#also they had the lawn furniture out so i was able to take breaks and sit down when dizzy!

[dancedance-resolution]

nothing quite so healing as wandering around a home depot for a few hours

[sissylittlefeather]

Introducing...

A Very Quiet Life

A/N: this is an AU in which Elvis is your next door neighbor in the suburbs in the mid-late '60s. I have three parts completed and more in the works, so hang on for some chapters!

I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: The reader is a widow. That's about it. It's pretty fluffy, but don't worry. The smut is coming 😈

Song inspo:

Gif inspo (this is how I picture him in this one)

The little house is perfect for your family of 3. You stand and look at it from where you've just gotten out of your car. The white siding and blue shutters are exactly what you wanted. You'll have to get a lawnmower, though, because the yard is already a little wild.

"Mama, can we get out and see?" Your 7-year-old daughter, Jane, calls from her place on the backseat. Your 5-year-old son, Michael, is knocking on the window. The sound of the kids pulls you out of your daydream about how many wonderful memories you'll make there together. You turn around and let them both out of the car. They run up to the front door and you decide to unload the car later. The movers have already gotten all the furniture and big boxes into the house. When you open the front door, you have a soft pang in your heart as you think of how your husband had carried you across the threshold at your old apartment. Now that he's gone, you'll have to carry yourself. You walk in and go to the kitchen to start unpacking. You're excited to make this into a home. This little house is your pride and joy. Between your husband's army death benefits and your part time job typing in an office, you were finally able to save up for the house. Now it's yours and you can't wait to live here and have a real future. Since your husband died, you feel like you've been in a holding pattern. However, it's been almost 4 years, and you're ready to live again.

As you unpack glasses into the cabinet, something catches your eye out the window over the sink. The window looks into your neighbor's front yard. It's beautifully manicured and you can see why. There's a man out there cutting the grass. A very attractive man, you think to yourself. His dark hair is wet with sweat and his white t-shirt sticks to his broad chest, revealing a manly and strong physique. When he pushes the mower, his muscles flex and the veins in his forearm are visible. His skin is tanned from working outside, probably on the lawn. You don't even notice you're biting your lower lip until he looks up in the direction of your window. You gasp and drop the glass you were holding in the sink.

Can he see you?

Thankfully, the glass doesn't break and you're able to pick it up quickly and go back to what you were doing. When you take a chance and look back out the window, you see that he's shaking his head and smiling, looking down at the mower. His smile almost takes your breath away. You wonder if he's smiling because he saw you or because of something else. Deciding it must be something else, you turn and go back to unpacking boxes in the kitchen. Your neighbor is a lucky woman.

******

You smooth Michael's hair and brush some crumbs off of his front. Then, you straighten Jane's hair ribbon.

"Now, remember to smile. We want our neighbors to like us." You coo to the children just before you knock on the front door of your neighbor's house. You've been in your new home for three days, so it seems like the right time to get to know the people around you. On your right is Mrs. Pottsboro, an older lady with several cats. She was very kind and appreciative of the cookies you brought. She also volunteered to watch the children if you need her to, which is an offer you won't forget. Directly across the street are the Walters, a family of five with kids around the same ages as yours. You enjoyed a nice conversation with them while the kids munched on cookies and ran around the yard. Now, you are at the house to your left. As you knock, you briefly remember the man you saw mowing the lawn. You've seen him a couple of times since then, getting the paper and watering the grass. You really need to meet his wife and put a stop to the things you've been thinking about him.

The door opens and it feels like a ton of bricks has landed in your stomach. It's him. After a few seconds of standing there smiling like an idiot, him trying to suppress a smirk, you clear your throat and speak.

"Hi! I'm y/f/n y/l/n and this is Jane and Michael." You touch the kids on their heads as you say their names. "We just moved in next door, so we wanted to stop by and say hello and give you these." You hold out a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

"Thank you. Why don't you all come on in?" His voice is warm and the southern accent makes it sound honey-smooth. You start to sweat a little, standing on the porch. He takes the plate of cookies and gestures for you all to come in. When you pass him, you catch a wave of his scent and it's warm and masculine, like his body seems to be. A part of you longs to smell it closer, but then reality slams into you like a freight train when his wife rounds the corner.

"Oh, hello!" She's petite and blonde, with her hair twisted into a tight bun.

"Beth, our new neighbors are here. They brought us cookies." He smiles warmly at you and holds the cookies up for her to see.

"That's so sweet! Unfortunately, we don't eat sugar." She grabs the plate and tries to hand it back to you. He intercepts it.

"She doesn't eat sugar. I do." She makes a tight-lipped smile, her eyes overly bright.

"Right. Well, thank you." She walks out of the room, leaving you and your kids with him. He bends down to be face-level with your kids.

"You guys want to help me eat these?" They both smile and nod their heads, taking a cookie from the plate that he holds out to them. He seems to be enlivened by their presence, asking them questions about the new house and their new school. They respond to him easily, comfortable with him instantly.

"Does your daddy like the new house?" He asks innocently, looking up at you.

"Oh--" you try to cut in, but Jane beats you to it.

"--our daddy is gone. He died a while back. It's just us now." His face changes to a look of deep sympathy.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Jane." He looks up at you but keeps talking like he's talking to her. "If you or your mama ever need a man to do anything around the house, you just let me know. I'm right next door." Michael jumps in.

"Mister, I'm the man of the house now. I can take care of mama and Jane."

"Of course!" He smiles. "I bet you do a great job, too. If you ever need a bigger man, you come get me, okay?" He does a little fake punch on Michael's chin. Michael nods in agreement.

"Yes sir, Mr...?"

"Presley. Elvis Presley. Pleased to meet you." He shakes Michael's hand and kisses Jane's lightly. You have to shake yourself a bit to remember that you should leave.

"Alright, kiddos, we've bothered Mr. Presley long enough. Let's go back home." You try to usher the kids toward the door. As you walk out, he turns to you.

"It's really no problem at all, ma'am. I like kids. And I'm serious, if you need anything, let me know." He winks and you almost melt into a puddle on his front porch.

"Thank you, Mr. Presley."

"Elvis, please."

"Thank you, Elvis." It feels strange to call him by his first name, but since he insists, you oblige. He closes the door behind you and you take the hands of both kids and walk back to your own house.

******

You're doing dishes a few days later, looking out at your crazy yard compared to your neighbors' perfect one. For a second, you consider asking Mr. Presley to come mow it for you. But you don't want to inconvenience him. He was so kind to you and the children when you were there. His wife wasn't much to smile at, being almost cold in her refusal to talk to them. To be honest, you've thought of inviting him over several times. You've even considered breaking something just to have him come fix it, but you also know how bizarre and wrong that would be. You finish the dishes, get the kids ready for school and head to your job at the office.

******

After work, you drive up to the house, excited for the hour of free time you have before you have to pick up the kids. To your surprise, most of the yard is mowed. You're trying to figure out how that happened when you spot him. It's Elvis. He's out there mowing your yard without even being asked. As you walk up to the door, he turns and waves to you. You mouth "thank you" and walk inside the front door. You need to do something to show him that you're thankful for what he's doing. In the kitchen, you whip up some sweet tea and pour two glasses. By the time you get them on a tray and to the front porch, he's finished mowing the lawn. He's sweating again, T-shirt tight on his shoulders.

"Would you like some tea?" You ask shyly.

"I would, ma'am, thank you." He walks up on the porch and takes the glass from the tray.

"You don't have to call me ma'am. You can call me y/n."

"Oh, well, thank you y/n." He smiles and you feel yourself tense up. He's standing close enough to you that you catch the earthy smell of his sweat mixed with deodorant or aftershave or something manly. It's intoxicating. He's intoxicating. He takes a deep swig of his tea and then looks at you.

"Do you mind if I use your bathroom?" It seems like a strange request, since his house is so close, but you don't seem to be capable of telling him no. You lead him into the house to the small guest bath. When he comes out, he walks over to where you're standing in the kitchen, trying not to be too obvious about waiting for him.

"You didn't have to do that." You gesture to the yard.

"I know. But I wanted to. I was serious about you letting me know if you need any help." He smiles warmly.

"Kids still at school?" He looks around the house, seeming almost disappointed that they aren't there.

"Yes. I'll pick them up soon. I just come home a bit early to have an hour of quiet before I go get them." He nods and you suddenly realize that you're alone with him in your house. Your mind goes wild with daydreams of him laying you down on the couch and having his way with you.

"Well, thank you for the tea. I should be getting back." You nod and head for the door.

Before you can get there though, you feel a hand on your wrist. You look up into his face for half a second before he presses his lips against yours. You should pull away. You should stop him. But you don't. Instead you go limp and let him wrap his arms around your waist. The kiss is a sweet one, with no tongue or anything. He just holds you there with his mouth pushed into yours. When he finally pulls back, you feel like a rag doll in his arms. You desperately want him to keep kissing you, but he doesn't. Instead, he unravels his arms from around you and heads for the door. He mumbles a quick apology and disappears before you can say anything else.

You haven't felt this alive in years.

******

Chapter 2 coming soon!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Taglist: @itlover8000 @deniseinmn @elvisalltheway101

Want to be added to the Taglist? Let me know!

[mcmansionhell]

Underground, Part 1

[Author’s Note: A year ago, when waiting for the DC Metro, I came up with an idea for a short story involving two realtors and the infamous Las Vegas Underground House, typed up an outline, and shoved it away in my documents where it sat neglected until this month. The house recently resurfaced on Twitter, and combined with almost a year of quarantine, the story quickly materialized. Though I rarely write fiction, I decided I’d give it a shot as a kind of novelty McMansion Hell post. I’ve peppered the story with photos from the house to break up the walls of text. Hopefully you find it entertaining. I look forward to returning next month with the second installment of this as well as our regularly scheduled McMansion content. Happy New Year!

Warning: there’s lots of swearing in this.]

Underground

Back in 1997, Mathieu Rino, the son of two Finnish mechanical engineers who may or may not have worked intimately with the US State Department, changed his name to Jay Renault in order to sell more houses. It worked wonders.

He gets out of the car, shuts the door harder than he should. Renault wrinkles his nose. It’s a miserable Las Vegas afternoon - a sizzling, dry heat pools in ripples above the asphalt. The desert is a place that is full of interesting and diverse forms of life, but Jay’s the kind of American who sees it all as empty square-footage. He frowns at the dirt dusting up his alligator-skin loafers but then remembers that every lot, after all, has potential. Renault wipes the sweat from his leathery face, slicks back his stringy blond hair and adjusts the aviators on the bridge of his nose. The Breitling diving watch crowding his wrist looks especially big in the afternoon glare. He glances at it.

“Shit,” he says. The door on the other side of the car closes, as though in response. 

If Jay Renault is the consummate rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xer trying to sell houses to other rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xers, then Robert Little is his millennial counterpart. Both are very good at their jobs. Robert adjusts his tie in the reflection of the Porsche window, purses his lips. He’s Vegas-showman attractive, with dark hair, a decent tan, and a too-bright smile - the kind of attractive that ruins marriages but makes for an excellent divorcee. Mildly sleazy.

“Help me with these platters, will you?” Renault gestures, popping the trunk. Robert does not want to sweat too much before an open house, but he obliges anyway. They’re both wearing suits. The heat is unbearable. A spread of charcuterie in one hand, Jay double-checks his pockets for the house keys, presses the button that locks his car. 

Both men sigh, and their eyes slowly trail up to the little stucco house sitting smack dab in the center of an enormous lot, a sea of gravel punctuated by a few sickly palms. The house has the distinct appearance of being made of cardboard, ticky-tacky, a show prop. Burnt orange awnings don its narrow windows, which somehow makes it look even more fake. 

“Here we go again,” Jay mutters, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He jiggles them until the splintered plywood door opens with a croak, revealing a dark and drab interior – dusty, even though the cleaners were here yesterday. Robert kicks the door shut with his foot behind him.

 “Christ,” he swears, eyes trailing over the terrible ecru sponge paint adorning the walls. “This shit is so bleak.”

The surface-level house is mostly empty. There’s nothing for them to see or attend to there, and so the men step through a narrow hallway at the end of which is an elevator. They could take the stairs, but don’t want to risk it with the platters. After all, they were quite expensive. Renault elbows the button and the doors part. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” he says as they step inside. The fluorescent lights above them buzz something awful. A cheery metal sign welcomes them to “Tex’s Hideaway.” Beneath it is an eldritch image of a cave, foreboding. Robert’s stomach’s in knots. Ever since the company assigned him to this property, he’s been terrified of it. He tells himself that the house is, in fact, creepy, that it is completely normal for him to be ill at ease. The elevator’s ding is harsh and mechanical. They step out. Jay flips a switch and the basement is flooded with eerie light. 

It’s famous, this house - The Las Vegas Underground House. The two realtors refer to it simply as “the bunker.” Built by an eccentric millionaire at the height of Cold War hysteria, it’s six-thousand square feet of paranoid, aspirational fantasy. The first thing anyone notices is the carpet – too-green, meant to resemble grass, sprawling out lawn-like, bookmarked by fake trees, each a front for a steel beam. Nothing can grow here. It imitates life, unable to sustain it. The leaves of the ficuses seem particularly plastic.

Bistro sets scatter the ‘yard’ (if one can call it that), and there’s plenty of outdoor activities – a parquet dance floor complete with pole and disco ball, a putt putt course, an outdoor grill made to look like it’s nestled in a rock, but in reality better resembles a baked potato. The pool and hot tub, both sculpted in concrete and fiberglass mimicking a natural rock formation, are less Playboy grotto and more Fred Flintstone. It’s a very seventies idea of fun.

Then, of course, there’s the house. That fucking house. 

A house built underground in 1978 was always meant to be a mansard – the mansard roof was a historical inevitability. The only other option was International Style modernism, but the millionaire and his wife were red-blooded anti-Communists. Hence, the mansard. Robert thinks the house looks like a fast-food restaurant. Jay thinks it looks like a lawn and tennis club he once attended as a child where he took badminton lessons from a swarthy Czech man named Jan. It’s drab and squat, made more open by big floor-to-ceiling windows nestled under fresh-looking cedar shingles. There’s no weather down here to shrivel them up.

“Shall we?” Jay drawls. The two make their way into the kitchen and set the platters down on the white tile countertop. Robert leans up against the island, careful of the oversized hood looming over the electric stovetop. He eyes the white cabinets, accented with Barbie pink trim. The matching linoleum floor squeaks under his Italian loafers. 

“I don’t understand why we bother doing this,” Robert complains. “Nobody’s seriously going to buy this shit, and the company’s out a hundred bucks for party platters.”

“It’s the same every time,” Renault agrees. “The only people who show up are Instagram kids and the crazies - you know, the same kind of freaks who’d pay money to see Chernobyl.” 

“Dark tourism, they call it.”

Jay checks his watch again. Being in here makes him nervous.

“Still an hour until open house,” he mutters. “I wish we could get drunk.”

Robert exhales deeply. He also wishes he could get drunk, but still, a job’s a job.

“I guess we should check to see if everything’s good to go.”

The men head into the living room. The beamed, slanted ceiling gives it a mid-century vibe, but the staging muddles the aura. Jay remembers making the call to the staging company. “Give us your spares,” he told them, “Whatever it is you’re not gonna miss. Nobody’ll ever buy this house anyway.” 

The result is eclectic – a mix of office furniture, neo-Tuscan McMansion garb, and stuffy waiting-room lamps, all scattered atop popcorn-butter shag carpeting. Hideous, Robert thinks. Then there’s the ‘entertaining’ room, which is a particular pain in the ass to them, because the carpet was so disgusting, they had to replace it with that fake wood floor just to be able to stand being in there for more than five minutes. There’s a heady stone fireplace on one wall, the kind they don’t make anymore, a hearth. Next to it, equally hedonistic, a full bar. Through some doors, a red-painted room with a pool table and paintings of girls in fedoras on the wall. It’s all so cheap, really. Jay pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. He ticks some boxes and moves on.

The dining room’s the worst to Robert. Somehow the ugly floral pattern on the curtains stretches up in bloomer-like into a frilly cornice, carried through to the wallpaper and the ceiling, inescapable, suffocating. It smells like mothballs and old fabric. The whole house smells like that. 

The master bedroom’s the most normal – if anything in this house could be called normal. Mismatched art and staging furniture crowd blank walls. When someone comes into a house, Jay told Robert all those years ago, they should be able to picture themselves living in it. That’s the goal of staging. 

There’s two more bedrooms. The men go through them quickly. The first isn’t so bad – claustrophobic, but acceptable – but the saccharine pink tuille wallpaper of the second gives Renault a sympathetic toothache. The pair return to the kitchen to wait.

Both men are itching to check their phones, but there’s no point – there’s no signal in here, none whatsoever. Renault, cynical to the core, thinks about marketing the house to the anti-5G people. It’s unsettlingly quiet. The two men have no choice but to entertain themselves the old-fashioned way, through small talk.

“It’s really fucked up, when you think about it,” Renault muses.

“What is?”

“The house, Bob.”

Robert hates being called Bob. He’s told Jay that hundreds of times, and yet…

“Yeah,” Robert mutters, annoyed.

“No, really. Like, imagine. You’re rich, you founded a major multinational company marketing hairbrushes to stay-at-home moms, and what do you decide to do with your money? Move to Vegas and build a fucking bunker. Like, imagine thinking the end of the world is just around the corner, forcing your poor wife to live there for ten, fifteen years, and then dying, a paranoid old man.” Renault finds the whole thing rather poetic. 

“The Russkies really got to poor ol’ Henderson, didn’t they?” Robert snickers.

“The wife’s more tragic if you ask me,” Renault drawls. “The second that batshit old coot died, she called a guy to build a front house on top of this one, since she already owned the lot. Poor woman probably hadn’t seen sunlight in God knows how long.”

“Surely they had to get groceries.”

Jay frowns. Robert has no sense of drama, he thinks. Bad trait for a realtor.

“Still,” he murmurs. “It’s sad.”

“I would have gotten a divorce, if I were her,” the younger man says, as though it were obvious. It’s Jay’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve had three of those, and trust me, it’s not as easy as you think.”

“You’re seeing some new girl now, aren’t you?” Robert doesn’t really care, he just knows Jay likes to talk about himself, and talking fills the time.  

“Yeah. Casino girl. Twenty-six.”

“And how old are you again?”

“None of your business.”

“Did you see the renderings I emailed to you?” Robert asks briskly, not wanting to discuss Jay’s sex life any further.

“What renderings?”

“Of this house, what it could look like.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jay has not seen the renderings.

“If it were rezoned,” Robert continues, feeling very smart, “It could be a tourist attraction - put a nice visitor’s center on the lot, make it sleek and modern. Sell trinkets. It’s a nice parcel, close to the Strip - some clever investor could make it into a Museum of Ice Cream-type thing, you know?”

“Museum of Ice Cream?”

“In New York. It’s, not, like, educational or anything. Really, it’s just a bunch of colorful rooms where kids come to take pictures of themselves.”

“Instagram,” Jay mutters. “You know, I just sold a penthouse the other week to an Instagram influencer. Takes pictures of herself on the beach to sell face cream or some shit. Eight-point-two million dollars.”

“Jesus,” Robert whistles. “Fat commission.”

“You’re telling me. My oldest daughter turns sixteen this year. She’s getting a Mazda for Christmas.”

“You ever see that show, My Super Sweet Sixteen? On MTV? Where rich kids got, like, rappers to perform at their birthday parties? Every time at the end, some guy would pull up in, like, an Escalade with a big pink bow on it and all the kids would scream.”

“Sounds stupid,” Jay says.

“It was stupid.”

It’s Robert’s turn to check his watch, a dainty gold Rolex.

“Fuck, still thirty minutes.”

“Time really does stand still in here, doesn’t it?” Jay remarks.

“We should have left the office a little later,” Robert complains. “The charcuterie is going to get –“

A deafening sound roars through the house and a violent, explosive tremor throws both men on the ground, shakes the walls and everything between them. The power’s out for a few seconds before there’s a flicker, and light fills the room again. Two backup generators, reads Jay’s description in the listing - an appeal to the prepper demographic, which trends higher in income than non-preppers. For a moment, the only things either are conscious of are the harsh flourescent lighting and the ringing in their ears. Time slows, everything seems muted and too bright. Robert rubs the side of his face, pulls back his hand and sees blood.

“Christ,” he chokes out. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Jay breathes, looking at his hands, trying to determine if he’s got a concussion. The results are inconclusive – everything’s slow and fuzzy, but after a moment, he thinks it might just be shock.

“It sounded like a fucking 747 just nosedived on top of us.” 

“Yeah, Jesus.” Jay’s still staring at his fingers in a daze. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Robert grumbles. Jay gives him a cursory examination.

“Nothing that needs stitches,” he reports bluntly. Robert’s relieved. His face sells a lot of houses to a lot of lonely women and a few lonely men. There’s a muffled whine, which the two men soon recognize as a throng of sirens. Both of them try to calm the panic rising in their chests, to no avail.

“Whatever the fuck happened,” Jay says, trying to make light of the situation, “At least we’re in here. The bunker.”

Fear forms in the whites of Robert’s eyes.

“What if we’re stuck in here,” he whispers, afraid to speak such a thing into the world. The fear spreads to his companion.

“Try the elevator,” Jay urges, and Robert gets up, wobbles a little as his head sorts itself out, and leaves. A moment later, Jay hears him swear a blue streak, and from the kitchen window, sees him standing before the closed metal doors, staring at his feet. His pulse racing, Renault jogs out to see for himself.

“It’s dead,” Robert murmurs. 

“Whatever happened,” Jay says cautiously, rubbing the back of his still-sore neck, “It must have been pretty bad. Like, I don’t think we should go up yet. Besides, surely the office knows we’re still down here.”

“Right, right,” the younger man breathes, trying to reassure himself.

“Let’s just wait it out. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The way Jay says it does not make Robert feel any better. 

“Okay,” the younger man grumbles. “I’m getting a fucking drink, though.”

“Yeah, Jesus. That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” Renault shoves his hands in his suit pocket to keep them from trembling.  

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[drabbles-mc]

Family Time

EZ Reyes x Reader

Request by the wonderful @ly--canthrope: Shopping for the coming baby and the reader and him are giggly, soft, soon-to-be parents and they end up decorating the nursery together that afternoon and their dog is with them and gets curious about the baby bump and then curls up on the reader’s chest, protecting her because she is the valuable one

Warnings: EZ being a super sweet and cute human, a protective doggo, and baby fever

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: We love a little baby fever for our boy!! EZ would be such a phenomenal dad and you cannot convince me otherwise. Also did I do a little projection with the nursery decorations?? Possibly.

EZ Taglist: @noz4a2​ @queenbeered​ @sincerelyasomebody​ @sadeyesgf​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @appropriate-writers-name​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @sillygoose6969​ @louisianalady​ @gemini0410​ @paintballkid711​ @chibsytelford​ @yourwonkywriter​ (If you want to be added to the tags for any of my writing please let me know!)

“Oh but wouldn’t this look cute on the wall above the crib?” you pointed at the framed picture on the top shelf.

EZ smiled, shaking his head, “I just wanna know, Querida,” he walked over to you, resting his hand on your ever-growing baby bump, “how much Winnie the Pooh stuff are you planning on putting in our baby’s room?”

You laughed, placing your hands on top of his, “As much as I can!” you rubbed your stomach lightly, “How long have you been thinking about decorating the nursery?”

He shrugged, “Ever since you told me that you’re pregnant.”

You nodded, “Right. So you’ve been thinking about this for about seven months. I’ll even say a year, since we started talking about kids. But, I, on the other hand,” you laid your hand against your chest, “have been day-dreaming about decorating my baby’s nursery ever since I knew I wanted to be a mom. I got lots of ideas in here,” you tapped the side of your head.

There was a soft smile on EZ’s face and you could feel the love radiating off of him, “I love you,” he leaned in and kissed you.

You smiled, “I love you too.”

He stood up on his toes, reaching the top shelf that you couldn’t and placed the frame in the cart, “But you realize the nursery isn’t that big, right? I mean, we’ll still need somewhere to put the actual baby when they get here.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “There will be room. Besides, babies are small. They could fit anywhere.”

EZ laughed, “I’m not sure that that’s the mentality we should be having,” he leaned against the cart, “How about we take this stuff and cash out. We can head home and start decorating the nursery, and if when we’re done we still have room, we can come out shopping again next week and I won’t give you a hard time about not having room to put the baby somewhere. Deal?”

You smiled, resting your hands on your stomach, “Deal.”

The two of you pulled into the driveway of your house. The second that EZ cut the engine on the car you could hear the dog barking inside. You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head. He knew the sound of EZ’s car and yet, despite the countless days he’s heard EZ pull into the driveway, he still loses it every time it happens.

EZ comes over and helps you out of the car. For a while you would try to wave him off, saying that you were pregnant, not incapable. But he would continue to insist, so eventually you stopped fighting him on it. You asked if there were any bags that he’d let you carry in, knowing that he wouldn’t let you do the One-Trip Olympics like you had before you were pregnant. He smiled, handing you the smallest bag as he collected up the rest of them. You rolled your eyes with a smile as you left him to his devices.

You made it to the front door, turning the key in the lock. You tried the best you could to stand off to the side as you opened the door, knowing that your dog was going to fly out into the yard and head right over to EZ. He’d always liked EZ more and you had never really questioned it—EZ was the one who brought him home from the shelter, after all. He was nice to you, but very rarely did he ever get cozy with you.

He came tearing out across the lawn and was attempting to jump on EZ despite the fact that he had multiple bags in each hand. EZ laughed, trying to carefully step around the shepherd that was jumping at him, “Down, boy. Easy.”

He was refusing to let up so you whistled, calling him over to you, “Apollo! Come!”

The dog whipped his head back around to you and slowly trotted over. You stood just inside the door to the house, coaxing him in so that EZ could walk in peace. He trailed happily behind the two of you, sniffing excitedly at the bags that EZ was carrying.

“Looks like we have an extra helper for decorating,” you laughed as Apollo sat in the doorway of the nursery.

“If only he had thumbs,” EZ chuckled.

Both of you looked around the nursery. Painting was already done—EZ had enlisted Angel’s help with that. They’d let you help with that solely because they hated doing the taping. Over the course of a weekend the three of you had turned the previously blank walls of the nursery into a forest scene. While it was for the baby it would be the 100 Acre Wood to keep with your Winnie the Pooh theme, but it was a neutral enough paint job that it could grow up with your child. At least, that was the way that you had pitched the idea to EZ.

The big things had already been put together thanks to Felipe. He wasn’t going to have either of you fretting over putting together the crib and dresser when those were things that he could easily take care of in an afternoon. He’d even attached a mobile to the crib, and also went out and found a nice little bookshelf when you had mentioned it was something you had been thinking of for the baby. He wasn’t always the most verbally expressive man, but you’d never doubted for a second that he loved you and the baby that you had on the way.

“Alright, so what do we need to get into place?” EZ looked over to you for some direction.

You pressed your lips together in thought, “Okay, we need to get the changing table in here, along with the little standalone closet. Plus we got a couple shelves to throw up on the walls. And the string lights. And the framed photos,” you paused, “Oh and the reading corner with the chair.”

“So…the whole room,” EZ laughed as he rested his hand on the back of his neck.

You smiled walking up and kissing him on the cheek, “We don’t need to get it all done today. We got time.”

He rested his hands on your bump, smiling, “Not as much as we think, Querida,” he didn’t take his hands off of you as he continued to talk, “I’ll take care of the changing table and the closet to start. If you want to find a place for the string lights and stuff, I can bring in the chair afterwards and we can work together on the reading corner, okay?”

You nodded, resting your hands on top of his for a moment, “Sounds good. Thank you for doing all the heavy lifting, EZ.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “You’re carrying the most important thing. The least I can do is move some furniture around.”

You were able to hang up the lights and even a couple of the framed photos as EZ got the bulkier furniture all situated in the room. He was right—the nursery wasn’t a huge room, but somehow it still didn’t feel cramped despite all of the things that you were moving into it. It felt cozy, and you couldn’t want for the three of you to spend time there.

“Okay,” EZ took a deep breath, “where’s the chair going?”

You gestured to where the string lights were, “I figured over there? That way there will be some nice soft light while we’re in here reading.”

He smiled, nodding, “Sounds perfect.”

You hated that you pretty much just had to sit back and watch him do everything, but you knew that even if you tried to assist he’d shoo you away. After he situated the chair, he sat down in it and looked around the room. He nodded in approval and waved you over. You crossed the room to meet him, interlocking your fingers with his. He attempted to pull you onto his lap but you shook your head.

“I’m two people now, EZ,” you laughed, “I’ll crush you.”

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. I’m way too strong to be crushed. C’mere,” he tugged at your arm.

You sighed, wanting to pretend that you were annoyed with his persistence but you really loved it. You took his hand in yours and tugged him towards you, “I’d be so much more comfortable just cuddling with you on the couch. You deserve a break from all the hard work anyway,” you lifted his hand to your lips and placed a kiss on his knuckles, “The little stuff can wait until tomorrow.”

The two of you got situated on the couch. You were leaning against EZ’s side, his arm wrapped around you so that he could keep you close but also feel any motion that the baby made. For a few weeks already you had been feeling intermittent kicks, and the sensation never got old. You loved how excited EZ got every time that it happened.

“You’re still okay with not knowing ahead of time?” you asked him as you rubbed your hand over your stomach.

He smiled, nodding, “I like the surprise. No matter what they’re going to be so loved,” he kissed your temple, “Just like their mother.”

You smiled, settling back into him, “I love you.”

He pressed his lips to the side of your head again, “I love you too.”

You both returned your attention to the show you were watching. Every now and then you’d feel a small kick in your stomach, and you’d look over to see EZ with an ecstatic smile plastered across his face as he soaked in the moment. He’d lightly trace his thumb along your stomach for a few moments before his eyes returned to the TV screen.

You heard the jingling of a collar and suddenly Apollo was trying to climb into your lap. You laughed, trying to resituate yourself so that the couch could comfortably hold all three of you. Despite your efforts to make space for him to have his own section of cushion, he was determined to lay with his head in your lap. You and EZ both looked at each other and shared a confused laugh, unsure where the sudden bout of cuddliness came from.

