thank you tho :) 

What about Boots? Need me to grab anything?

Gonna stop omw home. 

Brilliant. Rest up, Pigs. Xx

Love you too, Geebs. X

By the time you’d heard the front door lock click open, the dread from earlier had turned into a tight panic that had threaded itself tightly into your chest.  If you just focussed on tidying up the flat, you wouldn’t have to think about what all the tests said. There weren’t thin pink lines in the suds of the washing up. 

“Hi, darling.” His voice sounded soft - as if he spoke any louder, he might cause your mysterious ailment to get worse. 

You didn’t turn around from the kitchen sink. Instead you squirted more Fairy liquid on an already saturated sponge. 

“Hi. How was the party?” 

“Just alright. Usual crowd. Usual questions. Managed to see Sam for a bit. He says hello, by the way. I convinced Donna to let me ditch early though.” 

You squinted, the mug in your hand slippery from the soap. “Really? You should have stayed!” 

George shrugged his coat off his shoulders, laying it over the back of the couch. He walked towards the kitchen, holding a brown paper bag. 

“I couldn’t possibly leave my poorly little piglet home alone any longer.” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him place the bag on the island counter. Tonkostu. That ramen place in Soho you liked.  He was making it even harder to tell him what you needed to say. 

“Besides, we’ve both been busy and you know, I just wanted to be home instead of trying to come up with some clever line for who knows what”, he continued, unbuttoning his suit jacket. 

There wasn’t any way the mug in your hand could get cleaner. You sighed, placing it on the drying rack and turned to face George. He smiled as he met your eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m still just fine. Knackered.” 

“You’re being awfully vague about what’s going on. Did something happen at work?” 

Biting the inside of your lip, you turned back to the sink. It would be easier to have this conversation without having to actually look at him. George in a suit was a particular weakness of yours and he’d been loaned a new double breasted one for the BAFTA party. Your mind was already all over the place. 

“Well…” 

“Well….” He replied as he pulled a water glass out of the cupboard next to you, nudging you a bit to let him get to the faucet to fill it up. You relented and turned off the water after he was done. 

“Maybe you should look over there.” You said, gesturing towards the brown bag. 

“You had a takeaway issue?” He laughed, leaning against the counter edge as he took a sip. 

You sighed and adjusted the messy bun on top of your head. “No. The other thing on the counter.” 

As he walked the short distance to see what was there, it felt like your heart was going to drop out of your chest. You hadn’t planned to have this conversation. At least not tonight.

“Wait. Are these what I think they are?” His brow had furrowed as he picked up the group of white plastic sticks. 

You didn’t answer.

“Pigs? Are...you...you know?” His voice seemed to be getting a little higher. A little faster. He set the test back down, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up.  

“Am I what?”

George turned to you, his blue eyes wide with surprise - “Pregnant!” 

The silence in the two seconds that it took you to answer was suffocating, weighing itself down on your shoulders.

“Apparently so”, you flatly responded. 

“Fucking hell.” 

“You can say that again.” 

The joy in his voice made the nervousness you felt sting more - “You’re gonna have a baby. We’re gonna have a baby!” 

He took two wide steps towards you, his arms reaching for your waist. You sidestepped away from his embrace. You’d wanted to hear George say this, watch him slowly realise what was happening as he read the test for so long. Longer than you could remember. But for some reason, this felt all wrong. This wasn’t supposed to happen just yet. There were so many things you wanted to do before this. Career advancements to be made, trips to be had, awards to be won, plans to dream up. 

“Hold on. Let’s talk about this for a minute.”

“What’s there to talk about this? This is..I think...probably...no.. the best thing that’s ever happened.” 

Exasperated, you grabbed the dish towel and twisted it around your hand. “I think we should really think about this. I mean. It’s a big step and we only just started thinking about getting married.” 

“We’ve been together for five years. We’re still going to get married but it looks like we might be changing up the timeline of life events, though. I thought you were on the pill...” 

“I was. I am. But I forgot my birth control that weekend last month

He had leaned back over to the island and picked up one of the pregnancy tests, examining it more closely. 

“Mmm..”

It would be easier if you didn’t say it straight to his face. You turned back towards the window over the sink, the red lights of the London skyline blinking silently back at you. 

“Maybe I don’t want to have this baby yet.”

There was a hitch in his voice - you didn’t need to see him to know that his face had fallen.

“What do you mean you don’t want to have this baby?”

“I’m not ready. At least I feel like I’m not ready.” The words felt like bombs dropping. 

“You’re not bloody ready? Are you mental? You’re going to be the most amazing mother to walk this earth.” He ran his hand through his hair, his face tightened in confusion. 

“I mean. I dunno. I just hadn’t really felt like I was at the point where I could take care of another life.” 

George moved closer to you, ignoring the sound of you turning the sink faucet. “You’re so ready.”

“Oh”, you responded dryly, “Did you have a conversation with my mind to get that information?”

“Ok. No. You’re right. I didn’t. But I know you. And I love you. And I know that you’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna be grand.” 

Picking up a sauce pot, you resumed the washing up. You were stuck in now, but maybe the Fairy liquid could smooth over how awful this talk was going to get, you thought. 

“You’re not getting it. I don’t want this. Not yet.”

George gingerly laid his hand on your shoulder. “Wait. What are you trying to say?” His voice faltered. 

“I don’t know! I don’t know what I want!” 

“I thought you wanted children...” 

“I do! Just..not right now.” Your throat felt like it was clamping up as your voice rose. “We haven’t planned for this shit at all.” 

“Well. Yeah. We'll sort it out though.” 

You slammed the saucepot down in the sink. “No. You’re not listening. How are we going to fit a literal child into our lives? We live in a tiny fucking one bedroom flat. You’re about to leave to go to Australia for 3 months. Do we even have enough money to have a kid?”

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and looked away. “I’ll drop the damn film. You know we’re financially sound.” 

You wished that you’d turned on more lights when you got home. The half lit kitchen wasn’t helping the dark mood at all. 

“Ok. Well maybe this isn’t a we situation then. There are things besides those.  I have a promotion at work I want. A career. I want to move up the ladder. I know as an actor you can get that. It’s like getting bloody famous or something.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Alright. Let’s not get petty.” 

The sink groaned a sharp metallic click as the water suddenly stopped. 

“This fucking stupid sink! George. You were supposed to fix it!” 

He nudged you out of the way and quickly shut the faucet off. 

“Pigs. Let’s not get into the sink right now.”

You threw the towel onto the counter, staring at the strawberry print. “Ok fine then. Maybe I don’t want to be like your mum and give everything up to raise this child.” 

George snapped his head towards you, his voice low and harsh. He only spoke like that when he was truly angry. 

“Don’t you dare bring my mother into this.”

“Why? You know she gave up her costumes for you and your sister.  And now she’s a fucking nursery teacher.” 

“She had a choice. You have a choice.” The sound of his hand hitting the counter reverberated around the two of you. 

“Well. Maybe my choice is that I’m not going to keep it.” 

“That’s not your choice!” 

Shocked and open mouthed, you grabbed one of the tests. The plastic felt like it could cut into your palm, you were gripping it so tightly. 

“Are you.. Are you fucking seriously fucking telling me I don’t have a choice?” You waved your closed fist in front of him, his eyes following the white stick. “I cannot believe...you arsehole.” 

He held his hands up in surrender. You didn’t stop. 

“You of all fucking people would tell me that what I want to do with my goddamn body isn’t my choice.” 

“That’s not what I meant….” 

“What did you mean then? That you had the final say in what happened to your child in my body, huh?” 

“No.” He grabbed your wrist to stop you from waving the test at him. 

“Let go of my fucking arm.”

“You need to calm down. That’s not what I meant” 

You jerked your arm free and threw the stick at his feet. “Don’t fucking tell me to calm down. I’m going upstairs. I swear to god, if you follow me.” 

Even forty five minutes in the bath felt like it wasn’t enough to make you feel better. You loved the clawfoot bathtub - it might have been your favourite thing in the cramped apartment you and George shared. 

The doorknob turned and you slid back under the water, scrunching your eyes and letting your nose stay slightly above waterline; hoping that if you stayed like that long enough, he would eventually just leave. 

“Hey” His voice sounded sad even muffled by the water. 

You didn’t respond. 

“I know that you can hear me. And I want to tell you that I’m sorry...I...shouldn’t have said that.” 

You opened one eye to his fuzzy form slouched above you.

“You’re absolutely right. It is your choice about what you want to do. And I need to support you. But I need you to talk to me about it first. It’s still going to have an impact on me. On us. But that doesn’t mean it will change anything about us. Or how I feel about you. How much I love you.” 

The water sloshed quietly as you slid yourself up the back of the tub. He didn’t notice that you were listening fully. 

“And you are going to be, whenever you want to be, the most amazing mother. You’re so kind and you love so deeply. You’re so fiercely protective that nothing will harm our child. I can’t wait to see that. I can’t wait..” 

“Geebs, it’s not an interview”, you said, laughing quietly at the way he tended to ramble when saying something he felt was important. 

He looked down at you, surprised. 

“There you are!” 

You smoothed your hair back, relishing the cool air of the tiled bathroom. 

“Thank you”, you responded quietly. 

“I needed to say it. What I said was wrong”, he sighed, perching himself on the edge of the tub, his back to you. 

“I’m so scared.”

“I’m scared too.” 

You looked up at him, slightly astounded that your take on everything the hard way George had responded. He gently drew a line back and forth on the water’s surface - “In fact. I’m bloody terrified.” 

“Why?”

He concentrated on the line, avoiding your gaze. “Well, what if something goes wrong? What if...you know..we...loseit. Or it hates us? Or it doesn’t learn anything we try and teach it? What if I’m not a good father? Or god forbid, it’s an Arsenal supporter?” 

You pulled yourself up further, bringing your knees to your chest and laughed. “Geebs, what football team our child supports is the least of your worries.” 

“Are you ready?”  Bathwater rippled outwards from his arm as he placed his large hand softly against your stomach. 

You paused and took his other hand in yours, water streaming into the crisp blue of his shirt - “Yes. I think I am. It took this bath and a good long cry. But...I dunno. Feels right. I’m still worried though.” 

“You’re going to be an amazing mum.” 

“I know,” you said, smiling cheekily. “You’ll be a better father though.” 

“Oh..c’mon now.” 

You blushed and pulled your mouth tightly into a smile - “You know, I actually decided I wanted to have your children after our sixth date.” 

He pursed his mouth, trying to remember the exact memory.

“Wait...are you talking about the time we went to that karaoke bar in Shoreditch with Anna and that lot and I sang that Heart song?” 

“Maybe..”

“Are you telling me that my show stopping rendition of Barracuda made you figure that out? Wow...it must have been really sexy then..”

“Oh fuck off!” You said, splashing his thigh. 

“Hey! Watch the trousers! This is Dior! I’ve got to give it back next week!” He feigned horror at the mark growing on his leg. 

The two of you sat silently for a few minutes, content with the immense agreement you had made. George lazily rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand as you leaned back against the embrace of the curved tub.

“Piglet?”

“Yes,” you murmured. 

“When did it happen? It couldn’t have been that long ago...do you think it was after Daisy’s housewarming when we were too pissed to make it to the bedroom and we fucked on the kitchen floor?” 

You didn’t respond, chuckling quietly instead. 

“Or...was it the other night. You know. When the new Attenborough series about Antarctica got a bit tedious..” 

“Geebs, it doesn’t really matter. It’s happening regardless.”

“Yes. Quite right. It probably would be pretty disturbing to learn that you were conceived to the soundtrack of a squawking flock of Emperor penguins. Anyways..Regardless...We should probably think about moving soon. I’ve actually been thinking about looking in Barnes for a while now. I want to raise our children there. In a proper house. It’s a bit more expensive than when I was a kid..but I think we can manage...I’ll speak with mum...see what she can find out..

“Geebs?” 

“Yes, Pigs?” 

“We’ve just decided to have the bloody kid. I’m too tired to figure out where we’re going to put it right now.” 

“Oh. Of course.” He jumped up, reaching for a towel off the rack. “Let’s go to bed. I’m exhausted too.” 

You gently lifted yourself out of the water and stepped into the open towel, wrapping it around yourself - “Go get ready. I’ll be there in a bit.” 

He came back five minutes later, changed out of his suit and into his favourite pair of pyjama bottoms; printed with sock monkeys and so threadbare, they needed to go in the bin but you couldn’t break the news to him. You dragged a comb through your wet hair as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. His bare chest was cool against your bath warmed skin. 

“Darling?”, he murmured, resting his chin on the crook of your neck. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“I’d almost forgotten how great your tits look when you’re in the bath.”  His eyes met yours in the mirror. 

You rolled your eyes. “Well get ready then. They’re only going to get bigger these next nine months.”

His face lit up - “This pregnancy is going to be the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

You quickly turned and tapped him on the stomach with your brush, laughing. 

“You pervert.”

“Ow! That hurt!” 

And you wish that you’d known then, in all that doubt and worry, that in nine months and a few weeks time, you’d open your eyes in a sterile room full of blinding light to see George holding a squirming bundle of pale pink in his long arms. So small in his hands. The tears wouldn’t stop and you won’t be sure if it’s the pain of the feeling of your hips broken, body split in two or the waves of joy that kept washing over you again and again, the elation almost drowning your heart. He would lean down, a small cry emerging from the bundle. “Look, Pigs. Look at her. I’m sorry they gave her to me first..hold her.” And the words wouldn’t be able to form as you moved your mouth into a yes. The bundle on your chest while George, his eyes tearful as he delicately placed his thumb on your daughter’s rosebud lips. She would blink, her eyes the same sea blue as her father’s as he brushed her cheek. And he would look to you, a vastness of love you’d never seen. “She’s so perfect...you’re perfect. You’re so bloody perfect.” His kisses against your crying eyes. On your lips. And all the blood, the doctor’s commands, the panic, the nausea, the doubt. All that doubt and worry would be worth it all. 

[msjr0119]

Love, Fate, Destiny

Part 12a - Kismet

Riley Brooks is a waitress in a ‘Dive bar” in New York. One Saturday night, her past comes back to haunt her as some unfamiliar punters enter her bar on a bachelor party- one of them being someone who she was once close to.

*CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY*

Tags- @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @yukinagato2012

There’s two parts... at the bottom of the page click continue reading as Tumblr said it was too long - so had to split it 😫

*****

Liam and the others arrived back at the hotel. Bastien decided to go to his room, he was feeling guilty enough so didn’t want to face Drake and Riley together.

“Drake? Where’s Riley?” Liam asked shocked. He had assumed that they would still be together making up for lost time.

“She... she saw the ring!”

“You fucking moron! We weren’t dragging you round NYC to try and get you to pull.”

“Fuck off Olivia! Maybe if none of you forced me to move on I wouldn’t have to wear a fake wedding ring to stop women trying to hit on me!”

“Did you show her the tattoo? Explain about the ring?” Liam asked, they had just found Riley again and lost her again. Regretting not getting her new number off of her, he didn’t know how they were going to find her again.

“She didn’t give me chance to.” Drake said in a pitiful tone of voice.

I’ve lost her again.

*******

Drake was frustrated with everyone forcing him out all the time -attempting to get him to move on from Riley. Stupidly he had agreed to go out with all the men later that night for a night away in Greece. Previous nights out, he had women drool over him- but he wasn’t interested. One woman said to him “there’s no ring on your finger, so I assume you’re single. Come back to my place.”

Driving into the capitol, he found a jewellery store. Choosing the cheapest ring he could find, he would wear it. If another woman attempted to convince him that he was single he would just rise his left hand up.

Later that day he met the men, and they travelled to Greece. In the first club, Liam tried to push him towards some attractive women- but they weren’t Riley. No one would compare to her. As the women came over, one touched Drake’s arm- he brushed her away and showed her the ring. Liam pulled him to the side.

“Since when did you get married Sir Walker?”

“Does it matter? I’m not moving on Liam! I could have been married to Riley by now. Had children. But no, I got that torn away from me. I don’t want to move on- so please don’t try and make me!”

The night went on, Drake became more and more intoxicated every second that went by. He was even dancing with Maxwell- something that wasn’t his forte.

“Drake... buddy.... why don’t we go for a tattoo.... have matching ones....” Maxwell slurred, not understanding what exactly he had suggested.

“Yes man! Let’s.... go....” Drake suggested as he tried to stable his balance. The two snuck out of the club laughing like naughty school boys.

Entering the tattoo shop, Maxwell flipped through the folders finding a few tattoos they could have. Drake frowned at the options; a flower, a cat with pussay patrol written under it, Winnie the Pooh, Duracell bunny. There was also one for couples, where one person would have ‘Dis’ tattooed on their knee and the other would have ‘ney’ on their - Disney.

“Or you could get a hippo tattoo like me.....we’d be twinnies.”

“Fuck no! I know what... I’m getting.”

The tattoo artist started working on Drake’s tattoo. Once done- he returned to Maxwell.

“That was quick.... did you chicken out bud?” Maxwell impersonated a chicken, making a fool out of himself.

“No! Look...”

“RB? As in Riley Brooks? On your wedding finger?”

“Yep!” The first genuine smile he had on his face for months- he kept picturing her face. Hoping that fate one day would bring them back together.

“Ah Drake... I hope you don’t regret that in the morning. I’m going for the ‘pussay patrol’ tattoo.”

Drake was drunk- knowing that this was a bad idea, he held his laughter in. He couldn’t wait to see Max’s reaction tomorrow- Maxwell may regret his choice of tattoo but Drake certainly wouldn’t.

*******

Riley was an emotional wreck, heading straight to Beth’s apartment she broke down in tears. After explaining what had happened- Beth was shellshocked.

“Tonight! We are going out.. you need it! I’ll pay.”

“Thanks Beth. I need a rebound quick.”

As Riley was getting ready, she had a new friend request - Maxwell. Not wanting to be rude, she decided to accept his message, and had a short conversation with him- keep it simple she thought.

“You ready to go?” Beth asked whilst topping up her lipstick- pouting in the mirror.

“I so am. Drake Walker who?” Riley smirked, whilst putting her heels on.

“That’s the spirit chick! Let’s go!” The two women necked their pre drinks down quickly, before shooting out of the door.

******

Maxwell arranged to meet everyone in the hotel bar. After stalking Riley’s Instagram he had figured out where she was going that night- he knew she was annoyed with Drake and that they were both as stubborn as each other, but he needed to get them back together.

“So glad you could meet me guys. Liam I hope you’ve delayed our flight back. Where’s her majesty?”

“Why? We need to get back to Cordonia as soon as possible! I need to have stern words with certain people. She refused to come- she said and I quote ‘I am not stepping foot in another shithole bar.’ So she’s staying here.”

“Her loss. Guess who’s friends with Riley on Instagram? Oh yes that would be me!”

“And your point is?” Liam questioned, not understanding why this was relevant.

“I know what she’s doing tonight. I spoke to her in a chat- then stalked all her pictures. She’s a professional model now... she’s fucking hot as fuck.”

Drake scowled at him, he felt jealousy burn through him. He knew Maxwell would never make a move on her- he wasn’t like Liam. But it still hurt that he would call his ‘girlfriend’ hot as fuck.

“Wow! She is hot!” Hana’s eyes widened.

“Is she turning you Hana?” Maxwell winked at her and nudged her. Seeing Drake becoming wound up- maybe this might encourage him to win her back.

“Quite possibly she could do haha.”

“Look Liam, Drake, Bastien....”

Bastien gulped, he knew that she was a model- he had stalked her Instagram page ever since finding it. At times he had to knock off the page- as he gained a slight erection. On one occasion he masturbated over one of her pictures- it was a heat of the moment thing. He would never be able to tell Drake the truth about this.

“Yes, she is gorgeous.” He muttered.

“I think she’s out of everyone’s league.” Liam responded after witnessing Drake scowling at everyone’s reactions.

Drake snatched the phone, scrolling through the pictures- he agreed with everyone; she was hot, she was gorgeous and she most certainly was out of his league. Ordering another whiskey, he knew he needed some dutch courage to explain what Riley misinterpreted if they saw her.

*****

“Hey babe, are you still at Kismet?”

Riley’s eyes widened, her heart sank. Regretting tagging herself in things on social media- she now had Maxwell stalking her. Quickly looking around to see if they were there- she couldn’t see any of them.

“Hey Max. No we are in bed, all worn out. Sorry.” Phew- hopefully they won’t come.

Strolling up to the bar, she kept looking over her shoulders. Hoping that they wouldn’t turn up. She had lost Drake due to her poor decision making- it was time to move on and she couldn’t if the bunch of misfits from fucked up Cordonia turned up. Waiting at the bar for Beth to return from the bathroom, she was contemplating what to order.

“Mark. Jesus. You scared the life out of me.”

“Looking good Ri. You’re photos don’t do it any justice.”

