#half of this is weird because it’s late and brain won’t function right and i ran out of ideas after v

[spirirsstuff]

Y’all know those alphabet OC asks, right? Half of em are love related. Let’s make one that isn’t.

RANDOM NON-RELATIONSHIP ALPHABET ASKS

A- Accident (What’s the worst/weirdest way they’ve been injured/scarred?)

B- Birthday (What’s their ideal way to spend their birthday?)

C- Cheese (What’s their favorite type of cheese?)

D- Dogs (What’s their favorite dog breed?)

E- Egg (You give them an egg. What do they do with it?)

F- F*ck (What’s their opinion on profanity?)

G- Glitter (Do they like sparkly things? Favorite sparkly thing?)

H- Hide (Where do they go or what do they do when they’re scared?)

I- Interesting (What’s their favorite weird fact to share with people?)

J- Jukebox (Do they have a favorite song? What?)

K- King (If they were a ruler of a kingdom, what would their first order be?)

L- Lose (What’s their worst fail ever?)

M- Makeup (Do they like makeup or would they rather send it to hell?)

N- Night (What’s their favorite nighttime activity? Camping, stargazing, staying up all night doing nothing, ect.)

O- Order (What does their go-to fast food order consist of?)

P- Pizza (What are their favorite pizza toppings?)

Q- Quick (Do they walk fast or slow?)

R- Relatives (Do they live with any family? Do they have any living family members?)

S- Sleep (How terrible is their sleep schedule?)

T- Trombone (Do they play any instruments? What?)

U- Um (What’s their filler word?)

V- Victory (What’s their proudest achievement?)

W- Water (Do they like getting splashed? How about caught in the rain?)

X- eXtraterrestrial (Do they believe in aliens?)

Y- Yoop (Have they ever made up words like yoop? How are those words used?)

Z- Zany (Are they chill or off the walls crazy?)

[teaandcharchives]

Constant Ticking

Fandom: Homestuck

Pairing: Johndavekat

Word Count: 761

Rating: T (language)

Summary: Life on the new Earth C is weird, but Dave is starting to get used to it.

(part of my trans!dave series, but you don't have to read the rest to get this)

Read on AO3 Here, or read on tumblr under cut

I was cleaning up my fanfic folder and I found this. It was written in like 2018 and left to sit because I was planning to expand it, but it felt like a nice little snapshot where it was, so I just wrapped up the last chapter and am posting it now, because Homestuck is the fandom equivalent to the Hotel California. Anyway, pretend it's a late birthday present for Dave, I suppose?

I currently do not have any other snippets anywhere near this level of complete (though I have one other one that's like half done) so I'm not sure if this story will ever be updated again but, like I said, Hotel California of fandoms.

--------------------------

Time is weird as fuck here. It’s your thing, but when you got here the more broad sweeping parts changed. Hours, minutes, seconds, the lengths of time you usually hop around, are all the same. But days, months, years? On the meteor it was all arbitrary. There was no sun to say what day and night were supposed to be, so it was up to you and you kept it on Earth time down to the second. 

But here? Here shit’s different. Jade tried to get the angles right, but the planet spins too slow- It’s 25 hours each day now- and it zooms around the new sun too fast-350 of the new days, which is about 364 and a half of the old. So, like, it’s close. It’s just enough to drive you nuts. 

Well, okay, you’ve adjusted to that bit, but no one else seems to understand why you feel inclined to say “in 36 hours and 24 minutes” instead of “X time tomorrow.” That’s really what drives you nuts. So you know the age of this universe down to the millisecond, but John blindsides you when he tells you it’s your birthday. 

Well shit, you should have known, really. You were at Jade’s and Jake’s joint party up until 42.5 hours ago. 

“How old are we again?” You ask. Well, with the jumps you’re 167,270.43 hours with rounding for some uncertainty with states of limbo between dimensions when time is meaningless and beyond even your grasp. But you don’t think that kind of thing is useful for him. 

For any of them but you and Aradia. 

“Nineteen! Well, I mean, you are. I’ve got to wait four more months.” 

Two thousand seven hundred and fifty hours, your brain translates. 

Karkat throws a pillow at him because it’s the crack of dawn. 

“What the fuck, Karkat? I brought food!” 

Karkat grumbles and buries his face in your chest. You wince slightly, but you know he’s not thinking. Doesn’t mean anything. You take your pillow and carefully extract yourself from him anyway, busily telling yourself that. 

“It's too goddamn early," you inform John.

"Pfft, says you."

You shake your head sadly. “You are a broken teenager,” You say. “A broken fucking teenager.” 

He left twenty-five minutes ago. The clock said it was 6:32 new time. And it’s December. Which is a really fucking stupid thing since they decided to make the months even, so this is now month fourteen in the fucking calendar. But Quattordecember sounds even more fucking stupid. 

John sticks his tongue out at you. “Or maybe you should start learning to be a functioning adult. I mean, you won’t even have the teenage excuse a year from today!” He gives you a plate of pancakes. And as much as you want to sass him more, there’s fucking blueberries in this and you missed blueberries so fucking much. 

It’s the little things. Now you just need to get coffee figured out. Still, the sludge will do. Anything to get that precious, precious caffeine into your veins. You take an extra mug and waft it under Karkat’s nose until he perks up enough to snatch it. 

“How long until we have to go all the way to the Crockers’ place?” You ask. 

The curtains are open, and out of the corner of your eye you see Jane stop shoveling to wave good morning to you. 

John waves back ecstatically before saying, “It’s at one.” 

“And you woke us up at 7 why?!” Karkat demands. 

“I was hungry and I didn’t wanna cook twice.” 

Karkat steals one of John’s pancakes and takes a massive bite out of it. “None for you, then, asshole.” He says through his teeth. 

John just laughs and takes one of his, making sure to cover the rest of his plate in syrup so Karkat’s hands will get sticky if he tries to take anymore. Unfortunately for John, you are a little shit and you have a fork. All of the pancakes have probably been on every single plate by the time you’re done, and they’ve dripped all over the sheets. But most of it’s on John, so you still consider that a victory.

You realize you haven’t thought about time once since John came in. The clock is always ticking in the back of your mind, as it has been since you entered the game, but the sound is quieter when you’re not alone. It’s an adjustment, but as long as they're around you think you'll eventually get used to this. 

[laurentspup]

Friends... Is that what we are? (Lamen AU) Part 7.5

Masterlist

Author’s note: 

Hey it’s been so long since I updated this! It still takes a lot of me to think of dialogue and edit the messages, so this isn’t new content. It is, however, what really happened in part 7 (when Damen went to Laurent’s house and read him a book, and kissed his forehead). I always thought this was better in paragraphs than soc med format, so here it is. I actually drafted this before part 7 and I finished it now! 

I hope you all enjoy this new chapter and I promise I will be back with a new update soon. I just have to get used to driving (just passed my license a month ago), college (it’s my last year), and work (first year in person). 

Okay that was a lot, now onto this chapter full of sweetness and pining.

Part 7.5

It’s past midnight, but Laurent still has a big smile on his face since his call with Damen. It has been a few hours after Damen simply talked about his day, about his brother, about the yacht his parents bought because they had too much money and nothing more to spend it on, anything he could think of. Laurent was more than happy to sit there and listen to his voice. He liked the man too much to do anything else about it.

He is currently studying for his upcoming biology exam on Tuesday. It’s not too bad of an exam, but there are endless terms, endless body functions, and he hates that all he can do is memorize everything. It’s not learning but it does result in an A. His phone buzzes beside him, and welcoming any distraction, he picks it up to see a text from Damen. He’s downstairs.

Laurent runs to his window to check if it’s true. Damen, knowing exactly what Laurent does every time he surprises Laurent with a visit, is looking up at him, waving. Damen’s at Laurent’s door. He isn’t supposed to be home yet, back in this city, but here he is, glowing under the porch light, gorgeous in his hoodie, and everything Laurent ever wanted. He’s speaking but Laurent, shaking his head with a look of disbelief, can’t hear him. 

“Wait one sec.” He whispers with a gesture and turns around to go downstairs in a hurry. Before opening the door, he fixes his hair and assumes a relaxed position, as if his heart isn’t pounding miles a minute at the prospect of Damen outside his house, at midnight. As if this doesn’t happen almost everyday.