His head was nestled against your stomach and thigh. You gently pet his head and neck, reveling in how calm your usually excited pup was. A few minutes passed with all of you enjoying the calm that had taken over your household. Then you felt another kick. You looked at Apollo, and you could tell that he felt it too. You chuckled quietly to yourself as he pressed his nose against your stomach, trying to figure out what had just happened. While his nose was pressed against the fabric of your shirt, there was another kick. His ears perked up and he looked at you as if to ask if you could explain what had just happened.

You scratched behind his ears, “It’s okay. It’s just the baby. You’ll meet them soon.”

He stared intently at your stomach for a few more moments, waiting for something else to happen. When all was still quiet, he laid his head back into your lap. You watched him for a few moments, chuckling to yourself at the way his eyes would dart over to your stomach every so often before he would close them.

“You think he knows?” EZ asked as he watched the whole scene unfold.

You nod, “I think so. He’s getting ready to love someone else in this house more than he loves either of us,” you chuckled, “You’re about to be de-throned, knocked out of the number one spot on his list.”

He laughed, kissing the top of your head, “I’m alright with that.”

[gryffindors-weasley]

Finding A Light // Final Part

Ron Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: New beginnings are made and the future is looking up for the two of you.

Warnings: mild angst, mentions of anxiety, mentions of food, fluff, kisses

A/N: Thank you for all the love you’ve given for this series! I had so much fun creating it and I’m so glad you all have enjoyed it!!

Part One , Part Two , Part Three , Part Four

(not my gif)

1 Year Later

A dusting of powdery snow had been fluttering down from the sky, coating everything it could land on in a layer of sparkling white. Christmas was perhaps the most enchanting time of year at Hogwarts, the snow gathering on the grand castle paired with the lavish decorations creating a wonderland. Hogsmeade wasn’t any less enthralling, however, the glowing lanterns casting a warm glow on the cozy little village that was bustling with holiday cheer. Shimmering tinsel and garlands swirled around every lamppost, holiday cheer buzzing through the air from the bundled up students walking about. A rather large tree had stood tall at the center of it all, ornaments of varying shapes and sizes thoughtfully placed around the magically illuminated greenery.

It was hard to take your eyes off of, though Ron found it hard to take his eyes off of you.

You pulled your gaze away from the window, catching glimpse of the blue eyes not so secretly lingering on you. A smile tugged at your lips as Ron flushed a soft pink, looking to his side as he brushed the hair out of his face.

“I’m convinced you’ll never be discreet when you’re staring, Love,” you say with a laugh, watching as he turned his head to face you, so fast his hair fell back in his eyes.

“I was not staring!” He defends, too quick for it to be truthful, biting the inside of his cheek to refrain from smiling.

You tilt your head to the side as you narrow your eyes at him playfully and he looks down at his hands. “I felt your eyes on me the moment I looked away, Ron.”

He glanced up at you through ginger lashes and squinted for a moment, stirring his spoon around in his tea as he accepted his defeat. You smile triumphantly as you dipped your fork in his cake, taking a contented bite.

“Well, I’m convinced you love to pick on me,” he quips as he rests his chin in his palm, raising a brow at you while you laugh.

“I’d say you’re right.”

He frowns momentarily before you reach over the small table and tap your finger on the very tip of his nose. His smile was instant as he stole your fork, though really it had been his, taking a bite of his chocolate cake. Icing had inevitably accumulated at the corner of his mouth and now you had reason to kiss it off, you’d always wanted to for longer than you cared to admit.

When you pull away, a deeper blush stained his cheeks as he smiled down at his plate somewhat bashfully, pushing his dessert around as butterflies bounced around in his stomach. He’s quite sure you’ll have this affect on him for the rest of his life.

“So, uh, we’re having my family over for Christmas, yeah?” He asks, anything to redirect your attention to something other than how flustered you make him.

“Yeah! We need to head to Honeydukes and buy some sweets for everyone, your mother loved those chocolates we got the last time.”

He nods, watching you with a fluttering heart as you get excited about your plans for the following week. He feels he’ll never grow tired of admiring you, no matter how much you tease him for it. You just had a way of enchanting him more than any love spell he was put under in his teens. Perhaps it was the way you made it feel like he was the only one in the room when you talked to him. Maybe it was the way every kiss felt like the very first you shared that night on your doorstep, every touch setting his skin ablaze. In his love-clouded distraction, his eyes wander upwards, catching glimpse of the mistletoe Madam Puddifoot hung over the table. He’d been eying it ever since the two of you got there. The corners of his mouth immediately turned up as he beamed at you.

“What is it?” You question, raising your brow in amused curiosity as you trail off in your rambling about your holiday dinner plans.

He reaches up and jingles the mistletoe that dangles over your heads as an invitation, and he laughs softly. “I think this means you’ve got to kiss me now, Love.”

You laugh at his as you break his gaze momentarily to keep from flushing as red as the table cloth. But when you turn back to him his stare is much softer as he looks at you. Then you lean forward, lips pressing to his in a kiss tasting of chocolate cake and tea.

“How long have you known that was there?” You ask with a quiet laugh.

“If I told you only just now, would you kiss me again?”

You pretend to take his question into consideration, tapping your finger to your lips as you ponder. Though it wasn’t long before you pecked his lips once more, for kissing him was something that didn’t need second thought.

“We’d better get to the shop before everyone’s bought up all the good stuff,” you say, reluctantly pulling away from him and slipping on your coat with a sigh. Of course, all you really wanted to do was keep kissing him for the entirety of that day, but you suppose that could wait for later.

He nods in agreement as he slides on his flannel jacket, zipping it up before reaching for your hand in habit. The cold weather nipped against your skin the moment you left the tea shop, delicate flurries of snow immediately catching in your hair. Laughter rung out through the village as you walked along in a comfortable silence, enveloped hands swinging lightly between you.

His hand squeezes yours ever so slightly as he hums, keeping you close to his side as if to keep you from getting too cold. With the way he’d warmed your heart, you think it’s enough to protect you. You reach your other hand up to wrap around his arm, leaning up and kissing his cheek sweetly. You missed the way he smiled down at you, and you missed the puffs of air leaving his lips as he exhaled a breathy laugh. But he hadn’t missed the way you smiled at your feet and laughed a little.

“What?” He inquires in amusement.

“Nothing,” you shrug. “Just in love is all.”

1 Week Later

Ron had been rather groggy that morning, unwilling to release you from his grip as he burrowed his face deeper into the crook of your neck. The dull scent of your perfume still lingered there, doing a satisfactory job at grasping his attention. The rain trickled steadily down the chilled windowpanes one after another, the gloomy weather making it all the more enticing to stay tucked within the warmth of the bed with the love of your life but your plans for the day had insisted otherwise. It was the first time Ron’s family would be seeing your shared cottage.

It was a cozy little place nestled amongst others, though no two were ever alike. The moment you had found it, the decision was one that wasn’t hard to make. It was absolutely perfect for you both. Built from beige stone slabs and slate shingles, flowers littered the perimeter and sprouted in the lawn. A weathered white fence surrounded it, your address painted on it in metallic copper paint. Within it held layers of flannel blankets and bookshelves full of old books and framed pictures, mismatched furniture and unpolished candelabras with melted candles of varying heights. Enchanted clocks hang on the walls and the fireplace is almost always burning, casting a constant warm glow wherever it reached.

It was a culmination of you both and you were quite sure you could spend the rest of your life there with him. Well, to put it quite simply, he was. He didn’t even try to hide it at this point, too tired and too in love to.

“Love, we’ve got to get up now. Your family is coming over, you know,” you say softly, running your fingers through his tangled hair. A shiver runs across your skin as his fingertips trace invisible shapes along your hip, soon to be followed by quiet snores once again as his hand stills. “Ron!”

His arm tightens around your waist as he makes a failed attempt to lift his head and look at you, his nose brushing along the skin of your neck. He gave up his efforts with ease and kisses your jaw blindly, a quiet groan leaving his lips before he yawns. 

“But sunshine, I don’t want to,” He mumbles in disagreement, tangling his legs with yours. “Five more minutes?”

You found it rather hard to ignore the gruffness of his voice as his words vibrate against your skin, a soft blush staining your cheeks that you were grateful he hadn’t been able to see. He rolled onto his back, pulling you with him and you immediately curl against him despite the very obvious need to get out of bed. The warmth of his arms and softness of his kisses was just intoxicating enough for you to stay put for just a little longer.

“You said that an hour ago,” you giggle, the sound causing a sleepy grin to pull at his lips. You found yourself staring; at the way his nose curved upwards, at the remnants his smile on his pink lips, at the way his ginger lashes splay across the very tops of his cheeks. Even more distracting was the light smattering of freckles across his skin, each one cuter than the last. You had to bring yourself to look away before your gazing was noticed. “If we wait any longer they just might burst through the door.”

He turns his head to look at you, his eyes bouncing across every inch of your face as if to memorize every feature he loved so very much. You came into his life rather ungracefully and full of sweets, and you’ve taken up residence in his mind every single day since then. It seems only fair that he gazes at you without the need to be discreet at this point. Maybe he was also stalling to get you to stay in bed a bit longer too.

He protests the moment he felt you slip from his arms, brows knit together under utterly unruly ginger hair. You raise a brow at him as you cross your arms over your chest, watching as he sits up and pouts his lips ever so slightly in hint of what he’d so clearly been wanting. 

It was next to impossible to resist it, though you did roll your eyes as you padded over to him and kissed him sweetly. He lingered over your lips as a soft smile pulled at his own, his nose brushing against yours. Though Ron Weasley was too predictable for you, a laugh leaving your lips as you spin away from him before he could pull you back down.

“See you downstairs,” You call over your shoulder. Ron sighs with a fond smile, rubbing his hands over his face before finding the energy to get out of bed for the day.

He met you downstairs still not having changed from his pajamas, which had only been a sweater and his underwear, his hair still the tangled mop it had been moments before. His lips press gently to your hair in greeting as he passes by you on the way to the coffee pot, smiling delightedly upon seeing it’s already been made and prepared just the way he likes.

“It’s only 9 o’clock in the morning, do we really have to start cooking dinner now, darling?” He grumbles over his steaming mug, peering at you over the rim.

You scoff incredulously, spinning on your heel to face him with narrowed eyes as you clutch a spatula in your hand. “I want it to be perfect, Ronald.”

He frowns at the use of his full name but it’s soon replaced in favor of a smile when you lean on your toes and kiss him, feeling as though maybe you’d been a bit too harsh. His lips tasted of coffee and the excessive amount of cream he likes in it, his eyes closing sleepily as he finds himself blindly chasing after you for another and another.

“Whatever you say,” he hums in content.

“Now if you would please help me, that would be great,” you say softly, kissing his forehead before moving to prepare for the afternoon ahead.

—

Dinner and dessert was made successfully in perfect timing, though the most help Ron had offered wasn’t very much help at all, constantly stealing food and insisting he was just testing it. The table was set with your best plates and silverware, though the extra chairs you had pulled in to accommodate the large family were mismatched. Everything was cleaned and bookshelves were dusted, the sweetest of your candles were lit and you had on your best clothes.

“Sweetheart, it’s going to be just fine. They’ll love it,” Ron laughs softly, grabbing your hands and stopping your nervous pacing. “They love you.”

His words paired with the look he’d been giving you was enough to settle your nerves for the time being. He looked rather cute; dressed in the slacks he used for teaching, a button-up and an adorable sweater vest to go over top. His hair had since been brushed out though with the lengths it’s become, it’s hard to be anything but messy.

You nod lightly as you fumble with his tie, and he could tell you still hadn’t been assured so he settled for kissing your forehead.

The sound of car doors had soon interrupted your moment, and upon a closer look you saw a cluster of red hair and colorful knit scarves rushing through the front gate. Ron smile warmly at you as the doorbell rang, releasing your hand to open the door.

Mrs. Weasley gasped immediately upon stepping through the house, arms open widely and pulling the two of you into a very tight hug as Arthur and Charlie follow in close behind her with armfuls of housewarming gifts.

“Oh it’s so much more beautiful than you described, Ron!” She pinched his cheeks cheerfully much to his dismay as the tips of his ears turn cherry red, his face soon matching it before she turns to kiss your cheeks. “It’s absolutely wonderful, my dear.”

You smile brightly as a blush coats your cheeks.

“Yeah, Ronniekins! I’m sure Y/n did all the decorating,” George teases, Ron quickly narrowing his eyes at him.

Bill instantly stops him before a harmless jinx could leave his mouth by sputtering out a greeting. He pulls you in for a hug and a kiss to the top of your head. “Easy, Ron, we don’t need anymore blue hair mishaps.”

Bill’s tone is light as he ruffles his brothers hair, not helping any with Ron’s grumbling.

“Ronniekins,” you coo, pinching his cheek much softer than his mother as you tease him with a scrunched nose and soft laugh. He mimicked your expression as he shakes his head, nose brushing against yours.

“Not you too!” He whines, knowing full well you’d never pass up an opportunity to tease him.

You were soon whisked away by Ginny, however, who had been dying to sit with you at dinner ever since she’d been made aware of the plans. Ron had flashed a frown when George swoops in And takes the seat to your left, though it’s only playful. Maybe he missed you a bit too. He barely got two words in before every dug in to the food before them, so he gave up completely and soon found himself with a mountains worth of dinner on his own plate.

Fred’s absence hadn’t gone unnoticed nor did the brief moment where conversation had paused, save for the clinking of silverware. But it wasn’t quite as upsetting as the last time you recall, more bittersweet and fond though he was still missed dearly.

“Your cooking is wonderful, Y/n,” Percy compliments at the other end of the table, a chorus of muffled agreements sounding after him.

“Thank you, Percy. I’m so glad you could make it,” you say as you smile warmly, the family’s assurance dissolving any last bit of worry you had.

You had no reason to be nervous in the first place, they had cherished you just as much as you did them. Regardless, it brightened your mood to know that they had approved of everything you had done to make everything perfect.

Conversation was easily swept away from that point on. Molly spoke of Arthur’s achievements as work, to which he tried to play it down with rosy cheeks but of course she would not have any such thing. In turn, you spoke of Ron’s and he flushed redder than his hair as he smiled down at his plate. Though he nearly choked on his bread when you decided to mention the fact that a students boggart had also been spiders, an embarrassing moment he’d be perfectly happy with stuffing away forever and ever. He knew you wouldn’t let it go and he nudged you under the table as you giggled softly.

Charlie spoke extensively about a new species of dragons he’d gotten the opportunity to tend to. Everyone nearly rolled their eyes at his long winded conversation about the different types of dragon scales and what they each mean.

Bill talked of his travels and the countries he’s been able to see, though he couldn’t go too long without the mention of Fluer. He was head over heels for her and it was rather endearing to see the way his face lit up upon every mention of his lover. You immediately knew where Ron had gotten it from.

George had pulled your focus away to talk about his shop, and to more secretly discuss his newest prank up his sleeve for the next time the two of you come to the Burrow. He also made several comments on how much he loved dessert, and how Fred would have loved everything even more. He even brought you a few trinkets from the shop that he knew you’d appreciate, gifting them to you with a ruffle of your hair and a thanks for taking care of his little brother.

And perhaps the most enthralling conversation was the one you had with Ginny, who’d waited till steady conversation was had before she broke off to speak of things long overdue. She gushed about Harry and his endeavors, a pink blush on her cheeks as she thought of her lover fondly. She mentioned the gift she’d suspected he’d gotten her for Christmas, and the one she’d gotten him. She talked of quidditch and how she’d advanced her team in the professional tournament, allowing them to take the trip across the world. She was so happy and excited that you let her take over the conversation, a smile on your lips as she did.

It was an eventful dinner, a dull moment never arising, not that you had expected it to. Everyone had since moved to the living room, taking up couches and loveseats and recliners to continue the chats they had started at the table. The fireplace was roaring and the candelabras had been lit, Molly even started the record player. Inevitably, she asked Arthur to dance but he didn’t put up much of a fuss about it.

It was wonderful and it was everything you’d hoped it to be.

A moment alone had finally been managed amongst the joyful chaos of the Weasley’s, Ron’s arms encircling your waist in a long awaited embrace as his lips press to your cheek in a tender kiss. You smile as his nose brushes along your flushed skin, and soon he was grinning against the corner of your mouth as he laughed softly.

“What’s so funny?” You ask with a laugh of your own, pulling back to look at him curiously. You run your thumb across his cheek and his eyes crinkle with his growing smile.

The orange glow of the sunset peeking through fading rain clouds had filtered in through the kitchen window, shimmering warmly in his matching hair and illuminating the adoring look dancing in his eyes. You wrap your arms around his neck, his forehead pressed against yours and he takes a moment or two to ponder his response.

“Nothing,” he murmurs in the close proximity, dipping down to kiss you delicately before lingering there, his warm breath on your lips before repeating the words you’d spoken just a week prior. “Just in love is all.”

Your hand moves to settle on his cheek as you lean up and kiss him sweetly, and he pulls you impossibly closer as he hums against your lips. His cheeks were flushed a pale crimson when you part, a soft smile on his face.

“Is that so?” You ask quietly, still inches from his lips when you brush the hair out of his eyes before resting your hands on his chest.

He tucks your hair behind your ear as you gaze up at him, his lips pink and kiss swollen and waiting for more. He nods without hesitation and your smile widens a fraction. “Yeah, it is.”

You beam at him, leaning up on your toes and hugging him tightly, so much so he stumbles back a bit. But it doesn’t matter, because the way you’re holding him seems to be pulling all his broken pieces together. Though it seems as though he’d been mended since the very first time he met you.

He smiles brightly as he closes his eyes, your head resting on his shoulder as he thinks about it. The laughter of his family filtering in from the next room over. The heat in his cheeks whenever you kiss him, whenever you look at him. The sweet smell of your perfume lingering just under his nose. The very kitchen you stood in, in the very place you’ve come to call your home. Each and every one of those things crossed his mind in that moment and he found himself unable to think of anything else but that. Nothing else but you.

“I love you, Ron Weasley.”

Amongst the darkness that once enveloped his life, Ron Weasley finally found his light.

—

Tags: @vogueweasley @theweasleysredhair @writeroutoftime @n3ssm0nique @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq

[lycanthrop-ee]

Ghosting - Empty House

A/N: !!!!! It’s here! I’m so, so pumped for this- welcome to the Empty House AU! This is the first piece of content I’m publishing and it’s a one-shot from a bigger universe, but it’s also absolutely a stand-alone fic. It’s a self-indulgent, analogical-centric human AU that’s has been floating around my hollow skull for months now, so there’s a lot of doodles backed up if any of yall would like to see that ;) There will be an AU taglist, but I also have an individual writing taglist!

Synopsis: Logan has finally moved out of his childhood home into a family-sized house where he plans to finish college online. His simple plans are complicated when a strange, sad-looking boy starts showing up outside...

Word count: 4,306

Ships: Endgame romantic Analogical

CW: (spoilers) Pre-plot major character death, swearing, anxiety attack, very mildly implied previous parental abuse, be safe kiddos and ask to tag!

The first time Logan saw the boy was the day he moved in. 

The empty house had stood hollowly beside its driveway, Logan feeling small without his siblings or parents or any of his rarely acquired friends by his side. He wasn’t a sociable person, but he’d always been surrounded by noise at home, and lots of it… he’d never been in a house as still as the one he stepped into that day. The dark wooden floors were cleanly swept, except for the corners and trimmings which had little fields of grey dust dotting the deep brown. The refrigerator made a hungry humming noise, protesting its suddenly empty shelves- Logan knew a family of four had lived there before, and that they’d given him a pretty hefty discount on the house. That’s all he knew.

The floor in the entrance hall creaked underfoot, and the walls seemed to turn away as they saw him- not who they’d been expecting, not worth their attention. That was fair. 

The house had three bedrooms and two floors- altogether a strange layout. Two of the bedrooms were downstairs, situated in a small hallway off the kitchen, and one was tucked into a little corner upstairs, where the only other rooms consisted of a bathroom and a large, carpeted playroom that was mostly empty now. Logan figured it would have been a favorite of the kids when they were smaller, but now the only furniture was a faux leather couch and a television, as well as a couple of out-of-place armchairs that had never gotten much human use from the look of their fur-covered seats.

With just him taking up the whole house, he hardly saw the point in using the upstairs bedroom. The house felt big already- rationally, it would be better to localize downstairs. All he really needed was his room, the kitchen, and the little living room next to the entrance. That was enough for him- in fact, even that was too silent. He missed the screams of his brothers as affectionately as anyone could- which honestly varied day to day. 

Today, he was disproportionately affectionate. 

It paired well with the fear.

Logan was just about ready to start tearing himself apart over the family members he’d left behind- the only ones that mattered- when the boy caught his eye.

The day had been gray and dreary, the trees heavy with the prospect of rain and the air cool enough to promise it, but it had only started drizzling in the few minutes since Logan had been inside. The sky had seemed to darken remarkably quickly, especially strange without the presence of thunder or even heavy rain, and in the middle of it all was a lanky figure who looked for all the world like a member of the fae.

He stood at the side of the road, looking in the house’s general direction- in Logan’s general direction, although he was sure the other wouldn’t be able to see through his windows. His face would’ve been hidden by the dark hair poking out from under his hood were he not so painfully pale, and his brown irises were visible to Logan only because of the piercing contrast of his skin. 

His jacket was oversized, but his beanpole frame managed to show through regardless. The rainwater gradually weighed it down until the boy looked almost a skeleton, Logan frozen watching him for what could have been minutes- and then the frame heaved in a breath and ambled stiffly away. 

Obviously Logan’s first worries had to do with an unhinged white male teenager breaking into his new house- the one he had full responsibility for and few precious savings to repair. It was irrational, he knew, but his second thought was that the boy hadn’t looked capable of any harm- or really of much at all. He looked weighed down, depressed, and Logan was sure that it wasn’t just the water soaking his sweatshirt. The boy had looked sad. 

And he continued to. Frighteningly often, the teenager appeared outside Logan’s house. Each time he looked quite the same: above average height but considerably shorter than Logan himself, skinny, and almost other-worldly in his strange mish-mash of dark eyes and pearly flesh. While Logan knew that his first sight of the boy had been strange in the sudden change of weather, he could- and completely intended to- count it as a coincidence of Florida’s strange climate.  

He settled into a sort of pattern, although the boy didn’t seem to follow one. Each time he saw the figure outside his house, he would take a break from his endless work. He’d make himself some tea, sit in the window, and wait for the boy to leave. This way, he told himself, if he tried anything, Logan would be there to intercept him. He chose not to think about the possibility of it happening at night or while he was away, and he kept far away from the crime shows he’d occasionally enjoyed in the past. This way, too, he could get a good look at his visitor each time. It was almost as though he was keeping tabs on him, and at the tail end of his fear came a strange protectiveness. 

It was after about a month of this- Logan looking for job applications and living off of his savings, edgewise- that Logan pulled into his driveway at one of the key moments of his life. The boy stood unsteadily at the side of the road, sweatshirt ever-present even in the heat. Logan got out of his car carefully, his heart in his throat- though, really, did any part of him think the boy capable of much at this point? 

He’d have expected the kid to run as soon as he’d pulled in, but when Logan looked him over he saw the boy studying him, bouncing on the balls of his feet. It struck Logan anew in their close proximity how thin he was.

Almost thoughtlessly, he started across the lawn towards the boy. He had to remind himself to uphold formalities- no matter how many times they’d stared at each other across the way, they’d never once spoken. He didn’t know this kid, not really- and now it occurred to him that the boy was more than a kid. He couldn’t be much younger than himself. Logan halted a few respectful steps from the boy, who eyed him strangely.

Close up… he looked, somehow, the same as he did from across the lawn. His features were simple, small mouth and nose easy to overlook for his huge, shadowed eyes. He really did remind one of a fairytale, or even- perhaps more accurately- a Tim Burton. 

Logan opened his mouth to speak, but paused for a moment. They watched each other.

“Would you like to come in for tea?” He finally inquired, the words escaping him overly familiar. The boy raised his eyebrows almost undetectably, seeming confused, and Logan caught himself almost leaning forward in anticipation of the other’s first words to him.

“You’re not Patton,” the boy said, voice just above a murmur and hoarse. Logan hesitated, confused, and studied the expression that would’ve been bored were it not for the slight tremble in his lips and a hint of surprise- Logan supposed neither of them had planned what had escaped their mouths. He reached up with a thin arm and brushed the back of his hand gently across his eyes. A spark of something strange flickered in Logan’s chest- this man was possibly not all there. He wracked his brain for labels- depression? Mild psychosis? Dissociation?

Either way, this was not someone he should invite into his house without more information- but as that regretfully occurred to him, the first drops of afternoon rain hit the tip of his noise. He wondered if the boy would stand out here after Logan went outside, and if so, for how long. 

“No, I’m not,” he found himself saying. “My name is Logan. It is raining- would you like to come in?”

He was exceedingly aware of the boy’s breathing as they stepped out of the rain, something that would normally drive him insane- somehow he didn’t mind this time. His presence was almost calming after weeks of bringing a break from Logan’s ceaseless work. It assured him that the ghostly pale man was real, which was never a problem he thought he’d be debating... but here was this skeleton-thin, strange-mannered man entering his house as though he’d been there a million times before.

He carefully slid his shoes off, paying close attention to the floor- and no attention to Logan. 

“I’ll make tea,” the latter found himself mumbling. “Do you want to come into the kitchen?”

“I’m gonna go upstairs,” the boy said. Logan blinked.

“I- you… this is my house?” He stuttered, trying to be assertive- surely that crossed a line? He’d never seen this kid before a month ago- but there he went, lugging himself up the stairs like he belonged there. O-kay. 

Logan backed into the drafty kitchen to put the kettle on.

Time to listen to his voice of reason, he decided. Clearly this boy had been in the house before- hopefully before Logan had moved in- and knew his way around. And clearly his mental state had some connection to the house- whether positive or negative, Logan couldn’t yet tell. So, he concluded, it’s possible that he had lived here before. The married couple that had sold him the house had mentioned a son, but they’d been moving out of town- how would the boy have made his way back almost daily? There was a bus line in the area... but who was Patton, and why had his absence been unexpected?

There was clearly missing information here, and thus the situation was theoretically dangerous. The logical thing to do would be to contact the authorities for more information- maybe the boy was a local that they were familiar with. If that were the case, they would know how to handle him. 

On the other hand… it was, put simply, a puzzle. Wasn’t it? Logan was smart; he was in online college and he was passing quite well. He had an A in psych so far. He just needed a few more minutes with the boy and he’d figure it out. He could help him... why else would he show up outside his house? 

He needed Logan.

There goes rational thought, Logan sighed as the kettle started to whistle, turning off the stovetop and moving the pot to the side. Something made him turn around- the boy was watching him from the doorway, looking almost more upset than usual. His wide eyes were watery, and as Logan hesitated he wiped an arm across his face again, expression turning to frustration. He avoided Logan’s gaze. “You said you were making tea?” He said, carefully controlled voice just above a whisper. Logan was startled out of his stupor by the boy’s coherence.

“I, um- yes! Yes, would you- what kind?”

“Earl grey? No sugar, just a bit of milk...” he carefully pulled a chair from the small table, slumping into it and reaching to fidget with the salt shaker. “Please.”

The boy’s words stirred Logan into movement and he grabbed two mugs out of the mostly barren cabinet before pulling a pre-packaged tea bag from the tea box on the counter. He unwrapped the tea and dropped one bag in each mug, pouring steaming water from the kettle into them with a satisfying noise. The warm humidity and pleasant smell caressed Logan’s face, and he took a moment to bask in it before returning to the present moment- if begrudgingly. As he set the empty kettle aside, the room quieted, the only sound the rain drizzling over the side of the roof. Logan crossed the space self-consciously to close the window. The boy’s eyes were pointedly focused on the table in front of him- Logan thought he felt more awkward this way than if the boy had been staring at him flat-out. Either way, he could feel his awareness of Logan like a thick fog. He snuck another look at the boy as he hovered beside a chair, unsure whether to sit opposite him. 

“My name is Logan,” he prompted, thoughts stumbling over each other to curse him for the repetition. 

“Thank you for the tea, Logan.”

...Well, at least that was something. His name sounded strange in the other boy’s hoarse, delicate voice- less mundane, somehow. He stood at the head of a table for one more moment that seemed to stretch out an eternity- the boy carefully spun the salt shaker around in his nimble fingers, swearing softly as some of the seasoning fell onto the table. Logan’s startled eyes studied the other’s flushed face.

And then his head caught up to him, and he shuttered into motion, rushing to the mostly empty fridge for milk and fetching the small bag of sugar he’d mercifully bought a few days before. 

“I... I’ve seen you around,” Logan’s mouth betrayed him again. That was creepy- although, looking at it objectively, it was much less creepy than being ‘around’ the way the boy had. The table behind was quiet for too long as he poured the milk. 

“...When’d you move in?” The voice was quiet and held a fragility that Logan hadn’t yet heard from the other. He was relieved to finally have an easy answer to one of the many questions he faced. And, indeed, his mouth finally obeyed him, even and direct.

“About a month ago.” He turned to face the table, the boy’s tea held stiffly between his hands. 

“Sorry,” he whispered as Logan set down the tea. “I knew someone’d moved in, but I guess… it was you.” The boy let out a hollow laugh, and Logan was swept with protectiveness once more.

“Don’t worry, I won’t alert the authorities.” Because that was the most comforting thing he could think of- he’d never been very tactful with delicate emotional situations. Predictably, the boy tensed. Logan decided it’d be advisable for him to move on. “What is your name, pray tell?”

Pray tell. Pray fucking tell? What was wrong with him? The boy cut him off before he could overthink the foot he’d just shoved in his mouth with the eloquence of an 1800s era schoolboy. 

“Patton.” A moment passed before a look of horror came over his face. “Or- no, I- it’s- Virgil! Virgil.”

Now- once again, logically- forgetting one's name was not a good sign. Of general coherence nor moral innocence. Logan knew this. 

Still, the boy looked uniquely upset by the mistake. 

Logan fetched his tea and sat down opposite him.

The other boy fidgeted incessantly, and Logan felt it fell on him to make Virgil more comfortable. He threw tact to the wind- it was tiresome anyway- in favor of distracting the other and himself from the strange fumble.

“Are you a local?”

He got a nod in response, Virgil holding the tea tightly between his hands. Logan couldn’t help but feel he’d made yet another mistake- obviously the boy wasn’t comfortable talking about himself, but was it worth Logan filling the silence with unprompted facts about himself? Would that bore Virgil? Was that rude? He let the gap in conversation rest for a moment before deciding he didn’t much care what was rude.

