#I’ve ignored my home duties this entire week just so I can try and catch up on work

[bbreaddog]

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[lauvra]

The cat stirs me with violent prodding to whichever closest limb of mine she comes by and graduates to my scalp until I get up and fill her bowl with biscuits. Admittedly at times I like to test how long this can last and how violent she’ll become in response to my non-reactivity. It’s less an enjoyment of torturing her than of being tortured by her. The melatonin makes it easier for me to rise in the just-darkness of early. I feel for the invisible cord of dependency, holding it in one hand so as not to trip over it as it leads me into the kitchen and pulls tight at the kettle pot. I spend hours watching the next gen L Word, while placing groceries into an order summary before exiting entirely. I can barely get anything done when I get too hungry. I try to convince myself to go out there myself, I even shower and dress but each time I open the screen door the sideways rain serves just enough apprehension to close it again. I order my favourite Thai food, tom yum soup, tom yum fried rice and pad thai - it’s become my custom to order as if I’m not the only one here, plating small portions of each dish together and drowning in the broth. With my energy bar mildly restored I spring back and forth from my lounge to my desk and finally open up my copy of Henry Rollins’ latest release ‘Sic’ and read until I’m too low to go on. It’s heavy. This is the most recent of fourteen of his books now in my possession and they’re all heavy, man. This copy is signed, maybe that’s why it’s heavier. I’m serious. Eventually I turn the television off and tie up my boots to go to the post office where two books I ordered weeks ago are waiting. Memoirs of a Dutiful Daughter by Simone De Beauvoir and A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again by DFW. After collecting them I am distinctly directionless but don’t want to go home when a young blonde haired man in a white T-shirt walks past me and I wonder whether he could kill me. I’ve been thinking like that a lot lately, listening to too many crime podcasts and considering what lurks beneath the surface of ordinary faces. I order my strong almond latte at Journeyman and consider verbalising my mundane observations but withhold, opting instead to experience my falsehood in private. I buy cigarettes, the tobacconist even less conversational than ever - whatever, predictably immune to my charm - does he think I’m a spy, whatever, stand at the lights on the intersection of High street and Chapel and wonder whether the two young men with ear piercings who just looked at me could kill me. Maybe they could together. I slow my pace to walk behind them, one hand holding both my coffee and the suspicion I’m growing bored with and the other a burning cigarette. I wander around bazaar purely out of habit considering the inconvenience that is having a body and whether I look like a shop-lifter. Sometimes I’m relieved by the need to relieve myself. When I’m making my bathroom trips I think; this may be the only true thing in the world. I pick up a 20KG weight set - a purchase made and ignored for weeks in my post-holiday season anaemia - from a sporting store, barely able to cart it so catch a lift home and eventually relieve myself. That act and the video of Marienne Bachmeier shooting her daughters rapist and killer, those may be the only true things in this world.

[elliesguitarstrings]

Could you please write an imagine where Peter always puts y/n second to Tony, ditching her all the time & she’s tired of it. One evening, they’re in his room & she’s unusually quiet so he asks her about it. She tells him what’s on her mind but he denies it, thinking they’re ok. As they continue to talk, Tony calls & he immediately answers. Y/n just sighs & silently slips out intending on going home. When Peter notices that she’s left, he finally realizes y/n’s concerns & manages to catch up to her & apologizes for how he’s treated her. Sorry if it’s too specific 💖

thank you for the request hun! this turned out a lot longer than i expected lmao

warnings: language, angst

~~~~~~~~

The past five months with Peter have been bittersweet. You love him, and he’s definitely expressed that he loves you, but sometimes it feels like you aren’t his number one priority. You understand that he has other duties, being a superhero and all and you’ve tried your best to respect that. But him being a superhero isn’t the problem exactly. It’s what comes with it. Aka Tony Stark.

Peter not only looks up to Tony as a father figure, he practically worships him like a god. He’s flaked out on dates, missed anniversaries, and constantly declined calls from you, all because of “Mr. Stark.” It’s always “Mr. Stark needs me to do this,” or “Mr. Stark told me to do that,” or “guess what Mr. Stark and I talked about today!” and frankly, it’s pushing you over the edge.

You don’t want to break up with Peter, you love him a lot. Plus, he’s already going through enough shit right now, a breakup is probably the last thing he needs. But you don’t know what else to do at this point. Why even bother trying to be in a relationship with him if he barely pays attention to you?

You’re in Peter’s room studying as you are every day after school, and he’s going on another one of his excited rants about the new tech Tony added to his Spiderman suit. Usually you would at least try to listen to what he’s saying and add a few comments, but today you don’t have the energy. So you just start on your homework while he rambles on. 

He finally notices that you aren’t paying attention and stops mid sentence. “Hey, you’re unusually quiet today, what’s up with you?”

You sigh, not really wanting to get in a fight with him right now. “Nothing Pete, I’m fine. Just a little tired that’s all.”

He closes the textbook you have sitting open on your lap and throws it off the bed. You shriek, “Hey, what the fuck was that for?” You didn’t mean to yell, but given your already exasperated mood, it came out a little more harsh than you intended.

Peter doesn’t seem phased though. “Come on, I know there’s something going on. Just tell me. You know you can tell me anything, right?” he pleads.

“Peter, I already told you. I’m fine.” you insist.

“I know that look Y/N, you’re not fine. So tell me what’s up.”

You know he won’t drop it until you tell him, so you decide to just let it out. “Fine, you want to know what’s up, I’ll tell you what’s up. For the entire time we’ve been dating it feels like I’m not your number one. But you know who is? Tony fucking Stark. I��m putting my full effort into this relationship, giving my full attention to you. And I assumed you would do the same for me, but whenever Tony Stark calls, you drop everything and do whatever he says. I get that he’s a mentor to you, and I get that you look up to him, but I’m your girlfriend Peter. You aren’t giving me even half the attention you give to Tony, and it really fucking hurts. And most of the time it feels like I’m just getting in the way of your superhero duties and shit and it would just be easier for you if we weren’t together.”

Peter stares at you, dumbfounded, as if he’s been completely oblivious to what he’s been doing the whole time. And to be honest, you wouldn’t be surprised if he has been. He scoots closer to you on the bed, taking his hands in yours. “I’m so sorry Y/N, I had no idea you felt that way. But I promise that you mean just as much, or more, to me than Mr. Stark. And you’re definitely not getting in the way, I love you so much, and I would hate it if we weren’t in a relationship.”

“You swear?” 

“I swear. I love you so fucking much Y/N.” he pauses, “How about I make it up to you by taking you on a date tonight? Does that sound good?” he smiles.

“Yeah, that sounds great. Let me just finish up this assignment and then we can go. But can we just go to like, Delmar’s or something not super fancy because I don’t feel like changing.” you laugh.

“Sure, whatever you want baby.”

You pick up your books, a little more relieved about the whole situation. At least he apologized and owned up to his mistake, so it was a start. You two continue to talk as you finish your work, Peter mindlessly scrolling through his phone and occasionally helping you with an equation if you need it. 

You finally finish the agonizing assignment, “Alright Peter, ready to go?”

“Yeah! Let me just grab-” his phone starts to ring. You look at the screen to see that of course, it’s the one and only Tony Stark. 

He picks up after the first ring. Not even bothering to ask if it was okay if he took the call quickly. This just makes everything worse. After the whole conversation you just had, after pouring your heart out to him about your feelings, he still doesn’t seem to give a shit.

You slump back down on the bed, waiting and waiting for Peter to finally get off the phone. You watch as his face lights up, talking to Tony about some new formula for his webs. His face never lights up like that when he’s talking to you.

By now it’s been at least thirty minutes of Peter rambling to Tony about stuff that you can’t even begin to understand. By the time he gets off the phone, Delmar’s will probably be closed and there won’t be any more reservations available at any other restaurants near you. You silently gather up your books and get up off the bed. Peter is facing away from you, repeatedly pacing back and forth around one side of his room, so he doesn’t notice when you quickly slip out the already open door. 

As soon as you leave his room, the tears start threatening to come out, and it isn’t until you finally slam his front door and start running down the stairs that they finally roll down your cheeks. As soon as you reach the landing of the stairs, you fall to the ground, violent sobs leaving you as you bury your face in your hands. You love this boy, you’re giving your entire heart and soul to him, while he’s on the phone with his fucking lord and savior Tony Stark, not even noticing that you’re gone.

You hear a door open and close on the floor above and you quickly try to compose yourself. The last thing someone wants to see is a teenage girl having  a breakdown in the stairwell of their apartment building. But you aren’t fast enough. You hear them coming down the steps and stopping behind you. You’re too embarrassed to open you eyes or show your face, so you say, “Sorry, just go around. I, um, fell down but I’m okay.”

You feel a hand touching your shoulder and you take your hands away from your face, opening your puffy eyes slightly to see the person standing next to you. And you’d recognize those old, warn sneakers anywhere. It’s Peter.

“You fell? Are you okay? Y/N I’m so sorry this is all my fault I’m such a jerk and I’m so stupid. I never should have picked up the phone and I realized it as soon as I answered the call but it seemed really important so I didn’t want to hang up but now you’re hurt and I feel so terrible-”

You cut him off, “Peter I’m fine. I didn’t fall. I was just crying.” you say bluntly, not meeting his gaze.

“Well I’m glad you’re not hurt but that still doesn’t make me feel much better. Because I know you’re crying because of me.”

“Yeah Peter, I am crying because of you. And I think you know why.” you sniffle, tears still streaming down your cheeks. “I really, really don’t want us to end Peter. But if you’re going to keep ignoring me and putting me second to Tony then I don’t know if I can keep doing this.” you cry, still keeping your gaze on the floor.

“Y/N no, please no.” Peter pleads. He cups your chin and brings your face up to meet his. “Look at me Y/N, because I need you to hear this. I’m in love with you, and I know like lately it probably doesn’t seem like it, and that’s all my fault. I feel terrible, but I’m just so scared that I’m gonna disappoint Mr. Stark. He already took my suit away once, and I can’t afford to lose it again.” He sighs, noticing he’s getting off track. “But I can’t afford to lose you either. You’re so fucking important to me, and I need you. I need you more than that suit, more than Mr. Stark, fuck, I need you more than anything in the world. I know that I’ve been a dick and I haven’t proved that I love you as much as I do. And you have every right to break up with me, so I won’t stop you if you do.” His thumb strokes your cheek, wiping your tears away. “But I just needed you to know that. I needed you to know how much you mean to me. How much I love you.”

“I’m not gonna break up with you Peter,” you say softly. He sighs in relief, but you continue. “But that doesn’t mean you’re forgiven either. I love you so much, and I know you love me, but from now on you need to put in more effort into this relationship.”

“I will, I promise. Mr. Stark actually asked me if I could stop by the compound today, but I, um, I said no because I promised to take you out. And I told him not to call me for the rest of the week unless it’s an absolute emergency.”

You smile, “Thank you Peter. That’s definitely a start.”

He smiles and helps you stand up, you calming down a little more. “I think Delmar’s is still open if you still want to go.” he states.

“Honestly, I think I’d rather just stay in with you.” 

“That’s fine baby, whatever you want. And again, I’m really really sorry, I can’t say it enough how terrible I feel about all of this. I love you and I’m gonna make it up to you, I promise.” he takes your hand as you walk back up to his apartment.

“I know Pete, and I love you too, always remember that.”

[lydias--stiles]

love, between the shadow and the soul

chenford | drabble | post-canon | title: sonnet xvii - pablo neruda

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Look, Tim Bradford did not get attracted to rookies, okay? In all the years he had been a TO, none had grabbed his attention. Not when he and Isabelle were dating, or married, or when she disappeared into the night with a trail of illicit affairs and a shot of heartache for him. Dozens of young women had sat in that car beside him and never ever had he let their femininity distract him. He served his country. He fought wars overseas. He looked Death right in the eye every single day and never blinked.

But then came officer Lucy Chen. He instantly knew the type of cop she’d be the second she turned in her seat, meeting his gaze for the first time, and nervously smiled at him. Nerves were normal, he was aware, but the doe-eyed look and the hopeful grin sold her out. No mystery. Just another young cop that would either slip through the cracks by the exam by tanking their grade due to stress, or she’d become a desk duty cop — one that stayed far from danger, that handled life with a perpetual softer touch ‘cause of her shrink parents.

Nothing wrong with that, Bishop would chastise him. Every cop had its use, she’d add. Sure, that might be true, but Tim didn’t want to babysit an armed toddler waiting for it to cry and call for mom. With just a couple well-placed Tim-tests, she’d be out of his hair in no time and then he could cross his fingers for a better recruit in the following weeks.

Life had the ability to change in a snap though — their funny, yet stern reminder that the universe called the shots, not the gun in his holster, or the rulebook. He got shot. Officer Chen backed him up. Her stubborn, yet brazen, yet honest attitude reeled him in just enough to ignore her little quirks she always joyfully displayed in the shop. Whenever he didn’t nip her ramblings in the bud fast enough, she babbled on and on about her personal life, her personal issues and relationships, like they were best friends (They weren’t! Boots and him never befriended!), like their relationship was anything more than a transactional training period. They got each other’s six. That was it.

But fuck, man. She got under his skin, too.

Lucy wore this… really nice perfume. A lot of female officers had make-up and perfume on, allowed a small sliver of self-expression, and he and Lopez had spend countless hours in a shop together. He was used to it. But somehow, Lucy’s stuck in his nose and didn’t leave. He felt like a creep, thinking about the blend of cardamom and oranges and cherry blossoms mixing with her warm skin, uncontrollable while also wanted. He wanted to fantasise about that fucking perfume of hers, a realisation that took a long time to come to terms with.

That didn’t mean he liked her though — he quickly corrected himself the first time he caught the pattern of behaviour — all it meant was that Lucy had good taste in perfume. Case closed.

So why did he linger whenever her shimmery eyes flicked up at him, why did his breath catch in his throat when her voice dropped to that infuriating sincerity as she uttered words of appraisal? Why his heart go haywire when she recorded all those audio books for him; an out of line gesture and overzealous task for a boot, which would normally result in him laughing their face.

Tim never thought he’d get over Isabelle, nor did he ever believe he’d have his happily ever after with Rachel, but with Lucy he foolishly hoped for more. A more that came from such a stupid and deluded place, probably fostered through months of loneliness and the Pavlovian response to her perfume, but one he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop it. The man was always in control about everything, ran his own tests and went over every possible outcome every day, every hour — and yet he didn’t see her coming. Lucy Chen had been right under his nose and he hadn’t been prepared for the ground to disappear beneath his feet; something that should honestly get him fired. The callousness of his emotions while entertaining the idea of a relationship with his own boot sentenced him straight to P2 or desk duty, or whatever.

Lucy deserved someone better, anyway.

Someone that understood her love for sage and cleansing homes. Someone that liked veggie burgers, chai lattes, karaoke nights and social media lurking. Someone that wouldn’t hesitate for one second to open her door for a teenage girl in need of safety and a little bit of that Chen-love. Someone that wasn’t any of those firemen assholes, but wasn’t Tim either.

He never let his insecurities get the best of him, but after seeing her thrive as a P2 without him, handling undercover stints like a pro, conquering her trauma of being buried alive, it only showcased that she had more bravery in her index finger than some army members had in their entire body, all while staying innately kind. Of course Tim lost his mind over her. Of course he tried shaping officer Barnes to be more like Lucy — more sun and bite and charisma, less army BS. Of course, of course, of course. Even Rosalind, the person he hated most besides Caleb, had him figured out in seconds. He was obvious as hell.

Which was why he had to move stations. Away from the Mid-Wilshire Division and to another. He couldn’t be around her anymore and risk compromising missions or attacks. He didn’t tell Angela the details, though her knowing look said enough, and simply replied that she’d miss him and that she was sure the chief would happily reinstate him any time.

He should’ve known that information leaked through like a wildfire.

The morning of his resignment, uniform neatly folded in his locker, Lucy stopped him in the hallway with the most befuddled expression he’d ever seen.

“What?” he said.

“What the hell,” she exclaimed. “You’re leaving and I have to hear it from Angela? Why’re you…? You love this division. Is everything okay?”

Shouldering past her, he drawled over his shoulder: “Everything’s fine, officer Chen. I’d advise you to put on your uniform and get to roll call.”

“Don’t pull this crap with me,” she bit back, latching onto his arm before he was out of reach. His feet reflexively stopped in place, stupidly waiting on her to finish her train of thought. “Tim, you can tell me if something’s wrong. We’ve been through… way too much for you to act this cold with me.”

He scoffed, feigning mockery, and put his hands on his hips. “We? Chen, I was your TO. That’s it. Get it out of your head it was more.”

Lucy blinked, once, twice, a hurt expression crossing her features, followed by disbelief and a quiet contempt he had become awfully familiar with. Swallowing back the regret, he watched as she pursed her lips and took a step back. “Wow. Okay.”

“Don’t take it personally.”

“Hard not to, officer Bradford,” she muttered. Turning to the locker rooms, she added, “Talk to me when you’re ready to not be an asshole.”

That should’ve been his cue to let her go and resume his trek to sergeant Grey, but a whiff of her fragrance wafted in his face from her dancing curls and any sensical thought was knocked out his head. He wanted to embrace her and burrow his face in her hair, he wanted to hold her with intent, he wanted to kiss the scent off her skin. His feet followed her instead, both fully aware and totally impulsive at once. He chose the excuse of loving a good argument with her to then utter: “I’m not an asshole, Chen. I’m honest.”

“If you’re honest, you’d admit that we’ve been very close friends these past months,” she exhaled, refusing to look him in the eye. He supposed he deserved that. Stopping in front of her locker, she continued with, “Distorting your own reality to fit your macho narrative isn’t healthy. Also, this is the women’s locker room. Out. Now.”

Tim sputtered out a laugh and crossed his arms. “Macho narrative? Please.”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed, all air sucked out the room at the intensity of her stare, and Tim felt himself flailing, suddenly wondering why the hell he wanted to turn in his badge when the only place he could have moments with lucy was, well, here. Why was he giving up on this, how silly it might be?

With a resolute voice, she said, “Tim, why are you resigning?”

Nothing in his entire career prepared him for this. Tim Bradford had survived Iraq and Afghanistan, twelve years of the LAPD and counting, a deadly virus, hundreds of bullets taken by the vest and felt the power of death on the blue lips of Lucy in the quiet countryside. Fear got pushed aside. Pride pulled him forward, onwards. But right now, he had to take a leap of faith — the sole thing he never relied on, but Lucy did — and trust she’d be there after the fall.

(He wanted to be that amazing someone for her.)

“Because of you,” he whispered. His fight or flight told him to run for the first time in forever, but he kept his feet glued to the floor.

Her jaw fell slack in shock. “E-excuse me? Me?! I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Exactly,” he spit. “You… you’re…” Tim sighed. “You’re the best, Lucy.”

Faltering, her brows furrowed in utter confusion, a grain of her fury replaced with compassion. He wasn’t sure if that was warranted. All he was trying to do was get it off his chest, confess, before it escalated to insurmountable heights. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Uh…”

“You’re resigning, because I’m the best?” she tried to deduce. “No offense, any other day I’d be dancing right now, but this is just…” She gestured at him. “So weird.”

Tim let out a miserable sigh and ripped the band-aid off. Fuck it. “I’m trying to be honest about my feelings, Lucy.”

She froze. “What?”

“I like you. A lot.” Her wonderstruck expression didn’t make him feel better, so he quickly added: “Which is why I gotta decrease the risk of this exploding in our faces and go.”

“Whoa!” Lucy’s hand wrapped around his, eyes wide and searching, like any empirical data would be found within his green irises, otherwise known as fondness and unresolved tension with every quiet moment they had. “Is this… another test? Are you getting back at me for pranking you?”

He quirked a brow. “You’re a P2 now. Tests are over.”

“Right,” she quipped, catching herself. She let go of him and nervously tucked a lock behind her ear. “Yeah. Okay. And you’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. O-kay. Let me, uh…” the locker swung open “… wrap my head around this.”

“It’s a pretty easy thing to—”

“Tim.”

“Yeah, okay.” He backed off, hating how the control was out of his hands now, how he practically shoved his heart in her grip and her pretty fingers could crush it to dust if she wanted to. “I’ll let you do that.”

Walking out the locker room, he took a deep breath and straightened up his face. Alright. He royally screwed that over. If his army buddies knew, they’d all laugh in his face and tease him for the rest of his life. But at least he told her and got his answer, that a relationship was off the table but that they could save their friendship once he switched divisions and some distance mended his twisted, inside-out heart. Lucy had rocked his world and all she had to do was exist.

“Tim!”

“Wha— wow!”

Her body crashed into him the second he turned around to her beautiful voice, Lucy’s arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him down to her level ‘til all he experienced were her sweet eyes and breathless smile and a kiss. Lucy kissing him, slow and tentative, but it lit his heart aflame and urged him to hold onto her. Her perfume was all-encompassing, nose full of the fragrance and the soft slope of her neck and long, brown hair and fuck, he was kissing Lucy Chen. Except he didn’t care if the entire precinct idly watched by, or if she yanked him out the building on impulse, or anything — ‘cause he was kissing her and it was perfect. Her plump lips were better than he ever imagined.

Her hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, arms and then his hands, squeezing. His forehead pressed against hers, embarrassingly weak in the knees from that incredible kiss that he didn’t dare to stand up straight. Two silly grins broke loose on their faces. He had no clue what to do now, or not do, but he did know he wanted her. He wanted everything.

Lucy decided for him.

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

Tim smiled. “Okay.”

[ohheyitsokay]

to date a single father (1/2)

Pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie) x (f) reader 

Warnings: mentions of trauma, drugs, and violence. a little angst? mostly fluff

Wordcount: 2.8k (I haven’t even gotten to the scene that inspired this thought process, guys...)

Part 2/2!

Summary: Frankie has a little girl in kindergarten and you’re the prettiest school teacher he’s ever seen. Being a single dad makes navigating relationships hard, that’s all.

Notes: I don’t really want kids but his baby is a part of his character so I thought it would be interesting to explore. I didn’t know how to put this in the warnings but obviously this topic can be a loaded one for some people, please be kind to yourself. 

>>

You first met Frankie outside the elementary school where you worked. You taught older kids, and they got let out a few minutes earlier to get their little siblings and to spread out traffic.

Most parents were in their minivan’s, on their phones, honking, or chatting through open windows. The sun was shining, sinking into your skin, and the kids were trickling out of the school.

He caught your eye, because he was standing nearby, hovering nervously, looking a touch lost. And maybe in small part because his hair was curling out from under his hat in soft tufts and his eyes were warm and bright.

“Can I help you, sir?” You asked cautiously, eyes still dutifully scanning the pick up area, making sure the students were safe.

He looked startled, then sheepish.

“My daughter’s in kindergarten,” he said, taking off his baseball cap to rake his hair to the side before replacing it. “It’s her first day.”

Ah. That explains his mother hen mannerisms.

“She'll be out in just a moment,” you said smiling at him. You explained the staggered release and noted how the crease between his brows smoothed a little bit.

You got to see parents with their kids often, and you were no stranger to the occasional handsome dad, but when his little girl came running towards him, nothing could have prepared you. His face lit up and she jumped straight into his arms yelling happily. As he spun her around for some wild reason your heart threatened to hammer right out of your chest.

He put her down and she chattered about her first day. As they walked away, he waved at you, and you smiled weakly before tearing your eyes away.

The kindergarten teacher appeared at your side. Her arm casually shot out, causing a running kid to almost crash into it, but effectively stopping him from sprinting somewhere more dangerous. She gave him a look before turning to grin at you.

“What?” you asked, trying to play off your odd behavior the best you could. You definitely weren’t staring at the most handsome dad you’d ever seen being adorable with his daughter. And by no means had you been neglecting your supervising duties to do so. She raised an eyebrow and against your will, your face was flushed.

“I’ve never seen you like this!” she said gleefully, laughing at you.

“There’s nothing to see!” you flapped your hand at her, knowing you were lying through your teeth.

“Isn’t there?” she knew you a little better than would be best in this circumstance. “Hon, I’ve worked with you five years and I haven’t seen a single person - real or from your stories – make you so flustered.”

You shook your head and started to walk back towards the school, calling behind you, “I wasn’t!”

“Would it help to know he’s single?” she chirped after you.

And you hated yourself because you stopped dead, heart pounding, before you walked away just about as quickly as you could.

That night, Frankie hated himself a little bit too, because he couldn’t get the pretty school teacher out of his head.

-

Over the first few weeks of the fall semester, this because normal for the two of you. Frankie kept coming early, and so when your let your class out, you would go stand and talk to him, both falling in love a little bit, and you would then get teased mercilessly by the other teachers. He would go home and day dream about seeing you outside of school, holding your hand, meeting your eyes and not having to look away.

He told the boys about you and accepted their bad advice and excited teasing with stride. You also gave up trying to deny it from your closest friends and they had the best time playing matchmaker for you, even if it was horribly embarrassing.

Every couple of days, your friend would keep his daughter inside extra long to help clean up or something, so you’d have more time to talk. On top of that, the older teachers made of habit of floating by and announcing how pretty you looked or how talented you were, and mentioning you were single with broad winks.

“Our sweet girl is just such a good teacher!” one man said. “I’d love it if she would marry my son one day. If she runs a household like her classroom, I could die happy!”

You felt like you could melt into the concrete. Frankie was grinning, his eyes alight with laughter as they met yours. He tried to ignore the feelings bubbling inside of him at the thought.

The next day, an older woman was apparently feeling protective over you, approaching Frankie and him a hard stare down. He fidgeted, shooting you a panicked look before she began asking him questions rapid fire.

When she was satisfied and moved on you finally turned to him saying, “I’m so sorry about this, Mr. Morales,” and he shrugged.

“I don’t mind,” he turned away from you, eyes searching for his daughter, and you almost didn’t hear him add, “It’s worth it.”

Silently you agreed, but before you could say anything, you saw his little one incoming. Instead of her dotting father, she hugged your legs, catching you entirely off guard. Frankie made a choking sound, his heart having leapt into his throat at the sight of you with his kid. The sky was cloudy that day – but he was feeling warm inside.

You talked to her for a bit before she moved on to him and they walked off waving, leaving you standing there in confusion.

Her teacher, on cue, slid up to your side.

“She’s been talking about you in class recently.”

“What? Why?” you were panicking. Never in your life did you picture yourself hoping a tiny little girl liked you, but here you were.

Her smile was soft as she said, “She thinks you’re nice and likes very much that her daddy has a girlfriend that is pretty because she thinks that means she’s going to become a princess.”

This was overwhelming. “I’m not his girlfriend!” you wailed, “I don’t even know what I’m doing!”

She hugged you tight, and whispered that you would figure it out. She promised you were doing just fine, and despite your anxiety, you half believed her.

-

Weeks later, you still weren’t his girlfriend, but you and him were just about the only people who didn’t think so. You let out class as early as you could most days, and he was always there to greet you as soon as you stepped outside. Sometimes he would have an “extra" drink for you from a nearby coffee shop, and he always got your order right. (He did remember his daughter’s teacher's, and well as hot chocolate for the little matchmaker.) Once, it was raining and the two of your shared an umbrella.

Now, your school was getting a new vice principal, and there was a social evening planned for parents and students to come and meet him. You were jittery with nerves, the thought of seeing Frankie in a new setting putting you on edge. You’d even put on a prettier than average outfit as if it were a date, and your coworkers were beyond excited.

Streamers were hung, pitchers were filled with lemonade, and you settled in a seat along the edge, hoping beyond hope that Frankie would find you and everyone else would leave you alone.

You had no such luck. After the new vice principal had been introduced to the staff, he made his rounds, greeting everyone personally before stopping on you. You made polite small talk, but he didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in moving on, settling next to you.

He began leaning close, mentioning how many good things he’d heard about you and you realized he was flirting with you. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach. He wasn’t a bad guy, and maybe a few months ago you wouldn’t have minded so much, but now you just felt weird and uncomfortable. Politeness and politics were part of the job, but you scooted your chair away from his, unable to stop yourself.

When Frankie walked in with the other parents and students, his daughter pointed excitedly at you, tugging his hand. His eyes found you, but jealousy reared inside of him, along with a touch of hurt. There was a new man by your side, and he wasn’t being shy about his interest in you. Frankie didn’t know what do so he pulled his little one in the opposite direction, saying, “Snacks first, yeah?” knowing it would buy him some time.