Riley noticed Beth on the dance floor- wishing that Beth would stop kissing her boyfriend and head over to rescue her from her ex.

“Erm. Thanks.” Fucking creep. Leave me alone.

“What are you having to drink?” Rolling her eyes, she believed if she accepted a drink he would leave her be and go and pester some other poor person.

“Surprise me.” Mark smirked as he ordered her a drink. When she wasn’t looking he poured an extra ingredient into the cocktail.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I’ve missed you you know.”

“Oh well the feeling isn’t mutual.”

“Come on Ri, we had a good thing going on.”

“It was in college. And you was a rebound. You know that!”

Riley felt uncomfortable in his presence, his hand tightening around her waist- she couldn’t remove it. He began to kiss her neck making her feel physically sick. Pushing him away she wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. Turning around to make her escape she bumped into someone familiar.

“Hey blossom!”

Shit

“Hey, Max. I’m so glad to see you.” Smiling at Max - he was her saviour, her new best friend.

“Who’s this douche?” Mark raised his eyebrows at the stranger.

“This Mark.... Is my boyfriend Maxwell.”

Riley pulled Maxwell closer to her, just please pretend for fuck sake- he’s a creep, follow my lead. Kissing Max on the lips- he was frozen at first, but eventually melted into it. Once they parted Maxwell slapped Riley on her arse, lowering her mouth to his ear, too far Beaumont but I’ll use it.

“Oh he does love spanking me. He’s so cute isn’t he Mark?” Riley said as she caressed Maxwell’s cheeks.

“Er yeah. See ya around Riley. Hopefully sooner rather than later.”

Watching Mark leave the area, she turned to her friend, hoping he wouldn’t berate her on her lie she previously told him.

“Thanks.”

“So you’re in bed are ya?” Folding his arms and raising his eyebrows- Riley knew he was angry. Maxwell was never angry, he was always so cheery and full of life.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t come. So I lied. I’m sorry. But honestly thank you for helping me.”

“Who is he?”

“My college boyfriend. My rebound for Drake.”

“Ohhh talking about Drake...”

“He’s here isn’t he?” Riley looked towards the floor, that was surrounded by the sticky residue of spilts drinks.

“Yeah, come and see him. He’s devastated.”

“Let me finish this drink. I need to use the bathroom too... I’ll be right back. I’ll find you all.”

Continue Reading

[paradisobound]

I Want It, I Got It, Chapter: 28

Summary: Phil Lester was a worker for the BBC in London. Working in the advertising department, he was content being alongside his friend and fellow coworker PJ during every shift. However, the BBC is temporarily being used as a film set for a new movie staring Hollywood ‘It’ star, Daniel Howell. Being stuck as an extra on the set, Phil finds it’s hard to ignore the famous star. And maybe, just maybe, Dan finds it hard to ignore Phil as well.

Word Count: 2.3k (this chapter)

Warnings: Occasional swearing and sexual content

Rating: Explicit

**MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3 | WATTPAD**

A/N: Here it is guys, the final chapter! I never thought we’d get to this point. I decided to post it today since I work tomorrow and wouldn’t be around for any of your messages or comments if you decided to talk to me about the ending. This is a shorter chapter, but that’s because I’m posting the epilogue in just two hours to complete the entire fic in one day. This fic has been life since January and it’s going to be so different to not have this fic to work on anymore. I’ve actually become so invested in this that I think I’m going to rework this and turn it into a novel to purchase. (I might also sell the phanfic version for no profits too), if you’re interested let me know! I’ll have a longer note on the chapter on Ao3 if you want to read that. If not, happy reading :) 

They’re all sat on Phil’s couch, bleary-eyed and yawning. PJ has been dozing off for the last hour and Phil has just let him go. Martyn came by a few hours before that, yelling at Phil about how stupid he was for ignoring calls and how worried he had their mum but Phil just explained to him the entire situation and Martyn warmed up. He eventually took a seat on the sofa with them and that was where he currently was. 

Phil was exhausted and fighting to stay awake. But he told Dan he would watch Jimmy Fallon tonight with him on it and it was about to start in another ten minutes. He could do this. He’s been seeing commercials all night for Dan’s appearance on Jimmy Fallon along with some other musicians that Phil didn’t bother to pay any attention to. 

His nerves were running thin and his heart was beating so fast that he thought he might actually pass out. He figures that it’s either from the lack of sleep he’s gotten tonight―or really over the last few days―and the anticipation of what Dan was going to do or say tonight. 

Suddenly, the show begins and Phil holds his breath as he watches along with Martyn, who is eating some stale popcorn they made earlier, and PJ who is sleeping on the couch. He waits for Jimmy to say what he needs to―Phil’s never actually made an effort to watch him before. 

They watch in silence as Jimmy does his opening monologue and then finishes it up and there is already a commercial break. Phil feels like he’s going mad. He wants to see Dan so badly and he wants to see what Dan is going to say. 

The commercials are average American ones and he finds himself feeling on edge as he wraps his fingers on his thigh from wanting to fast forward even though he can’t. Maybe this is why he never watches cable TV. 

“You’re going to put a hole through your pants.” Martyn says, pointing to his fingers. 

“I just wish the show didn’t have so many commercials.” Phil mumbles, not breaking eye-contact away from his television. 

“Maybe we should just record the rest of this and wait until tomorrow to watch it. It’s clear you’re going mental.” 

“We’ve made it this far.” Phil says, just as Jimmy comes back on and this time, he’s sitting at his table. “I’m not going to stop watching.” 

“I might fall asleep.” Martyn says with a hint of a smile on his lips. 

Phil turns his head briefly and smiles before turning back and watching whatever Jimmy has to say. 

He’s going on and on about President Trump, but not in an overtly political way. And then he’s talking about his son and Phil finds that to be really wholesome. But before long, Jimmy says that after the next break, Daniel Howell will be on to discuss his new movie. 

During this commercial break, Phil doesn’t sit still. He gets up and paces a bit around his flat before he goes into the kitchen and grabs a can of diet coke from his fridge and opens it, taking a long sip. The acidity burns his throat but he welcomes it. 

He makes his way back into his living room where now both Martyn and PJ are sleeping on the couch on different sides and he snickers as he pushes himself into the middle and watches. 

When Dan walks out, Phil feels all of the breath leave his body. Dan is wearing some nice black and white striped shirt and a pair of very nice black trousers. His hair is perfectly styled and any hint of the crying he did earlier on the phone was completely gone behind layers of make up. But he looked beautiful and Phil could actually cry seeing him. 

“Thank you for joining us!” Jimmy says to him. “We hear that you just finished your new film so can you tell us a bit about it?” 

Dan nods and flashes a blinding smile. “My pleasure. I just got done with filming my next film with Mimei Lake called This is Life and it’s about a young male, who I play, moving to New York City to find himself and he begins to work for a fashion magazine and he falls in love with the CEO who is played by Mimei Lake and I won’t spoil the rest.” 

Jimmy nods and laughs. “That sounds amazing so I’m glad you don’t want to spoil the film.” He looks down at his desk and Phil watches him before he looks back up. “We also heard that you have been recently casted as Christopher Robin in Disney’s new live adaption of the popular children series. My son loves the books.” 

Dan smiles wider. “Thank you! I’ve always been a fan of Winnie the Pooh since I was a kid and so this is honestly a blessing. I went into the audition thinking that I was in way over my head but I’m very excited.” 

“It’ll be amazing to see how they make a realistic Pooh without totally scaring off everyone in the audience.” 

The audience laughs and Dan does too and Phil even finds himself chuckling a bit. Martyn stirs beside him and opens his eyes and then looks at Phil. “He’s on?” 

Phil nods and then shushes him as Martyn readjusts himself on the couch and sits up straighter, his eyes a bit wider. 

Then Jimmy speaks again. 

“So, I’m sure everyone out there is thinking the same thing but your social media has been a bit crazy these last few months haven’t they?” 

Dan nods and Phil watches as a blush spreads over his cheeks. “Yeah, they’ve been a bit of a mess.” He laughs it off. 

“Is it something that―uh―you’d be willing to talk about?” Jimmy asks and Dan nods. 

“The paparazzi hasn’t exactly been kind to me or my boyfriend, Phil, these last few months.” Dan says and Phil’s mouth drops open. 

Martyn elbows him in the side and Phil turns to him. 

“Oh so you have a boyfriend?” Jimmy asks and Dan nods. 

“Yes, I’ve been with my boyfriend Phil since February.” Dan says. 

“Well, that’s great!” Jimmy says. “Despite all that everyone has been seeing on social media, I think it’s quite amazing that you’re able to sit here and talk about him so openly.” 

Dan nods again. “It’s taken a lot of time but I really love him and I don’t want to hide him anymore.” 

“That’s fantastic and I’m sure everyone here is happy to know that you’re feeling better too.” 

Dan smiles and blushes and Phil feels his eyes well up a bit. 

“After the break, we’ll still be here with Daniel to play the Best Friends Challenge.” 

The screen goes black for a moment and Phil feels the first tear come down his eye. 

“Dan just called you his boyfriend on live TV.” 

PJ’s voice cuts through the silence and Phil turns to see his friend sitting with his clothes rucked up and his glasses slightly askew. 

Phil just nods. “I can’t believe it.” 

Phil clicks off the telly even though he knows Dan isn’t done but he needs a moment to just sit in shock. Dan just told everyone that they were together. He told the world that Phil was his boyfriend. It was official. Everything felt cemented and he felt a bit overwhelmed. 

He tries to talk through his feelings with Martyn and PJ but it doesn’t really work when both of them are nearly asleep beside him. He eventually gives up and leaves them be just as they both curl up on opposite ends of the couch and are sleeping with their heads on the pillows of his couch. 

Phil walks to his bedroom with Spike in tow and gets into bed, his eyes feeling extremely heavy and weighted. He’s not sure he can fight sleep any longer. He’s just shutting his eyes when his phone begins to vibrate and he picks it up and answers it with a mumble. 

“Hey.” 

It’s Dan’s voice. 

Phil shoots up in bed and answers back. “Hey!” 

“Did you watch Jimmy Fallon?” Dan asks. 

“Of course I did.” Phil says. “I wouldn’t have missed it.” 

“So you saw what I did?” 

Phil nods, but then remembers Dan can’t see him. “Yeah, I did.” 

“You’re okay with me saying we’re boyfriends?” 

“I love it, Dan.” Phil says. “Nothing made me happier than hearing you say it.” 

“Good.” Dan says. “Because I meant everything I said. You’re my boyfriend and I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

“I have to get going but I’ll text you tomorrow?” 

Phil smiles and lays back down, shutting his eyes. “Okay.” 

“Goodnight, Phil.” 

Phil doesn’t answer because his eyes are already shut and his brain is already asleep, his phone laying limp in his hand and Dan laughing on the other side. 

***

There is a loud crash that wakes Phil up sometime later. His body feels sluggish and his arm feels stiff from where he had slept on it and he feels a bit shaken up if he’s being honest. 

What was that massive crash? 

He gets up from the bed and notices Spike isn’t around. Phil figures he must have gone out into the living room sometime in the night…or morning? What time did he even go to bed last night? He feels hungover but he knows he isn’t. 

He walks down the short hallway and comes into the living room to see Martyn and PJ both standing up in front of the couch and…

Dan is standing there too?! 

Phil feels all breath leave his body as he walks closer. “Sorry for waking you both us.” Dan says. “It’s past noon and I figured Phil would be the only one here.” 

“No, no, you’re fine!” Martyn stutters. “I need to get going anyway.” 

PJ nods in agreement and then they’re both barreling around Dan and grabbing their things as they walk out of Phil’s flat. Phil feels a bit embarrassed by that entire ordeal. Plus, he’s a bit embarrassed at the mess. There are empty glasses, diet coke cans, and stale food sitting everywhere. He needs to clean but he doesn’t feel like he can right now. 

“Hi.” Dan says, dropping his bag onto the floor as Spike immediately runs over to it to sniff it. 

“Hi.”

“Surprise?” 

Phil rushes over and gathers Dan in his arms as he picks him up and spins him around, Dan laughing and giggling like they’re young teenagers again. When he lets Dan down, Dan reaches up and presses his hands on Phil’s jaw as he moves forward and connect their lips. 

It’s a bit messy, their teeth clacking, but Phil doesn’t care. 

They eventually end up in bed together and it’s just as messy as the kissing but Phil just….doesn’t care anymore. He’ll never care as long as he has Dan again like this. Well, maybe not like this as he thrusts into him, but he definitely wants Dan in his life for the future. 

There is just something about Dan that struck him when they first met all of that time ago at the BBC. There was something about Dan that made Phil feel things for him that he never would have imagined otherwise. 

Dan’s smile, his beauty, and most importantly, himself. Everything about Dan was perfect and Phil wanted nothing more than to never let him go and leave him be. Maybe it’s too soon to think that he wants to spend the rest of his life with Dan, but he does. 

He wants to marry him and maybe adopt another dog for Spike to play with. He wants to move in with Dan and eventually have a little child running around that they have to chase. 

But he also wants right now. He wants to travel with Dan as he films and goes to shows. He wants to support Dan unconditionally and be with him through all of his inevitable ups and downs. 

Dan cuddles onto Phil’s chest and Phil kisses the top of his head, his hair tickling his nose. He inhales Dan’s scent, memorizing it as he takes a deep breath. 

“What are we going to do now?” Dan asks. 

“Well, what are you going to be doing now?” Phil asks, looking down at him. 

“I’m going to be beginning filming for Winnie the Pooh in a few weeks in England?” Dan says, a smile playing on his lips. “Care to join me?” 

“Of course.” Phil says and Dan leans up, pressing a kiss tight on his lips. “But I have to do something first.” 

Dan sits up and Phil turns on his side as he reaches for his phone. He looks through his contacts and clicks on the one that he needs and as soon as the person answers, he says the words he’s been wanting to say for a while. 

“Louise, I quit.” 

A year ago, if someone would have asked Phil where he was going to be, he’d have said still working at the BBC and barely making it. He’d say he’d have a dog and probably be so painfully single he’d consider extreme measures to try and find a partner. 

But the world works in mysterious ways and there is something that’ll never quite settle with Phil. And as he looks down at Dan who is laying on his back, naked as the day he was born, with his phone in his head, he’ll never stop thinking about it. 

He’ll never stop thinking about how the BBC brought Dan into his life over something as simple as forcing Phil to be an extra on the set. And now, nearly five months later, he’s convinced Dan is his soulmate. 

Phil never fully understood what he wanted in life, but he’s realizing pretty quickly that he’s gotten everything he could have wanted and then some. 

[skeletaldarling]

Single dad Remy

Summary: Remy’s a single dad and rounding up his four small sons is a difficult task. 

Pairing(s): Bit of early Remile but mostly just dad Remy

Word count: 1505 

Warnings: Small bit of crying, enough fluff to kill an army

Remy was sitting on the couch with Logan and Roman, his attempts of getting the five year-olds to apologize to each other were failing and Logan was only growing more stubborn.

“Lo, babe, we don’t push people, okay? Roman, hun, stop insulting him. Hey! Language, where did you even learn that word?” 

The children kept yelling at each other and Remy let out a sigh, “Babes, please, not today, I -” He was cut off by a soft crash sound. 

“Patton? Virgil?” The tired dad ran down the hall and into the toddler’s shared bedroom. 

Virgil was on his bed, chewing on his blankie while Patton whimpered from the ground, he must have slipped off. “Oh Pat, come here hun.” 

Remy scooped the two year-old up and cradled him in his arms, “Patty, you okay?” 

He set him back on the Winnie the Pooh covers and brushed away a tear, “You wanna watch a movie with Roro and Lolo?”

“Wowo! Wowo!” 

Remy chuckled at his son and balanced him on his hip, “Virge? Movie?” 

The quiet three year-old shook his head and kept bunching up his purple patchwork blankie. Remy nodded and cooed at Patton, making him giggle. As he entered the living room again he saw Logan was alone on the couch, playing with the tie he had stole from Remy well over a month ago. 

“Lo, where’s Roman?” Remy asked, setting Patton down with his brother. Logan simply shrugged and kept fiddling with the blue tie. Patton chewed on his foot, watching Logan curiously. 

Remy groaned, great. “Okay then, what movie do you two want to watch?”

Patton scrunched his nose in concentration, “Bwave!” 

“Brave? Alright, Lolo, you wanna watch Brave with Patty?” 

The five year-old nodded and Patton smiled brightly, snuggling into his brother’s side. Remy set the movie up as fast as he could so he could hunt down Roman. 

“Ro? Babe, come here, wanna watch Brave? Please.” Remy cursed and kept wandering through the house. 

He finally found Roman in his room, climbing the shelves to get to his pencil case. “Woah! Ro hun. Come here little prince.” 

He gently grabbed his son and took a moment to remember to breathe. “Roman, no. Stop climbing the shelves, okay? It’s not safe. Jeez hun, you’ll give me a heart-attack.” 

Roman pouted, “I want to colour.” 

“Okay, well. Lo and Pat are watching Brave, do you want to join them instead?”

Roman perked up, “Yes!” 

Remy kissed his head and took him to others where he immediately cuddled into Patton. Remy smiled at them for a moment before going to check on Virgil. 

“Virge, babe?” He called quietly as he approached his son’s room. 

He heard a sniff and walked in to see his son crying on the bed, when he saw Remy he hiccuped and buried his face in his blankie. “Honey? What happened?” 

He sat next to his sniffling son and scooped him into his lap, Virgil hiccuped again and leaned into his dad’s chest, “Daddy?” he asked, his small voice muffled by Remy’s shirt. 

“I got you baby. Oh hun, you want to talk about it?” He felt Vigil shake his head.

Remy knew he probably should’ve seen this coming. Virgil gets scared easily and being left alone makes him nervous. Remy kissed his soft hair and kept rubbing his arm soothingly. The cries eased and Remy picked him up. Virgil kept a tight hold on his blankie and let Remy carry him to the others. 

The four of them cuddled happily, Virgil found himself in between Logan and Patton who hugged him tightly, Roman leaned on his twin brother, Logan seemed unaffected, which was good, unlike other times when he threw tantrums because he didn’t want to be cuddled. Remy took a deep breath and let himself relax.

Then someone knocked on the door. Remy cursed, causing his sons to giggle. He raced over to answer the door. He had hardly opened it before he talking, “I’m so sorry, oh my god. Emile I forgot we had a date tonight, Roman and Logan were fighting and then Patton - Virge just - And I’m so sorry, you must be mad. Christ, I swear I remembered before but -” 

“Woah! Rem! Calm down, I get it.” Emile laughed. 

Remy groaned, Emile looked so good too, pastel sweater over a white shirt with pale blue skinny jeans. He shuffled his pink converse and ran a hand through his wavy purple hair. Remy glanced down at his own stained, sticky, jam covered clothes.

“It’s totally fine, we can do it another night.”

“No no, please, I love seeing you and we’ve rescheduled this date twice already. Come in.” Remy stepped aside and gestured Emile inside. 

Remy closed the door and pointed to the couch, “These are my munchkins, Roman, Logan, Virgil and Patton. Guys this is Emile.” 

There were a few small his and waves but they all turned their focus back to the movie. Emile smiled at them, “It’s nice to finally see them, you talk about them a lot.” 

Remy laughed nervously, “Mm, yeah well. They take up most of my life, I know it sucks that I’ve had cancel so often. Roman had a cold that he passed on to all three of them last week, and before that Toby had to cancel and I had no babysitter.” He sighed, “It’s hard, I’m so sorry about today though, oh god, hun please, give me ten minutes. I’ll get ready and we can go.”

Emile touched his arm, “No. Rem, we can just stay here and, I don’t know, order pizza or something. I just want to spend time with you, and honestly, your kids are adorable. I don’t mind, let’s just stay.”

Remy looked at him, “Seriously? Babe, that would be perfect. You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Yes! Come on Rem!”

“Okay okay, I just... Wow, thanks hun. This is perfect, I -Shit, I have to call Toby real quick, hold on.”

Emile laughed and watched Remy search for his phone, he finally found it and pressed a few things, he held it up to ear and gestured to the couch, “Just, ah, sit and watch Brave or something, I’ll come in a moment.” 

Emile did as he was told and sat with the kids on the couch. Patton beamed at him and he smiled back. The one with the small blanket, Virgil? Looked at him, smiling shyly. The twins didn’t acknowledge him at all, instead they watched the movie intensely, wearing matching expressions of interest. 

Eventually the movie was finished and the six of them were seated on the ground, eating pizza. Roman shoveled his piece into his mouth while Logan frowned at him, politely eating a slice at a regular pace. 

Patton kept asking Emile questions, chewing in between sentences, he blushed and smiled when Emile complimented his cat ear headband. Virgil was seated in Remy’s lap, slowly making his way through a small slice of cheese pizza. 