“This is my second year enrolled in online college- I skipped my senior year.”

The stupid non-sequitor sat in the middle of the table, sinking like a rock. Virgil managed to give him an incredulous look, even in the depths of... whatever it was that was affecting him. Logan panicked. 

Here are a few things about Logan Croft that were usually a given:

                  1. He often said things without regard to the effect they would have on others. 

                  2. He did not say things he didn’t believe to be true.

                  3. He did not readily employ personal information.

All of these rules had apparently been thrown out the window the second Virgil walked in his door. As soon as he realized this, he worked to reclaim them. “Virgil.”

The wind immediately blew out of his sails, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Speaking abrasively had never been difficult for him, and this was not the time to adopt a new weakness. “I need to know who you are. You have shown up outside of my house for the past month, and while the reasoning behind this is presumably personal and not necessarily critical for me to know, I will at least need you to tell me your full name. Against my better judgement, I will not contact the authorities about your incessant invasion of my privacy, because I don’t altogether mind it- but if you are to have regular access to my house, we can’t continue this one-sided conversation.” Regular access to his house? When had Logan considered that option? As soon as he asked himself the question, he knew the answer- the feeling of someone appearing in the doorway, seeking Logan’s company… it was something that he’d missed sorely. It was something he needed.

The boy looked startled and altogether terrified by the long stream of words. Logan, still working hard to recover his sense and new to the inclination of softening his words on the behalf of strangers, disregarded this as best he could as he waited for an answer. 

It didn’t look like he was going to get one.

Virgil opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, putting the salt shaker down on it’s side like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. Logan felt a tug in his stomach to right it, afraid he’d get more salt on his table, but now didn’t seem like the time. 

As the moment stretched forward, his attention was grabbed away anyways, trying to decipher Virgil’s expression. It didn’t look good. 

In fact, it made his heart drop.

The boy looked withdrawn, fearful- like a bird with an injured wing or a snared fox. Damn it, damn it, damn it- Logan’s split-second adopted mantra was less than helpful, but it showed no signs of tapering off to make room for useful thoughts. Virgil’s eyes squeezed shut, and the instincts left over from Logan’s career as an older brother took over. 

He rushed to Virgil’s side on blind autopilot, laying a warm hand over his bony back. The boy jumped at the unexpected touch- and then leaned into it, a choked sob tearing itself from his throat. Oh no. Oh god. Damn it. 

Logan didn’t consider himself good with emotions. He did his best to comfort his younger brothers- god knows they needed it- but strangers were a whole new situation and honestly he didn’t feel much better about this than he expected the boy did.

Nevertheless. 

“Hey, I-” he took a knee to lower himself to Virgil’s level, steadying himself against the table awkwardly. “Um-”

He choked on what to say, but his mind latched to the one thing he knew. Virgil had responded positively to touch- and with little further thought, Logan bundled the shivering boy into his arms.

Logan would’ve immediately taken back the show of affection by any means necessary if Virgil hadn’t melted into the touch so readily- Logan was reminded of an oversized cat. 

That being said, Logan was holding a sobbing stranger in his arms in his new house, alone. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Logan had always been the kid at family gatherings who did everything in his power to ward off physical contact from his overbearing relatives. Although this situation was completely different and altogether impossible to plan for and avoid, he found himself reacting in somewhat of the same way- each place that Virgil’s thin, trembling body touched his screamed at him to recoil.

He did not.

He brought to mind his brothers- not that they’d ever been particularly physically affectionate with him. They’d always turned to each other, and he’d been left to himself. Understandably. But he imagined if they had seeked his reassurance, if they’d ever been as upset as this stranger was now. If they’d let him in. 

But now someone was leaning on him for comfort, and he was determined to provide for them. Imagine if Remus had come to him for help, he kept thinking. Imagine if it were Roman. 

And all of a sudden he had to hold back tears himself. He tensed, carefully leaning Virgill back onto his chair- Logan’s chair. Sensing the other’s discomfort, the boy came back to himself like a fire blazing across dry wood. 

“Fuck- fuck, I-I’m-” the boy was off at a rushed stutter, scrambling to right himself and wiping his eyes angrily. Logan shook his head, patting Virgil’s shoulder awkwardly. 

“Drink your tea,” Logan said stiffly. “It’s okay. I don’t- do you need something?” Good job, he thought sarcastically. Just pretend it never happened. Show him that, apologies, you seem to have made him think you’re an emotional resource. He was wrong, you’re actually a sociopath. Once again, sorry for any inconvenience. 

Logan’s thoughts stuttered and shouted as he tried to fix whatever he’d done. Virgil was quite obviously shaking, almost unable to hold his tea to his lips although he did make an effort, and Logan resorted back to psych class- maybe not a panic attack, but certainly an emotional breakdown and possibly an anxiety attack. “Do you have a history of generalized anxiety disorder?” Logan asked automatically, the place where he should have held a capacity for compassion currently void for whatever stupid reason. “Or even a suspected case?” The thunderstorm in his mind froze entirely as Virgil’s watery brown eyes focused on him. 

“...I guess,” he rasped quietly, eyes flickering back to his hands as they picked at each other violently. “I dunno.”

Logan let out a long breath, sliding furtively into the chair opposite Virgil. 

“If you’re having an anxiety attack, it could be caused by a persistent disorder or a recent traumatic event- although recent is a problematically inspecific measurement-” 

“Uh, then I- I dunno. Still. I guess…” He shrugged, looking away. “How recent is recently?”

Logan tried to hold back a sigh of relief at the comparatively simple question.

“Generally, anxiety attacks are caused by a buildup of unfinished tasks or other irritants, although there’s often an overarching problem or incident. A traumatic event can cause emotional turmoil for years after it occurs- or for the remainder of one’s life, depending on it’s nature- but in most to all cases, the effects lessen as time goes on.” Virgil nodded slowly. 

“And- and what are the symptoms? Of an anxiety attack?” He pulled his legs up to his chest, presumably placating the urge to make himself smaller. Logan rattled off the characteristics quickly.

“Shaking, a feeling of unease, impulsive thoughts, nausea, panic, the sensation of being trapped or cornered, restlessness, hyperventilation, trouble concentrating, dyspnea- shortness of breath, that is- am I making sense?” He wrapped his hands around the cooling cup of tea in front of him, feeling the need to steady himself. Virgil nodded again- it was apparent he was a man of few words. That worked out wonderfully, Logan thought, as he himself seemed so bent on talking as much as humanly possible. 

“Yeah,” Virgil muttered- then stood up abruptly. “Um- I should probably go. Sorry for… yeah.” Logan, decidedly more alarmed at the idea than he should’ve been, got to his feet as well.

“No- I mean, you don’t… have to. If you’d rather- but if you feel the need to go- I mean, I don’t want you to…” Logan paused, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to get his damn mouth under the control of his brain. Had he said something wrong? Well, obviously he’d said many things wrong in the past minutes, but… he thought over the conversation. He’d only been saying the facts- just what he knew. Was there something he should have kept to himself? Was any of it too personal? It was just facts, statistics, symptoms- he cursed himself mentally, although he couldn’t tell precisely what for.

While he’d been deliberating- not panicking, never panicking- Virgil had frozen in place. Right. The whole blazing trainwreck of words he’d let out for no apparent reason. Where the hell had that even come from? He’d known this kid for a month- five minutes face-to-face- and he was already being weird and nonsensical. It took considerable effort to bring the circumstances of their meeting to mind and even the playing field in his subconscious. If they were both creepy, did it even out? “I-I meant... you’re welcome here.” 

Logan could see the gears turning in Virgil’s head as he fell back into his chair. A weight slid off of his shoulders as the air between them settled- they were even. Or something. 

As much as he expected to regret his words, he was surprised at the lack of protest from his thoughts. It was, for once, blessedly quiet both inside his head and out. Logan sat back down warily. “You obviously have some- some connection to this house.” Like some sort of undead apparition, he thought- but he had the sense to keep that, at least, inside. “I can’t tell if it has a positive or negative effect on your mental state as I seem to be an uncalled for variable in your visit. I’m no psychological authority... I know you’ll come back either way, and I don’t like imagining you back out in the rain.” A shiver went through the boy like a roll of thunder, and he nodded. 

“When can I come here again?”

[stusbunker]

Hunters’ Crossing: Moving In

A Kinky Swingin’ Supernatural AU

Featuring: Dean Winchester x Wife!Reader

Written for: @spnkinkbingo

Word Count: 3535

Square Filled: Teasing

Summary: Dean and you work on moving into your new house. Which just happens to be Sam and Rowena’s old place. A neighbor stops by while Dean is out, welcoming you to the cul-de-sac. As the day goes on, you enjoy distracting your husband until he has had enough.

Warnings: 18yo+, shower sex, oral sex (both), penetrative sex, fingering, anal sex, analingus, dirty talk, just happy couple smut.

Pre-read by @cracksinthewalls & @thoughtslikeaminefield​ (who also made the awesome header).

    Dean had been up and itching to get the show on the road for over an hour. The only things left unboxed in the two bedroom ranch, you had been renting since moving back to town, was the mattress, bedframe and a change of clothes. As of sometime after midnight, Dean and you were packed and ready to go. Unfortunately for your husband, you were still sound asleep.

    He started pacing, or what sounded like pacing from your exhausted face-down state. It turned out he had started moving the boxes from your room to the driveway.

    Dean wasn’t being loud, but it was really fucking early for that. 

    You crawled out of bed just after eight, shrugged into the old top and leggings you had left out the night before, and prayed he had gotten coffee. 

    “And she’s up,” Dean snapped his fingers in excitement. You grumbled your good morning, but snuggled into his side as he dialed Benny, his lead mechanic and the guy who was bringing the trailer. You nursed your coffee (with all the right fixings) as Dean finished his call.

    “Can you believe where we’re gonna be livin’?” Dean kissed your temple, then looked down at you like a kid on the way to Disneyland.

     “Uh, yeah, so can the bank account. You’re lucky you’re so cute and Sam’s lucky you have a soft spot for him,” you finished on a mumble.

    “You love that house, don’t be like that,” Dean tisked at you.

    “I do! I do. It’s just, I could have slept for like four more hours,” you whined. “Thank you for my coffee.”

    Dean rolled his eyes at you, but you could tell he was pleased he had done good. You left a quick kiss on his jaw before he walked away to start hauling more things outside. 

    Barely ten minutes had passed when Benny and Bobby sauntered up the walkway. Before you had even metabolized the caffeine, the first trip was underway.

    Hunter’s Crossing was the last cul-de-sac at the end of Lawrence Lane. Which ran the length of the development known as the Ethereal Estates. The four bedroom, three bathroom McMansion that you and Dean had purchased from his younger brother Sam was on the northern corner, facing south. Dean pulled the Impala into the garage with Benny and Bobby with the truck and trailer filling the driveway right behind you. 

    As you climbed from the passenger’s seat, Benny let out an impressed whistle.

    “Damn, Boss, you’ve gone full country club on us,” the large man drawled.

    “Can it, nimrod, or you’ll give him an even bigger head,” Bobby warned. Benny and you both laughed.

    “You done? Cuz, last time I checked you can walk and talk,” Dean snipped, only half-heartedly. Bobby gave you a gentle smile as you shivered against the early spring air. You all fell in line behind Dean and awaited your assignments.   

    Two hours into hauling furniture, Garth showed up to give a hand. Unlike Bobby and Benny, who worked directly for Dean at Winchester & Son’s garage, Garth, a long time friend, was an accountant who helped Dean learn the books when John retired. His wife Bess was the kindest person you had ever met.

    You were settled into organizing mode when the guys left to pick up the last round of boxes. Then, the doorbell rang.

     A man stood on the front porch, draped against the doorframe like he had known you for years, tucked into a fitted black suit paired with the softest looking tee shirt you had ever seen. His mischievous eyes crinkled above a flirtatious smirk as he introduced himself.

    “Baz, hi, I’m at the center of the loop. Welcome to the neighborhood, wish it were over better circumstances, but happy to keep it in the family, as it were,” he rolled off before you could even reply. He must be in sales, you thought.

    “Hi,” you gave him your name, finding it easy to smile under his charms.

    “You're the sister-in-law? So where’s brother dearest?” He teased in a tonal accent.

    “Oh you know, sent him to do the heavy lifting. They’ll be back before long.” You stood up straighter.

    “Right, well, we’re having a dinner party next week. It’s kind of a regular thing, we take turns hosting, and my wife’ll kill me if I don’t pass on the invite. Friday at seven? We have cocktails, and get gussied up for one another,” he mentioned passively, but you caught the drift. It wasn’t a backyard barbecue. “It’s all a bit pretentious if you ask me-- Well, who am I kidding, right?”

    You couldn’t help but giggle a bit at his expense. “It sounds great--- Bash?”

    “Baz,” his voice sizzled along the last letter.

    “Baz, sorry. Uh, I’ll have to check with Dean, but I don’t think we have anything going on.” You gave him your best customer smile.

    “How about I’ll just pop back when you’re better settled? I didn’t mean to pressure you, love,” Baz waved as he backed off the porch.

    “You’re fine, really,” you apologized. “It’s just the first day, a lot to sort out.”

    “Of course! Take your time. Right, well, I’ll be seeing you, ta ta,” Baz waved with a tight lipped grin.

      You closed the door and exhaled. That was more than you had heard from your neighbors in the three years you had lived at your last place. It was kind of exciting getting an invitation on the first day, now if you could just convince your husband to go. But Dean didn’t really get ‘gussied up’ for much.

      Dean found you in the kitchen, kneeling on the counters as you sorted the plates. There was so much space, everything was able to get its own shelf. You heard him start the tap, just out of your line of sight. Quickly, you sensed his amusement as you continued to stack and place the piles by size.

    “Don’t laugh at me, it’s easier this way,” you said without looking at him. When he didn’t reply, you grew curious to what he was up to, slowly you turned around to find him leaning against the island which held the double sink, eyes firmly on your ass. You sighed, but leered back at him, down to just his t-shirt after the last of your belongings had been unloaded. He wiped his wet lips with the hem of his shirt, flashing the sweaty plane of his abs at you.

    “Don’t mind me, carry on,” Dean sassed, waving you back to the task at hand.

    It was your turn to roll your eyes, pushing off the counter with an exaggerated arched back. You broke down the box and moved onto the next, knowing Dean was enjoying his water break more than he should.

     “Why don’t you call for pizza? Get the guys fed for all their help,” you suggested as you climbed back up to stock another set of cabinets, this time with glassware.

     Dean nodded before he finished off the last of his water. As he scrolled through his phone for a number, you remembered your visitor.

     “Babe? You got anything going on on Friday?” You watched him think.

     “No, why?” Dean didn’t look up, brow scrunched in concentration.

     “We were invited to the neighbors’ for a dinner party,” you sing-songed the last words, emphasizing the level of chic.

     “What neighbors?” Dean paused.

      “The ones in the big house in the middle. Baz, was his name. Said they do it a lot and take turns hosting,” you shrugged. “Could be fun. It was nice to be welcomed to the neighborhood.”

     “How long was this guy here?” Dean’s face froze in suspicion.

     “He just stopped by!” You chuckled aghast, but you couldn’t hide the blush Dean’s interrogation had brought back.

     “So, what, he just conveniently shows up to check out the hot new neighbor when he saw us leave?” Dean shook his head and stood straight, squaring off. “I don’t know, sounds like a creepy thing to do.”

     “Shut up, he’s married! He said his wife would kill him if he didn’t extend the invitation. Calm down, would ya?” You hopped down to face him. Dean grumbled and went back to his phone. “Hey?”

     “What?” Dean huffed.

      “I love you.” You placed your chin on his shoulder as he got over his temporary pouting.

       “Yeah?” Dean cocked an eyebrow, and smirked at you.

       “Yep.” You popped the p. 

       “You want the usual?” Dean put his phone to the opposite ear. 

       “Please?” You grinned, as he settled against the sink once more.

         His fingertips swatted the curve of your hip as you walked away.

    You had left an entire room for the empty boxes. Without enough furniture to fill the space and after Sam and Rowena sold off half of theirs to cover the costs of the divorce, it was easy to let the cardboard pile up as the day went on. As you waited for lunch to arrive, you trudged through the living room to drop off another few flattened boxes. 

    Dean asked Benny and Garth to reassemble your bed and the guest bed upstairs, while he and Bobby organized tools and lawn equipment in the garage. You could see Dean and the older man talking through the window in the study, or the current box depot. Your husband had a fantastic profile and you took a few moments to appreciate it.

    Slowly you tore yourself from your reverie and started to break down the remaining intact boxes. You quickly grew overheated and bent over to crack the window. You caught Dean’s eye as you wrenched the stiff windowpane up. He was watching you from the tops of his eyes, mouth open as his tongue played with his top teeth.

    He always had such a sinful mouth.

    The glint of chrome flashed from his window up to yours, the wrenches he was lining up nearly forgotten as you ducked your head out the window, strategically pinning your breasts between your folded arms. He was not shy about taking in the show, his eyes grew dangerous with want. 

     There was a sudden pounding on the front door. Just as quickly as you draped yourself out the window, you rocked back and away from Dean’s hungry glare.

      The beer bottle was cold against your lips as you let the tangy liquid wash down the mouthful of pizza you had practically inhaled. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until the smell wafted in from off the porch. Best pizza around and you were finally in the delivery radius, suburbia already had its perks.

      “Save some for us, darlin’,” Benny teased, as he cracked off the top to his bottle.

       "Hey, I'm not the one driving anywhere, you get your one, the rest are mine," you sassed back. 

       You took another sip, locking eyes with your husband across the table. He licked his lips before taking a generous swallow of beer. A familiar heat sizzled in his eyes.

       "Good to know who's really in charge," Bobby nudged Garth to hand him his beer, which Garth passed on.

       "I don't want to get drunk," the skinny man reasoned.

       "Yeah, and I don't want to have to call Bess to pick you up," Dean agreed and took the offered beer from Bobby, though his was nearly full.

      "Somebody's ready to celebrate," Bobby teased.

       "They're ready for something," Benny taunted. "A little horizontal mambo seems to be in the cards."

       "It has been a long day, a little might be all he's got left," Bobby agreed.

       You almost spit out your beer as you giggled with their banter. Dean chugged his beer and rolled his shoulders.

          "Mind your business, or I'll have you work late every Friday until I'm sick of looking at ya," Dean said after a faint belch.

          "Yes, sir," Benny nodded, smirking at you with a little wink. You shook your head and sighed. The food quickly disappeared alongside the beer, leaving you all stuffed and lethargic. You rolled your shoulders and followed the guys out through the garage. Dean shook hands goodbye while you leaned against the double wide door frame, smiling and waving. You were grateful for all they had done to get you settled in.

    “Have a good weekend, boys!” you called, watching them climb into the truck. Dean sauntered back to your side, sweat stained shirt rumpled, hair askew, and handsome as ever.

    “Ready to go break in that fancy shower?” he asked, fingertip dragging your hair from your pulse point. A devilish chill ran down your spine, you couldn’t help but shiver from his touch.

    “I am beat, Hot Stuff,” you lamented. “A shower does sound amazing though.”

    “Let’s get you naked, then we’ll see who’s beat,” Dean punned horribly.

    You groaned and then gave him a meager chuckle. “Do you even hear yourself sometimes?”

    “I’m fucking hilarious, it’s one of the reasons you married me,” Dean insisted, leading you back into the house by the small of your back. You stomped through the mudroom and passed the kitchen to the stairs, every step up felt like you had concrete bricks for feet.

    “No rush or anything,” Dean teased, hands firmly on your hips, always so supportive.

    “Why did we buy a two story house?”! You fell dramatically forward, slumped on the landing, with your legs and arms askew like limp noodles. “Can I just nap here first? It’s so far!”

    Dean stood two steps behind you, hands on his hips and bitch face on. “Really?”

    You rolled to your back, knees bent and propped yourself up on your elbows, as if it was the hardest thing in the world. Starring up at his annoyed face, you got creative.

    “Please? Just take a little break with me?” You opened your legs suggestively, seeing his eyes rake over your body before he rolled them in mock annoyance.

    “Five minutes, then I’m getting clean, with or without you,” Dean warned. He fell into the cradle of your thighs, his chest was flush with your heat, as his face burrowed into your cleavage. His arms snaked around your shoulders, holding you up to him like a pillow. It would have been uncomfortable, if he didn’t feel so damn good squishing you into the plush carpet.

    Every inch he touched burned through your clothing, the radiant heat of his body oozing into your tired muscles, turning your blood into molten sludge, pooling at your core. Dean hummed and shifted above you, the tip of his nose teasing a nipple.

    “I can’t wait to fuck you in every room of this house,” Dean murmured, voice husky and full of promise. “Gonna make you scream my name until there is no doubt every inch of this place belongs to me.”

    “To us,” you replied, pulling his face up to look at your lust blown eyes.

    “Just you and me,” Dean agreed, kissing a clothed tit, and then the next. He slid up on his toes until his hard edges crooked against your welcoming curves. Then he kissed you blind.

    You twisted your hands into his hair and the back of his shirt, clinging to him as he sucked every memory of exhaustion from your mind. The satisfaction of a day’s work done and the hope of new beginnings flooded into your already happy existence, filling you with a blissed out giddiness as Dean began to grind his hips against you. You gasped, breaking the kiss, before dragging his shirt over his head.

    He leaned back and placed a swift kiss on your lips. “Five minutes are up.”

    You groaned in dismay as Dean untangled himself from your limbs and climbed the last six steps to the second floor. 

    “You coming or what?” He barked at you, belt already flapping open, erection poking his shorts out of his fly. 

    Dean usually hated shower sex, too many slippery surfaces and not a lot of space to get things done. But now that you had a walk in shower stall, custom-made for his giant brother, Dean had become an enthusiast. 

    What started on the stairs, led to him staying dressed on the bottom half until you were completely bare. Then he started the water, letting it get as close to boiling as he could stand and how he knew you liked it. He escorted you under the massive showerhead and pulled back your hair, letting the water soak every inch of your skin. 

    He wouldn’t let you touch him. 

     Then he started to scrub, louva sudsy and soothing over your shoulders, under your arms, around your breasts, leaving the parts that needed him most tight and wanting. Once you were as clean as he was going to let you get, Dean brought out the shampoo, letting you finish, not trusting himself to be gentle enough with your tresses.

     It took him less than five seconds to finally get naked.

     Once your hands reached above your head, Dean started his attack. He lapped one nipple into his hungry mouth as you groaned. Dean watched you the entire time as he mouthed your tits, wanting to push you to the edge as many times as he could get away with.

     Fucking tease.

     Then he moved between your legs, and the way he left parts of you unwashed all made sense. Because he wanted to taste you, not your floral body wash. He fell to his knees and hooked a thigh over his shoulder, leaving rough kisses on each thigh. Back and forth he went until you were dizzy and whimpering. He rinsed his hands and licked his finger tips for good measure, watching you wait for him to get on with it.

     Then he began to stroke your folds. Ever so carefully, he pulled you open, cherishing the way you quaked for him. Your wetness only aiding in the tortuously slow glide of his fingers, front to back, back to front. After more breaths than you could keep track of, Dean pressed into you, two calloused fingers as deep as they could go.

     You grasped his neck, desperate to hold on, because as soon as he would, you needed Dean’s tongue on your throbbing clit.

    “Whoa--- everything alright up there?” Dean said with laughter in his voice.

    “God, fuck, Dean,” you begged.

    “Yeah?”

    “Please, stud, I need you,” you panted, nails digging into his back.

    “Might want to think about how you were acting all day then. Climbing around like a jungle cat. Practically flashing me and Bobby in the garage. Flirting with the neighbors,” Dean tisked at you. “I’m just giving you what you gave me.”

    Then he shut up and put out. That sinful mouth decadently pulled and puckered every inch of flesh, until you were screaming over the torrent of the shower. Once his tongue joined his fingers, you were gone. Liquid heat squeezed out of you as your body shuddered out the aftermath, thanking his skillful digits for their efforts.

    At long last, you were bent in half, hands braced against the intricate tile as he speared into you from behind. Your body fighting to keep the water out, which only pushed Dean to thrust harder against the unrelenting tightness. Your legs were going to give out soon, it was all too much, the warmth of the shower and the way, even on your tiptoes, Dean had to crouch with his bowed legs to hit your sweet spot with every single stroke.

    When he smacked your ass, you faltered, elbows bending and falling forward. He caught you, slowly easing out of your abused cunt, until you were back on steady feet. You turned to kiss his pink lips, still heady with your juices. Carefully Dean reached behind you to turn off the water, brushing his chest against yours. You reached up and pinched his nipple. In return, he let his hand drop down to cup your mound, tapping a gentle rhythm across your slit.

    “Ready for that nap, now?” He offered, kissing your temple.

    “Definitely.

    You spent the rest of the weekend unpacking and screwing, just like Dean wanted: in every room of the house.

    He ate you out as a pre-breakfast in bed, first thing Sunday morning, slow and dirty. The noises that came from his plush lips made you writhe just as much as the work his tongue put in. You sucked him off while he made you a proper meal, but only during the prep work as bacon spatter is nothing to toy with.

    You rode him while he tried to watch opening week baseball highlights in your new living room, your bare legs deliciously smooth against the leather of the couch. He took your ass after he watched you doing laundry, bending down to pull the hot towels out of the dryer was too much for him. So, he dragged you up stairs to a spare bedroom, licked you clean and then worked you twice over before slamming home and filling you filthy.

    Moving was the best idea you’d ever had. You loved the house and couldn’t wait to get to know your neighbors. Life was good, you just didn’t realize it could get even better.

Tagging: @dolphincliffs @fangirlxwritesx67 @foxyjwls007 @akshi8278 @dontshootmespence @smi727 @ericaprice2008 @deandreamernp @mrswhozeewhatsis @itmighthavebeenintentional

Let me know what you think?

Series Masterlist

2020 Kink Bingo Masterlist

[electricbluebutterflies]

22 for Garcy?

This has been in the drafts for... years, probably, but here we are, I still love these two and I am emotionally messy enough to be writing them again. Usual ignore-the-ending / post-everything ‘verse, PG-ish, also on ao3.

“It’s not heavy.  I’m stronger than I look.”

Technically speaking, Lucy has never had a domestic arrangement.

Sure, the years spent with the team have to count forsomething, but that was both involuntary and didn’t involve a consistent romanticelement until close to the end. Could’ve happened sooner, and she got to spendsix months trying to convince everyone else in her life that it wasn’t,but… even then, it was different. Doesn’t really count as living with a partnerif what you’re actually doing is hiding in their spaces and occasionallyaccepting affection.

But it’s over now, and they won, and now she gets to see ifthere are any actual skeletons in her mother’s house (there’s already speculationand possibly a betting pool in the group chat about what weird things she’sgoing to find), and she is not doing that alone.

There is a certain irony in this, in dragging home a partnerwho is almost everything she was probably taught to avoid but wasn’t perceptiveenough to be aware of. Flynn is older than her by just enough to matter even withher comfortably in her mid-thirties, has been through brutal hell and does notsee a point in pretending otherwise, only charming when he wants something, andthen there’s the whole physical structure of him to deal with. The man isdefinitely someone else’s nightmare come to life, and sometimes Lucy thinksthat might be part of the appeal, the romantic cliché of trying to tame thedangerous a little.

Not that she’s done any taming so much as made sure she’shis favorite person, but y’know. Details.

Point is, she needs to clean out the house and sell anythingof value before trying to get rid of the house itself – the curse of being theclosest surviving family member, and no she does not know how everything stayeduntouched for a year and a half but there are questions Lucy does not ask inthis life – and having the assistance of someone more physically capable thanshe is might be an asset for moving hundred-odd-year-old furniture. At least,that was how she phrased it when suggesting the idea last week when plans werebeing laid and it became apparent he had none. At the time, their hesitantromantic involvement wasn’t even worth mentioning as a reason he should go withher.

It’s not… it’s not like anything else she’s ever done, sheknows that. There have been really good kisses but not more than that becausethin walls and caution and uncertainty if her IUD has expired, and a warmprotectiveness to it, and she’s not sure where they go from there. She wasn’tsleeping alone once they came back here and he followed her upstairs withoutquestions, but they haven’t turned in new directions and if they end up justbeing rather tactile roommates she could live with that. She’s not going topush through that tangle of unresolved issues.

But right now, as she paces the formal dining room shethinks her mother may have used twice in her lifetime and her partnerleans against the wall and watches her, she wants more. And isn’t that alwayswhere it goes to hell. If there’s one thing Lucy has learned from the nearly-three-yeardetour her life took, it is that she should not want things because the momentshe realizes she does is the moment it goes horribly wrong. She should not wantthis other person, even with his near-feral sense of loyalty, to break her patterns.She should not want to keep him. It will end badly, she is sure.

“Would it make you feel better to break any of that?” Flynnasks, breaking silence and gesturing towards the decorative china cabinet.

“Worth too much,” Lucy shrugs. “Wouldn’t help anything.”

The problem with this whole cleanout project is there is noeasy place to start. Taking on the more public parts of the house first makessense because she’s less likely to find anything odd down here but thatdoesn’t mean she won’t, and that just builds a sense of dread as she works herway up the spiral. Today is the first day they’re even trying; the previousthree days have been an attempt at reacclimating to a quieter life, completewith a near-traumatic trip to a supermarket. Perhaps this self-isolation isn’ta great idea for their respective personalities, but…

“What about that statue? What is that?”

Lucy glances at said statue, and honestly hell if she knows.It looks vaguely Greek but probably isn’t, and she is reminded that she doesget her lack of consistent aesthetic sensibilities from that side of thefamily, and… screw it, might as well find out what it is. She takes a few stepsover and tries to lift the thing, and-

“Don’t… let me do that.”

Oh she should’ve known this would activate her partner’sinstincts. Damn him.

“It’s not heavy,” she points out. “I’m stronger than I look,and… I think this may have actually been intended as a lawn ornament.” And nota good quality one either, to the extent Lucy feels capable of judging suchthings. Suspiciously lightweight and might break if she dropped it, which shehas no plan to do but-

“Do we want to keep it?”

She sets the object down and looks at it as if she evencares. “Not really?”

“Is there anything in this room you do like?”