He watched you out of the corner of his eye, thankful when other teachers seemed to approach the two of you to pull the man’s attention away. There was another roar of jealousy, though, as the man tapped the microphone and introduced himself. Looking at him on the small stage, in a suit and tie, Frankie felt scruffy.

He couldn’t be bothered to listen to him, his mind running. Would you prefer a guy like this? Successful and suave? Baggage free?

He followed his daughter, her attention short, as she ran to play with her friends. He hovered close to keep an eye on them, unable to shake the habit. Some other parents were talking to him, and he tried his best to be polite but he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the man, who was making his way back towards you.

It didn’t take long, however, for Frankie to see how uncomfortable you were, and a small, warm feeling bloomed in his chest in place of the jealousy. He kept the little one in his line of sight as he moved carefully through the crowds and behind the man. He caught your eye, and the warm feeling grew when your eyes widened and you visibly relaxed. Spurred on, he made a little symbol with his fingers over his chest - something Santi often did jokingly. It was an “S" shape, similar to the one Superman wore.

Do you need saving? he mouthed and you grinned, nodding slighting, so as not to betray him to your captor.

He didn’t need to hear more, butting into the conversation politely, but with determination. When the vice principal protested, Frankie confidently wrapped an arm around your shoulders and leveled his eyes at the other man. For all he was a sweetheart in a baseball cap, Francisco Morales could still gaze with the same intensity he had in the military.

The rest of your rescue went smoothly. He guided you back towards where the younger students were playing, and you were still grinning at him.

“Thanks you, Mr. Morales,” your heart was happy, you felt like you were flying. “You really are m- a hero.”

In that moment, Frankie knew he was a goner. To be your hero, and his daughter’s? That was maybe all he ever wanted.

“How can I repay you?” you asked, earnestly, the request and it’s potential making him weak in the knees.

He squeezed you gently.

“How about you call me Frankie?” he said, before taking a shaky breath. “And maybe consider going out to dinner with me tomorrow night?”

You froze, your heart beat filling your whole body. He went to pull his arm away, but your hand caught his on your shoulder, keeping it around you.

“I’d love to, Frankie,” you managed.

Frankie found himself in a similar state of speechlessness, happiness flowing off of him, unable to make his mouth stop smiling. He settled for squeezing you again, both of you glowing and too overwhelmed to notice the high fives and quiet cheers from the staff around you.

-

The next 24 hours, Frankie was a bundle of nerves and excitement. He had spent weeks adoring you, seeing how wonderful you were, sharing as much of himself as he could. Now that he finally had the opportunity to take you on a date, he was terrified of blowing it. Calling Santi was almost a waste of time, the other man was too excited and gave him advice that required flirting skills he knew he didn’t have. He wanted to put his best foot forward, after all. He even left his hat home, cursing himself because the little pink brush he tried to use only made his curls fluffier.

But when he picked you up, time slowed down.

The two of you climbing into his truck, making small talk before you said, “I’m sorry you had to get a sitter for tonight, by the way.”

And he was forced to pause, looking at you. Beautiful, in the passenger seat, somehow thinking of him and his life. His mind was running as fast as his heart, and he didn’t have the slightest clue what to do.

“Frankie? Is everything okay?” his eyes met yours, and they were so earnest you knew to wait.

Gently, you put your hand on the middle console, palm up, offering. His hand fit into yours immediately, clinging to it like a lifeline.

“I… I gotta be honest with you,” he said, in a way that made you sure each word was thought out. “I think you’re really something special. But… I’m really afraid of this. I’m afraid of how much I like you. I had this whole dinner planned … but I can’t. I have all this baggage and I like you too much. I’m not trying to scare you off but … but I guess now is better than later?” his mind vaguely realized he self sabotaged, but it was all true. He was in too deep.

You took a breath, waiting a moment to make sure it was your turn. You felt the cool upholstery, the evening sun, and a tremble in his hand.

“Frankie… I can’t promise you I’ll want to stay, once I know it. But I really like you too,” his eyes met yours and you ran your thumb over his knuckles. “Please, just give it chance? Give me a chance to make that choice? I promise I’m in this just as deep as you are and I’m not perfect either but maybe we can get burgers, and just… just talk? Figure it out together, now?”

He would have squeezed your hand but he realized he was already gripping it too tightly. You knew he agreed though, because his eyes told you, and the two of you drove off.

You ordered bunches of extra fries along with your meals, and he parked a bit outside of town, where the two of you could see the sun beginning to set.

And he told you all of it as the two of you ate. The breeze was warm, running its fingers through the fields as he talked. He hadn’t expected his secrets to pour out of him but once he started, it felt as though a dam had broken.

He told you about his missions, the Delta Force, his friends. The drugs, the rehab, the back slides. The other woman, his baby, the heart break. Even the trauma, the therapy, and being a single dad.

You listened and in turn, told him about your life. Your hardships, your secrets, as forthcoming and he was. You were honest about how scared you were at the prospect of becoming a mother figure for his daughter. About how unprepared you felt for those hurdles. And when you were done, the two of you sat in silence, looking at the rising stars. Eventually, you spoke again.

“Francisco Morales, I still really like you,” you smiled at him, shrugging a bit. “If you’re okay with it, I’d really like to try this thing, with you.”

There was nothing more wonderful than the hope in his eyes at that moment.

“Yes, please,” his voice was a bit raspy. He took a couple of slow breaths. “I have to get home soon but can I be honest with you for just a little bit longer?”

“Of course,” you said, confused.

He hopped out of the truck, jogging over to your side and helping you step down. The door closed behind you but he moved closer instead of backing up.

“I had all these plans to take this slow, do everything right,” his voice was soft, and he was gently pushing into your space, allowing you to stop him at any time. “You deserved it, and I wanted to show you I could do it. But,” his hands found your body, one of them tugging your hips into his and the other settling on the back of your neck, half in your hair. “But I’d really like to skip some steps,” his forehead was on yours, gaze steady, his voice deep and warm.

“Can we skip to the part where I can kiss you? The part where I can tell you how much you mean to me, and hold you?”

You aren’t sure if you managed to say yes before his mouth was pressing against yours, kissing you for all he was worth.

[my-unmanageable-mischief]

New Norm Part 2

Hello!!! I’m back with the highly requested part 2 of my New Norm series. I am defiently open to a part 3 as well if people continue to enjoy it. Not too too much ‘plot’ here, just getting back to school while trying to navigate a new relationship. Some tender moments, and some very cuddly Sirius. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it!!

Part 1

Sirius Black x Reader

The last few weeks of summer we’re the longest and most brutal weeks of your life, and for the first time you felt you understood Sirius and how he became the lighthearted boy he portrayed daily at Hogwarts. When dealing with trauma, and Merlin his mother was traumatizing, people adapted in different ways. Never have you seen such polar reactions as you saw with Sirius and the dutiful Regulus. 

Sirius spent the first week you were living at Black Manor picking fight after fight with his mother. Not that she didn’t start her own plethora of ‘disagreements’. You could tell Sirius got something significant out of disobeying her and making her angry, much to your demise; as the woman began taking it out on you as well. She would nitpick you worse than your own grandmother. Sit up straight, ladies shouldn’t speak out of turn (Not that she didn’t do plenty of speaking), and most recently, a wife should know how to cook. So you spent hours of your day locked up with the awful Kreacher in the kitchen. 

After a conversation one evening in hushed voices, curled up under the covers he had apologized to you.

“I’m sorry about my mother,” 

“Sirius, it isn’t your fault,” You assured, playing with a loose string of his duvet. 

“I don’t help it,” He admitted, staring up at the ceiling. Your hands paused and you turned your head to look at him sadly. 

“Maybe not, but I can’t blame you either. She’s a witch, and I mean that as an insult. Like the Snow White kind.” Sirius turned to you making a face.

“What’s a Snow White?” You chuckled, shaking your head. 

“Oh nevermind, just.. God I know it’s easier said than done, but, try and ignore her? We’ll be back at Hogwarts in no time, away from her. And then my mother said next summer we will have our own home.” Sirius gazed at you for a moment before turning away to look at the ceiling again. He didn’t answer, though you gave him room to do so. Finally you stopped your fiddling with the string and reached over, taking his hand in yours and squeezing. 

“We’ll be alright.” You promised him as well as yourself. You had to be, you had no choice. Sirius squeezed your hand back and didn’t let it go for the rest of the night. Eventually silence ebbed into static breathing and light snores, and when the sun peeked through the window, you were still in bed, fast sleep, hands clasped. Sirius woke up first that morning and laid there for a while longer as you slept. He remembered his vows, that he would protect you, and that included from his own mother. If that meant becoming complacent in her demands for these next few weeks- that was something he was willing to do. For you. 

Finally the morning of September 11th, 1978 came, it was a cool morning for the end of summer, but sunny. You and Sirius were dropped promptly at Kings Cross station, receiving lectures on behavior. Sirius and his father shared a few words in private that left him scowling for a good majority of the morning, even after you had found Potter, Pettigrew, and Lupin in one of the train compartments. 

They eyed you funnily the entire train ride, and you did your best to ignore the gazes. Sirius had told you that he had told them about his wedding, but it was different now in person. 

“So is she going to be hanging out with us now? All the time?” James eyed you skeptically and you raised your eyes from your novel to narrow them at the boy. 

“She has ears, and is capable of responding to you herself.” Sirius glanced at you, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. It was the closest you’d seen him to smiling since you boarded, and that fact was not lost on the other Marauders. 

“Are you going to be hanging around all the time now?” He asked, pouting slightly. James Potter could have received straight Os if being a git was a class at Hogwarts, but you knew he was also a sweet and caring boy, when he wasn’t being 17. You had a feeling he wasn’t keen on sharing his best mate, not that you blamed him. 

“James, she’s my wife now.” Sirius muttered, glancing out of the window. Potter made a face. 

“I know and it's weird.” You rolled your eyes, opening your book back up and slouching in your seat.

“And you think that is lost on us? We know it’s weird. We’re living it.” James looked ready to continue but Remus cleared his throat and gave him a warning look. A silent conversation you weren’t privy too took place between the two boys and James shrugged, going back to his Quidditch magazine. You finally reached the doors to the Great Hall hours later and Sirius turned to you.

“Sitting with us?” He asked, you looked past him to James and shook your head. 

“I think I’ve intruded on boy time quite enough for one day, I’m going to go find my dorm mates.” You admitted, James had the decency to look guiltily at his feet. 

“Alright, I’ll see you later.” You hadn’t kissed since you were pronounced man and wife, but you had taken to holding hands in rare private moments you had gotten together. He reached out to you, allowing his hand to awkwardly drop onto your shoulder. He squeezed before letting go and you offered him a smile before turning to go find your friends, you had missed them. 

That night was the first night you had not eaten together in a month, and it was weird for you. You glanced down the table a few times, making eye contact with Sirius. When your eyes would meet he’d smile at you reassuringly, and you always returned it. Meanwhile, your friends gushed about how lucky you were, married to the most gorgeous, the most wanted man at Hogwarts. You didn’t feel very lucky, nor did you think they could understand. So you smiled and nodded, and laughed, like things were how they always were. But they were not. They never would be. 

When you entered the common room that night Sirius and his crew were already sitting in their seats closest to the fire, Sirius waved you towards him, but you were in the middle of a (dull) conversation with your friends about whose bum had gotten the fittest over the summer, so you shrugged, going to sit with them. About half an hour later someone approached your group and you looked up surprised to see Sirius. 

“Y/N,” He greeted you, and you smiled. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Your friends around you tried to stifle their giggles and hid smiles behind hands, something Sirius was used to, but for some reason, in that moment it bothered him. Were they laughing at him? Had you been laughing at him? 

“Can we talk for a mo?” He asked, and for a moment he almost looked nervous, but mostly he looked slightly ticked off. You frowned. What had you done? 

“Of course,” You nodded, getting up from the armchair you had been longing in. You followed Sirius silently through the common room, aware of his friend’s eyes on you as you went. You reached the corridor and he walked you a little further before sitting in an alcove. You sat with him. 

“Are you angry with me?” He asked so suddenly it took a moment to process, your frown deepened. 

“Merlin, no, should I be?” You asked, turning to face him, with your hands rested in your lap. He shrugged and wouldn’t look at you. “Have I done something to upset you, Sirius?” You asked gently. He shook his head no before shrugging. 

“Why were your friends laughing at me? Why didn’t you sit with me?” He asked, and you sighed, taking his hand gently in yours, causing him to look at you. 

“Because they think you’re cute,” You smiled slightly, nudging him, “And they think it’s brilliant I’ve gotten to marry you when half of Hogwarts would die to get ten minutes in a broom closet with you.” He smirked slightly, which made you feel better. That was the Sirius you knew. “And I didn’t sit with you because.. Because I am trying to give you space. This is new and scary. For both of us I’m sure. I don’t want you to feel like I’m smothering you, and I can tell James isn’t too keen on me, I don’t want him thinking I’m stealing his best mate.” 

“But were different. I’m not married to James.” You laughed at that,

“I wouldn’t tell him that.” You joked and Sirius let out a small chuckle himself. 

“You’re not smothering me. I... I enjoy you being around. I would like you to know my friends, they’re my real family after all.” You squeezed his hand again and he lifted your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. 

“I’ll sit with you lot more often then, just tell James to go easy on me. And don’t think I will be helping with any of your tomfoolery,” You chided jokingly, “My mother will have a cow,” 

“Well good thing I’m your husband, I’m in charge of you now,” He grinned and you used your free hand to whack him. 

“In charge of me?” You laughed, “Watch yourself, Black.” 

“Oh Black huh? Well you’re Mrs. Black.” You froze at that, and something truly haunting dawned on you. Tomorrow classes started. You were no longer Ms. Y/L/N... would your teachers be calling you Ms. Black? If the whole school didn’t already know by now, they certainly would tomorrow. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asked, resting your entwined hands in his lap. 

“I’m Mrs. Black,” You repeated, he nodded, not catching on. “Everyone will call me such.” 

“Does that upset you?” You shook your head. 

“No no, not upset. I mean, everything is just different now? Even my name.” 

“I don’t really fancy it either, don’t worry,” He joked, but you knew he was serious. “We can change it.”

“Sorry?” 

“When you graduate, when we move and have jobs we can change it- to whatever you’d like.” 

“I’m not sure your mother will allow that.” Sirius shook his head defiantly. 

“Once I, well now you I suppose, graduate, I have no intention of doing anything that old bat has to say.” He puffed his chest out slightly, putting on an air of confidence. Your head swum slightly. If that were the case, wouldn’t you simply divorce? “Y/N,” He continued, voice lower and more gentle. 

“Hm?” 

“It’s going to be weird sleeping alone tonight,” He admitted sheepishly, glancing at your hands, “I’ve gotten quite used to you, I admit.” You smiled at that, leaning against him. 

“I won’t miss the snoring,” 

“Oi, I don’t snore!” He laughed and you grinned nodding your head. 

“You do, love. But I will miss it too,” 

“Come visit?” He asked wiggling his eyebrows at you again, you whacked him once more. 

“No I think I’ll let you suffer, just for that.” 

“Evil.” 

“That’s me,” Sirius stood up, bringing you with him before releasing the hand he was holding to put his arm around your shoulder. 

“Come sit with us?” He questioned, “I promise James will be good.” You nodded, leaning into the boy's touch. 

“Alright, you’ve convinced me.” You spent the rest of your night at Sirius’s side.

 James was civil but you could tell he still wasn’t fond of you or your newly added presence. From that moment forward you spent nearly all your time out of class with the group of boys. You found a friendship in Remus, he was a kind boy, with similar interests. You enjoyed studying together while the others mucked around, and you talked about literature together. Even James was coming around on you, though you two still bickered constantly. Sirius once called it “Sibling rivalry.” which made you laugh. But you could tell how fiercely James cared for Sirius, it made your heart feel warm, knowing he had people to look out for him. Even Peter wasn’t bad to be around, he was funny when he wasn’t being vulgar, though he loved making jokes about the fact that Sirius was now a married man and ‘on a leash,’. 

You didn’t feel like Sirius was on a leash, and certainly not your leash. You were married by your parents' request, not dating. If he wanted to go snog some slag he was more then welcome to. At least that was the lie you told yourself. Girls continued to throw themselves at Sirius, I guess a wedding ring didn’t mean much to them, and you were increasingly more surprised every time he politely turned them down. You began to relax more, maybe he wouldn’t? 

One evening you all sat in the boys dormitory. Peter was practicing chess, Remus was reading and taking notes. James was laying on his back at the foot of Sirius’s bed, you were sitting back against the boy’s pillows, as he was resting his head in your lap. Sirius and James were debating the validity of some prank they wanted to pull- whether they could pull it off or something like that. You weren’t paying attention, you were reading, occasionally running your fingers through the hair of the boy who was in your lap. 

“You’re making me sleepy,” He suddenly yawned, turning away from James and burying his face into your jumper. You smiled, not looking up from your reading. 

“So go to sleep,” 

“Get a room, you two.” James complained, whining from the bottom of the bed. 

“We’re in a room, you’re the one in my bed mate.” Sirius laughed, wrapping his arm around your middle and cuddling into you. As time past Sirius became more and more physically affectionate with you. Not that you minded, it was comforting having someone around whom you could simply touch. James huffed, dramatically getting off the bed, pulling the curtains shut with a great flourish. 

“Use a silencing charm for our sake!” He called.

“Piss off mate,” Sirius laughed and you chuckled slightly rolling your eyes. 

“He’s just jealous you don’t cuddle him like you used to.” James made an indignant noise from the other side of the curtain and you heard him stalk away to his own bed. You carded your fingers through Sirius’s hair for a few more moments before letting out a yawn of your own. 

“I should go to bed,” You murmured, hand stilling. Sirius let out a small whine and you smirked, gently tugging on one of his locks. 

“So go to bed,” He joked, mirroring your earlier words. You started to move and Sirius’s arms around you tightened, pulling you to him. “Here,” He asked and you sighed, patting his head. 

“And if we’re caught?” You questioned. 

“Live a little, love. Girls are always sneaking into the boys dorm for sleepovers, at least we’re married.” 

“I doubt McGonagall will care for that small difference.”

“Please?” Sirius asked, looking up at you through his lashes, batting them at you sweetly. You sighed, shaking your head. 

“Fine, you’re a bad influence one me, you know that?”

“That’s the kindest thing a woman has ever said to me,” He grinned, peeling himself from you to sit up, “I’ll get you something to sleep in.” You hummed softly. Sirius disappeared for a moment and came back with a t-shirt for you, handing it over. You watched from your position on his bed as he undressed himself, you felt your cheeks going rosy. Once Sirius was down to his boxers he crawled back into bed beside you, nudging you. “Get changed, I wanna cuddle,” He murmured to you and your blush deepened. You stood up, standing beside the bed and facing away from Sirius as you removed your jumper, pulling the shirt on over your head. It was plenty long on you. Next you removed your skirt, leaving your clothes in a pile beside his head. You turned back around and Sirius was watching you, his own small blush. “C’mere.” He offered you his hand and you took it, allowing him to pull you down to him. 

You situated the covers around you both before allowing the boy to snuggle up to your side, his head on your chest. You resumed your earlier activity of running your hands through his hair. 

“Thank you for staying,” He murmured and you smiled, dropping a kiss onto the top of his head before you could think about the action. 

“Of course.” 

“You’re welcome in my bed, anytime.” He promised and you rolled your eyes, gently tugging his hair again. 

“Don’t ruin the moment, arse.” He chuckled, tangling your legs together beneath the duvet. Sirius fell asleep to the sound of your heart beating firmly in your chest, it was the best lullaby he had ever heard. You played with his hair until his quiet snoring started before simply resting your hand on his head. It took you longer to fall asleep but you eventually did, enjoying the company of the other- you hadn’t realized how much you missed just sleeping with the boy. And this new found cuddling between the two of you really added to the whole experience. 

In the morning you were rudely awoken by James, who threw the curtain of your bed open with a scowl. 

“Are you wearing clothes?” He questioned, “I was kidding when I said to use a silencing charm, I don’t want you two shagging when I’m five feet away-”

“Mate,” Sirius groaned, rolling over, glaring at the boy, “Shut up,” James huffed, crossing his arm. 

“Y/N better get back to her dorm before all her roommates wake up and wonder where she’s been all night.” You groaned, stretching your arms over your head. 

“Thanks Jamie,”

“Don’t call me that!” He whined, shuffling away, you laughed as you untangled yourself from Sirius’s limbs, standing up. 

“Do you have to go?” He asked, frowning.

“I will see you at breakfast,” You rolled your eyes, grabbing your discarded clothes from the floor. Sirius frowned, flopping back onto the bed, crossing his arms. It made you laugh, god how he and James had grown to be alike over the years. Or maybe they found each other because they were already so alike.

 “Do you want to go on a date?” Sirius asked you one morning during breakfast, your mouth full of food. You raised an eyebrow at him as you swallowed. 

“Hm?”

“A date, Y/N.” Like that clarified anything. 

“Is there a Hogsmeade weekend coming up?” You questioned him and he grinned, shaking his head no. 

“So what, you want to go on a date in the common room?” You laughed, shaking your head at the boy, “Don’t we do that every night?” 

“Not the common room, I want to show you something.” You eyed him suspiciously and he flushed slightly laughing, “Not that, who's got a dirty mind now?”

“Still you mate,” Remus interrupted and Sirius shot him a glare, but he quickly recovered, grinning at you again. You weren’t sure you liked that look. 

“Sure,” 

“Brilliant, be ready tonight at 8pm, in the common room.” You nodded your head, continuing to eat. Whatever he was up to, you were sure you’d be finding out soon enough.  That night you got dressed, listening to advice from all your dorm mates.

“Wear a dress!”

“Let me do your makeup please!”

“No no wear the blue skirt with the cream jumper.”

“Do you think you’ll snog?” You shrugged helplessly, ignoring all of their advice and going with your favorite pair of jeans instead and a black and white striped jumper. 

“I hardly know.”

“I think it’s weird. You’re married but you don’t snog.” 

“They cuddle, that’s for sure.” You flushed slightly, rolling your eyes.

“We sorta skipped a bunch of steps. It’s hard. Our relationship is unique.” You tried to explain to them. You and Sirius didn’t have some play book you could look to to figure what you should be doing and when. You were all on your own in this, on your own; together.  You allowed your friend to apply a small amount of makeup to you, no more than you would wear any other day. You didn’t want to seem like you were trying too hard- because you weren’t. You shouldn’t be. It’s not like you had to woo him or anything. Right?

You went down to the common room at 8 where Sirius was sitting with the boys waiting for you. 

“Y/N!” He called excitedly, jumping up from the sofa, “You ready to go?” He asked and you nodded, coming to him and accepting his outstretched hand. 

“Be good!” Remus called jokingly, waving from his spot in one of the armchairs. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” James added and Sirius threw them the finger over his shoulder before leading you from the common room. 

“So,” You started, skipping slightly beside him, grinning up at the boy, “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise, you’ll see.” You followed Sirius up to the 7th floor corridor and were met with an expanse of blank wall, you eyes him suspiciously. 

“Very nice, Sirius.” You put the hand not holding his on your hip. 

“Just watch!” He assured you excitedly, “Me and James found this place 5th year when we were running from Filch. Suddenly it was there,” You listened intently, still staring at the blank wall. Maybe you were missing something? “So we did some experiments, and I think we figured it out. Remus read about it in a book we nicked from the restricted section. Apparently it’s called the Room of Requirements, or the Come and Go Room.” You looked away from the wall up at Sirius, blinking at him. He smiled down at you, nodding towards the wall, when you looked back there was a door and you gasped. 

“How?”

“No idea,” He shrugged, “But it turns into whatever you need it to.” You looked at the door in awe. 

“Really?” You asked, shocked. 

“Yup, come on,” He tugged you forward, opening the door and ushering you in. Once you were inside you were met with a small room that closely resembled the Gryffindor common room, but maybe only one forth of the size. It had a sofa in front of a large roaring fire, there were candles lighting the rest of the room, and a few fluffy blankets sitting on the sofa. 

“This is lovely,” You breathed. He pulled you towards the sofa and you allowed him to guide you. He sat down and pulling you down beside him. You sat close to him and he placed his arm around your shoulder. You pulled one of the blankets off the back of the sofa and wrapped it around both of you, leaning into him. 

“Thank you,” He smiled, glad you liked it. It had taken him ages of brainstorming to decide what you both needed, for your first proper date. And in the end, he decided, simpler was probably better. You weren’t really one for grand gestures. 

“How are your classes,” He asked, playing with a lock of your hair, looking at you. You were warm from the fire, but your chest felt even warmer, something fire couldn’t cause. You shrugged, leaning slightly into his touch. 

“Alright, not as hard as your stuff I’m sure, but everyone’s making sure we’re preparing for the NEWTs already. It does my head in.”

“I’ve never asked you what you want to be when you graduate,” He tilted his head thoughtfully and you smiled slightly looking down. 

“I’d like to be a curse-breaker,” You admitted, Sirius nudged you until you looked at him. 

“That’s brilliant, you’ll do wonderfully.” You shrugged, flushing slightly at the complement.

“Maybe. I’m struggling with charms this year though.” 

“Is Remus helping you?” 

“Yes but still,” 

“You’re brilliant, Y/N.” He assured you, resting his forehead against yours. You smiled, leaning forward slightly to nuzzle your nose against his. “You can do anything you want to do, believe that.”

“I will try. What will you do? After you graduate.” Sirius hummed softly, and you cuddled even closer to him, practically sitting in the boys lap. 

“I want to be an Auror.” He spoke softly, “I want to save people, protect them. War is coming, Y/N. I want to make sure I am on the right side of history.” You took his free hand in yours and held it tightly. 

“That’s sweet, you’ll make a brilliant Auror.” Sirius smiled.

“James heard his parents talking about some... organization, they call themselves the Order of the Phoenix. I want to join as soon as I’ve graduated. Their goal is to be prepared for when Voldemort finally makes his move.” You nodded, trying to swallow down the worry you felt rising in your chest. You didn’t like the idea of Sirius out there battling dark powerful wizards without you there by his side. 

“Good,” You squeezed his hand tightly, “That’s good. You’re a good man.” 

“My mother will disown us, she supports those pure-blood ideologies.” He spat the words out and you flinched slightly. You didn’t want to think about what your own family thought of those horrible people. Especially not your father or your grandmother. 

“We’ll be alright.” You assured him. Sirius looked at you for a long moment and you smiled softly at him, nudging your nose against his again, “Alright?” 

“Alright.” He assured, “Y/N...” He started before trailing off. 

“Hm?”

“May I kiss you?”

“Of course,” You whispered, blushing slightly. Sirius smiled before leaning in, he didn’t have to go far before his lips were on your lips. He kissed you softly, his hand that was playing with your hair stilled, resting on the back of your neck to keep you close. You kept one hand in his and moved the other one to his chest, placing it over his heart. He broke the kiss and pulled back just far enough to look at you before his lips were on yours again, this time with more eagerness. He kissed you, lips smashed up against yours and you kissed back, moving your hand from his chest to wrap around him, pulling him closer. He parted his lips slightly, testing the water. You allowed your own lips to open as well, inviting him in. Sirius kissed you with emotion you were surprised were capable of being put into a simple kiss. Everyday Sirius surprised you more and more, and everyday you found yourself falling more and more in love with your husband. It might not have been traditional, or even preferred. But it was working, you were going to make it work. 

You spent the rest of the night alternating between speaking to each other in soft voices and snogging. It was the best, and last first date you had ever been on. Sirius was becoming you safe haven in a confusing world. He was becoming your new norm.

Tag list :  thebrigheststarinthesky ,  all-art-is-quite-useless ,  lindatreb ,  paosesposts 

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in a part three! 

[tennessoui]

omgggg yes number 45 gimme some number 45 obikin PLEASE

ok,,,,,,this is no. 1 Soulmates + no.45 in love with best friend's partner but it kinda got away from me so it's almost 2k and also like there's world-building im awful at snippets. This is obikin but also mentions of qui-gon/anakin BUT it's a fake relationship. it's not in the story, but the premise obi-wan doesn't know is that anakin needed coruscanti citizenship to get their healthcare for his mom, and qui-gon decides to help him out by marrying him to give him automatic citizenship i uh might continue this if people like it because it was fun to write whoops

“We met at the spaceport three days ago,” Anakin says with a demure little smile, curling further into Qui-Gon’s outstretched arm. The soft lamplight glints off the golden band Anakin’s wearing on his finger. Obi-Wan has had a hard time looking anywhere else since arriving in his old master’s quarters, has had a hard time thinking of anything else except that he’d always imagined Anakin wearing a more bronzed shade of gold.