Emile looked at Remy, he gently chided Roman for eating too fast, ruffled Logan’s hair with one hand while pulling the napkin Patton was chewing on out of his mouth, “Eat your food hun, slow down with the questions too, kay?”

Virgil whimpered and dropped his half-eaten slice, Remy caught it quickly and handed it back to the toddler. “Virge, finish this slice and you can choose the next movie, mm’kay?” 

Emile smiled at him, he was a really great dad. And his kids were the cutest, Patton clambered into his lap when Lion king started, giggling when Emile tickled him. Roman noticed and jumped down from the couch to sit with them on the ground, Emile put arm around him and the five year-old leaned into his side. Virgil was still tucked up with his dad, they sat on the ground a few feet away. Logan chose to sit with his twin, they leaned against each other and Remy smiled at Emile. 

“They like you.” Remy said as he returned from putting the kids to bed. 

Emile laughed softly, “That’s good, I like them too. Patton’s adorable.”

“That’ll make him happy, he hoped you were going to come round again sometime.”

“Aww, he’s a sweetheart.” 

Remy dropped to the couch next to him, “You should totally come see them again, I don’t know, next week? I just... I really like you.”

“I really like you too, I’ve love to come round next week. Maybe tomorrow though, we could hang out, just us?”

“That sounds amazing.” Remy said, shifting to face Emile better. They’d only been on four dates but he really liked him. 

Emile leaned forward slowly and Remy met him half-way, the kiss was soft and deep. Emile’s eyes fluttered closed and his hand found it’s way to Remy’s cheek. Remy slipped his arms around his waist and pulled him closer, when they pulled away they were both smiling, “I’ll text you tomorrow.” Emile breathed.

He slipped out of Remy’s touch and blew him a kiss, “Bye Rem.”

“Bye hun.”

[aviationfiction]

XXXV

Autumn Dupont

“Autumn, how the hell do you come up with this shit? Dante, you’re going to be overweight about six months into your marriage, once you two finally tie the knot.” As my lazy frame further sunk down into the chair on the right side of the dining room table, I snickered as my brother stuck his fork into the nearly finished pile of gingerbread Belgian waffles that I placed in the middle of the table about a half an hour ago. With it, I fried up a couple of pieces of boneless chicken and scrambled some eggs for the hell of it. The setting felt like an odd double date between Isaac, Lauren, Dante, and myself as we all sat around the table enjoying the breakfast I made after both men whined endlessly about being hungry.

I had no intention to make breakfast, because I wanted to go out for it and Dante was more than willing to oblige that request if I dressed myself quickly enough, but instead of pressing his pregnant wife to cook, Isaac pestered me into the kitchen and in front of the stove. With it being Christmas Eve, the gingerbread aspect of it made sense and plus it’s a recipe that I actually wanted to test out for breakfast tomorrow. Now I’m going to have to come up with something else. It’s bad enough that I’ve been baking since this morning.

“What’s that in the oven that smells so good?”

“I tested out this new recipe that I found online. It’s an apple-pecan gingerbread cobbler.” My fiancé nearly choked on his orange juice as his eyes widened in excitement at the sweetness that his taste buds will experience tonight and tomorrow night. Christmas is always my baking extravaganza. While in Miami, I was quite ridiculous with it and would do it out of sheer boredom, only to end up having to throw away the majority of it because I couldn’t eat it all alone. Anything that wasn’t trashed went to Mario’s house. I even baked for Lebron and Savannah James a couple of times and in exchange, she’d always make an extra one of her famous red velvet cakes with cream cheese frosting, just for me. Now that? I absolutely indulged and I’m not ashamed of it whatsoever.

“I can finally use the excuse that I’m eating for two and no one will bother me about it.” Lauren endearingly ran her hand across her budding belly.

The baby has certainly become an everyday topic of discussion around here with my mother being in overdrive and overkill mode. We’ve already secured a venue for Lauren’s baby shower and given the magnitude of it, the guestlist is going to contain a couple of hundred attendees. I’m not sure if I’ve ever attended or been a part of planning a baby shower that has already leaped over the imaginary twenty-five-thousand-dollar budget Isaac playfully tossed out there when it was spoken about, but twenty-five thousand seems to be just the tip of the iceberg. 

Per the parents-to-be request, if they’re having a boy, Winnie The Pooh has to be incorporated into the theme and if it’s a girl, Tinkerbell. There’s also Heather’s celebrations that I’m automatically in charge of given that I’m the only one in her life who has the best friend and “sister” title. In all fairness, her mother and I agreed on a gender reveal being done right here in New Jersey and the actual baby shower being in Miami, where both she and Mario currently reside. With Mario being from Anchorage, Alaska and Heather being from up this way, choosing Miami is fair. That way, everyone has to travel and no one can pull the “inconvenience” card due to jealousy or indifference about the event being in either one of their native cities. Despite Heather’s protest, I’m paying for a portion of both events. It’s the least I can do as the God-mother. My gift to Isaac and Lauren will be the Balmoral Pram stroller that she’s been raving about ever since she confirmed her pregnancy and maybe an incredible bassinet of some sort.

“You certainly can. I’d like to think that’s one of the joys of pregnancy; eating and relaxing.”

“It’s going to have to be a joy because it seems to be all the grandmas and your brother wants me to be doing.” The way Isaac treats her as if not even the ground is not even worthy of her footprints, says more than enough. No offense, but her being barefoot and pregnant has been his goal since the two of them met. He’s the bread winner millions of times over, so what is the point in her having to do anything else? He never once asked her to sacrifice her career for him. It was a conversation and a choice that she ultimately made and she’s been more than satisfied ever since, from what I’ve observed. So that comment is no complaint. It’s leaning more in the lane of bragging.

“Well you know how this family is.” With her. In plenty of ways, Lauren has replaced my presence around here and it’s up to me to come to terms with it and whatever it entails.

“Hey. You still feel like driving me into the city so that I can pick up that last-minute gift? If you don’t feel like it, I can take myself. It’s no big deal.”

“Yeah, of course. Whenever you’re ready.” Dante instantly nodded his head as I pushed my seat away from the table and stood up.

“I just need to take that cobbler out of the oven and wash the dishes. I should be ready once I’m done with that.”

“I can do the dishes. You cooked. I’ll wash them.” He volunteered without a second thought about it and I shooed his effort away with the wave of my hand and the shaking of my head. Even with the fiancé status, he’s a guest in the house. I could never and would never allow him to wash a dish in here.

“No. It’s fine. Just finishing digesting those waffles. I have it under control.”

“I’ll do it. Go and handle your business. I’m sure the traffic in New York is a nightmare right now. The quicker you get there, the quicker you’ll be able to come back.” Isaac’s offer came as a surprise. Though I’m unsure if there’s a motive behind it, I’ll take it for the sake of exactly what he mentioned. Last minute shoppers are always a nightmare and I’d rather not have them trigger an intense headache that is sure to ruin this Christmas Eve as I try to maneuver through their desperation to finish off their Christmas lists. What I need is already gift wrapped and awaiting my pick up. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, go. Maybe you’ll run into mom and pop out there.”

“Dear God, I hope not. She’ll keep me in the store longer.”

Once I secured my cobbler in the perfect place for it to be able to cool down, I ran upstairs to grab my bag and met Dante at the car. He’d gone out ahead out me to warm it up and to make a phone call.

It didn’t take much of a debate to get him to come and spend the holidays with my family. Initially, I was going to keep things between just he and I simply because I decorated his apartment for specifically for that and most of all, because I didn’t want to necessarily snatch him out of his comfort zone, but he insisted that he was more than okay with joining in for our dorky Christmas traditions and my enthusiasm about the holiday. The man is currently donning an exact replica of the Christmas sweater the Grinch wore to the Whobiliation in the Jim Carry live action remake, just for me. I’m one hundred percent sure he probably internally cringed when I pulled it out of the box that it came in but he put it on without much protest. I hope he’s just as enthusiastic about the matching pajamas we’re going to be wearing tonight.

“We’re going to the one on Fifth Avenue?”

“Yeah, the Rockefeller Center location.”

Per his usual, he looked on as I pulled the seat belt around myself and secured it. He then double checked it. As his eyes transitioned to the driveway, I change the station on his radio to Light FM so that I could enjoy the endless sounds of my favorite holiday songs. I’ve been doing it every single time I’ve gotten into his car or anyone else’s since the middle of November and I have no plans to stop until New Years Eve.

“You know, I’ve been watching you in action ever since December hit. You’re so in love with the holiday season. I feel like I should be mentally preparing myself for when we have kids because it’s going to be all that you’re doing now, but times a thousand.”

“Sounds about right buddy. You got down on that knee and asked, so you’re stuck with me and all of my Christmas loving antics.” Am I loser for looking forward to my first holiday Christmas card with my own family? We’re going to shoot for a holiday Christmas card once we’re married whether we have children or not at that specific point. Do you know how many of them I’d gotten in the mail in Miami from the fellow WAGs on the team? I had to deal with a stack or two being piled up on the entryway table in our foyer all throughout December. And then there’s the one that my own family does that I avoid like a plague nowadays. Even since being back, I’ve yet to find time to make it to the little photo shoot they do in the living room right after Thanksgiving. I’m one hundred percent sure that I’m going to look like the oddball and will be the one all of my relatives have so much to say about when it lands in their mailboxes. I’m the “fuck up”; you know the one who did everything wrong. The more I stay under the radar, the less they have to say about me. I thought I’d been doing a good enough job with that until Richard St. James decided to make himself a presence between his son and I.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Is it because of Heather and Lauren?”

“No. I’m thrilled for them, but I’ve always wanted kids of my own. You know this.”

“I do know that. What I mean is, does it make you want to speed up the process?”

“No, not really. As I said to you before, whatever happens will happen. I used to have a time frame on it, but I don’t anymore.”

“I have a time frame on it. I have nothing to show for myself individually. I’d at least like to get somewhere in life so that my kid will be able to be proud of me.”

“And where do you believe you are in life right now?”

“A college dropout.”

“Yeah, and so is Mark Zukerberg, Michael Dell, Steve Jobs was one, Bill Gates, Evan Williams, Jan Koum, and a bunch of others. What’s your point? I will never understand why you constantly berate and belittle yourself all in a way to unfairly compare yourself to others.” I don’t expect him to understand it, because he’s not in my position nor will he ever be. It’s something that I have to live with until I improve on it.

“Did you just compare me to the men who created Facebook, Microsoft, and Apple?”

“I compared you to college dropouts.” His lips pursed together as his brow creased in a growing frustration.

“The comparison was to make the point that the college dropout label has no standing when you go and do something beyond that. Why is it that everyone else notices the talents that you have more than you do? If going back to college is what you want to do, then baby, I’m all for it. I’ve told you that before and will tell you it again. Go back and get that degree. I know that it means something to you and you’d like to be able to at least have one higher education diploma hanging up on your parents’ mantle alongside Shane and Isaac’s. If you don’t want to go back, don’t. I’m just as fine with that. If you want to go full throttle into beginning a business for your designs, I am all for it. Whatever you need for it, I’m going to give it to you with no second thoughts or hesitation about it. Your event planning expertise is unmatched. You want to open a business for that? I’m supporting it. Whatever you want to do, I have your back, sides, and front. So, don’t sit there and make it seem like our children will look down on you because you didn’t graduate from college. If the way you take care of those who you love is any example of the kind of mother you’ll be, then consider our kids blessed.” His words never fail to silence me, especially when he’s expressing a point about what he feels about me.

In a lot of cases, we typically feel like those who love us have those moments of obligation to say something nice, whether they mean it or not, especially when we’re being our own toughest critics. Whether they truly do believe I’m a failure or not, my parents do it. My mother is always eager to have a moment to pet me and shower me with love that I sometimes do and don’t need. My father is less likely to do it than she is and it’s because I try my best not to have too many emotional moments within his presence more so for his sake than my own.

I don’t think he knows what to say to me at this point in my life other than for me to get it together and he doesn’t even say that because I’m sure he believes I’m too sensitive to hear it from him. I’ve disappointed him, though he doesn’t use that exact word or anything synonymous with it. He had to go from bragging to the entire family about my future as a doctor to maneuvering around with his head tucked between his thighs because I’d become a public spectacle. So, I usually control the direction of our conversation with one another and I keep them extremely general or focused on whatever is going on in his life. It’s for the better.

“Stacey is planning our engagement party. I just thought you should know.”

“Sounds like something Stacey would do. I’m not surprised.” At all. I’m one hundred percent sure she began planning that party in her mind as soon as he slipped the ring on my finger; maybe even before that.

“I think she wants to reach out to your mother about it. It would probably be best to include her in the planning of something like that, right?”

“I don’t know, I guess so. She kind of has herself tied up in everything going on with Isaac and Lauren’s baby, so if Stacey can bare the bulk of the work, it would probably be for the better.” The faint dust of snow trickling onto the windows immediately caused my eyes to lighten up. We’re not going to have a white Christmas at all. Because I was never anticipating it, I’m more than okay with the flurries that we’re going to get throughout today and the middle of the night. They’re further enhancing the spirit.

“Okay.”

“I already know you shut down at least twenty of her ideas about it.”

“Not twenty but maybe five or six. She’s trying to invite the whole entire New York City. You know that’s not my vibe.”

“You have a nightclub.”

“And that’s exactly why it’s not my vibe. I’d rather not have people putting on the most expensive outfit in their closet and showing up to a personal event of mine for the sake of clout chasing. If I can’t look at you and immediately recognize who you are, then no thank you. Speaking of the club, are you coming to the New Year’s Eve party?”

“I’ll be there. Will you have time for me is the real question here.”

“I will. We’re going to be double staffed that night, so that’s less of a work load on Fred, Mike, and myself. So, I’ll be by your side the majority of the time. I promise.”

“Alright, because I don’t want to have to find some random to kiss when the ball drops.”

“I’d rather not start the New Year off in handcuffs, Autumn.”

“You’re one to talk. I was five seconds away from snatching that bartender from behind the bar at the holiday party.” The smirk on his face nearly made me punch him in the chest. Though I doubt he fed into her antics, I’m sure it stroked his ego and allowed him to know that he still has that aura that can instantly make a woman drop her panties for him without him ever having to try or say anything.

“You saw that?”

“How could I not? Her eyes were following you around the room all damn night. And then, she looked like she wanted to kill me when we were speaking.”

“You had nothing to worry about. Heather was going to kill her for you. I had to hurry up and hug her so that I could get her to turn around. If looks could kill, that chick would have been instantly dead.”

“That’s my sister!” My shoulders rose in pride. I would have done the same exact thing for her.

“I already know that you know you have nothing to worry about, so I don’t think I have to reassure you, but I will anyway. I only want you.”

“Even when I’m a horny old lady and my boobs are sagging down to my stomach?”

“We’re just going to get you a good bra and I’ll pop a Viagra or two and handle that.” As I ran my hand over his arm, we shared mutual laughter over what our lives may be like when we’re somewhere in our late sixties or seventies. I’m looking forward to it. When you’re living your life and you have someone alongside you who only enhances the greatness of that, all you want to do is live out the experiences so that you’ll have something to be nostalgic about when speaking to the younger generation. God willing, our love story will be one worthy of a novel or one that will pass down through generations of our grandchildren.

The best part in myself singing and snapping my fingers along to all of my favorite Christmas hits is Dante in the driver’s seat butchering them after I invited him to join me in my glee. While snapping his fingers, he threw in words and lines that were never apart of the songs or would ever make sense. It was so comedic that I had to whip out my phone and record him. If we had the windows down, we certainly would have attracted the attention of New Yorkers walking along the sidewalks in the busy city. I had to accuse my man of being biased because while he butchered all of the songs sung by white artists, he certainly knew the Motown classics much better than he did those. I’m so mad that I didn’t bring our Santa hats out of the house with us. They would have been perfect for the video.

“This is a gift for your mother?” Dante glanced around at the display cases while I waited for my pick up order. I’d gotten her eighteen karat rose gold bangle with round rubies within it from their Atlas collection. It cost me just a little over six thousand dollars. The bracelet I originally wanted to get for her was a nearly ten karat gold cuff with three large rubies in it, but the thirty five thousand dollar price tag was a bit too hefty. Hopefully I’ll be able to grab it for her next Christmas. It’s so regal and attention commanding, much like herself.

“Yeah. It’s a bangle. She loves bracelets.”

“Good, because I got her one too.”

“Did you? That’s perfect. I know she’s going to love it and I don’t even know what it looks like.”

My curiosity had gotten the best of me, just as his did, and I too began to look around the store at the breathtaking pieces that most would only see in a fantasy. As the thought of Dante purchasing my mom a bracelet for Christmas, I couldn’t help but to think about his own and if he’d gotten her anything. I can’t even begin to imagine how it feels to have the one son born from her womb not be interested in seeing her on the most family-oriented holiday of the year.

“Wow.” I was a bit breathless as I nearly pressed my face against the glass to get a good look at the bracelet that was reminiscent of a flower bush with its light green tourmaline gems representing accenting leaves and floral patterns filled with diamonds. I’ve never seen anything like it.

“You like that?” I didn’t even know he was behind me.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Want it?” I knew it was coming. I fucking knew it.

“No.” As quickly as he asked is as quickly as I shut him down. I don’t even want to know how much it costs.

“Why? It’s Christmas.”

“So, what.”

“And you call me the fun police.” As I waved him off, he rolled his eyes.

I thought shutting him down would keep him off of my trails as I continued to look around the store, but he still continued to follow along and then linger around areas that I’d walk away from. Even after I picked up the gift, I still continued to walk around the store for a couple of minutes not only taking in the beauty of the jewelry but also the Christmas decorations donning every area of the place. I’ll miss all of the decorations when they’re gone next week.

“Are you hungry again? You want to grab a bite to eat before we go back to the house?”

“I have something else in mind. We’re in good timing too.”

“Good timing for what?”

“You’ll see.”

“See what?”

“Oh, don’t you love this song?”

The Temptations “Let It Snow” easily drowned me out during our short-lived drive. He literally only drove a few blocks and parked the car. I threw out every urge to be stubborn and continue questioning him as we walked down the sidewalk hand in hand, and I immediately wanted to jump into the air and click my heels as Radio City Music Hall came into view. I nagged about forgetting to get tickets to this show two weeks ago. We saw it literally every year when we were kids but I haven’t been in quite some time now. I’ve yet to experience the new changes such as the 3D effects and the LED lighting.

“It took ya’ll long enough. Do ya’ll know how cold it is out here?” Mike readjusted his beanie hat.

What I thought was going to be a little afternoon date between Dante and I turned out to be a group outing that included Mike, Fredrick, Erica, Stacey, and surprisingly Heather and Mario. How does this man do it?

“Aw! My friends!” The sight of all of them standing there warmed my heart more than anything else could have done within that moment. Everyone was just as festive as Dante and I in their ugly Christmas sweaters and hats. Heather had even gone all out and gotten green and red stripped leg warmers.

“Friends? Friends don’t let their friends freeze.”

“I didn’t even know.” To further annoy him, I pulled him into a bear hug and jokingly rubbed my arms up and down his body to warm him up.

“Don’t be rubbing on him. His body heat can handle that.”

“Don’t be a hater your whole life Al B Sure face ass.”

“Where were ya’ll anyway? Dante kept texting us to make sure we’re all on time and look at the late ones.” Heather cut her eyes at him.

“At Tiffany. We were literally a few blocks away.”

“Doing rich people shit, on colored people time. Sounds like Dante.” Stacey drew me in for a hug and I immediately made a mental note to ask her about her perfume.

“I’m surprised you’re here. Where’s the baby?”

“At home with my husband and his family. His mother is getting on every fucking nerve I have, so this saved me. If I wasn’t doing this, I was going out regardless. I’ll be back in time to be there with them for the evening.”

“Can we go inside? It’s fucking cold.”

“Can we? Because if he says that one more time, I’m leaving his ass out here.” Fredrick warmed Erica’s arms by doing the same exact thing that I’d done to Mike.

“Yes. Come on. We’re going through the entrance on the side of the building.”

Our kids are going to be spoiled. I’m beyond sure of it now, because I felt like the biggest pre-teen ever as we attended the pre-show reception in the Roxy Suite. He didn’t want to go and eat because there was already a ready-made buffet and open bar for all of us. And the best part? We were able to mingle with Santa and the Rockettes, take pictures, and we shared a hot chocolate toast to the coming holiday. Though they all ripped me to shreds for shedding tears of joy, I couldn’t refrain from doing so even if I tried. This is the first holiday season without an emotional roller coaster happening within my mind. I’m not experiencing those unstable moments of my mood being up and suddenly viciously crashing without warning. Though I miss Shane with every fiber of my being, I’m smiling and living. There’s a fulfillment there that I haven’t touched the surface of since everything spiraled in my world. I feel good; great even. My tears are joyous this year. I’m thankful.