“No?” She feels scared to say that out loud, like she’s temptingghosts to come out of the walls. “I don’t… I don’t know what we even need. But allof this can go.”

“Alright.”

They’re both quiet for a few moments, standing there closebut not touching and uncertain. Being able to make so many choices in successionis honestly terrifying, Lucy is realizing, and she’s not sure she likesthe control. See, this is why she couldn’t do this project on her own, becausenothing would ever get done. Even with help she’s not sure they’ll getanywhere, but-

“There are boxes out in the front hallway, if you could getthose for me?”

And then she is alone, and she can’t remember the last timethat happened. Even if only for a minute, it feels wrong. She’s gottentoo used to living on top of other people, the chaos of it all, becoming somekind of family because that was the only way forward. Now she could go dayswithout seeing another human being, if she wanted. She gets to choose that too,and she’s not sure-

A hand on her shoulder brings her out of her spiral, tetheringher as always. She isn’t alone, not in any way that counts. The two damagedones clinging together like they did on the bad nights when she was in theworst of her unraveling and he was quiet and kind like she should’ve seenbefore she made her mistakes and-

“We don’t have to do this all at once,” he murmurs. “Or atany speed.”

“I have nothing else,” she counters. “And you’re…”

“Here with you,” he says before she can come up with somemore bitey phrase. “As long as you’ll let me be.”

She breaks.

See, the thing is, Lucy had always expected to do thisproject alone. When she’d been younger and oblivious to the amount of evilweirdness her bloodline was tangled up in, she’d assumed the timing would be alittle different, but she knew the score. She was the good responsible daughter,the one who would get the short straw when something happened. And as she’d gottenolder, and made consistently questionable romantic choices none of which lookedlike a future…

The reality of the situation as it has actually happened,the fact that she does have someone on her side, is too much to acceptright now.

She lets herself be held because words are not going tohappen right now, lets him pet her hair and be a comfort because she is notsure what else to do. How does one tell a partner, a potential-but-not-quitelover, that there was never any plan for this part? That she, prone toover-planning as an anxiety workaround, never thought she’d bring anyone hometo deal with this particular curse of eldest daughters? She’s not sure she can.She’s not sure she can avoid it either.

“I’ll deal with it,” he says after a while. “If that’seasier. Take everything to that antique dealer you were mentioning and-“

“I can’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking. I’m volunteering.”

Lucy takes a moment to envision how that would go down, Flynn’shistorically unpredictable people skills meeting the nightmarish world ofpretentious assholes who try to under-pay for antique furniture. It sounds likea disaster waiting to happen at best.

“I’ll let you maneuver everything into the truck,” shecounters. “But I’m doing the talking when we get there.”

“They’ll try to take advantage of you.”

“I’m not leaving you outside like a dog I’m just… notletting you threaten anyone you don’t have to.”

He hums low against her body, contemplating. “I can livewith that.”

“Good because I’m not giving you a choice here.”

He brushes his lips against her forehead, and for a momentshe can believe they’ll get through this intact. “Whatever you want.”

[nat-20s]

this is a Wild™ prompt so no pressure to actually do it, but i’ve had the scenario of “somehow s5 martin ends up in s1-s2, has to figure out how to deal with that” and if u want a narrower thing, maybe how he reacts to seeing someone again/for the first time? (Sasha, Juergen Leitner, Prentiss, etc)

Please have fun with Whatever this is:

“Don’t go wandering off in the middle of the apocalypse” seems like a pretty simple rule to follow. “Especially don’t go through any weird doors, Christ, Martin, how can that possibly be a good idea on any level, do you remember nothing from the last five years of your existence?” also seems like a generally easy thing to keep in mind. And yet, Martin is guilty of the same sin that appears to be intrinsic of all of those who find themselves under the influence of the eye, his need to know something overriding his common sense. In his defense, the door was only like 2 meters away and he wasn’t planning on going through it or even touching it at all. He just wanted to look, because it appeared to be made of a liquid version of frosted glass, and it was translucent enough that he could sort of make out the other side of it. As he got closer, he confirmed that the other side of the door a: definitely didn’t match the rest of their own little hell-scape, and b: seemed familiar in a way he couldn’t quite make sense of.  

Of course, in the dream logic of their reality, you don’t have to place your hand on the door knob in order for you to enter some place new. All it takes is getting within a foot of the door, squinting to futilely try and bring the scene across from him into better focus, and a blink and suddenly he is not where he’s supposed to be. Instead, he is staring down the hallway of his former apartment complex, watching as a familiar woman attired in a red dress and countless words is steadily knocking at his door. There’s a weight in his hands that wasn’t there before, and he looks down to find a fire extinguisher in prime position to be fired. Huh. How serendipitous.

Martin’s surprised to find that he doesn’t feel afraid, not in this moment. It appears that for all the two weeks spent hiding from her still frequent more often than not in his nightmares, for all that the sight of canned peaches still makes him nauseous, in his (probably) waking hours, she is far less intimidating than the myriad of horrors he has faced since. Or, perhaps, it’s simply that he is actually equipped to face her, and that takes away some of the teeth of his fear. Any semblance of preparation, of a plan, has given him comfort when he had little else, and that continues on now. Admittedly, though, while he does have preparation for this encounter, his plan is little more than “get Prentiss off of my fucking lawn and then see where we go from there” before he’s striding towards her.

He’s able to get close to her, about as close as he’s willing to get, before she takes any notice of him. Once he’s about five feet away, she turns her head, and briefly pauses that incessant, infuriating knocking. She gets as far as saying, “Oh, aren’t you inter-” before he sends a spray of foam directly to her face. It’s far from enough to kill her, but it’s enough to kill off some of the worms, so there’s no way that it doesn’t at least sting quite a bit. The CO2 makes her stutter and take several steps back, swatting at the foam at an attempt to get it off.

He considers pulling the handle once again, but he’s really more concerned with getting her to leave than hurting her further, and he doesn’t to run out of ammo this early should she recover and decide to go on the attack. However, he likes to think he’s not too much of a fool, so he keeps the nozzle trained on her as she becomes less frantic.

Finally she stills her swatting, breathing heavily and glaring at him, as much as she can make any sort of facial expression with what’s left of her face. “That was rather rude of you, little one. And we are trying to offer you an escape from being so tragically singular.”

Martin raises the nozzle slightly higher, just enough to bring focus to the motion as he replies, “Yeah, well, it was rude of you to stalk my apartment for two weeks and try to kill me and my coworkers, so forgive me if I don’t feel all that grateful for your oh so generous offer.”

“Hmm. So you are his future. That’s a shame. We are made so loneliness is impossible, it would not wrap itself so throughly into your form. Our love could still be given to you, in this time.”

“I have no interest in your hollow version of love. He has no interest in it. Now, leave.”

Prentiss give an airy wave of her hand, and the worms that had been trying to find any crack in the sealed door come crawling back to their home. “Fine, fine. This was just a bit of fun, anyway. I’ll be seeing him soon enough anyway.”

Martin makes a hum of acknowledgement, though he response makes little difference to her taking her leave. There’s a few silver-grey disgusting stragglers that be promptly and throughly kills with a combination of the fire extinguisher and some well placed stomps. It’s only after he finishes this that the hesitation hits him, the trepidation curling low in his stomach until it solidifies into something akin to fear. He’ll take a worm monster over facing himself any time of any day.

What would he even say to himself? Good luck, the next years of your life are completely fucked? Hey, congratulations, you actually made it to your 30s, so that’s a bit of surprise, but you’re almost certainly not going to get to 35? Don’t talk to a man named Peter Lukas, or maybe just avoid any Lukases in general? Maybe he should lie, tell him things are going to turn out okay when they’re definitely not?

Wait, okay, maybe he has something with the Peter tip. If there’s an opportunity to give this version of him some advice that could prevent future grief, he might as well go for it. It’s like, how badly could he actually mess up the time line with his interference? The world could end again? Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Upon the realization that basically no matter what he does right now there’s basically no where to go up but up, he makes an executive decision to go in there and confront himself head on. Hell, maybe that’s the Thing that’s needed to get him back to Jon.

As he goes to turn the door handle he also, briefly, thinks that he should bring up that he’s madly in love with someone who feels the same. It’s not immediately relevant for trying to prevent some of the mistakes he’s made, but Martin remembers being 28, utterly convinced both that love was real and something that was completely unattainable for something like him. Being wrong on the second part of that conviction is one of the few true comforting things he can provide.

The door is, of course, locked, so he goes with plan B. Turns out fire extinguishers are rather handy for smashing things, and he brings it down several times in rapid succession until the knob breaks. There’s one step down, but he had forgotten about the furniture barricade that had been put in place. He can get the door open about 7 centimeters before it refuses to budge, and he begins to wonder if all of this is an exercise in futility. At least his voice won’t be muffled when he calls out, “Martin? You in there?”

There’s nothing but silence, and he sighs and leans his head against the apartment door. “Seriously, Martin, could you respond? And maybe move some of this furniture? If you’re dead that means things are way more messed up than I expected.”

After a beat, a strained voice calls out, “Oh, so a bad impersonation of me is part of your dumb monster powers now? Piss off!”

After a groan and an eyeroll, Martin calls back “I’m not-!” before cutting himself off. He meant to say “I’m not a monster, I’m you” but both of those things are only about 60-70% true. Instead he goes with, “I’m not an impersonation. If I was something pretending to be someone else to get inside, wouldn’t I pick one of your coworkers coming to get you? Like Tim or Jon or Sa- you know, um, one of them?”

Silence.

“You have a peephole, right? You could look through it, confirm that I’m not worm-infested?”

He doesn’t hear a response with words, but he does hear the sounds of motion coming from inside. After a few minutes, the furniture is pushed aside, and the door is opened for him. Jesus, the guy on the other side of the door looks like shit. He probably doesn’t look much better, apocalypse grime covering every inch of him, but still. The man in front of him has deep bags under his eyes and a gauntness to his face that will take a while to ease. Worst of all, he looks painfully young and painfully afraid, and while Martin can recognize himself on a logical level, there’s a forced disconnect that makes him feel like he’s looking at a stranger. The knife that’s being held between them probably doesn’t help matters.

His former self’s voice shakes with a mix of adrenaline and exhaustion. “You got the hair color wrong. And the age.”

“That’s because I’m 32. Also, still not an impersonation.”

“My hair goes white in 5 years?”

“Not in the natural way. You know those hokey stories where people are so scared their hair turns white? That’s...sort of what happened. And it’s not going to happen to you, if I can help it.”

That’s the wrong thing to say, apparently, as the younger Martin’s face twists up. It’s a lot, Martin thinks it’s a lot and he’s far more experienced in the reality of the esoteric, but sometimes things being a lot is unavoidable, and he’s pretty sure time travel is one of those cases. He shrugs in response to the younger’s confusion, and says, “Can I come in? I think I’m here to dole out some advice, and I’d honestly prefer to do while not standing in worm corpses.”

He’s studied for a few brief moments, before he’s told, “You broke my doorknob.”

“You’re never gonna live here again, and it’s not like you were getting the security deposit back anyway. Does it matter?”

The younger one’s face collapses, despondent when he replies, “But. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Martin’s been experiencing a nauseating mixture of anger, pity, and compassion while seeing his past self, but that’s enough to kick in his care-taking instincts, and he really just wants to wrap the guy in a blanket. That’s not going to help either of them, but what he says next might. With a frankly ridiculous wave of fondness for that uncomfortable cot (or, more accurately, for the memory of a certain someone offering said cot), “You will. After you go back to the institute, you, um, you won’t have to stay here again.”

Martin, junior edition, only looks more lost, but he does step aside to let Martin inside the apartment even if he doesn’t lose his death grip on the knife. Martin pulls the door behind him, and as he does so, it transforms into the door that got him in this mess, so looks like he made the right choice. It doesn’t immediately take him (hopefully) back to his own time, but Martin’s gut is telling him that he won’t be spending much longer here. “Okay, so, you have a notebook around here, right? Because I’m about to dump quite a bit of information on you all at once, and I happen to know that our memory for things of this sort is not fantastic.”

The younger one glances over to the table where a notebook and pen are laying and while he moves towards it, he’s clearly hesitant to occupy both his hands with writing. The precaution makes sense, but Martin’s getting tired of it nonetheless due to a combination of running out of time and generally being tired of people seeing him as a threat. With a sigh, he tries his best to evenly say, “The next few years are going to be, um, messed up, to say the least, but hopefully if you have more information than I did, they’ll be less messed up.”

Younger Martin finally concedes, putting the knife down to pick up the pen, and flips the notebook open. Primed to start writing, he gives slight nod of his head to tell Martin to keep talking. Martin takes a breath, lets it out, and spills everything he can think of. “Okay, most immediately, CO2 kills Prentiss’s worms, and enough of it will kill her. A fire suppressant system will do the trick, but make sure there’s a way to actually trigger it inside of the archives. Makes sure the weird spooky table doesn’t get destroyed, it seems like it should be destroyed, this instinct is wrong. Generally speaking, you should get a buddy system set up, as it’s usually when people go off on their own that particularly bad things start to happen, whether it’s on an investigation or going to America. Speaking of, don’t let Jon go to America. Don’t let Tim go to stop the Unknowing. The Unknowing won’t work anyway, but you’ll probably still want to have the circus blown up, just make sure everyone is doing it from a distance. Don’t let yourself work for Peter Lukas, actually don’t interact with Peter Lukas, except maybe to, I don’t know, hit him with a shovel. And most importantly, kill Elias Bouchard as soon as possible-”

“-What?!-”

“-and in particular make sure you destroy the eyes, that’s vital to this whole thing. Turns out he’s actually a 200 year old scumbag named Jonah Magnus, you know, the founder of the institute, and by getting rid of him, you’ll save yourself a quite literal world of pain.”

“I don’t, what, I don’t think I could kill somebody-”

Martin felt a sharp tug towards the door, and he knew his time here was up. “Oh, wow, I really have changed, huh. Anyway, uh, final notes: you’re not going to end up alone and unloved and forgotten before you’re even fully gone, so feel free to lay that fear that occupies a disconcertingly large amount of your mental space to rest. Good luck, and try not to die!”

Before he can hear his other self’s response, he’s back in the wastelands he currently calls a twisted version of home, and Jon’s arms are wrapped around his neck in a fierce hug. As far as he can tell, nothing’s changed from his little literal trip down memory lane. There’s a few explanations for it, but since Martin’s not going to go out of his way trying to prove any of them, he choses to believe in the one that’s the most hopeful; that somewhere, out there, with some well timed words, there’s a universe that has turned out kinder than their own.

[allthewayforbgs]

All Grown Up

Word Count: 7,400

Genre: Coming of Age, Fluff, Angst

Summary: Distance and time weren’t enough to keep Chris from finding his way back into your life. Sometimes, there are some things you just can’t outgrow.

Author’s Note:  This was written with a black MC in mind. Does that mean others can’t read it? Of course not, I’m super proud of this story. Just know that all physical descriptions will be of a black girl.

2002

The first time you met Chris Bang, you made him cry. He was the round-faced kid from the class next door that you only saw during lunch and recess. You knew he was loud and missing one of his front teeth, but that was it. The two of you never played together. Not because you didn’t like him—well, you didn’t that first day—but because you just had different friends. Besides, you were 5 and, as far as you were concerned, every boy that wasn’t your dad had cooties. There was no way you were catching those.

It was Friday which meant arts and crafts and an early recess. High off the gold star you had received from your teacher for your marvelous finger painting, you were in a great mood. Recess came, and you were all set to be the first one on the swings, bouncing on the soles of your scuffed black flats as you waited for the teacher to open the door that led to the playground. You were a good runner, so you knew you would make it up the hill before any of the other kids.

The doors opened and, almost immediately, the race began, everyone taking off as fast as they could to be the first one on the slide or get the swing that went the highest. You were almost to the top when someone ran into your back, knocking you into the ground. You shoved them off you and jumped up to your feet. Your left knee stung, tears in your stockings already showing hints of blood. You weren’t worried about that, though. You weren’t even worried about the fact that Taylor Atkins had managed to steal your swing, at least not entirely. You were worried about the mud that had managed to splash across the front of your favorite dress. It was your favorite color and your mom had let you pick it out yourself, your first “growed up” decision.

Chris had stumbled to his feet, almost tripping again from the mud and his untied shoelaces. Tears in your eyes, you pushed him back down almost as soon as he had made it onto his feet. Chris plopped back down into the mud and stared up at you in disbelief. He had been about to apologize, but before he even got the chance he was back on the ground.

“This is all your fault, you…you…” you searched your head for the worst thing you could call him. “Poopy head!”

The two of you ended up having to sit in the teacher’s lounge for the rest of recess while Chris’ teacher got your parents on the phone and your teacher tried to salvage your dress. Chris had stopped crying and you were slightly less angry, but still not calm enough to apologize to him. When your parents got there, Chris’ mom coddled him, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how big of a baby he was being. You hadn’t even pushed him that hard…

Your mom, on the other hand…

“(Y/N), do you have anything you want to say to Christopher?” Your teacher asked softly. Arms crossed over your chest, you shook your head no.

“Apologize to him!” Your mom chided.

Still the smallest of frowns on your face, you softly said, “Sorry.”

“Sorry for what? And I know you can talk louder than that.”

With your mom coaching you through it, you were able to force out a “Sorry for pushing you down…and calling you a poopy head…and for calling you a baby.”

“You didn’t call me a baby?” You could hear the slight whistle of air through the gap of his teeth.

“Not out loud…”

Skipping over that, your teacher went on to say that she thought the problem was just that the two of you didn’t really know each, that if you two could become friends it would be like none of this had ever happened. You started to protest and say that there was no way you could be friends with a cootie-having crybaby like him. But both your and Chris’ mom were saying what a great idea that was.

And so, you had to eat lunch with Chris every day for the rest of that month. And you kept having lunch with him every day after that because, even if he did have cooties, he actually wasn’t half bad…

2007

You were no stranger to Korean culture. While there were things you definitely still didn’t understand, Chris was nice enough to teach you basic words and explain some things to you. And, after lots of asking, he talked you into joining his family for the lunar new year. You had tried to tell him that he should just be with his family, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“You said you wanted to know more about Korea, Seollal is the perfect place to start.” He had said with the biggest of smiles. And so, you ended up in his parents’ bedroom with his mom getting you into a hanbok. It was very intricate, and you appreciated the help because you probably wouldn’t have been able to get into it on your own. It was a beautiful pink and orange floral design, the colors flattering against your dark skin. As Mrs. Bang took a step back to make sure it was on properly, you saw the smile that spread across her face.

“You two really are growing up so fast.”

As much as you had hated her coddling Chris the first day you two met, you couldn’t say you weren’t grateful for her extending the same kindness towards you. You turned to look at yourself in the mirror. The hour of your mom trying to detangle and style your thick curls had been worth it. You looked-

“Beautiful.” Mrs. Bang finished the thought for you, and you returned the compliment. You had honestly been shocked when she opened the door for you, out of her usual mom attire and into something out of a movie.

“Come on,” she said. “I think the boys are almost done setting up the altar.”

Out in the living room, the furniture had been moved aside to make room for the ancestral alter. You bowed respectfully to Chris’ aunts and grandparents just as he had shown you then made your way over to Chris. He was dressed in his own traditional clothing, the colors similar to what his mom had prepared for you. You thought his pants were funny but interesting, though you still preferred your own outfit. Chris was staring at you, though.

“What?” You laughed awkwardly. “Do I look stupid?”

Chris cleared his throat and shook his head. “Uh, no. No more than usual at least.” You restrained yourself from punching him in the arm because you were surrounded by his family and didn’t want to make a bad impression. “Do you remember how to say have a happy new year?”

Chris had coached you for like 20 minutes on how you were supposed to wish elders a happy new year. Your pronunciation was less than perfect, but he was patient. You practiced a little more before his parents gathered everyone in the living room. You mostly watched, amazed by the traditions but also not wanting to impose. Chris gave you a thumbs up when you were able to answer a basic question his grandmother asked you, the older woman giving you a kind smile at your somewhat childish but decent Korean pronunciation.

Slowly, as the night went on and everyone had eaten more than their fair share of rice cake soup, people began to leave. You changed out of your hanbok, thanking Mrs. Bang again for lending it to you, and then helped Chris and his dad start cleaning up. Chris was already talking about all the things he wanted to do tomorrow when the two of you woke up. Leaving the furniture pushed aside, you both got to work setting up a fort to sleep in. It was only after a few Pokémon battles on your DSs that you were finally tired.

“Hey, (Y/N), you asleep yet?” Chris whispered in the dark. You turned on your side so that you were facing him and shook your head. “Thanks. For coming today.”

Laughing, you said, “Well, you didn’t give me much choice, but I had a really good time.”

Even if he didn’t say it, you knew how much this meant to Chris. He loved his family and his culture. He had gotten into more than one argument with kids at school who tried to tell him his kimchi fried rice stank or would make fun of him when he would speak Korean. As one of the few black kids in your class, you understood him and how hard it was being isolated sometimes. If stumbling through formal Korean expressions and failing at rolling your own kimbap would make Chris happy, you were willing to do that for him. He was your best friend after all.

2011

“We can do this, right?” Chris asked. You weren’t entirely sure if he was speaking to you or to himself, but you nodded anyway.

“We can do this.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah. It’ll definitely be fine.”

“You go first.”

“What? No way!”

From the front seat, your mom sighed and turned to look at you and Chris. “You know you’re going to have to get out of the car eventually, right? Preferably before the crossing guard snaps at me for holding up her line.”

You looked out the window, still a bit hesitant. When you were in 8th grade, you felt like you could do anything. Even go to high school. But, now that you were here, it seemed just a tad bit scarier. You could see members of the football team passing the ball around on the front lawn, kids running up to their friends they hadn’t seen over the summer break, and under a tree you could just spot a couple going at it hot and heavy. Seeing the hesitation on your face, your mom smiled a little.

“Baby, you’ll be fine,” she said gently. “No one’s as tough as you. Besides, you’ll have Chris. Its your first day and you already have a friend.”

Looking over at Chris, you smiled. She was right. He’s been your best friend forever. If you had him, everything else would be a piece of cake. Your right hand on the door handle, you took Chris’ hand in your left and gave him an affirming smile, which he returned.

“We can do this.”

2014

It was the last weekend of summer vacation, and your friend Brianna had decided to throw a party. Or, as you had very adamantly told your parents, “a casual get together”. Nothing crazy or out of hand, just a few friends getting together to celebrate Brianna’s birthday and hang out before school, homework, and clubs took over the free time they had enjoyed over break.

She had decorated her backyard with paper lanterns, a table spread out on the patio covered in snacks, now half empty boxes of pizza and liters of soda. Music was blasting, some top 40s song that you all were only half listening to. Brianna had opened most of her gifts, and you and most of the girls were teasing her about the very thoughtful present she had gotten from Adam. They had been crushing on each other since sophomore year, but neither of them would admit it.

“I have an idea!” Tiffany, a girl you vaguely knew from your art class last year, said as she poured herself the last of the Sprite. Her loud voice rang through the backyard, drawing all eyes to her. “Let’s play spin the bottle.”

There were a lot of mixed reactions. Some were excited while others, namely Brianna, were nervous. Laughing, Adam asked, “What is this, a teen movie?” Taylor shot a glare in his direction before saying, “Come on, it’ll be fun. Everyone get in a circle!”

A little prodding and some more teasing later, Tiffany had managed to get all of you into a circle in the middle of the backyard. Chris sat down beside you and shot you a goofy smile. “You nervous?” He asked.

“Pfft. Why would I be?”

Honestly, though, you were. Partially because you were praying you got literally anyone but Adam, who you desperately wanted to admit he liked Brianna. Partially because, while you didn’t really mind playing, you hadn’t imagined your first kiss being in front of all your friends in a dumb party game. You managed to go several rounds without the bottle landing on you, but eventually it was your turn. Your chest was tight, and you felt like you were holding your breath the entire time the bottle was spinning. You watched intently as it slowed down, eyes widening when it came to a stop in front of Chris. Throughout the circle, there was a collective “oooh” as the two of you looked at each other.

Looking at your best friend, you could see it in his eyes. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” they said, filled with his usual care and kindness. But outside of that, you could see him. You had known Chris forever it felt like, but you had never really looked at him, at least not since puberty. He was…handsome. When did that happen? When did he stop being the round-faced boy from the class next door?

“(Y/N)?” Chris called your name, pulling you out of your head and back into the moment. Everyone was watching you. Just low enough for only you to hear, his hand resting on top of yours, Chris said what his eyes had tried to convey. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

You leaned in. Your lips just barely brushed over his, the taste of cherry coke lingering. Maybe it was you, maybe it was him. You weren’t really sure, but someone leaned in more and deepened the kiss. It became less of a peck, more real. In some other place, back in the circle, you could hear cheering, cooing, silly high school boys glad their friend was kissing a girl who he had, for some time, really liked. You didn’t know that then. All you knew was that Chris was a surprisingly good kisser and that he smelled good.

When you pulled away from each other, under his brown curls you could just barely see that the tops of his ears were red. You looked at him before clearing your throat and turning your attention back to the circle.

“So, who wants to watch a movie?”

*****

More pizza and a couple movies later, it was time for everyone to head home. While you hadn’t talked much after the kiss and had made a bit of a show of sitting on the other side of the room from him, Chris offered to drive you home.

“It’s on the way,” he said. But you knew Chris. Even though you were trying to run away from the conversation, he was ready to dive right into it. You wouldn’t talk about it at the party and, if it didn’t happen before school started, you wouldn’t talk about it all. You knew this, but you got in the car anyway.

You tried to distract him with music and idle conversation about this new series you found on Netflix. But, halfway through the ride, he turned down the radio.

“It’s a really good show. It’s got the one actor from-“

“(Y/N).” Chris’ voice was calm, even. You stopped talking. “We can’t not talk about it.”

“It was just a game…”

“Maybe…but that wasn’t just a kiss.” When you didn’t say anything, Chris said, “Come on, (Y/N). I know you felt that, too.”

Maybe he was right. Maybe it had felt right, perfect even. But, so what? It was just a game…

The car was quiet for a while and finally you were pulling to a stop in front of your house. You wondered how long you could sit there before it was stifling, before one of you finally cracked. Turns out it didn’t take very long.

“I like you.”

When he said it, you had been staring at the clock on the dashboard, watching the minutes tick by. But as the words left his mouth, your head shot up and you turned to look at him.

“What?”

“I really like you. I’m not really sure why-“

Rolling your eyes, you said, “Gee, thanks.”

“That’s not what I mean. I just…We’ve been friends since we were five, and I always thought that was going to be it. We were going to be best friends forever. But sometime last year, I realized that I didn’t want to just be your friend.”

You tried to think of what happened last year that could’ve changed things for him, but there wasn’t anything. But you kind of understood what he meant. You hadn’t seen him as anything other than your best friend until maybe 2 hours ago. Sometimes things just…changed. And that’s what you were afraid of.

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to make it weird. But you kissed me.” He said it like he still couldn’t believe it. You realized then that it didn’t matter who had leaned in just a little more. What did matter was that you had leaned in at all. You weren’t one to give into peer pressure and he had given you a way out, but you still leaned in.

Turning so that he was facing you more, Chris smiled. “You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to lose that. So just…tell me if I have a chance. If you say no, once you get out of the car, we can pretend it never happened.”

Your head had been spinning ever since the kiss. You hadn’t even been able to really focus on the movie that you all had watched, and the distance between the two of you in the front seat of his car felt too close but too far at the same time. You were afraid. Afraid that it would be weird, afraid that you would break up and could never be friends again. But Chris’ smile was comforting. He didn’t look afraid at all. There was no one on the earth aside from your mom that you trusted more than you trusted Chris Bang. So, if he wasn’t afraid, maybe you shouldn’t be either.

2018

“I don’t…think this is going to work.”

You said what you both had been thinking for a while but had been too afraid to admit. There was nothing wrong with your relationship. It was fine and you loved him. You had loved him for the past two years, and that hadn’t changed. What had changed was time. With both of you having gone away for university, there was no time to be together. Chris had been sweet and had tried to talk you into going to school together, but with both of you choosing different degree programs and receiving more scholarships for some schools rather than others, going to the same school wasn’t possible. And while you had tried to make time, get together on the weekends, call and text every day, it just wasn’t working.

You had waited until you were both home because this wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have over the phone. That didn’t feel fair. If it had been someone else, then maybe. But you couldn’t do that to Chris.

He stared at you, eyes tired and a bit sad. He wasn’t going to argue with you about this. Chris knew like you did that, while breaks were nice and comforting, breaks only came every so often. And, while he loved you, it was unfair for you to have to wait for just that when he wanted to give you so much more.

“Yeah…maybe you’re right.”

The two of you sat on his bed for a while, you unsure of what to say and him wanting to hold you but knowing he shouldn’t. You tried to tell him that the two of you could still be friends, but that felt disrespectful for some reason. You both knew it was true, you would still try to be friends, but saying it after a breakup felt like you didn’t mean it. So, you left it alone and sat through a semi awkward dinner with his family, before heading home.

This was exactly what you had been afraid of, and the only person you would’ve wanted to talk to had barely looked at you as you left his house.

November 2019

“And if you could take these down to planning, that’d be great, thanks!” Your boss was out of the office before you could even answer her, dropping a stack of color-coded folders into the small tray on your desk marked “incoming” before booking it towards the door. She did this every Friday. While you were left to finish her assignments, she hit the town with her boyfriend. Jealous didn’t even begin to describe how you felt.

Sighing, you started to organize the folders, making any necessary phone calls or sending out arguably long overdue emails. When you had landed an internship at the local newspaper, you hadn’t expected it to be as taxing as it was. But, honestly, you were grateful for the opportunity. It was a competitive spot and getting it had been even harder than the annoying errands your boss had you run.

Looking at the time, you paused to call your friend Hyunjin. He was also a communications major, and you were supposed to be meeting him and a few other friends for dinner but, given that an hour later you were only halfway through your work, you would have to reschedule.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Hyunjin answered the phone excitedly. In the background you could hear cars passing and the whipping of the wind. You hadn’t managed to catch him before he left home. “Are you on your way?”

“Not exactly,” you said, shifting the phone to rest between your ear and shoulder as you filed away various forms. “I won’t be getting out of here for another hour at least. Tell everyone I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.”

“Do you want me to bring you something? Or you could meet up with us after dinner at karaoke? I would hate for you to miss everything.”