It had been a shock to hear that while Obi-Wan had been out on a mission, Qui-Gon had returned to Coruscant with a husband in tow. Yes, alright, short courtships aren’t rare anywhere in the galaxy, especially between soulmates.

But Obi-Wan knows intimately well--better than anyone else in this room--that Anakin and Qui-Gon aren’t, in fact, soulmates.

Mace seems to be thinking the same thing because he states, with a slight question in his voice, “I was under the impression that your soulmate had passed into the Force, Qui-Gon.”

“We’re not soulmates,” Qui-Gon corrects placidly, arm moving away from Anakin’s shoulders--Obi-Wan can breathe again--so he can fiddle with the cuff around his wrist, which hides the faded name of his mate. “But now that the Jedi Order has lifted its marriage ban for non-Soulmate couples, I thought, why spend the rest of my life alone?”

Anakin catches Qui-Gon’s hand and places a kiss on the back of his fingers. Obi-Wan is going to scream.

When Anakin looks up to the assembled Jedi watching, he doesn’t look at Obi-Wan once. It’s the worst thing in the galaxy, the fact that other than very briefly an hour ago, Anakin hasn’t looked at him at all. It’s been five years. “And I’ve met my soulmate, but they…decided they didn’t want to stay with me, that they didn’t want me.”

Obi-Wan inhales sharply at this and forgets to bite his tongue. “Maybe your soulmate had other obligations that they had to fulfill,” Obi-Wan bites out.

He’d thought Anakin ignoring him had been awful, but that’s nothing compared to the pain of having him look at him with eyes as cold as Hoth. “I think I’d know more about my soulmate than you would, master Jedi. Ah, I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

Obi-Wan almost tells him to check his wrist if he needs a reminder about Obi-Wan’s name, but the words get stuck in his throat.

It’s probably for the best.

Obi-Wan’s spent five years and the duration of a war hiding the name of his soulmate from the Jedi Order, and he can’t say it now. His other half has made it quite clear that he can’t say it now.

“Excuse me,” Obi-Wan says, standing suddenly. He knows he should stay, should sit through the rest of the intake interview the Council gives to all non-Jedi sentients that marry a Jedi, soulmates or no, but he can’t. He’s the youngest person to sit on the Council in written history, he’s survived a war, trained the stubbornest Padawan of her generation, and this--this--looking across the table at Anakin Skywalker, dolled up and petty and full of hatred for him as he wears another man’s ring, Obi-Wan’s former master’s ring--this is going to be the thing that kills him.

Luckily, no one tries to stop him as he leaves. Maybe they think he’s just reacting to the fact that his fifty-eight year old master came home with a twenty-five year old husband. Maybe everything he’s feeling is written out on his face. Maybe he should never have tried to hide Anakin away. Maybe he should have called for extraction from his deep cover mission as soon as their hands had touched and their soulmarks had appeared. Maybe these past seven years should never have happened.

Force knows Obi-Wan would sleep easier if he had never walked into that Tatooine bar. If he had never met Anakin Skywalker.

He tries to meditate in his favorite spot in the Room of A Thousand Fountains, but it’s an impossible task. Mostly, he sits in a classic lotus position and broods.

A few hours later, when Obi-Wan thinks he’s recovered some of his composure, the person who’s always been able to ruin it sits himself down in front of him with a lot of unnecessary noise.

“When you talked about this place, I thought it sounded like the biggest waste of water in the entire galaxy,” Anakin’s voice sounds...normal. Like they’re picking up the thread of a conversation they had just dropped a moment ago, as if five years and a wedding and a war don’t stretch between them.

But if Anakin wants to talk to Obi-Wan like they had before, he’ll try his hardest to meet him there. Slowly, he opens his eyes. Anakin’s lounging back, still wearing the ceremonial robes of a Jedi’s bride, the loose blue silk barely hanging onto one of his shoulders. Obi-Wan wants to close his eyes again, immediately. “The greenery wouldn’t be able to survive without the water.”

Anakin nods, looking around as if slightly disinterested by it all. When he’d been eighteen, he’d soaked up every story Obi-Wan could tell him about the Temple, about the Jedi. Those piercing blue eyes find him again. It’s as if he knows Obi-Wan’s thoughts, because he smiles in the most humorless way. “I used to think I’d live here, and then I could see for myself if the beauty was worth the excess.”

“And?” Obi-Wan asks. It’s all he can get out of his throat. It’s very clear what Anakin isn’t saying. That he used to think he’d live here with Obi-Wan. That they'd be--that they'd be.

“Now I understand that there’s no winning that argument. What one man sees as a waste, another might see as a treasure.”

Obi-Wan can’t do this. He thought--maybe he could--but. He can’t. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, moving to stand on his feet. “I hate to leave, but I must attend to--”

Anakin scrambles to his feet and latches onto Obi-Wan’s covered wrist. “Do you?” he asks intently, his hold tightening. “Did you?”

“This--this is most inappropriate, Chosen Skywalker, please remove yourself from my person.”

Anakin, blast him, moves even closer. Obi-Wan wonders if he can hear his heartbeat from that far away or if it’s just in Obi-Wan’s ears. “You have to tell me,” he demands. He’s always demanded things from Obi-Wan. Stories, and kisses, and comfort, and promises. Obi-Wan had given him everything he’d asked for, up until the very end.

Unsurprisingly, nothing has changed.

“Tell you what,” Obi-Wan snaps, yanking his wrist away from Anakin’s touch. Even through the covering, his skin feels burned. “Tell you that I hated having to leave you? Tell you that I’ve thought about you every night since then? Tell you that there was a war, that I had to fight, that I didn’t choose to go? That I had a duty to the galaxy, to the Jedi, to my family?”

“You had a duty to me!” Anakin snarls back, squaring his shoulders and shoving forward into Obi-Wan’s space. “I was your soulmate and you left me and I waited and you never once called me, never once tried to visit! And then the war ended and you never came back!” His voice breaks and the flood of words Obi-Wan desperately does not want to hear breaks with it for just a second. “Why didn’t you come back? I don’t...I don’t care that you had to fight. I knew I couldn’t leave with you, not until I had freed my mom. But you just. You left.”

“I’m not the same man I was, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says softly. His voice shakes and he has to turn his head away from his soulmate’s watery blue eyes. “The war--it changed me. It hurt, to fight and kill and strategize on how to more effectively fight and kill the next day. Four years of that, and I knew at the end I wasn’t fit to be anyone’s soulmate, least of all yours.”

When Obi-Wan had first met him, Anakin had been laughing. His head had been tipped back, curls falling over his shoulders. The noise had been loud and honest. He’d been radiant in the Force. It had taken weeks for Obi-Wan to really believe something so bright could be the other half of his soul.

“I wanted to,” Obi-Wan whispers. “Every night I wanted to, and it only got harder after the war ended. I never stopped wanting to. Wanting you.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” Anakin asks. Obi-Wan wants to ask him why it matters if he believes him or not, but Anakin’s words from earlier float back to him. They decided they didn’t want to stay with me, that they didn’t want me. He can’t let Anakin continue to think Obi-Wan didn’t want him, not when he wanted him so badly he ached from it.

With shaking fingers, he moves to pull down the collar of his robes, just far enough that he can pull out the japor snippet he’s worn around his neck since the day Anakin gave it to him. He slowly lifts it over his head and presents it to his soulmate. Anakin’s eyes are wide with wonder as he stares down at the necklace, worm almost smooth by how often Obi-Wan had rubbed the carving with his thumb. “Always, Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmurs, reaching out to grab Anakin’s hand and dropping the wood carving into his palm. He carefully folds the man’s lax fingers around the necklace.

Hating himself for doing it, but needing to do it anyway, he brushes his lips over his fingers in a ghost of a kiss. Beneath his mouth, the wedding band feels warm from Anakin’s body heat. It’s a shockingly cold reminder.

“May the Force bless you and your Chosen, and reunite you at every end of your every day,” Obi-Wan whispers the Council’s official blessings for newly-wed couples into Anakin’s skin.This is the last time he’s ever going to touch him. He doesn’t want to let go.

He must. He does.

[messifangirl]

I... I kinda want to know more about the Cressi waiter and Royalty AUs? They sound like incredible stories. Is vampire/werewolf the one you have a chapter posted? Could you show something more, pretty please?

(Adding a cut!)

The Waiter AU I actually wrote way back in the day. It’s Like A Fairy Tale (5.5k) But I always wanted to write a follow up to it and I have a lot of notes and pieces the sequel. Here’s some:

Cristiano rolls his eyes. "Nothing's wrong," he says. "I just feel like..." He lowers his voice. "Like, I'm chasing him." It sounds silly to say it out loud, and Cristiano's fears are proved right by Marcelo's response.

Marcelo laughs. "Good! It's about time somebody made you work for it." He slaps Cristiano on the arm, laughing again and turning back to his bag. "I like him even more now. Make sure he stops by after the game so I can say hi." He fist bumps Sergio and heads towards the exit.

Sergio watches him leave before focusing on Cristiano. "So it's a little unusual for you. And you're chasing him. But... He's worth it, right Cris?" He widens his eyes imploringly and bites his lip. "I mean, you love him." He flicks his eyes around the room to see if anyone overheard him before turning his attention back to Cristiano. "Right? You've always loved him. He was your first kiss!"

Cristiano's smile dims a little. "Sergio," he says, exhaling and tilting his head back. "It's not that easy, okay?"

And this really isn't a conversation he wants to be having here.

Or at all.

A few seats down, Fabio catches his eye and looks at him questioningly--ready to save him from Sergio if necessary. Cristiano gives a quick shake, indicating everything is fine.

"What do you mean?" Sergio asks, crestfallen. He sits down on the bench in front of Cristiano as if his knees can't hold him up anymore. A hand darts to his waist to fidget with his towel. "You don't love him anymore?" His voice wobbles.

"Sergio," Cristiano starts, rubbing a hand across his face. He takes a deep breath. "I *did* love him. Once. As a child... But it's been fifteen years. And sure, I like him. But I like the idea of him—I liked who he was, and of course I like the look of him now. That's not the point, of course... But things have changed for the both of us... He doesn't know me, and I don't know him. Not really.”

Sergio's still looking up at him with sad eyes. "But..."

Cristiano huffs. "All I'm saying is, we're taking things slow, okay? And it's a little hard, what with our schedule, and the fact that he works two jobs." He shuts his eyes and pictures Leo's face, imagines stroking his cheek and seeing that gorgeous smile. "But yes," he says quietly, opening his eyes again. "I think he's worth it."

The Royalty AU is actually a fairly new idea. Royalty AU has always been one of my fav AUs to read in other fandoms but because I’ve reread kkslover9′s A Tale of Two Princes a thousand times and it is sooooo good, I never really thought to try my own. Until now. It’s still very much in the works and being outlined, and I just completely decided to rewrite the beginning so I don’t want to give you anything that won’t make it into the final, but here’s a little haha.

"It's your duty," Sergio says quietly. "We're all required to do our part. Mine, since I was a child, has been to follow your every step and keep you safe from all harm." He claps a hand on Cristiano's shoulder. "And yours is to lead your people when the time comes. You've already proved your worth in battle, and your men will follow you anywhere. But you've been raised since birth with the expectation to one day take the throne when His Majesty passes. And despite your feelings about what's happening today, I know that you're aware of your responsibilities."

Cristiano's jaw tightens but he forces himself to relax. "Of course you're right," he says, shifting to lean against the wall as well. "I'm just..." He trails off and swallows his frustration down until he can find the words. "I would have preferred Prince Koke over some savage from Barcelona," he adds with a huff. "At least I've met Koke and he's not terrible to look at."

"Koke?" Sergio scoffs. "We both know that you could never be interested in a man who never picked up the sword." He wiggles his eyebrows. "Now, on the other hand, they say Prince Lionel--like you--has commanded Barcelona's armies for years. He's the second son and barely ever attended court. And when he did return home, it was never without a trophy from battle. Apparently, his skill with the sword is unmatched. They call him La Pulga." He quirks his lips. "Think he'd be up for a bout? I'd love to see if what they say is true. And if so, test myself against the best."

Cristiano ignores him. "La Pulga? He's going to be hideous," he murmurs. "I just know it. Probably some uncivilized creature who's disgustingly bloodthirsty and unfit to be seen in our company." He stares down toward the courtyard again, and shudders. "I don't even want to think about it."

The Vampire/Werewolf one is the one I posted a chapter of, yes. It was inspired by some art @detodores did for Cressi week a while back. Here’s some not yet posted :)

The vampire--Leo--looks away, seeming embarrassed. "Yes, but... I'm sorry, it's just feeding is usually just such a private process." He opens his mouth and then closes it like he's rethinking his words. "I fed from two of the wolves from the other pack. They were the ones that volunteered, and I will not betray their names," he says warningly.

"So it did not have to be from all of them?" Cristiano asks, his worries about how much the vampire needed to drink coming to the surface. On the other hand, he's grateful that the rest of his pack can be kept safe and be spared the entire process.

"I realize you are just curious," Leo says with a blink, "however you should be aware that you have just implied I am very promiscuous." He doesn't quite look at Cristiano. "As I said, it is a private process. It can be very... sensual."

Cristiano's cheeks flush as he realizes his misstep. "You're saying it's like fucking," he says, envisioning throttling Sergio for sending him in to do this. Wolves are not shy of their bodies, with the constant shifting leading to the necessity of nudity, but anything leading to actual sexual acts is much rarer and much more sacred.

Leo has no reaction to the crude word. "It can be. Or, it can be simply... meaningful." He sighs. "Blood given is very different from blood taken, despite what you have read or what they show in movies and shows these days. It's about a connection with someone, as well as being about nourishment."

"So it doesn't hurt?" Cristiano asks then, not really wanting to explore this any more than he has to. He's grateful to turn away from the mention of sex and into something else. Of course, he's also somewhat incredulous that such a thing is painless.

"I can make it hurt," Leo says, eyes still not looking at Cristiano. "But I do not. There's no point." He tilts his head as if in thought. "I can not speak for others of my kind. If you are bitten by another vampire, it may not be as I have described."

"So you're not a monster," Cristiano says skeptically, thinking back to the tales of Dracula and trying to replace them with something like a sparkling Edward Cullen.

"Oh, no," Leo says, interrupting his thoughts. "Make no mistake. I am most definitely a monster." He smiles again, and this time, shows two large fangs jutting down from the top of his mouth. They're as white as the rest of him, looking sharp and pointy and dangerous. "Even in this," he pauses and sounds frustrated, "weakened state. I would not call myself anything other than a monster."

"You've killed people then," Cristiano ventures, easing the pressure on his heels even as the conversation does nothing to ease his anxiety.

"Haven't you?" Leo asks, sounding tired again. "The world is not always kind to monsters, is it? And I've lived a very long time. I've had to eat. Had to survive." He closes his eyes again, black lashes stark against his pale skin. "Humans have always been so fragile... It's why I thought working with the wolves would be so beneficial. A way to take humans out of the equation entirely."

"And now your wolves have abandoned you," Cristiano says flatly. "Left you here, in our territory, to die. Because they certainly know we have you. They've had a month to figure that out. And still, they did nothing." He doesn't know why he's trying to drive this point home. Maybe because he hates those wolves and wants Leo to hate them too.

Leo does not reply. 

[moonbeamsung]

I Fell for You Like the Autumn Leaves

In which your neighbor, who might as well be a complete stranger to you, convinces you to revisit an old childhood tradition of yours. Oh, and you end up falling in love with him.

member: chenle (featuring the dreamies and taeyong)

au: pumpkin patch volunteer!chenle x gn!reader

word count: 11.3k

genre: fluff, angst, humor

warnings: mutual pining, very mild profanity, kissing, teasing

author’s note: I know, I know, the au is oddly specific but just trust me! :) And I’m crossing my fingers that the tags work this time. I have nothing else to say except that I’m very proud of this fic and it was very fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it. Hope everyone who celebrates had a nice Halloween!

The tall, slender lamp post on the sidewalk outside of your house glows a pale amber color under the gray evening sky, illuminating the leaf-littered ground beneath it. You’ve walked past it hundreds, maybe even thousands of times, on a day just like this one. But this time, something’s different.

There’s a small flyer taped somewhat haphazardly to the side of the post, the dark lavender paper catching your eye. It’s positioned perfectly at eye-level, and you begin to read.

Fall is finally here, and you know what that means: The town’s annual pumpkin patch and festival is now open! Pick out your perfect pumpkin, find your way through a corn maze, take a peaceful hayride, and more! Come visit us all throughout the autumn season, 7 days a week from 10am to 8pm, at the corner of Chestnut Way and Fairview Boulevard. There’s fun for the whole family!

Small illustrations of pumpkins and colorful leaves fill the margins of the flyer, and the festive palette seems to brighten up the gloominess of the October day surrounding you.

“Hey!”

Whirling around, you’re met with the sight of your neighbor, Chenle. He’s holding more of the flyers in one hand, a small roll of tape in the other.

Despite him living only a few houses down from you for a number of years, you hardly know anything about him. You suppose he’s always seemed sort of mysterious. Sometimes you would catch glimpses of him outside from your window, and no matter if you saw him snapping photos of the blossoming flower bushes in his yard, riding his bike down the street with some friends, or just sitting on his upstairs balcony with a book in his hand, none of these things gave you any clues as to what he’s really like.

You two have exchanged brief hellos whenever you’ve passed each other on the sidewalk, him on his way somewhere and you heading home, but aside from those fleeting encounters, he’s a puzzle for you to figure out. You can’t help but wonder about him. Is he a quiet or a loud person? Is he on the serious side, or does he laugh at almost anything? What’s his personality like in general? Long story short, Chenle intrigues you, and maybe after today you’ll know at least a little bit more about him.

“Hi,” you return his greeting with a small smile, the kind of smile you give when you’re not exactly sure what else to say.

“Those flyers look pretty good, huh? I helped design them this year!” He explains with a proud grin, placing a hand on his hip as he studies your response. To be fair, he hardly knows anything about you either, and upon seeing you inspecting the flyer, he had decided to approach you and hopefully take a small step towards becoming your friend.

“Really? That’s cool.” The awkwardness in the air between you is far too tangible for your liking, and you silently hope he’ll take the responsibility of carrying on the conversation you’re currently sharing. Luckily, this wish of yours is granted moments later.

“You’ve been to the pumpkin festival before, right?”

You nod. It’s true, the annual tradition is one that everyone in town can enjoy, but in recent years you’ve started to lose interest in the festivities. You’re growing up, and it’s like you’re at this weird in-between stage. Mostly, those that attend are either large families complete with young children eager to explore every corner of the patch, or couples hoping to enjoy the ambience created by the cute decorations and cozy autumn atmosphere. You belong to neither of these groups, and so you’ve felt more than a little out of place the last few times you’ve gone.

You’re not sure if this is something you should share with Chenle, but without waiting for any kind of approval from your brain, the words leave your mouth anyway.

“Yeah, but I don’t really have anyone to go with and I don’t know anyone working there, so I’m not sure if I’ll make it this year.”

He frowns sympathetically for a split second before his face lights up again. “Aw, but I was just about to tell you that I’m volunteering there this year! So... if you’re worried about not having someone to hang out with, you’ll have me.”

“Only if you want!” He quickly adds, and that’s the first time he’s seemed nervous, or at least anything less than completely confident during your conversation. The cutest shade of red appears on his cheeks, and you don’t know how you could possibly refuse his offer now.

“Hmm... I guess I can reconsider, then.” You smile wider, more genuinely this time, after faking your contemplation by tapping your toe and tilting your head, a finger stroking your chin as if in deep thought.

“Really?” He replies happily with a small gasp, and his foot starts to lift off of the pavement to take an excited step towards you before he stops himself. If you notice, you don’t say anything.

You nod once again, and he notes how enthusiastic you seem now. Cute.

“Great! My shifts are on weekdays, from 2 to 7. I’ll see you there?”

“Definitely.”

The next week, you bundle up in your warmest jacket before making your way down the sidewalk, turning when necessary as you navigate the winding streets of your neighborhood. About half a dozen blocks later, you’re out on the main road, and you can just barely spot the entrance to the festival in the distance, orange lights strung along an archway that marks the small trail leading to it.

When you finally reach the inside of the pumpkin patch, the first thing you do is look for Chenle. You regret not asking him exactly where he would be working, but it can’t be that hard to find him, right?

He’s been on edge all afternoon, wondering if you would actually show up. It’s not that he didn’t believe you when you told him you would be there, he most certainly did, but there’s an oddly anxious feeling in his stomach that’s been affecting his behavior and he’s not sure he wants you to see him like this.

Chenle, just like everyone else, can be clumsy sometimes. But today? Today was a whole different story. He nearly dropped one of the biggest pumpkins in the patch while he was trying to lift it from the tall haystack it had been sitting on. His shoelace had somehow become untied while he was walking through the corn maze to check for any candy-apple wrappers or cider cups on the ground. Fortunately enough for him, no one had been around to see him trip over it, saving him at least a little bit of embarrassment. He even accidentally left the door to one of the animal stalls open, earning him a light scolding from his supervisor, Taeyong, and an entire hour on feeding duty for the horse it belonged to, between its scheduled hayride shifts.

It wouldn’t be a good second impression, he decides, if you were here to spend time with him only to see him completely failing at doing his job instead.

So when he spots you not too far away, craning your neck as you search for him among the large crowd, he’s conflicted. Does he face his fear of messing up in front of you and possibly risk your only recently-formed opinion of him, or does he avoid you the whole night? His heart clenches at that last option, and in a spur-of-the-moment decision his legs begin to carry him over to you. Catching your eye, he smiles despite the uncharacteristic lack of confidence in himself that he’s currently feeling.

You’re hurriedly cutting across the sea of people that fills the walkways to meet him, and when you’re within an arm’s reach you start to lift your hand in a small wave. Before you can stop walking completely, however, he takes your raised hand in his own, briskly guiding you off to the side to stand out of the way of the massive group of festival-goers. Just as quickly as he took your hand he releases it again, gently letting it drop to hang by your side.

You only just had your first proper conversation with him a matter of days ago, and he’s your neighbor for goodness’ sake. So why in the world did your heart rate seem to speed up just then?

There’s a small bench nearby, and he motions to it with a nudge of his shoulder. Sitting down next to him, you try your best to ignore the confusing signals that your body’s sending you right now.

“You came!”

“Of course I did,” you reply with a laugh. “It’s nice to have someone to enjoy the festival with for a change. I’ve really missed that.”

“What do you mean?”

You explain to him how it had grown out of being a family tradition, and that your friends always seemed to be busy, leaving you on your own year after year.

“Well... you have me now!” His voice is cheerful, reassuring, and despite all the noise and activity surrounding you at the current moment, it makes you feel at peace.

“Wait.” You glance around, then look back to Chenle. “Shouldn’t you be working, though?”

“...Shoot!” He knew he was forgetting something.

Standing up from the bench you share, he continues. “You can come with me if you want, but I can’t promise that any part of my job will be interesting.”

“It’s okay,” you giggle, standing up as well and following him over to a small covered tent. The inside is packed with people, weaving in and out of aisles created by several wooden tables full of small, colorful gourds. The boy behind the cash register shouts his name, beckoning him over with his hand.

“Hey Chenle, can you come help me weigh these pumpkins? Donghyuck had to go help some kids at the crafts area and business isn’t slowing down anytime soon.” He’s too busy typing numbers into a small computer system to notice that he’s speaking to more than one person. When his eyes finally lift up from the keys, he asks, “Who’s this?”

Chenle introduces you to each other, and you learn that his name is Mark. The gray beanie he’s wearing is somewhat lopsided on his head, dark hair sticking out from beneath it after all the times he’s cutely scratched the back of his neck.

While Mark and Chenle ring up dozens of customers, you entertain yourself by browsing through the wide variety of miniature pumpkins and squashes, some green, some white, some yellow. You occasionally pick up an oddly shaped one, running a finger over the small bumps or darkened bruises on the surface of the fruit.

When you look over at the register again, the line has died down, and after a moment of consideration your eyes land on a vibrant orange pumpkin that looks like it would fit perfectly in the palm of your hand. Picking it up, you smile a little to yourself as you turn, pulling your wallet out from your pocket and patiently waiting behind the 4 groups in line ahead of you.

By the time you finally step up to the checkout counter, Chenle’s been wondering where you went. He hadn’t seen you when he was gifted with the rare chance to look up from the metal scale he’s been constantly working at for almost an hour now. Maybe you got bored, he thinks, and left to go do something else or to just go home altogether. So when he sees the familiar sleeve of your jacket enter his peripheral vision as you place your tiny pumpkin down in front of him, he looks up faster than he thought humanly possible, in both surprise and relief. “You know you don’t have to buy anything,” he attempts to whisper in the hopes of hiding his words from Mark.

“But I want to. This pumpkin’s really cute,” you insist with a pleading look in your eyes.

Like you, he nearly mutters. That would have been a disaster.

“Do you want me to pay for it?” He offers, almost pouting at this point.

“Such a gentleman,” you tease, “But no. I promise, I’ve got it.”

“If you insist,” he responds, matching the sarcastic tone of your words and hoping to distract from his reddening ears. Chenle weighs the pumpkin and then places it into a small bag that you sling over your shoulder, where it will stay for the remainder of the day.

Unbeknownst to both of you, Mark’s eyebrow raises at the playfulness of your conversation. Maybe you don’t notice the furious blush on Chenle’s face, but he certainly does. And he won’t forget it.

“Hey, uh, guys? Donghyuck just texted me that he needs a hand. Do you think you could go meet up with him and help out a little?”

“Are you sure you can handle things here, Mark?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. But Donghyuck won’t be if those kids are deprived of craft supplies for much longer.” He reaches underneath the counter and pulls out a huge stack of plastic sticker sheets, with small images of bats, candy, and everything in between. “Take these.”

“Thanks, Mark! See you later!”

“It was nice to meet you!” You call out over your shoulder, and as you momentarily focus your attention on the boy behind you that’s getting farther away by the second, you’re too caught up in saying your goodbyes to notice that the one beside you grabs your hand again. Chenle gently pulls you away from the counter and out from under the tent, steadily making your way towards the other side of the large pumpkin patch.

You were lucky that Mark had the decency to at least pretend there was nothing going on between you and Chenle. He had refrained from commenting on it in front of you, and simply chuckled to himself when he saw both of you walk off together, hand-in-hand. He finds it amusing that neither one of you seems to notice the mutual fondness the other so obviously has for you. Mark doesn’t know a lot about you, but he knows you must be pretty special to be able to fluster Chenle like that.

Donghyuck, on the other hand, does not possess the same decency.

When you reach the crafts area, which is a small, designated space with several picnic tables and bins full of art supplies like glitter, paint sets, and markers, he gratefully approaches Chenle and accepts the large bundle of stickers from him. Like he’s feeding a hungry mob of seagulls with just a few breadcrumbs, Donghyuck essentially tosses them to the large group of children eagerly jumping at his feet. Scurrying away as they snatch the plastic sheets out of the air and get back to decorating their pumpkins, his eyes land on you for the first time.

With a smug, knowing smirk and an exaggerated nod of his head towards your tightly intertwined fingers, he asks, “Who’s this, Chenle?”

You know those movie scenes where two characters look at each other, at something else, then back at each other again? That’s exactly what happens. Chenle’s and your eyes meet, surprise evident on every feature of your faces, before you both realize the exact same thing at the same time. With shaky pupils, your gazes drift down to each other’s arm, then to your hands, laced together and acting as a source of warmth on this chilly autumn day. Much faster this time, you make eye contact again before rapidly but unwillingly pulling your hands away. The guilty smiles you send Donghyuck’s way say it all.

Chenle introduces you for the second time today as his neighbor, but deep down you both wish it was as something else, something more.

“I see,” Donghyuck says under his breath, in a huff of poorly concealed laughter.

Only Chenle hears him, though, and Donghyuck earns himself a rough shove to the shoulder with the snarky comment. You’re looking in a different direction, vision focused on a small child with a frown on her face as she struggles to embellish the small orange gourd on the table in front of her.