Once he’s face to face with Damen’s kind eyes, with the smile that can only be read as extremely happy to see him, his heart hammers harder in his chest.

“What are you doing here?” Laurent breathlessly asks him with wide eyes, confusion and excitement evident on his face, try as he might to mask it.

Damen is also breathless, though Laurent can’t think of any reason why.

“I missed you.”

It’s a punch to all the right places in Laurent’s heart. It’s something he can never say to Damen out loud, but he feels it all the same, right down to his bones. It’s something he didn’t know Damen had the nerve to say out loud to him. 

“I mean-” Damen begins and Laurent’s face twitches. Damen must have caught it because he stops. “I mean yeah. I missed you so I drove back since there’s nothing to do at my parent’s anymore. And I got you this.”

Laurent doesn’t see the Target plastic bag in Damen’s hand until he lifts it. 

“It’s from my mom. She insisted I give you a home-cooked meal since she knows you’re mostly alone nowadays. She doesn’t stop hinting at my dad that she wants to go on a European tour too, see Paris- what? Why are you smiling?”

Laurent doesn’t know he’s smiling. He tries to school his expression even though it’s too late.

“Nothing. You’re here. No- it’s just- I don’t know what I’m saying. Come in.” He quickly says the sentences after the other, making Damen laugh and his cheeks flush. “Shut up.”

“I wasn’t saying anything!” Damen enters behind him, shaking with happiness. 

Laurent leads him to the kitchen, so he can put the food in the fridge. It’s too late to eat right now and he has a few more chapters to read.

Damen gives him the plastic bag and sits on the stool by the island. He stares at Laurent as he unpacks the tupperwares, then puts it in the fridge. A comfortable silence surrounds them, but Laurent is too conscious of Damen’s stare. It’s as if he can hear the dangerous somersaults Laurent’s heart was doing. 

“You still studying tonight?” 

“Yeah. Bio’s kicking my ass.”

“I’ll stay up with you. Nik’s not home yet, anyway. He visited his parents too since he was there already.”

“You don’t have to stay up.”

“No, I want-”

“But you can stay.”

“Well, I’m staying up and you can’t stop me.” Damen is right in front of Laurent's face when he turns to face him. He steps back quickly. “Cool?”

“Do whatever you want.” Laurent replies, heart in his throat, rushing to leave the kitchen and get to his room before Damen sees his face turn dangerously red. 

**

Laurent’s head is bent, back to Damen, busy reading the last chapter for his exam. Nothing is entering his brain anymore, but he has to read all of these at least two times to store it in his brain until his test. He’s been yawning since the third paragraph, and he has a massive headache which began in the previous chapter. 

It has been two hours since Laurent started studying and let Damen just be in the background. He would hear Damen’s little laughs, gasps, or groans at whatever game he was playing on his phone. He feels Damen’s gaze on his back, conscious of him being conscious of his every move. It was a normal routine for them at three am, but somehow, today, it was more. 

Laurent yawns again. This chapter about the reproductive system is very intriguing, but exasperating. He would rather do it himself than read about it. If only the man currently on his bed knew how much he has been thinking about him and this. He sighs at the idea, then hears Damen shuffle on his bed.

“I think you need to take a break.”

“Be quiet. I’m studying.”

“Take a break, Laurent. You’ve been reading nonstop for two hours. I got so bored I started counting how much you’re yawning. It's thirty-seven by the way.”

“That’s weird. Stop staring at me while I’m studying.”

“But I like looking at you all concentrated.” 

Laurent ignores him. “Just shut up. I have five more pages to go.”

Damen stands up and takes Laurent’s book. He holds it up above his head. Laurent rolls his eyes but doesn’t stand up.

“Give it back to me right now.” He crosses his arms like a stubborn child.

“Nope. You can try to grab it though.” The real stubborn child says.

“Just because you’re half a foot taller than me, doesn’t mean I can’t reach it.”

“Bet.” 

“I’m not in the mood for your games, Damen.”

“I’m not playing. Take a break.”

“Dude, I wanna sleep too. Just let me finish.”

“Dude?” Damen says, offended. Laurent ignores his tone again. He stares at Damen with eyebrows raised, trying to be intimidating, knowing well that it won’t work on Damen. “Fine. If you go to bed I’ll give it back to you. Even if you look super sleepy.”

“I’m not sleepy.” Just as Laurent finishes the last word, he yawns. 

Damen raises his eyebrows at him. “Thirty-eight.”

“Ha ha. Give me back the book.”

“When you go to bed.”

“I’m not falling for that.”

Damen falls back on Laurent’s bed. Maybe if he offered something else, Laurent might say yes. Maybe Laurent is just tired. 

“You gotta get this book one way or another.” Damen shrugs. 

Laurent stubbornly stays on his chair, staring daggers at Damen. What the hell is his problem? He didn’t ask him to stay up with him, he told him not to!

Laurent watches Damen flip through the book, knowing he hates it because he’s going to lose his spot. Still, he notices how Damen's index finger remains on the page he’s reading. It’s sweet, but Damen still sucks for making him take a break.

“Ugh.” Annoyed, Laurent stands and goes beside his bed. “I’m here. Hand it back.” 

“I have an idea.” Damen answers, not looking at him.

“Damen.” Laurent says, getting more aggravated by the second.

“Look, your eyes are so tired right now.”

“You’re not looking at me, and I can’t see my own eyes.”

Damen ignores him. “Did you even sleep last night?”

Laurent flushes when he remembers the reason why he hasn't slept well at all yet. It’s because of this annoying, clueless brute lying on his bed and he doesn’t even know! All the hours he spends pining for him, yet this is all that ever happens to them. 

“See? You haven’t.” Damen answers, interpreting Laurent’s expression as guilt and embarrassment. “Lie down right now and close your eyes.”

“Stop telling me what to do. I have to finish studying.” 

Laurent can just take the book, but he knows Damen will pull him and force him to lie down. God, if only Damen is going to do that for other reasons, he’d have done it the moment Damen told him to go to bed.

“I’ll read it to you.” 

“You’re going to what?” Laurent asks, genuinely taken aback.

“I'm gonna read to you while you rest your eyes. Saves time. You rest while you still learn. It’s a win-win.” Damen looks at him and smiles expectantly.

“That’s stupid, Damen. It’s five pages long. And it won’t go into my brain.” Laurent is exasperated. He’s losing patience. Hell, he doesn’t even know why he’s still keeping up this conversation. He could kick out Damen anytime. This is his house.

“Yes it would. You take in everything you hear fast.” Laurent opens his mouth to spit a vicious remark but Damen talks first. “Just let me help you. Please.”

Laurent closes his eyes, trying so hard, even though he doesn’t know why, to keep calm. He equally hates and loves Damen for making him take a break and for offering to read five pages of the reproductive system. He grits his teeth because he’s going to say yes, and he’s going to hear Damen talk about sex and sex parts without knowing what it will do to Laurent.

“You’re so annoying.” Laurent sits on the bed. Damen scoots to give him space with a wide smile on his face. “Why can’t I say no to you?” 

“It’s because secretly you really like me.”

He wants to strangle Damen. He wishes he could shake him and look him in the eye and scream “YES I FUCKING DO. DO YOU LIKE ME BACK, ASSHOLE?” Fuck him. It’s true. It’s so true, but Laurent is never going to admit that… first.

“Just read. Annoying prick.” He mumbles and makes himself comfortable on the bed. He makes sure there’s at least a foot gap between him and the idiot beside him.

“You can come closer. I don't bite.” Damen says, staring at Laurent with that glint in his eye, patting the space next to him.

“So fucking bossy.” Laurent says angrily and still scoots over. He’ll get over feeling Damen’s warmth and not being in his arms instead. “If I sleep, you better wake me up or I'm killing you.” 

He huffs as his head hits the soft pillow and his eyes close. It feels good. He thinks he hasn’t closed his eyes to blink in the past hours. 

“Can’t kill me if you’re sleeping.” Damen answers with confidence, settling back on the bed. Laurent feels him move until their shoulders touch, despite the purposeful one inch gap that Laurent left so this won’t happen. Now, he’s really annoyed and conflicted. But he doesn’t move away.