That did sound very tempting. You looked back at the incoming tray. Aside from dropping the folders off at planning, there wasn’t much that couldn’t wait till Monday…

“Actually, yeah, that sounds good. I’ll call you when I leave here.”

As you were hanging up, Hyunjin reminded you to make sure to grab something to eat, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Sometimes it was hard to believe that he was younger than you.

You had met Hyunjin at a department lunch and bonded over the fact that the two of you had somehow managed to wear the same pullover. You had become practically inseparable ever since, even when you had a habit of forgetting about friends during exam season. You appreciated Hyunjin because he was comfortable with just being around you, not necessarily having to go out all the time. Plus, when you got stressed, he was usually the first person to remind you that being a person was also important.

After finishing a few of the more urgent things, you packed up your stuff and started to leave the office, dialing Hyunjin as you waited for the elevator.

“You on your way?”

“Yeah, you said meet at the karaoke, right?”

“Yep! We’ll wait for you outside. Oh! I hope it’s okay that we invited some more people along.”

You told him it was fine, assuming that “more people” meant his roommates Felix and Seungmin. Later you would wish it had just been Felix and Seungmin.

When you got to the karaoke, you were greeted warmly, Hyunjin wrapping you in a hug.

“You made it! We’re just waiting for one more person” he said. Looking down the street, Felix smiled. “Here he comes.”

You had been facing the building, talking to a girl, Maya, about how her semester had been going. Your attention turned at the sound of an all too familiar voice.

“Sorry I’m late!”

Your heart stopped when you saw Chris. It had been years. Strained phone calls and awkward family dinners. Trying to go back to a time before the “I love you”s and make out sessions on the bench in his backyard. Going home for break with mentions of catching up and hanging out without ever following through until finally you just stopped mentioning it, you just stopped calling. He was a little taller, his hair longer and dyed a soft shade of brown but still just as curly as ever.

His jog came to a halt at the sight of you. In the distance, in some space that the two of you weren’t quite a part of, the others were talking about how long they wanted to stay, what songs they were going to sing. Felix saying your name pulled you and Chris back into the space with everyone else.

“That’s right, I don’t think (Y/N) got to meet Chris last time because she was working.”

You wondered how Felix knew Chris. You wondered how the universe had aligned in such a way that you ended up once again in the same friend group. You wondered if you should say something, mention that you already knew each other very well, or at least had at one point. That, at one point, he had meant the world and more to you. Even if you wanted to bring it up, you didn’t get the chance.

Chris smiled at you. “Hey. It’s nice to meet you.”

It felt as if he had reached into your chest and pulled your heart out. You blinked in disbelief but nodded and forced yourself to return his smile. “Uh, yeah…You too.”

With his arm still around your shoulder, Hyunjin began to lead you inside, telling you all about the crazy day he had had. You were listening or, at least, trying to, but you found your eyes wandering towards Chris who was walking in the back of the group with Felix. Your eyes met for a second, his unreadable, before you broke contact. You all were led into one of the larger karaoke rooms, and you allowed yourself to plop onto the couch as people started ordering drinks and snacks. Everyone seemed to be moving so quickly around you, but you were still frozen out on the street, your mind struggling to join your body in the room with everyone else.

“Hey. It’s nice to meet you.”

What had you been expecting? A breakup and over a year of not talking didn’t exactly deserve a warm welcome, but still.

Without waiting for the snacks to arrive, Felix, Seungmin and Hyunjin all jumped into a very enthusiastic rendition of Twice’s Dance the Night Away, dance moves and all. You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched them, Maya sitting beside you playing the tambourine and cheering, you clapping. On the couch opposite of you, Chris was watching you, his eyes shifting from you to Hyunjin and then back.

He wondered if the two of you were dating and, if so, for how long? He wondered if it had been easy for you to get over him, or if your drifting had hurt you nearly as much as it had hurt him? He wondered if there would ever be a right time to explain to your new friends your history, if he would even begin to be able to explain why he had acted like he didn’t know you. He could still see you on the street, wrapped tightly in Hyunjin’s arms, leaning into him and smiling. A smile that faded the second you had seen him.

A few drinks and several songs later, Felix was pushing the mic towards Chris, urging him to sing.

“You’ve been really quiet tonight,” the younger boy commented. “Come on, it’s your turn.”

On the opposite couch, you were jokingly arguing with Hyunjn about who the better singer was, your smile so bright it was practically blinding. The strobe lights that were going around the room were casting a nice hue over your dark skin, making you glow. Had you always been this beautiful? Chris took the mic from Felix and went over to the control panel, scrolling through the songs until he found the one he was looking for.

The room was instantly filled with the calming bass of Frank Ocean’s Thinkin Bout You. Those who didn’t know Chris were left listening in awe as he sang, flowing nicely between the rap parts and falsetto notes. Those who didn’t know about your relationship with Chris didn’t understand why the song, his voice, the look in his eyes all made you have to leave. By the end of the second chorus, you were excusing yourself, rushing out of the room and back outside.

Chris watched as you left, thought about going after you, but Hyunjin beat him to it.

“I’m gonna go check on (Y/N)…” he announced once the song was over and you still hadn’t come back.

“You’re a really good singer,” Maya said. Chris barely noticed that she had slid closer to him on the couch and was leaning into him.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, “Hey, are they dating?”

“Hm?” She followed his eyes towards the door. “(Y/N) and Hyunjin?”

Outside, you were sitting on the pavement, one elbow resting on your knee as you scrolled through twitter. Hyunjin sat down on the ground beside you, handing you a water bottle.

“What’s up with you?” he asked. You took a drink from the bottle, a much-needed switch up from the alcohol you had been drinking inside. You needed to clear you head, and you had hoped that the air would have been enough. But you just couldn’t stop thinking about the way Chris had looked at you. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he could just show up here like this. “By now you’d have gone through half the girl group songs available, but you’ve been really spacey tonight.”

“It’s nothing. I just needed some air…” you lied, careful not to look at him. You couldn’t lie to Hyunjin.

“If this is your anxiety, I’m sorry. I should’ve mentioned that there would be new people. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Hyunjin was sweet, and you really did appreciate him. “It’s…it’s not that. It’s not my anxiety.”

“Then…is it just Chris?” Hyunjin turned his head to try and make eye contact with you. “He’s really not a bad guy. A little cheesy sometimes, but he’s nice. I’m sure if you get to know him-“

“That’s honestly the last thing I want to do.” Hyunjin seemed surprised by your response. You let out a deep breath. “I’m fine, Hyunjin. Let’s just go back inside. It’s been a long week and I just wanna get drunk and have a good time with my friends.”

You stood up and started to head inside, freezing when you noticed Chris standing in the entrance. Hyunjin followed your gaze before looking back at you, his eyes a silent question. Do you want me to stay? You shook your head and pushed him gently back inside, waiting on the curb for whatever it is Chris was going to say.

“You feeling okay?”

Hands in your coat pockets, you couldn’t help but shake your head in disbelief. “You sure seem concerned about someone you met 30 minutes ago.” Your words cut into him and Chris let out a deep breath.

“I deserved that. I just didn’t want to make things awkward for you in front of your boyfriend.”

“My what now?” It took you a minute to realize that he was talking about Hyunjin, the laugh that escaped you catching Chris off guard. “Hyunjin isn’t my boyfriend. He may as well be my little brother.”

“Oh...I…I just thought.”

“That since I was hugging a handsome boy we just had to be dating?” Chris nodded and you sighed. “Listen, I can’t do this right now. I’ve had a terrible week at work and running into my first love wasn’t exactly on my weekend to do list.”

Trying to suppress the smile that was spreading across his face, Chris asked, “I was your first love?”

“If you want to get technical, you were my only love, but I don’t exactly go shouting that from the rooftops.”

“I couldn’t really tell considering how easily you gave up.”

Your grip around your water bottle tightened at his words. “Don’t talk like you know anything about how I feel…felt.” You forced yourself to use the past tense. You weren’t sure what it was that you were feeling, aside from being annoyed that he was doing this on the one day that you were supposed to be relaxing. “I tried. I wanted to make it work more than anything, but it just didn’t. And you’re no less to blame than I am.”

Chris looked offended, like he couldn’t believe that you would try to blame your failed relationship on him.

“When I said we should break up, you didn’t even try to change my mind. You stopped calling just like I stopped calling. This is a two-way street. You can’t just show up and blame me for everything because, at some point, you gave up, too.”

The two of you stood there on the sidewalk in a silence that felt suffocating until finally you started to head back inside.

“Look. I don’t wanna fight with you or drag up old memories.” You were forcing him to look you in the eye. “But we’re gonna have to get along. If not for our own sakes then for Felix, Seungmin, and Hyunjin.”

Chris’ eyes moved across your face, taking you in. You were the same, but you felt so different. If this had been two years ago, he would’ve reached for you. He wanted so badly to hug you, a closeness that he had missed even if he couldn’t bring himself to admit it. But this was now and, not even an hour ago, he had pretended he didn’t know who you were so he could only imagine how long it would be before you could reach that closeness again.

“Yeah…you’re right…”

It would still be a few weeks before you told Hyunjin about Chris. He bugged you about it every now and then after that night, curious about why you didn’t want to hang out with Chris and started asking now more than ever who would be joining for dinner before giving your answer. At first, you brushed it off with a change of topic or a quick distraction, but Hyunjin was relentless and eventually you gave in.

The two of you were sitting in your living room, the TV paused on some drama Maya talked you into watching. Hyunjin just stared at you in shock.

“So, you and Chris grew up together?” You nodded. “And you dated for 4 years?” Another quick nod. “And I’m the only one that knows you two aren’t actually strangers?” One more nod and Hyunjin shifts to stare at the TV, letting out a long “wow”.

“He said he didn’t want to make it weird for everyone, so a fresh start was better than bringing up the past.” You were purposefully leaving out the part where he had thought Hyunjin was your boyfriend. That was not something you wanted to throw out there.

“I mean, I guess it get that. But, what now? Felix and Seungmin have been asking why you never want to hang out anymore, and you can only blame work so much.”

“I know,” you sighed. “I miss them, too. I just need to be ready to see Chris again. I mean, even if you didn’t know what was going on, you felt how tense things were with us that night. There’s a lot we haven’t dealt with.”

Hyunjin moved so that he was directly facing you, looking you in the eyes in a way that made you feel see through. “Do you think you’re ever going to be ready?”

New Year’s Eve 2020

You hadn’t known until Hyunjin gave your hand a reassuring squeeze that you were holding your breath. The two of you were in the elevator, on your way up to the party that Maya was throwing for the new year. As long as you had known her, she was the type to go all out when she planned things, so you weren’t really surprised when she’d dropped off a masquerade mask for you at work earlier in the week.

“What’s this for?” You held the mask gently in your hands, admiring the intricate black and gold lace detailing. Maya smiled at you, her excitement practically spilling out of her.

“For my party! I was looking for decorations and, when I saw it, I just knew I had to get it for you. Now, all you need it a dress and a date!”

You sighed, placing the mask in your lap. “I can get a dress. A date is a lot less likely. You know I’ve been too busy to date.”

Maya groaned. The two of you had already had this conversation a few times, so you were only half listening as she told you how smart and pretty and nice you were and she didn’t understand why you wouldn’t at least try to date.

“Why don’t you just come with Hyunjin? I mean, you two are always together anyway.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘always’…”

“Right. Well, I know a few other people are bringing dates, and I’m bringing Chris, so I just—”

You cut her off. “Wait, you’re bringing who?” You had to be hearing things. She couldn’t mean your Chris. Although, he wasn’t really yours, was he?

“You remember Chris! God, (Y/N), I know you never hang out with us anymore, but you can’t not remember.” Maya started gushing about how cute she thought he was, and you couldn’t breathe. While it didn’t sound as if they were dating, she was definitely interested in Chris. You wondered if you should say something. You wondered if Chris was interested in her, if he would date her without telling her the truth about your past relationship.

“(Y/N), are you listening to me?”

You blinked, pulling yourself out of your thoughts and turned your attention back to your friend. Maya was beautiful with soft features and kind eyes. You smiled at her, willing yourself to think about her happiness and not your…jealousy?

“Yeah, sorry, I just remembered I forgot to prep some things for tomorrow’s meeting.” It wasn’t a complete lie. You still had some paperwork to proofread and copy. “Thanks for the mask, but I gotta get back to work. I’ll see you at the party?”

You started to gather up your bag, the mask, and the last of your lunch so you could head back to your desk. Maya stared after you as you left.

“Yeah…yeah, I’ll see you at the party.”

As the doors to the elevator opened, you were immediately swept up in the atmosphere. Maya had rented a penthouse suite which was jampacked with people. You turned to look at Hyunjin who gave you a small smile before leading you into the mess and towards the bar. Despite the masks, you still found yourself scanning the room for Maya or Chris.

Handing you your drink, Hyunjin nudged you gently. “You okay?”

You held your glass tightly and gave a tightlipped smile. “Mhm. I just, uh, wanna tell Maya how great this party is.” Still only a half lie. Maya was a design major, and it certainly showed. From the decorations, food spread, and music, it was hard to believe she had put this together in such a short amount of time.

“Right…well, do you want to dance until we can find Maya?” He nudged you again, this time playfully, a small gleam in his eyes behind his dark feathered mask. You couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Sure.”

Hyunjin led you out onto the floor and you couldn’t help but laugh at him. The song playing was a slower one, and Hyunjin wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. They skirted over your hips up towards your waist and resting for a very awkward moment on your forearms. You took his hands and moved them back to your waist before resting your arms on his shoulders.

“Don’t be such a dork. You can touch me. I’m not gonna bite you.”

“Sorry,” Hyunjin laughed. “We’ve just never done this before.”

“True, but just relax. Fancy dress aside, I’m still just me.”

“Mind if I cut in?” Dressed in a crisp suit with a deep blue mask, Chris stood behind Hyunjin, who gave you a questioning glance. You nodded and Hyunjin excused himself back to the bar. Chris hesitated for a moment before closing the distance between the two of you, his hands gently resting on hips and the two of you swaying in time to the music.

“Where’s your date?” You asked. It came out more harshly than you intended which instantly made you bite your tongue.

“I told Maya about us.”

“What?”

“She tried to kiss me, and I couldn’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“Are you and Hyunjin together?”

“I already told you we’re not dating.”

“But would you?”

Your eyes moved from Chris to the bar where you could see Hyunjin obviously try to look like he wasn’t looking at the two of you. Turning back to Chris you said, “No. He’s sweet, and I’m so so glad to know him, but Hyunjin is like a younger brother.”

Chris was silent for moment before saying, “You’ve been avoiding everyone because of me.” You started to deny it, but he didn’t give you a chance to. “(Y/N), we both know it’s true. I don’t want that for you. I don’t want you to suddenly push everyone out of your life because you don’t want to see me, and I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking anything from you.”

Part of you was annoyed that he so accurately pieced together everything you had been feeling since that night at karaoke. The rest of you was relieved that you weren’t the one who had to say it.

“We just have to figure out a way to actually be friends,” you mused.

“It shouldn’t be this hard, though, (Y/N).”

You two had managed to dance through two songs, the third bringing in a tempo switch that didn’t exactly allow for a slow dance. Without saying anything, Chris grabbed your hand and led you away from the dance floor, past the bar and to a small corner table. The two of you plopped down, Chris sliding in close, using the loud music as an excuse to be near you.

“Do you really think it would be hard to be friends with me?” You found the question leaving your lips before you could stop it.

“Yes.” He said it with no hesitation, definitely hurting your feelings a bit. “It’s not because there’s anything wrong with you. I just…”

“You just can’t be friends with someone that you’re still in love with.”

The two of you stared at each other for a while, both at a loss for words. Until you leaned in. Your lips just barely brushed over his. Maybe it was you, maybe it was him. You weren’t really sure, but someone leaned in more and deepened the kiss. It became less of a peck, more real, and you were thrown back into that damp summer heat, that cherry flavored first kiss. When you pulled away, your foreheads were pressed together and there had been a shift, something you hadn’t felt since high school.

“What now?” You asked.

Somewhere in the suite, someone started the midnight countdown. As the room erupted in cheers, Chris pulled you in for another kiss.

[marueonmain]

WINDFLOWER

part eight ~ the chance to pipe ~

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (part six) (part seven) (part eight)

A/N: We are in it now; thank you for sticking around. Messages/Asks are open and greatly appreciated.

Summary: Alex seeks Will’s support and advice for how best to shoot his shot with Y/N. He also takes his first shower in 72 hours.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Language.

Word Count: 2.6k

He arrived at Will's apartment, still wearing the mindless grin that Y/N coaxed out of him. Alex walked through the unlocked front door and straight to his friend's bedroom. It was bright, not near as cave-like as his own, and there was the lingering scent of a candle burned recently. Will sat at his desk: a second chair set-up next to him: scrolling through the youtube analytics for his most recent video.

It seemed that CPM was up – good news for the video and its one-million views. Will cleared his throat, causing Alex to freeze just two steps inside. Without lifting his head or dragging his attention from his screen, Will said with a flat and ominous tone, "I warned yous."

"What?"

"About being late." Spinning his chair, Will revealed the blue spray-painted plastic bat sitting in his lap. He kept his stern face for another five seconds before breaking into his usual toothy smile and laugh.

Rather than scrambling together a witty remark in return, Alex chuckled along. To that gag as well as the other usual playful abuse about his laziness and tardiness. Will finished the last one-liner he had prepared in the extra time he was made to wait for Alex to arrive, and his expression faltered. Not that he did not appear cheerful anymore – the smile remained – but it relaxed as a single eyebrow raised.

Will asked, "What's got you all giddy?"

Looking down at his hands, Alex chuckled again, though it sounded more akin to a humorous scoff, and gave no answer. He buried his hands in his pockets and took the seat next to his friend.

"What is it?" Will pestered on. "James Charles unblocked you, did he?"

Alex punched him in the arm as hard as he could (not hard). "Fuck off."

Will rolled his eyes before turning to the camera. He hit record and, putting on his boisterous presentation voice, shouted, "Right! Hello, welcome back to the second channel – welcome back to oddly satisfying. It's been a..."

Top posts for that month included photos of symmetrical flower arrangements, videos of tape-peelings from miniature canvases, woodworking gifs, beautiful block calligraphy, slow-motion capture of a sewing machine, and animation to fulfill the desire to sharpen a pencil to a perfect point every time. Alex gave out ratings of nines and tens like he had a quota to fill. As the video continued, Will argued the scores with him more and more. None so much as he did with the seven Alex gave to a real shit submission of ping-pong trick shots.

It was not an average filming session (unbeknownst to Will); it was a game where with each passing minute, Alex was building up his courage for what he wanted to talk about after the video was over. George had been the one person in the friend group he told about his feelings for Y/N, and that had not gone over well. But Alex thought he might now be able to explain it better – explain himself better – and be supported. Will was, after all, behind the act of snakelike behaviour, a very caring person who had held Alex's hand while he fixed himself several times over.

"What do you give the paw-print painting then, Alex?"

"Hm?" Torn from the bed of his subconscious thoughts into the waking world, Alex darted his eyes to the screen and to the camera. "Uh, ten. Definitely a ten."

"Right. Anyway, we'll end on a good note. Be sure to hit that like button for more reddit videos and go subscribe to Alex's channel—"

"It's really epic!"

"—link will be in the description. And we'll see you guys later!" Will gave a terse salute to the camera and, once the outro was finished, dropped his voice to normal and asked, "Care to do a second one while we're here?"

"Why not?"

Springing from his chair to his feet, Will crossed the bedroom to his cupboard and began to change. Giving the illusion of there being a more significant passage of time between filming. Taking off his beanie revealed his dark unruly hair, which he covered again with his 'crisis actor' hat.

"I was wondering if I could get your advice on something?" Alex began not moving from his seat at the desk. Neither did he turn his attention much from the screen, to give Will some privacy.

"What's that?"

"There's this girl— Well, um, this woman rather, that I am interested in approaching – romantically – and—"

"Why you talking like an android?" Will stripped himself of his black and green shirt. Interestingly enough, the same black and green shirt as Ethan wore when he last had the sidemen member over for a video. "Could you be normal for a minute?"

"I like her. Ok? What now?"

He pulled on a shovel hoodie and grabbing another turned to Alex. Gesturing to the pink zip-up jacket, he asked, "You have a decent shirt under there or want to borrow one of these?"

"I'm fine. But about the girl. Should I even bother?"

"How do you mean? If there's the chance to pipe – you got to take it."

"No. Like if I just end up fucking it up, why—?"

"Stop thinking about the end. We're at the beginning, alright? You're a good-looking lad, even got a decent trim for once in your life." Will ruffled Alex's hair as he returned to the seat beside him. "You're verified. All you got to do is slide into the lass' twitter DMs, and you're in."

"I'm not verified," he said with a bit of a huff. "You're verified."

Will shrugged. Pulling his phone from his pocket to check messages. "Whatever. You ready to record?"

"Not yet. What if she has a boyfriend?"

"Chin him."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I. If there's not a ring and a date...well...it isn't really all that important, is it?" Will scrolled through the next ten posts on r/oddlysatisfying, before changing his mind, scrolling back up, and switching to another subreddit. Adding to his previous comment, "Unless it's Mia we're talking about."

Alex sucked his teeth. "Unfortunately, it is."

"Shut it. I'm having none of that." He pushed Alex's shoulder with one hand and wagged a jokingly accusatory finger. "Let's get back to it."

"Alright. Alright."

Will turned to the camera and, as quickly as he had dropped it, picked up his presentation voice, shouting, "Right! Hello, welcome back to this incredibly ad-friendly youtube channel. Instead of rating sand-cutting and slime, today we're gonna be rating dogs again. So this, welcome to r/aww. There should be some decent content here..."

It was nice sifting through the top posts of the week: a golden retriever taking care of baby bunnies, deer fawns sleeping under lawn furniture, an albino skunk, and a lot more ducklings and birds in general than Alex remembered being popular on the subreddit. Their last filming was full of constant challenges and debates, but when Alex gave nine and ten ratings for animals Will agreed whole-heartedly – save for a single dispute over a cat picture. It was cute; Will just was not terribly fond of cats.

Alex simultaneously commentated for the video and pondered – now that he had his friend's blessing – how best to shoot his shot with Y/N. He beamed with excitement and energy, and the evidence was in the light blush of his cheeks. It was not soft happiness like he felt when sitting on the rooftop of his apartment building, with a sausage roll in his stomach and a decent buzz. It was sharp happiness like the entire world had been dragged into photoshop and had the contrast shot right up to one hundred. All the dust from the corners of his mind was gathered, swept up, dumped in a bin, and set ablaze.

Before Alex could think of anything, it was the end of the video.

"Thank you very much for watching! Hope you enjoyed. Check-out Alex's channel and the WillNE main channel, links in the description, and we'll see you guys later." Will stopped the recording, dropped the act, and pulled out his phone again. There were dozens of messages; his fingers flew across the keyboard, shooting off response after response. "Thanks for helping out the cause."

Alex returned Will's fist-bump. He stood from his chair just to walk the single step and sit on the edge of Will's bed. Any distance would do in helping him ease into the details of his situation; after all, it was not just any woman that he was after.

He started, attempting to sound casual, as if the topic was organic, "What do you think about Re—?"

"Red and Sammy?" Will asked distractedly. Believing he had finished the question how Alex meant to, he took it upon himself to answer it as well, "Haven't met Red to be fair, but Sammy is a solid bloke."

"You think?"

"Yeah, Gee wanted to rearrange some furniture, and Josh and I were useless. I rang Sammy, he came round, practically moved everything himself – even brought beers. You did well good picking him, Lex."

At what was likely intended to be a genuine compliment, Alex felt himself shifting a single step closer to his internal self-destruct button. Of course, Alex knew. He knew that it was not healthy for his mind or mood to be so fragile or rather so easily swayed, but there he was – fuming with misplaced anger.

How could he tell Will? How could he explain he wanted a chance with one of their mates’ girlfriends without coming off as a bad person? Was he a bad person?

Did he care? When he came into the world running a race where he was made to wear sandals while everyone else got trainers. Alex stood from the bed and readied to leave.

Attempting to lighten the mood despite likely not knowing why it dimmed, Will added, standing to throw an arm around Alex's shoulders, "And who said you have no friends?"

"You do."

Will chuckled. "Huh, I must be dead smart me."

"Alright, well..." He intentionally trailed off, ducking from under his friend's arm.

"Are you off?"

"Yeah, I'll sees you later." Alex left the bedroom with quicker and heavier steps than was his usual gait; the difference, however, was not enough for someone outside himself to notice. It was frustration. It was: a set jaw. : an unnatural heat rising from his core to all his extremities. : and a mouth pinched smaller than what seems humanely possible.

If he were a 2D cartoon character, as comments under all his videos would suggest, his irises would be redrawn in the shape of flames. Steam might have even come from his ears.

George likes Sammy. Will likes Sammy. James (or at least drunk James who met him) likes Sammy.

And Alex wanted to steal his girlfriend. Fuck.

He raced through the flat to the front door; just through the threshold and into the hall, he stopped. Waiting to hear the latch bolt behind him. Like the clap of a hypnotherapist bringing their patient back from a breakthrough session – the sound drained him of his anger.

It was not helpful to him to be angry at the situation: angry with himself.

Alex walked the hall to the lift and stepped in. During his descent, he looked at the warped reflection of himself in the metal doors: the prickle of hair on his upper lip, the trim which was different but somehow identical to all his previous, a picture in pink – and also red.

It was the reflection of a man. Despite how his followers portrayed him in collages and fanfics, he was an adult man. Confronting that distorted image altered his perception: what he knew himself to look like: his conscious image.

How interesting he must look in the strange light of an average person's perception. How confused. How tired.

DING of the sliding doors opening, ripped his warped reflection in half. Alex exited half-expecting for Y/N to be there on the other side, considering she was everywhere recently. Luckily, she was not. But that fleeting thought of Y/N snowballed as he walked the hall to his apartment. Outside the door, he stopped and stood Blair Witch style facing it but not moving to unlock it or get the key from his pocket just yet.

Y/N. Alex thought of Y/N. Thought of first meeting her with her cute ears and flushed face. How she doted on Sammy. Thought of speaking with her in the foyer with her calm aurora and chin-hugging top. How he wanted nothing more than to be cute with her – for them to have a song.

Thought of when she was making waffles with shaking hands and a little wrinkle between her eyebrows. How she dodged his questions. Thought of ~the dream~ and how different he would act if it were real.

He rummaged through his pockets to find his key. When he did, he shoved it in and pulled it out the lock with an equal amount of unnecessary force.

It was late. 

Alex had been awake over twenty-four hours, and he wanted – needed – he just needed it to stop. Unable to handle consciousness much longer, he dragged his feet along the straight shot to his bedroom. And into his bathroom.

Not particularly a nighttime shower type of person, Nor a morning shower type of person, Alex was more a when-I-want-to-or-remember-to-shower type of person.

During slight depressive slumps, however, the more accurate category for him would be a once-the-grease-starts-to-drip-off-my-hair-that-is-when-I-will-shower type of person.

Stepping under the showerhead, the warm water wrapped around him. Pelted down on the pale skin of his shoulders and back, relaxing the muscles there. Slender fingers racked shampoo through his tangled hair: it smelled like almonds. Like artificial almonds designed by chemists who had never seen or smelt an almond before. It was nice.

He ducked his head to rinse out the suds and lost his balance, falling forward a bit. Catching himself with his hands on the wall in front of him; it jolted him out from under his somnambulism spell.

Hopping out of the shower, he dried off and wrapped his single towel around his waist. There in the mirror above the sink were those little prickles of a moustache. Alex stepped up, took his razor in his right hand, grabbed the shaving foam off the counter with the left, and looked to his right again to find he had dropped the razor in the sink. His brain was too exhausted to focus on more than one thought – more than one task at a time.

With less than six flicks of the wrist, his upper lip was clean-shaven, and he was trudging along to his bedroom. Alex let his towel drop to the floor; he tugged on a clean pair of pajama bottoms and pitched himself from the other side of the room onto his bed.

"Ow," he muttered to his aching bones. Alex closed his eyes, and for the first time since ~the dream~ appreciated the contemplative silence of his bedroom – and of his head.

Taglist: (message to join!) @angelbabyivy​

[noctuascion]

;; There's a lack of vampire Crypto content and I'm TIRED !!!

This is from an AU a friend (Chini) and I discuss every now and then and something I'm actually doing a series of (eventually, when I can manage the first chapter), but it isn't particularly obvious in this, but whatever !! I'm writing again and have inspiration so no bully!! No semantics!! ;;

--

The house was… dark. It was always dark. The only lights allowed on were ones with dim bulbs, and, even then, those sometimes weren't allowed. Elliott never minded. If his nocturnal boyfriend was asleep or off doing his own thing, he'd turn the lights on, open the curtains, and do whatever to bring a little light into the dark, gloomy abode Park and him called home.

Seeing as he was originally a thorn in the vampire's side and had hated his guts to the point of tossing everything out of his room and onto the lawn, he didn't like pushing his luck, even if they had slowly gotten closer, grown kinder, more open with one another. Elliott's opened up about his own life, and Park's relayed his long, tragic backstory. They were still fighting some demons, dealing with a darkness in their hearts that could only be fought alone. But after a long day of dealing with the loss and heartache, they have the other to help ground them.

Still, none of that stopped Elliott from being a little shit sometimes.

Park was centuries old, and Elliott wasn't a stranger to that. He's lived through a lot, and he's lost a lot, and he's experienced a lot. Still, weirdly enough, the human has far more experience in… certain matters pertaining to romantic endeavors. That was discovered one day when Elliott had placed his hands on Park's hips, trailed a few kisses down his neck, and, suddenly, he was gone—like he vanished into thin air.

Apparently, he's an absolute prude—a prudish vampire; can't make this stuff up—and has a habit of getting horribly flustered whenever Elliott makes provocative moves on him.

As the vampire had put it, older courting techniques had rarely gotten past "sensual handholding"—whatever the fuck that was. He's had a few lays, sure, but he's also been alive for five hundred years, give or take, so a few isn't much.

Elliott had called that hilarious.

Park had told him to go fuck a pillow.

It was an incredibly slow, painful process, and Elliott has had way too many run-ins with whatever wall Park was leaning on before he transformed into a bat and left his boyfriend to unknowingly bust his nose against, but they had eventually gotten to a point where the other didn't look like he was about to catch fire or transform and scurry off.