“Chenle?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna go see if I can help that little girl with her pumpkin.” You point a finger in the general direction of the picnic table she’s sitting at, glancing back at him for a second as you make your way over to her.

She’s close to tears now, and crouching down beside her small form, you ask, “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

The girl looks down at you, rushing to wipe her eyes before explaining in a quiet, shaky voice, “None of these stickers are the shape I want for my pumpkin...”

Oh, you realize, she’s trying to make a jack-o-lantern face.

“Um...” Upon looking around, you spot a piece of paper nearby on the table and hand her a purple marker from one of the art supply containers. “Well, can you draw what you want the face to look like and maybe I can help?”

With a small “Mhm,” she takes the marker from you and begins to sketch four odd-looking but not totally unfeasible shapes for the pumpkin’s eyes, nose, and mouth.

A good distance away, Chenle is growing tired of Donghyuck’s endless interrogations about you and if he’s absolutely positively sure that you’re not something more than just neighbors. He wordlessly excuses himself from Donghyuck’s side to join you by the picnic table.

The drawings that the little girl comes up with look like a deformed mix of squares, circles, and triangles. Thankfully, you have access to stickers shaped like all three, and you get an idea.

“What are we working on over here?”

Looking up to see Chenle kneeling down opposite you, resting an arm on the wooden surface of the bench, you notice that his voice is different. Not in terms of its pitch or volume, but just in the way that he’s speaking. It’s even more gentle than usual, filled with concern and care, all because he’s talking to a child. How endearing, you think to yourself, smiling down at the ground for a moment or two before you remember the task at hand.

“They’re helping me with my jack-o-lantern!” The little girl exclaims excitedly, causing Chenle to grin wider than you’d ever seen so far and allowing you to get a glimpse of his adorable eye smile for the very first and certainly not the last time.

Nope. Your heart did not just flutter. At least, that’s what you’ll keep telling yourself.

With a wave of your hand you motion for him to stand up, you doing the same before whispering your plan into his ear. Exchanging nods, you both crouch back down again and set to work, guiding the little girl as she overlaps the stickers on the pumpkin to match the picture she drew.

When you’re finished, she claps her hands together and thanks you multiple times, her genuine gratitude warming both of your hearts more than a blanket or a heater ever could.

“Wait,” you turn back around just as you’re about to walk over to Donghyuck once again. Flipping through the sticker sheets scattered across the table, you find exactly the one you’re looking for and peel it from the plastic.

“Wha—”

Before Chenle can even begin his sentence, you’re already pressing the small acorn sticker onto his cheek, giggling softly at how a blush seems to blossom from underneath it, the adorable pink hue spreading all the way to the tip of his nose. Your thumb applies the slightest amount of pressure to his skin while the remaining fingers hold the side of his face, and your other hand clutches his shoulder over the burgundy sweater he’s wearing. It’s at this moment that it dawns on you: This is definitely not a “neighborly” exchange.

You jump back in shock at your own actions. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I really don’t know why I did that.” Inwardly releasing a string of profuse curses, you awkwardly step closer a second time, lifting your hand again to try to peel it from his face and just wishing this mortifying moment would be over already.

“It’s okay, you can leave it,” he stutters a little, taking a tiny step backwards. “I don’t mind.”

Not really knowing how else to bring the uncomfortable (well, that’s an understatement) conversation to a close, you let his last words hang in the air, casting daunting shadows over your heads as you both repeat the same thought over and over again in your minds like a mantra.

I shouldn’t like them...

Trying and failing to sneak a slight glance at the other, your gazes meet at the same time, both of you looking away just as quickly once you realize you’ve been caught red-handed. Or in this case, red-faced.

...But I do.

A few minutes prior, another festival volunteer had taken over Mark’s job at the cash register, leaving him free to roam around for at least a little while. Not knowing where else to go, he had come to see Donghyuck, and by default, you and Chenle.

As they watch your rather amusing response to the realization of and sudden embarrassment at such a shameless display of your crush on Chenle that you can’t quite bring yourself to accept just yet, Mark and Donghyuck talk lowly amongst themselves.

“He should just ask them out already. I haven’t even known that they exist for 15 minutes and I’m already sick of seeing them both deny their feelings for each other. It’s so painfully obvious!” Donghyuck makes a gagging noise, earning a glare from Mark.

“It’s kind of cute, though. Like puppy love.”

“Whatever you say, Romeo,” he snickers.

“Hey!” Mark shoves his shoulder, annoyed. Donghyuck just laughs.

Pulling out his phone, the younger boy types up a quick text message before hitting the small arrow to send it. Out of the corner of his eye, Mark sees the delivered blue speech bubble appear on the screen and asks him, “Who’s that to?”

“Jeno. He and Jaemin have got to see this.”

Not even a minute later, Chenle’s own phone dings with a message from the former of the aforementioned boys, providing a distraction from and successfully dispelling some of the tension that continues to weigh down on you both.

Once he finishes reading the text, Chenle looks up at you and explains, “Two of my friends are working concessions and they’re almost out of a few things, so I need to go pick up what they need and bring it to them.”

You frown a little and furrow your eyebrows. “Isn’t it weird that everyone’s been asking you to go from place to place bringing them stuff all day?”

Now that he thinks about it, you’re right. But there’s no time to stand around and wonder why there seems to be a pattern with his tasks today.

“Bye Donghyuck! We’re gonna go help Jaemin and Jeno at the concessions stand!”

Was it too much to ask for Chenle to absentmindedly grab your hand again? Apparently yes, because much to your disappointment he refrains from doing so this time.

“Did you seriously ask Jeno to make up a fake excuse for help just so you could get them to leave?” Mark questions him, a clearly unamused expression on his face.

“First of all, no. He actually told me that they’re running low on candy apples. And second, not only that, but also so they can see just how hopelessly they’re crushing on each other.”

“Meaning that they can tease them about it, too, right?”

“Exactly!”

Mark rolls his eyes. He supposes he shouldn’t even be surprised at this point. Donghyuck is always full of mischief.

You remain by Chenle’s side as he leads you towards a storage area for the festival and over to the kitchen section, where he grabs a medium-sized cooler packed with freshly candied apples. The walk is filled with casual conversation, any awkward encounters earlier in the day becoming long forgotten, or at least temporarily put out of your minds.

Not having any of his friends around to tease you helps, too.

The few minutes you have to yourselves come to an end all too soon, and as you approach a large booth that appears to be full of just about every autumn snack imaginable, you catch the eye of one of the two boys standing behind it. Whether it’s Jeno or Jaemin, you’re not sure. But sure enough, like everyone else you’ve met so far today, his gaze becomes one of surprise and interest upon seeing the way you’re walking so close to the tall boy at your side.

You decide to take the liberty of introducing yourself this time instead of leaving Chenle to do it for you. Reaching an arm out in front of you, you shyly step up to the conveniently empty counter of the stand. The first boy shakes your hand while the other turns around, eyes darting from you to Chenle multiple times.

“I’m Jaemin,” he lets go of your hand, but not before shooting you a wink and a ridiculously charming grin. Chenle’s stomach churns with jealousy. The boy is always like this, Chenle knows, but with you it’s different. Normally it’s just the regular flirtatious remark directed at a passing customer, making them nearly spill their popcorn or choke on their cotton candy. Despite his awareness of the fact that he means no harm, Chenle still has to fight the urge to pull you into him protectively. Jaemin picks up on his sudden envy but chooses not to mess with him further.

The second one speaks up, doing the same as Jaemin without the wink, instead displaying an endearing eye-smile of his own. “I’m Jeno.” His eyes light up when they land on the freezing container Chenle’s carrying. “Are those the candy apples?” He exclaims. “Thank you so much!”

“No problem,” Chenle grunts in response as he hands it to Jeno over the counter, still bitter about Jaemin’s coquettish introduction of himself. Picking up on his annoyed tone, you send a confused glance and then a sympathetic smile the boy’s way as you try to subtly calm whatever frustration that remains within him.

He softens immediately, regretting any worry he may have just caused you with his uncharacteristically cold demeanor. It’s immediately forgotten when Jaemin motions for the both of you to round the corner of the booth. Stepping inside from the back, you instantly realize it’s much too cramped to fit four people.

You’re about to excuse yourselves to go stand outside again when Jeno strides past, just a little too close for comfort. Taking a step back to move completely out of his way, you make a fatal miscalculation: Chenle’s right behind you. With a thud your back crashes into his stomach, and the awkwardness is more than just palpable.

Throughout the next few minutes you look for every opportunity to step away from him and escape the mutual discomfort of your current position, but business at the concessions stand picks up and both of the boys are constantly rushing back and forth, leaving you no room to do so. It’s not a physical discomfort, not in the slightest, but more so one where your self-consciousness is heightened, and you’re aware that it looks like something a couple would do, the way a couple would stand. In any other moment, perhaps a more private one, you might not have minded the proximity so much, but the public setting you’re in creates the need that you feel to visibly reject the non-existent distance between you and him.

Chenle could get used to how perfectly you two seem to fit together in what’s almost a back hug, with the way he could oh so easily wrap his arms around you from behind. Just not here, not now. Would it be too much, he thinks, for him to place a gentle hand on your shoulder as you both wait for the chance to separate from each other? He decides the answer is no, and as you both endure constant gusts of air each time Jaemin and Jeno pass you, Chenle holds you, grip light on the space between your arm and neck that’s covered in the cotton material of your jacket. His touch eases your nerves about the situation, for which you’re beyond thankful.

While you wait, your eyes find themselves lingering on the customers that shuffle through the line, some young, some old, tall or short. The scrumptious scents wafting within the booth begin to overwhelm your noses after some time, the pungent aroma of apples and spiced cinnamon becoming almost too much to bear for your sense of smell.

As expected, by the time you actually notice there’s finally enough space for you to step away from each other, you’ve already gotten comfortable where you are. The delayed response to this makes Jeno chuckle under his breath, handing a final box of pumpkin pie to an older couple over the counter of the concessions stand.

Glancing down at his watch, Chenle notes how much time has flown by since you arrived at the festival. He also realizes it’s nearly time for his shift at the horse stables, uttering a quick explanation to you and then the other two boys in the booth.

Exchanging brief farewells, you follow Chenle outside and down a thin path to a more secluded area of the festival grounds, out by the field where hayrides are given. On the way, you pass by the corn maze and the games area. The boys manning the attractions both look as if they’re part of the same group of volunteers that Chenle has introduced you to so far, if you had to guess.

Your assumption is confirmed when he waves at the first one, who’s standing beside a small group of children playing bean bag toss. Scanning the area for any supervisors that could scold him for running off for a minute, he darts over to the two of you.

It’s refreshing that he doesn’t inspect you from head to toe with his gaze, something that had happened to you far too much today. “I’m Chenle’s neighbor,” you start before telling him your name, feeling optimistic that he won’t bug you about your connection to each other very much.

“I’m Jisung,” he responds. Then, “Chenle never brings people to the festival like this. Are you dating or something?”

Never mind.

You inwardly facepalm at his blunt statement. Chenle actually does, the smack against his forehead sounding almost painful.

“We have to get going now, Jisung. I just wanted to introduce you to each other.” Despite being frustrated with the younger’s directness, Chenle still gives him a quick side hug and a “Bye” as you walk away, presumably to stop by the corn maze briefly as you had just done with the games area.

“They never answered my question,” Jisung mumbles to himself.

“Renjun!” Chenle calls, hoping this encounter will go more smoothly than the last. Surprisingly enough, it does. The boy extends a hand out for you to shake with a kind smile, not asking any questions about your relationship with Chenle. You’re extremely grateful that he accepts your status as his neighbor and nothing more.

Only when you’re turned away, gazing into the distance at the hustle and bustle of the event does he pat Chenle firmly on the back, exaggerating a wink and whispering a “Go get ‘em, tiger” into his ear. Chenle scowls at Renjun, groaning about being teased the entire day just for bringing someone to the festival with him.

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave you alone.” Renjun starts to back off, but he simply can’t help himself. The next words that spill from his lips will be the last, he vows in his mind. At least, for now.

“...You like them, though, don’t you?”

“Mmph,” Chenle reluctantly replies after a moment, offering a noncommittal answer.

“Don’t overlook it, okay? You never know. They might feel the same way,” he gives Chenle’s arm a quick squeeze before sending him over to you. The light tap he plants on your shoulder makes you turn around with a smile, expectantly gazing up at him. “Ready to go?”

“Yep,” he nods towards the stables, and you both wave back at Renjun as you make your way over to the large structure.

An unfamiliar man leans against one of the walls once you get there. When he sees Chenle, he straightens up and runs a hand through his brown hair, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

The man steps aside from his spot on the wall to reveal a shelf full of animal care items, from cleaning supplies to heavy bags of feed and dry bundles of straw for the ground inside the stalls. “You know what to do,” he nods at the boy while eyeing you carefully at the same time.

Chenle manages to read his mind surprisingly fast, and he jumps to defend your presence. “They’re with me,” he clarifies.

“But you know the rules, Chenle.”

“Just this once, Taeyong! Pleeease?”

Unable to resist the puppy-like expression on his face, Chenle’s supervisor finally caves. That, combined with the way your face fell when he threatened to send you away in a nonverbal manner is enough to make Taeyong change his mind. A minuscule inkling inside of his brain tells him that you’re okay to be by Chenle’s side as he does his job, even if it might mean that he’ll get distracted at times.

“I suppose they can stay.”

“Yes! Thanks, Taeyong!”

“Wait a minute, what’s that on your face?”

Chenle brings a hand up because he’s genuinely forgotten, but when his fingertips brush the cheap plastic sticker on his cheek he remembers how it got there. “Oh, it’s... uh.” He looks to you for help.

“I did that,” you explain with an embarrassed laugh. “We were joking around and I stuck it on his face.”

“Oh, okay, just making sure you know it’s there.”

Some friends he has, Chenle gripes internally. They didn’t even bother to point it out. What if it had been something else?

Luckily, he doesn’t mind the cute sticker, even if it does make him blush like a fool when he thinks about your cute hands pressing it onto his skin.

As Taeyong passes him on his way out of the stable doors, he pinches one of his rounded cheeks, leaving the younger boy cringing in the process.

Time passes somewhat slowly as you watch Chenle go about doing his tasks, first taking one small handful of the horse’s food at a time and feeding it to her, steadily depleting her evening meal little by little. Then he grabs a broom and steps into the stall to sweep some of her bedding.

“What’s her name?” You ask him after a while, the simplicity of his actions creating a calming effect on you as you observe them. You only know it’s a female because you had heard him mutter “Good girl” to the horse rather affectionately a few minutes earlier.

“Nutmeg.”

“That’s cute,” you reply.

The silence feels heavy, begging you to face what you’ve both left unsaid throughout the day. It’s the first time you’ve really been alone together since you got here. But you’re both too scared to bring up the countless assumptions made by his friends over and over again during the time you’ve spent together that you’re dating, fearing that the conversation, supposed to be a joking one, would inevitably progress into something much deeper.

“I’ve had fun today.”

He says it out of nowhere, making both your body and your heart jump a little.

“Me too.” He peeks his head out from the stall to smile at you, your response tinging the tips of his ears red.

A few minutes go by as you fall into a light dialogue, talking about anything and everything you can think of, getting to know each other more. As he’s finishing up, you finally stand from where you’ve been seated for the past 45 minutes, walking leisurely over to the shelf of supplies, which just so happens to be next to the stall door.

All of a sudden Nutmeg hears something that spooks her, and you don’t realize that she starts to charge towards the closed pair of wooden panels you’re currently right beside.

It’s an instant in which Chenle’s clumsiness from earlier in the day threatens to come back in a much more severe form if he doesn’t do something. Senses more alert than yours for whatever reason, he takes action without hesitation, and time seems to slow before his eyes as he does so.

Swiftly moving you out of the way of the split stall door less than a second before it swings open from the force of the horse’s strong neck, Chenle pulls you to him. His arms dart out to catch you tightly by the waist while he turns both of your bodies around, ensuring that he’s the one closest to the enclosure. His reasoning? If he doesn’t take you out of harm’s way fast enough, at least he’ll be the one that feels the impact, not you.

As you’re being held flush against his chest, your mind races to process just how you got into this position. But your heart presses pause on the gears of your brain, and allows you to just enjoy the close intimacy of the moment.

Chenle knows he should do something, say something, but all he can think of is to stay just like this. Your head is turned to the side, an ear pressed to his sternum and in the perfect spot to hear his heartbeat. Its not-so-steady thump matches your own, sounding much like the uneven rhythm that a young child might play on a drum set, striking the instrument with force and conviction and unwavering confidence.

If only you could confront your feelings for him in the same way.

Both thanking him and apologizing profusely for your lack of awareness, you move to take a tiny step back and away from the snug hold of his arms. Only, you find that you can’t. Chenle’s still holding your waist, oblivious to the fact that he’s been clutching you closely for the past thirty seconds in preparation for a moment that lasted less than one.

“You... you can let go of me now, Chenle,” you say apprehensively, a half smile on your lips as you attempt to look him in the eye without being overwhelmed by the urge to kiss him right then and there.

“Ah, right. My bad.”

Chenle’s not usually this bold when it comes to the physicality of a relationship, romantic or not. But he can’t help it that there seems to be an invisible gravitational force surrounding you, just begging for him to reach out and lay a tender hand on the small of your back. Compelling him to tangle your fingers together like a mess of yarn, with the ends fraying and coming undone but at the same time holding each other up, keeping each other from falling apart. Giving one another something to hold on to in the most unlikely of situations.

With only a few minutes left to spare in his shift, he tells you to wait outside while he packs all of the supplies up for the night. Once everything is back in its proper place, Chenle is just about to step outside through the swinging wooden doors of the stables when a small noise from the caramel-colored horse stops him in his tracks. Turning around, he carefully approaches the animal with an outstretched arm, stroking her shiny mane once he’s close enough.

“What am I going to do, Nutmeg?” The conversation is a futile one, he knows, but it proves to be therapeutic for his conscience. She nuzzles his hand with her snout as he leans onto the wall, lost in thought.

“Should I tell them how I feel?” Her large dark eyes peer back at him, and as silly as it sounds, Chenle gets the sense that she actually understands, despite her inability to respond with comprehensible words.

“I’ll do it, then. Not tonight, but soon. Before autumn ends,” he vows, making a promise to himself and his heart all at once.

Nutmeg lets out a small whinny as if to express her approval. Smiling at the animal’s nonverbal reassurance, he opens the door to step out into the chilly fall night, strides a little lighter and head held higher than usual.

As the small clock tower set up in the middle of the festival grounds tolls seven times, loud clangs disrupting the low and indistinct chatter of the evening, you and Chenle return to the same bench you sat on that afternoon, eyes heavy and feet tired by now.

“Your shift is over now, right?”

“Yeah,” he affirms. “Ready to go home?”

“Definitely.”

The festival has mostly cleared out, which is surprising for the time of night that it currently is. The lack of all the hustle and bustle around you makes it significantly easier to navigate the paths extending in nearly every direction across the grounds.

On your way to the exit of the festival, the same autumn-themed archway you ducked under several hours ago, you pass a few of the boys you met during the day, offering a small wave goodbye to them.

The roads are quiet as you and Chenle walk next to each other on the paved sidewalk, the streetlights placed at every small intersection between the tightly-knit suburban roads providing the only source of illumination. With no one around to hear his shaky voice, he turns to you and stutters out, “I know I didn’t ask for your permission to do this earlier, but may I hold your hand?”

You let him, but not without a bashful scratch to the back of your neck and a mumbled answer of “Sure” directed his way.

Like two schoolchildren with the biggest and most obvious crushes on each other, there’s a skip in both of your steps as you walk the rest of the way home. Insisting on staying outside of your house until he sees the light in your bedroom window turn on, Chenle bids you a sweet goodnight with a lingering hug and a small kiss to the top of your head that he mistakenly thinks you don’t notice.

That night you fall asleep with a smile on your face, visions of pumpkins dancing through your mind and the small one that you bought resting on your nightstand beside you.

It’s the first thing you see when you wake up the next morning, and you reach out to take the small item in your palm. You’re convinced that you can still feel the warmth of Chenle’s hands cradling it as he placed it on the scale, recording the measurement before he gave the miniature pumpkin to Mark, who told you how much it cost. You were so eager to accept the small tote bag Chenle was extending out to you that you didn’t even bother asking for your change back, shoving the money into Mark’s hand and insisting that he keep it.

Your eyes land on the same bag, sitting in the corner of your room, and it makes your face break out into a bright grin. Not even bothered by how early you’ve woken up, you bound down the stairs for breakfast, the most excited for the day ahead you can ever remember being.

You spend the next couple of weeks visiting Chenle during his shifts at the festival, sometimes staying late enough for him to walk you home like he did that first day. With each time he sees you, he warms up to your presence, becoming more like his usual witty and hardly-ever-flustered self. Oddly enough you start to act less and less like a couple, which doesn’t go unnoticed by his friends. The incessant blushing is gradually replaced by sarcastic banter with one another. You don’t know anyone who makes you laugh like Chenle does.

“Hey,” he pipes up one afternoon as you’re watching him organize some pumpkins. “What if I dyed my hair this color?” Chenle points to one that’s a particularly vivid shade of orange, raising his eyebrows as you think of a reply.

“Then you’d look like a pumpkin,” you hum in response.

He chuckles. “Is that supposed to be a bad thing?“

You shake your head. “Not necessarily. Are you really going to dye it, though?”

“Probably not.”

“As you wish, pumpkin.”

He whirls around, nearly dropping the stack of gourds in his hands. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me... pumpkin,” you smirk after repeating the new nickname, and it puts an impossibly cute pout on his face.

“Don’t call me that!”

You jokingly ruffle his hair, and Chenle’s small smile betrays his annoyed facade as he realizes he could get used to hearing the word roll off your tongue, not to mention you addressing him with it.

It’s the week of Halloween when the six boys that volunteer with Chenle at the festival meet up to create a plan that will, ideally, end with both of you confessing your feelings. All but one of them, which happens to be Mark, excitedly discuss possible ways to set you two up. Should they send you on a private hayride somehow? Or maybe they could get you to try out the corn maze together, and hopefully you would struggle with finding your way out long enough to express your mutual crushes on each other.

“I don’t know about this, guys. I still think we should just let them figure it out on their own.”

“You’re no fun, Mark,” Donghyuck chastises. The eldest shrugs, an expression of resignation on his face. At least he tried.

Finally, they decide on having both of you move between each of their respective areas or booths around the festival, dropping as many hints to you about the other’s infatuation as possible. First you’ll start the evening off by navigating through the corn maze, which they realize is impossible for you to get lost in since Chenle had to memorize the map of it. So much for their earlier plan.

After that, Renjun will usher you off towards Jisung’s station, the game area. Conveniently, he’ll suggest you play the balloon dart toss together, but there’s going to be a catch: one of you has to carry the other in their arms while they throw them. They laugh a little at how flustered they imagine you’ll get.

Next, Mark and Donghyuck will help you pick out the best pumpkin to carve for the upcoming holiday. You’ll start to pick it up, but Chenle will insist on holding it instead. If you had heard this, you would be fuming. Who says you’re not strong enough to carry a pumpkin on your own? You’ll show them.

To end the night, Jaemin and Jeno will “accidentally” only give you one stick of cotton candy, forcing you to share. By that time, they hope you’ll be perceptive enough to finally see that the attraction is mutual, diminishing the fear of rejection in both of your minds.

Not so surprisingly, nothing would go as planned.

The boys put their little scheme into action on the night of October 30th. Chenle is actually finished with his days of volunteering at this point, and even though he could stay home after working many long hours over the past few weeks, he opts to visit the festival as a guest this evening, with you by his side.

He picks you up outside of your house, waiting on the sidewalk right next to the same lamp post that the flyer for the festival was taped to, also known as the entire reason why you’re in this situation in the first place. If you hadn’t taken the time to read those words on the purple-colored page, you honestly don’t know where you’d be right now.

Dressed in your favorite and coziest autumn outfit, you practically fly down the stairs of your front porch to greet him. Like you’ve gotten used to doing by now, he holds your hand in his as you walk, taking the same route you always do.

Chenle’s heart beats a little faster when he sees your eyes light up at the sight of the festival in the distance. For the first time, you’ll both be able to enjoy the event together without being bombarded by constant requests to help with various tasks throughout the night. Or so you thought.

From the moment you step foot inside the grounds, Jisung is already standing at the entrance and hurriedly directing you to the corn maze. Confused but obedient nonetheless, you both head towards where his finger is pointing.

Chenle knows something is up as soon as he sees a familiar mischievous twinkle in Renjun’s dark eyes. “You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” he tells you.

“Chenle, it’s a maze. I don’t think they work like that.” He ignores your playful sarcasm.

Speaking in the quietest voice he can muster, which is quite a feat for him, Chenle leans in close to whisper harshly in the older boy’s ear. “What are you trying to pull?”

At a volume level that’s loud enough for you to hear, Renjun replies, “The others and I thought it would be fun to plan out your evening a little! So first we want you to start here, at the corn maze.”

“Aw, really? That sounds like fun!” Oblivious to the group’s true motives, you endorse their plan with your words. “Better get started,” Renjun winks. As you turn to make your way in between the tall rows of vegetables, he roughly yanks Chenle backward to quietly say, “There isn’t a more perfect time to confess to them, I mean, a romantic autumn night at the festival? Make a move already,” he encourages.

Glowering back at him, Chenle reluctantly follows you into the maze.

Only 15 minutes later you emerge from the corn stalks, the boys’ scheme momentarily forgotten. It quickly comes to mind again when you find Jisung waiting outside for you for the second time that night. One time too many, in Chenle’s opinion.

Not missing a beat, the younger of the two boys leads you both over to the area he’s assigned to. The wall of colorful balloons catches your attention immediately. “Let’s play this one!” You exclaim as you tug on his sleeve like a little kid. Delighted with your choice, Jisung quickly explains the rules, but the twist he adds to them goes right over your head. In fact, you’re the one that offers to carry Chenle first. Neither of your faces turn pink with embarrassed blushes.

You don’t even bat an eyelash as you carry the pumpkin that you picked out together in your arms, much to Donghyuck’s dismay. Mark just stands to the side, amused at their attempts to artificially force confessions out of you. The singular stick of cotton candy that Jaemin hands to you over the counter of the concessions stand fails to phase either of you whatsoever, and you end up just pinching off small pieces from the sticky sweet dessert with your hands. Jeno points out your simple solution to the boy standing next to him, observing their failure. “Why didn’t we think of that?” He mumbles.

The six boys finally gather together when they collectively realize they didn’t succeed, but actually did just the opposite. Making a small circle, they start to argue and pointlessly blame one another for causing everything to go wrong. You only manage to catch a few words of their heated conversation, but something in your gut tells you that they were up to more than just creating a schedule of activities for you to follow.

Exchanging glances, you and Chenle nod at each other, about to try and quietly slip away from them. Hand in hand, you take careful steps backwards, but before you can dash away Mark catches sight of you. Thankfully, he smiles a little and puts a finger to his lips, making a “shh” sign as he waves his hand in a signal for you to hurry up.

Abandoning all of your cares, you give up on going unnoticed by the group and shamelessly scamper off in the opposite direction.

“Wait, I know that place!” You shout excitedly as you pass a small playground meant for the younger visitors to the festival. “Can we go over there?” You plead with him, but you suppose you shouldn’t call it that since he gives in to your request so easily.

The child-sized vehicle standing in the center of the play area is a familiar sight to you, and Chenle knows what you’re about to ask him before you even open your mouth. “Go ahead,” he says with a loving smile on his face as he motions to the carriage, designed to look like the very object that the entire festival itself centers around. Catching up to you, Chenle steps forward a little so that he reaches the small stairs leading up to it first.

“Your highness,” Chenle bows, crossing one foot behind the other and bending a knee. Opening the creaky door to the pumpkin carriage for you, he gestures to the inside of the oversized fruit, the graceful movement ushering you to climb inside. You bashfully tug on your striped scarf, holding the woolen material up against your cheeks as you laugh at his chivalrous display. It tickles a little, and he thinks you look even more adorable bundled up like that.

The interior is much smaller than you remember. But then again, you had been much smaller the last time you sat in this very seat.

Calling the inside of the carriage cramped is an understatement. There are two narrow benches on either side of it, the space on the floor between them barely enough to fit the legs of one occupant, much less two. Chenle struggles but eventually sits down across from you, unintentionally forcing your knees to rest in between his. The small windows on the squeaky, rusty doors do little to let in any light whatsoever. In the darkness, you can’t see the boy’s face flush at your closeness.