“Give me back the book.” 

“Kidding!”

“Just start.”

“So fucking bossy.” Damen teases. 

Laurent opens his eyes, ready to smack Damen or kick him out or maybe kiss him too, but he opens the book and starts reading loudly. “The penis is part of the male reproductive system. See Damen’s for ref-”

“I’m pretty sure it doesn't say your-” Laurent cuts him off.

“Shh, I’m reading.”

“Read properly, then. And I’m on the top of that page, first paragraph.”

Damen hushes him again. Laurent rolls his eyes but stays quiet. When Damen begins once more, he reads what Laurent told him to. Laurent feels his heart leap at that, desperate to reach out to Damen, put his head on his shoulder and listen from there. But he keeps his hands to himself. 

As Damen reads about functions of the reproductive organs, Laurent soaks in his voice and his warmth. Maybe, this isn’t such a bad idea. He can actually focus better. His eyes don’t hurt as much now, and he can picture the words that Damen reads. His deep voice compels him to listen, and it tugs at his heartstrings at the same time. He can’t even fathom how amazing it is to have Damen read a Biology book to him. 

This can’t be just a friendly gesture, Laurent’s brain nags at him. But he quickly kicks all thoughts of more because he knows Damen. Damen has probably done this with all of his friends. He’s just a nice guy who brings Laurent food and makes him take a break and reads his book for him, and Laurent just happens to like him. There’s nothing more.

He listens to Damen flip to the next page, and shuts off the part of his brain that continues to pine for the man beside him. He’ll take this right now and he’ll think about the repercussions tomorrow. Right now, he’ll let himself feel the warmth and comfort of Damen. Right now, he’ll listen to Damen’s voice, soothing him like a lullaby.

**

Laurent opens his eyes. It’s not dark, his lights are left on, and there’s an unfamiliar warmth beside him, something he’s unaccustomed to when he wakes alone. His head is on a harder surface, not on a pillow but- 

He shifts his eyes to the left and sees Damen's clothed chest. The chest his head is resting on right now. The chest his head rested on while he slept. The chest that’s steadily falling and rising. 

He slept and somehow, he ended up on Damen’s chest. He asked to be woken up if he slept, but he should have never trusted Damen. 

Damen, annoying, clueless Damen, whose clothed chest is under his head right now. 

He wants to move away, badly, but also, he can't. Because he wants to be here too, badly. 

Physically, there were no obstacles stopping Laurent from moving away. Damen’s arms aren’t even enveloping him. Somehow, he slept without touching Laurent, probably because he knows Laurent doesn’t like to be touched without permission. God, why is Damen so?

For a few moments, he imagines this is real. That Damen is his to sleep on, to cuddle with. That if Damen wakes right now, he’ll kiss Laurent sleepily, a lazy smile spreading across his face. So he stays for a few seconds, tempted to move his arm on top of Damen's torso and snuggle closer. He wants this to be what they are. But it’s not.

Before Laurent could do anything that he can’t explain to Damen without spilling his heart open, he sighs and prepares to move away. He no longer wants to hurt and delude himself further. He doesn’t want to think of this as a mistake, but it is. Damen doesn’t feel the same way he does. Damen is his best friend and he should stay that way. 

He moves back a little, but Damen shifts. He abruptly stops moving for a second to not wake him, but Damen puts his arms on top of him and brings him closer. 

“Don’t go.” A sleepy voice whispers as a kiss is pressed on Laurent’s forehead.

Laurent freezes. He must still be dreaming. There’s no way in hell or heaven that Damen just kissed him on the forehead, asleep or not. He swallows, too afraid to look up and find out if Damen did this on purpose or in his dream. In this position, Laurent’s head is even closer to Damen’s clothed chest and he can hear his steady heartbeat, can see the rise and fall of his chest, and can determine Damen isn’t awake at all. 

Laurent is going crazy. That’s it. He needs to leave, right now, but he can't move anymore. What the fuck is Damen doing to him? What the fuck is he dreaming about? Why can’t he just tell Laurent now that he likes him too, that nothing is ever simply friendly between them?

Once more, he tries to leave the embrace but Damen hugs him tighter. 

“Don’t go.” Damen whispers again. “Laurent, I love you.”

Laurent cannot move, cannot breathe, cannot close his eyes. He’s sure now. He’s the one dreaming.  

[lluvguts]

Cool Blue ; Chapter Four

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

hold you here, my loveliest friend

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

☽ warnings: none

☽ fic masterlist

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

The air in Alberto's room was stuffy and filled with the uneasy smell of the sweat his bare skin on the sheets left after a fitful sleep. He flung an arm from the blankets to fiddle with the window latch until his sluggish muscles threw it back and open, letting fresh ocean air inside.

He opened his eyes. His face was covered by the white bedsheet like a dead man or just a boy realizing his mistakes much too late and he quickly threw that off of him, too.  With the window open and the bottom of the frame just inches from Alberto's nose, nothing stopped the sunlight streaming across his feverish skin in beams and the shadow of the white chipped frame to cast a thin shadow as relief to his sleepy eyes.

The sleep was thick in his green eyes, as he suffered through an uncomfortable dreamless night spent mostly staring at the ceiling with Luca's face burning a hole behind his eyelids.

Oh, God. Luca.

A quick glance at the nightstand was all it took. The polaroid photos were undeniably there. Their white corners, their colored reflections in the daylight. Making those feelings from the night before stir again.

"Alberto? Are you awake yet?" Massimo had his hand splayed flat to the door and knocked.

He jumped at the sound of his father's voice behind the door. Alberto cursed himself for not having a clock in his room, even though he was fervent on the opinion that they were useless and dumb and didn't look nearly as stunning as the sun overhead to tell the time. But now, with the sky streaming in and more worried knocks sounding through the thin walls, Alberto ran a hand through his hair and guessed it was nearing noon. Why hadn't Massimo woken him at dawn with Giulia, to begin the day's tasks? It wasn't like him to allow Alberto to sleep in...

Alberto rolled out from the sweaty confines of his bed and stood, wobbly, to respond.

"Uh, yeah, Papa? Sorry, was I supposed to be up earlier?" He said as he went to the door to open it for Massimo. He saw his father, fully dressed and looking hesitant while Alberto was still in his pair of thin cotton shorts and an equal expression of confusion.

Massimo swapped his worried frown for a quick smile, and affectionately ran his hand across the top of Alberto's messy curls.

"It's okay, son. I figured you, uh," His hand fell back to his side, fidgety, uneasy. "...Needed the rest."

"Yeah..." Alberto let out a high, nervous laugh. His voice was still groggy and dry from sleep, coming out sounding wrong. He coughed, only making their already thick silence even thicker, then stared up at Massimo. He desperately needed a glass of water and maybe a shirt just to top things off.

"Why don't we...uh..." Massimo tried again, searching for the right things to say in the wooden floorboards. "...Have breakfast? Go get dressed and I'll start the coffee."

"Okay," Alberto placed one of his feet behind the other, still standing there awkwardly. Wasn't it a little late for breakfast?

Machiavelli slipped through the gap in the door as Alberto closed it, unprompted, and left Massimo to get the coffee grinder. He sighed against the door frame, scooping up Machi though the cat had his protests.

"Santa Mozzarella..." He breathed, burying his sunburned nose into Machiavelli's neck. The phrase reminded him immediately of Giulia and he smiled around the cat's fur.

He carried Machi in one arm as he, in his dazed, barely awake state, yanked open dresser drawers looking for a shirt and, finding none to his liking, slammed them half-shut.

His head felt too heavy to teeter above the rest of his body, like all of the empty dreams he'd had that night were really just static filling up his brain. The cat growled at the sharp sound of the dresser, and equally at Alberto's annoyance so early in the morning.

"What am I gonna do, huh?" Alberto set the Machiavelli down on his bed and pulled on a customary tank top. Machi burrowed into his sheets, letting out all sorts of odd noises.

He growled deep as he sniffed the bed, then pawed angrily at Alberto's pillow, looking so cross at the linen for no apparent reason until it clicked.

"I know you smell him," Alberto bent down and stroked Machi's raised fur to calm him down. "I can't get it off."