“You know, this is the happiest he’s ever been for this holiday. Look at how much Scrooge is laughing.” Stacey quickly pointed towards all four men who were huddled together and laughing at God knows what as we awaited the show’s start.”

“It’s crazy, because Fredric said the same thing.” Erica winked to give me all of the credit for that.

“I know. I thought I was in overkill mode and making him uncomfortable, but he’s been such a good sport.”

“Anything for Autumn.” Heather mocked his tone of voice as best as she could.

“It’s not even like that.”

“Yes, it is.” Unison. It felt like I was standing before a choir of three as that response came out of their mouths. Okay, I’m a bit spoiled, but so what? He’s spoiled too.

“It’s alright though. Though he didn’t agree with me, he needed someone to take care of him in all of the ways that people weren’t; in ways that I couldn’t. I do my best in the big sister role, but he needed more and you came. I believe in fate. You’re damn sure that.”

“Fate, huh?” That’s an interesting way to put it.

“Hell yeah. He’s yours too. Someone had to come through and show you that Andreas wasn’t about shit when you met him and isn’t about shit now. Now look.” Indeed. I don’t regret anything and I’m not into labeling people an upgrade, but I learned when you open yourself up to change, some beautiful things can happen within your life in the best ways.

“Well damn. Just slander the man Heather.”

“Slander? I still contemplate slashing his tires at every game I attend.”

There was a point in time when I too, wanted revenge, but I’d like to think I’m having it already. Most of all, I’m having it healthily.

Our seven o’clock arrival time back at the house was the perfect timing. I’d made it back just in time before my mother began to call my phone complaining. While changing into our pajamas for the evening, I was able to wrap up her bracelet and slip it under the tree without her ever detecting it and our traditional board game festivities began. While playing, we experimented with different flavors of hot chocolate. I came up with the idea days ago and scrambled around Jersey looking for the ingredients. I think the milk chocolate peanut butter, gingerbread, coconut tres leche, and Oreo flavors were hits. I enjoyed the eggnog version more than most of them did and there was something about vegan chai flavor that slightly impressed me. I’ll be trying that one again.

“Autumn, we’re not watching the Polar Express. Grow up. We’re watching A Christmas story.” Isaac and I argue every year during movie time. We’d already been arguing because he cheated to win Monopoly but I don’t care about that. Movie time, is my time.

“I don’t want to watch that. We can watch that tomorrow after we’ve eaten and we’re all falling asleep from the itis. The Polar Express is a better watch. It has music.”

“Let her watch it.” He’d say anything to get either one of us to quiet down. My dad hates when we argue.

“No. I want to watch a Christmas story.”

“Why don’t we just watch both tonight? That should work right?” Dante’s solution sounded like bullshit to me because we’re watching Home Alone and Home Alone 2 right after.

“Nope.”

“Baby. You have to be fair.”

“I am being fair. I said that we can watch it tomorrow.” 

“Autumn. Be fair.” I thought Lauren would say something, but for whatever reason, this particular argument, she found to be hilarious. She hasn’t stopped giggling yet. It’s not even funny.

“Ma, I am being fair.”

“Whatever. She can pick the movies like she does every year. The bratty youngest child tradition continues.”

“You’re just mad because you’re old and boring.” Dante threw an arm around my shoulder as we sat on the floor and leaned against the bottom of the couch. Though he protested against wearing a onesie, there he is, sitting there in one that is identical to mine. My promise to be completely naked under mine is what convinced him to put it on, but who cares? It worked.

“And don’t forget, we’re all opening one gift before we go to bed. It’s tradition.”

“I didn’t get Autumn anything.”

“I got you something. I bought you a personality big brother.”

As I continued to search for the movie, a pillow smacked into the back of my head and laughter filled the room soon after. Once I selected The Polar Express on the screen, I relaxed against Dante in satisfaction that I’d gotten my way with the movie selection. I’ll be the same way until their child is old enough to do it. The youngest always gets to choose. That’s my tradition, whether they know it or not.

“How did you like your gift?” Unlike everyone else, Dante’s hands randomly selected one of his better gifts under the tree. I opened up a spa gift certificate from Isaac. My mother opened up a pair of Christian Louboutin pumps gifted to her from my dad. Isaac opened up Tom Ford cologne from me and Lauren squealed in excitement when she opened up The Golden Girls complete series from me. I’m not sure why she’s so obsessed with that show.

As for Mr. St. James, he opened up a vintage 1964 Rolex watch with a yellow gold smooth bezel and a navy-blue strap that even had me slightly jealous. Engraved inside was: ‘We Love You Son’. Everything about it is timeless and sophisticated. Both my mother and father had done well with that one. She claimed they picked it out because that’s exactly the vibe they’d gotten from him upon meeting him. Their observations were on point if I must say so myself.

“I’m in love with it. Your mom is the sweetest.”

“She is.”

“It further lets me know how lucky I am, because you have a lot of her qualities.”

“Look at you trying to talk me out of my panties.”

“Based upon the agreement that we made earlier, they should already be off.”

“They are.” He didn’t hesitate to reach for the zipper of the onesie to confirm it. As the weight of his body met mine, I had to laugh because I’m beyond shocked that he’s even willing to go there while in my parents’ home.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“You have to promise me something.” His lips met mine for a tender kiss as he palmed the sides of my face with his hands.

“What’s that?”

“I know you like to surprise me sometimes and I always love and appreciate it, but promise me that you will never show up to A&M again. Don’t even stop by if you happen to be in the city and want to see during my work hours. I don’t want you coming there. Okay? Promise me.”

“Why?” And just like that, paranoia settled into the room like a thief in the night and snatched the joy away.

“There’s a lot that you don’t understand right now, baby.”

“Is there someone else?” His eyes narrowed.

“I only want you Autumn. Just you. There is not and will never be anyone else. You have to trust me with this. Please.”

Before the disappointment, I saw indifference within his eyes blended with a fear that I cannot understand. His needed promise was more of a plea and if I didn’t grant it to him, he wouldn’t be at peace. But why?

“I promise.”

“I only want you Autumn.”

As our lips met again, his hands began to draw away the wool material covering my frame. He rid me of my thoughts and it had to be his intention. I could only be lost in a world that only nested he and I; a world that is slowly being invaded no matter how hard we fight back.

The sweat on our skin meshed our frames together in a stickiness as I opened my eyes from my short-lived slumber. My eyes washed over his beautiful face as he peacefully slept. The moonlight illuminated it so perfectly. As I reached my arm up to caress his skin, diamonds dazzled and danced along my wrist like the most beautiful lighting show. A gasp instantly left my chest as I stared at the bracelet I fell in love with at Tiffany. It was the only piece of anything covering my skin besides my engagement ring. How could I ever protest this? I can only be humbled and gratified; loved and cherished.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” I kissed his supple lips.

“Merry Christmas.” Though it was mumbled and rasp filled, he opened his enchanting eyes and stared into mine.

Aside from the birth of Christ, this right here is truly the reason for the season.

Love.

[dancingwithdylan21]

The Truth Comes Out

Summary: The reader’s quiet night at home is interrupted when Dylan shows up looking bruised and bloody.

Pairing: Dylan x Reader

Word Count: 2,307

~

“Thank god I live alone.” You grumble to yourself, thankful no one’s around to witness your behavior. You’re lazily sitting on your kitchen counter in a ridiculous onesie stuffing your face.

You twist open an Oreo, put a scoop of chocolate ice cream then add whipped cream and chocolate syrup. While singing along to the radio, you smoosh the Oreo back together and shove it into your mouth.

You’re really baffled as to why you’re not married yet. Your boyfriend would be crazy to not lock down all of this sexiness. Realizing it’s almost time for a new episode of Scandal, you make your way towards the couch.

You freeze when you hear someone fumbling with the lock on your front door. This is just fucking perfect. A creep is breaking into your apartment and on top of it, you’re gonna die wearing a onesie.

You run back into the kitchen, grab a large knife then move towards the door. This is such a bad idea. Most people would call 911 right about now but not you. You decide to check it out for yourself.

The sound is now suspiciously gone, making you feel annoyed at this whole ordeal. You stupidly swing open the door and you’re shocked by what you see.

“Holy shit! What happened?!” Your best friend is barely standing looking bruised and bloody in front of you.

“Ice.” Dylan groans ignoring your question as he stumbles into your apartment.

“Ok. Go sit down.”

“What’s with the knife?”

“It sounded like someone was breaking in!” You huff stalking into the kitchen.

“I tried unlocking it with my key but no luck.” He mumbles falling on to your couch.

“Here.” You hand him an ice pack and place a cold glass of water in front of him.

“Can’t I have a beer?” He whines glaring at the glass of water.

“No.”

“Stupid.” He mutters under his breath.

“Damn, Dyl.” You sigh studying his split lip.

“I look sexy, huh.” He jokes before dragging his hand down his face.

“You must have a concussion.” You tease making him chuckle.

“Well?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Y/N.” He replies stubbornly.

“Dylan O’Brien! Don’t make me kick your ass. We both know I could win right now.” You scowl at the stubborn man.

“But Y/N…”

“Dylan.”

“I’ll explain but can I just rest first?” He begs giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

“How did you get here?”

“Tyler. He wanted to come up but I told him to go home.” You nod your head, wondering what the hell is going on.

“Ughhh.” Dylan moans as he tries to take off his jacket.

“You look like shit.” You frown staring at the fresh blood on his face, knuckles and clothes.

“You should’ve seen the other guy.” He boasts before coughing and clutching his stomach.

“Maybe we should get you to the hospital, buddy. Looks like you bruised some ribs. They could be broken.” You add wearily.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Y/N. I’m fine. Plus you’re a nurse so there’s no point.”

“I’m sure you need X-rays or something. Maybe I should call Tyler.” You mumble nervously, you’re not strong enough to lug the dumb ass there yourself.

“If I’m not better by tomorrow then I’ll go, ok?”

You’re about to push the issue but get distracted by your Justin Timberlake ringtone. You glance at your phone and see your boyfriend’s name flashing.

“It’s Mike. He’s home sick. I better get this.”

“No! Don’t answer it!” Dylan shouts sending him into a coughing fit.

“What the hell was that?” You demand feeling completely out of the loop.

“Do you trust me?” Your best friend asks already knowing the answer.

“Obviously. Why?” He’s about to reply but grumbles when your phone starts ringing again.

“Don’t pick it up, Y/N. Please.” Dylan pleads, the seriousness in his voice is freaking you out.

“Why can’t I talk to my fucking boyfriend?!” You exclaim jumping up off of the couch in a panic.

“Calm down, Winnie.” He chuckles eyeing your Winnie the Pooh onesie.

Shit. You forgot you had it on.

“You better spill, O’Brien!” You growl, pretending you’re not dressed as a Disney character.

“Mike’s the other guy.” Dylan reveals quietly refusing to make eye contact with you.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s the one I fought with.”

“What?! Why?”

“Because he’s a piece of shit. I already knew but it was confirmed tonight.” Dylan snarls tightening his fists.

“Mike’s at home with a bad chest cold.”

“No. He was at Marty’s Bar tonight. I don’t think you’ve ever been there. It’s a few towns over.”

“But…”

“Ask Tyler! He’s the one who broke up the fight. He actually clocked Mike really good in the process.” Dylan says with a crooked smile.

This can’t be happening. Is your boyfriend secretly a douchebag? If this came from anyone else, you’d tell them to fuck off. But it’s Dylan, he never lies to you. Ever. You trust him completely.

“What happened?” You sigh, feeling nauseous.

“He…well…I…” Dylan stumbles on.

“Anytime, O’Brien.”

“Mike was making out with a redhead. Some skank. No clue who she was but he was all over her.” He replies, concern etched all over his face.

“What the hell.” You whisper, tears now filling your eyes.

“Please don’t cry, Y/N. He’s not fucking worth it.“ Dylan stands up to comfort you but you’re not having it.

“Dyl! Don’t move, you’ll hurt yourself more. I’m fine.” You scold making him nod in response.

“Hold on.” You mutter, trying to catch your breath as you leave the room.

Your friend watches you try to hold it together and it breaks his heart. You of all people do not deserve this. Mike fooled everyone, making them think that he’s a great guy. But Dylan always knew he was a waste of life.

“Can you eat?” You ask walking back into the living room.

“Yeah. I think so.” Dylan shrugs looking confused.

“Take these.” You direct placing two pain pills in front of him.

“What’s this?”

“Tramadol. For the pain. I’m making you some toast. You should eat with those.”

“Y/N. Hold on. Come sit down so we can talk about this.” Dylan sighs knowing you’re in denial.

“There’s nothing to talk about. What do you want on your toast? Butter or jam?”

“Toast?” Dylan whines looking pathetic. “Don’t you have anything better?”

“You were just punched in the stomach, dude. More than once. Eat something bland first. Unless you want to take the chance of getting sick?” You raise an eyebrow. “I bet throwing up with bruised ribs is fucking fun.”

“Ok. Ok. I’ll eat the god damn toast. Butter, please.” He groans letting out a dramatic sigh.

“Good boy.” You pat his head, snickering at the annoyed look on his face.

“I thought having a hot nurse would be a lot different. This isn’t enjoyable at all.” Dylan glares making you roll your eyes.

“Sorry to disappoint, kiddo.” You chuckle pulling your hood on.

“And the outfit is all wrong. You’re supposed to be in a sexy nurse outfit, instead you look like friggin Winnie the Pooh.” He huffs gesturing to your onesie.

“Silly me. Next time I’ll be more prepared.” You respond sarcastically making him smile.

“That’s all I ask, Y/N. Put in some effort.”

“I would take the onesie off but I’m not wearing anything underneath.” You shrug innocently before strolling into the kitchen.

“Tease!” Dylan shouts from the other room making you giggle as you butter the toast.

Thankfully Dylan eats without complaining, he just sticks to a puss on his face. “How are you feeling?”

“A little better. The pills are kicking in.” He replies looking relieved.

“I’ll call Tyler soon.”

“For what?”

“To pick me up.”

“It’s almost 1am. Just stay here. If you won’t go to the hospital then at least let me take care of you.”

“Whatever you say, nurse L/N. You’re the boss.” Dylan wiggles his eyebrows.

“You need to change. You’re too bloody. I have some clothes you can put on.”

“Let me guess…Mike’s.” Dylan responds looking aggravated.

“Yup. Can you handle taking a shower? Now that the pain meds are working?”

“I can handle it.” He scoffs with a frown.

“Right.” You chuckle.

“Aren’t nurses supposed to help with that? You don’t want me to slip and fall do you?” Your best friend smirks with a gleam in his eye.

“You’re shameless.” You shake your head.

“I’ll help you…but you stay in your boxers.”

“Ok. But you need to be in your underwear too. Only fair.”

“Dyl…”

“Do you want me to feel self conscious?!” He answers dramatically.

“This coming from the guy who streaked at the pep rally in high school.” You can’t help but laugh at the memory.

“It was one of the best moments of your life, sweetheart.” Dylan cracks up, it quickly turns into a moan because of the pain.

“Take it easy, O’Brien. Don’t strain yourself.” You sigh grabbing his arm to help him stand up.

“Y/N! I can walk on my own. I’m not eighty.” He mumbles looking grumpy.

“Ok.” You cross your arms over your chest and watch him try to be a tough guy.

“Can I have real food now? I ate the toast.” He mutters moving slowly.

“After you get cleaned up, O’Brien. I have…” You get cut off by a loud pounding on your front door.

“Oh jeez.” You groan knowing it’s your boyfriend.

“Ignore him.”

“He has a key.” You snap annoyed with this whole night.

“Y/N?” Mike calls out, you hear his heavy work boots getting closer.

“Behave yourself.” You whisper to Dylan.

“Seriously?” He scoffs ignoring your glare.

“Y/N. Hey.” Mike walks into the room but stops short when he sees Dylan

“Leave Mike. We’re done.” You say coldly making him flinch.

“Baby, come on. Whatever this moron told you…it’s a lie.”

“Really. So you weren’t at a bar tonight? Making out with another girl?”

“Of course not! I was walking to the store to get cough medicine. This drunk jackass ran into me and he started throwing punches.”

“You son of a bitch.” Dylan snarls staring your boyfriend down.

“Look what he did to my face! My nose is broken. And he fucking killed my wrist. I won’t be surprised if it’s broken too. He’s a fucking animal.” Mike spits moving closer to Dylan.

“Jesus, Mike. You couldn’t have come up with a better lie than that? That doesn’t make sense. Dylan wouldn’t start a fight for no reason.” You huff, feeling anxious.

“Oh, he has a fucking reason. The bastard has been jealous of me since day one. He’s in love with you and hates that you’re with me instead of him.” Mike growls making both you and Dylan’s eyes widen.

“Oh Mike…” Dylan starts chuckling with a cocky as fuck smile.

“I guess this isn’t you then right?” He looks through his iPhone and then holds it out.

Your mouth drops when you see Mike and some slut making out. The bastard is wearing the same exact clothes he has on now.

“That could be anyone.” He lies looking guilty.

Dylan scrolls through, showing another picture where it’s crystal clear that it’s your boyfriend.

“Out.” You spit shoving Mike so hard he stumbles back.

“But baby…”

“I’m not your baby. Get the fuck out of my apartment and stay the fuck out of my life. I mean it!” You shout before slamming the door in his face.

You’re now frozen in place, a shit ton of emotions hitting you all at once. Without warning, tears start rolling down your face and you start sobbing loudly.

“Hey. Hey.” Your friend says softly wrapping his arms around you.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself.” You sniffle trying to stop him.

“I’m ok.” He chuckles kissing your forehead.

“I really didn’t want to show you those pictures. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to.” Dylan sighs wiping away a tear falling down your cheek.

“It’s ok.” You mutter, grabbing his hand leading him down the hall.

“What are you doing?”

“You still need to get cleaned up, dear. It’s late. We’re both tired. So let’s get it done so we can sleep, ok?”

Dylan reluctantly agrees, not wanting to make things any harder for you. He holds in a groan when you hand him Mike’s t-shirt and sweatpants. That bastard, he’s gonna regret hurting you. Dylan will make sure of it.

“Do I have to sleep on the couch?” He asks giving you a sad face.

“No.” You chuckle. “Get into bed. I’ll be right back.”

Dylan gives you a wink and slowly moves under the covers. It’s obvious he’s pretending the pain is gone. Silly fucker.

“Here. Take this.” You hand him another Tramadol and a bag of his favorite chips.

“You’re trying to drug me aren’t you. So you can seduce me.” Dylan raises an eyebrow.

“Damn it. You found out my plan.” You giggle climbing in next to him.

“I knew it.” He mumbles before throwing chips into his mouth.

Dylan knows you have on a brave face, but he can always see right through it. He hates this.

“Come here.” He says softly holding his arm out so you can crawl underneath.

“You don’t need me leaning on your ribs. Just get some sleep.” You answer quietly shutting the light off.

“Y/N L/N! Get over here now.” Dylan commands, you roll your eyes but decide to listen anyway.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m feeling better now.” He pulls you closer, ignoring the pain and the pressure he feels on his ribs.

“The asshole was right ya know.” Dylan breathes out, his heart now beating faster in your ear.

“Huh?”

“Mike…what he said…I am in love with you. Everything else was bullshit but that part is the truth.”

~

Masterlist

[samsexualdeancurious]

Forget-Me-Not

Square FIlled: Florist!Dean

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Rating: Mature

Summary: The flower shop is her pride and joy

Warnings: Character Death. This is not a happy fic

Word Count: 1,674

Written for @spnaubingo

Betaed by @manawhaat

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean murmurs, sitting on the edge of your hospital bed.

Y/N smiles up at him. “Hey, handsome. Come here often?”

He chuckles and leans in the kiss her forehead below where it’s covered by a knit cap that Sam’s wife, Jess, made for her. She made piles, so Y/N has a new one every day. It’s a little thing, but he knows how much she loves picking out which one she wants to wear every morning. It’s one of the few things left she has control over.

“Every day,” he says quietly.

Y/N takes his hand and presses his knuckles to her lips. “Mmm, must be a reason for that.”

“There is. She’s beautiful and smart and funny.”

“Sounds like a nice lady.”

Dean noses against the top of her head. “She’s amazing. I think you would like her.”

Her laugh is still one of the most beautiful things he’s ever heard.

The shop doesn’t feel as lively today. Dean leans against the counter, watching Kaia, Y/N’s apprentice and kind of adopted daughter, make the arrangements for an upcoming wedding order. She’s usually quiet, but today it’s extra slow, and she doesn’t waste a single breath talking if she doesn’t have to. She seems to be floating around the store in some sort of haze.

Dean understands.

“How’s Kaia?”

Y/N’s body is frail against Dean’s side, but he does his best to ignore that and answer the question.

“Good. She’s doing really well,” he tells her. “She asked me to remind you that she’s coming to visit tomorrow.”