‘What now?’ You think to yourself, wondering if you’re brave enough in this moment to finally tell him how you feel, how much you enjoy his company, how special he’s become to you. And though you don’t know it, across from you Chenle is contemplating doing the same. He beats you to it with his next actions.

Your racing train of thought skids to an abrupt halt when you feel his hand on the lower part of your thigh, touch innocent and timid as it lingers on the soft fabric of your corduroy pants.

Eyes hurriedly adjusting to the dim space surrounding you, you feel his fingers grasp your own before you see them. At last you make eye contact with each other, gazes boring into one another and recognizing the same things, the same feelings in them. Chenle’s clutching your hand in his now, the first still resting comfortably on your thigh, and you feel the dull sensation of his legs bending inward, squeezing your knees together. His mouth opens, rounded lips parting as though to ask the question that you both already know the answer to. You bring an arm up to hold him by the shoulder, the movement in itself confirming that this is what you want as well. That he’s what you want.

Careful not to bump your heads against the low ceiling of the carriage, he leans towards you, closing the already minimal distance between your faces as he meets your lips in a kiss.

Heads tilting and eyelashes fluttering shut at the same instant, you both pour every unspoken thought, every secret glance, every loving word that never made it past your lips into the contact they currently share. The moment itself feels long overdue, like something you could have done on that first day you spent at the festival together.

It means more this way, though. The amount of time it took for this to happen gave you more time to discover and get comfortable with the way you feel about Chenle. To get comfortable with him. His presence, his humor, his personality, his touch, everything about him is something you’ve grown to depend on over these past few weeks.

Even your lips begin to depend on Chenle as they fall into place against his own, moving with a fervor you weren’t even aware you possessed.

There’s a quiet rhythm to the osculation of your lips, an airy sigh or breath from one of you breaking the silence every few seconds. In the midst of the indescribably wonderful sensation that is the kiss you’re sharing, you faintly feel his hand start to move up and down your leg, not in a provocative way but a reassuring one. His loving caresses have you leaning further into him even though there’s barely enough room to do so, making you wish for one reason and one reason alone that you were having this kiss somewhere else. Otherwise, the location is perfect.

More than a decade has passed since you were just a young child, begrudgingly posing for a photo for your parents by poking your head out through the same small window of the carriage. Since then, the orange of the paint has dulled, the once-soft carpet on the floor has become coarse from the countless shoes that have trodden over it. The wooden doors are splintered and, though never functional, the carriage’s large wheels have undoubtedly begun to show their age with the amount of dirt and dust caught in the grooves.

You’ve made many memories in this place, but the one you’re making today is sure to be unforgettable.

Chenle would give anything to be able to hold you right now, to maybe bring you onto his lap in a tender embrace as he shows you just how fast and how hard he’s fallen for you. Not that volunteering at the festival was a bad thing at all, but you made it so much more bearable, so much more fun. The thought of spending another perfect day with you was more than enough to get him out of bed every morning.

He compromises for the restrictions that the enclosed space places on your movements by untangling his fingers from yours, choosing to cup your cheek with them instead. You’re a little disappointed when his hand lifts from its place on your thigh, anxiousness bubbling up in your gut as you anticipate where he’s going to place it next.

It’s safe to say you just about melt when you feel his palm come up to delicately cradle one side of your chin, thumb darting out to glide along the skin that’s just below your bottom lip. Arching into him, you make the most of the little room you have left to pull him closer.

It’s then that your lungs finally catch up to both of you, sending simultaneous signals telling you to breathe. Granted, Chenle’s kisses feel like all the oxygen you’ll ever need anyway.

Reluctantly leaning away, your chests heave with muted but sharp gasps. A pang of worry hits you when he doesn’t smile, doesn’t laugh, doesn’t say anything. His mouth has fallen open, eyes wide with just as much anticipation as you feel. Taking what feels like the biggest breath in your life, you pray your voice doesn’t tremble as you speak for the first time since you clambered into the dark, cozy carriage.

“I really like you, Chenle.”

The relief that washes over you when he responds is unlike any you’ve ever felt before.

“I like you, too.”

But he’s not done.

“...A lot, in case you hadn’t noticed.” The extra detail makes you giggle, smiling shyly at anything that isn’t him.

He goes to lean in again when you stop him. “Wait, wait, can we at least get out of here first? I want to do this properly.”

You scoot sideways after he nods in agreement, far enough for him to open the door and step down from the elevated imitation of a pumpkin. He extends a hand up to you once he’s on solid ground again, and you take it. His face breaks into that signature bubbly grin of his that’s more contagious than you’d like to admit.

Joining him on the grassy surface, you dramatically stretch your arms out in front of you, waiting for him to reciprocate the hug you’re implicitly requesting.

The impish twinkle in his eye you know so well appears with his next words. “Can I pick you up?”

“You’ll drop me!” You retort, scoffing.

“Aw, c’mon! No I won’t,” he pouts. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Do I?”

“Yes, you do.”

Strong arms envelop your form as he lifts you into the air, only to pull you tightly against his torso. Not even the world’s fluffiest blanket can compare to the fleecy warm softness of the plaid shirt and sweater vest he’s wearing.

The enamored smile on Chenle’s face is the kind that would have made you weak in the knees if you were standing. Forgetting that you’re no longer shielded from the world by the carriage’s privacy, he presses your foreheads together and cutely nuzzles your nose with his own.

Framing his sharp jawline with both of your hands, you lean in to share a second kiss with the boy you wish you had gotten to know sooner. It’s no use wondering about what could have been, however, so for now you decide to focus on only this moment, only these lips, only Chenle. The way he smiles into the kiss has you reeling with affection.

Not even the distant cheers that just barely reach your eardrums can tear you away from each other.

When you feel as though the kiss has conveyed all you want and need to say to one another, Chenle begins to mumble against your lips. In a voice low enough for only you to hear, he says, “We’re going to have to face them sooner or later, you know.”

“How about never?” You reply, grumbling.

“Just follow my lead, okay? I’m used to their teasing,” he comforts.

“If you say so...”

Breaking out of the kiss-induced daze, you both look over to where the six boys stand, clapping and pumping their fists in the air in celebration with one another.

One of them, probably Renjun, you can’t quite tell, cups his hands around his mouth in preparation for the shout that leaves it not even a second later.

“It’s about damn time!”

“I told you guys if we just left them alone they’d figure it out themselves!” Mark adds triumphantly.

Apparently more than one kiss is one too many for his friends to see, and enough to make the small group turn away, yelling for you to “get a room” at the top of their lungs. You feel Chenle smirk against your lips at their repulsed reactions.

“Serves them right.”

You agree.

You’ve never had someone to spend Halloween night with before, and boy does this stress Chenle out to no end. He wants everything to be perfect, wants to do everything that a couple should do on such a holiday. “It’s really not a big deal, Chenle,” you insist sympathetically as he paces your living room floor, currently obsessing over what costumes you should wear.

“But... it’s you, and you’re a big deal. A big deal to me. I just want to make you happy.”

“Nothing could make me happier than being able to call you mine,” you proclaim proudly, enjoying the way his face practically turns into a tomato when what you’ve just said registers in his brain. “Stop it,” he stutters, lowering his head to stare at the carpet under his feet. You just giggle.

The excitement of the night is unlike any other. Your neighborhood’s streets are full of mostly children, but some adults and grandparents too, all taking part in the festivities. Going from doorstep to doorstep, you chant the famous three-word phrase at each house, assuring anyone who answers the door that you’re never too old to trick or treat if they ask. You get lots of compliments on your matching costumes: Chenle’s dressed as Sully and you’re Mike Wazowski from Monsters Inc. The soft fur on his outfit makes it extremely difficult for you to hold yourself back from hugging him any chance you get.

With your bags full of enough candy to last you two months at least, you return home for the night, this time crashing at his place. Despite the fact that it’s already getting late, both of you quickly change into some more comfortable clothes before settling in on his couch for a Halloween movie marathon.

“How about...” Chenle scrolls through the large selection of films on the screen. “The Nightmare Before Christmas?”

“No!” You cry out abruptly, lightly pounding against his chest with one of your fists before returning it to its original position around his waist.

Looking down at you, currently curled up in his lap with your other arm thrown rather lazily over his sturdy shoulders and your side pressing into his torso, he asks, “Why not?”

In a small voice, you respond. “It... gave me nightmares when I was little.”

“Really? A Disney movie?”

“Yes, now can we please stop talking about it and pick something else?”

“Aw, are you scared?”

“Shut up!” You whine shyly, burying your face as far as it would go into the thin fabric of his loose white t-shirt.

“Hey,” he hushes you, “I’m not making fun of you, baby. It’s okay... I’ve got you.”

Chenle swears he feels the warmth of your blush against his shoulder, generated by his unusual use of that particular term of endearment.

He runs a reassuring palm along one of your arms down to your hand. Effortlessly he winds each of his fingers around yours, like piecing together the most delicate of puzzles, and you remember how this action would have flustered both of you beyond belief mere weeks before. It’s become so simple, so instinctive a movement, saying everything you need to know without even the slightest whisper of a word in the air.

Rubbing small circles into the skin on the back of your neck with his other hand, he holds you close, the harsh light from the television illuminating your form as it clings to his.

You eventually decide on an actual horror movie that leaves you muffling your shrieks with a pillow, but Chenle just laughs with a pitch so high that it reminds you of a certain marine mammal. You scold him by giving his shoulder a whack. “Shh, Chenle! You’re going to wake the whole neighborhood up!”

“Hey, you were screaming too!”

“That’s not screaming, that’s called laughing, you dummy.”

Hours later, Chenle’s arm hangs limply down into the large bowl of treats you’ve been sharing. The soft snores next to your ear tell you that he’s fallen asleep. His family finds you two knocked out cold the next morning, covered in fuzzy blankets and colorful candy wrappers strewn about the sofa.

Indeed, this would be a Halloween to remember, and you hope to spend many more together in the future. With Chenle in your arms right now, there’s no place in this world that you would rather be. And it’s all thanks to a flimsy piece of paper on a lamp post.

[vanderlindemorgans]

Cross My Heart (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings are as follows - mentions of alcohol, descriptions of blood, Whiskey being a bit of an ass and some brief talk of dead relatives. 

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You watched him as he settled himself back down into the couch, taking note of every breath he took while he reclined back, refusing to look you straight in the eye. That didn’t bother you too much - you were too busy studying the myriad of bruises and cuts splayed along his body, from the tears and scuffs in his denim jacket to taking note of his perfectly maintained Stetson. How on Earth that thing had managed to escape from whatever situation Jack had gotten himself into unscathed mystified you, but from what you remembered of him you knew he loved that damn hat to death. 

Neither of you had said a word to each other since he stumbled through your front door only moments before, that heightened sense of tension undoubtedly ripe in the air. You thought if you ever saw Jack Daniels face again that you’d have a couple of cutting remarks to say to him - if you ever did think about him that is, and you usually didn’t. Jack hadn’t haunted your thoughts for years now, memories of the summer you two first met and the cold dark of winter when you fell apart falling away to the sands of time. The last thing you ever expected was to have him show up on the front step of your ranch, looking like he’d been beaten within an inch of his life. Gazing over him now, you felt it was somewhat your obligation to make sure he was fine: despite your less than amicable feelings towards him you weren’t about to let him die on your couch. 

“Can I get you anything?” you asked him, a hint of uncertainty to your tone. He turned his gaze towards you and shrugged slightly, looking no less unsettled than he had a moment before. “I’m fine for now. Trust me, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks”. 

“You sure about that? No offense, but you kind of look like a wreck” you shot back, to which he replied with a small scoff. “Nice to see you too, sweetheart. I forgot how hospitable you were to those in your care”. 

You could feel a spark of heat rise in your cheeks at his words, and almost wanted to retort back with something equally if not more biting. That fucking bastard. Here he was, lying on your couch looking like he’d walked out of a gang fight and he had the gall to give you attitude. “Alright, ignoring your completely rude and uncalled for attitude for a moment, you still haven’t answered my question. What the fuck did you get yourself into?” you asked.

There was a momentary pause where Jack looked back up at you, an expression of remorse crossing over his face in the brief glance he shot at you. Turning his gaze back down towards the wooden coffee table before him, he shook his head and sighed. “Sorry about that, darlin’.I just...I got myself into a bit of a tight situation. Things have gotten complicated now” he explained, prompting you to raise your brow at him. 

“Yeah, I can see that. Who did this to you?”. 

“Just some other agents. It doesn’t matter” he replied curtly. 

“From where? Statesman?” you asked. After dating him for about a year, you were well aware of his position as an agent to Statesman, and you knew exactly what that job entailed. Jack had been injured before, sometimes worse than how he was now. You remembered once he came back from a mission with several different bones broken, multiple gunshot wounds and a concussion. You’d been left worried for weeks after that as he recovered, only being allowed short visits to see him due to the very nature of his job. This time was different though. You knew Jack was a survivor, but for him to show up out of the blue after several years of no contact, looking the way he did, something was horribly wrong. Studying his expression intensely, you couldn’t help but let out a low sigh in frustration. It annoyed you to some degree of how evasive his answers had been thus far. It was almost like he was ashamed to even say what had happened to him, ashamed to be even talking to you. 

“No, no, they...they weren’t. That’s not important right now though” he finally answered, running the edges of his fingers over his tattered jeans. If it were any other day you would have been more upset at his dismissal of your question but upon seeing the troubled look on his face you felt it best to let it go. An uncomfortable silence had started to hang over the room, the space between you and him feeling more and more tense as the moments ticked by. You looked down at your shoes, taking note of every scuff and streak of mud as if they were the most interesting things in the world, and giving yourself another minute of hesitation before blurting out “Why are you in Dallas?”. 

“It just so happened to be the place the cargo plane I was stowing away on landed. I wasn’t tryin’ to seek you out or anything, if you’ll believe me”. 

His explanation gave cause for you to raise a single brow at him once more, not entirely believing it to be a coincidence that he just happened to show up in Dallas after seven years of radio silence. “Really? Why come here then? Don’t you have your agent buddies to fall back on for shit like this?” you inquired, your tone coming off far more biting and bitter than you originally intended it to. You could see Jack seize up slightly at your callousness, a pained expression passing over his face that made your breath catch in your throat for a second before you darted your eyes away from him, focusing back down to your shoes and deriding yourself for even having a moment of fleeting attraction to him. All these years and those pathetic puppy dog eyes still managed to get to you. Damn him. 

“Usually, yeah. Not this time round though. I’ve…” he stopped himself, his eyes betraying the deep wounded pain woven within them, strengthening every second longer he dwelled on the memory of his former glory. “I’ve been kicked out of Statesman. Or, well, I haven’t officially been kicked but after what happened the other day I’d be a damn fool if I even tried to walk through their doors again”. 

You blinked at him in confusion, his words not fully registering with you. Statesman kicked him out? Him of all people? You briefly considered the possibility that he was simply just pulling your leg and trying to gain some sort of sympathy but upon remembering the pained expression on his face you were instantly told all you needed to know about the truth behind his words. Ok, so he’s not lying, but still...why? “I find it hard to believe that they’d just boot out their best field agent. What did you do to warrant that?”. 

You could see Jack’s mouth twitch slightly, indicating that he wasn’t entirely up for divulging such information. Running a hand through his hair, he trained his eyes to the ground and refused to look up at you as he went on to explain what exactly had gone down to lead him there. “Long story short, I had a disagreement of sorts with a couple of agents from a fellow organisation, and may have gone against Champ’s direct orders in order to hinder them. I guess you could say I went rogue” he elaborated, intentionally trying to keep some of the finer details out. You had half a mind to push for more info, though after another seconds thought you decided against that idea and instead settled for nodding at him semi-sympathetically.  “I see. So...why are you here then?”. 

He didn’t answer you right away, rather finding himself to be staring straight upwards at the wooden beams on the ceiling above. You analysed his expression, trying to find any sort of hint towards what he was thinking. Your eyes kept being drawn back to that dried gash of blood across his cheek, and you winced at the thought of him being in any sort of prolonged pain. Maybe you should have fetched some medical supplies for him after all - knowing Jack and the way he was, he always liked to downplay the dangers associated with his job. Every time he wound up in Statesman’s medical wing needing some sort of bullet taken out of him he never once admitted to ever being in pain. Getting injured was part of the job, he always said, so it wasn’t worth it to worry over him everytime he got hurt in the line of duty. He was an expert at saying he was fine when it was all too clear that everything wasn’t. 

The sound of Jack sighing heavily pulled you from your thoughts, looking up to see him with his head in his hands, practically exhibiting every clear sign of tension in the book. A small part of you wanted to feel sorry for him, for seeing him like this. “Look, I realise this may be too much to ask of you, considering our history, and part of me hates that I have to in the first place but...I have nowhere else to go. I can’t go back home to either New York or Kentucky. I’m not an agent anymore, so I can’t ask any of them for help, and I’m almost a hundred percent sure that I’ve got some sort of bounty on my head now. I’m on the lam as they call it”  he prattled. “I need a place to hide out, to lay low while I sort some shit out”.

The day had already been weird enough already, hearing him ask for your help was only just the cherry on top. Blinking slowly and with your mouth hanging open in utter disbelief, you blurted out “Let me get this straight: you need my help?”.

“Just for a little while, and I promise, sweetheart, as soon as I’m able to I’ll be outta your hair” Jack assured, turning his eyes upwards to you so that you could see his lovely brown eyes, the very same ones that you felt yourself get lost in all those long years ago. “I would never ask this of you unless I had no other choice. You and I both know that”. 

You were at a complete loss for words. Between his tone and those frustratingly sweet eyes of his, you weighed your options carefully on what you should do. Should you let him stay with you? On one hand, with what he’d done to you years ago, something that still left you hurting even now, some part of you felt hostile towards him being around again. You remembered being young and 21, giving your heart out to him and only ever receiving empty promises in the end, leaving you with the painful memory of standing crestfallen on a flight of marbled stairs, on a night that you had sworn was gonna end with a ring ending instead with a shattered heart and never-ending glasses of merlot on your lips. Eventually, you’d learnt to live with the heartache. And pretty soon, for the most part, you’d forgotten. Seeing him there, tonight, in your living room of all places, was starting to bring those feelings back. No matter how hard you tried to stifle them, ignore them and focus on the matter at hand, you still felt the bitterness creep into your tone every time you opened your mouth.

Still, even though Jack had hurt you, you couldn’t just leave him out with nothing. From what he told you, he truly had nowhere else to run. If you threw him out now, he could be dead within hours. The mere thought of that made your heart sting, and despite any bad blood between you two you weren’t heartless, so with a small sigh, you at last settled on the answer you would give to him. “Alright. I’ll let you stay. On one condition though: you gotta help out a little with some of the ranch handling stuff. Once you’re all healed up from your injuries of course” you posited. “And don’t bother trying to butter me up, I’m not enough of an idiot to fall for your charms twice. I’m doing you a favour so it would be in your best interest to avoid pissing me off. You think you can handle that?”. 

He smirked back at you, though it was void of it’s usual playfulness and felt to be more out of sadness than anything resembling his usual jackassery. “You drive a hard bargain, sweetheart, but yeah, of course. I’d be more than happy to help ya out”. 

“Alright. Now…” you nodded at him before turning on your heel in the direction of the kitchen in search of some bandage and gauze for his injuries. “I am going to get you some medical supplies because even though you said you’re fine you clearly aren’t, and I’m not about to have you dropping dead in my goddamn living room. The blood would get all over the carpet and I ain’t lookin’ to pay to get it cleaned” you announced, dropping down to your knees and rifling through one of the lower kitchen cabinets for all the necessary items. 

You could hear him chuckle from the living room, imagining him to be wearing a more toned down version of that charming grin he always seemed to have on him. “Ah, you wound me, my dear girl. Where are your folks?”. 

His question made your heart seize in your chest, your hands grasped around the roll of bandage and bottle of antiseptic you’d scrounged out from the back of the cupboard. Rising to your feet, you stuttered on your words as you led yourself back into the living room with an arm full of different medical equipment. “They...they died a couple of years ago. It’s been just me for awhile” you answered back, doing your best to ignore the look of surprise that spread across Jack’s face. “I’m sorry to hear that, darlin’”.

Tearing off a strip of bandage, you motioned for him to give you his arm so that you could begin tending to some of the deeper cuts on him. “It’s ok. Well, not ok, really, but what can you do?” you murmured, brushing the length of his torn denim jacket out of the way and pressing down a dash of cold antiseptic cream across one of his cuts, watching as how he winced slightly from the sting. “Life goes on. It has to, or else you get left frozen”. Shaking your head, you began to tie the strip of fabric around his forearm, eager to get off the topic of your deceased loved ones as soon as possible. “I’ll put you up in the guest room upstairs. Don’t go through any of the shit in the cupboards, ok? It’s private stuff”. 

“I would never dream of doing so, sugar”.

“Good. Lucky for you, none of these gashes seem too bad so they’ll most likely heal within a couple of days. I’ll just put a bit of adhesive over that awful one you got across your cheek and you’ll be right as rain in no time” you said, popping open the box of adhesive bandages. 

Jack smiled at you, albeit weakly as you smoothed the bandage over his cheek. “Thank you for doing this for me. I mean it. Honestly, I didn’t think you were even gonna let me stay here”. 

You shot him an odd look at that comment, leaning back down to pick up the various bits of first aid paraphernalia off the floor to deposit back onto the coffee table. “What do you take me for, Jack? I ain’t a cold hearted bitch. I hate you for what you did but I don’t want you to die or anything” you quipped, staring at him straight in the eyes as you said those words. Not allowing him a second to respond, you turned away and began to walk off towards the stairs, starting to feel the exhaustion of the day sink in once again when you placed your foot on the first rung.“You’re all good to go. I’d say go upstairs and get some rest, lord knows that’s what I’ll be doing. If you need anything give me a shout ok?”. 

He nodded back at you wordlessly, abruptly turning away afterwards the lean against the couch with his back turned to you, lost back in his own thoughts. You allowed your gaze to linger on him for a moment longer then dragged yourself up the stairs and towards your bedroom, flicking off the hallway lights as you went. In an instant after you heard the click of your bedroom door shut behind you, you allowed yourself to groan out in agony at your entire predicament. So, your ex-boyfriend is on the run and hiding out in your house. This could prove to be interesting...

[phasmwrites]

safe with me || bakugou katsuki

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Female!Reader Warnings: Body Injuries, Mild Violence, Angst Word Count: 1841 Prompt: “I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.” A/N: This was a prompt request from a lovely anon! I hope u like it friend💖 I added a word into the sentence prompt I hope that’s okay 👉👈 I promise this is also fluffy!!

When you become a pro-hero, it means that you accept and understand the risks that come with the profession; you must be fully aware of the chances of getting severely injured on the job, or even worse. 

“Ground Zero!” Bakugou’s current sidekick shouted as he sprinted through the debris over to the hero, desperately trying to catch his breath, “It’s Y/H/N!” 

You and your husband, Bakugou Katsuki, knew what you were both getting into when you decided to become heroes. It was through this profession that the two of you met one another in the first place. 

“What about her?” Bakugou’s own breaths were labored as he restrained the villain below him, digging his boot further into the criminal’s back to keep them docile. 

Years upon years of intense training would never prepare Bakugou for the emotional turmoil his sidekick was about to throw in his direction. 

“She’s- she’s…” The young hero mumbled, cowering at the harsh glare directed at him. 

Bakugou narrowed his eyebrows further and gritted his teeth, “Spit it out!” 

“She’s been taken to the nearest hospital-” 

The moment the word hospital was uttered from his sidekick’s lips, Bakugou’s face visibly dropped along with his palpitating heart.

“Keep this fucker on the ground until the cops come. Are there anymore villains not restrained?” Bakugou waited for the young man to shake his head, “Good, if anyone asks where I went tell them to fuck off.”

It was on this day that the heroes reigned triumph once more in the fight against the villains, but Bakugou no longer cared about basking in his glory. His primary concern was finding out why he was receiving sympathetic glances from the nurses when he rushed through the hospital doors. 

During your battle with one of the villains, you had noticed a small family huddled up hopelessly clinging to one another as the front of their apartment had been entirely decimated. You did the one thing Bakugou had always admired about you, which was rushing towards the family and aiding them in their evacuation. 

Though you abandoned the fight for your sidekick to handle in your place, you failed to notice that they had fallen unconscious. It was then that you were promptly tossed into the nearest building by the mutation quirk-handling villain. The last thing you could remember was the agonizing pain your body suffered from the impact before you passed out, too. 

Once Bakugou reached the door that held you inside, the doctors informed your husband that you suffered severe injuries to both of your legs along with shattered ribs and collarbone. It would take extraneous amounts of physical therapy and rest for your legs to properly heal from the emergency surgery, putting you out of commission for anything hero-related indefinitely. 

The sobs that wracked through your aching chest were sounds Bakugou wished he could burn from his memory. Although the moonlight casted beautifully into your hospital bedroom on most nights, it did nothing but expose your tear-stricken complexion and bloodshot eyes to the ash-blonde who spent every night by your side. 

After many weeks isolated in a hospital room, you had finally received approval from the doctor to finish your recovery in the comfort of your own home. Your husband was more than thrilled to bring you home; he hoped that a new environment would aid in your healing. 

“Welcome home, baby.” Bakugou murmured as he held you close to his chest, pressing a delicate kiss against your temple. The wheelchair he had ordered for you hadn’t arrived on time, but he was more than content carrying you wherever you asked of him. 

The first thing you noticed when the two of you entered your home was how pristine it was, “You cleaned up.”

“Yeah...” Bakugou shrugged, “The place was an absolute shithole and I’ve had some free time when I’m not at the hospital with you.” 

When his agency got word of your incident, they insisted he step away from hero duties for a short while until you got back on your own two feet. It infuriated the hot-headed blonde at first, but he also refused to abandon you when you needed him the most. 

“What do you want to do?” He asked while setting his car keys on the nearest table.

You took a moment to contemplate, “Can you draw me a bath? I still feel gross from the hospital...”

So he did just that as he stepped into the bathroom, setting you down on the counter and allowing your legs to dangle over the edge. Bakugou took his time in unraveling your bandages, remembering the strict instructions he was given from the “annoying” nurses. 

“Katsuki?” Your voice was so hushed he nearly missed it, “Do you think my legs are ugly?”

He wanted to laugh aloud at the absurdity of your question, but harshly bit his tongue to keep you from getting the wrong impression. Sure, your legs were swollen with excess water retention and now scarred from surgery, but he didn’t find you any less beautiful than you were before. 

“How the hell can legs be ugly? They’re beautiful, just like you.” The last of the bandages collapsed into a puddle below you as he returned to the tub to make sure it wasn’t too hot for you. You watched as he stepped back over to you and aided you in removing the rest of your clothing, gathering you in his arms to slowly set you into the large white tub. 

The warm water instantly relaxed your muscles, your eyes fluttering closed in bliss, “Thank you, Katsuki.”

“Tch, it’s not a big deal.” He brushed your gratitude off, “I’m going to start on dinner, yell for me if you need me.” Before he truly left you to your own devices he pressed his lips to your forehead again and made sure you could reach anything you needed.  

While preparing your favorite meal, Bakugou hoped that returning home would help bring back the normalcy you desired from your time in the hospital. He himself desperately craved to see the sparkle in your eyes that had undoubtedly vanished since the incident. 

He had gotten so swept up in his thoughts and finishing his cooking that he didn’t originally hear you crying from the bathroom. When your sobs finally reached his ears though, the large spoon he had been using clattered to the ground and his legs rushed him over to your aid. 

“Hey, what the hell happened-” Bakugou slammed the ajar door fully open, his own heart crumbling at the sight of you so distraught. 

Tears streamed down your cheekbones, mixing into the soapy bathwater. Your bottom lip trembled at the sight of your husband until your sobbing transitioned into broken wails of anguish. Collapsing onto his knees next to the tub, Bakugou ignored the dull ache from the impact and gathered your face into his large palms.

“Y/N, it’s okay, come on, I got you baby…” His voice was the softest you had ever heard in your entire life, his eyebrows furrowing as his gaze met yours, “Come on, tell me what’s wrong, please?” 

Your cries slowly silenced, dulling into small hiccups as you tried to catch your breath. Bakugou waited patiently for you, using one hand to caress your tear-stained cheek and the other to rub comforting circles into your shoulder. 