The cat glared at Alberto out of the corners of his orb-like yellow eyes. He continued to paw and swipe at the pillow, hissing and huffing the whole time.

"That's Luca," Alberto kept his voice low and pointed at his bedsheets. "What you're smelling? Yeah. That's all sea monster."

Machi blinked slowly and stopped for a moment. His tail had been lashing wrinkles into the sheets but it hovered, flickering his interest. Then he returned full force to his havoc and dug his claws into the mattress.

Sighing, Alberto left the cat to destroy his bedsheets and went into the kitchen. Massimo was humming gently a tune Alberto didn't know with his back turned, the coffee maker grumbling and gurgling to his right while he sliced oranges with his hand. He had a cookbook propped to one side of the orange to steady it as he brought the knife down.

Alberto stepped in to help him, pulling the book away and holding the half of the orange.

"There," Alberto said, smiling.

Massimo chuckled and handed Alberto the knife. "Thanks. How about you cut the rest of these up for us, and I'll pour the coffee?"

"Sounds good to me."

Massimo shuffled around Alberto in the small kitchen space, grabbing coffee mugs off nailed-in hooks and pouring out generous amounts into both of their espresso cups.

Alberto tried to focus on cutting up the fruit but he was still stuck on the fact that Massimo, who woke up with the sun and couldn't spare a moment to rest, let him sleep through the early-morning fishing?

But Massimo broke the silence before he could ask. He slid one cup over to Alberto, then pat his back, motioning for the dining table.

"Listen, figlio. I already did the fishing for the morning. All we'll have to do is check the nets in a few hours."

Alberto arranged the orange and grapefruit wedges into little rows on his plate, then bit his lip and re-arranged them. "I figured that much."

Massimo grunted and took one of his oranges. "Do you know why we're sitting here, Alberto?"

"Uh...no?" He said in that annoying high keen again, unable to keep his voice level. He really didn't know why Massimo wasted his own time doing all of the work himself...just to have a late breakfast with him? Was he in trouble?

"Am I in trouble for something, Papa?" Alberto voiced his internal worry. The grapefruit flesh he'd torn from the rind was splayed flat and bitter on his tongue.

"Oh, no. Of course not." He smiled through his moustache, a bit of citrus juice clinging to the bottom of it. "I just wanted to tell you that I understand. And that I'm here for you."

He blinked. "Understand what?"

Massimo didn't miss a beat--even though Alberto knew that under the table his hand was clenched. "I understand that...you're getting older, and as you get older there are some...changes, and that's okay. You don't have to tell me about her unless you're ready."

Alberto inhaled the espresso wrong and he felt it burn through his nostrils. He coughed harshly, holding one hand to his throat and spluttered. "What?"

Getting older? Changes? Most of all, girl? Was he walking around blindfolded? He might have only been born with one arm...but he certainly had two fully-functioning eyes.

Massimo put his hand back on the table and took his mug, dainty in his large grip. "I should have seen the signs a long time ago. Never home...the weird smell...how nervous you are at dinner...I see it now, Alberto. So, tell me about her, yeah?"

Alberto paled. With Massimo, there was no way around this. What he said was final, so if he thought Alberto had a female love interest, then he had a female love interest.

"I...uh, she's--" Alberto took another scalding swig of coffee to distract himself. He felt a blush creep up, in the least delicate way possible, on his cheeks. "She's really great."

"What's her name?" Massimo picked at the fruit on the table, eyes flickering from the plate to his squirrelly son.

"Lucia!" Alberto blurted out, chest tight. Massimo barked out a hearty laugh and squeezed Alberto's trembling hand across the table.

"Don't be nervous, my boy! This is great news! And what does she look like?"

He felt like a fish out of water, which made him think of Luca, which made his cheeks redden, so he was stuck with his lips parted, completely stunned.

"She um...has really pretty...uh, eyes?" Alberto tried.

Massimo's dark gaze sparkled with joy for his son and his hold on Alberto's knuckles tightened. "That's okay, Alberto. Don't worry. I won't tease you over your lovely Lucia..."

Oh, God. Alberto gulped and scanned the room for something, anything to look at other than Massimo. The orange rinds. The coffee stain on the napkin from a previous breakfast. Giulia's sock left balled up in the corner by the humming ice box.

"...We'll have to meet her!" Massimo laughed. He'd been talking while Alberto was panicking, and his green eyes widened in horror as he took in the words.

"Oh, I don't think that's the best idea--"

"Nonsense!" Massimo stood from the table, collecting their plates. "Any girl who likes mio figlio will have to meet the rest of the Marcovaldo family! But, Alberto,"

He set the plates down again in his burst of excitement, leaning with serious eyes and a serious, but equally scary hard set of his mouth. "You two aren't...you know--"

If there were more espresso to drink in Alberto's mug, he would have gratefully choked on it.

"--Because if you are, son, I should know about it."

Was this nightmare ever going to end?

"T-That's okay Papa, because that's never g-going to happen!" Alberto almost shouted.

"Oh, I wouldn't say never. It all will happen in it's own time--"

"May I be excused...?" Alberto glanced up wildly at his father, blushing and sweating and hating every additional second this conversation lasted. "Please? I...I have to get something in town! Flowers!" What was he thinking? "Uh...yeah! Flowers for Luca--Lucia!"

"Oh, well..." Massimo straightened up, some of his cheeriness dampened. "Okay. Be sure to grab some for the house too, yes?"

Alberto made a beeline for his bedroom. "Yes, Papa."

"Girls love roses, Alberto. Get her some roses."

"Roses! Got it," Alberto cataloged that information away into his brain for never-use. He felt unexplainable guilt for stringing Massimo on like that, but what else was there to do? Try and convince him that, just like he was born missing an arm, Alberto was born attracted to something....different? And, just as daunting, being made another way didn't mean it was wrong?....Right?

Machi peeked his head out of the mound he'd created of Alberto's sheets, mewling when he examined the worry that creased his brow. He grabbed his wallet on the nightstand, making a pointed effort to avoid looking at the photos. Knowing they were there made him acknowledge the fact that whatever he was feeling was there, too. It was real. He was real.

"Yeah, Yeah. Soak it up while you can," Alberto waved an arm at Machiavelli now curled up around Luca's smell, then shut the door. "Little traitor."

/ / /

With the sun rising higher in the sky, it was the perfect time to sit outside the thin streets of Portorosso to smile and relax--unless you were Alberto. Who, after finding a bouquet of wildflowers for the kitchen window at the negozio di fiori, was sitting in a patio chair overlooking the fountain with his knees pulled to his chest. The flowers sat on the circular table next to him, catching the sun's warmth and sparkling through the clear plastic they were wrapped in. Alberto sighed and let the side of his cheek rest on one knee, twiddling with the metal holes grated into the table. A finger brushed the thin petals, muttering to himself and replaying the conversation he'd had with Massimo for the last hour. He didn't want to admit it, but he missed Luca. Maybe after he dropped off the flowers at home he could go see him again.

"Waiting for your special someone?"

Alberto jumped and sat upright, looking at the shadow that had intermingled with the honeycomb of the patio table, then back up at the voice. It was an older woman, who despite the heat had a thick shawl draped along her shoulders, smiling around greying brown hair.

The woman was fixed on Alberto with a knowing glance at the flowers.

"Oh! Uh--yes, signora." He dug one hand nervously into the back of his hair. The streets were next to empty a half-second ago...

She reached down to take Alberto's hand. "Signora Aragosta."

"Alberto Marcovaldo," He shook her hand, surprised by her skin unmarred by sun or wrinkles, and the thin sheen of sweat that beaded on her knuckles. Signora Aragosta let out a small laugh, still bent down to stare at Alberto.

She sniffed the air, dark eyes flickering around at the buildings behind him.

"How long have you known the sea folk?" She asked him in a hushed voice, covering the side of her mouth with the shawl so as not to draw any attention to herself.

"S-Sea folk?" Alberto leaned back in his chair, not at all enjoying where this was going. Did she work with Ercole's parents? Did she somehow find Luca...?

She tapped Alberto's bare shoulder, freckled and tanned. "Don't think you can fool me, sweetheart. I could smell him on you from a mile away."

"You...can? Is it really that, uh, obvious?" Alberto whispered back while gaping at the old woman. "And how did you--you know it's a him?"