“I miss her.”

“She misses you.”

“What about Skittles?”

“As dumb as ever.”

Y/N pouts and Dean chuckles.

“She fell off the front counter this morning,” he explains. “Landed on all fours, but still. That cat is the only cat I’ve ever met that legitimately falls off of things.”

“True,” she giggles, snuggling deeper against his side. “But you love her.”

“Nah.”

“Liar.”

“Mew.”

Dean sighs, looking down at the fluffy cat rubbing up against his calves. “I know,” he says, leaning down to scoop Skittles up. “I know.” He sets the cat on the counter, where she stretches lazily and rubs against his belly until he pets her. The rumble of her purr is familiar and it hurts.

“No!” Y/N gasps when Jess comes into the room with a bundle of blankets cradled to her chest, Dean right behind. “You didn’t!”

“Passed her off as the baby,” Jess says brightly, setting the blankets on the bed and revealing the beautiful long-haired tabby. Skittle mewls and immediately curls up on Y/N’s lap. “No one even questioned us.”

“You guys are geniuses,” she says, scratching her cat’s ears and listening to the resulting purr.

Dean holds his hands up. “That was all Jess’s idea.”

The blonde shrugs modestly. “We can’t stay for long, but I know how much you’ve missed her and she’s definitely missed you, too.”

Y/N smiles softly, and lifts the cat up to kiss her head. “I know. Thank you.”

“Dean?”

Sam’s voice is soft, but it seems devastatingly loud in the quiet of the empty shop. The front lights are off, the door lock clicking shut behind Sam, and Kaia is long gone home. Dean’s just sitting in the back office, Skittles clutched to his chest even though his nose is starting to itch- she doesn’t set his allergies off like other cats do, but enough contact will eventually get him sneezing. He doesn’t care. The soft purring against his ribs is the only thing keeping back the tears.

“Back here,” he says softly.

Sam appears in the doorway and leans against the frame. “Hey. We missed you at dinner tonight.”

“Sorry.” Dean turns his face away. “Kaia has a test tomorrow. I took her closing shift so she can go study.”

“That was really nice of you.”

“I guess.”

“Think you’ll make it to dinner next week?”

“I’ll try.”

Sam sighs deeply. “Jess misses you. And it’d be nice for Bobby to see his uncle.”

“He’s getting so big,” Y/N murmurs, reaching over to gently stroking Bobby’s fine blonde hair with one slender hand.

“They grow so fast,” Sam agrees. He looks huge beside her on the couch, and even bigger compared to Bobby. “Wanna hold him?”

Her eyes light up and Dean’s glad that that joy hasn’t been destroyed by all this- that joy he fell in love with in the first place. “Yes, please.”

Sam carefully helps her take Bobby, getting him positioned so she can hold him without putting too much strain on her arms.

“He’s so beautiful,” she whispers, gazing down at him.

“He looks a lot like Jess,” Sam observes.

“Maybe,” Y/N agrees. “But he definitely got your nose.”

“How can you tell? It’s all squishy still.”

“Trust me on this one.”

“Come on, I brought leftovers. Let’s go upstairs and eat.” Sam holds up a bag of tupperware.

“I’m okay here.”

“Dean. I know you’ve been sleeping in here or on your living room couch. That’s not good for you. You gotta go sleep in your bed.”

Dean shakes his head, rubbing his cheek against the top of Skittles’ head. “Can’t.”

“You won’t know if you can or can’t unless you try.”

“Don’t wanna try.”

“Dean.”

“Leave it, Sam.”

“How did cleaning go?”

Dean bites his lip, pushing his food around his plate. Y/N sighs.

“You didn’t do it.”

“I was gonna-”

“No, Dean, you weren’t. I know you. You’re gonna keep avoiding it.”

“I just… we were gonna do it together.”

“I know, but now you have to do it without me. I need you to do this for me. I need to know all that stuff is gone before I come home.”

If she comes home, but Dean doesn’t say that.

Sam leaves the food with him when he goes. Dean reluctantly makes his rounds, double checking all the locks. He flicks off the last lights, leaving only the security lights on, and begins the long journey up the stairs to his far too empty apartment.

Dean puts the tupperware in the fridge, alongside all the others Jess and Ellen and the neighbors have brought that he’s hardly touched. A few of them have probably turned into science projects by this point, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He takes the pile of bedding from the end of the couch and spreads it out. He changes into the pajamas he left on the coffee table before heading to the bathroom. He brushes his teeth and washes his face and shaves. Goes through the motions.

On the way back to the living room, he passes by the door he hasn’t opened in months. Couldn’t bring himself to open, not even when Y/N asked him to. It’s not locked- never has been. All it would take is turning the knob and-

The room is dark. There’s dust, but Dean doesn’t see it. He sees the pale blue walls, the Winnie the Pooh decals on the wall above the dark wood of the empty crib, and the surge of emotion is overwhelming.

The carpet is soft under his knees when he hits the floor- virtually untouched. The room seems to echo his sobs back to him, magnifying his pain tenfold, and he can’t do it.

He can’t do this.

“So, lilies signify innocence?”

“That’s right,” Y/N praises as a nurse checks the needle depositing medicine into her veins. “Can you be more specific, though?”

Dean rubs a hand through his hair. “Well, they’re usually used for funerals because they represent the returned innocence of the person who’s passed. White lilies specifically symbolize purity and majesty.”

“Exactly. See, you’re getting this.”

He grins sheepishly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’ll be a pro in no time.”

“Memorizing flower meanings doesn’t makes me a florist, babe.”

“I know, but it means you can help people pick their flowers so Kaia has less to worry about. She can teach you about arranging them if you want.”

“I don’t think I have the eye for that.”

“I think you doubt yourself.”

Dean sighs deeply, turning his face into Y/N’s neck. “I can’t do this, sweetheart.”

“If anyone can do this, Dean, it’s you.”

“You think so?”

“I know so, baby. I know so.”

“I know you never liked lilies much,” Dean says, kneeling on the still-new grass that’s sprouted since the funeral. “So I, uh- I made sure there weren’t any at the funeral. You probably noticed that. Probably noticed what I replaced them with. All the ones Kaia made have wilted and been thrown away, though, so I- I brought you new ones.”

He sets the fresh bouquet of tiny purple-blue flowers in the pot beside the stone.

“Your favorite,” he murmurs. “I’ll, um. I’ll make sure there’s always fresh ones in the store. Kaia’s been teaching me about arranging, but I’m not very good at it yet. Maybe next week I’ll throw in some other flowers. You don’t mind me practicing on you, right? I’m getting better at remembering what they all mean- not that I could ever forget these. Memories. Faithfulness. Undying love.” He gently brushes his fingers along the edge of one miniscule petal. “I miss you, sweetheart. I’ll bring Skittles with me next week. Bet she would like the fresh air. Okay?” Dean traces the letters carved into the stone. “I’ve gotta go man the shop, but I’ll be back next week. I love you.” He turns to the smaller stone a few inches away. “Hi, Mary. Daddy loves you. I miss you, baby.”

The words catch in his mouth, tangled up in a sob he can’t hold back. The force of it surprises him, and he hunches over, bracing himself with a hand on the tiny stone. The edges of the carved letters dig into his palm.

“I miss you,” he manages. He moves his hand to the bigger stone. It’s cold against his skin. “I miss you so much.”

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Team Reader-insert: @kittenofdoomage @ilostmyshoe-79 @justanothersaltandburn @teamfreewill-imagine @not-moose-one-shots @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @supernaturalfanfix @basic-joy​ @keepingitrealcas​ @amazingfulyou​ @jwilly18​ @love-kittykat21​

Team Dean: @xhollycowx​

[tinysidestrashcaptain]

Fond Memories

A story arc based on a truly epic RP with @cefmua56, this fic will have several arcs. Some will be posted on my blog, some on Cef’s. We hope you will enjoy this as much as we did! This time around, it’s adorable fluff. 

Pairings: Logicality

Warnings: I mean...it’s fluff. There’s hugs, but it’s all good. 

Patton bounded down the stairs at the chime of 10:00 a.m. A little later than he would have normally, but he decided since Thomas stayed up late last night, he would make breakfast an hour later. He slid into the kitchen and started the burners, beginning to make scrambled eggs and bacon. Happily humming the Winnie the Pooh theme song, he began to set the table casually making silly conversation with the spatula or the silverware in his hands.

Logan had been awake for quite some time, as regardless of Thomas's horrifying sleep schedule, he had work to do and the work would not wait. He was exhausted, frankly, but he knew he needed to press on. He heard Patton cheerfully nattering away in the kitchen, and could smell breakfast (bacon, maybe?) being cooked.

Now that Logan thought about it, he truly was rather hungry. And coffee would certainly help increase his productivity. The fact that he would get to see Patton was an entirely inconsequential component to his decision making process...or so he told himself as he wandered down to the kitchen.

Patton heard the footsteps of Logan as he wandered down the kitchen, when an alarming thought occurred to him. "Oh no Sir Spatula! I forgot to start the pot of coffee!" With haste he ran over and did just as he said for Logan and whoever else wanted to drink it that morning.

"Phew. Thanks for reminding me. Eheheh! My reputation might have gone SPLATula!" He giggled at his own pun, flipped the bacon, and mixed the butter in the eggs. Sighing, he stared up to the place he knew Logan would soon appear not a moment later.

Logan paused for a moment, hearing Patton speak, and vaguely heard him make yet another awful pun. Oh dear! It would seem Patton was going to be in one of THOSE moods today.

In all honesty, there was a small part of him that enjoyed puns, they were an interesting form of wordplay after all, but he would rather die than admit it. Even if the glowing smile that spread over the moral side's face whenever he complimented him was objectively adorable, true professionals did not use puns, ergo he could not encourage that sort of behavior. As he walked into the kitchen, he felt something in him ease slightly to know that none of the others were awake yet. These quiet moments in the mornings, when it was just the two of them, were his favorite.

Patton looked up at the stairs, wondering where the footsteps he heard had gone off too. He sighed sadly and turned his attention to the table behind him, only to find Logan standing right there in front of him. Patton jumped in surprise, clutching his heart in mock fright.

"Oh! Heheh! Good morning Logan! I didn't see you there. I'm making breakfast! Oh and I got your coffee started. It's BEAN brewed as we speak." He chuckled to himself at the pun and turned back to the scrambled eggs that were needing his attention.

"Good morning, Patton. I apologize if I startled you." Logan paused, then decided to ignore the pun in favor of trying to maintain Patton's emotional equilibrium.

"Oh, it's nothing Logan. You know me! Jumpy and jump-started, while jumping for joy!" Patton stirred the eggs just a little faster than normal, giddy at the fact it was just him and Logan in the kitchen. He could recall many times from years past where it was just the two of them at breakfast together before the inevitable other warring pair came down from their rooms to start the day out with tension. It was nice having the brisk, calm atmosphere for a change.

"Thank you for starting the coffee. Breakfast smells delicious. Is there anything I can assist with?" Logan offered, his head cocked to the side in question.

"You’re welcome Logan! Just having Sir Spatula help me out over here is all! Eheheh! I might have forgotten to set the water and orange juice on the table if you want to do that. Otherwise I can get it!"

Logan nodded, moved to the fridge and grabbed the orange juice and a pitcher of water, then set both on the table. He then turned back and grabbed a few glasses and plates, efficiently setting the table. It was the least he could do for Patton, especially considering that he was cooking the meal.

"Do you have any plans for the day?" Logan asked, trying to make conversation. He wasn't very good at it, generally speaking, but somehow conversing with Patton was always...easier...than with the others. He chose not to consider why that was.

Patton only just realized how scrambled the eggs were becoming and toned his movements down before it got out of hand. He let them simmer before flipping the bacon, then got out a bowl to put the eggs in and a serving spoon to go along with it.

"Well," He shut off the burner after placing the eggs into the bowl and setting them on the table. "There isn't much room for family activities since Roman's on a two day quest. He said he wouldn't be back until sometime tomorrow." Patton then grabbed a plate with some paper towels and set the bacon on them to (hopefully) remove at least part of the grease. Shutting off those burners, he continued his thought.

"And Virgil probably won't be up for another five or six hours! He went to bed super late last night! I was actually gonna ask to see what you were doing, Logan. I mean the only thing I had actually thought about was making strawberry shortcake for dessert after dinner tonight."

Logan's heart most emphatically did NOT skip a beat at the prospect of being able to spend time with Patton! He refused to acknowledge any such thing. He thought carefully about his schedule, about the tasks he needed to accomplish and the progress he had already made. Technically....he was ahead of schedule. He could spare two hours, perhaps a little more, to partake in a joint activity without putting Thomas behind.

"Well, I am somewhat ahead of schedule, so if there is a joint activity you would enjoy, I would be more than willing to spend some time with you today. Was there anything you had in mind? Also....I am very partial to that particular dessert, so I'm glad you are choosing to make it." Logan grabbed his mug and filled it with the freshly brewed coffee, adding cream and sugar as he liked it. He sat back down and waited for Patton to join him. There was something very peaceful about knowing he was going to have some of Patton's undivided attention.

Once Patton heard that Logan had actually suggested in spending time with him, a single butterfly inside of him that had been dormant for quite some time began to fly again. He had finally figured out why they had always fought in past videos. It was the tension from the other two that rubbed off on their dynamic, causing both mind and heart to fight.

Hearing that from Logan's mouth, brought forth a sense of comfort that had long since been forgotten in the depths of his very soul. It almost made him cry it moved him so much, but because of who he was, Patton was able to hide that particular emotion flawlessly.

Carefully setting the bacon on the table, he responded back to the logical aspect. "Really!? With me?! That's great to hear you are ahead of schedule! I honestly can't remember when the last time you said that was! It's..." Patton stopped to look at the kitchen calendar immediately lost in his own train of thought. "It's been awhile..." He shook his head out of the clouds and listed off a couple things they could do together.

"Well...we could watch a movie or bake something. Oh! I know! I had been meaning to organize some of Thomas's trinkets and memories in my room! It's still kind of a mess down there. But, I had never gotten around to it. Then I got a-thinking. Which side has the best organization skills out of us all of us? That's you Logan! I didn't know if you'd be busy, so I didn't ask sooner. What d’ya say?" He sat across from Logan and smiled widely. "And don't worry about the room affecting you. We can just organize them up here in the common area!"

Logan smiled, pleased with the compliment and with the activity that he knew he would enjoy. He really did love organizing and categorizing items.  "That would be most agreeable, Patton. I am sorry that I have been so busy as of late. I realize we haven't had as much time to spend together as we usually do. I hope you can forgive me for that?" Logan carefully started eating breakfast, sipping his coffee in between. He was immensely pleased to be able to make Patton smile.

Patton gave a smile so genuine that he thought would never cross his lips again, almost causing his cheeks to pink slightly. "Well of course I forgive you Logan! I know how busy you are!" Patton also began to eat breakfast, pouring himself a glass of orange juice and taking a few bites of his bacon and eggs.

"You used to talk to me about the different things you did for your work. When we ate breakfast together you would go on and on about all the kinds of things you had to do that day! Sometimes you would even show me your to do lists! Do you...remember all that? You were so excited when you were talking about your interests that I was sad when it was always interrupted by...them."

Logan adjusted his glasses, thinking. "It can be difficult for us to connect properly when we are refereeing yet another pointless argument between those two. Perhaps it would be possible to schedule a time each day to see one another? Even if it's only to converse for a brief time? I have...missed your presence."

Patton's cheeks flushed, his gaze onlooking his food, seemingly lost in thought. "Well I know right after lunch is when everyone goes back to do their own things. Roman usually goes off into his kingdom and Virgil either sits on the couch and listens to music for hours on end or goes to his room. That time works for me, but you usually are busy then."

He takes another couple bites of his food before continuing. "There's also early morning, like we used to do! But wouldn't Thomas's schedule be thrown off if we did that?"

Logan considered this for a moment. "Perhaps. But that is not necessarily a bad thing. His general habits, as far as timekeeping  and schedules, leave a great deal to be desired. I could shift a few things, leaving the early mornings free for us. Thomas is rarely productive early in the morning anyway, so it wouldn't be a great loss." His cheeks pinked slightly as he glanced at Patton. "Would....would that be acceptable?"

Patton had to look down at the floor he was smiling too much. He probably could have squealed right then and there in excitement, but he had to contain himself if he didn't want to scare Logan off. He knew how much emotion Logan could take by now, since living with him basically all his life.

He covered up his embarrassment by looking at his shoe if he had dropped something on it, then looked back up still with the same giddy grin as the old Patton would have. "Yeah! I can make that work! I make the most out of an early morning! Oh! I can see a change DAWNing on the horizon!” Patton thought about his pun then quickly shook his head. “Yeah that one wasn’t my best.”

Logan groaned out loud, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. "Truly, not one of your best, Patton."

"Eheheh! But...thank you so much Logan. I really have missed hanging out with you too." He finished the rest of his food, and began to take care of his plate. He sat back down after throwing his garbage away, smiling the whole time. "You wanna help me with my room after breakfast then?"

Logan cleared his plate, and started doing dishes. It was an unwritten rule that whoever did the cooking was exempt from cleaning, and Logan enjoyed cleaning far more than Patton did. As he washed, he looked up at Morality, smiling softly. "That would be acceptable."

Patton's cheeks flushed for about the third time. "Aww Logan! That’s very sweet of you. I honestly don't remember a time when anyone else did the dishes after breakfast besides me. Well maybe that one time Roman and Virgil made that mess in the commons and I had them do a bunch of chores as punishment." Patton chuckled softly, looked down at his feet, and began to rock back on forth on his toes, unsure of what to do.

"I really did miss you Logan. So often us aspects get caught up in our own jobs that we forget to hang out with each other. I'm almost losing heart whenever I try to set up movie night or something for us all to hang out together...it always ends up on the sour side of the spectrum. I just love you all so much, but whenever something like that doesn't work out, I blame myself and ask, 'Is it me? Did I do something wrong?'"

Patton just realized that he had ranted his true feelings to Logan and quickly covered his mouth, glancing away from him. "Sorry you didn't need to hear all of that.  It'll all be okay!" He turned back around and smiled at him.

Logan dried his hands and reached out, placing a hand on Patton's shoulder. "Patton, I am glad you said something. If you are ever troubled, I hope you know you may always confide in me. I am ...not always good at deciphering emotions, but I am your friend and I will always provide comfort and support when needed. I will speak to the others, and we can plan a Family Movie Night for later in the week. I'm sure they don't realize how their bickering impacts you, and if they did it would immediately cease. You are extremely important, Patton. To all of us. You do not have to suffer in silence. And...please, don't ever think that our general dysfunctions have anything to do with you. You are....the best of us." Logan's cheeks flushed a little, but his eyes were steady and earnest. He rarely said anything he did not mean, and he meant every word of this.

"I know you are a tactile person, and enjoy physical expressions of affection." Logan cleared his throat, straightening his tie nervously. "Given that you were distressed, I believe a good friend would offer you a hug, at this point?" He tentatively held out his arms, not really sure if this was the correct course of action.

Patton's smile faltered as he heard his friend talk. While Logan was speaking, Patton wanted nothing more than to throw himself into Logan's arms and just cry, but he held himself back and waited until the logical aspect's speech was finished. When Logan did offer a hug, Patton had to keep his melancholy tears from pouring out and carefully accepted Logan's hug, wrapping his arms around him. He did his best not to squeeze too tightly or cry as a sense of nostalgia back to when Thomas was a kid overtook him. "Your hugs are still the best Logan. Thank you."

Logan chuckled at that, and his stiff embrace became softer, warmer. He gently squeezed, feeling Patton snuggle in closer. He could only hope the other Side couldn't feel the pounding of his heart. "I'm going to need your expertise as to proper form and duration. I.... haven't done this in quite some time. I had forgotten how pleasant it can be." His words were quiet, little more than a hushed murmur.

Truthfully, when Thomas was a child he and Patton had hugged often and with gusto. As Thomas had aged, Logan found himself saddled with increasing responsibilities and duties, and had been forced to "grow up" much faster. He'd stopped giving and receiving hugs somewhere along the way, and it was only now that he took into account how touch starved he truly was. Patton would give him endless hugs, if he asked, but Logan had gotten used to the cold, to the deprivation. Every point of contact on his body lit up, and he felt a soothing warmth seeping into his bones. Yes. Hugs were definitely good.

Patton chuckled with him, the sadness escaping from his eyes. "It’s so nice to hear that even after all these years you still like hugs." Patton took a chance and gently put his hand on Logan's back, rubbing in slow, small and smooth circles.

"Perhaps....we could engage in this activity more often?" Logan asked hopefully.

"Of course Logan. I have enough hugs to give that could fill the Grand Canyon! I would be more than happy to help you. And it would also help me in return."