“S-Sometimes…” You stammered, trying to collect your abundance of thoughts into words, “Sometimes my mind...it brings me back to being tossed into the building and I just feel all of that pain again and- and holy shit it hurts so bad…”

If you had continued to maintain contact with Bakugou rather than stare into the tub, you would have noticed the tears that silently rolled down his own complexion. Being empathetic wasn’t something Bakugou was known for, but seeing the woman he loved with his entire being so broken and traumatized...it was almost too much for him. 

Following a brief silence, Bakugou stood back up as you watched him wipe his eyes and begin to disrobe his tank top and sweatpants. Once bare he gently nudged you forward so that he could slip his large figure behind you. He curled his muscular arms around your middle, your back now comfortably pressed into his chest. 

“I won’t let anyone hurt you again, you’re safe with me.” Reaching for your hand, he began to toy with the wedding band on your ring finger as a silent reminder of his vows to you only six months ago.  

You brought your now intertwined fingers up to your chest, holding his hand close to your heart, “The doctor’s warned me that I may not be able to return to being a hero...I don’t even know if I could…” 

“Listen, you can do whatever you want, baby.” Bakugou took his hands back, but only to begin massaging shampoo into your damp scalp, “I’ll support the fuck out of you no matter what choice you make.” 

“B-But being the top heroes was our dream…” Your bottom lip trapped itself between your teeth, feeling as if you failed both yourself and your partner. 

You were slightly surprised to hear Bakugou scoff, “You want to know my other dream? Starting a family with the love of my goddamn life.”

“Katsuki-” 

“I know I’m awful at romance, alright?” You went to protest but he interrupted you for a second time, “I know the kind of person I am, but I also know that somehow you still chose to marry me and support me. If you’re no longer a hero, that doesn’t change how I feel about you because I also made that decision to support you...until death do us part or however the fuck the saying goes.”

He began to rinse out of the suds in your hair when you leaned further into his chest, “You mentioned starting a family…”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind a little mini-me causing a bit of chaos in our life one day.” You could sense that he was smirking at the concept, one of his large hands pressing against your stomach as if he were imagining it already. 

It was uncomfortable, but you tilted yourself back far enough so that you could look into Bakugou’s vermilion eyes, watching the way his gaze softened when they met yours. 

What was meant to be a tender moment between the two of you was promptly ended by your next words, “You’re pretty soft, Bakugou Katsuki.”

“I’m not soft! Shitty fucking woman.” He sunk further into the tub behind you, sulking childishly as your laughter rang out through the room. Even if your giggles were a direct result of teasing him, he’d let you do it forever just to keep that vibrant smile from never leaving your lips again.

It would be a rough while for you to fully heal from both the mental and physical trauma you endured, but you knew that you could take on anything as long as you had Bakugou by your side.

[dashhoney25]

Mine

--hello darlings! I am so honored & pleased to introduce my collab with @soufcakmistress​ , this beautiful gem right here is a freaking QUEEN! It’s such a pleasure to write with her and we cannot wait to bless ya’ll with this right here! I only act a fool when she comes around and trust me ya’ll are in for a treat! This is @soufcakmistress​ world right now and I’m just living in it! The plot is so 90′s yet still modern, and of course what’s a story without Erik? Tune in to find out what Erik’s got Noelle & Remi entangled into!

WARNINGS: SMUT; GIRL ON GIRL (Ya’ll, this is pretty hot if I do say so myself.I’m not into chicks, but I give credit when due, this chapter is hot!) 

Don’t forget to LIKE, COMMENT, & REBLOG

*click hyperlink to find out who “her” is*

The millions of nerve endings in your body were intensified by the sensation as the neurons in your brain attempted to register the exhilarating dual stimulation. Your tipsy eyes fluttered as your mouth formed a permanent “O”. Sensual moans filled the room as your eyes struggled to stay focused on the scandalous site before you. With your body in her arms while she held the back of your thighs by your ears, Erik pounded away at your hidden desire as your toes curled to the ceiling. Your head fell back into her chest, looking up to see her smiling at you seductively. Biting your bottom lip, she leaned down to kiss you, tongue wrestling with you while you caressed her neck. Low grunts ensued between you as she bit your lip in between kisses. Still holding your legs for support, she lowered your right leg onto Erik’s shoulder and wrapped her hands around you to pleasure your clit, teasing you.

“Mhmmm” you let out pulling away from the kiss. Grinning in delight, she licked the right side of your neck, sucking it passionately, moving her hand from your clit to your hardened nipples. “Fuck” you breathed out. Still stroking away, Erik’s eyes fell on the two of you as you turned your head to kiss her. Erik bit his bottom lip and raised his brow enjoying the sight. “You know you gotta share right?” He interjected. She pulled away from you, “Sorry” she grinned looking at Erik. “Now where were we?” Erik asked as he watched her move to the back of the bed. Your eyes fell on him and he entered your roughly, kissing you hungrily as he laid your body into the bed. Your hands made a mess of his dreads as your body was building up momentum to his harsh strokes, yanking your body up behind all of his power. You were feeling the impact of 9 inches of hard dick repeatedly stretching your pussy out indefinitely. Clawing at Erik’s back as his dick massages your tight folds, it made you even wetter knowing that you had an audience; an attractive one at that watching you.

You’d never been involved in a situation like this, especially not sober. You’d never been with a woman, not even a simple kiss. Your straight laced demeanor and good girl image was tainted tonight with the aid of liquid courage, and a strong milk chocolate man to guide you down this seductive charade of a rabbit hole; leaving your inhibitions up to free will. Standing 5’4 with caramel skin, her curves were immaculate whether heaven sent or Dr. Miami gifted her silhouette was alluring. Her perfectly crafted body consisted of tattoos in various locations, but the tattoo that was most appealing was the butterfly on her right ass cheek. Your eyes landed on her as Erik folded your body to his comfort, penetrating your swollen nub incessantly while kissing your body. Pulling at the covers you couldn’t contain your moans, arching your back you pulled her foot by mistake causing you to get a better view. With her pearl exposed, she was in fact getting off to watching you and Erik get it on in front of her. She caressed her naked body roughly, hastily rubbing her clit as fast as she could to reach her peak. This alone peaked your curiosity. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of her, a physical representation of what self pleasure embodied, with Erik continuously stuffing himself inside of you, your body erupted an intense orgasm that rocked your body with conviction.

Unknowingly, the three of you came together in unison coming down from a high. Erik removed himself from you and walked away to the bathroom. She on the other hand, climbed on top of you, straddled you, and ran her hands through your hair caressing your face, kissing you passionately. Not thinking twice, your hands landed on her back, traveling down to her waist, and lastly a firm grip to her ass; cupping her tattoo. You couldn’t get enough of this feeling, feeling her smile against your lips in between kisses. She managed to flick at your clit, evoking soft whimpers from your lips. “Good girl”, her sultry voice let out. Within minutes, she found your sweet spot, that sensual spot that only Erik could touch, she found what made you gush instantly. With a quick squeeze of your clit and a bite to your nipple, a puddle ensued underneath as a result of endless pleasure. Erik walked in with a pair of joggers on with a smirk on his face, watching how you looked at her smiling, he couldn’t believe that his plan went off without a hitch. Though he was happy, he was growing quite jealous of the bond you two were forming. Clearing his throat, you two looked at him and she removed herself from your lap. “I see you’ve shown her a good time” Erik stated. “I hope so” she said getting out of bed, winking at you. She threw on her lingerie, dress and heels and headed for the door. Erik followed her to the door handing her a wad of money. You two locked eyes for a moment before she walked out the door.

**

Getting out of bed, I threw on my black silk robe as Erik walked over to the bar cart. Erik fixed a shot glass of Don Julio and handed it to me. Taking it, I scrunched my face at him. “Let me get mine” he stated as he poured himself a shot. “To a great night!” Erik stated as his shot glass collided with mine. Taking the shot, my face scrunched in disgust and I got out of bed and placed the empty shot glass on the bar cart. I opened the screen door and stood out on the rooftop. Motioning for Erik to come to me, I placed my arms around his neck, looking in his eyes as he held my waist. “Who would’ve thought huh?” He questioned. “Thought what?” I asked smiling. “That you’d be so be so ‘free’, didn’t think you had it in you” he chuckled smacking my ass. I rolled my eyes “It was just the liquor, I don’t get down like that” I replied looking away, ashamed to say the least. Erik lifted my chin to get my attention “It’s okay.” He smiled revealing his dimples. “It’s okay to admit you like pussy on occasions. I mean, you could’ve fooled me, shorty was definitely feeling you” Erik teased. You pulled away from him annoyed that he was amused at your newfound hidden treasure. “Don’t be like that Noelle, I’m just talking” he says walking towards me. “How’d you know I’d go through with it anyway?” You asked. “I didn’t. But, after spending so much time with you, I figured you’d be the type to try something at least once” he admitted. You scoffed in displeasure. “Erik!” I objected. “I like this new you way better. Remember when we met that night at the club? You had just gotten off work, you were upset about a submission being rejected and you talked to me the entire night at the bar about it. And ever since then, and every night after, you’ve spent thrilling nights with me” he consoled, walking behind you wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Damn you still remember that?” I questioned with a smile to my face, not realizing how much Erik really pays attention to you. “How could I forget Elle? You were too drunk to drive home. I didn’t feel comfortable with you leaving in an Uber that night. You threw up in the front seat of my Maserati. You cried the whole way to my place insisting you’d buy me a new car” Erik laughed. “I haven’t been able to get rid of your stuck up ass since!” He said with a kiss to my cheek. Turning to meet his gaze I toyed with his dreads as we shifted around the rooftop under the night sky. “Never thought you’d be the type to go for a girl in corporate anyway.” You admitted. “It’s a kink of mine, a fantasy of some sort” he embellished. “Shut up!” I replied hitting him in the chest. Our moment of laughter subsided as silence fell upon us. Exhaling I couldn’t believe that I had been so lucky to have met such a perfect man. Erik was edgy, he could be a romantic but he’d make you work for it. Erik was a businessman, and part time trainer. In my eyes he was a jack of all trades, the perfect catch to my damsel in distress facade.

“I need to tell you something” Erik interrupted, “Whats up?” I asked. “I’ve gotta go out of town tomorrow for a business trip” he said. “For how long?” I asked rubbing his arms. Erik looked at me uneasy, “3 weeks” he said. My eyes widened “Erik! Come on, you promised you wouldn’t be away like this anymore!” I whined, walking away from him. “I know, I know baby but duty calls” Erik said taking my hand. “The last time you were gone for a month, and I couldn’t take it” I said pulling away, walking back into the penthouse.

“Why would you spring it on me like this so sudden?!” I questioned. “Because, if I would’ve told you ahead of time, you wouldn’t have come out tonight! I know how you get when I leave” he huffed. I rolled my eyes and folded my arms in my chest, “Can you blame me?!” I asked. “Yeah I can, because if the shoe were on the other foot I would be by your side on your last day!” Erik argued. “Baby, who’s gonna pay for this penthouse? My Maserati? What about that diamond necklace around your neck? You know I gotta work” Erik continued. “I have my own money Erik. I don’t care if you buy me expensive things” I snapped, removing my black silk robe.

“You know I want my baby in the best there is. Don’t do me like that.” Erik concluded. Ignoring his comment I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. My feelings were shaken over the fact that Erik was leaving tomorrow, and he’s just now telling me. We’ve had such a great day but I feel like such a fool for involving myself in a scandalous situation with a beautiful stranger. To top it off, what am I supposed to do now knowing that my coming nights will be spent lonely and uneventful without his touch?

As the water cascaded down my body, my thoughts were interrupted by a cool breeze in the shower. “Couldn’t wait for me?” Erik asked playfully joining me. I glared at him and proceeded to apply the shower gel to my pouf under the water. “Let me get that for you” he said taking the pouf from my hand, forming bubbles with his hands, and applying the pouf to my body, cleaning me. “You know you can’t stay mad at me all night Princess” Erik smiled, grabbing my waist with one arm continuing to lather my body with the bubbly pouf.

“I’m not with that Princess shit tonight. I should’ve known something was up. You always get extra sweet with me when you’re about to leave Erik!” I snapped. Erik stopped bathing me, “Noelle there’s gonna be times where we’re not going to see each other and it’s okay. It’s just three weeks, stop actin’” Erik snapped. I snatched the pouf out of his hands and stood under the water, finishing my shower. “Whatever Erik. You just make sure you don’t give me a reason to pull up” I remarked, now rinsing my body.

“Pull up? Who are you?” Erik said gruffly walking over to me. His hand met the side of my face, gently caressing it “Don’t tempt me Princess” he warned flashing his gold grills. The way he looked at me, it lit a fire inside of my body. I couldn’t help but get turned on at his aggressive demeanor. Without a doubt, Erik always kept his word and I need not ask questions. “I’ll do what I have to do. Don’t be out here embarrassing me” I replied stepping away from him, exiting the shower. I dried off and massaged my skin in coconut body oil. I walked into Erik’s closet and grabbed a t-shirt to sleep in. Climbing into bed, I grabbed my phone and noticed I had an Instagram DM from someone named “Lex 🦋” I was tempted to check it, but decided not to considering my time is now limited with Erik. Locking my phone I placed my phone back on the nightstand and snuggled under the covers waiting for him to get out of the shower.

Erik walked into the bedroom with a towel around his waist. He grabbed my bottle of coconut oil and massaged it into his skin. Erik sat on the bed in front of me, handing me the bottle “Do you mind?” He questioned with a quick shake of his dreads. I giggled as the droplets of water hit against my skin. Squiring oil into my hands I massaged the the oil into Erik’s strong back and shoulders. My hands caressed his neck I slowly leaned against his back with my arms wrapped around his neck. “I don’t like fighting with you” I whispered. “Neither do I” he replied lowly. There was something tender about this moment as I embraced Erik. This would be our second time apart and quite frankly, the more time I spent with him, the more attached I’ve become.

Erik pulled me into his lap and  stared at me. “I’m doing what I gotta do for us. Don’t ever think that I’m not keeping you in mind. Hopefully I won’t have to be away like this for much longer” he said before kissing me. I wrapped arms around his neck deepening the kiss as my tongue invaded his lips gladly accepting my offer. Breaking the kiss, Erik leaned down and grabbed the bottle of coconut oil and placed it on the nightstand. Leaving his embrace, I crawled into bed and turned off the lamp on the nightstand on my side of the bed. Erik stood to his feet as the towel dropped from his body and climbed into bed hovering over me.

“I hate it when you’re mad at me” he whispered kissing my forehead. My hands caressed his face and I placed soft kisses to his lips. Lifting the shirt over my head, Erik buried his face into my chest, placing soft kisses and love marks on my nipples. Low groans left my lips as I watched his kisses trail down to my warm center. Grinning, Erik stuck his tongue out playfully licking the outside of my nub anticipating my reaction. I couldn’t help but cackle loudly at his childish behavior. “Oh come on!” I laughed. My laughter was soon replaced with moans as Erik’s tongue separated my folds. My bottom lip tucked between my lips, all I could do was hiss at the sensation that his tongue provided to my clit. Erik wasn’t afraid to get messy, his hands pried my lips back to reveal my succulent, swollen clit. My breathing became hitched as his tongue zig zagged, and flickered against me while he sucked me dry. My sensitive nerve endings triggered a lightning bolt sensation in my left leg as he inserted three fingers inside my tight hole. “Fuckkk!” I groaned as my back arched. I was strokes away from creaming all over this man. With the combination of sucking, licking and pounding to my pussy, Erik’s technique was unmatched, he sent an earth shattering orgasm to my body causing my body to contort in angles.

Erik hovered over me smiling, his lips were juicy from my folds. Sitting up on my elbows I pulled him into a kiss to taste myself. Moaning on his lips, I was now ready for a dick down. Placing my feet on his shoulders, Erik lined himself up at my entrance. Slowly, he filled me, but I was greedy and I wanted as much as my pussy could muster. Before I could utter a word, Erik plunged into me causing me to gasp. The surprise to my body resulted in a slick smile. “Freaky ass” Erik cooed. “For you daddy” i remarked seductively. To Erik, Daddy was the code word for Say Less, and before I knew it his dick took me to heights unknown and my pussy took every stroke with pleasure. Dick like this was a privilege to receive, a gift I dare not take for granted. Erik made sure that I wouldn’t forget this night, this dick, or anymore moments hereafter. I don’t think there would be any luck in saving these sheets, the amount of times I’ve squirted and accepted his seed, were endless. My cries could’ve been heard all over LA tonight and I didn’t care as long as I was with him.

**

The drive to your luxury condo was silent. After such an eventful night, there wasn’t anything else left to say. Asking Erik to stay wasn’t an option. You were never the type to come between a man and his money, but something pulled on your heart strings that something about this business trip was off. This would be the second time that Erik would tell you last minute that he was going away. It was too early and too soon to insist that this is just how Erik is, or if the business trip was a spur of the moment thing from his job. Whatever it is, you hoped he was right, maybe it would be over soon and you two would never be apart again.

Erik pulled into the driveway and grabbed your bag for you. Walking you inside he placed your bag on the couch and stared at you. “Come on Noelle, I don’t wanna be late. Come kiss me goodbye” he said standing there looking lonely. You glared at him, still upset. You made a pitiful stride over to Erik and wrapped your arms around him. “Come here Princess” he spoke softly against your ear pulling you into a kiss. His hands roamed your ass with a good squeeze. He looked in your eyes and smiled, “I promise I won’t be gone long.” He said with another kiss. “Call Lex to keep you company until I get back.” He smirked. “That was a one time thing” you whined rolling your eyes feeling a tantrum coming on. “You have my permission, it’ll make the time pass by. It’ll make you think about me while I’m away” he encouraged pulling you back into his embrace. Lifting your chin to him Erik kissed you passionately. “And whatever you two get into while I’m away, you better FaceTime me that shit” he chuckled. You groaned in annoyance, “I just want you to have some fun while I’m away. You’ll always be mine, so don’t give my shit to nobody else but her, if you must. So when I get back I can show you who’s the King around here” Erik teased seductively kissing you again. “But I gotta go, I’ll call you when I land Princess” Erik says with a final kiss goodbye.

As the door closed behind him, loneliness began to settle in. These past 5 weeks have been been phenomenal and now you hadn’t a clue of what to do with yourself. You walked over to the door and locked it and pulled your phone out of your pocket to call your homegirl Remi. It’s been a while since you two have spoken considering your hectic work schedules and your nightly rendezvous with Erik, you seemed to have neglected your best friend. Unbeknownst to Remi, she wasn’t quite up to speed on your love life let alone your newfound hidden secret.

As you and Remi talked on the phone, you connected your iPhone to your AirPods to multitask on your phone. You pulled up Instagram and decided to respond back to the DM from Lex 🦋. Scrolling through pictures it was quite clear that this was the beautiful stranger from last night. Replying to her DM made you nervous as your thoughts ran wild thinking about last night. Your thoughts were interrupted by Remi yelling at you, she hated when she felt she was being ignored. Remi was the total opposite of you, you were reserved and a bit of an introvert. You had a type A personality whereas Remi was outgoing and very blunt.

Remi was the epitome of a social butterfly, she knew no stranger and will tell it like it is if she had to. Not to mention she would fuck a bitch up if a bitch got crazy. Calming Remi down reassuring her that you were listening to her story, you decided to take Erik up on his offer. You didn’t want to speak too soon and tell him, but maybe this would get your mind off of him being away for now.. you decided to be bold and exchanged numbers with Lex, minutes later as the conversation continued you dropped location for her to pull up. Placing your phone on the coffee table you continued talking to Remi through your AirPods while you poured yourself a glass of wine. Remi always joked with you saying you were too boujee for liquor, she hated coming to your condo knowing you only had wine to drink. You two began to debate over which alcoholic beverage would give you the biggest buzz comparing brown vs white and then liquor vs wine. Before you knew it a shouting match ensured followed by a lot of cackling.

A knock came to the door, interrupting your conversation “Hold on Rem, there’s someone at the door” you say still holding your glass of wine. “Girl it’s probably the neighbors, you know you don’t have company!” Remi joked. “Shut up heffa” you reply unlocking the door keeping the chain on the door. There she was, Lex 🦋  . Your heart skipped a beat. “Um Rem, I think there’s something going on with the neighbors. Lemme call you back sis” you say “Stay outta other folks business!” Remi yells.

Double tapping the AirPod you hung up on Remi and placed the buds in your pocket. “Just a second” you call out. Closing the door quickly, you undid the chain lock on your door and opened the door to let her in. “Erik said I’d be hearing from you” she said walking in. Closing and locking the door behind her, you took a sip of wine and smiled. “Would you like a glass?” You asked.

@soufcakmistress​ @liilbougievert​ @honeyandpeaches​ @goddessofthundathighs​ @nahimjustfeelingit-writes​ @thehomierobbstark​ @mochaxmars​ @harleycativy​ @blackpinup22​ @19jammmy​ @mbjfangirl​ @browngirldominion​ @woahitslucyylu​ @loudcowboylawyertree​ @bigchoose​ @uzumaki-rebellion​ @nizzle-mo @luvwitoutlimit1​ @honeytoffee​

[litwitlady]

this godforsaken mess

Read on AO3.

Warnings: Casual homophobia/biphobia - angst

Angst Prompt #1 - ‘I don’t love you anymore.’

I don’t love you anymore, I don’t love you anymore, I don’t love you anymore. Alex recites the words in his head over and over again, hoping that at some point in the very near future he’ll believe them. But the clock is ticking and the sound of an old Chevy engine is growing louder by the second.

Michael pulls into Alex’s driveway and shuts his engine off. Alex stands in front of him, haloed by his headlights. They stare at each other through the windshield for far too long before Michael opens his door and slides out of the truck. It’s been one week since they last saw each other. And nearly eight since they’ve properly spoken.

Alex stuffs his hands in his pockets. ‘Thanks for doing this on such short notice.’ He doesn’t wait for a response, just turns his back to Michael and walks to his Explorer. It was supposed to be Forrest with him tonight, but he’d been called away to New York on book business. Finding a replacement date at 5:30 pm on a Friday afternoon proved impossible, until he’d done the unthinkable and called Michael.

He’d wanted to cancel - had dialed his CO’s number multiple times without pressing send. Alex had turned her down so many times before that canceling last minute seemed rude and childish and possibly ruinous to his career. But showing up dateless to a dinner party with several other couples seemed ruinous to his mental health, so he’d called everyone in his contacts list.

This whole night promises to end in disaster. He looks up as Michael walks towards the passenger side of his SUV and notices for the first time what he’s wearing. Or more accurately, what he’s not wearing. There’s no audacious belt buckle, no cowboy hat, no grease anywhere he can see. His jeans are new - dark wash denim and so perfectly snug that Alex wonders if they’ve been tailored. And instead of his usual button-up, Michael’s in a v-neck sweater - black cashmere from the looks of it. How Isobel got him to wear any of this is beyond Alex’s comprehension. ‘You look good.’

Michael shuts the door and stares at him. ‘Isobel forced me into Max’s clothes. The sweater’s itchy and the jeans are too long.’ He glances down to where the ends of his pants are cuffed. Same old worn boots on his feet. 

That tiny piece of Michael makes Alex smile. ‘But not the boots, huh?’

‘Over my dead body.’ Michael risks smiling back. ‘You look good, too. But you always look good.’

Alex has to force himself to drag his eyes away, distracting himself with turning his key in the ignition. ‘Again, Michael. Thank you so much.’ The engine roars to life. ‘It’s more than I had any right to ask.’

‘No more apologies. Just fill me in on what I need to know to survive the night. She’s your boss, right?’ He pulls down the sun visor, messing with his hair while avoiding catching his own eye in the mirror. 

‘Commanding Officer, yes. Major Denise Williams. Her husband’s name is Dan. There will be several other couples there - none of them military. All of them heterosexual. Everyone knows I’m gay and in a relationship. You’re a friend helping out last minute.’ Alex hopes none of the small talk ventures too close to their past. But the fear pooling in his stomach knows they’re going to be asked several uncomfortable questions. 

‘Are we ex-lovers or do we avoid that entirely?’ Michael flips the sun visor shut and turns his gaze out the window. ‘To be honest, Alex. I’m not in the mood to lie.’

‘No lying. I loved you and you loved me. It didn’t work. We’re trying to be friends.’ The air in the SUV thickens. Michael shifts in the leather seat, crossing his ankles. ‘Hopefully, that will make the conversation awkward enough to shut everyone up.’

Michael nods and returns his focus outside. The rest of the drive is silent. Not even the radio filling the spaces between them.

The Major’s house is modest in size but well-tended. The yard mostly rock except for the occasional plot of prettily landscaped desert flowers and shrubbery. One large pinyon pine anchoring the space and providing a fair amount of late afternoon shade. Alex parks on the street behind a Subaru and cuts the engine. ‘You ready?’

‘I hope that’s a rhetorical question.’ Michael opens his door and slides out. Waits for Alex to walk around and join him. ‘You and I both know we aren’t ready for this.’ They share a meaningful look and step together towards the front door.

Alex raises a finger to press the doorbell, but the door swings open before he gets the chance. ‘Captain Manes, so good to see you again.’ Dan Williams extends his hand which Alex shakes. 

‘You too, Dan. This is my friend, Michael Guerin.’ He motions to Michael who also extends his hand.

‘Nice to meet you, Michael. Come inside, you two. Denise is in the kitchen with our other guests.’ They cross the threshold and follow Dan into the kitchen, taking in their surroundings as they go. Michael making sure to note any exits in case a quick getaway is needed. Alex smirks at him, knowing exactly what he’s up to.

‘No crawling out of any windows, please,’ he mutters under his breath. 

Michael smirks back at him. ‘No promises.’

‘Alex!’ A middle-aged blond woman greets them, lipsticked grin spread wide across her face and not at all what Michael had expected. She’s happily plump and her warmth radiates throughout the room. ‘And you must be Michael.’

‘Thank you for inviting us, Major. We got you a little something.’ He hands her a bottle of wine. ‘Dan texted me your favorite brand.’ 

She takes the bottle of Cabernet and pulls him into a hug. ‘No Major or Captain tonight. Just Denise and Alex. And thank you for the wine. I can be quite the lush when I’m off duty.’ She winks and Michael cannot believe this woman is in the Air Force. ‘Now come meet everyone.’

Denise introduces them to two other couples. Mark and Silvia who are close to Michael and Alex’s age. Bobby and Tally who are about ten years older. Everyone is pleasant and polite, spending most of the conversation focused on discussing the Williams’ bathroom rehab and their desire to put a pool in next summer. Michael gladly accepts a beer and Alex takes a glass of wine. They keep to the edges of the conversation, rarely offering more than a nod or a hum of agreement.

Somewhere along the way, they subconsciously press together - shoulder to hip. Oblivious until Tally smiles at them and asks the first devastating question of the night. ‘How long have you two been dating?’

Michael and Alex leap apart from each other like they’ve been burned. Alex cuts his eyes to Denise who steps in to save them. ‘I’m sorry, Alex. I forgot to inform everyone before you arrived.’ She turns to the group. ‘Alex’s boyfriend had to go out of town last minute. Michael is a good friend giving up his Friday evening to save Alex from facing us alone.’

Alex smiles his thanks and exchanges a look with Michael. ‘We used to date. In high school, mostly. Never worked out.’ It’s a version of the truth.

‘So, you’re both gay?’ Mark asks, innocently. Sipping at his own glass of wine.

‘I’m bisexual, actually.’ Michael answers, hiding his annoyance with a practiced ease.

The oven timer buzzes and Dan claps his hands. ‘Dinner’s ready. Everyone go grab a seat at the table.’ He shuffles everyone but Michael and Alex into the dining room. 

Denise pulls the roast chicken from the oven and then takes them aside. ‘I’m so sorry. That whole conversation was my fault. I should have explained everything before you arrived. I guess I know why you’ve been avoiding this for so long, Alex.’

Alex does his best to fake a smile. ‘It’s okay, Major. I’ve handled worse.’ 

Dan returns to grab the chicken. Denise moves to follow him out of the kitchen. ‘Take a breather. Join us when you’re ready.’ She pats both of them on the arm and disappears.

‘I’m so sorry. We can leave it you want. She’d never hold it against me.’ He mindlessly gathers a fistful of Michael’s shirt and starts to tug him towards the front door. ‘I can text her from outside.’

Michael grabs hold of his waist. ‘Hey, stop. I’m okay. We’re okay. Like you said, we’ve handled way worse. Casual homophobia with a side of biphobia tainted with a shitload of ignorance? Piece of cake.’