Signora Aragosta giggled to herself. "Relax, boy. To everyone else," She ironically gestured to the empty street. "The scent is just regular old fish. The smell of a male's scales is much stronger, more potent. Not as sweet as a female's...But I'm a bit surprised that I've found it again, after all these years."

"Found what again?" Alberto couldn't help but ask, knowing it was private but this woman had decided to share anyway.

She kept her gaze low and ruminative, looking to the flowers as she spoke. "I almost forgot what they smelled like, so strong it burns your nose, no?" She laughed a bit and playfully flicked her own nose. "I miss her every day."

"Your own...friend?" Alberto said carefully.

Signora Aragosta steeled herself and tipped up her chin, looking stern. But perhaps all Alberto did was mistake her graveness for grief. "My wife."

"And she's? You're--?" Alberto couldn't get the words out he was so startled by this news.

"Oh, hush. I'll just tell you," She pulled out the chair opposite him and settled in.

[mfingenius]

Would you please do an au where Laurent thinks Damen is cheating on him (of course he is not)? It’s basic but I love when there’s angsts and jealousy.

“He’s cheating on me.”

“Uh-huh.” Nicaise says, deadpan, eating Nutella straight from the jar. “And why do you think that?”

Laurent glares at him tightly.

“I know he is.”

“How do you know?” 

“He’s been weird,” Laurent says, at a lack of a better word.

“Damen is weird,” Nicaise says, rolling his eyes. 

They’re in their shared apartment, Nicaise lying on the couch and Laurent pacing over their furniture; currently, he’s pacing pensively on their coffee table. With how often he does this, it’s a wonder it hasn’t broken.

“But he’s being weird.” Laurent insists.

“How?” Nicaise asks, exasperated.

Laurent begins to flush, because he knows how this is going to sound to Nicaise even before he says it. 

“We haven’t-” He gestures. “In a while.”

“What?”

“You know.”

“No, I don’t.”

Laurent huffs. “We haven’t had sex in a while.”

Nicaise frowns. “Okay, that’s - a little weird, but. Sex drive isn’t constant, I think. Doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Except it sort of does, Laurent thinks, because they used to fuck multiple times a day, all over Damen’s apartment - since Laurent lives with Nicaise, and Nicaise isn’t above walking into his room when he knows they’re having sex if it’s bothering him - and now - well, now, even if Laurent stays the night at Damen’s, Damen won’t touch him. 

And that’s weird, especially since it happened out of nowhere.

“And you can’t base ‘he’s cheating on me’ on one piece of rather dubious evidence.”

“Nicaise,” Laurent says with an eye roll. “Before me, Damen had dozens of partners, okay? I know that. I pretend I don’t know that, but I know that. You know that, too. He’s fucked all of the blondes in our school, and quite a bit of the ones not in our school, so I think it’s safe to say he’s never gone longer than a day without sex. It’s been two weeks.”

“Alright,” Nicaise admits. “It’s weird, okay? I agree with you. But it’s still not enough.”

“I saw him,” Laurent blurts finally; he didn’t want to tell Nicaise this, because if no one but him knew, he could pretend to be ignorant, he could pretend nothing had ever happened, but Nicaise will never forgive Damen for this, even if Laurent does. “With a woman. At dinner.”

“You followed him?”

Laurent shakes his head. “I was staying late at the library, and I had to cancel dinner with Damen, and he swore it was alright. On the way back here, I passed through that new pasta restaurant a few streets from campus, and he was sitting near the window, having dinner with a woman.”

“Blonde?”

“Blonde.”

“That bitch,” Nicaise says. “How dare he?”

And it’s relieving, to have Nicaise’s support, but it’s also gutting in a way, because Laurent suspects it means his relationship is over.

*

“Hey sweetheart,” Damen drops a kiss to his lips, but Laurent pushes him away.

“Bitch,” Nicaise tells Damen as he slips past the door. “Laurent, I’ll be back in half an hour.”

“What’s up with him?” Damen frowns. “I thought we’d finally gotten past the name calling stage!”

“Damen,” Laurent says, very seriously. “I know what you’ve been doing.”

“What have I been doing?” Damen asks with a frown on his face.

Laurent glares at him, even though he’s feeling like his heart may break.

“You’re cheating on me.”

“What?” Damen asks, and Laurent stands angrily. 

“I saw you!” He says. “Having dinner with a woman last Tuesday.”

Damen frowns, before realization dawns on his face and he shakes his head.

“Laurent, no.” He says, shaking his head. “That was Jokaste! She’s Kastor’s wife, and she was only in town for a couple of days. Remember, we were having dinner with her, until you cancelled on us?” 

Laurent pauses; he does remember Damen mentioning a woman named Jokaste was coming in a couple of days, and he does remember him mentioning having dinner with her, he’d just… never thought she was that woman.

“Well,” he says. “Then why aren’t we having sex?”

His face goes immediately red when he says it, and Damen looks at him disbelievingly.

“You mean in your apartment, where your roommate might and has walked in on us, or in my apartment, where your brother is currently staying?”

Oh, right.

“It’s not like Auguste would find out!” Laurent says. Honestly, he can now see that he came to the entirely wrong conclusion, but he can’t be faulted for it; final exams have been driving him insane, and he thinks his brain might actually be at 3% functionality with everything that’s not school related.

“The walls aren’t that thick.” Damen says. “And it would be - weird. What if he walked in on us? I could never look him in the face again!”

“He’s walked in on you before, and you’ve walked in on him! You were roommates for six years!”

“Yes, but it’s different if he walked in on me and you!” Damen exclaims. “He’d hate me!”

“It’s not like he doesn’t know we have sex!” Although, Auguste might be living in a fantasy world where Laurent and Damen never touch each other. He digs the toe of his shoe into the floor, looking down, embarrassed. “So… you’re not cheating on me?”

“No, sweetheart, I’d never!” Damen rushes over to him, wraps him in his arms. “I love you so much. I could never - I wouldn’t.”

“Alright,” Laurent says. He checks his watch. “Nicaise will be back in… twenty six minutes. Want to have sex?”

Damen grins. “You’re incorrigible.”

Laurent sticks his tongue out at him. “It’s entirely your fault.”

Damen laughs and kisses him deeply. “I’ll gladly take responsibility for it.”

———————————

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[hqprotectionsquad]

Hello! can I request a hc of Oikawa, Bokuto, Kuroo and Ushijima’s reaction to their s/o who’s titled as the goddess of volleyball who also won the nationals but unfortunately fainted or fell sick right after the competition. Sorry for my grammar and if the idea is quite weird 😅 Thank you in advance thoo! I hope you have a nice dayy! 💜

Oikawa, Bokuto, and Kuroo reacting to his S/O getting hurt during Nationals

A/N: hi! thanks for your request! i basically took in the request as the s/o’s team is going to nationals or is also going, and then took it from there! so not exactly the same, but slightly more realistic! also i expended all of my energy on the three of them and i don’t have any more brain power to think of ushijima 😭i’m sorry!!!

Oikawa

He’s definitely supportive of you no matter what.

Oikawa shows up to the end of your practices with your favorite snack. (He also eats like half of it before he even gets to you because he just came from his practice.)

“Hey Y/N-chan, I got you your favorite snack!” He says as he holds out the plastic bag to you.“You definitely ate part of it.”“WhaaaaaAAAt no! Why would I ever do that?”

You’re really appreciative of everything he does for you because he is oh so whipped.

Since his team didn’t make it to the spring nationals, he takes his loss in stride. Yes, he’s upset, but it’s nothing he’s not used to. ;-;

He loves the fact that you’re so excited to experience this new thing since it’s your first time going to nationals!

You two have been to Tokyo once as a special date, but to experience it together as a participant and their supporter is really awesome!

Oikawa takes the opportunity to know what it’s like to be an audience member and not on the court. Sure, he has watched games but usually to analyze them. He isn’t saying he won’t but he definitely wants to try to take a step back.

(He also uses this time to eat. I mean, they have so many food stands! He slips away to find a street market and dig in while you’re in practice.)

Your matches go splendidly and you’re more than thrilled when your team earns a place in the finals.

“Y/N! I’m so proud of you!”

But the match isn’t going as well as you had hoped to.