Patton smiled fondly, slackening the embrace to see if Logan would try to remove himself from his hold. He did not want to hug Logan longer than he wanted to be held, lest he accidently push the Logical aspect away again.

Logan felt Patton start to withdraw, and although he could have happily stayed in the hug for some time yet, he also understood that he must follow the Moral side's lead. So, he loosened his hold, reluctantly releasing Patton. "I am always happy to be of assistance to you, Patton. Shall we start organizing now?"

Yes. A task. Better to focus on a task and not the soft warmth in his chest when he saw the genuine happiness in Patton's eyes. Feelings...the bane of his existence. And these feelings were sticky sweet strands that wrapped around his heart and pulled until he had no choice but to obey.

Patton felt Logan begin to draw away as he loosened his hold. Biting his lower lip once with sadness, he understood as he released and hung his hands casually at his sides.

Patton blushed as he came in contact with Logan's eyes once more. He could recall all the times that Logan looked at him. With harsh eyes or soft, but no matter what he did he couldn't get over just how truly amazing Logan's eyes were. It was nice to know that Logan was still the person he was all those years ago, even if he was more professional.

Patton had to forcefully remove his gaze from Logan's stunning eyes as he asked his question. "Oh yeah! I'll show you all that we need to organize. Patton beckoned him and did a full one-eighty, walking out of the kitchen and out into the common area.

Logan followed quickly behind Patton as they made their way to the commons. "You do realize that as a construct of the mind and not emotions that I can withstand exposure to your room without ill effects, don't you? I understand if you would rather not take the risk, of course. It is, after all, your room. I will assist you whatever you decide."

Upon hearing Logan's words, Patton spun around gleefully. "That's true! You should be fine and dandy in there then! And you are welcome whenever you want. I will warn you there are a tooooon of boxes down there. I was just trying to figure what I should keep in "Memories" and what I should chuck in "Forget" or "Long Term Storage". It's SORT of a problem. Eheheheh. You'll see." Patton walked over to his place by the curtains and stood proudly. "Ready whenever you are teach!"

Logan nodded, and they both sank down into Patton's room. Once there, he took a moment to steady himself, then looked around. The room was covered with multiple trinkets and memories. Some stuffed inside boxes, some laying on the floor. The boxes littered the room with different designs or labels on them. There was a pile of stuff from Thomas's old relationships, a pile of stuff from his high school and college, and huge pile of other miscellaneous memories that needed to be sorted. Numerous photos scattered the ground and the stairs held multiple stuffed toys Thomas had played with over the years, some of which Logan recognized.

To the left of the staircase where Virgil would have normally stood, hung Logan's old necktie, pinned to the wall in a slightly tacky fashion. "Welp! This is my room." Patton stood proudly, but flushed, his eyes drawn to the old tie he had forgotten to put away.

Logan glanced around, taking everything in. His eyes lingered on...was that his old tie? Why on Earth would Patton have that? It was certainly a memory of Thomas's, to be sure, but it was also his physical possession. When they'd switched outfits, and he'd created his new tie, his old one had mysteriously disappeared. It would appear he now knew who had it, but the only thing he didn't understand was why. Why would Patton want to hang on to an old piece of his clothing? It didn't make any sort of logical sense. He turned to Patton, ready to question the other side, but something on his face gave Logan pause. He looked...flushed. Was he sad? Upset? Guilty? Ugh, emotions were so utterly frustrating! His curiosity was eating at him, and he simply had to know.

"Patton...why do you have my old tie? It is illogical to keep it, so there must be an emotional response driving the action. I am not angry, I am merely confused. I don't understand....could you explain?"

Patton's heart stopped as he heard the logical side's question. Logan must have picked up on his embarrassment and of course he had to point it out. Patton quickly turned his face to Roman's side of the room, trying to hide his face from Logic as he walked towards the strip of fabric. Taking it down from the pin it was on, he held it back out to Logan.

"There's a lot of memories behind this tie Logan, and I just couldn't see it disappearing from your memory or any of the others so...I kept it here. Back when you helped Thomas make the vines and even before it became your signature trade mark Logan! I was just so tied up with it. Eheh. You can take it back if you want it though. I stole it because it reminded me of who you once were." Patton smiled at him sadly. "Who all of us once were." He then tried to lighten up the mood. "I almost swiped your unicorn onesie too, but I didn't know if you still wore it. It's still one of my favorite memories during the Sander's Sides videos."

Logan blinked, staring at the tie in Patton's hand. He was feeling...a great many things and all of them at once. "Patton....you should keep it, but just know that the memories of those times are not linked to that strip of fabric. I can never forget the Vines, or the fun we have had. And it was...fun. I am pleased you did not abscond with my onesie as it is quite comfortable and I do use it for "comfort" days. Whether the tie is in my possession or yours, the memories and emotions affiliated with those memories do not change. We have changed, admittedly, from what we once were. I believe that is true for all of us, even you. I may be....somewhat different....now....but I have not forgotten who I was. I would very much like to be that way again, if given the opportunity. It is just..."

Logan trailed off, looking down at the floor. "...It is no longer my place to be that way. I am meant to provide explanatory exposition. If I am not intelligent enough, if I do not fulfill my function correctly, what value am I to the group? There is nothing I do that cannot be easily accomplished by one of you. I am replaceable. Ergo, it is imperative that I function at optimal efficiency to demonstrate my value as a part of Thomas."

Patton almost dropped the tie at Logan's words, a great deal of sorrow beginning to encompass his facial features. So this was the reason. This is why he was always so cold and professional. Though Patton was overjoyed he had finally opened up, his heart wrenched out all the joy that could have been gotten by that fact. He couldn't handle it. Patton's heart broke for him and he hugged him right there, taking the logical side into his grasp.

"Logan, do you honestly believe that about yourself?! There is evidence in this room that shows that statement is just not true! And you know me, I'm all for honesty. Can I show you? Just how special you are to this family, and to me?"

Logan froze for a minute, surprised by the vehemence of Patton's actions and words, but he slowly relaxed in Patton's hold. He truly did enjoy the hugging, it was a thing he'd sorely missed. "If you wish, Patton...." it was said softly, and Logan didn't dare fan the small, stubborn spark of hope in his heart that whispered that perhaps he was wrong, perhaps he wasn't boring and useless.

Patton hugged him for a little bit longer, before he slowly let go. He then walked behind the logical aspect towards the hallway and rummaged around in the pile that held all of Thomas's high school and college belongings. He handed Logan three different photos that he found, also showing him Thomas's graduation tassel.

"So these are just a few things that are special about Logan Sanders. This first photo is when Thomas passed his last elementary exam. Guess who has the thought process for taking tests? You do! And this second photo here, these are Thomas's long lost friends in middle school! You have the information about loyalty and deep friendship! Remember love isn't always a feeling, it's also a choice! And you play a big part in that choice by analyzing a friend's loyalty, and recalling different actions to take based on the friendship between them and Thomas!”

"Yes, I suppose that is true, but Virgil could just as easily memorize materials for tests, and since Thomas has graduated from college and does not intend to further his education, such skills are now useless. Virgil also excels at analyzing the loyalty of others, albeit with a more negative viewpoint. With assistance from you or Roman, that could also be easily done by others." Logan understood what Patton was trying to do, he really did, but he couldn't help pointing out these facts. It was in his nature to question, to point out errors and inconsistencies. He knew this would likely be frustrating to Patton, but he honestly couldn't help himself.

Patton took a deep breath and continued. "But he still needs you to fill out paperwork. I may have his memories but remember what thomas said about you at the beginning of the Sander's Sides videos? You represent all of Thomas's facts he's ever learned! Without you he couldn't tell time, he wouldn't be able to know what Pasta is, or what he likes and dislikes. There would be no depth to our Thomas as a person, if you weren't around! I wouldn't be able to love some of the things that Thomas does if you weren't there to spark the interest!" Patton almost reached up and cupped Logan's face, but thought better of his actions.

Logan stared helplessly at Patton, his heart pounding in his chest and yet feeling lighter than it had in months. "I...these are just facts...easily learned by others....I..." Logan trailed off, unable to articulate his thoughts properly. He wanted very much to stay here, in the circle of Patton's arms, with the moral side looking at him in that wonderfully warm way, for the rest of his days. He wasn't entirely certain what that feeling meant, but he knew it was a fact.

Patton's left hand brushed Logan's right as he turned to face the side in front of him "They don’t represent learning Logan. We are not human, we are only parts of a human, and that trait is specifically yours to use. And Thomas loves to learn, you know he does. I know he doesn't learn as often as he used to, but he's starting that Astronomy class next semester right Logan? I always loved that spark of wonder in your eyes whenever our little guy learned something new. You used to talk so much about the things thomas learned, that it would annoy Roman to no end causing both me and Virgil to chuckle. But it was all in good fun. I miss that spark of wonder in your eyes."

Logan couldn't contain his excitement as the Astronomy course was mentioned. His entire face lit up and he beamed at Patton. "Have you seen the course material?! Oh, it is going to be incredible! There's so much new information to learn, space is so vast and infinite! Did you know that we can only detect about 5% of the matter in the universe??? The rest is made up of invisible matter (called dark matter) and a mysterious form of energy known as dark energy, which I do not know nearly enough about! I am extremely pleased Thomas chose to pursue this course of study."

Logan did an excited shimmy, gleefully imagining homework assignments and exams. He calmed for a moment, his smile still unusually wide and bright. "Thank you, Patton. I had been doubting myself for quite some time. You are remarkably good at lifting the spirits of others."

Patton's bright smile returned as Logan's long lost excitement did as well. He even let a blush dance across his cheeks as the logical aspect shimmied and talked about his fascination of astronomy.

"This is amazing Logan! I'm so happy! And don't be afraid to share anything you learned! I'd love to hear all the raps you make up about it!" With excitement, he took Logan into his embrace again and hugged him tight. "Logan, Can you promise me something? Please, if you’re ever doubting yourself again, don't leave it to fester like a wound. Please come and talk to me. I will remind you as many times as I need to how special you are. I don't want this iciness to ever form between us again."

Logan melted into Patton's embrace, a small noise of contentment involuntarily pulled from his lips as he burrowed into the warmth offered. "I will gladly make that promise, Patton, but only if you will swear the same. Should you ever feel as I did, please come to me. I am not always adept at emotional response, but I care very much for you and...I find it of utmost importance that you be happy. It is now a requirement for my own happiness, which is unusual." Logan pulled back from the hug, smiling at Patton. He knew he was probably saying too much, but he was determined to make Patton aware of his personal significance.

Patton giggled at his adorable noise, but decided not to comment on it further and relinquished his hold. "I will Logan. I promise just as you had. As for my happiness being a requirement for your happiness, I'll do my diddly-darned best that it doesn't falter. And if it does, well I got my bestfriend back and that’s enough happiness for me!"

Logan adjusted his glasses, feeling lighter and happier. "Well, let's get sorting, shall we?"

"Oh! I forgot that's what we came in here to do, isn't it?" Patton giggled to himself. "Yes! Let's sort things out in here, even though we kind of already did. If you want to work on photos, I need them in chronological order. The ones scattered on the floor are duplicates, don't worry about those. Each pile should hold a box of photos. I left the school ones for you, cuz I thought you might enjoy looking through some of them. I'll start with Thomas's acting career. Chuck something my way or tap if ya need me. I'll likely have my head in the clouds to be able to hear that well."

Logan started in on the photos, quickly flipping through them and putting them in appropriate order. Each photo represented a significant memory in Thomas's life. A great deal of those memories were from his academic career. Friends he had made, subjects he had studied, papers he had written, awards he had won. Logan could recall of these moments with perfect clarity, but it was pleasant to see each of these memories preserved in such an aesthetically pleasing way. It made him...happy...to look at these memories, to see all of the accomplishments.

Patton was right. He had done a great deal with Thomas and had a fair amount of influence over him in past years. It was only recently that Logan had felt his value was lessened. And, as he got to the more recent photos, he found less and less of them. Thomas had graduated, he had completed his academic career and gone on to do well on YouTube. He had no need for further education, but he had signed up for the Astronomy course (which Logan was very much looking forward to) as a placation. Logan knew it was not a sign of more, knew it was foolish to hope that Thomas would continue to grow and learn, but he couldn't help the small spark of hope that burned...that WISHED.

He looked over to Patton, who was happily sorting through Thomas's acting photos. He had illogical hopes here as well, but none of them would ever come to pass. Clearing his throat, he straightened the organized stack and walked over to Patton. "This set is completed. What shall I work on next?"

Patton was busy organizing brochures, pictures, and playbills from all the musicals and shows Thomas had ever seen or been in. He was delighted that his host had a passion for the stage and it brought joy to his heart whenever he saw him acting his heart out. It brought his mind to Roman, and how close they used to be as kids, but Roman was different now and he had to accept the fact that things might never be the same between them.

It was what had his spirits in the dumps these past couple years, but this new found friendship rekindling with the logical aspect seemed to fill the hole in his heart where all three of them used to stand equally. Why did Logan have such a precedence over his soul? Was it possible that he thought more of him than he thought? Buried sideways to the waist in Roman's pile, he looked back out of the hole to see Logan’s shoes standing next to his legs.

"Oh I'm sorry Logan. Did you say some- Oof!" Patton had moved to get up and bumped his head on the 'ceiling ' of the pile, forgetting he had dug a tunnel into the side of it. Thus everything above him caved in and landed directly on top of him pushing him to the ground. "Oh no! The mountain of drama has caved!" His chuckles sounded muffled underneath the pile, signaling to Logan that he wasn't actually hurt.

Logan grinned at Patton’s comment and swiftly started moving items, uncovering the moral side. As soon as he could see Patton's face, he reached in and hauled the him out of the mess and to his feet. Logan had always been remarkably strong, likely due to Thomas's strength with rational reasoning and thought. It had occurred to him that this fact might be disconcerting to the others (especially Roman) so he used it sparingly. But, in this case, he had to get Patton out of the pile to ascertain that he was unharmed. Patton's well-being was of the utmost importance. Once he'd set Patton on his feet, he quickly scanned him for injuries.

Patton could feel the weight of Thomas’s drama career lifted off of him as Logan began uncovering his body from the pile. His breath slightly hitched as Logan helped him out of the pile, all the while giggling in the process. Once Patton was on the ground again, he felt Logan's eyes scan every inch of himself, his heart skipping a beat at the amount of concern displayed in Logan’s eyes. "I think I'm okay Logan-" His voice dropped out as he noticed a painful sting on his right wrist. He looked down at it then frowned slightly at the small paper cut lingering there.

TO BE CONTINUED!

Tagging Random Folks:

@acookiedragonblog @the-sides-of-patton @tree4life25 @penstarz96 @cefmua56 @cinquefoilelove @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @otpislife2002 @didsomeonesayprince @chemicallyimbalancedromance @pirate-patton @leesacrakon @sidewritings @prplzorua @randomslasher @a-valorous-choice @migraine-marathon @emphoenixcat @kittyboof8 @michealawithana @romananalogicality @musicsavedmefromdeath @lackingroman @princeyssash @princey-must-slay @the-prince-and-the-emo @justanotherpurplebutterfly @storytellerofuntoldlegends @lilbeanblr @we-get-it-youre-adorable @amazable01 @infinitesimally-patton @introverts-assemble @1goth-kid1 @cookieartcannon @fandomsandanythingelse @angelpatton @fairly-grimm-sides

[thefastlanefanfic]

The Neighbors - TWO

Wattpad // Chapters 1-2

Sidenote: I’m so sorry if you’re on mobile lol this is gonna be long as shit (why does the “read more” thing not work on mobile)

5:00 AM on Monday morning came entirely too soon.  With the ability to select college courses all in the afternoon for my last semester, I'd been sleeping in until 11 o'clock in the morning.  It certainly didn't help that I'd been sleeping past noon the last few days I was at home on my "summer break."  There was something about finishing college that made me exhausted.  I would have thought I'd be energetic and stoked to greet the days void of research papers and group presentations, but instead, it was like every single all-nighter I ever pulled was catching up to me.

I threw on the new lavender scrubs my father bought for me and proceeded with my morning routine.  I made sure I had a lunch packed.  Since I was trying to be healthy, I packed a salad with some chicken I'd prepared the night before and some popcorn.  I loved popcorn.  I printed and filled out all of the grown-up paperwork I had to turn in to the company to make sure I got medical insurance coverage and direct deposit to my bank account every two weeks.  I felt like such an adult, having to do all of the background checks, I-9s, W-4s, and whatever other legal paperwork the company had to do before I could officially start work.  Then again, I had to call my dad about forty times in the process of filling out the forms because I had no idea what they were asking me.  Maybe I wasn't actually an adult just yet.

As I was walking to the front door, I noticed a group of crickets scatter away from the door inside the apartment.  I squealed and jumped backwards before I knew what they were.  Why were there so many of them in my apartment? I noticed the early morning sun streaming in through a sliver of a crack under the door.  I swore to myself.  The reason the crickets sounded so close to me last night was because they had come under the door into the apartment.  I figured they were just sitting outside my bedroom window as I was trying to sleep.  

I used my dustpan to chase a few of the crickets back toward the front door.  Some of them had disappeared under my couch.  Others were chirping from hidden crevasses in the apartment I had yet to discover.  I growled as I heard one chirp that sounded like it was in my ear, but I couldn't find it anywhere around me.  I checked my watch.  I was going to be late for work.  I opened the front door to shoo out the few crickets I could direct out of the apartment.  On my front stoop was a small bag.  The smell of warm shit filled my nostrils and began to crawl into my apartment, mixed from the humidity already clouding up the atmosphere outside.

"What the-"

I didn't have time or patience to decipher whether the dog crap was an insult directed toward me or just a rude, lazy neighbor who couldn't make it to his own trashcan.  I glanced out into the quad to see if anyone was out with their dog.  The quad was quiet.  Still asleep.  I slung my purse over my shoulder and switched my lunchbox to my left hand.  In my right hand, I pinched the very tip of the bag between my pointer finger and my thumb and quickly made my way to the trashcan along the sidewalk.  I threw the bag into the can and shivered, the smell of warm shit still lingering in the dense air.

"Early shift this morning?"

I nearly leapt out of my skin as someone approached from behind me.  I whipped around, my purse swinging with my body and slapping against my butt as I did.  It was Wilson.  He was in uniform and looked like he was returning from a night shift.

"Or are you just returning home?" He asked.

It was too early for me to be dealing with him.

"Heading out," I said.  "First day."

"Yippie-ki-yay!  Good luck, even though I'm sure you'll be outstand-erific," he said, winking at me. "Maybe later tonight we can do that dinner date.  Early birthday dinner?  I know your birthday isn't until tomorrow but I just found out I've got a 16-hour shift tomorrow and I'm not sure I'll be able to take you out on that day.  I'm covering for a buddy."

"You know, Wilson, I really just need to stay home and do some more getting settle-" I started, trying to weasel my way out of this "date."

"Oh come on, Leah.  One dinner date.  Maybe more after that, but only if you fall in love with me first."  He snatched my free hand that previously held the poop-bag and kissed it.

I pulled my hand away and fake smiled.  "One meal," I agreed, eager to get going.  I refused to call it a "date."

"Magnificent," Wilson said, raising his arms to the heavens as if God himself had granted Wilson the permission to take me out. "I will pick you up around 7.  Does that work?"

Just then, Harry sauntered into the quad wearing nothing but shorts and tennis shoes.  He had a t-shirt draped around his neck and was using it to wipe the sweat from his forehead.  His hair was sticking straight up into the air.  His chest glistened with more sweat.  I caught myself before my jaw dropped too noticeably.  Harry's eyes met mine and he winked at me, smiling.

"Leah? Dinner tonight at 7?" Wilson asked again.

"What?" I asked, snapping back to reality. Harry was walking past us.  I wished Wilson would shut up and leave. "Yeah, that's great.  See you later-" I said, turning and following Harry.  I called his name before he entered his apartment.  He turned and smiled at me again.  

"Lee." He wiped his forehead with his t-shirt.  The full-frontal view of his bare torso finally gave me a look at the ink that covered every inch of his skin.  Each piece of art came to life as his lungs expanded with each deep breath he took.

"Leah," I corrected him, laughing as though it didn't really hurt me that he couldn't seem to remember my name.  ""Like, Lee-uh. Lee-uh," I repeated.  I sounded like an idiot. "How are you?"

"Great," Harry said.  "Nothing like an early morning run."

I faked a laugh. "Yeah."

"Do you run?" Harry asked.

"Not if I can help it," I answered honestly, chuckling to myself.  Harry raised his eyebrows and nodded, the look on his face indifferent to whether I really ran or not.  There was a glimmer in his eye that made it look like he was almost laughing at me internally or just really enjoying the conversation.  One of those, or he just was being overly polite and wanted to go shower off the sweat that was flowing gently over his toned torso. "I mean," I said.  "I should probably start..."