That earns him a small smile. ‘Casual bigotry always feels particularly heinous.’ 

Neither is sure how they end up with their arms wrapped around each other, but regardless, that’s where they land. Hugged tightly together in a strange kitchen. The moment oddly intimate and entirely devoid of sex. They take a long moment to breathe one another in and relax. ‘I like Denise. I bet she’s a good boss. Not at all what I’d imagined.’ 

Reluctantly, Alex pulls away. He has trouble meeting Michael’s eye, standing so close. ‘She is a good boss. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t want to mix the professional with the personal. But everyone in my unit has been to one of her dinners. I couldn’t keep saying no.’

‘And it was supposed to be Forrest with you. The incredibly charming boyfriend who never lets anything ruffle his feathers. And who can spend endless hours talking about his research in a way that makes everyone swoon.’ Michael rolls his eyes good-naturedly.  

‘Maybe you could regale them with your expertise on rebuilding engines. Or applied mathematics. Drug them all to sleep with your brilliance.’ Michael laughs loudly and from out of nowhere Alex wants to kiss him. Rarely has he ever wanted to kiss anyone so desperately. He white knuckles the counter behind him to keep himself from taking a step further, palms sweating and heart racing. I don’t love you anymore, I don’t love you anymore, I don’t love you anymore.

The chant hadn’t worked at the beginning of the night and it’s not working now.

Michael tilts his head towards the dining room. ‘Let’s go eat.’

Dinner goes well, the food is excellent. Alex and Michael get to fade into the background for a while as talk returns to home repair and upcoming travel plans. A little extra alcohol doesn’t hurt either. Alex notices they both drink enough to get a decent buzz going and to calm their nerves. Everyone at the table well ahead of them anyway. Alex is pretty positive the Air Force would frown upon his CO plying him with so much free booze, but he’s not planning on telling anyone so he takes another sip of wine.

Eventually, Silvia turns to Alex. ‘Denise tells us that you’re dating Forrest Long. I’ve seen him around town and know he’s helping his uncle out on the farm. How did you two meet?’

He can feel Michael bristle next to him. But there’s nothing he can do about that and his answer’s certainly not going to help either. ‘Through Michael, actually. They got to know each other at the local library, fighting over the microfiche reader.’

‘Oh, that’s so interesting. What were you researching at the library, Michael? If you don’t mind my asking, of course.’ Everyone turns their attention to Michael, and Alex mentally chastises himself. 

‘Nothing special. Some family history and the 1947 UFO crash. Forrest was doing the same for his book.’ They all nod their heads and return to eating.

‘That’s sweet.’ Denise raises her glass to them. ‘Most exes can barely stand being in the same room together and here you two are playing matchmaker for each other. The only thing I ever wanted to do with one of my exes was fling them into the sun.’ She smiles across the table at her husband and everyone raises their glasses, laughing in agreement.

‘We’re not as well-adjusted as we sound. I’ve wanted to fling him into the sun more times than I can count. And I’m sure the same is true for him.’ Alex chuckles along with the group and glances at Michael. They smile fondly at each other and Michael takes another risk, placing his hand on Alex’s thigh underneath the table.

‘Yeah, but if I ever flung you into the sun, I’d just build a spaceship to go get you back.’ He squeezes Alex’s knee and his eyes soften.

‘Me, too.’ He plants his hand on top of Michael’s and the rest of the room fades away. It is the closest Alex has ever come to cheating on someone. 

Dan clears his throat and they both jerk their heads in his direction. ‘Were you each other’s first loves?’

Michael starts talking before Alex manages to find suitable words. ‘Yes. We were two really soft kids with rough upbringings who found a home in each other. However briefly.’ The table falls silent until Mark begins the story of how he and his wife met working as lifeguards during college.

Dinner ends soon after. Dan and Denise making everyone a plate of food to take home and wishing everyone a goodnight. Denise waves to Michael, but pulls Alex aside. ‘He’s a sweet boy, Alex. I’m glad I got to meet him.’ She stares at him for a beat too long, eyebrows furrowed. ‘May I offer you some unsolicited advice? Please feel free to tell me to fuck off.’

Alex’s eyes widen at her swear. She laughs and shakes her head. ‘I never dreamed of being in the Air Force. And I sure as shit never intended to become a lifer. But life has a funny way of sending us down the right path - no matter how hard we fight against it.’ She gives him one last knowing look. ‘I’ll see you on Monday morning. Tell Michael I think he’s a delight.’

When Alex gets back to his Explorer, Michael is leaning against the driver’s side door. ‘Your keys.’ He’s holding out his hand.

‘I can drive.’ But even he has to admit the world is spinning slightly and his steps are more than little wobbly. Michael doesn’t pull his hand away. ‘Fine.’ He slaps his keys in Michael’s palm. ‘How come you’re so sober?’

‘Years of practice, baby. Plus, after the first beer, I strategically switched to water.’ He smirks and unlocks the car. Michael’s a constant marvel and Alex misses him so much.

The ride home is once again silent. Alex dozes off and wakes up to discover Michael leaning over his lap to unfasten his seat belt. ‘I miss you.’ He doesn’t mean to say it. But he’s glad it’s out in the open now. 

Michael helps him slide out of his seat and plant his feet firmly on the ground. ‘That’s the wine talking. Just last week you avoided talking to me in the cereal aisle.’

‘I have to avoid you or something wrong will happen.’ Michael ignores him and walks him to his front door, using his telekinesis to click the deadbolt open. All Alex’s security lights turn on, flooding his patio with bright, blinding light. Returning some of his sense to him and flaming his cheeks with embarrassment. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. I had too much wine.’

Michael nods, letting the whole thing go with a shrug. ‘You okay on your own?’

‘Yeah. Thanks again. For everything. I owe you.’ Alex wants to hug him. Wants to kiss him back in time to the moment right before he’d kissed Forrest that first time. But he doesn’t do either. ‘Goodnight, Michael.’

‘Night, Alex.’ He turns and strides to his truck. The darkness of night stealing him from Alex’s sight.

The Chevy disappears down the street, the chug of the engine growing fainter as the stars shine overhead. And Alex tries one last time. I don’t love you anymore, I don’t love you anymore, I don’t love you anymore.

[i-stan-nct-and-satan]

Not Broken (Jaehyun Mafia AU) Part 14

Not Broken Masterlist

Jaehyun X Reader

Y/N is a burlesque dancer living in Seoul. Jaehyun is one of the most powerful mafia men in Seoul. How will Y/N survive when Jaehyun suspects that she is involved with a rival gang?

Reasons to read this story: Ten’s a cross-dressing madam so….. yeah read it ya freaks.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.  

His presence sent shivers down my spine. Every fiber of my being urged me to run but I couldn’t. A much stronger force locked my body in place. The gym filled with an oppressive energy that immediately became too suffocating to bear.  

The corners of his lips upturned into a slight smile, a motion that contradicted the mood of the room. Letting out a soft chuckle, he ran his fingers through his faded pink hair, only for it to fall back into place seemingly untouched.  

“Is that any way to speak to your new trainer, Y/N?”  

Although he terrified me more than anything I had ever encountered, I refused to let Jaehyun think that he had any more power over me than he already did.  

“New trainer? What are you talking about? Where’s Jeno? He’s my trainer, not you.”  

Jaehun slowly shook his head and began to tsk at me. His smug features mocked me as he began to step closer towards me. He knew of the effect he had on me and was surely using his influence to further disrupt any tranquility I had left. There was no way he’d be ignorant enough to think that his existence was anything less than a means for my suffering, right?

“I must say, it‘s almost disconcerting to hear my fiancé sound so concerned about another man, especially after I forwent my morning responsibilities just to be with her. You wouldn’t be trying to make me jealous would you, kitten?” He taunted, his eyes feigning hurt.  

His words were coated in an artificial sweetness that could lead someone unbeknownst to his character to believe they were filled with genuine hurt but to me, they left me with a headache and a bad taste in my mouth. Not only that, but the way his eyes traveled their ways over my figure as he spoke was... anxiety inducing.

“Where’s Jeno?” I repeated, my strong facade beginning to waver.

Jaehyun stared at me in amusement and I wondered how I was going to keep his mood from turning sour without giving in to his games.

“Jeno has some duties he needs to take care of, you know with planning our wedding and all. Planning a proper ceremony is such a taxing responsibility and even without the deadline already enclosing on us. Although I trust Jeno’s abilities, I figured that relieving him of his other responsibilities would allow him to have everything ready for the end of the month.”

I couldn’t help but gasp.

“The end of the m-m-month? That’s only 3 weeks away!”

“In our line of business, that isn’t particularly out of the ordinary given the nature of most arrangements. A lot can happen in the months leading up to the official ceremony after an engagement is announced. Enemy plans can emerge, alliances could break, not to mention the very real possibility of either party’s death. Most find it best to officialize marriages as soon as possible, for the safety and benefit of all those involved, which is why we’re only announcing our engagement two weeks prior to the ceremony itself.”

Jaehyun’s words reached my ears but they sounded foreign to me and not because Korean wasn’t my first language. Everything he was saying sounded completely and utterly insane. Announcing an engagement two weeks before a wedding, the fact that we were having a wedding? It was straight out of a Kdrama and a cheesy one at that. I didn’t know how to respond to it as I had barely been given enough time to process our engagement in the first place.  

“If Jeno isn’t coming, I’m leaving,” I declared, turning towards the exit door.

“Not so fast, kitten. Didn’t you hear what I said? I’ll be taken over as your trainer.”

I hesitated slightly but began to walk away.

“Then I guess I won’t be training anytime soon,” I announced.

I held my breath, not knowing what to expect. I braced myself for any backlash my blatant disrespect might have earned me when a startling sound entered the room.  

He was laughing.  

I had just made it to the door, but I didn’t dare reach towards the handle. I thought I had fully prepared myself for any reaction he could have to my words whether they be verbal or even physical in nature, but Jaehyun always found a way to rebel against my expectations. His unnerving laughter incited a fear in me so vast, every hair on my body stood straight as though it would abandon its follicle.

I tried to swallow but my mouth was unbearable dry. Gathering up my courage, I raised my arm from my side and reached towards the door handle.

“Don’t you want to hear the other reason for delaying the announcement of our wedding?”  

I paused but continued to grip the handle with whitening knuckles.

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say to me.”

Jaehyun chuckled at my audaciousness.  

It’s cute how she acts fearless despite how she literally trembles whenever I speak. I want to tease her even more.  

“Don’t you know it hurts my feelings when you say things like that? Or are you just trying to get a rise out of me?” He taunted.

I began to turn the knob, disgusted by his playful tone.  

“Ah. Ah Ah. Believe me when I say that this is something you won’t want to miss out on,” He urged.

“At least... not unless you suddenly want to go through with the wedding.”

I instinctively looked back at Jaehyun, completely taking my hand off of the doorknob.  

“What? What do you mean?” I asked in a tone more sincere than I had intended.

A glimmer of disappointment seemed to wash over his features before he spoke.

“Now don’t look too excited,” He frowned.  

Ah, he’s mocking me again, isn’t he?

“I have a proposition for you. A deal of sorts.”

I stared at him.

“What kind of proposition?”

Jaehyun smiled a devilish smile before walking away.

I stood there confused as to whether he was intending for me to follow or stay put. After a moment’s hesitation, I resolved that it was the former.  

I trailed behind him as we wandered through the myriad of rooms that made up the massive home gym until Jaehyun settled upon one with a considerable about of floor mats. The room was far from new to me, seeing as it was the room Jeno most commonly used during combat training.  

“I’ve been watching you and Jeno train for some time now,” He began, taking notice of my shock.

“You’ve gotten quite good considering you’ve only been working together for  a week. I’d like to assess your progress and continue your training.”

“Why would you want to train me?” I asked. Glancing around the room in search of any cameras he might have used to monitor Jeno and my gym sessions.  

“Because you are to be my bride,” He answered, catching me off guard.  

Jaehyun’s eyes lingered on mine. They were softer than I had ever seen them before, but matching his gaze still proved to be too much to do comfortable. I shifted my stare to a nearby stack of floormats.  

“Although that status will grant you protection in of itself, there are certain dangers that come with taking the Jung family name. I must prepare you for that.”

“Oh...” I responded.

I hadn’t expected his answer to be so impassioned and sensible. I didn’t know what I was thinking, but I was sure his reasoning would have had more extemporaneous origins.

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t have any alternative motives to this decision,” He confessed prompting, me to match his gaze once more.  

“You and I haven’t met under the most favorable of circumstances, which is admittedly my fault. I don’t expect you to forgive me anytime soon and I am prepared for much of the harshness I delivered onto you to be returned onto me possibly for the next several years succeeding our wedding day.”

This time he was the one to break our stare though his eyes only seemed to lower innocently.

“But I want for our marriage to be a mutually beneficial one. I hope that over this next week, you and I will have the chance to get to know each other. I think that that is what would be best.”

“You’re damn right this is your fault,” I said. “Why on earth would you think I’d ever agree to working with you on anything?” 

Jaehyun’s expression hardened, but it didn’t show any signs of anger.

“Because if you think there’s any chance of you getting out of this wedding without my explicit consent, then our little kitten is dumber than I thought. Now do you want to hear my proposition or what?”

I kept my mouth shut.

“Good, now, where was I? Oh yeah. You and Jeno use this room for combat training, right? So, you’ve already experienced several scenarios simulating fights with an opponent who’s much stronger than you.”

Jaehyun stared at me searching for any sign that I was following before going on.

“You’re going to continue hands on training, but with me as your opponent instead. The only rules are that you have to stay within the perimeters of the room and that you cannot use a weapon to attack your opponent. Whoever pins the other on their back for three seconds will win.”

“Oh yeah? And what happens if I somehow win?” I scoffed.

The devilish grin returned to Jaehyun’s face, prompting my confident façade to teeter.  

“If you manage to pin me down for the full 3 seconds within the next 7 days before our engagement is announced to the world, I’ll call off the wedding.”

“What?”

“I said, if you beat me, I’ll call off the wedding.”

“But what about Wayv?”

“That won’t be an issue, I could make the president of Korea disappear without a trace if I wanted. I should have no problem finding a way to keep you safe from Wayv.”

“That’s not what you said before.”

“Well, that’s what I’m saying now!” He boomed.

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from arguing any further. I had more important things to ask.

“What happens if I can’t beat you before the seven days are up?”

“I was wandering if you’d ask that. It’s only fair that after offering you the chance to call our or marriage off entirely, that I should get something of equal value if you were to lose.”

That wasn’t what I had wanted to hear. Of course, he wanted something from me. Why else would he give me the opportunity to dip out on our marriage? There was no chance that he’d do this out of the goodness of his heart, and the idea that he was only doing this to see the hope drain from my being wasn’t too unbelievable. That couldn’t have been the case though. As much of a conniving bastard I knew Jaehyun to be, he was still a man of business. I’d be a sucker to think he’d do anything without it serving to further his agenda. Now the only question was, what was it he wanted and was it something I was willing to risk?

He brought his hand to his face in an exaggerated gesture as he vocally pondered to himself.  

“What is it that you could offer me that I couldn’t just take from you?”

My body tensed upon hearing those last few words.  

Fuck.

He began walking towards me as he spoke.  

“As you can probably tell, there isn’t much in this world that I can’t buy. Diamonds, cars, mansions. I can have it all. I just have to say the word. So, I’m sure you can understand my frustration when that doesn’t turn out to be the case. You, for example. Although I can’t simply buy your obedience, you’ve come to realize how far my power extends such as with the case of your friend, Wendy. If I can ensure your compliance with our wedding with something as simple as that, then imagine what else I can do,” He voiced as he reached a hand towards my face.  

I turned my face to avoid his advances, but his fingers brushed against my cheek as he pushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear.  

He leaned in close until his lips hovered mere inches away from my ear.  

“But that isn’t very fun now, is it?”  

I took a step back from him and stared into his eyes practically begging him to stop.  

“W-what are you saying?” I demanded.

Jaehyun responded with a sly smirk which only drew more attention to my now flustered state.  

“What I’m saying, is that I don’t want to have to keep forcing you to behave.”

“So, you just want me to go along with whatever you tell me to? And what, act like your perfect little puppet?”

“Something along those lines,” He chimed, leaning in again.  

The heat in my face was unbearable. I wanted to stand tall, but with how close his face was to mine, I could only retreat into myself further. He laughed before turning away from me to stand in front of the room’s mirror wall.  

He spent several seconds looking at himself before continuing.  

“You will be rewarded, of course. Whether it be material items or vacations, ask for it and it will likely become yours assuming you act in accordance with my standards.”

“What type of things does ‘meeting your standards’ entail?” I asked afraid of what the answer might be.

Jaehyun glanced back at me from the mirror.  The fear on my face must have been apparent as he quickly motioned to ease my mind.  

“I will never demand that you do anything of that nature if that’s what you’re afraid of. Although it will be expected of you to give me a male heir, that won’t be for some time and I already have plans to send you away for nine months as the adoption process is completed to give the illusion that you bore said child yourself.”

I relaxed slightly at the confirmation that his requests wouldn’t be sexual in nature, but I tensed back up when I realized he wasn’t done with his explanation.

“My mother is returning to the estate today.”

“Your mother?” I echoed.

“After my father died, she went to live with her sister. She comes to visit the estate when she can and Jisung and Chenle often go to stay with her for long periods at a time, but upon hearing of our engagement she has decided to return indefinitely. She has yet to learn of the specifics regarding our relationship and I would prefer to keep it that way. She’s somehow diluted herself into thinking that our marriage is based on love despite having never heard of you until yesterday. She’s not opposed to arranged marriages, but I’d like for her to think that Chenle and Jisung will have another mother figure in their lives. She will be assisting in the preparation of our wedding as is her duty. Things like going through dresses and basic preparations will make up most of your time together. I would like for you to get to know her as your future mother-in-law given you are unable to win our little bet. Some details would best be hidden from her such as your career path and how we met but it’ll be easier if you aren’t pretending to be someone you’re not. I’ve already had Haechan prepare a back story for you and how we met. I’ve insisted that he tag along on all your endeavors so that he may assist you in... keeping to the script, shall we say?”

He continued to look himself in the mirror as he spoke. He seemed deep in thought, as though he were still confirming the plan with himself instead of explaining the details to me.  

“I know that the bet won’t end for seven days, but if you agree to the bet, know that you’ll need to agree to this as well. That way I’ll have an idea of whether you’ll stay true to your word or not. Once you agree to the terms of the bet, then you cannot change your mind. You can’t suddenly give up your last three tries because you don’t think you’ll win. If you don’t agree to the bet, then I guess I’ll just have to find other ways of making you obey my orders such as through your friend Jungwoo.”

I flinched at hearing Jungwoo’s name. It seemed as though Jaehyun did more than just find out if Wendy was okay when he researched the Heartbreakers.  

“I strongly suggest that you agree to my terms as I believe that even if you lose, you will still benefit from this agreement. Otherwise, the next several years will likely be filled with many hardships should you continue to challenge me.”

His words, which were provocative in nature, had a slight hiss to them. I was reminded of Lucifer who took the form of a snake before he seduced Eve into eating the forbidden fruit and thus bringing about the fall of man. Yet, instead of trying to corrupt me with sin, my Lucifer was giving me a chance to return to Eden. The cost of losing meant my soul. If I agreed, that meant that I was promising to live out my life, pretending to be what Jaehyun wanted me to be. If I didn’t, then I was sure he’d do everything in his power to make my life as miserable as I wanted to make his. Even if it meant my pride remained intact, I wasn’t sure if such a fight was worth sacrificing my happiness for.

But that wasn’t what I needed to focus on.

Jaehyun posed our bet as though it were a guarantee that I would lose, but that wasn’t the case. Jeno had spent hours upon hours teaching me moves with the specific intention that they would help me out if I were to ever find myself in danger of fighting someone much stronger than me.  

Was there any chance that I could actually beat Jaehyun? Maybe not but thinking like that wasn’t an option. If this was the only chance I’d have to get Jaehyun out of my life once and for all, then I was going to take it.  

“Deal,” I said.

The surprised look on Jaehyun’s face disappeared as soon as it came, soon morphing into one of satisfaction.  

“Then shall we begin?”

<><><><>

“Consider today a break from training. Once we’re done with the match you can return to your room and prepare for my mother’s arrival. Starting tomorrow, we’ll only have matches after we finish our training sessions. That way you’ll actually be motivated to come to our training sessions,” Jaehyun told me.

“But that’ll be after I’m already worn out from training! That’s not fair!”

Jaehyun paused for a moment as if he were debating my words.  

“As your trainer, it will be in my best interest to help you improve and that includes showing you where you went wrong and how to counter my moves. I can’t do that unless we fight first. This way, I’ll be able to see your fighting style and have time to plan a lesson teaching you how to counter my moves.”

“How can I trust that you’ll actually teach me the most effective way to counter?” I challenged.

“I understand why you’d doubt me but believe me when I say that I know more than just one trick. Teaching you how to counterattacks to one move doesn’t guarantee that I’ll use it again or that you’ll be a good enough student to actually execute them.”  

Jaehyun ignored the dirty look I gave him.  

A knock came from the doorway. I turned to see Taeyong holding a stopwatch.  

“Ah. Now that our ref is here, Are you ready to begin?” Jaehyun asked.  

I stared him up and down, aware that there was no way I’d be able to take a man of his stature down, at least not today. I had to come up with a strategy.

During one of our first matches, Jeno taught me that the best thing to do when fighting a new opponent is to let them attack first. That way, you can analyze their fighting style and act accordingly.  

“You can tell a lot about a man from their first move. Not just whether they’re fighting style is more defensive or offensive, but about their inner workings as well. A man who attacks without hesitance is rash and likely uses their appearance of strength as a coverup for their faults. A man who hesitates and overanalyzes his opponent is filled with doubt and anxieties. A man who employs weapons to distance himself from his opponent is the same man who would order his underlings to do his dirty work for him. A man who is able to use his opponent's strength against them is disciplined and goal oriented. This kind of fighter knows how to save his strength for more pressing matters. Attacking first will only inform your opponent of your weaknesses so it is best to let them reveal themselves to you first. This will benefit you as you’ll learn to gauge your opponent’s abilities. Never jump headfirst into a pool you can’t see the bottom of. You never know what dangers lurch underneath the surface.”

Jeno’s words eclipsed my thoughts.  

What type of fighter would Jaehyun prove to be? You can learn a lot about a man from his first move, so what if the reverse was true? Would it possible to predict Jaehyun’s moves based on what I already knew about him? With what little information I had, Jaehyun didn’t seem like the type to act without a plan, but given that he was fighting against someone much less inexperienced, maybe that wouldn’t be the case with me.  

I looked at Jaehyun. I took notice of his smug features.

I was right. He expects to win quickly and easily and it’s likely that will be the case.  

This might be our first fight, but it would be stupid of me to take it any less seriously, but what if I could use that to my advantage.

It’s our first fight so probably already anticipating what my first action will be. Perhaps he expects me to act rashly. No, that couldn’t be the case. Jaehyun knows that Jeno and I have been working together and I know that he’s already seen glimpses of my fighting style. He probably knows that I plan to let him strike first.  

I continued to stare back at Jaehyun as I went back and forth with myself. He let out a small chuckle that further revealed his confidence in himself.  

Go ahead and smile, Jaehyun. That confidence of yours is going to serve as a tool for my victory.  

“Yes, I’m ready.”

“Good.”

Jaehyun shot a glance towards Taeyong who nodded in response.  

“To reiterate the rules. Whoever manages to pin the other down for three seconds wins. The pinned person must be laying on their back and both of their shoulders must be touching the mat for the full three seconds. No weapons may be used to attack your opponent and both parties must stay within the confines of the room. There is no time limit. The match ends either with one party successfully pinning the other or with one party tapping out which will result in their opponent’s victory. Is everyone aware of what tapping out means?” Taeyong asked.

Both Jaehyun and I nodded.  

“Great, now get into position,” Taeyong instructed.

I watched Jaehyun as he walked up to a mark that was engraved into the mat with tape. I quickly located a similar mark and approached it.  

“You may start when I blow the whistle. Ready? Whistle!”

Taeyong quickly blew the whistle catching me off guard as I thought there would be more warning beforehand. I launched myself at Jaehyun. A spark of surprise crossed his expression as I quickly advanced towards him.

That was my plan, to catch him off guard by acting in juxtaposition with what he expected of me.  

Slam!

The air that peacefully occupied my lungs was violently expunged as my back made harsh contact with the floor. The pure shock of the moment was enough to have me fixed to the floor. There was no need for the hands that held me in place except to mock me for my misguided attempts against the man they belonged to.  

Whistle!

“Jaehyun is the winner,” Taeyong announced, his voice clear and void of any noticeable disappointment or excitement.  

The match was over, and I was right where I had started. Actually, I was lower than where I had started, both figuratively and literally. Having no recollection of what had happened, I was still hopelessly ignorant as to the kind of fighter Jaehyun was, now with only had six attempts remaining instead of seven.  

As I struggled to regain any pattern of breathing even remotely similar to my normal, Jaehyun simply stared down at me. His body, which showed no intention of withdrawing from mine, began to move closer to my stunned physique. His face hovering only inches away from mine.  

I kept my eyes closed as tightly as I could to find some sort of grounding as I recovered from the impact. I only opened my eyes after hearing a soft chuckle.  

“Cute,” Jaehyun thought to himself.  

I stared back at him shocked by how close he was. I instinctively tried to pull away from him but there was nowhere to go. I was already pressed against the mat. With nowhere to go and nowhere else to look, my eyes met his.  

I prepared myself for the humiliation that would come with looking at whatever amused look might be staring back. After hearing his laughter, I was sure that he was going to tease me, and I was going to chew him out for it. Yet when my eyes met his, the expression that stared back at me wasn’t the self-satisfied grin I had become so familiar with.  

This look was one I hadn’t seen before, at least not from Jaehyun. It wasn’t the cocky look he often adorned while teasing me nor was it the coldhearted disposition I had been intimidated by time and time again. His rose gold bangs fell past his eyes in a vain attempt to hide them, but the intensity they held was desperate to be noticed. That intensity seemed to be the only thing desperate about them. Despite having just finished a fight, as brief as it might have been, Jaehyun looked more sedate than one would expect. His calm and collected state did little to ease my quickening heart as a glimmer of playfulness seemed to linger across his features. This mischievousness garnered especially in his upturned lips which I momentarily glimpsed at in a foolish attempt to alleviate the frenzy of nervousness I felt from holding his gaze.  

Jaehyun noticed my wandering eyes, completely aware of where they had drifted off to.  

My eyes returned to his only to see that they were looking lower than they had before.  

I didn’t have time to question where he was looking before he began to lessen the space between us, his lips slowly enclosing on mine. Unable to do much else, I closed my eyes and turned my head to the side frantically trying to escape his advances which only drew closer and closer until...

“If that’s all you needed me for, then I’ll be off.”

My already tense body jolted slightly at the unexpected voice and my eyes opened just enough to see that Jaehyun’s face had retreated from mine.  

“Ah. Yes. Very well.” Jaehyun coughed, making sure not to stutter as he dismissed his second in command.  

As soon as Taeyong left the room, Jaehyun rolled off of me and stood up.  

I quickly followed, but not before mouthing a silent thank you to Taeyong. Despite him having already left, I felt the need to express my gratitude, even if my thanks only fell upon deaf ears.  

“Well, we both should be heading back. My mother will arrive soon, and you need to be ready to greet her. I’ll send Haechan over to fill you in on your backstory,” Jaehyun advised as his eyes hovered on everything in the room except me.  

“I’m confident that you won’t purposely cause any trouble, that is if you don’t want to forfeit any of your six remaining chances.”

“I won’t.”

Jaehyun finally turned towards me surprised by my sudden willingness to obey.

“I’ll stay true to my end of the deal as long as you stay true to yours, including what you said about teaching me how to counter your attacks,” I promised.

Jaehyun nodded before making his exit from the training room.  

<><><><><>

“Thank God he didn’t leave me with anymore bruises. Imagine having to explain that to his mother,” I sighed.

“Damn. That’s crazy.”

“I’m amazed he didn’t tell any of you about the deal he offered me.”

“He wouldn’t bother telling us about a bet he had no chance of losing, even if the stakes were this high.”