As your team’s libero, you’ve grown accustomed to smacks to the face and hits that hurt your ribs for days.

However, one of the last spikes in the game takes you out of commission as it totally knocks the wind out of you and you can’t get the air into your lungs without the medical team bringing you to their wing.

At that moment, Oikawa wanted to rush the court and help you even though he isn’t experienced like the nurses are. He just felt so helpless, who wouldn’t?

For whatever reason, significant others aren’t allowed in until after the athlete should be okay to go on their own, but it’s Oikawa. C’mon. The man knows how to get through anything and everything that’s in his way.

"Y/N-chan, what did I tell you about taking it easy, now look what you did to yourself.” He scolds you teasingly as you are resting on the nurse’s bed. He whispers a bunch of cute little things to you while your eyes are shut. He knows you can’t hear him, but he says these things anyway.

When you wake up, he leaves so that you have some time with your parents.

And when he comes back, the first thing you do is wrap your arms around him so tight that he forgets to breathe.

“You’re breathtaking.” His eyes flicker at the pun and you smack him a good one. “Ow, Y/N-chan! They should’ve put you back in the game, you’re fine now!”

Bokuto

The two of you are dating long-distance, so although he couldn’t be there for all of your games, Bokuto made sure he sent texts with lots of love before and after each one.

However, he made a trip to your part of Japan and he was there when your last play was the one where it decided you were heading to nationals!

Bokuto was extremely surprised at how amazing you blocked the ball and it went straight to the floor. Your teammates crowded around you and all jumped for victory.

But was he surprised that your team was heading to spring nationals? Of course not! Your team is one of the most hardworking teams out there.

He takes you out to eat after your match, as a good gentleman should.

“I can’t wait to see you in Tokyo next month! You’ll finally see where I live!”

When your team arrives for the spring nationals, Akaashi holds him back from meeting you before you settle in.

“What?! Why can’t I see her once she comes in?”“You’re going to bother her team.” (cue emo Bokuto)“But—” “You’ll see her later.” (cue happy Bokuto)

He finally takes you out on that date he’s planned since months ago. Minus all the ice cream you were going to eat together, so now he’ll have to eat it by himself. (He’s not really complaining.)

When your matches begin, he’s in the crowd as often as he can. He arrives as early as you do, making sure he gets a seat super close so he can take photos. (Yes, Bokuto is aware he’s also competing at nationals. He still does it.)

Bokuto on snapchat: “THAT’S MY GIRL 🥵😭SO GOOD BABY!” (He is definitely that cringy, but I feel like he doesn’t know he’s being cringy.)

The worst thing is that some of your matches coincide with one another, but you make sure to catch up afterwards. It doesn’t bother you as much as it does Bokuto, but you know in an ideal situation, you both would be able to support the other full-time.

What’s even worse is when your team arrives to the semifinals, you’re over for the game because of a rough shot right to your fingers. The nurse talks to you as she tapes your fingers.

“Luckily, nothing is dislocated—”“So I should be good to go back in then?”“You didn’t let me finish. I don’t recommend you going back into the game if you think you’ll continue onto the finals. You have a better chance then because your hands might be semi-healed.”

You return to the court, but on the bench. Head hung, but you’re hopeful for the rest of the game, as you cheer on your teammates.

The game came out close and your team had the upper hand this time around.

“(Y/N)! We heard what happened!” Bokuto rushes up to you after both of your games are finished. Akaashi trails in the background and silently provides his condolences for your fingers. “Are you okay?” Your boyfriend hugs you gently, which could leave one with their mouth open, but he has always made sure that his hugs never hurt you despite his stature.

“I’m okay! I should still be able to play in the finals in two days. How did your match end up?”“Ah, we ended up losing. I’m still recovering from it. Right, Akaashi? Tell (Y/N).”“Yeah, he’s still working on it. Clearly.”

Bokuto and Akaashi are in the crowd for the finals. They originally sat but every time you blocked the ball, Bokuto would raise to his feet and start cheering for you. The people in his section kicked him and Akaashi out for disrupting. Now they’re standing by the railing and Bokuto doesn’t even have to get up because he’s already—you guessed it—standing.

Your team was not the better six this time around, but lucky for you, you have Bokuto and Akaashi to comfort you with hugs (Bokuto), handshakes (Akaashi), and ice cream.

Kuroo

Kuroo's been excited for you and your team since the start.

"I know you guys are going to make it to nationals. Have you seen your team? You all are much more talented than some of the people here.""That's not very nice to say, Tetsurou.""I'm just saying the truth. I'll be at the match."

Kuroo's usually busy, but hearing that he'd be at the match makes your heart squeeze.

You're the outside hitter/wing spiker of your team and you love know that any time you get a shot in, Kuroo's cheering for you in the crowd.

After the match, he’s waiting for you outside of the court with a small bouquet of flowers. (From where he bought those, you have no idea and he has no intention of letting you know.)

“You did amazing, I’m so proud of you,” he says while squishing you in a tight hug. You can’t breathe anymore, but who really cares for necessary human functions?

“Thanks for the love, Tetsurou. Let’s go out to eat!” He has to choose the restaurant because you can’t choose; everything looks good to a hungry athlete!

You two have never been at a tournament together, competing together, so please forgive him when he spends his break with Kenma because he forgot that you had a match.

It's really exciting because Kuroo is the captain of the host representative team and even though it doesn't mean he's the king of the world, he's the king of your world.

To experience Tokyo at this bustling time alongside your lover is beyond words. To have him by your side instead of through a screen is so much better.

Your last match is unfortunately pretty rough. You dug for the ball, just as another girl had. You heard a crunch and you couldn't tell who it came from.

This is the only match Kuroo could attend and he winces in pain seeing the collision on court. He soon realizes that it's you and exits the top floor to come down to the court floor.

You're able to get up after the medic stretches your limbs and it doesn't seem like there's anything wrong from a first glance. They take you in for a full exam.

Kuroo isn't ready to freak out, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't suppressing any feelings. He needs to be strong for you. He plays games on his phone to distract himself, sends a few texts to the team to let them know he'll be late to dinner.

You come out with a smile that grows wider seeing him. "You were here the whole time?"

"Of course." Don't mind him, he's crying on the inside because he feels like he's so lucky to have someone who is actually sunshine. "You were amazing out there, and I don't want to hear anything about your cute ass complaining you didn't do good enough."

[tsarinastorm]

AA: Ashes to Ashes- Adam Sackler/Reader- Chapter 5

Rating: Explicit.

Let me know if you want to be tagged in the taglist

Chapter 1  Chapter 2   Chapter 3  Chapter 4

Adam was contently sitting at the table with Y/N, her friends and Bagel, who was happily resting his head on Adam’s thigh. Y/N had invited him to have lunch with her friends, normally he would have avoided such socialization but he was willing to try to make Y/N happy. He liked that she was introducing him to important people in her life, which meant that she was at least contemplating the possibility of them being a couple. And she had her arm stretched on the back of his chair, with her body angled into him. Her hand was brushing his shoulder.  Turns out Y/N’s friends were kind, funny, and easy to be around. There was Victoria, the blonde, who was a ‘blogger’ whatever the hell that meant; then there was Bria the one with pink hair who was an artist, and there was Cori, who was a lawyer like Y/N. He was surprised that the group of them had a genuine friendship not like the jealousy and scheming that defined Hannah’s and Jessa’s friendships.

           Honestly, after meeting her friends, Adam was more puzzled by her friendship with Jessa. She seemed to have real friendships so why was she holding onto what she thought was friendship with Jessa? Why couldn’t she see that Jessa would fuck her over the first chance she gets, and not even feel bad about it? Maybe Y/N was just too kind-hearted to see the bad in other people, he hoped Jessa doesn’t screw her over. When he zones back into the conversation, his face goes red when Cori asks, “So how long have you guys been fucking?” Y/N chokes on her drink. Victoria slaps Cori on the arm and scolds her, “That’s none of our business.”