"Not a bad habit to pick up," he said, wiping just below his messy hair with his t-shirt one more time. "I can see how it's not for everyone though.  You headed to work?" He looked me up and down in my lavender scrubs and smiled as though I was a four-year-old child dressed up for the job I wanted in the future.  To be fair, that's about how I felt.  I couldn't believe I was about to have my own adult job.

I nodded slowly, enjoying the way the words rolled off his tongue and dripped off of his lips before I snapped out of my trance and shot a look at my watch.  "Oh shit- I'm actually going to be late."

"Good luck-"  Harry said, turning and using a key to open his front door as I sprinted across the quad, holding my purse tightly to my hip.  I slid to a halt with a sudden courage to ask:

"Harry, are you doing anything later tonight?"

He had disappeared into his doorway but the door was not yet closed.  He reemerged and shrugged.  "I'm not," he called to me. "Sounded like you made plans with Wilson, though."

The hopeful smile that had spread across my face disappeared as quickly as it came.  "Oh, yes.  I forgot."

Harry smiled and shook his head. "Maybe another time, Lee.  Get to work."

"Leah," I corrected him once more.  

He merely laughed and closed his front door.

I was tense arriving to work because I was a few minutes late.  I rushed into the main foyer of Sunshine Days Nursing Home and nearly slammed into the front desk.

"Leah Fitzpatrick here for work.  It's my first day."

The middle-aged, overweight receptionist was wearing some Winnie-the-Pooh scrubs, though the way she had snacks and drinks and cheap romance novels scattered all over the desk made it seem that she didn't actually work with any of the patients personally.  The only spills her scrubs were catching were from her 64oz mega-drink soft drink cup she'd picked up from a truck stop and the ketchup swirled onto a half-eaten pizza that was laying in the empty receptionist chair beside her.  She peered over her glasses at me.  I found it hard to meet her eyes since so much dead skin and eye goop had congealed in the corners of her glasses where the bargain-brand frames met the bridge of her pale nose.  Her red, short, curly hair matched the cheap red lipstick that had found its way to her front teeth.

"You're late," she said.

"I just got a little held up at home.  My new apartment... the bolt lock was giving me problems," I lied.

I could tell the receptionist wasn't buying it.  She cocked her head at me and looked at me.  I was almost waiting for her to say, "Mhmm.  Really?" I was relieved when she didn't.

"There are people here who work a night shift and it's really fucking tiring.  Have you ever worked a night shift?" She snapped.

I shook my head.

"It's really fucking tiring.  People are going to be mad if you refuse to get here on time.  They want to sleep.  Don't you like your sleep?"

I nodded.

"Then get here on time. It's really fucking tiring to work a night shift."

"Okay..." I said.  "I got it."

The receptionist sat back in her comfortable swivel-chair and placed a fat hand on her chest like she'd been personally attacked. "If you're going to have a problem with coming to work on time you may as well quit now.  Do you need to turn around and walk out those doors or are we going to agree that you come in at five o'clock?"

"Six," I corrected her.

She gasped at me, again offended that I would even open my mouth.

"Six is what the email said.  I can show you," I said, pulling out my phone.

Clearly not wanting to be proven wrong, the receptionist held up a hand to me and shook her head.  "Just be on time next time, okay?  We don't have patience for people who don't take this job seriously."

"Jesus, Martha, cool it," a cool voice said from a hallway behind me.  A woman in her 30's approached me and the receptionist slyly.  She looked too clean to have worked a night shift.  I wondered if she was working the day shift with me.  Still addressing the receptionist, she said, "You were late on your first day because you spilled a Chick-fil-a milkshake down your front and had to go back home and change."  

Martha's face flushed red.

The new woman leaned on the counter and looked at me. "Leah?"

"Yes," I said, extending a hand, relieved that someone spared me from the unwarranted wrath of the receptionist.

She shook it.  She was a plain looking woman with brown eyes and brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail.  She was wearing no jewelry or makeup, but still had a subtle beauty about herself. "Nicolle.  I'll be showing you around these next few weeks.  Or until you pick it up on your own."

She put her hands into the front pockets on the shirt of her green scrubs and walked back down the hallway she'd originally emerged from.  I followed, finding nothing but administrative offices and break rooms.  "You can put your stuff here," Nicolle said, motioning toward a single wall of tan lockers once we'd reached the room the furthest down the hallway.  There was a table in the middle of the room with a few coffee cups, food wrappers, and magazines spread across it.  A cell phone was plugged into the wall, charging.  An old, square computer monitor was in the corner of the room I figured no one ever visited - the top of the computer was coated in a thick layer of dust.  As the outdated "Windows" icon bounced from side to side of the monitor screen, it seemed to shake dust particles onto the rickety-looking desk it was sitting on.  "Don't let Martha scare you," Nicolle said as I shoved my purse and lunch into a locker that reeked of old perfume.  "Martha was engaged and basically got dumped for a skinny girl.  It sucks.  I'd be pissed if that happened too.  But Martha then proceeded to gain another 200lbs after her fiancé left her.  Whole thing was a mess.  She just hates anyone she thinks is prettier than her." Nicolle stretched her arms over her head and yawned.

I wanted to feel bad for Martha, but because of the first and only encounter we'd had so far, I couldn't make myself feel for her.

Nicolle crossed her arms over her small chest.  "We don't do a whole lot of training here for newbies unless you feel like you need it.  You're fresh out of school though, right?  You should have a better grip on physical therapy and art therapy and meds than any of us."

I laughed.  "It's been a month since I've had to crack a textbook so I wouldn't mind a refresher of the meds.  The rest I think will come naturally."

"Don't worry about the medicine so much.  We have a registered nurse who sorts out dosages and brings the meds to you for whichever client you're with at the time.  You just hand it to the client and make sure they don't spit it out or choke."

"Sounds easy," I said.

Nicolle laughed.  "Easy unless you're working with Mr. Lewis.  He'll spit until he has no more saliva if it means he doesn't have to take his meds."

For the day, I basically shadowed Nicolle.  She was 35.  Married to a guy she'd dated since high school.  She kept assuring me that she loved the guy but proceeded to talk about all of the problems they were having and how tired of him she was.  She droned on about how she went out with some of her single friends a week ago and was hit on by a tall, handsome cowboy.  "I should have gone home with him.  Spiced up my life a little bit.  There is never any excitement anymore," she said to me as we carried lunch trays down the hallways from room to room.  Before I could give her my opinion, she spoke to the old man in the room we'd entered. "Mr. Davenport, salmon today."

The old man she addressed merely turned his back to us and continued to watch The Price Is Right on his television.  He curled his lip like he was disgusted as Nicolle placed the tray of food on a table beside him.

She rolled her eyes at me and motioned toward the door.  In the hallway, she said, "He's a chef.  Has a daughter who's a chef too.  He says her name is Kennedy, I think.  She lives in NYC.  Dating some famous boxer.  Mr. Davenport talks about her all the time, but she never calls or visits.  I can't tell if she's actually real or if he's just crazy.  He claims he won't call her because he put her up for adoption when her mother died during child birth.  I just think Kennedy's a figment of his imagination.  Anyway, the food is never good enough for him but he'll eat it if you just leave it for him."

By the time I got to take a lunch break, I was exhausted.  There was something about the slow day that made me more tired.  I felt like I wasn't really doing a whole lot, but making small talk with some old people who were mentally aware enough to recognize I was a new staff member, and other old people who weren't mentally aware enough to recognize that I was NOT, in fact, their grandchild.  One woman in particular kept calling me "Elizabeth," who Nicolle later informed me was the baby girl the old woman miscarried in the 1930's.  Really, it all made me sad.  It just made me think of my father.

During group art therapy time, I sat with a table of four elderly women and watched as they painted aimlessly on their own canvases.  Really, three of them were painting.  The fourth was tugging at the uncomfortable smock that we'd distributed to everyone to keep their clothes from getting paint on them.  

"Shelley, I don't like this fabric," the old woman croaked, addressing my new coworker across the room.  

Shelley sighed and crossed her legs as she helped one of the elderly at her own table.  She scratched under the heap of blonde hair on the top of her head, which I guess was supposed to be a messy bun.  "Lydia, we've told you, we are keeping your other clothes from getting dirty."

The old woman looked at me as if I was supposed to contradict Shelley and give her permission to take the smock off.  I smiled at her as politely and sympathetically as I could, but didn't say anything.  In the 8 hours I'd been there, I didn't feel I knew any of the clients well enough to ask anything of them or order them around.  

"This damn place..." Lydia muttered under her breath, turning to face the muted TV that had some low-budget soap opera playing.  Her stiff, grey hair stayed perfectly in place as she huffed and puffed in her chair.  Her overly-exaggerated actions almost made her look like an annoyed teenager who had just been told "no."

I got lost in the soap opera for a moment. There was something about watching those shitty actors on mute that made it seem like they might almost be good at acting for a second.  I felt something wet land on my arm and drew my attention back to the table where Mrs. White had accidentally flicked green paint onto my new lavender scrubs.  I pursed my lips and sighed.  It was only a small blot of paint, but they were my brand new scrubs.  I tried not to be mad.  I knew my face probably showed nothing more than indifference.  I was good at hiding emotion when I wanted to.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth," she said to me, glancing down at the table where she'd also dripped paint.  "I'm so clumsy these days..."

I stood up. "It's okay, Mrs. White." Almost immediately after rising to my feet, behind me, I heard some kind of liquid splattering on the wood floor, like someone had poured their water straight onto the ground.  I turned to see another woman, Miss Jane, with her elastic-waisted pants around her ankles, her Depends diaper around her knees, and her bare butt hovering just over the side of an empty vase beside the doorway to the community room.  I gasped as I realized that she was mistaking the vase for a toilet.  Though she was aiming for the vase, she was really getting half of her pee into the vase and the other half of it on her shoes and the floor.

"No, don't!" I blurted, a natural reaction to Miss Jane's mistake.  The old woman jumped, my outburst having scared her.  She stumbled backward and tipped over the vase.  I could hear the urine in the vase slosh before the vase hit the floor.  It was like it was happening in slow motion.  It was another natural reaction for me to stoop down and try to stop the vase from tipping completely over, but I was too late, and the vase bounced onto the floor, showering me in warm old lady piss.  I stood slowly, held back a gag, and shuddered.  In the corner of the room, my coworker Shelley merely cackled, still scratching under the heap of hair tied up on her head.

"Not the first time that's happened.  Next time, let her finish peeing.  Easier to clean up if you don't knock over the vase," Shelley said, looking nonchalantly at the old man painting beside her.

By the end of the day, I was defeated.  Done.  Grossed out.  A little depressed.  How could I do this job?  How could I last more than a week?  How did Nicolle and Shelley work so long in a place with people who couldn't go to the bathroom on their own or even remember who their own kids were?  I knew what I was getting into by taking this nursing home job... but then again, I didn't.

I wheeled into the parking lot at my apartment complex and dragged my body from the front seat of my car.  No sooner had I set my feet on the pavement did Wilson come bouncing jovially around the corner of the quad.  He was decked out in his cop uniform.

"I've been waiting for you!" He said.  He had to have been staring out the window of his apartment until I drove up.  Unless maybe he was standing outside the quad waiting for me too.  I wondered how long he'd been waiting. His blonde hair was slicked back so tightly that it didn't move as he bounded toward me.  

I had forgotten about our dinner.  I wanted to groan.  It was times like these I wished I had the power to make myself vomit on command.  If I could have one super power, it would be to vomit whenever I wanted just so I could weasel my way out of hanging out with people.

"Can I take a rain check on dinner?  I've had a hard day... my stomach is hurtin-" I started.

"No escaping your birthday! Your dad told me you're not much of a birthday person but I'm going to force you to dinner!" Wilson said, locking my small wrist in a tight clasp of his fingers and pulling me toward his cop car.

I silently cursed my dad for telling Wilson about my birthday at all.  "Wilson, I just really am so tired- I mean, I'm covered in pee and-"

"No excuse is going to get you out of this.  Your daddio said you would try every excuse in the book so I'm not buying it."

I was trying to find a way to free my wrist from his grip without making it seem like I was whipping my hand away from him, but he was not letting loose.

"I made reservations for 7:00 and it's 6:45! We have to get there," he said hurriedly, opening the back door to his cop car. "Let's get to bangin' on all cylinders."

I hesitated, suddenly the only thought occupying my mind: "Wait... you want me to ride in the back?"

"Awkward, I know," Wilson said, uneasily sighing and laughing at the same time.  "You can't ride in the front unless you're a cop."

"I didn't know that was a thing..." I said slowly.

"It's a thing.  Big thing.  Big thing," Wilson said.  He looked impatiently at the watch on his wrist and bounced his knees.  "We gotta get going though so jump in! The back is not that bad, I promise.  It'll be fun.  A good party story later in life.  Tell your friends like 'hey, I rode in the back of a cop car once.'"

I stared into the black back seat where a gate was going to keep me from properly communicating with Wilson.  The window was also barred.  I looked over my shoulder at the blue low-rider I'd first seen him in the day that my father helped me move in.  "We can't take that car?" I asked, pointing at it.

Wilson bounced on his toes.  I could tell he was getting more and more annoyed with me as each second passed.  Maybe I could piss him off enough to make him ditch his own date.  He inhaled sharply.  "I'm on call so we have to take the duty car.  It's fun in the back!  Don't worry."

I sighed heavily.  There was no way this guy was letting up.  "Can I change first? I'm covered in pee-"

"Good golly-wolly," Wilson laughed harshly.  "Your dad was right.  You really don't like your birthday-" He nearly pulled me into the back seat like I was a criminal.  He slammed the door in my face, nearly crunching my foot in the process.  I gawked at him, though he couldn't see me inside the tinted, barred window.  He jogged around to the drivers' seat, and before I could protest dinner any more, flew backward out of the parking lot and onto the main street.  He was speeding like crazy.

We came to a red light and he hummed angrily.  I watched in disbelief as he flicked on his police siren and forced the cars to part like the Red Sea.  He drove recklessly through another red light at an intersection, but all cars halted for him to speed through since he had his lights on.  Meanwhile, he didn't seem to notice me sliding around all over the back seat.

We arrived at an Olive Garden.  Wilson had to come let me out since my door wouldn't open from the inside.  A family of four eyed me suspiciously in my nasty scrubs as I crawled ashamedly out of the grimy back seat of the cop car.  Wilson didn't address me as he aggressively took my arm and pulled me into the restaurant.  He shoved through the waiting crowd by the front door and tapped the bell at the hostess' desk obnoxiously.  The hostess, who saw him approach and was going to speak to him even before he dinged her bell, froze with her mouth open.  I tried not to laugh as I watched her face, a fake smile spreading from cheek to cheek as she kept her cool with this rude customer.

"Table for two? The wait will be about 45 minutes," she said.

"Reservation for Kilmer at 7:00.  Sorry we are late.  This one wouldn't stop bitching-" Wilson said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at me.  

The hostess peeked over Wilson's shoulder at me.  I made the classic "what-the-hell-is-this-dickhead-talking-about" face at her and she seemed to immediately read me.  I was too tired to fight this.  And by this, I meant Wilson as a whole.  I had already accepted that this was going to be a disaster date I would talk about four years from now.

We sat at the table and ordered food.  I watched Wilson's face as he handed his menu to the busty, blonde waitress who wrote down our order.  His eyebrows were tightly drawn together and his jaw was clenched.  Almost like a flip had switched, his face relaxed with a single blink and he smiled at me.  "Happy birthday."

"My birthday is tomorrow," I said rudely, crossing my arms across my chest.

Wilson sighed heavily and relaxed in the booth seat we were in.  "My, my, my.  You are a little jokester, aren't you?"

I felt like he was trying to play off the fact that I was NOT, by any means, having a good time.

The waitress plopped down a basket of bread between the two of us.  Wilson grabbed a stick and shoved half of it in his mouth.  I watched as crumbs scattered down the front of his officer uniform, all blue this time instead of tan.  He chewed with his mouth open, flecks of spit flying my direction and landing on my arms and hands.  I crossed my arms across my chest as if it might actually help protect me from the flying spit.  It didn't.

"Let me get a Miller Lite.  Bud Lite.   Whatever beer you have that's light," he said to the waitress, half of the bread still in his mouth.

"Aren't you on call?" I asked. "You shouldn't be drinking."

He winked at me.  "I won't tell if you won't."

I sunk my head into my hands.  "Good god..." I sighed, mainly to myself.  Wilson ignored me.

We sat in silence after that.  Wilson tapped his short, stubby fingers along the table and clicked his tongue as he looked around at the other dinner guests enjoying their carb-loaded meals in the yellow lighting of the restaurant.  I didn't ever know it was possible to go from hero to zero so fast.  Not that Wilson was ever a hero in my book, but he seemed like more of an asshat than ever.  I was praying to God Wilson wouldn't get called into work for some kind of backup.  I was dying to escape this dinner, but after three beers, light or not, I was terrified thinking about what kind of damage this careless cop could do when he wasn't in the right state of mind.  Each time he ordered another beer, I would give him a death stare and tell him, "I don't think that's a good idea."

Each time, he ignored me and drank his next beer faster.

He motioned for the waitress to come to the table once more.  Without him asking, she brought him another mug of beer and placed it in his outstretched hand.

“I really wish you wouldn’t drink another,” I said to Wilson, unable to look this asshole in the eyes anymore as he cupped his fourth mug of beer in his hands.

“Listen, if you’re going to be my girlfriend, you need to be less controlling. I can’t believe this is our first date and you’re already trying to control me,” he said, lifting the rim of the glass cup to his lips and sipping the beer.

There was such a drastic difference between how Wilson was talking to me and treating me now as opposed to how he had been with me in front of my father. I wanted to believe that he was just playing a role to appease my father and give me a good first impression that day, but even earlier this morning, when he asked me to dinner, he seemed to be a totally different person.

“What did you do today?” I asked him.

He sighed in annoyance. “I’ve been on call all day,” he told me, putting to rest any thought that I had about him maybe just having a rough day. Whether he had a good day or not didn’t give him the right to treat me like he was.

He polished off his fourth beer and signaled the waitress for another.

I leapt to my feet. “I’ve got to go to the bathroom.”

Wilson just stared up at me.

I turned and made my way through the tables, the murmur of private conversations surrounding me as I turned my hips to squeeze through chairs and people. I walked back to where the kitchen was and met our waitress as she was rounding the corner of the kitchen with another beer in her hand.

“Don’t you have an alcohol serving limit?” I asked.

She blinked at me and began to stutter.

“He’s on call for work. For police work,” I explained, trying to make her feel bad.

“I mean, he’s the customer though… I didn’t know he was working. Anyway, what he chooses to drink is up to him.” She tried to push past me with the beer, but I put my hand on her shoulder and pushed her back.

“He’s not going to arrest you if you cut him off, you know,” I said.

She gasped at me. “That’s not what I thought would happen anyway-“

“So you’re just going to over-serve him alcohol to boost your tip?” I asked.  I knew my tone was rude but I didn’t care. This was important.  A few other waitresses had protectively gathered around the one who had been serving us.

“What’s the problem?”

The waitress inhaled sharply. “She just couldn’t find the bathroom. It’s this way to the left,” she told me, pointing a finger past me and waiting for me to try and bring up the alcohol issue again.

I glared at her, turned on my heel, and nearly ran to the bathroom. I pulled out my phone and googled the number of the Easton Police Department. I locked myself into a bathroom stall as the phone began to ring.

“Easton P. D., how can we help you?”

“Listen, I have a problem-" I said, running my finger over the latch on the bathroom door.

“Ma’am, let me transfer you to emergencies-"

“No! No,” I blurted. “This is about one of your employees. He’s on call right now. Officer Wilson Kilmer. He’s-"

“Oh… Hold on, sweetheart. I’m going to have to transfer you anyway.”

“What?” I asked. “To who??”

“Please hold.”

The phone began to ring again before I could speak to the receptionist anymore.

“Chief Moore speaking, who is this?” A voice sounded as quickly as the ringing had begun.

“Um, my name is Leah and I’ve got a problem with one of your officers. Officer Wilson Kilmer?”

The other end of the line was silent for a moment. “What has he done?”

“Nothing yet, I suppose. We’re at dinner and he said he’s on call and he’s just been drinking a lot.  He’s intoxicated I think and I just want to make sure he doesn’t get called in. I don’t want him hurting someone because of a lapse in judgment caused by the beer,” I explained hurriedly.

“What?”

“I asked him to stop and even told the waitress to stop serving him but-"

“Is he wearing the uniform?”

I nodded and said, “Yes.”

“Where are you?” He asked.

“The Olive Garden on… uh…. I don’t know… I just moved to Easton like, three days ago. I’m so so sorry-”

“Miss, please. It’s okay. Thank you for the call. We’ll take care of it.” The line went dead.