Elliott called it progress.

Park called it horny desperation.

Even with the amount of progress they made, Park had his moments, and Elliott loved taking advantage of them.

The vampire was currently in the kitchen, in the dark, indulging in Elliott's batch of brownies. Though he liked to deny it, he had a bit of a sweet tooth—vampires with sweet tooth's; can't make this shit up—and always snuck a few bites in, usually when he thought Elliott wasn't around.

Well, he was around, watching quietly from the kitchen doorway, smiling a devilish(ly handsome) smile, and slowly, carefully, made his way to the vampire's position. He had gotten past being startled easily, becoming accustomed to the sounds Elliott made and the warmth of his body, and the brunet was happy; he's had far too many memories of Park swinging his arm back and nearly breaking his nose. Bat boy had strength in those noodle arms.

With as much grace as he could manage, Elliott slid up behind his ethereal beauty and wrapped strong arms around his lithe waist. He momentarily tensed before relaxing.

"Elliott," came that smooch, rich voice of the other's, and—goodness, he could feel himself swooning. Too bad it was laced with minor irritation, otherwise he actually would've swooned.

"Hey there, beautiful," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of Park's neck. "Whatcha doin' there?"

"Minding my own business, unlike you."

"Aw, c'mon, sugar, you know you love me. Love me holding you close and whispering in your ear all kinds of nice things."

"You whisper euphemisms and dick jokes in my ear," the vampire muttered, trying his best to appear exasperated, but he was relaxing against Elliott's chest, so he was fighting a losing battle. "I think my opinion on the matter is obvious."

"You love it."

The vampire's shirt wasn't tucked into his pants like it normally was. Actually, he was opting for loungewear tonight—a large maroon sweater drowning his thin frame and black slacks hugging his legs just right. Elliott's nimble hands were able to slip beneath the apparel with ease, warm hands coming into contact with the other's frigid tummy.

There were a lot of things that startled Elliott when he first met Tae Joon. There was the weird skin color, the fangs, his ice-like temperature, having little to no weight, and the strange, glowing eyes. Sure, he should've expected at least half of those things, but the weight and temperature worried him. Park just explained that's how most vampires were: blood didn't provide protein and he couldn't generate any natural heat for himself. It was enough to quell any worries he may have, but he just made sure to provide warmth of his own.

Park tensed again at the hand on his stomach, slowly moving up, the fabric of his sweater shifting to accommodate the other. The familiar sensation of warmth, the other pressed so firmly against him from behind—and now he's beginning to whisper those obnoxious euphemisms in his ear, and—oh.

He… bit his ear.

Elliott was startled out of his little excursion after his boyfriend suddenly vanished (again) and was replaced by a screeching, angry bat that didn't appear too happy with the other's little scene.

"Okay, okay, calm down!" Elliott said, hands held up in a show of harmlessness, that he would do nothing to Tae Joon—well, not as a bat, at least. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to fluster you—w-well, I did, b-but not a bad fluster—I-I hope that wasn't a, um… bad fluster—"

The bat hisses before flying off into a little corner of the room, grabbing onto the ceiling with his tiny clawed feet, and hanging there with wings encasing his small body. Well… that's not good.

"Oh, my little fruit bat, come down! I'm sorry!"

A small huff left the bat, though there were no further actions. He knows how to appeal to the vampire's tastes, though. He was selective with what he liked, what made him happy. Most of it included Elliott himself, but, seeing as he was currently mad at him, so he's not sure just how well that'll work out.

Better than trying nothing, he supposes.

"Okay, look, if I promise not to embarrass you again, and I promise to do that thing you like so much, draw you a hot bath later, and get some sweet cuddles in, will you forgive lil' ol' me?"

For a moment, the bat seemed to actually consider the offer. His little eyes moved to look at his wings, thinking, before he suddenly dropped from the ceiling. Expertly, his wings came out, and he glided down before rapid flaps sent him towards Elliott. The man happily accepted the little creature with open arms, small claws gripping onto the t-shirt he was wearing.

With the creature secured, Elliott moved to their just as dark living room, though he allowed himself to turn on a lamp. It did little to light up the room, but at least he wasn't bumping into the table (again). He sat down on the nearest piece of furniture, which happened to be the loveseat, and allowed a gentle, tanned hand to place itself on Park's back. A content purr resonated from the small creature, and the human couldn't help but smile.

Park wasn't overly affectionate, especially when normal. He was always so weirdly awkward, never knew where to put his limbs and ending up shaming himself out of trying whatever he was doing. Elliott himself never seemed to care, but Park was just a bit of a mess when it came to these things. But, when he was a tiny, screeching menace, he seemed to calm down a lot more (weirdly enough), and forewent those awkward tendencies of his. He merely opted to lay against Elliott's shoulder, let his hand smooth over his back, and provide gentle, affectionate scratches.

For awhile, Park merely sat still, letting Elliott's hands warm and soothe him, but he eventually grew greedy and began moving up onto the other's shoulder, slipping under his shirt collar and nuzzling against his neck. The brunet let out a huff of laughter, reaching up to gently scratch his head, rewarded with content noises from the little creature.

"For a sour, rude vampire, you sure are a cutie pie." Elliott winced at the hiss he received, suddenly realizing that there was a vampire next to his neck. "Okay, sorry! I love you! You're the cutest, sweetest bean! Wouldn't hurt a fly! No, sir, I've met a few vampires in my day, and none of them hold a candle up to you! I love you! So much!"

Park released another content sound and settled against the other, shutting his eyes and indulging in the sense of warmth he only got from his stupid boyfriend.

[st-crylo]

Rebound

Part 9

A/N: Sorry again that it took so long to get this part out! Hopefully you guys will like the slice of drama I threw in there. Thanks so much for your patience, and I hope you enjoy!!

Warning: Swearing, minor angst

Word Count: 4.7K

Tagging: @haylaansmi @nankstasty @thomasscresswell @maybe-your-left

Masterlist

The next day, you decided you weren’t going to bring up Hux again unless that’s what Kylo wanted. So, you spent your day deciding whether or not to panic about dinner with the Solo’s. You had decided to panic.

Yes, you and Kylo were good friends once, and you had spent a lot of time there when you were younger, but you were older now, and both you and Kylo were phenomenally different people. Would they still like you? On top of that, since Rey was going to be there as well, you had to be worried about every single move you made. It would be easier to convince Kylo’s parents that the two of you were actually dating, but Rey was a different story. If you didn’t play your cards right in front of her, she was going to be able to see past you like cellophane. Hopefully, you could pull it off.

The whole day was spent with you pacing your room, or being on your phone as a distraction, until Kylo called. Once he did, you quickly got dressed into a nice blouse and jeans, deciding not to be too fancy. When you got outside, you were glad that you’d decided that. Kylo, like usual, was wearing a black shirt and black jeans, his leather jacket adding the only bit of color, with a K.O.R. patch on the chest pocket. You wondered if you’d ever get a jacket like that, too. 

In the driveway, Kylo gave you a hug as Mr. and Mrs. Skywalker stepped out of the house. Once Kylo let go, Mrs. Skywalker walked over to you, arms open before pulling you into an embrace.

“It’s wonderful to see you again, (y/n). Just so you know, Leia makes absolutely wonderful food. I know it’s been a few years, but just in case you forgot,” she said before letting go of you, holding your hands in hers as she looked you up and down. Her eyes were filled with brightness, but there was a playful look behind them as well. She was certainly still young at heart.

“Well, we’ll be taking Kylo’s car, so you kids can hop in the back,” Mr. Skywalker said, holding up Kylo’s keys. Kylo laughed from behind you, and you had to try your hardest to keep the smile from your face.

“Anakin, don’t be ridiculous. We can just take the sedan,” Mrs. Skywalker started.

“Oh no, I paid for this car, the least my favorite grandson can do is let me drive it,” Mr. Skywalker said with a grin before climbing in the car. Mrs. Skywalker opened the passenger door, and Kylo moved the seat forward so you two could climb in the back. You felt sorry for Kylo, since his legs would undoubtedly have to fold in like paper. He let you get in first though, insisting that he’d better be able to gauge how much room he was gonna have if you were already in the car. Once he had climbed in the backseat, it was an extremely tight fit, the length of Kylo’s legs practically causing him to lean against you. 

The whole ride to dinner, you were filled with anxiety. There was so much pressure to convince so many people that you were in a relationship, it was making your heart pound. Luckily, Kylo was occasionally rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, which was helping to keep you from fully freaking out. You tried to look out the window to quell your nerves, but it didn’t help that you were pulling into the same rich neighborhood that you’d been in for Jordan’s party. Though the memories from the party warmed a part of you, thinking about the fun you’d had, you couldn’t help but be even more intimidated by the fact that Kylo’s family had money, even though you’d never know it, looking at the way his grandparents lived. 

Pulling up to the house, you had to keep your jaw from dropping. When you were younger, Kylo and his parents had lived in a smaller, quainter house. You knew that his parents were successful, so you don’t know why you expected them to still live in that house, but you definitely weren’t expecting the magnificence of the house in front of you. It was a colonial house, white columns holding up the overhang of the triangular roof. The shutters were a crimson red that stood out against the russet color of the brick that made up the outside of the house. The lawn was perfectly taken care of, with beds of dahlias and chrysanthemums in full bloom, colors of pink and orange adding to the feel of fall. The path leading up to the house from the driveway was cobblestone, and it had a very old-timey feel to it. You weren’t surprised that Kylo would rather live with his grandparents.

You noticed as Mr. Skywalker pulled further into the driveway that there were already three cars parked. The third car you recognized, because you’d ridden in it with Rey plenty of times. The fact that they were already here didn’t help your nerves either. When the car came to a stop behind the familiar green car, you let out a breath before waiting patiently to be let out of the car.

“Anakin, that was ridiculously cramped for those two. Kylo practically squished poor (y/n),” Mrs. Skywalker said as she straightened out her dress, standing beside Kylo as he waited for you to step out of the car. Once you did, Kylo fixed the passenger seat back and closed the door. 

“Oh, come on Padme, they don’t mind.” Mr. Skywalker said as he winked at Kylo, who tried to hide a laugh, though he was unsuccessful. His grandmother gave the two of them dirty looks before linking your arm with hers and marching up to the house.

“Men,” she said with exasperation. “Thankfully, they aren’t our only company for tonight.” Soon, the two of you were at the front door, Kylo and Mr. Skywalker pulling up the rear. You wished you were beside Kylo instead, as your heart pounded within your chest. You worried everyone could hear it as Mrs. Skywalker reached to open the door. She was, however, beat to it. The door swung open and revealed Kylo’s mom, her short stature standing in the door frame, and her eyes twinkling as she smiled at you.

“Oh, (y/n), it’s been too long! Come in!” She took you from her own mother’s arms and brought you into the house, Kylo walking past his grandparents to catch up to you.

“Mom, I’ll show her around the house,” Kylo said, taking a hold of you and bringing you towards him. You almost tripped, but Kylo caught you in a very discreet way, helping you straighten up.

“Oh, alright dear. Don’t forget to say hi to Rey, her and your Uncle Luke are in the living room,” she said before giving Kylo a hug. You guessed that he hadn’t been around recently with how long the hug lasted, and you almost felt as if you were intruding on a moment. Soon, though, she let go of Kylo, letting him lead you to the stairway in the middle of the foyer before catching up with her parents. Once you and Kylo had ascended the stairs, and were out of sight from the adults, you heard them turn silent for a while before hearing Mr. Skywalker speak.

“He just needs a break, Leia. Sometimes, young boys like him do.”

You could almost feel Kylo roll his eyes as he took your hand, leading you to a room at the end of the hall. Once inside, you knew it was his room.

The walls were navy blue, covered with posters of different bands. All of his furniture was dark as well, looking as if it was all made of ebony, but you knew it was only the way the wood was stained. The sheets on his bed were black, and looked undisturbed, as if they’d been made up in expectation, but hadn’t been used yet. The curtains that were hung over the window were also navy blue, blocking out a lot of the light from the sunset. The room would’ve been totally dark if not for the light having been turned on. As you stood in front of the closed door, examining the room, Kylo practically threw himself onto the bed, laying the wrong direction on the bed, and staring at the ceiling.

“I wish they’d stop that,” his deep voice said, breaking the silence. You let out a sigh as you walked over, sitting down on the bed next to him. “Every time I leave the room, they talk about me.”

You sat beside him in silence, unsure whether or not to speak, and what you would say if you did. Sometimes, silence was better, more comforting. You felt that this was probably one of those times, but you still wanted to comfort Kylo, so you reached out and took his hand in yours.

It wasn’t a romantic gesture, rather a silent way of communicating that you were listening. However, your small action seemed to put a crack in the dam of Kylo’s emotions.

“It’s so frustrating. They want me to be this perfect kid, to get all A’s and get into a good college. They want me to fit into the mold that society wants me to fit into, but I just can’t. I’m not that person, I’m not that respectable, well-brought up kid, but I don’t want them to think it’s their fault. I just wish they would listen to me, listen to what I feel or have to say, but they never do.”

He rambled on like that for a few minutes, and as you looked over at him, you noticed that his eyes were beginning to tear up. With a sigh, you laid down beside him, placing your head on his chest, and wrapping your arms around his waist. Kylo responded by wrapping his arm around your shoulder, letting out his own sigh before falling into a comfortable silence.

You could tell that his room was probably a place of great discomfort for him. He didn’t have to explain why, you simply knew that there were memories associated with this room that made him feel vulnerable, and though it was a strange thing to be thankful for, you were glad he’d let you into this part of himself that was hidden from everyone else. You suspected he really didn’t have anyone to vent his frustrations to, so you were sure that just having someone listen was better than anything he’d ever received. 

Without warning, the door was flung open, causing you to jump up off of Kylo. There was a scoff from the doorway, where Rey stood, a disgusted look in her eyes. 

“I don’t even want to know what the two of you were doing,” she said.

“Has anyone ever in your life told you to fuck off?” Kylo said, without moving from his position on the bed. You instantly felt uncomfortable, caught between them.

“Only you, asshole. Dinner’s ready,” Rey said before walking off, leaving the door wide open. With a sigh, Kylo sat up, running a hand through his unruly black hair before standing up. You did the same, and followed him out of the room and down to the dining room. 

The dining room was as opulent as the entire house, the walls a lovely and deep red with white crown moulding. The table sat in the center, long enough to just fit everyone here tonight. At the head of the table was Mr. Skywalker. To his right, Mrs. Skywalker was seated next to him, talking enthusiastically to her son, your teacher Mr. Skywalker. Beside him, Rey was seated, having just gotten settled from being told to retrieve the two of you. At the other end of the table, Mr. Solo sat, with Mrs. Solo sitting to his right, beside Rey. There were two seats between Mrs. Skywalker and Mr. Solo saved for the two of you, with full plates already placed. 

As you approached the table, Kylo walked a little ahead of you, pulling out the seat closest to his father for you. You took the seat, understanding that Kylo didn’t want to sit next to his dad. As soon as you were settled, Kylo sat down beside his grandmother. 

“So, (y/n), how have you been? It’s been a while since we’ve seen you,” Mrs. Solo said as you started biting into your food.

“Pretty well, Mrs. Solo. Enjoying senior year so far,” you answered.

“Oh please dear, call me Leia. Now, how long have you and Ben been dating?” she asked. You looked to Kylo, who seemed to be doing the math in his head.

“Almost two months, I’m pretty sure,” you said. Kylo simply nodded in agreement.

“That’s wonderful! I always hoped the two of you would date some day! You were always very patient with Ben back then, I’m sure you still are,” she said before taking another bite of her food, waiting for your reply.

“Well, he is a bit of a handful, but I keep him in line.”

“Good, that’s just what he needs,” came Mr. Solo’s voice. You could almost feel Kylo roll his eyes.

“Let’s not talk like that tonight,” Mrs. Skywalker said before taking a sip of her wine. “We’re here for you two to meet this lovely girl, or rather, reintroduce yourselves. So, are the two of you planning to go to homecoming?” 

“We weren’t really wanting to go to the football game, but we’re going to the dance with a few friends. (y/n)’s mom wants to take pictures at their place before we go, though,” Kylo responded.

“We were supposed to be taking pictures at Poe’s place,” Rey said under her breath, just loud enough for people to hear.

“I’m sorry, Rey, did you say something?” Kylo said with a smirk, staring his cousin down. She looked up at him, a terrifying fire in her eyes, but a calm expression on her face. Her lips turned upwards into a smile, one so obviously fake, it could’ve been made of plastic.

“I don’t have a problem at all, Ben,” she responded. Kylo furrowed his brows, but didn’t respond. You could already tell that either something was going to go terribly wrong, or it would be pretty close. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re going, Ben! You haven’t been to homecoming before,” Leia added before taking another bite of the food in front of her.

“Well, for once, I’ve found someone worth going with,” Kylo said, looking at you. You knew he was just saying it to appease his parents and hold up the facade, but you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered at his words. 

The whole table finished their meal, and soon, Leia was pulling out a pie she had made for dessert. So far, Kylo and Rey had gone one without incident, and you were ready to breathe a breath of fresh air in relief, at least, until Mr. Solo said something that opened a can of worms.

“(y/n), you seem to be having a pretty good influence on Ben. This is the longest he’s gone without getting into some kind of trouble,” he said. You could feel Kylo clench his fist from beside you, but you placed a hand over his and simply smiled at Mr. Solo. 

“I certainly hope so,” you said before taking a bite from the piece of cherry pie you’d been given.

“Or maybe he just hasn’t been a bad influence on her yet,” Rey said, a little louder this time.

“Rey,” her father said from beside her.

For a moment, Kylo was silent as he glared at Rey, and you knew this would be a bloodbath. Watching, you waited for Kylo to say something, but desperately hoping he wouldn’t.

“Can I not breathe without you being such an obtuse bitch about me?” Kylo said finally, his voice ringing through the room, fists clenched at his side.

“Ben!” Leia said incredulously. Everyone else simply watched in awe, mouths agape.

“Kind of hard when you keep proving me right,” Rey yelled back, standing from the table and glaring right back. 

“What the fuck did I ever do to you?” Kylo yelled, also standing. In your mind, you were going through a roller coaster of emotions. You were embarrassed, as this was your first dinner with Kylo’s parents, and Rey and Kylo were now choosing to argue, but you were also angry that Rey had antagonized him, and that Kylo had fallen for the obvious bait. 

“For starters, you took away my best friend!” 

You looked up at Rey, shocked and angry. You were absolutely speechless. Luckily, Kylo expressed what was on your mind.

“We were friends before you even met her! You met her through me! Is it so awful that maybe we can be happy together?”

Deciding you’d had enough, you stood as well, taking Kylo’s hand and pulling him away from the altercation. Kylo was happy to follow you, his breaths coming out in huffs as he tried to keep himself from losing it. You looked back at Rey for a second, who looked dejected and hurt, but you really couldn’t find it in you to care. 

Kylo, once having broken eye contact with Rey, headed for the front door, opting to cool off in the fall evening air. Once the two of you were outside, Kylo headed for a bench in the garden, sitting down and resting his elbows on his knees as he put his face in his hands, black hair poking out in between his fingers. You were silent as you sat beside him, but you had to admit you were pretty angry yourself. It was ridiculous that Rey felt that only one of them could have you, and you hated feeling like some toy they were being forced to share. 

“I’m sorry,” Kylo said after a few moments of silence, causing you to let out a sigh. 

“I would say it’s fine, but I think we both know it isn’t. You had to know she was antagonizing you,” you responded, looking at him as he raised his head from his hands.

“Yeah, I did. I always fall for it, though. She knows exactly what to say to piss me off.” Kylo let out a sigh before running a hand through his hair. “Besides, it wasn’t fair of either of us to bring you into the argument.”

“Technically, talking about me started the argument,” you offered, taking one of his hands and holding it in yours. Kylo laced his fingers with yours, his large hands dwarfing yours, but the feeling of it being extremely comforting. “Eventually, she’ll come around.”

“Yeah, when we’ve ‘broken up.’ C’mon, she’ll never be happy while we’re together,” Kylo said, looking off into the distance.

“She probably won’t even be satisfied then, because I’ll be damned if I’m losing you as a friend again,” you said. Kylo turned to look at you, a small smile on his face. 

After a few minutes, Mr. and Mrs. Skywalker came out of the house, talking to Leia before heading towards the two of you. They both seemed to have disappointed looks on their faces, but you knew that Mr. Skywalker’s would hurt Kylo the most. As much as Kylo didn’t want to admit it, he still looked up to his grandfather.

“Are you kids ready to go?” the old man said to the two of you. You both nodded in response. “Alright, well let’s get in the car. Kylo, you need to at least text your mother and tell her you’re sorry.” Straight to the point.

Kylo rubbed the nape of his neck as he stood, not making eye contact with his grandfather. “Yes sir,” was all he said before heading towards the car. 

***

After the dinner, Rey made it a point to make sure she avoided eye contact with you. As much as you wished you were fine with it, it still hurt, especially since she thought Kylo had stolen you away from her. Thinking about that only made you angry though, and so you sought the friendship of Kylo’s friends, or rather, your new friends.

The week before homecoming was busy and full of excitement. With spirit week in full swing, it was nice to watch everyone dress up for each of the days, ending on Friday with Mos Eisley spirit day. You decided to opt out of the festivities this year, but Sami had gone all out. Each day she was in a more eccentric costume than the next, which was very different from her usual aesthetic. It was extraordinarily amusing on Friday when she was covered in red and gold for the school colors. 

“Wow, I never knew you had this kind of school spirit,” Kylo had mused at lunch that day. Sami stuck out her tongue at him.

“Sorry I didn’t want to be a stick in the mud for senior year. Besides, it’s a good week! I turned in my application for the Coruscant Institute of Art!” she replied before taking a bite out of her cafeteria chicken strip.

“Wow, congrats! I hope you get in!” you said, leaning against Kylo’s shoulder, decidedly not hungry at the moment. 

“Me too! Mom’s on board and everything, so if I get in, that’s where I’m going!” She said excitedly.

“That’s so great, Sami!” Alan said.

“At least you know what you want to do. I’ve got no fucking clue,” Kylo said with a sigh. 

“Why don’t you write? Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted to do?” Phasma said from the other side of Alan.

“You write?” you asked, looking up at Kylo. He was blushing slightly, but was obviously trying to hide it.

“Yeah, a little. I mostly journal, but I’ve wanted to write books for a long time,” he said, scratching the nape of his neck. 

“I think you should do that, then. I bet you’d be a great writer.”

Unbeknownst to either of you, across the table, Sami had pulled out her phone, sending a message to Phasma.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they were actually dating.

Yeah, no kidding, was Phasma’s reply. 

At the end of the day, the homecoming plans were set into motion. It had been decided on Tuesday that Phasma and Sami were going to stay the night with you Friday night so that you could all get ready for the dance together, and so that everyone would be there for pictures before heading for the school. It was exciting for you, considering it would be your first sleepover with your new friends.

“Alright, Kylo, I’m gonna follow you, so don’t drive too crazy,” Phasma said as the four of you stepped out of the front school doors.

“Trust me, there’s no way I can with all the traffic going into our neighborhood. Can’t believe you guys all get to spend the night together and leave little ole me wondering what you’re up to all night,” Kylo said with a fake pout, causing you to playfully shove him away.

“My mom would kill me if I brought you in the house, much less my room. We’ll call you in the middle of the night to keep you entertained,” you said. Kylo laughed as Phasma and Sami split off, heading for Phasma’s car. Like usual, you tossed your stuff into the car while Kylo discreetly lit a cigarette before climbing into the car himself. Once he did so, he rolled the window down and exhaled, the cloud of smoke flying away on the wind.

“Hope you ladies have fun tonight,” Kylo said as he backed out of his parking spot. 

“I hope so, too. It’s the first time since the summer that I’ve had a sleepover,” you responded, a pang in your chest as you thought about the last time you, Rey, and Rose all had a sleepover at Rose’s place. It was sad to think that it would probably be the last time you would ever have fun with Rey like that. 

“Well, I’m sure the three of you will have a great time,” Kylo assured before taking another drag. 

Like usual, the traffic to get out of the school was awful, but soon Kylo was pulling into your neighborhood, Phasma and Sami close behind. Kylo, naturally, pulled into the driveway when he arrived at his grandparents’ place. Phasma parked in the cul-de-sac, on the spot of the curb between your house and the Skywalker house. Soon, you were climbing out of the mustang, making sure to grab your backpack too, and waving a goodbye to Kylo before walking over to Phasma and Sami, who were climbing out of the car. You looked back at Kylo once more, who was finishing up his cigarette, making eye contact with him. He winked at you and you simply shook your head before leading Phasma and Sami to your house. 

Once inside, you were practically bombarded by your mother, who was desperate to learn all about the new friends you’d made. Though Phasma was dressed in her normal all-black androgynous attire, Sami’s spirit wear made your mom a lot more open to talking to both of them. You almost wondered if Sami had thought that through. 

“Well, I’ll order you ladies a pizza! If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask!” your mom said with a smile as the three of you headed up the stairs. 

“Thank you so much, Mrs. (y/l/n)!” Sami replied before turning around and following you into your room. Once in your room, everyone dropped their things, and you let out a sigh as you plopped onto the bed. 

“Is she always like that?” Phasma asked once Sami had closed the door behind her. 

“No. She just started being like that after what happened with Shawn. She’s just glad I’m hanging out with people again, even if they aren’t my old friends,” you responded, flipping over to lay on your stomach and pulling out your phone, scrolling through instagram. 

“Speaking of your old friends, neither of you said how dinner went,” Sami said, taking the seat at your desk. She looked out the window, surveying the cul-de-sac. 

“Practically a disaster,” you said with a sigh. “Rey antagonized Kylo, and Kylo fell for it. Then, Rey had the nerve to say Kylo ‘stole’ me from her.” Phasma scoffed, sitting on your bed now as well.

“That’s gross. If either of them were open to the idea, you could be friends with both,” Phasma added.

“I know. It’s just the fact that Rey can’t stand the fact that I would date Kylo. It would be easier if she knew we’re just friends, but she doesn’t.”

“Are you really just friends, though?” Sami asked, causing a stunned silence to fall over you. You could feel your face heating up against your will, and you couldn’t hide the shock that had hit you, like a freight train going through the middle of nowhere. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, hoping that Sami had some other thoughts in mind, and not what you felt she was going to say.

“I mean, without prompting, the two of you act like a couple anyways. Is there any way that you might have feelings for Kylo?” Sami asked, turning your desk chair to face you. 

“No! I mean, he’s one of my best friends, I can trust him with anything, but I don’t feel anything romantic for him,” you insisted, feeling an intense heat under the stares of your two friends. After a few seconds, Sami simply shrugged, deciding to drop the subject.

“As long as you’re sure,” she said before reaching to turn on your TV. You turned on Netflix and started a show, but as you sat there watching, your mind couldn’t help but wander. 

Was it possible that you did have feelings for Kylo? No, you couldn’t possibly, he was like a brother to you. Of course, any time he looked at you a certain way, your heart did flutter, and you couldn’t deny that you liked the way it felt when you held his hand, or when he kissed your cheek. No, you didn’t have any feelings for him, and even if you did, there was no way he had feelings for you. 

[imaginethathaikyuu]

as a fellow akaashi whore, may i request s/o being the manager nd dating him in secret or something?? idk just fluff i just love him

sooo…. when you requested this you probably expected a short little scenario, but… uh… take a look at that word count yikeslook, idk what happened but this scenario has taken over my life for a week now. and here are the results. (oh, and, spoiler alert: his s/o isn’t the team’s manager… uh… oops? also, akaashi whores UNITE) 

most importantly: round of applause for my beta reader, editor in chief, very good friend who has way too high of a tolerance for my bullshit and dumb ideas, @heichou-in-my-head, better known as pip. i don’t know how you do it, but holy shit is this honeybun grateful for you pippy. sorry my trouble with tenses gave you a hard time with this one, but what else do you expect from me? (seriously, thank you for all you do for me! ^_^) 

without further ado….. word count: 7883fem reader

-

“This is Akaashi.”

Back when your parents told you they’d be hiring a new gardener, you’d expected someone just as old as your last one. It appeared they’d managed to find a college student who was the same age as you instead.

“You can call me Keiji, if you want to.”

And it was weird - your parents quickly accepted the boy into your family. You recall feeling as though they expected the two of you to develop a relationship resembling something like siblings.

But after two months of him working for your family, you’d done nothing but embarrass yourself in front of him.

Even the other morning, you’d walked into the kitchen wearing what you’d slept in - a t-shirt and your underwear - toothbrush in mouth, bedhead out in full force, just about to grab a bottle of water from the fridge when you noticed: the boy was standing at the sink washing his hands, eyeing you with vague amusement. You remember gratefully noting that he didn’t glance down to your lower half.

How polite.

The snicker he gave you wasn’t very polite, though.

“Good morning,” he said, “sleeping beauty.”

You pulled your toothbrush from your mouth with a scoff.

“It’s not that late,” you mumbled, grabbing the bottle and beating a hasty retreat to your room.

—

Akaashi ended up doing more than just gardening work; observing his competence and willingness to do just about any task they could come up with, your parents immediately decided the entire house needed some work done. And there was no job Akaashi couldn’t do! He built shelves, painted walls, repaired fences - you’d even seen him under the hood of your dad’s car. He added these uncomplainingly to his main tasks of mowing the lawn, tending to the flower beds and bushes, weeding and re-potting, and occasionally working on the garden furniture. It was a wonder he had any time for school.

You stare at him now; he’d just knocked on your door, pulling you out of a deep Youtube video hole, and greeted you with, “I’m supposed to take down your curtains.”

“…what?” You glance back at your window confusedly.

“Your curtains - I’m supposed to take them down. And put these new ones up.”

“Oh.” You’d assumed your dad would change your curtains, but at this point it’s a given he’d get Akaashi to do it. “Uh… sure, okay.”

You settle back into your bed while he brings a step stool and a few tools in. The silence as he works is awkward, even tense, and it doesn’t seem like Akaashi’s going to break it - you decide you’ll have to do it.

“So, do you only own dark blue t-shirts?”

“Do you own pants?”

Damn. You’d hoped all those times you’d walked around in just your underwear had gone unnoticed by him.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” you shoot back, trying to mask your embarrassment. “You know, I used to be able to roam freely before my parents adopted you.”