           “We’re not fucking, we’re friends.” Y/N finally answers and shoots dagger at her friend for asking. Cori is unbothered by her threats as she chuckles and mutters under her breath, “Still going with that story then…”

           The group says their goodbyes and go their separate ways. He and Y/N are going back to his place, she’s offered to help him run his lines for an upcoming audition. Though he wonders if he’ll be able to concentrate with Y/N wearing that thin sundress that she was strutting around in. Adam curses the weather, it should be starting to cool down, and instead they’re in the middle of another heat wave. Another heat wave means Y/N wearing less clothing, which normally he wouldn’t complain about, he certainly enjoyed the view, but it was difficult to concentrate when his dick was hard.

             “Run them again,” Y/N says standing up, rolling her neck, and then she walks towards the window. The sun hits her body just right and Adam can see through her dress, and he can feel himself drooling. Her body looks just as perfect as he’s imagined it would, if only he could remove the obstruction of that dress. He can also feel his dick hardening with interest. He makes himself look away and think of puppies dying, or any other depressing thought. Y/N walks over to him, shakes the script in front his face saying, “Hello? Did you hear me at all? Run them again, Ads.”

           ‘Ads’ is the nickname she’d bestowed upon him and he was growing to like it. He calls her ‘tiger’ but sometimes he calls her ‘kid,’ he can’t help it. He responds with a sigh then goes into character, reading his lines. She smiles at him and he grins back.

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

It had now been two and a half weeks since Adam had showed up on your doorstep saying that he and Jessa broke up. You had spent every day together since, you were adamant about keeping it just friends but it was clear that Adam had other feelings. Adam wanted the two of you to be together, and you were falling for him, feeling those butterflies in your stomach, but he was your friend’s ex. It wasn’t that long ago that he was her boyfriend.

           There had been hand touching, hugs, and gentle, borderline displays of affections. That had been more than enough to make you burn. He called and told you had got the role, you insisted on celebrating. Adam didn’t want to go out, so you settled on a night in. You made dinner, or attempted to make dinner in your crockpot, and you baked some sweets, for yourself. Maybe you could convince Adam to try them too.

           Then you hear a buzz at the door, Bagel barks and you go to let Adam in. Bagel jumps on as soon as he’s through the door. He scratches his belly then walks towards you. You offer him a hug, telling him, “Congrats! I’m so proud of you, I know you’ll be amazing!”

           Your arms wrap around his waist and his body engulfs yours. You love how his body always feels warm against yours and how his arms feel like a wall around you. His hands grip your waist and yours move up around his neck. Your head rests on his chest and his on your shoulder. Neither of you move, you’re each enjoying the intimacy. Then, Bagel comes up and tries to get in between the two of you, he’s clearly jealous, though you’re too sure which one of you he’s jealous over.

           The two of slowly part, you drop your arms awkwardly to your sides, then your timer goes off. You rush into the kitchen and pull the cookie tray out of the oven. Adam follows you and starts examining the cookies, he refrains from grabbing one but asks, “What kind are those?”

           “They’re butterscotch pecan cookies. And over there is the main course: beef roast and veggies.” You tell him and he walks over to examine the main meal too. He then smirks, lifts the crockpot lid, inhales, and says, “Oh you’re spoiling me.”

           You can’t help but chuckle at his reaction. Then, he looks around like he’s noticed something different, and plays with the kitchen light switch before asking, “Why is your light not working?”

           “Because the light bulb burned out and I can’t reach the light fixture to switch it out. My ladder is too short. I need to get a taller one.” You admit and now you feel embarrassed because you should have fixed it long ago, or asked for help. But you had adjusted to having dim light in the kitchen.

           “Damn…tiger you should have told me. Where’s your ladder?” He asks and you motion towards the utility closet. Before you know it, Adam is walking back into the kitchen with the step ladder and is asking for more tools: a screwdriver, and a light bulb. You recover them and play assistant. Then, you have real light in your kitchen again, you thank him. He just responds with, “That’s what I’m around for. Why didn’t you tell me when it happened? I could have fixed it earlier.”

           “I mean it’s not your job to do that stuff for me.” You finally answer and you notice that he’s down away from the ladder and close to you. The smell of his cologne hits you, and you’re feeling overwhelmed. When he’s around you feel like a horny, socially awkward teenager who’s around their crush, it’s the Adam Sackler curse. He then goes for a plate and hands you one. Then, the bastard winks at you saying, “Ladies first.”

           ******

           The two of you settled on the couch after dinner to watch a movie, and you can’t help but be reminded of the last time you were in this situation with Adam. You weren’t about to allow a repeat event to happen, no matter how much you wanted it to happen. You’re starting to get sleepy and you look at the clock. You’re shocked to see that it’s 1 am.  When you gaze over at Adam, it’s obvious he’s tired too because his eyes are drooping and he’s being very quiet.

           Standing and stretching, you tell him, “Ads, it’s 1 am. I’m going to bed.” He looks at you and groans in response. Then, he asks, “Can I crash here, I don’t feel like walking home.”

           “Uh sure.” You say and you go to go about your nightly routine. After showering, skin care and brushing your teeth, you creep out to check on Adam. Last time he slept over, he curled in a ball and slept peacefully on the couch, you expected to see the same sight. Nope. Now, his long limbs were hanging over the couch, and he was turning his body trying to get comfortable. It looked pathetic and you’d have to be cruel-hearted to leave him like that.

           “Adam, you’re too big for the couch. You can sleep with me. Just sleep.” He snaps his head in your direction, and nods in agreement. Underneath his agreement, you can tell he’s enjoying the fact you told him he can sleep with you, maybe a little too much. There was a damn good chance you’d regret this decision within minutes, but you were sleepy and horny so your brain wasn’t functioning at a high level. Somewhere along the way, Adam has stripped his clothes and is now in his briefs. You roll your eyes and decide that as long as they stay on, you can deal with it.

           After turning down your bed and laying in your normal position, Adam sneaks in behind you, bringing the covers up over you both. He pauses for a moment, contemplating which position he should sleep. Then, he asks, “Can I spoon you? I won’t be weird about it but it helps me sleep.”

           “Okay just don’t get handsy.” You reply. He scoots closer to you, you can feel his breath on the back of your neck. Then you feel his arms snake around your waist and his legs move in behind yours. You can feel the steady pace of his breathing and the warmth of his chest on your back.

           “G’night, Y/N,” you hear him exhale. You whisper, “Good night, Adam.” You were hoping you’d fall asleep fast but deep sleep never hit you. Maybe it was the human heater wrapping himself around you, or maybe it was because you were horny. Your sex life had been going through a dry spell lately, you hadn’t time to pleasure yourself lately either and now you were stuck in a bed with a man that you were very sexually attracted to. You were going to combust.

           You snake your hands down into your panties, thankful you were a nightgown instead of pajama shorts. Your fingers dip into your folds when you feel Adam move behind you. Damn, there goes that plan. You lay still and hope he goes back to sleep, then you can feel his arm moving too. His breath is getting more and more ragged.

           Finally, you turn your head to peak at him, and you were not prepared for the sight. He was jerking his cock in your bed, with you less than a foot away. Your eyes trail up and down the length of his dick. Impressive, it’s long and thick, like you’ve always imagined. Suddenly, he notices you staring at him. You see his emotions go from embarrassment to satisfaction within seconds He finally informs you, “I can’t sleep unless I cum. Do you like what you see.”

           You nod your head and you notice your hand is still in your panties. You start to rock your hips against your hand to gain some friction on your throbbing clit. You hope the way your body is angled that it will prevent Adam from seeing it. You have no luck.

           “Fuck you’re jerking it too.” He says and now he’s watching you. You decide to give him a show, you pull down your top so he can see your tits and you move so you’re sitting facing him. You spread your legs and rub circles on your clit. Adam’s eyes are blown black with lust and his face looks wild while his hand strokes his cock from base to tip even faster. When you look back at up at his face, you notice that he’s not looking at you.

           “What the fuck? Look at me! You’re playing with your cock in my bed and I’m showing you my body!” His eyes go to you and they stay locked on you. He finally says, “Sorry I didn’t think I was allowed to look.”

           “You better be thinking of me while you’re jerking your cock.” You tell him as you dip your fingers into your heat then go back up to rub your clit. He says, “Fuck, I think of you every time I touch my cock. I think of your mouth, your tits, your tight, perfect cunt.”