I walked out of the stall and saw an older woman watching me in the reflection of the mirror as she wiped the water off of her hands. I knew she’d heard it all. She merely nodded at me once and smiled before throwing away her hand towel and exiting the bathroom.  I walked to the sink and threw water on my face before peering at my own tired reflection in the mirror.  God, this had been a long and eventful day.

When I walked back to the table, I was surprised to see Wilson throwing our food into to-go boxes. The food must have just arrived. He looked rushed.

“C’mere, Leah, come on. We’ve got to go. I called you a cab. I’ve got to go to work. They just called me in-“

“What??” I asked, shocked for a moment before I had the idea that maybe he was being called into work by the chief to get his ass chewed.

He grabbed his uniform jacket and threw some money down onto the table. He grabbed both of the boxes of food and pulled me by my wrist through the restaurant and out the door. As we walked out, another cop car turned slowly into the parking lot.

“James,” Wilson said seriously, coming to a halt as James pulled up in front of us and stepped out of the car.  James had a cautious, and yet seemingly unnecessary, hand hovering close to the gun on his hip.  James was also young, with short brown hair covered by his police hat and dimples so deep that you could fall into them if you got too close. He smiled faintly at me.

“Wilson-“

“James.   What’s the problem??  Robbery??  Murder-“

“Hey, man.  Why don’t you jump in the car and I’ll tell you on the way to the station?” James said, almost like he was talking to a confused child.  He looked at me and blinked slowly.

Wilson didn’t even seem to remember that I was standing there as he sprinted around the front of the cop car and dove into the front passenger seat with both my dinner and his.

James instantly turned to me and lowered his voice.  “Miss, we want to thank you for the call.  I’d just be careful around him from now on.”

On, I was planning on it.  I was planning on staying far, far away.  I meant, as far away as I could while still living next door to him.  James stepped back into the police car, closed the door, and sent one more sympathetic look my way as he drove away with Wilson.

At that moment, the taxi arrived.   I hadn’t even thought about the fact that Wilson literally called me a taxi to drive me home.  Not even something more clean and modern, like an uber or a lift.   There was something about just looking at the rusty, yellow taxi that made me feel dirty - well, dirtier than I already was.  I climbed into the cab slowly, avoiding a splash of grey mystery goop on the faux-leather seat and trying not to lean too far back.  There was a rip in the seat behind my back, and I was nervous that if I relaxed too much, I'd be sucked into the trunk by some taxi-demon.  I was hesitant to even pull the slick, greasy seatbelt across my still pee-stained scrubs.

The driver coughed so hard that I was worried a lung was going to hit the windshield.  It was obvious he'd just polished off a cigarette, the smell lingering despite the car's open windows.

"Where to?" He croaked.

I almost couldn't remember my new address.  "Marble Park apartments," I finally told him after racking my brain. He tried to make small talk, but I was too busy running over the events of the day to have a conversation with him.

When we got to the apartments, I paid the cigarette smoke-ridden cab driver and dragged myself out of the torn-up back seat, accidentally dragging my hand through the mystery goop I'd tried so hard to avoid the whole 20 minutes home.  I groaned and wiped whatever the sticky residue was onto my pee-stained scrubs and sighed heavily and almost sing-song-y as I rounded the corner of the quad.  It was dark outside, all except for the three, dim porch lights that were bright enough only to illuminate the three feet of porch there was for the first-floor apartments.  The lamp post in the middle of the quad was also dimly lit.

I used the entirety of my body weight to open the front door to my apartment.  I immediately dropped my purse, pulled my shirt over my head and pulled my pants down to my knees, using my feet to push them the rest of the way off of my legs.  I walked straight back to my bathroom and didn't even wait for the water to turn hot before I had slumped against the shower wall, letting the water flow over my skin which felt like it had a thick layer of grime on it.  Grime from being coughed and sneezed on.  Grime from being peed on.  Grime from Wilson's spit.  Grime from the cab.  It was like I could feel it coming off in layers as I dragged a bar of soap slowly over my skin.

I hadn't washed my hair because I liked to wash it in the mornings.  I threw it up in a messy bun on top of my head. The bun looked way better than whatever mess Shelley had created with her own hair, if I did say so myself.  I wiped the mascara off of where the steam from the shower had made it bleed down my cheeks.  Took my contacts out.  Threw on my glasses.  Put on some old, purple sweats I had.  Pulled on an old bralette.  I walked into the kitchen of my apartment and opened the cupboard.  Without giving it much thought, I snagged a bag of popcorn kernels, threw it into the microwave, and pressed the "six" button.  I knew it wouldn't take that long, but I would stop it when the popcorn had popped.  I stood, leaning my bare stomach against the cold, fake granite of the counter and stared blankly into the microwave.  A ring from my phone snapped me out of my trance.

"Hello?" I answered.

There was no reply.  

"Dad, are you there?"

I began to walk around my apartment, searching for a clear signal.  I could hear bits and pieces of something my father was trying to say - probably just checking in on me - but I couldn't get a full sentence from him.

The call ended.  I was standing by the window at the front of my apartment.  I typed out a quick text to my father:

Couldn't hear you.  We can try again tomorrow.  I've had a long first day.  Love you - L.

As I sent that text, I scrolled through some of the other text messages I'd been receiving from old friends for my birthday - Impersonal and brief "Happy Birthday!" messages that didn't bring me as much joy as they did in the past.  Getting caught up in the messages, I didn't realize that my popcorn had begun to burn. The smell filled the apartment, and I scurried to tear the smoking bag out of the microwave.  Smoke began to cloud the ceiling.  I burned my finger on the top of the bag where the smoke was coming out and dropped the bag to the floor.  Swearing, I hurried to the window and threw it open to prevent the single smoke detector in my apartment from releasing a shrill alarm and disrupting the peace of my new neighbors.

As I stood at the window, I rubbed my eyes with my uninjured fingers.  I examined the part of my finger that stung from the burned bag of kernels.

"Alright?"

I nearly leapt out of my skin.  I thought for a moment someone was standing in my apartment, but I finally realized that Harry was standing just outside the window.  I hardly noticed him since it was so dark outside and he was still dressed in all sorts of dark colors.  

"Fucks sake-" I exclaimed.  "I- I- I'm okay.  I'm fine.  You scared the hell out of me-"

"I'm sorry," Harry laughed, coming a little bit closer to the window.  The light from my kitchen illuminated his handsome face.  It also allowed me to see that he was holding some sort of green gardening can.  "I was just putting a little bit of plant food in Miss Jones' plants.  I do it every week or so.  Helps 'em stay alive," he explained.  

"At night?" I asked.

"What?"

"At night?  You feed the plants at this time of night?" I repeated, raising my wrist to look at a watch I realized wasn't there only after I'd checked the imaginary time.  

Harry laughed awkwardly.  "Eh, well, yes.  She doesn't know I do it.  At least, I don't think she does."

I stood and stared at him, becoming more consciously aware of my appearance and clothing (or lack thereof) and the fact that he'd probably been peeking in the window the whole time I'd burned my snack and been chasing some kind of cellular service.  For as much as I wanted to be creeped out, my stomach was fluttering.  He wasn't creeping in my window.  He was feeding Miss Jones' plants.  Her goddamn plants.

I walked out the front door and stood to the right side of my porch, leaning over the banister toward Harry's silhouette.  He watched me only for a short moment before he returned to shaking some of the small pellets of plant food into the vases on the ground and the plants hanging from Miss Jones' porch.  I wanted to ask him something.  Tell him something.  Have him ask me a question or anything to get us involved.  However, I stood for a few minutes in silence, in the dim lighting from my kitchen and the small light in the middle of the quad, and listened to the plant food pellets tap against the sides of the plants' bowls and vases.

When he'd run out of plant food, Harry sighed softly.  "Good night, then."

His feet brushed weightlessly against the grass as he began to walk away.

"Harry," I called quietly, almost as if I was whispering it to myself.

He stopped.  I saw the black shape of his body turn toward me, his figure becoming more visual as he stepped closer into the small amount of light from the kitchen again.  He stood and waited without saying anything.

I had a sudden wave of confidence wash over my body.  I stood up straight, sticking out my chest even though I know he couldn't really see my perky breasts in my bralette.  I took a deep breath, but just as quickly as the confidence had come, it went away. "Um-" I started.  My inner self was begging me to say something.  Anything.  

"Come inside?" I said.  I asked.  I whispered.  I basically breathed it.  I wondered if he even heard me.  I felt like an absolute dumbass.  Should I repeat myself?  What if he said no?  It was late.  Surely he would say no.  What was I inviting him in for?  Burnt popcorn?  I didn't know what part of me was asking him into my apartment, but could only imagine it wasn't for a cup of tea and small talk.  What did I think was going to happen?  He was going to just lean in and kiss me and-

"Sure."

"What?" I asked.

"I'll come in.  Let me take a look at your finger," he said.

Like that morning, I had to keep my mouth from falling open.  I turned around abruptly and opened my front door for him.  He followed me inside.  He moved so quickly and so silently that I just about jumped out of my skin again when I turned around and he was standing only eight inches from me.  He gripped my hand and extended my fingers, like he had the day I was moving in.  This time, however, I let him look, even though there was nothing there anymore.  No evidence of any serious damage.

"I think you'll survive," he told me after evaluating the non-existent injury.  "Your heart line here is showing some pretty interesting stuff, though," he said, dragging a long finger along one of the creases in the palm of my hand.  

"What?" I asked, kind of laughing to myself.  I'd never much believed in palm-reading or horoscopes or anything like that, but it was always interesting to read about and learn about. "What does it say?" I asked him, looking down at my own palm.

"It's about your love life," he said.  "Did you have a good date tonight?"

"No," I gushed, looking up into Harry's eyes.  I laughed just thinking about it.  "It was a disaster.  Does the palm say I'm destined for a long, devoted, and romantic relationship with Wilson?  After tonight, I'd rather die before having to spend more time with him."

Harry's mouth curled into a small, almost triumphant smile, but he shook his head.  "It says something about a tall brunette kissing you.  Unless you object."

My heart pounded in my chest.  "Oh?" I squeaked, nearly losing the ability to speak.  "My palm is that specific?" I asked.

Harry took a step toward me and began to lean in.  "I don't know," Harry chuckled.  "I can't read palms."

I lifted my mouth to meet his.  I began to instantly feel drowsy, like the room was spinning and I was going weak.  Harry wrapped an arm around my lower back and pulled my body more into his.  I felt like fireworks were exploding in my stomach.  His lips were warm and full.  I wanted to sink my teeth into them.  Without separating our lips, I began to pull him toward my bedroom, tugging at the hem of his black shirt as we went.  Clothes began to litter the living room.  I flicked off the lights as we neared the bedroom.  For as much as I wanted to look at Harry's handsome face, just the feeling of his mouth, which was making its way up and down my neck, was creating an overwhelming sense of euphoria in me.  

He was like a drug, his touch giving me an immediate high.  As he pulled his fingernails over my skin, a line of goosebumps followed.  His moans as he felt my body were giving me a confidence I didn't know I had.  I remember that he was on top of me, kissing down my stomach.  I was on top of him, sucking on the soft skin of his neck.  His hands were twisting into my hair and I was tugging on his.  We were twisting and turning around each other, around the sheets... tangling our lips, our legs, our arms... and before I knew it, the sun was coming up.  

I blinked my eyes open.  I stretched and turned my neck to look at Harry beside me... only he wasn't there.  The sheets were tousled like someone had been there, but any other evidence of Harry was gone.

[gxldentrio]

Hearts Don’t Break Around Here

Prompt: you’re trying to toilet train your 20 pound cat and you sent me this photo and now I can’t stop crying out of laughter in public.

A/N: Happy birthday to my favourite human @fetchalgernon - I love you. Thank you for making it impossible for me to write modern!jily and not include algernon. So here you go, 100% of fluff and shenanigans, with next to 0 plot. I hope you enjoy <3

Thank you @yourbcky for the stellar beta job x

Read on FFN or AO3.

It’s three in the afternoon on a Saturday when Lily drops a bag of frozen peas all over the floor of her local supermarket.

It really isn’t her fault, to be perfectly honest. Yes, she’s making a fool of herself, crying with laughter as she struggles to gather the peas that have spilled all over the floor. and the others down the aisle - from the old woman looking at the yorkshire puddings, all the way to the middle aged man studying a ratty shopping list - probably think she’s mental now, but it really isn’t her fault.

Picture this: you’re running errands, casually making your way through every different sodding aisle of the nearest Tesco Express because Sirius and co. are coming over for dinner, and the only things you have in your fridge are mustard and cheese crackers – and even though you know full well they wouldn’t mind, you actually feel like trying for a change.

Your phone buzzes with a message notification, and when you slide your finger over the screen, you’re met with a picture of Algernon, your boyfriend’s insane and alarmingly orange cat, sitting next to an empty litter box. Yes, empty, because all of the litter is strewn across the midnight blue carpet, and you can practically feel James’ despair simply by looking at his face.

If this was the case, you’d probably be cracking up like an idiot as well.

   [15:02] james: toilet training algernon is not… going as expected

[15:03] lily: I dropped my peas.

[15:03] james: ???

[15:04] james: tht was a typo right

[15:05] lily: I was getting food for tonight and the picture you sent me made me drop my bag of peas.

[15:06] lily: They rolled everywhere, James. I hope you’re peased with yourself.

[15:06] james: :(

[15:06] james: btw i cant believe YOU made a pun

[15:06] lily: I know, you’re a terrible influence

[15:06] lily: Also, you’re cleaning that up.

[15:07]: james: just like u cleaned up the peas right

   After that, he adds an emoji, the one with the cool pair of sunglasses, and if it wasn’t so damn endearing, it would probably make Lily want to set her hair on fire. Or maybe she’d set his on fire, he likes it so much, the prat.

Then, Lily does the worst thing she could probably do in this moment – she takes another glance at that damn photograph, and cracks a smile, one that quickly turns into loud and uncontrollable laughter. Especially when she notices Algernon’s satisfied face, almost smirking at her, except not really because he’s a cat.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” one of the store clerks asks her, tentatively placing one hand on her bicep and the other one on the nape of his neck.

“Y-yes!” she answers, struggling – and failing miserably – to contain her amusement. She can already picture tomorrow’s gossip magazine headlines: “SUPERMODEL LILY EVANS LOSES IT AT LOCAL TESCO.”

The thought of it only makes her laugh even more, even harder, and she can feel it tugging at her core. At this point, Lily is pretty sure there are tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Are you quite certain?” the employee asks, looking a tad frightened. He looks about seventeen, a whole six years younger than Lily. She guesses no one warned him about redheaded madwomen when he signed up for the job. Still, Lily mentally praises him for the courage it must have taken to even approach her in the first place. She doesn’t really look threatening, at least she doesn’t think so, but Lily can only imagine what passers-by must be thinking.

  [15:18] james: I can’t believe u left me on read

[15:18] james: what kind of betrayal is that

  Lily glances at the screen, grinning at her boyfriend’s absolute lunacy. but nonetheless places her phone back in her pocket, choosing instead to pick up some peppers. It’s a tedious task, analysing vegetables, and Lily soon grows bored of it. She hears the tell-tale ping of her phone, and rolls her eyes.

  [15:19] james: answer me woman

[15:20] lily: Jesus Christ, James. What is it?

[15:20] james: can u pick up some toiler paper

  Quirking up one of her eyebrows, she replies.

  [15:21] lily: We have 20 rolls already?

[15:21] james: see the thing is luv

[15:21] james: algernon really likes 2 play

[15:22] james: [Photo Attachment]

 “Oh my god,” she whispers, staring at her screen in disbelief. “I leave them alone for ten minutes,” she says, running one hand through her hair, effectively ruining the pretty ponytail situation she had going on.

Quickly, she one-handedly scrolls through the contacts on her phone and presses ‘call’, all while still holding the damn peppers.

“Remus?” she sighs. “Are you busy right now?”

“Not really, why?”

“Would you mind popping over to our place for a bit? Just to keep an eye on James?”

“Is he still trying to toilet train the cat?” but it comes out more like a statement instead of a question.

“Yep.”

She hears him swallow through the call.

“I’ll be there in ten.”

“Thank you, you’re a star.”

It takes Lily around thirty minutes to finish up her shopping and for her to reach her house. It takes her around twenty-nine minutes and twenty-seven seconds for her to get over whatever internal fit she was having.

Sure, James may act like an idiot seventy percent of the time, but he’s her James and she loves him. More than she can count on all her fingers, more than she can stretch her arms around her back.

Carefully hoisting up her way-too-many shopping bags, she rings the doorbell with her elbow, the usual smile on her face, because really, how could she not smile when this is what she’s coming home to? Her boyfriend, his ridiculous cat – and, in this case, Remus.

It’s James who answers the door, immediately asking, “are you mad at me?”. Lily is pleased to notice that there’s not a piece of kitty litter in sight.

“Nah, I think I’ll keep you around for a little longer,” she replies, successfully pressing her lips into a line as thin as the horizon. She’s not mad, she just likes watching him sweat a little. Then, because the poor sod looks like he’s about to choke, she adds “so as long as you keep providing me with entertainment, that is.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he says, and a smile stretches across both their lips, as James leans in to quickly peck Lily on the cheek. “Let me help,” James adds, taking some of the plastic bags from her hands.

“Where’s Remus?” Lily asks, removing her pair of aviator sunglasses from her incredibly tangled hair.

“On the couch,” replies James, and she can practically hear the smirk on his voice when he adds, “apparently BBC One is playing Bake-Off reruns.”

That makes Lily stop dead in her tracks. She turns around, back to him, and asks “are you shitting me?”

“Nope,” James answers, popping the ‘p’ and swinging back and forth. “Season five, too.”

Lily gives her boyfriend a toothy grin, and her eyes light up like a kid’s at a toy shop. After shouting a quick hello to Remus, she bolts straight to the kitchen. In the heat of the moment, she pulls out a chair, and mentally curses James for always storing things in the highest possible cupboard.

Unfortunately, her excitement for the bake-off is suddenly cut off when she slips on the recently-wiped countertop and falls on the floor. After letting out a string of colourful ‘fuck’s, she sees James enter through the door and the picture of her covered in cornflakes and sprinkles sends him over the edge, laughing like a complete madman.

“Couldn’t you just have asked for help?” he asks, grinning as he reaches for a Winnie-the-Pooh ceramic bowl. He hears Lily huff from the ground, and it makes him throw his head back as he laughs even more.

To be perfectly honest, she actually likes that he’s a giant compared to her. Even if it means he teases her every time she can’t reach the higher cupboards, because when they hug she can hear his heartbeat closer than she knew was possible. Still, it’s not like Lily could ever admit that.

Instead, she shoots him down with a playful, “do tell, how is the weather up there?”

Surprisingly enough, James decides to stop being a cocky arsehole and stretches out one hand to help her up. As soon as they’re done preparing all the snacks, she heads to the living room, obviously leaving James to carry the tea and cereal by himself.

Lily plops down on the sofa and snuggles closer to Remus. However, instead of her semi-healthy snack options, what she gets is the sound of the doorbell.

“I’ll get it!” James says, the sound of one sharp knock echoing all throughout the house – Sirius.

“I brought wine,” is the first thing he says, and upon hearing Peter’s clumsy footsteps, Algernon comes running from the kitchen and jumps into his lap.

There’s a shriek, followed by Sirius Black’s murderous voice, “get. that thing. away from me.”

Lily gets up to grab some glasses, and the five of them – plus Algernon, of course – curl up on the sofa, with cheese crackers and whatever alcohol Sirius decided to bring this time.

“This tastes like bleach, Padfoot,” complains James, and at the same time Sirius counters with a “it’s an ’83 Chateau Margaux, mate”, Lily says “oh shut up, you love it.”

James pulls her closer to him and murmurs “I love you” into her hair, while Remus makes a point to tell them how disgustingly nauseating’ the pair of them are, but they don’t care.

As long as they have this, they’re happy.

It doesn’t matter that the newspapers make up new rumours every five days, or that Peter is about thirty-seven percent in love with Mary Berry – or Sirius with Paul, for that matter.

Later that night, when their friends have left and it’s about two in the morning, the two of them lay in bed, James’ fingers threading through Lily’s damp hair, their noses touching, whispers of love floating back and forward.

James guesses it must hurt, to have your heart so full that it feels like it could burst at any moment. It’s been so long, and they’re so young, and so, so in love. It’s not like it makes any sense, but then again, things hardly ever do whenever he’s involved.

It’s intoxicating, how in love he is. Every single thing about her feels overwhelming, in the best way possible. From her blood red hair, to the vivid green of her eyes, or the freckles trailing down her shoulders, he’s in love, love, love.

His mind races back to the velvety box hidden somewhere between his socks, all black and from the same brand he’s been using since he was fifteen.

Soon.