He snorts. “Adopted?”

You sit up to get a better look at him. “What, you don’t feel like they’ve adopted you?”

“Considering I go home at the end of the day, no.”

“That’s the next step, Keiji - we have a spare room!”

He chuckles, instantly lightening the tense atmosphere. You realise this is the first time you’ve seen him smile genuinely and not just out of politeness - the old curtains are now down and the golden sunlight shines on his face, enhancing his features softly. For some reason you can’t take your eyes off him.

“I don’t think my own parents would appreciate me getting a new family.”

“I guess that’s true,” you laugh. “What do you have left to do today?”

His tongue sticks out just a bit as he focuses on twisting a screw into the wall. “Mow the lawn.”

“Perfect excuse to make lemonade then, don’t you think?”

Akaashi takes a step back to judge his work. The curtains are up, they’re even, and they look nice.

“Cliche,” he says, looking over to you. “But I agree.”

—

The summer sun is hot. Much hotter than you remember it being last year. And the best place to get away from that heat? Your air conditioned bedroom, obviously.

Your mom isn’t inclined to agree, though.

“Why don’t you get out of bed?”

“Mom…”

“Y/N, you’ve had two weeks of summer break and you’ve spent the whole time cooped up in this room. Your father is worried sick!”

You groan again. “I’m relaxing!”

“Well, you need to get some sun,” your mother continues. “Akaashi is outside painting the fence. I told him you’d be joining him. Get going!”

She leaves your bedroom with a huff, and you force yourself to roll out of bed. You put on appropriate clothes for painting and head to the backyard.

Akaashi’s wearing his trademarked blue t-shirt, paint supplies on a tarp next to him.

“Nice to see you out of that cave,” he says without looking at you.

You roll your eyes in response, crossing your arms and waiting for him to give you instructions.

“You actually want to help?”

“I don’t think I have a choice,” you reply, turning around to see your mother watching you from inside the house. You wave at her dramatically, and she waves back before walking away from the window.

He kneels down to prepare the paint. “I’ve already cleaned it and applied a primer,” he tells you. “So we can start painting now.”

You’re not sure what primer is for, but the quicker you finish painting, the quicker you can get out of this heat - you’re not going to bother asking.

He hands you a large brush and a tin can of white paint, and then walks away.

“Is that it?”

He laughs. “It isn’t rocket science! Just start painting!”

As it turns out, Akaashi had way too much faith in you. You’ve only finished painting about a third of the fence when he stands next to you, having already finished the other two thirds.

“Someone likes to take their time,” he says, painting the last panel.

“You’re just too fast!”

“You didn’t have to be so meticulous.” He takes the paint brush and can from you. “But thanks for the help.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before we started?”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

“Hey, it looks good!”

Both of you turn around to find your mother judging the paint job.

“How did she do, Keiji? Be honest!”

The boy looks over at you with a smile. “She didn’t do half bad. It was nice having company.”

“She’ll have to help out more often.”

After that, your parents jump at any chance to have you help Akaashi with his work. Without giving you payment, of course.

“You could learn a lot from the boy,” your dad says later on. “You need to learn how to do some hard work.”

“I think we managed to hire a trustworthy boy,” your mother chimes in.

“He can teach you about taking care of yourself. At least until you find a man like him to do it all. Someone with deeper pockets, hopefully.”

For some reason you’re really not a fan of the tone of voice your father uses, but at the same time you don’t really know what he means by it. Rather than being offended for Akaashi’s sake, you continue the conversation.

“Can’t I just hire someone like you guys?”

After a moment of thought, your mom speaks up. “Of course that’s an option! Maybe Keiji will even be around to work for you.”

You nod, not really knowing how to reply. You couldn’t genuinely see Akaashi working for you - but maybe working the whole summer with him wouldn’t be so bad, if it meant getting to know him better.

—

A knock on the front door pulls you out of the movie you were watching. When you answer, you find a familiar face.

“Is your dad home?”

You shake your head. “No, he’s having a late night at work. Won’t be back until early in the morning.”

“What about your mom?”

“On a trip,” you reply, bringing Akaashi inside.

“Well, do you have any idea why your dad called me here, then?”

“Oh, probably for me, sorry.”

His brows furrow, and the smile you sent him only confuses him more.

“My bathtub’s drain was clogged, but I told him I’d figure it out myself. I guess he didn’t trust my plumbing skills.”

“Did you fix it?”

“I…tried!”

He sighs. “Which bathroom?”

“The one in my room…”

You have no idea how he plans to fix the clog with no tools, but you don’t stop him as he makes his way to the bathroom. You sit at the kitchen table and wait for him to come back.

It takes much less time than you expected, and he’s drying his hands with a towel when he walks into the kitchen.

“Did you fix it?!”

He nods, wiping his brow. “Maybe I should’ve used that as a teachable moment for you.”

“No thanks. I never want to look at a drain again - I tried looking up instructions, but nothing would work. I tried for at least thirty minutes!”

“It isn’t that hard,” he replies under his breath. He sits across the table from you. “What are you doing home anyway? Don’t you have friends to keep you company? You know, instead of your gardener.”

“Are you implying I told my dad to invite you here on purpose?”

“A clogged drain isn’t that dire, but your dad definitely made it out to be.”

“Whatever,” you scoff. “I was going to make dinner, and since you’re here, you can help.”

“I’m a gardener, not a chef.”

You stand and begin pulling ingredients out of the fridge. “That’s what recipes are for - I won’t let you mess anything up, don’t worry.”

“Fine - don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Thirty minutes later the entire kitchen was filled with smoke.

“How did you burn rice?!”

“I don’t know - all I did was pour it into the pot!”

“With or without water?”

“…shit.”

—

Akaashi was hopeful that when fall came around, it’d mean less work. He was very mistaken. You’d even told him, “knowing my dad, he’ll find something for you to do.”

And the man did. For a month, Akaashi had to rake leaves once a week - which included cleaning the gutters - and when he wasn’t doing that, he was cleaning old tools that had been in your garage for years.

The first day he does the raking you watch him through the living room window in agony, waiting for him to get a big pile collected.

And as soon as he turns his back…

Your giggles were the only warning he had before he saw leaves go flying.

“My dad told me to help, so I thought I’d give you more work!”

“Y/N,” he says with a groan, but your laughter forces him to laugh with you. “That took half an hour!”

“I’ll rake them again! Help me up.”

He grabs your hand - only to be pulled down into the remaining leaf pile beside you, making you laugh even harder when he groans.

“Isn’t it fun?”

“I haven’t done this since I was a kid,” he says. But you notice that as he stands up and pulls you with him, he doesn’t deny it. “Once I jumped in a pile of leaves my dad was raking, and he was so pissed,” he admits with a laugh, looking happy at the memory.

“Did you have to rake them up after that, like I have to?”

He answers by handing you a rake. “I had to rake them for the rest of the season. For everyone in our neighborhood.”

“God, that must’ve sucked.”

“It paid well,” he replies. “I was able to buy my parents Christmas gifts that year because of it.”

“That’s sweet, Keiji.”

“Enough ass kissing, get to work.”

He walks away while you scoff, leaving you alone to rake up the mess you made - but you both have smiles on your faces.

—

As winter approached, Akaashi was spending even more of his time with you when he was meant to be working. You’d call him into your room for his opinion on an outfit or make him stay an hour longer so he could have lunch with you; you even often texted each other. Your friendship flourished, and the two of you felt more than comfortable around each other now - a stark comparison to nearly six months ago.

He was at your home every Monday and some Thursdays ready to work, without fail. They quickly became your favorite days of the week.

This Monday the wind was roaring outside as you curled up on the couch, fireplace ablaze to keep you warm. You were sure Akaashi wouldn’t come today - the last time you looked outside everything was covered in snow, even parts of the road - so when the doorbell rings it makes you jump a little.

You open the door, knowing Akaashi would be on the other side. “You’re late!” you say before hurrying back to your spot on the couch.

He pulls his beanie off, letting his messy hair free. “I know - the snow was getting bad. Had to shovel my driveway.”

“Tardiness is unacceptable, Akaashi.”

He scoffs at you. “Tardiness is next to godliness -”

“That’s timeliness.”

Your dad walks into the room from the kitchen, interrupting your conversation. “Akaashi, what’re you doing here?”

“Wasn’t I supposed to work on something in the attic today, or… something?”

He takes off his scarf as he speaks, and you stare at his rosy cheeks. His skin must’ve been flushed from the cold - you think he looks absolutely precious.

He catches you staring at him, but you didn’t look away. Before you probably would’ve been embarrassed to be caught eyeing the boy, but now you were looking forward to him teasing you for it.

“Well, yeah, but have you seen the weather? I didn’t think you’d bother showing up.”

Of course he’d seen the weather - but he also hadn’t seen you in a week. And for some reason, he missed you - so he made a point to get to work today.

“I appreciate the work. Especially since the holidays are coming up.”

“Alright…” your dad says with an understanding sigh. “Come on, then.”

You assume your dad leads him to the attic. Before walking away, Akaashi pulls his hoodie off, giving you a good view of his toned stomach when his shirt raises up. And instead of hanging it on the coat rack, he throws it at you with a smirk.

“Hey!”

“It’s to keep you warm!” he laughs before quickly catching up with his boss.

You don’t see him again until you’re having dinner. Your mother invites him to stay and eat, and when he sits across from you, you make sure to give his leg a playful kick.

“Shouldn’t you write Keiji up for being late today, bossman?”

“I had an excuse,” the boy argues.

“But you were a good four hours late.”

Keiji finally kicks your leg back, rolling his eyes.

“At least I showed up at all,” he replies. He looks down at his watch and half-gasps at the time. “I should get home, though - thank you for the meal.”

He stands up and your mother follows him. “Are you sure the roads are safe?” Nobody responds as she walks over to a window, seeing nothing but thick snow falling from the evening sky. “The road’s completely covered! I don’t want you driving in this weather. You should stay here for the night.”

“Keiji, we get to have a sleepover,” you tease.

“I couldn’t impose -”

“I insist,” your mom says. “You can sleep in the living room. Help him feel at home, Y/N.”

“Sure,” you reply. You would’ve given a sassier reply just to tease Akaashi even more, but you were busy wondering about his worried expression.

“Maybe the snow will lighten up soon,” he says.

“I doubt it,” your father says to him. The man stands and puts a hand on Akaashi’s shoulder. “Just stay here until the morning, don’t bother risking the drive. Y/N, don’t pester him too much.”

“I’ll try.”

After wishing you goodnight, your parents head off to their bedroom for bed.

“Do you want me to get the futon out for you?”

“If you don’t mind,” Akaashi says as he pulls out his cell phone. With a sigh, he continues. “My brother is going to be pissed.”

“You have a brother?” you ask, making your way to the closet where the futon and blankets are stored.

“Yeah, he’s 7.”

You had known Akaashi for what felt like a long time, and you thought you knew him well. But even after all this time, and after learning so much about him, you knew almost nothing about his home life.

Wanting to know more, you ask, “what’s his name?”

You turn your head to find him with his phone pressed to his ear.

“Hey, can you put Koichi on? Yeah, thanks.”

You turn back and focus on setting up his futon in the middle of the living room, but you can’t help overhearing his phone call since he’s only standing in the doorway.

“Hey, kid. I know I was supposed to be home before it got dark, but… no, playing in the snow is going to have to wait until tomorrow… I know I promised, but I have to stay here - no, the roads aren’t safe to drive…”

You find yourself feeling very curious about what Akaashi’s brother is like, what their relationship is like; you just want to sit and talk to him about his life and family, learning everything about him. But you’re sure he’d feel uncomfortable with that. It’d probably feel more like an interrogation to him.

It does seem unfair though. He knew virtually everything about you and your family. Would you have to become his handyman in order to learn more about him?

“Hey, you didn’t have to do all that for me.”

You look up and see he’s now back in the living room with you, phone call completed. You were already done setting up his futon as well as spreading out the bedspread.

“It’s fine!” you say. “I’ll get you an extra blanket, too.”

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“No problem, Keiji.”

You get the blanket for him and decide to turn in early, heading back up to your room with a cheerful ‘good night’.

When you wake up, the first thing you think is how cold you are. It’s unbearable; you curl your limbs into your body, pull your blanket up to your chin, but it’s no use. It feels like the blanket is only making you colder.

You open your eyes to check the time; you expect to see the sun shining through your window, but it’s still dark out. You click your phone on and are surprised to find that it’s only 1 am - and also that your phone isn’t charging, even though it’s plugged in.

You switch your bedside lamp on: nothing.

“Huh.”

The snow must have knocked the power out. That would explain your room’s temperature.

There’s no way you can fall asleep in your cold bedroom, so using your phone as a flashlight, you make your way to the living room, with thoughts of the fireplace and a certain boy and the warmth both of them can offer.

You’re excited to see Akaashi already has a fire burning in the fireplace, and he’s sat up in the futon, the hood of his hoodie pulled up over his head.

“Keiji,” you whisper before sitting next to him. “I need warmth!”

“You’re in the right place, then.”

You sit down next to him in front of the fireplace, sitting much closer to him than you first intended.

“You’re shivering,” he says with a laugh, pushing his hood down. “Are you really that cold?”

You nod, pulling your knees up to your chest and hugging them close.

“Here,” Akaashi says, pulling his hoodie off and handing it to you. “It’s warm.”

“Won’t you be cold?” you ask, pulling the sweatshirt on. You immediately feel warmer, and the scent of Akaashi’s cologne quickly takes over your senses.

He shakes his head. “Not if I’m under a blanket,” he says as he scoots up, getting under the two large blankets. “Do you want to lay down with me?”

Instead of answering, you just crawl over to him. He holds the blanket up for you, inviting you under, and you gratefully accept.

“Do you feel better?” Akaashi asks after you get comfortable.

“I’m so warm,” you say, almost in disbelief. You open your eyes and give him a wide, content smile. “Are you warm?”

He nods. You’re sharing a pillow; his face is quite close to yours. But not uncomfortably close. You like laying next to him like this.

“…are you still worried about your brother?”

“A little,” he says with an awkward laugh. “He wanted to play in the snow together.”

“He’ll be okay, I’m sure,” you say before yawning. “I didn’t know you even had a brother. Does he look like you?”

Akaashi smiles. “Basically identical.”

“I’d love to meet him.”

Your eyes are closed now, and you can feel yourself falling asleep, but you try to hold it back.

“I’d like that,” Akaashi replies, and his voice is much quieter than it was before.

He closes his eyes too, but he’s nowhere near falling asleep. He isn’t even tired. How could he manage to fall asleep while you’re laying right next to him?

So he opens his eyes again, and lets himself look at you. The fire lights up the room with an orange glow, gently cascading on your face. And he’s gone; his heart is beating fast, he’s smiling for no reason, his entire body feels warm - and he’s sure it isn’t because of the fire.

He wants you to wake up. He wants you to look at him like he’s looking at you. He wants to keep talking to you, to tell you everything about himself.

But at the same time, he loves how peaceful you look. He never thought he’d get the chance to see you sleeping - and he kind of feels like a creep for watching you, but he figures that just this once, it’s okay. After all, you did crawl into bed beside him.

You snuggle into the pillow and your hair falls into your face, and Akaashi takes a chance and brushes it away. His touch is soft, he’s sure, but when he pulls his hand away your eyes slowly open.

“Are you cold?”

He shakes his head, but you scoot closer to him anyway.

“I can keep you warm,” you say softly, wrapping your arm around his waist and pressing your face against the top of his chest. “I haven’t cuddled in so long…”

“Me neither,” he replies. He’s trying to relax, because he’s sure you can feel how tense he is.

“Then we should cuddle more often.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

He swears he’s going to pass out, because he’s holding his breath and his heart is beating so fast and his mind is racing.

He’s not sure if this is appropriate - in fact, he knows it isn’t. He feels dizzy just thinking about what your father - his boss - would say if he knew the two of you were here in each other’s arms.

But maybe that doesn’t matter for now, and maybe he could get away with doing this just once.

So he relaxes and he breathes and he closes his eyes, but he doesn’t fall asleep for a while - he has to keep an eye on the fireplace, anyway. He lays there with your body pressed against his, your arms wrapped around him, for what’s probably hours. And he’s never felt more comfortable.

—

Even though it wasn’t his intention, cuddling together turns out to be more than a one-time thing.

For the rest of the winter you made a habit of inviting him to your room, always to keep you warm. And he never really had any complaints until the day you expressed that you want to do more with him.

It was overwhelming. So much so that after you had that conversation with him, he had to avoid you. It was hard to avoid someone who lived in the house he worked in, though, so his attempts were unsuccessful.

One day he’s in the kitchen washing his hands when you come into the room and pull him out into the hall.

“What’s up?” he asks as you lead him around the corner, holding his hand behind you. “I’m not done working -”

You stop and turn to him, leaning against the wall behind you. You pull him closer and take a deep breath, remembering the conversation the two of you had a few days ago, when you expressed your feelings and told him how badly you wanted to be closer to him - and when he told you he feels the same way.

“You already know.”

He tries his best to hold back his reaction. He knows what you mean. But still, he shakes his head.

“I want you to… kiss me.”

He’s avoiding eye contact with you now, and you squeeze his hand. He doesn’t squeeze back.

“What?”

“Don’t you want to?” you ask. He doesn’t reply. “Keiji…”

For the first time that evening, he looks at you in the eye. “Don’t… say my name like that.”

“Why not?”

Blue eyes bore into yours. You know he’s trying hard to keep that exasperated look on his face. You’re trying hard to swallow the lump forming in your throat. Had he lied when he said he wanted you too?

“Keiji… you said you want to.”

His eyes close, his hand squeezes yours tight.

“I can’t,” he says, shaking his head. “If your parents found out -”

“No one has to know.”

“They’ll know,” he replies.

“One kiss,” you say, looking at his lips. The curiosity was eating away at you now. “It’s harmless.”

Akaashi knows that isn’t true. And if you genuinely believe that then his feelings are already hurt. Because this isn’t harmless - especially if it really is just one kiss.

You’d spent the last few months being forbidden fucking fruit - one taste wouldn’t be enough for him. He knows that. You should too.

So he shakes his head again, letting out a breath that sounds like a groan, and he keeps his eyes squeezed shut so he doesn’t have to look at your tantalizing lips again.

“I… I can’t.”

Being rejected isn’t something you expected to happen. So you look down to your feet. You drop Akaashi’s hand. After getting used to your touch, he misses the feeling already.

“Okay…” you reply. It’s hard to speak to him now, knowing that he didn’t mean what he said before, and you’re embarrassed.

You know your next words will sound pathetic, but you can’t hold them back. “If you… change your mind, you know where to find me, I guess.”

And then you walk away, knowing both of you would regret your actions that day.

—

After that, the two of you were back to square one. You remember feeling as if the last few months hadn’t even happened - you stopped talking, you stopped cuddling, you even stopped looking at each other.

It was hard for both of you. Akaashi was convinced that after he rejected you, you started purposefully walking around the house scantily clad even more than before. It’d been two weeks since then, and it was driving him fucking crazy.

He could deal with it, though.

That day, however - that day was the last straw.

He’d walked into your house - at this point, your parents had told him to just let himself in. And the sight he walked in on was something he’d never get out of his head.

You were on the couch…and you weren’t alone. You were lying with someone else on top of you, your lips attached to his. To make it worse, it was a guy Akaashi was sure he recognized from his high school volleyball days.

It was like walking in on a car crash. His heart sank into his stomach, it felt like he was going to throw up, he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to pull his hair out, he wanted to yell, to cry. But all he could think to do was run out. He forgot about the job he was meant to be doing today.

And then he sat alone in his car for awhile.

He hoped you got what you wanted - because he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to walk into that house again.

—

“Long time no see,” you mumble when you walk into the kitchen. You see him stiffen at the sound of your voice.

Akaashi had taken a two week “vacation”, according to your dad, but you knew the real reason he’d stayed away.

“Wonder why,” he replies, his sarcastic tone matching yours. He definitely wasn’t happy to be speaking to you.

“Yeah,” you say. “I wonder.”

Akaashi can’t take it anymore. Not only is your tone absolutely unbearable, but the way you’d been treating him - even before he caught you with another guy - was nothing but disrespectful.

“Do you get off on hurting my feelings or something?”

“What -”

“You know what you’re doing. Don’t act innocent.”

He turns to look at you, clearly feeling confident. You don’t feel the same.

“I didn’t mean for you to walk in…”

“We both know that’s bullshit -”

“No it isn’t.”

After a beat of silence, Akaashi asks a question that he’s been dying to ask for two weeks now. “What, is he your boyfriend or something?”

“No.”

The truth is you did hate yourself for being caught like that, if only because you were sorry it hurt Akaashi to see it.

“You don’t want to kiss me. But he did. So I kissed him.”

That had been a bad choice - you knew it the moment you invited the boy over. It wasn’t helpful to anyone, particularly the guy whom you had no feelings for.

“And I don’t understand why you’re so upset when you never wanted me in the first place -”

“I wanted to kiss you!”

“Then why didn’t you?!” You know you shouldn’t raise your voice, but Akaashi doesn’t seem fazed by it.

“Because I could lose my job! And I wouldn’t be able to stop myself - it wouldn’t just be one kiss, but you don’t - you don’t understand that!”

You take a while to reply. Akaashi takes that chance to look away from you, to run a hand through his hair, to realize what the fuck he just said.

“What if I don’t want you to stop?”

“Don’t say that.”

“I still want to kiss you, Keiji!” you say loudly, glad your parents are at work. “Even after you rejected me - and you can do it again! I don’t care!”

Then kiss me - he’s so close to saying it. But he can’t open his mouth.

“I’m going to my room. Go do your work -”

“Wait -”

You stop in your tracks and wait for him to continue.

“If I lose my job for this -”

“You won’t.”

He walks closer to you, ignoring what you said. “If I lose my job for this, you’re buying my brother’s birthday presents.”

“You aren’t going to get fired, unless you’re a bad kisser and I make my dad fire you so I never have to see you again.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do you want me to kiss you or not?”

You don’t bother replying, because Akaashi puts his hands on each side of your face. He pulls you close, but he goes slow, as if he’s working up the courage to do it.

“Is this your first kiss?”

“Shut up.”

And then he kisses you - it’s sweet and soft and gentle, and while you expected all of those things, fireworks don’t fly like you thought they would. You don’t feel sparks of electricity across your whole body. Maybe it’s because it’s not rushed, or because it isn’t spontaneous.

But the way his hands are holding your face feel perfect. His thumb grazes your skin carefully, and his hands are gentle despite being rough and worn from countless hours of hard work.

It doesn’t last very long; he pulls away before you can even move your lips much. And when you open your eyes, his are still closed - and he’s smiling so wide.

You know kissing is supposed to lead to more, in fact you assumed you’d be taking each other’s clothes off by now, but all you really want to do is cuddle with him for a while.

“When will you be done working?”

“I don’t know, why?”

“Because I want to take a nap.”

“We can take a nap,” he laughs.

“And I want to kiss you more.”

He nods. “I’ll kiss you more. As much as you want.”

—

You think back on the period that followed with great affection, the blessed honeymoon phase. As spring approached and the weather started to get warmer, your relationship with Akaashi blossomed along with the wild daffodils in your backyard. Even though he was nervous about your parents finding out, requesting that you keep your relationship status a secret so he wouldn’t risk losing his job, you both felt very happy with how things were going. You were comfortable with him, and he absolutely adored you.

When you informed him of your love of spring flowers he demanded you help plant some in the flowerbeds. He told you he’d plant whatever you wanted, even taking you to a flower shop so you could pick them out.

You decided on red marigolds. Akaashi planted the seeds with tender care, and you made sure to water them on the days he wasn’t working.

The two of you bonded over waiting for the flowers to bloom - you were impatient, and Akaashi was worried they wouldn’t grow.

But they did - the two of you were over the moon when they sprouted, you remember fondly, sitting on the edge of the porch with him, both looking at the flowerbed.

“I’m so excited for them to bloom,” you say.

“Me too.”

You turn your head and look at Akaashi. He gives you a small smile, and you feel your heart speed up just looking at him. He’s so cute that it hurts, but you can’t even look away from him.

But you have to; you look around, making sure no one just so happens to be looking, and then you quickly steal a kiss from him.

“What was that for?” he asks.

You shrug. “You just look cute, that’s all.”

Akaashi looks around in the same way you had, before kissing you again quickly.

“Right back at you,” he replies, before letting his hand rest on yours.

You lean your head against his shoulder and smile wide as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You flip your hand over so you could lock your fingers together.

Akaashi feels something he’d never felt before, not with anyone else or even with you, until right now. He’s so comforted by you; this moment is cozy and relaxed and tranquil and every other word like that he can think of. He wants to be with you, right there, for as long as he can.

He squeezes your hand. He wants more of this - more of you.

“Y/N,” he says quietly, and you pull back to look up at him.

He smiles again before ducking down to kiss you one more time. This one lasts longer, he kisses you hard and makes the most out of the short time before he has to pull away.

He doesn’t want to pull away at all, but he’s glad he did - because the door behind you opens right then.

“Keiji, I’m glad I caught you before you left -”

Your mom is none the wiser, or at least it seems so. Akaashi pulls away from you quickly, praying she didn’t see anything.

“We’re having a little neighborhood get-together tomorrow here at noon, and I thought it’d be fun for you to come!”

He nods, looking back at her. “Sure, I’ll be there.”

“Great! Oh and Y/N, the neighbor’s son is home for spring break and we’ve invited him too. You’ll have to wear something nice.”

You nod in response and Akaashi stands. “Well, I’ll see you guys tomorrow. I better get going.”

With that he walks to his car, and you stand to face your mom.

“What were you two doing?” she asks.

You shrug. “Just talking.”

“He’s a nice boy,” she says with a knowing smile. “But, you know, the Kindaichi’s son has been away at university at Cornell. You know, your father’s old alma mater. And he’s on the road to joining your father’s company.”

“That’s nice,” you hum, trying your best to avoid the conversation altogether.

“I’m just saying, that’s the kind of man your father and I want for you. So we think you should give Yutaro a chance, okay?”

You simply nod along as she speaks, trying not to blow your cover and expose your and Akaashi’s relationship. This appears to be good enough for her as she retreats back inside soon after, leaving you to ponder.

You aren’t thinking about your future or what kind of man you want for yourself right now. At this point, the only thing you know is that you want to date Akaashi - even if your parents don’t approve. Their opinion of Akaashi isn’t really clear to you, but what you do know is that in some way, they judge his home life.

He doesn’t share much of it with you, but you know his life isn’t easy. He doesn’t have much, and everything he does have is the product of hard work. He definitely isn’t away at a prestigious school and there would be no well-paying suit-and-tie job waiting for him in a few years, either, no handy contacts to help slide him into a junior partner position at a family friend’s company.

But do those facts make him less desirable than someone with more money in their pockets?

You know your parents have good intentions, they mean well, they only ever wanted the best for you. But to you, the best has never meant smart or rich - the best always meant down to earth, caring, personable, supportive and encouraging. Akaashi is all of that plus more.

Even so, you know you have to put on a show for your parents’ sake - or rather, for Akaashi’s sake.

And the next day, that’s exactly what you do.

You aren’t able to talk to Akaashi much at the party because your parents are too busy basically trying to sell you to the Kindaichi’s, but after about an hour or so you’re able to get away from them. You grab Akaashi and make a break for it, trying your best not to get spotted.

You bring Akaashi around to the front porch and sit in the same places you sat the day before.

“This is the worst,” you say, covering your face with both hands.

“At least you look nice.”

You sigh. “Mom forced me to wear this dress. Apparently red is Cornell’s school color or something.”

“He really goes to Cornell?”

“Yeah. And it definitely shows in his bland as fuck personality.”

Akaashi nods. “Are you considering…”

“What do you mean?” You look over at him. “Not in a million years. I don’t care how much money he has.”

“Your parents seem to like him, though.”

“Well, we both know who I like. And he doesn’t go to Cornell. And I’m going to tell them that.”

“You’re what?”

“Y/N - there you are, I’ve been looking all over. Aren’t you going to tell Yutaro goodbye?”

You turn and look at your dad. “Do I have to?”

“You need to make a good first impression -”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.”

When your dad reluctantly walks away, Akaashi grabs your arm.

“You can’t tell them -”

“Why not? You’re great at what you do, if they fire you then you can get a job almost anywhere else - and if they don’t approve, I don’t care.”

“Y/N -”

“Keiji, I want to take us more seriously.”

Akaashi closes his eyes and shakes his head. And you don’t want to stress him out with this - you know he already has a lot going on.

But if he doesn’t want to tell them now, will he ever? Will he choose to keep your relationship a secret forever? And will you always have to settle for it?

You don’t know - nor do you really have the time to think about it right now.

“Okay. Sorry. I won’t tell them anything.”

With that, you get up and go back to the backyard where your parents are waiting expectantly. Akaashi isn’t far behind you.

He’d been feeling awkward the entire party. And having to watch you, dressed up nicely for another guy, faking interest and forcing smiles - it just makes him feel shit, especially because if he could just get over his fears of judgement then you wouldn’t have to deal with this stupid charade.

But he also has to admit to an even more powerful emotion: he’s jealous. He realizes that he wants to be the guy your parents are rooting for, he wants to be the one they believe could take care of their daughter, he wants to be the one you dress up for. But he doesn’t even know if his community college had school colors. And he does know that your parents would never accept him as a match for their daughter.

But he’ll be damned if he’s gonna lose you to some goofy-looking guy whose most interesting characteristic is that they go to a prestigious school - and just watching the boy awkwardly trying to touch your shoulder pisses him off. Can’t he see you shying away?

‘Cornell’ tries again; Akaashi sees you flinch.

That does it.

“It’d be a nice day for a drive, don’t you think?” he hears as he approaches you both.

“…yeah, sure,” you reply, brushing your hair behind your ear. You aren’t even making eye contact with the guy - Ivy League apparently isn’t smart enough to take the hint.

Once he’s close enough, Akaashi puts his hand on the small of your back. “Hey, Y/N.”

You send him a grateful look for the interruption, but the guy in front of you only looks annoyed.

“Excuse me - who are you? I don’t think we were introduced.”

The guy’s fake politeness only added fuel to the fire.

“Akaashi.”

“You can call me Kindaichi - or Yutaro.”

He holds his hand out, and Akaashi doesn’t shake it.