“Wow, thanks, Donghy- fuck, Haechan.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll take some time to get used to. I keep forgetting that I don’t have to censor myself around you anymore.”

“Yeah right, like you ever censored yourself around me.”

“I meant with hiding the fact that I’m a gangster, you idiot,” Haechan scolded, hitting me on the side of the arm.

“Ouch!” I howled exaggerating the pain before Haechan playfully tackled me, the both of us erupted in a fit of giggles as we fell on the bed.

“Come on, you need to get ready and I need to catch you up on your cover story. Mrs. Lee isn’t the type to be easily fooled,” Haechan explained.

Before I had returned, Haechan had already laid out a set of clothes for me to wear. I had just gotten out of the shower and put on a towel before deciding to catch my old friend up on what had occurred at my latest training session. I had wanted to catch him up on everything that had occurred since he and I talked that fateful night, but there never seemed to be enough time and I was sure that he already knew the basics.  

“I know this isn’t your usual style, but you’ll like it I promise.”

“Haechan... It’s frilly.”

“No, it’s not, it’s... okay yeah it’s frilly, but this will leave a good impression on Mrs. Lee so just think of it as one of your burlesque costumes or somethings.  

“You want me to pretend that wearing this dress to impress a woman whose son I’m being forced to marry is anything like wearing a costume for burlesque?”

“Yes... and sure it is. Think of it like this. You wear burlesque costumes to seduce your audience. Well, isn’t making a good impression on someone a bit like seducing them?”

I paused weighing his words.  

“I hate how much sense that makes in a twisted way.”

An accomplished smile took over Haechan’s face.

“Now, hurry up and put it on.”

Over the past years of Haechan and my friendship, we had become thicker than thieves. We both felt comfortable changing in front of each other, especially since Haechan had as much interest in women as I had in gauging my eyes out with a rusty spoon.  

“How do I look?” I asked.

It was a simple baby blue dress with a conservative cut to it. The neck allowed for only my clavicle to be exposed. The puffy tulle sleeves extended over the entirety of my arms, yet the see-through material didn’t leave anything from the eye. The bottom of the dress resembled an a-line skirt stopping right above my knees. The shoes Haechan picked out were simple white strappy sandals with subtle daisy decals where the buckles were. Although it wasn’t exactly an outfit, I‘d never choose for myself, even I had to admit that I looked like the perfect daughter-in-law.  

Haechan gave the outfit a once over before speaking.  

“Like you’re in desperate need of a hairbrush.”

“I know I don’t say this often, but I love how hesitant you are to say anything that might be considered unkind,” I joked sarcastically.

Haechan rolled his eyes before motioning for me to sit in vanity chair.

Once I was settled, Haechan began to brush my hair.

“It’ll be better if we keep as close to the truth as possible. If I’m being honest, I think that you and Mrs. Lee will get along almost perfectly something I don’t necessarily think is a good thing.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, when I think about it, you and Mrs. Lee have a lot of similarities, which is a good thing because that means that she’ll like you, but on the other hand, if she likes you too much, it’ll be harder for you to hide things from her.”

“Ah,” I responded.  

I wanted to asked what similarities I could possibly have with a former mob wife but couldn’t as Haechan quickly began discussing the details of my backstory.  

“So, you have two stories you have to commit to memory. The first one being the story we present to the public, aka the story that claims that you were working with NCT to take down Lucas. We haven’t worked out all the details yet as we need to come up with a reason for keeping Lucas’ death a secret, so you won’t have to worry about that for a while. Since Mrs. Lee is still a prominent figure with close ties to NCT and its leader, she knows that Lucas’ death was not NCT’s doing. Basically, the only thing that we are going to keep from her is how you and Jaehyun met along with your career as a dancer. Mothers aren’t exactly the types to squeal with joy at the thought of their sons marrying strippers,” he teased, causing me to roll my eyes.  

Haechan pulled the hair out of my face and began braiding it.

“You’re a barista at John and J’s, a small shop in Itaewon. Jaehyun happened to be in the neighborhood and decided to try the place out. He noticed a man at the counter was blatantly harassing you, so he decided to step in. After the man finally left, you thanked Jaehyun and that’s when he noticed your necklace. He asked where you got it and you told him it was a family heirloom. Aware that this was not the case, Jaehyun started going to the coffee shop every day, making pleasant conversation in order to earn your trust. One day as you were closing, that man from before showed up and made another scene. Seeing that you were visibly spooked from the encounter, Jaehyun offered to walk you home. You accepted. Once you were at the door to your building, Jaehyun brought up Lucas. At first you were terrified that he was a member of Wayv, but he quickly eased your worries and told him about that night. After hearing your story, Jaehyun offered you protection from Wayv along with financial rewards in exchange for your cooperation. You two began dating shortly after and when Jaehyun suggested that you two get married for the sake of NCT’s image, you were extremely hesitant. Once it became clear to you that the council wanted to force Jaehyun into an arranged marriage, you agreed out of fear of losing him to someone else.”

I stared at Haechan’s reflection, mouth agape.  

“What?” Haechan sighed, already aware of how ridiculous it all was.

“Really? I thought you said the closer we stuck to the truth, the better, not that we were gonna write a cheesy romance novel. I mean, seriously! What was that? After freaking out and locking me up, you want me to tell Momma-Mob-Boss that not only did her son reacted calmly to seeing the necklace, but that he fucking came to my rescue? Who wrote this? Dong- ah, Haechan, please tell me you weren’t the one who came up with this BS,“ I scoffed.

Haechan let out a sigh.  

“It doesn’t matter who wrote it, it’s the most believable story we have that presents this marriage as something you would willingly agree to. We even had to fudge the timeline a bit, making it so that you and he met at the coffee shop a month ago instead of just a few days ago.”

“Yeah like a month would really make much of a difference. Sure, this man almost beat me to death, but that’s not the reason I’m so hesitant to marry him. I’m only concerned with us having only met a few days ago. Oh wait,” I spat.

“Well then, what are you gonna do?”

I huffed before turning in my chair to face him.  

“What do you mean?” I demanded.

“What are you gonna do? Are you gonna tell her the truth and lose your opportunity to get out of here? And after that, what then? Are you gonna keep rebelling and pushing back against Jaehyun until he has to chain you up? Are you going to make your life a living hell all for the sake of your pride? You’re right. This is bullshit, but it’s the bullshit that’s gonna get you through the next week. And if you don’t win against Jaehyun, then get ready for even more bullshit, because that’s what you can expect to deal with if you want things to get better. Stop mourning your old life! Just accept that your problems aren’t gonna go away just because you fight against them!”  

My body had tensed up as Haechan seemed to lose his cool for a second. I didn’t know what to say but I felt like I had to say something. As soon as I opened my mouth to respond, a knock fell on the door.

“Guys, Mrs. Lee’s car just arrived at the gates. We have around 5 minutes before she’ll arrive at the door,” The voice called out.  

It was Taeyong.

“Shit,” Haechan cussed as he looked at me in the mirror. He quickly tucked a few loose strands behind my ears before motioning for me to get up.

“We didn’t have much time to prepare. Are you confident that you can remember everything? Actually, it doesn’t matter. Just try not to say anything stupid.”

[detectivejay-chuckles-halstead]

Gone // Jay Halstead x Reader

Description: Loss is a tricky thing

Warnings: Major Character Death

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Words: 1786

“I-I don’t...No. You’re wrong,” you insisted as the red-head you’d become familiar with stood in front of you, a somber look staring back at you. “You’re wrong! He can’t be...No. You’re wrong!” you screamed, tears streaming down your face much like they had been for the last hour since arriving at the hospital. 

Strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you to familiar contours of his chest. You wouldn’t look at Will, not anymore. There could have been something else he could have done, anything else. He was a doctor. It was his job to fix people, to save people. He could have been saved, you were sure of it. 

He was your partner. One of your closest friends. He was family. You were supposed to have each other’s backs. You did have his back. Strong arms kept you close as you sobbed, clutching the fabric of a t-shirt. 

“Let’s go home,” he said softly after your sobs had died down.

You shook your head. You couldn’t just leave him here alone. He didn’t deserve to be alone. You were supposed to have his back. 

“I-I need to see him,” you finally choked out, voice rough from all the crying. You were sure your eyes were red and puffy, nose still running. “I need to see him. To make it real,” you said again, voice cracking with emotion still. 

He nodded, hand on your lower back as the two of you walked back into the ED to find Will. He explained your request, Will hesitating before agreeing and leading the two of you down to the morgue where his body was being kept until the coroner could come take custody. It was a death that needed to be investigated. He was a cop killed in the line of duty. And he deserved justice. 

The room was cold, stale. You never thought a room could feel like death, but it did. It was the space in between. And there he was on a metal slab. The hospital gown still on his body, breathing tube still in his throat. You tried not to cry, thinking you couldn’t cry anymore, but the tears kept coming. 

“I’ve got you,” he assured you, hand grasping yours. Even through your own grief, you could hear the sadness in his voice as well. You weren’t the only one who was hurting. “I’m here.” 

You could barely register his words over the blood thrumming in your ears with every heartbeat. It wasn’t right. He should be cracking a joke, making the team laugh with his stupid jokes. He shouldn’t be dead on a metal slab in the basement of a hospital. His skin shouldn’t be pale white, skin ice cold -- you were sure, but you weren’t allowed to touch him. He should be breathing. Talking. Living. Yet, here he was. Dead. 

“Adam,” you choked out as you looked at him, expecting some kind of movement from the man. Yet there was nothing. 

“He wasn’t feeling anything,” Will told you softly. “By the time the bullet left his body, he wasn’t feeling anything. There was nothing anybody could have done.”

“You think that makes me feel better, Will?” you spat at him, anger rising fast to drown out your grief. “You think that knowing he wasn’t feeling anything makes it any better? How the fuck is that supposed to make it better? He was shot because of me! He was shot because I hesitated! He is dead! My best friend is dead because of-!” 

You couldn’t, air catching in the back of your throat as another sob tore from your chest. You would have fallen to the ground if Jay wasn’t there to keep you up, bearing the entirety of your body weight with his arms. From there, it was a controlled descent to the cold ground, Jay’s arms coming around you from behind, holding you to his chest. 

“I’ve got you,” he said again, voice shaking. “I’ve got you, Y/N. Just...leave us, please, Will.”

He looked up at his brother, the doctor walking out of the room, leaving you and Jay on the floor, crying. Crying because you’d both lost a close friend. Crying because the family you’d built was now broken again, would keep breaking until there was nobody left. It would keep breaking until there was an entirely new team, and one person would be the Olinsky of the team. The one that would be there to guide the younger detectives. The one who was so cynical, who had their own ways of doing things. 

That’s what your destinies were in Intelligence. A specialized unit. Specialized deaths. Gun shots, shanks in prison. Near death experiences of overdoses and kidnappings. A specialized unit. Specialized traumas. Specialized relationships. Specialized. Specialized. Specialized. That’s what everyone called the team. Specialized. If you were so specialized, you wouldn’t be dying off one by one.

“Let’s go home,” Jay said again. This time you agreed, letting him help you stand up and walk out of the building. You ignored the looks some of the staff gave you, the ones who knew the two of you and the situation. 

The ‘specialized’ team was off the case now that one of their own was dead, Homicide taking over. Jay had been able to go back to work with relative ease, but you...not so much. Adam was the brother you never had, and his death was hitting you the hardest. Even Kim had been able to go back after the funeral. You couldn’t. You couldn’t be put with someone else. You couldn’t watch as a new detective took over his desk, sat where he used to sit and it not be him. He was a ghost now, haunting every corner of that building. Haunting Molly’s, and your apartment, and just everywhere you went you still saw him. 

“How are you holding up, kiddo?” Voight asked after you let him in, figuring Jay was the one who sent him to talk some sense into you.

You knew your fiance hated seeing you like this. He’d tried everything to bring some happiness into your life, to bring you out of this darkness. Yet, it was nearly impossible. You were tied down to your grief. Which meant he started working longer hours, wasn’t home as much. Which led you to go even deeper into the dark. 

“You want the truth? Or do you want me to sugar coat it like I do with Jay?” 

The two of you sat on the couch, allowing you to pull the blanket around yourself again. As you looked around the apartment, you knew the only reason it was clean was because when Jay was home, he was cleaning up your messes. Like he always did. 

“You know me. I can handle the truth,” he reminded you. 

“I just...I don’t think I can go back there, Hank. I can’t just go and him not be there. Just the thought of somebody taking his spot breaks my heart even more than it already is. He was my brother. And I can’t help but ask myself, ‘who’s next?’ You know? Which one of us is going to get killed because of what we do? Is it going to be Hailey? Or Kim? Or Kevin? Or you? God forbid it’s Jay, because I would not survive that one,” you told him. “He’s everywhere, Hank. Everywhere I look. And I’m-.” Your voice cracked again as you pointed to yourself. “I’m the reason he’s dead.” 

“Y/N, you’re not the reason he’s dead,” Voight told you, voice steady like it always was. “A thug is the reason he’s dead. A bullet is the reason he’s dead. You did everything right. IA said you did everything right. So do I. You’re the only one blaming yourself for Adam dying because it gives you someone to blame. It gives you some reason why he’s dead, when there is no reason behind it.”

“I hesitated!”

“You were trying to talk down a kid! A child! A sixteen year old boy who shouldn’t have had a gun in the first place, but got sucked into the gang life. You had empathy for a child. Like you always do. You and Halstead, you’re both wired through your hearts. That doesn’t mean you’re the reason Adam’s dead,” he continued insisting, as if you hearing it enough would make you finally believe it. 

“What am I supposed to do without him?” you finally asked for the first time in the weeks since he died. “How am I supposed to go on?”

“First, you’re going to take a shower. Make some dinner. Jay is going to come home, and you’re going to talk to him about all of this. Let him in again, because he wants to be here for you but he don’t know how. Then, you’re going to get yourself together. And next week, I expect you back in the office at least on desk duty. You’re going to learn how to live in a world with Adam gone,” he explained. “And you’re going to realize that you’re not the only one who sees a ghost, that you’re not the only one still learning to handle your grief.” 

“Y/N, you awake?” Jay called out, the door shutting behind him. Hank reached across to squeeze your hand before getting up. “Hank.”

Voight nodded at Jay before leaving the apartment, leaving you with Jay. You’d agreed to marry the man, and yet he was now looking at you as if you were a stranger sitting on that couch. 

“Sit with me?” you asked. There was no hesitation as he sat down next to you, letting you lean into him. “I’m sorry for everything the past few weeks, Jay. I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Of course he would say that, make it seem as if you were just grieving. 

“I do though. I’ve been pushing you away, and it’s not fair to you. But...I have to move on. I have to learn to live without him. And I know you don’t fully understand, but he was the brother I didn’t have. I loved him, you know? He was there for so much. But...he’s dead. Adam is dead, and I have to learn to live with that,” you explained to him. “And I’m sorry that I’ve been lost and distant, but I’m trying to get better. I promise. I’m going to start trying,” 

“I’ve got you,” he told you yet again, and this time, you really believed it. He was going to be your rock in this storm that you were living. And you had to learn to rely on him.

[emutempo]

Strike A Pose (domestic SuperCorp one-shot)

Summary: Everyone has the day off but Supergirl. And even though it means leaving Lena home alone for much of the day, Kara's determined to make the best of it.

Posted to my Ao3 here. 

Notes: It's 4:40AM and I just couldn't sleep without getting this out of my head. And since I'm still anxious about posting any of my fics, I figured once again it'd be better to hit that post button before I get too nervous and hit delete instead. Anyway, I hope this brightens at least one person’s day.

----------

Rays from the sun pour in from the windows of Lena’s bedroom and her eyes flutter open as she feels the heat on her face. She forces her eyes open and stretches into a yawn.

She looked across the bed and first saw a mess of golden hair splayed across a pillow. Kara was still fast asleep after a long week working at the DEO. It had been a long week for both them and Lena was looking for to a relaxing Friday with no work.

 She was happy the 4th of July landed on a Friday this year. It usually meant she had a three day weekend with Kara all to herself. No L Corp, no CatCo. Except, today, Kara was on call. Even though the DEO was operating with the minimal crew, Kara had volunteered to cover for J’onn, Winn, James and Alex. They had been so accommodating of Kara’s requests for days off to spend with Lena that Lena didn’t mind.

Today would be like any other busy weekend day for them. They’d lounge around the house, playing board games, watching their favorite movies and cuddling on the couch. And when Kara was called away for her Supergirl duties, she’d give Lena a quick goodbye and take off to deal with the problem before eventually coming back to Lena and resuming their activities like nothing had interrupted at all.

For now, it was still early and the city itself was still waking up so Lena turned over and cuddled against Kara. Her head, barely hit the pillow before she fell back into slumber.

—

Later, Kara and Lena were sat up, cuddling on the living room couch, each with a cup of coffee in hand. On the TV, an episode of QI playing. Kara took a sip of her coffee before

Kara and Lena had taken to watching QI on their lazy mornings. Kara was fascinated with the random knowledge and discussion on the show and more-so with Lena’s endless intelligence. This morning, they were talking about the history of astronomy.

Kara cleared her throat, “so when did people start thinking the Earth was flat again? It’s like they’re afraid the Earth is round. They’re lucky it is or they’d be off floating somewhere in space!”

Lena loved these little conversations with Kara. No matter how long she’d spent on Earth, still so much surprised her. Lena shrugged. “You know, the only thing flatearthers fear is sphere itself.”

It took Kara a moment to realize Lena’s joke before a giggle escaped her throat, still a tinge of morning gruffness in her voice.  Lena stared into her eyes, trying to memorize the beautiful sound of Kara’s laughter. But it was short-lived as Kara suddenly tilted her head, listening.

Lena smiles, knowing in that moment that duty was calling to Supergirl. National City needed its savior. Kara looked up apologetically to Lena. “Small kitchen fire. No extinguisher. Should be quick.”

And a moment later, a whoosh fills the Lena’s living room as Kara disappears for a moment before another whoosh brings Kara back, clad in her blue suit and red cape. Lena blows her a kiss. “I’ll be waiting for you, Supergirl.”

Kara mimes catching her kiss in the air and puts it to her lips before stepping out onto the balcony. Even though Lena’s a little disappointed, she can’t help but smile as she watches her go.

Kara has the goofiest grin on her face she holds Lena’s eye contact. Lena smiles, shaking her head. She knows what’s coming and she waits for it…

Lena watches as Supergirl turns around and takes a big step away from the balcony door. She turns around in place and mimes pressing an elevator button before taking a patient stance with her arms crossed in front of her, as if waiting. A moment later, still ‘standing’ with her arms crossed, Kara slowly floats up into the air as if riding an invisible elevator until she’s out of Lena’s view. But not before giving the Luthor a playful wink.

Lena can’t hold back the laugh caught in her throat. It’s loud and she knows Kara hears it.

—

Later, they’re sitting on opposite sides of the coffee table, a chess board between them. It’s Kara’s turn but she’s gone on a rant and Lena doesn’t have the heart to interrupt her.

“I just don’t understand. Why are ALL of them so sad? Isn’t there a single period drama about two women falling in love where they get to be together? The endings are always so tragic. Unrequited love… pre-arranged marriage… and that’s only if we’re lucky enough one of them doesn’t die! Doesn’t anyone run away together? Or say ‘screw you’ to all the cranky old men?”

Lena can’t stop herself. She leans over the chess board and kisses Kara. It’s soft and sweet. When she pulls back, she gestures to the chess board and Kara finally realizes it’s her move. She hastily moves one of her pieces and by the look on Lena’s face, it’s not… the best move. But Lena ignores it.

“I think they’re just trying to be historically accurate, love. Times were a lot harder for us not too long ago.”

Kara doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer. “Well, I still don’t like it. No more sad movies like that one we watched last night. Here Comes the World… or was it… A World to Come?”

“The World to Come,” Lena reaches forward to brush a hair out of Kara’s face. “We could watch Gentleman Jack.”

Kara pouts. “That doesn’t sound promising.” Lena chuckles, about to launch into an explanation of the history behind the titular character of Anne Lister when she sees that signature head tilt again and Kara’s eyes focus into the distance. Lena’s puts her hand up over the chess board about to say, “Kara, mind the chess board—“ but it’s too late. Two back to back WHOOSHES and Supergirl is again standing before Lena, who’s eyebrow’s cocked in ITS signature position. Kara notices the chess pieces all over the floor and looks at Lena apologetically, “you were winning anyway?”

Kara leans in and gives Lena a quick peck on the cheek. “Drunken brawl. I’ll get everyone settled down and be right back.” She keeps her eyes on Lena’s as she backs her way toward the balcony door. The look in their eyes and the suppressed smiles on their faces tell us that, again, they both know what’s coming. Lena watches as Kara steps outside, her cape flapping in the breeze, and takes her superhero stance. She double taps the emblem on her chest and then puts her hands out behind her and takes off in flight… Is she serious?

Lena guffaws and yells after Kara. “Iron Man? Are you kidding me?” But Lena giggles. Kara knows she’s gonna give her a hard time for that one later. As if to dig in even more, Kara loop-de-loops and flies by the window on her way to the drunken brawl.

Yeah she definitely heard that.

—

Back at home with Lena and Kara relaxing in front of the TV. Kara channel surfs while Lena plays with her hair. She lands on a movie that’s just started.

“Oh, I love Megamind! Have you ever seen it?”

Lena shakes her head, “I think most of the animated films I’ve watched in my entire lifetime on Earth I’ve seen first with you. And we haven’t watched this one yet.”

Kara scoots up closer to Lena. “Can we? Can we watch it together? It’s one of my favorites.”

Lena puts her arm around Kara and pulls her in. “How many times have I ever said no to your movie picks?” Kara turned around, wearing a hurt look on her face even though Lena knows it’s put-on. “You keep saying no to Hocus Pocus!”

“That’s because it’s a Halloween movie and we should watch it on Halloween.”

Before Kara can protest… another head tilt and yep, a WHOOSH away and back.

“Car wreck on the bridge. Firefighters’ jaws of life aren’t working. Back in a jiffy. We’re not finished discussing this.”

Kara went straight for the balcony and Lena thought she wasn’t going to get a special send off. But, of course, Kara had something else in mind. She turns around and grabs her cape, pulling it up over her head in a somewhat childish maneuver.

What the hell is she doing this time? Then Lena gets her answer when the cape puffs up revealing Kara blowing air into it to resemble a parachute before she floats up, up, and away.

“Ok, that was a good one.”

She can picture the shit-eating grin on Kara’s face and shakes her head, turning back to the TV and hitting play.

—

Kara and Lena in the kitchen, making an early dinner. Kara’s arguing a point and waving a spatula around like a judge waves a gavel.

“You agree that Bette Midler’s amazing and this is one of her favorite roles she’s ever played. She said so herself. I know because she follows me on Twitter.”

Lena flicks a gravy-covered whisk at Kara, flinging the brown sauce onto her shirt and face. Kara mouth drops open and she freezes in place, shocked at Lena’s gravy betrayal.

“That’s what you get for showing off.”

Kara, hands and face still frozen, pivots to face Lena, “oooh, you’re going to be sorry for that.” With a burst of speed, Kara reaches out and tickle Lena’s sides. Lena squeals as she tries to escape but she knows it’s futile. There’s no way she’s escaping Kara’s grip so she does the next best thing and flicks more gravy at her. And now it’s Kara’s turn to squeal. “You are gonna HATE gravy by the time I’m through with you!” Kara dives for Lena but before she can catch her up in her arms again… you know what it is. The head tilt. Kara listens for a moment as she wipes gravy from her face and licks it from her finger. Lena takes a swipe for herself too.

Kara quickly glances at Lena before a smirk takes over her face. But Lena can’t stop her before…

“Kara don’t—“

… Kara WHOOSHES away, spinning the gravy off her body and flinging it EVERYWHERE, including Lena.

“—Do the whoosh thing.”

Lena stands there for a beat. Now SHE’s the one frozen with gravy-face. Kara whooshes back into the kitchen and licks a spot of gravy off Lena’s face.

“Break in at the pawn shop. Don’t try to sneak any kale into the fagioli ‘cause I’ll know.”

Kara makes her way to the balcony but Lena doesn’t turn around. She waits a beat for the tell-tale whoosh but doesn’t hear one. She knows Kara’s waiting for her to turn around and although part of Lena doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of turning around, she does. Supergirl has places to be and she doesn’t want to keep Kara waiting.

Kara smiles as Lena turns around before jumping onto an invisible broomstick and doing her best interpretation of a witch cackle as she ‘flies’ off.

Lena rolls her eyes as she wipes the gravy off her face with a towel. “Ok, ok! We can watch Hocus Pocus when you get back.”

Lena goes to the fridge and grabs the bunch of kale she’s hidden in one of the fridge drawers.

—

The evening. Lena and Kara lay on the couch, the remnants of their dinner on the coffee table in front of them. Kara swipes a remnant of gravy from one of the plates and quickly dabs it on Lena’s nose. Lena’s nose scrunches at the cold liquid as Kara fights to keep a straight face. So does Lena.

“I’m starting to understand why these witches want to eat these children.”

Kara playfully smacks Lena’s arm. She knows Lena isn’t mad in the slightest. Kara giggles as Lena tries to lick the gravy from her nose with her tongue. But her tongue can’t reach. Kara leans forward and licks it off for her.

“I could eat you.”

Lena blushes and leans in for a kiss. It’s tender and sweet. Lena pulls away to look Kara in the eyes. “Well, you have put a spell on me so I’d probably let you.”

Kara’s eyebrows perk up and she bites her lip, “is that a request, Ms. Luthor?”

But of course… Lena doesn’t get the chance to answer before Kara’s head tilts once again. A beat before… WHOOSH.

“Run of the mill creep following a woman home. Give me five minutes to set this guy straight.”

Kara plops a kiss on Lena’s nose where the gravy was before she turns and runs straight out for the balcony. She doesn’t wait for Lena to turn around but Lena watches anyway as Kara takes a running leap toward the balcony bannister and lands on top of it. She takes a few more jumps like she’s on a diving board before leaping and tucking into a somersault as she “dives” off the bannister and disappears below the balcony.

“Go get him, love.”

Lena hits pause on the movie and sits back, staring off through the balcony windows at the city, her eyes filled with a dreamy haze. She’ll wait for Kara to come back and watch with her.

—

Later that night, Kara and Lena are finally lying in bed cuddling and listening to the last of the fireworks going off.

Kara flips through Twitter on her phone while Lena reads a book in one hand and uses the other to stroke Kara’s hair. She hears a small yawn escape from the blonde’s mouth and looks at the clock.

“It’s getting late. Are you ready to go to sleep, love? Should I turn off the light?”

Kara drops her phone dramatically and tucks her head into Lena. Her arm lands with a thud across Lena’s stomach, collapsing as if exhausted.

“I’m not tired if you’re not.”

Lena strokes her head a few more times before she dogs ears the book she’s reading and places it on her night stand. She leans over to turn off the light when she feels Kara sit up. She turns and sees Kara’s head tilted, listening. Lena picks her book back up, ready to continue reading while she waited for Kara to come back from another rescue.

“What is it this time? Wild assassin penguin on the loose? Three crazy witch sisters kidnapping innocent children?”

Kara stiffens up and tilts her head the other way. “No, it’s a woman…”

Lena sets her book to the side, noticing the serious tone in Kara’s voice. “Kara, what’s wrong?”

Kara looks at Lena, seemingly concentrating on a sound in the distance, a look of concern across her face. “She’s dying… of patience.”

Lena’s eyebrows scrunch together and she squints at Kara, confused. “What?”

Kara turns to face Lena, still as serious as ever.

“She has this girlfriend who keeps rushing off all over the city, leaving her alone at home and she’s just… been so patient.”

Lena’s face relaxes and falls into a lazy grin as she catches on to Kara. Kara can tell Lena’s savvy to her playfulness but she doesn’t drop the series tone.

“See, she’s a very important and very busy lady who doesn’t get a lot of time off to spend with her girlfriend and when she does, her girlfriend always has to fly off. So, if it’s ok with you, I’ve gotta go fix that.”

Lena pulled Kara in close. She didn’t try to feign shock or surprise or play along. She was too consumed with earnest love and she didn’t want to waste any more of their time today, “so how long will it be this time?”

Kara leans in close, kissing Lena with soft lips and tenderness, “forever.”