“Look, no offense, but I don’t think my girlfriend is all that interested. Try not being so oblivious.”

With that, he takes your hand and leads you away over to the empty patio.

“Were you jealous, Keiji?”

“Shut up.”

“Just admit it!” you laugh.

He rolls his eyes and refuses to admit anything - even though he knows you’re right.

You tug on his hand; he turns and looks at you slowly. You see the exhilaration mixed with anxiety in his eyes. It matches what you feel in your heart.

“That’s the first person we’ve told about our relationship, by the way.”

–

Later that night, Akaashi texts you and tells you he’s done keeping things secret - he’s ready to be more serious about the relationship, too. You agree to tell your parents the next morning.

Akaashi proceeds to demand that you call him when you’re finished with the conversation; when you do finally call him, he spends at least two minutes anxiously asking questions - you can’t get a word in.

“…are they disappointed? Do they want you to date someone better? With more money? Shit - do I even still have a job?”

“Do you want an answer, or do you just want to keep asking questions?”

His answer is a sigh, and there’s a long silence before you tell him how things went.

“…you know they already knew?”

“They… what?”

“We didn’t do a good job at hiding things, apparently,” you laugh. “And they both talked it over last night, and they agree you’re probably better for me than anyone else.”

“You mean I was worried for nothing?”

“Yeah, babe. Oh, also, dad says you have a lot of yard work to do Thursday, so you should get here early.”

“Sure.”

“Wait - get here extra early, and we can have breakfast together.”

He snorts. “By early, you mean noon, right? I know you like getting your sleep -”

“Shut up!”

—

That Thursday, you wait impatiently for your boyfriend to arrive - you stand at the door to keep a look-out for him. When you see his car pull into your driveway, you quickly run outside.

“Keiji, they bloomed!”

“The flowers we planted?”

“Yeah, come on, you have to see them!”

You pull him around the house to the flowerbeds, where dozens of red and orange marigolds are freshly bloomed.

“You were worried about them for nothing,” you say. “Growing flowers is easy.”

“We all know I worry too much, you don’t have to bring it up anymore.”

His words make both of you laugh, and you stand there together looking at the flowers for a while.

“Aren’t they pretty?”

“They are,” he replies. Standing behind you, he wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder so he can still see the flowers.

“What should we plant next year?”

“Hm… something bigger. A bush, maybe?”

You nod in agreement before leading him back inside to have breakfast - your parents will be joining you, after which he’ll get on with his chores for the day. He’s surprised at how comfortable he feels around your parents, how nothing feels different. He was worried for nothing - he’d have to remember to stop worrying so much.

But next year, when the two of you plant rose bushes, he can’t stop worrying about whether they’d bloom or not - they took a while, much longer than the marigolds. But all that worrying was worth it for the day he came over to find you sat on the porch, holding a red rose.

“I think all your worrying helps them grow.”

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes he replies, “I think you’re right. For once, anyways.”

He decides marigolds are easier, though. And that’s what you’d go with from now on. 

[regolithheart]

Love In The Time of Coronavirus: Chapter Six

Summary: One pandemic, one lake house, and two people who loathe one another. Will they be able to survive the outbreak...and each other?

MASTER LIST

Read on AO3.

---------------

CHAPTER SIX:

It was the end of the week and despite their rocky beginning, both Nesta and Cassian had made it through without causing any physical harm to one another. Much to Nesta’s surprise, they had even fallen into a daily routine with shared breakfasts, cocktails at five on the dot, and even cooking dinner together.

She had enjoyed that part of her days the most—almost looking forward to 6pm when she’d wander into the kitchen to see what they were having for dinner. It was easy to talk to Cassian when most of his attention was elsewhere and with her own small tasks to be done, she could easily ignore him if he was being too…Cassian.

Too Cassian.

Before the quarantine she would have labeled him as irritating—too full of himself and stubborn. Things came easy to Cassian: his smile, his jokes, flirting. He was at ease in every situation because he took nothing seriously whereas Nesta took everything seriously. She didn’t understand how he did it, moved through life without analyzing every minuscule detail of it. 

Before the quarantine she would have labeled him as a beautiful idiot, because yes, she couldn’t deny the fact that he was good-looking. Try as she might, even alone in her bedroom with no one else to judge her. She still couldn’t say those words, that looking at Cassian sometimes made her weak in the knees.

But that had been before the quarantine. After spending almost a whole week with him, Nesta had begun to discover other parts of Cassian. That he was an attentive listener and generous with his time. That he smiled at everything, even when it wasn’t funny. That he stuck the tip of his tongue out when he was trying to be flirty, but also subconsciously, when he was concentrating on something.

And in the span of six days, she had caught herself wondering what Cassian looked like shirtless, at least twice. Once, when she saw him lounging outside on one of the deck chairs. The rising sun had painted his face with a golden glow and she had wondered what it would have looked like, spilling across his broad shoulders. And a second time, when he had off-handedly pulled back the collar of his shirt to reveal that yes, he did in fact know what real pain was as marked by the whorls of black ink on his flesh.

Nesta had allowed herself a two second glance that had her stomach doing cartwheels. She had bit her lip hard enough to hurt and avoided his eyes for the rest of the dinner. 

Yes, Nesta still thought Cassian was brash and too loud. He didn’t know how to respect personal boundaries and made everything his business. And how on Earth he wasn’t able to sit still or in silence for ten minutes straight would always grate on Nesta’s nerves. But he was also all the other small things that she had began discovering as well, the things that made her reconsider how much she actually despised him. 

Which made her flustered for completely other reasons. 

Looking around for something to distract her, her eyes fell onto her phone. 

Perhaps she should finally give Feyre a call. She was beginning to feel guilty for not reaching out, especially because she hadn’t spoken to her baby sister since before their quarantining began. 

Glancing at her watch, she figured now was as good a time as any. 

Feyre picked up on the second ring.

“Nesta, hi. How are you?” Her voice was soft, happy.

“I wanted to check up on you. Is this a good time?”

“Yes, of course. I’m glad you called.”

Nesta could hear people talking in the background, but it had quieted down when Feyre spoke again. “How are things going with Cas—“ She cleared her throat. “How are you doing?”

Nesta scrunched her nose. She wasn’t sure why, but she had suddenly became annoyed. “Fine.”

Feyre was quiet, but when Nesta didn’t provide any further detail, she spoke again. “That’s good… all of my classes are online now… how’s work?”

Nesta shrugged even though she knew Feyre couldn’t see her. “Business as usual. Some people can’t do their jobs when they’re at work or at home.”

Feyre gave her a small chuckle. “Not everyone is as brilliant as you.” She paused a moment. “What about Cassian? Are you guys getting along?”

There it was again, that lick of irritation. “He’s fine. We’re fine. I can actually be civil, you know.”

“I know that! I was just asking. Making sure he wasn’t giving you a hard time or anything.” 

“No.” Nesta felt just a smidge bit guilty. “I mean, he’s not being any more of a pain in my ass than he usually is.” She didn’t know why she was compelled to add, “We’ve been… making dinner together. We’re also taking turns making breakfast.”

“You’re making breakfast?”

“I know how to scoop yogurt into a bowl!”

Feyre laughed. “Can’t argue with you there. You’re the best at it!” 

“Damn right, I am.”

“Do you fan out the bananas and dot the granola with raspberries for Cassian, too?”

“No. He has not proven himself worthy of banana-fanning yet.”

Feyre laughed again. “Good. Only Archerons get fanned bananas.” After a few seconds, she let out a soft sigh and her voice was gentle. “But you’re doing okay?” 

Nesta bit the inside of her cheek. It was always like Feyre to try and take care of them. Sweet, gentle, Elain, she understood, but sometimes Nesta hated the implication that she couldn’t take care of herself. 

“Yes, yes. I’m fine, Feyre.”

“Good. And Elain? Have you talked to her? I try to call but we keep missing each other.”

“I talked to her last night. She sounds bored out of her mind, but I don’t know what she expected locking herself up in an apartment with Graysen.”

“Nesta.” There was that motherly tone again.

“Tell me you disagree.”

“She loves him.”

Nesta’s only response was a derisive snort. 

When Feyre spoke again, the austerity was gone and was replaced with a hint of mischievousness that Nesta had learned to detect years ago. “I’m glad you don’t sound like you’re bored out of your mind.”

“I’ve been busy with work.”

“In a beautiful house with the best scenery?”

“It’s… tolerable.”

Feyre cackled at that. “I’ll make sure to let Rhys know that you think his house is tolerable.”

“Please, don’t. It’ll just make his head bigger. I mean come on, Feyre. Who installs a full-sized sauna in their home?”

Her sister’s giggles were starting to become contagious and Nesta smiled. “I thought that, too, but just give in to the sauna, Nesta. You won’t regret it.”

“Fine, but two Pelotons?” 

“Okay. I’ll agree with you on that one, but it’s so much nicer when we don’t have to readjust the seat every time we want to ride.” 

“Unbelievable. You know, Elain and I had to share one bike until I was ten.” 

“Yes, and I got all your hand-me-downs.” 

Nesta smirked to herself. 

“Listen, I gotta go. We’re just about to eat dinner.”

The photo of Feyre looking so happy with her new found family flashed in Nesta’s mind, making her chest feel oddly tight. “Okay. Have a good night.”

“You, too. Love ya.”

“Same.”

“Bye bye.” Feyre hung up, leaving Nesta’s room feeling even more quiet than it had before.

Wondering what to do with the rest of her day, she gave the book on her nightstand a dejected glance. 

Normally, she would have jumped at the opportunity to spend the whole day reading, but she felt restless and decided that perhaps she should make use of the Peloton and sauna downstairs. It wasn’t as though she had any other plans and it would give her a chance to work out some of her sudden listlessness. 

Silently thanking Elain for making her pack gym clothes, she changed into a matching set of stormy blue high-waisted tights and sports bra and gave herself a once over in the full-length mirror as she pulled her hair into a high pony-tail. Out of habit, she swiped her lips with her favorite mint balm before leaving the room.

The house was quiet and for a brief second, Nesta wondered were Cassian was. Again, his bedroom door was ajar and the room empty and she hadn’t heard him in the kitchen either. 

She wondered if he was stretched out on the lawn as she’d seen him before, during her work days—no doubt spying on her or more likely, trying to get on her nerves and distract her from important emails and conference calls. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that he had chosen to reposition the outdoor furniture to sit perfectly framed in the view from the office window. 

Nesta was debating whether or not she should call him out on it the next time she saw him when she entered the gym and stopped dead in her tracks. 

Standing in the middle of the room, toweling off his brow was Cassian. His t-shirt was loose and the V of the collar hung low, revealing the sculpted hardness of his chest. Muscles defined and taut in a deep bronze, glistened with sweat. The dark curling ends of his tattoo rippled as he moved—like ink gliding over water—and Nesta’s fingertips tingled.

Looking up, his finally saw her standing in the doorway. Their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity and then he spoke, breaking the spell.

“Morning, sweetheart.” He grinned, slinging his towel over his shoulder.

Nesta crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

Cassian chuckled, making it sound like she’d just told a joke instead of sending a death glare his way. 

“I’d ask if you were lost, but judging from your outfit, it doesn’t look like you’re on your way to the ball.”

Nesta watched as Cassian’s eyes dragged from her sneakers up her legs, then torso, and then… 

She turned, walking over to the stationary bikes, hoping he hadn’t caught the flush that was beginning to bloom across her chest. 

Looking at the Peloton, Nesta began to question her decision. Thinking she should switch over to the treadmill, she felt Cassian’s breath against the shell of her ear. 

“Here, let me help.”

How he had managed to sneak up behind her without her noticing was a surprise, but not as big of one as how close he had gotten. She could feel the heat radiating off of him and if she took a half-step back, there was a strong chance she wouldn’t have been able to stop herself from melting into him. 

Instead, she straightened her back and at the sudden lost of heat, knew that Cassian had widened the distance between them. Chancing a glance behind her, she saw him leaning against the treadmill. His hand gently—casually—rubbing the back of his neck.

“You need special shoes for that,” he said, jutting his chin towards the pedals. “Feyre’s are in the cabinet. You wear the same size, right?”

Nesta took her time retrieving the shoes and putting them on, anything to give her a moment to even out her breathing and collect herself. It was only the surprise of running into him that had thrown her off. 

Focus, Nesta. You’ve seen a muscled man before. 

When she got back to the bikes, Cassian was already tinkering with the levers and bolts. 

“You’re taller than Feyre. We’ll have to adjust the seat.” He held out his hand. 

Nesta swallowed, but did not let her hand slip into his. Instead, she nudged him away with her elbow to give herself some space.

Cassian chuckled. He remained standing where Nesta had pushed him, but he was still close enough for her to feel the rumble of his laughter on her skin—close enough for her to smell the salt and sweat on him.

She scowled. 

Cassian moved behind her to tug at the seat, adjusting it to align with her hip before leaning over to tighten the screw, fixing it into place. She watched as his arms flexed, the tight chords of his muscles shifting easily beneath that deep copper skin. 

She realized she had never stood this close to him before, so close that she could see a bead of sweat glide down the chiseled stone column of his neck and she hated the tightness she was feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she also couldn’t look away. 

When Cassian straightened, Nesta bristled. 

“I need you to hold your arm out so I can adjust the seat distance. Elbow at the seat front.” 

This time, Nesta did finally allow Cassian to guide her and the gentle brush of his hand at her elbow, her arm, felt oddly intimate. His palm was calloused and the scrape of it against her skin made her spine tingle. 

His hands were so big.

Nesta was reminded of where she was when Cassian told her she could get onto the bike. Eager for the distraction, she locked her shoe into the pedal and swung her leg around to the other side. Again, she felt the heat of Cassian’s body close to her skin, this time from the hand hovering just above the small of her back.

“I can handle it from here,” she said, dismissing him.

Clearing her throat, she began scrolling through the classes on the screen, not chancing a look at him.

She had already felt too vulnerable in the five minutes standing next to him and now that she was sitting on a bike, her feet locked into place, she couldn’t allow herself the possibility of toppling over, or worse, not being able to escape if he fixed her with one of his looks. 

Cassian didn’t say anything until he got to the door. Not turning back, he said, “Have fun,” before leaving.

It wasn’t until Nesta heard the door click shut that she let her shoulders sag. Expelling a deep breath, she shook out the tension in her arms, her neck. 

Scrolling through the classes, she decided a ninety minute power ride was exactly what she needed to shake the unfamiliar jitteriness that had suddenly seized her entire body. 

---------------

Cassian let his forehead rest against the wall as he released a shuttering breath. He had made it to the end of the hallway before having to stop to collect himself. Slinging his towel across the back of his neck, he grabbed both ends and tugged firmly. 

God.

He had barely made it out of there. Had surprised himself when he was able to say something that wasn’t a declaration of how much he wanted to kiss her, touch her. 

He hadn’t been expecting it, her showing up at the gym like that and in those clothes…

He had always thought she was gorgeous. She had taken his breath away the first time he had laid eyes on her and in their subsequent meetings, she’d only proven herself more and more beautiful. But today… with that thin material matching the exact color of her eyes and clinging to each and every one of her curves, he couldn’t help himself. He just had to be near her.

And so he moved—stalked in three long strides—close enough to touch her, but not daring to. 

He had half-expected her to turn around and snap at him. To claw at him with her nails and her words. And when she didn’t, and he saw the blush against the shell of her ear, exactly where his breath had been, he thought that maybe…

But her back had stiffened and so he backed away, tried to plaster on that cool exterior he could easily hide behind, not wanting to make her more uncomfortable than she had been. Of course, he was only human and when she walked off to find Feyre’s shoes, Cassian’s eyes had followed her. Followed those long legs, the curve of her backside, and the swell of her hips as they swayed. 

He had had to muster every bit of strength in his body to remain calm. And for a moment, he had considered leaving the room to escape the torture. 

But as soon as she’d come back within arm’s reach of him, he couldn’t walk away. And she had let him touch her arm. 

It had been the most chaste of touches. A past Cassian would have laughed at himself for being so modest, but it had set his hand on fire. Her skin was so soft, and for a heartbeat, he had let himself wonder if she’d let him touch her anywhere else. Her shoulder? Her neck? Those pouty lips? 

If she’d let him, he’d trace his fingertips across that delicate skin to mark her—let her know where his mouth would follow. 

Cassian groaned.

He felt foolish, like a giddy teenager touching a girl for the first time, instead of the grown man he was. One who had taken many lovers, all of whom had let him do much more than touch their elbow. 

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

They had let him—wanted him to, begged him, in fact. But Nesta… all she did was push him away and brush him off. She had glared at him and bristled at his closeness. And when he was done being useful, she had dismissed him wholly. 

Cassian had thought that she was finally beginning to thaw against him. Their interactions had become cordial, almost friendly at times. But again, she had managed to prove him wrong. 

He raked a hand through his hair, tugging hard. Then pushed himself off the wall, and headed upstairs, looking to take a very, very cold shower. 

[promptmaker]

Cloti Smut Prompts Part 2!

This is the second half of my Cloti smut prompt list. The first part of the list can be found HERE.    All Prompts came from my Fantasy Cafe Prompt list found HERE. If you are interested in any of the below prompts let me know and I will put pending by them if you wish. Crossed off prompts have been written.

29. Please, I need the distraction.              (Modern AU) Cloud comes to visit Tifa at her college. She was supposed to meet him at the front but she is not there. After no replies from texting her he decides to go straight to her dorm room. Using his own key for the room he enters and finds her studying intently with her headphones on. Tifa doesn't notice he is there. Sometimes she gets so focused that she loses all track of her surroundings. Rolling his eyes but smiling at her intense focus, he notices her tense shoulders and tight grip on her pencil. Knowing she has been overworking herself again, Cloud comes over and puts his hands on her shoulders. She jumps at first but relaxes once she sees it’s him.  He continues to rub her shoulders as she tells him what she’s been working on. He tells her she needs a break and urges her away from the school work. She reluctantly agrees and gets up to stretch. Cloud takes in her casual wear, taking note she is wearing one of his shirts. Noticing him staring she teases him and he teases her back, offering her another way to decompress from studying. She likes the sound of that and pushes him onto her bed for some fun.   (optional: Her roommate gets an eyeful when she barges in)   

3.  I can't believe we haven’t tried that before!   (I can’t believe that worked!) - Full DISCLAIMER: I have never been to New Orleans or Mardi Gras and am aware that this is a sensationalized version of it.        (Modern AU) Fresh off of a bad break up, Tifa’s friends, Jessie and Aerith, decide she needs to get out and cut loose. New Orleans is a short drive away and it just happens to be time for Mardi Gras. Tifa has never been so her friends are excited to show her the sights. Tifa is reluctant to get into the festivities at first, but booze and good friends really help her to cut loose so she decides to enjoy herself and have fun. A couple days in Tifa and Co.  are bar hopping. They are a bit tipsy and her friends decide they want to collect the beaded necklaces that are thrown to tourists.  For souvenirs of their trip. The easiest way to get them is by flashing (according to her friends anyway), but Tifa has been reluctant to try that.  That is  until they come across a local named Cloud who is handing out the necklaces they are looking for. Tifa is instantly attracted to him and in a drunken sper of the moment impulse, flashes him. Cloud is taken aback but is bemused by her but gives her the beads. Seeing her starting to get embarrassed at what she did, Cloud decides she is cute and offers to show her around. Tifa’s friends practically shove her at him and tell her to have fun (but to check in from time to time). Tifa sobers up a bit and the two have a good time exploring the city. When it gets late, they head to Clouds place where he offers to sleep on the couch. Remembering the purpose of this trip, Tifa tells him that that’s not necessary and the sexual tension building between them all night explodes as she leads him to bed with her.    (PENDING)

4. What if they hear us?  (Modern AU)                                                       Sick of neither of them making a move on each other, Cloud and Tifa’s friends conspire to get them together. The friends get the two to take time off and a pay to send them to a spa, not telling them that they signed them up for a couples massage.  Since it's already been paid for, Tifa and Cloud decide to go along with it. They spend the day there together getting massages together before ending up in a sauna, where they finally decide to make a move.    

5. Where did you have that hidden?  (Game or Modern AU)  Tifa and Cloud are really into role play. Lately a game they like to play involves “interrogation”.  For this game, Tifa is an AVALANCHE soldier restrained to a chair and being interrogated by Cloud playing a turk and dressed like Rude. Cloud will “integrate”  her until she gives the safe word. (Logarithmic Base 2 Ch.1)

OR

Tifa is the Turk interrogator and she is dressed as Reno. With an open shirt and goggles. Cloud is the AVALANCHE soldier but on a leash instead of restrained. Tifa leads him around the house and uses toys pulled from her cleavage to get the info she needs.       

9. Looks bigger up close.   (Modern AU)                                                    Tifa and Cloud first met in a chat room online where they became friends. After months of chatting online, they decide to give online dating a chance. Once a week they have a date through video chat and sometimes those chats lead to webcam sex. But now one of them is moving closer to the other so now real dates can happen. When the time comes to actually be physically intimate, they find that the real deal is WAY better.

10. Describe it to me. (Post-Game)                                                                While out on a delivery, Cloud is blind sided by bandits. One of them manages to hit him with a Blinding spell.  Cloud of course manages to fight them off but his vision is fading due to the spell and he has no more Recovery items on him.  He manages to walk his bike the rest of the way to Edge and someone escorts him home. There Tifa gives him Elixir but it will take time to take effect. So Tifa takes care of him until then. Runs him a bath and hops in with him to help him wash. Afterward Tifa gets him to bed and they attempt to go to sleep but Cloud is restless after the day’s events. So Tifa gets the idea to help him wear himself out. She will help him masturbate by describing things they have done and could do together.  (She gives him JOI basically)    

12. I missed your taste     (Modern AU)                                                          Tifa is a Succubus (decked out in leather) and replenishes her life force through sexual activity.  Lately she has found someone that she greatly enjoys replenishing it with, a man named Cloud. Unlike most men, Cloud is able to handle her and gives as good as he gets. One night, when she is in need of an energy boost, searches for Cloud and finds him relaxing on his rooftop apartment. When she greets him and asks if he is up for some fun he teasingly  plays hard to get.  Tifa takes it as a challenge and goes into full seductive mode and he quickly gives in.       

23.  I didn’t think that would get such a reaction out of you  (Modern or game AU)                                                                                                       Tifa works at a bunny club (a honey bee inn type place) as a bartender, server, and manager. The standard attire is a sexy bunny outfit (or whatever animal the writer prefers) and Cloud also works there as a bouncer. Due to her attire, she gets hit on a lot but it goes with the job and the tips are worth it. It also helps that Cloud keeps a watchful eye on her throughout her shift.  Whenever a customer gets too bold with her Tifa usually likes to think of a time when her and Cloud have fucked right where the rude customer is sitting.  Since Tifa is the one that closes, her and Cloud have the run of the place when its empty. Tifa also finds that although he is a professional, Cloud has a jealous streak. The more Tifa flirts or gets hit on, the more he gives it to her after hours.  Tifa’s favorite time to rile him up is on Fridays when they switch out the bunny outfits for lingerie. The more daring the outfit the better because all the extra attention is worth it just to see Cloud’s reaction when he sees her and for what he does with her after hours. 

16. I see you found my message   (Modern AU).                                     Cloud is smitten with a cute “Coffee Shop” worker named Tifa he meets in Amsterdam. To shy to talk to her, he writes down everything thinks about her in his notebook.         (Logarithmic Base Ch.2)

19. You want to do what!    (Modern or post game AU)                          Cloud and Tifa are on their honeymoon to Costa de Sol. They are staying at the resort there and are enjoying all it has to offer. One evening, while walking along the beach, they come to a blocked off section of it that was not advertised. That section is a nude beach. They give it a curious glance but don’t see anybody there. So they turn and continue their walk. But Tifa keeps thinking about it. She thinks of her friends who tease her for not being too shy to try anything daring and she thinks about how its just her and Cloud there so know one home would know. So that night in their room she suggested to Cloud that they should visit the nude beach at some point in their trip. He is not a fan of the idea at first but she tells him it could be a fun experience to reminisce about in the future and that it would be their little secret. Cloud relents and they go the next day. They get to the nude beach, still in their swimsuits but they gradually ease into it. Once they get used to the fact that no one cares, Tifa takes the plunge and strips down first before jumping into the ocean. Cloud as always, follows after her.  They enjoy the rest of their day there. Cloud notices some glances their way but doesn't care. They only have eyes for each other. Tifa decides she should reward Cloud for being a good sport (a cause she wants to) by sneaking off with him to a nearby alcove or empty lifeguard shack for some intimate fun.     

21.  Quick, while the kids are asleep!    (Game AU)                                       It has been a month since the last time Tifa and Cloud have had sex, though not for lack of trying. Between moving into a bigger place and with school done for the summer, the kids  are around a lot more now, and are constantly interrupting any intimate moments. But now is their chance. After a long day of moving furniture and setting up rooms in their new place, the kids are now tuckered out and in bed while Tifa and Cloud are enjoying the peace and quiet in their new backyard. They relax in lawn chairs by the fire pit until they make the startling discovery that there are now kids in sight and they are suddenly now full of energy. Tifa jumps Cloud in his lawn chair and a month’s worth of repressed sexual energy comes out at once. They do it with most of their clothes still on and the chair is destroyed but in the end, it is worth it.          (The gravity of falling stars)

22. Are those my boxers?    (Post Game)                                                  After the bar closes for the night, Tifa and Cloud have drinks and play cards together as they do every night. Getting tipsy, Tifa ponders whatever happened to Cloud’s dress that he wore to Corneo’s years ago. Cloud (lies) tells her it has long been destroyed. Tifa calls him on his bullshit and asks him what it would take for him to wear it again. Cloud drunkenly suggests she wear some of his clothes (A secret kink of his) and he’ll wear whatever she wants. They laugh it off and to bed.  The next night, they continue their ritual of drinks but Tifa tells Cloud she is going to get some of the good stuff from storage and disappears. When she returns, she is dressed in Cloud’s clothes (the ones from remake or whatever the writer wants). She asks him if he likes her outfit and he decides he loves the sight of her in his clothes and tells her as such. She pulls out the drinks and a deck of cards and asks him if he wants to see her out of them, So a game of strip poker commences. Who wins and how far they go is up to the writer but in the end they toss the cards aside and go at it in what little clothes they have left. When they finish Tifa once again asks Cloud where his dress is. He smirks at her and tells her he’ll get it out of storage.   

24. I am loving this new piercing  (Modern AU)                                      Cloud works in the video store or comic shop at the local mall. For the past few months he has been pining for the Tattoo artist, Tifa, in the  shop across from his. He loves to watch her work when days are slow but hasn’t had the courage to talk to her. Between her clients, the heavy metal always playing, and having several  tattoos herself, Cloud thinks he would be too overwhelmed to say anything if he did visit.  His coworker Zack reminds him that they are both getting tattoos there soon, so he will have to talk to her eventually.  Days later, Cloud and Zack are now at the tattoo parlor to get their new tattoos. This will be Cloud's first one.  He finally meets Tifa and she is way sweeter than he expected, while he gets his tattoo, he is still too nervous to talk much but he wants to say something so he blurts the first thing he can think of, that he likes her new navel piercing.  Tifa ponders out loud how he knows it was new when they have just met, Cloud about has a meltdown but Tifa just laughs it off and tells him she was teasing and that she knows he works just across the way from her. This wins him over and they become fast friends. Now he stops by her shop whenever he can to visit or to get a new tattoo or piercing. Tifa loves to tease him when she can too, whether it's giving him a look down her top as she gives him a new tattoo or lifting her skirt just enough to show him her thigh tattoo, his reactions are always worth it.  One night, as the mall closes, Cloud heads over to Tifa’s shop and helps her close up since her co-worker left early. As he helps out, Cloud makes note of Tifa’s back tattoo and asks her what it is (since the shirt covers most of it). As a reward for helping her out she tells him she’ll show him and takes him to the back room of her shop. She faces away from him and takes her top off, expecting him to be shy about it but when she looks back she sees a heated look on his face. This gets her going too as she asks if he wants a closer look and the two go at it (possibly on a spare tattoo chair). She is pleasantly surprised to learn he is not nearly as shy during sex and is happy to let him take the reins as he blows her mind. (Optional: She shows of her new tongue piercing too)   (PENDING)

26. You know me to well   (Modern AU)                                                      Tifa needs repairs done on her motorcycle, so she takes it into her favorite auto shop to be looked at by her favorite mechanic, Cloud. The two of them have been seeing each other in secret and have been trying to keep their relationship hidden from their group of friends. Cloud lets her go back into the garage with him as he works on the bike since he is the only one there at the moment. Tifa chats with him and checks out all the other bike/cars in the shop. Cloud takes a break from fixing her bike to show her a new model that has come in. Cloud shows it off and the sight of him with that motorcycle is a huge turn on for Tifa. To the point where she can’t take it anymore, Tifa makes sure his co worker Zack will be out on his lunch break for a while longer (they’ll never hear the end of it if he finds them). Cloud, noticing the state she is in, asks if she wants a “ride” on the new bike. Tifa is hesitant to defile such a nice bike so early so Cloud suggests Zack’s car that is in the shop at well. Tifa thinks thats acceptable and takes him over to go at it right on the hood.  (Perhaps leaving grease/oil stains for Zack to find later)

27.  I wanna try something from this book  (Game or modern AU)       Cloud has discovered Tifa’s hidden horde of trashy romance novels. He teases her about them at first but oddly finds some of them informative after looking through them. Never being that adventurous in the bedroom before, Cloud asks Tifa if they can try some of the things they do in the books. Tifa is more than willing to try anything with him. The books inspire them to try new positions and role-play. Their first attempts at role-play are cheesy and awkward but they get the hang of it and have fun.  But now they are much better at it.  Now they are trying out a scene from one of her books that they have been practicing for a while and even have props for it. What kind of scene is up to the writer but here is an example: Tifa and Cloud role play from a fantasy romance novel where a monster huntress falls for a werewolf and they have a secret rendezvous. Tifa is decked out in a corset “hunting” garb while Cloud has fake teeth and ears of a wolf. It's the first time he sees her in that get-up so he doesn’t even need to pretend to be ravenous for her. Tifa thinks the ears are cute and the teeth are hot. They play out the scene of a forbidden rendezvous where they both like it rough. When the scene is finished, they have a good laugh about their performance and head for the showers.