           His dirty talk is really getting you off so you move your hand faster. The sounds of slapping flesh fill the room. You tell him, “Do you think of me sucking you off, or about how your cock will split my pussy?”

           “Fuck, both! You’d probably both you dirty whore.” He spews back. You keep going, you can feel yourself getting closer and closer as a tingle starts to grow. You keep the filthy talk going, “You’d probably want to cum on my tits.”

           “Damn right I do. I want my cum all over your fucking body, paint you with it.” As your orgasm looms, you pull back, you don’t want to cum before he does, you’re enjoying this too much. Adam’s voice jars you when he asks, “Are you gonna cum?”

           “Don’t you want to cum first?” you ask. He shakes his head and he slows his hand before saying, “Want to see you cum first.” You then rub long, big circles all around your clit, you’re so wet you can feel it dripping. You moan as you cum, your back arches and your legs quiver. You’re sure from the way you’re sitting that Adam can see your pussy pulsing.

           Adam cums moments later, cum going all over his chest, and he lets out a low moan. That low moan is a sound you want to hear from him again, you wish it was you that elicited that noise from him. You both lay there, totally spent and neither of you want to look away. It feels more intimate than most sex that you’ve had, this is true intimacy.

           You finally chuckle, “So do you do this with all of your friends?”

           “Ha! Just the ones I really like.” He replies with a big goofy smile on his face. You pull the top of your shirt back over your chest. You realize that he’s still watching you, you answer back with, “Does this mean I’m your best friend?”

           “No you’re more of a temporary friend,” he says in a serious tone as he looks up at the ceiling. What the hell is that supposed to mean, you think to yourself. You then ask for an explanation, “Temporary friend?”

           “It means you’re my friend for now…until you stop fighting your desire and stop punishing us both.” He says, his eyes feel like they’re burrowing into your soul. You force your eyes from him. You get out of bed saying, “You know what? I’m not having this conversation when you’re in my bed with your dick out.”

           “I think it’s the best time to have it.” You hear him say as you go into your bathroom. You get out a hand towel, wet in the sink and then go back to your bed. Adam’s watching you curiously, and is about to ask what you’re doing when you start cleaning up the mess he’s made of himself. His hand brushes yours with a light touch and you give him a close-lipped smile. He then thanks you.

           You put the towel in the clothes hamper and when you return to bed, you’re sitting to face Adam. He looks at you like he’s unsure what to do next, as if he’s debating something within his head. You place a hand on his cheek, then lean into kiss him. At first, it’s chaste, tentative, just lips. Then, his hand goes to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in the hair there, it’s enough to make you gasp. The moment you gasp his tongue in your mouth wrestling against yours, savoring your taste.

           Your phone rings and you shout in frustration. Adam huffs in response and his lips go to your neck. When you grab your phone, it shows up as an unknown caller. Adam mumbles on the pulse point in your throat, “Please don’t answer that.”

           You turn, throw the phone on the end table and pull his mouth to yours again. You’re now straddling his waist, his mouth on yours, your body pressed against his and you can feel his cock hardening against your mound. His mouth goes back down to your neck, licking, kissing, and leaving marks as his large hands finds your tits. He squeezes them, before tugging on your nipples, which gets a content sigh from you. Then he’s pulling your night shirt off and after a moment of staring again, his mouth dives into the space in between your breasts. He murmurs, “Perfect fucking tits. I always knew it, better than I pictured.”

           “Did you picture them a lot?” You say as his mouth attaches to your nipple, tongue swirling around your nipple, then releasing it to watch it pebble. Before giving your other breast the same treatment he answers your question, “I pictured it every time I saw you, and every time I jacked off after.”

           Suddenly, he’s flipped you so he’s on top of you, his face lingering above yours, his hand is pinning yours. You spread your legs and now he’s grinding his cock against you, it’s hitting your clit and you’re still over-stimulated from your orgasm. You reach down, pull down his briefs, and start stroking his cock. It feels like hot velvet in your hands, you trace your fingers along the vein, and rub your thumb on his tip, spreading the precum that’s dripping. He groans at your touch, then he’s shuffling to pull your panties off of you. After he’s thrown them somewhere on your floor. You tell him, “I want you inside me, now.”

           He asks, “Do I need a condom?”

           You answer with a question, “You don’t need one, but I’d prefer you wear one. There should be one in the top drawer.” He opens the drawer and pulls one out. You can tell he wants to ask you about it but he keeps his mouth closed. He opens it and puts it on.

           “You want my cock?” He asks as he lines up at your entrance. You pull your legs up so your knees are nearly at your chest. You nod in response, and he enters you in one quick thrust. Fuck it’s a good burn, you feel filled to the brim. He gives you a moment to adjust before he picks up the pace, settling into a rhythm. He says, “You like my cock?”

           “Yeah I like your cock. Do you like my cunt?” you ask and he pounds into you harder, when he drags out, he hits your g-spot. He answers, “Fuck yes. Every time I fucked Jessa I pretended it was your cunt I was fucking.”

           He snaps his hips again, and he hits your g-spot again. You wrap your arms around his neck and keep your legs pulled up. The bed is rocking, the headboard bouncing off the wall. He tells you, “I like seeing your tits bounce.”

           He looks down and admires them. You tell him, “keep fucking me like this, I’m close.” He follows your instructions, keeping the pace the same and his hips in the same position. Your right hand moves from around his neck to stroke your clit. It doesn’t take long for you to cum between your earlier orgasm and the g-spot action. You’re almost embarrassed by how desperate and pornstar worthy your moan feels like, your body jolts, and you swear you can see stars. Or you totally black out. Either way, it was an out of body experience. Adam’s voice brings you back to reality, “Your cunt is squeezing my cock. Fuck you’re tight.”

           “Get on your hands and knees,” he commands, and you follow his instructions this time. You’re still out of it from your orgasm, you feel his hand grip your hip before his cock enters you again. Then he’s leaning over you, you can feel his chest on your back, his arm around yours, and every snap of his hips hits you strongly. His rhythm gets sloppier, you can hear his breath accelerate. You clench your pussy around his cock then release it a few times. He cums with a grunt, his hips thrust a few more times as he rides out his orgasm.

Then, he collapses beside you and you lay facing him. Adam takes the condom off and throws it in the garbage can near your bed. He leans in over you and gives you a searing kiss before pulling away and placing a kiss on your forehead. You tell him, “In case no one has told you- you deserve to be happy and to be loved.”

“And in case no one has ever told you- so do you.” He says as he pulls you close and you can’t fight sleep anymore. You sleep peacefully with his arms around you.

****

When you wake up in the morning, you’re sweaty and Adam has a death grip on you. His arms are wrapped around your waist, and his leg is draped over yours. You manage to get out of bed. Bagel is still asleep on the couch, and you go to start your Keurig. Your phone starts ringing and it’s that unknown caller who called last night. You reluctantly answer in case it’s some kind of emergency, “Hello.”

“It’s Jessa.”

[yuvon-writes-letters]

To, Yu

Okay, I was gone, and the moment I came back, i [The sentence randomly stops]

I’m, not upset at the fact you lied, i actually had an inkling for awhile now while you were describing the rooms for the first time, it looked like you wanted to continue, but stopped yourself at the last second. I understand why you lied, seeing all of those things must’ve been hard, but Lis and I can’t help you if we don’t know anything, ok Yu?

It sounds like, you found ways out, but both are, not good for you? I don’t know, my brain’s all fuzzy and I can’t comprehend words right, maybe I’m getting something wrong.

My point is, when you build up the guts to, please please please explain to us, or at least me, on what’s in that North room, I don’t care if it’s bad we need to know everything we can about the realm so [The sentence stops again]

Sorry, I’m just, kind of on the edge. Of course you don’t have to tell me now, but

If, it’s not intruding on personal space, what the hell happened between you and Jake? I’m assuming that Jake lied about something, but I don’t think we would do any good if there’s bad blood between the two of you. I sent my Jake the letters too, and he agrees as well.

We’re both worried about you, so, don’t hide anything, alright? [The rest of the text is blacked out]

Rai and Jake

|Hello, real person behind Rai here, I wanted to clarify some things because I don’t think I made it clear before (I’m sorry about that). Rai is a complete OC, their not a self-insert at all, and they have their own life completely separate from mine. Although it is true that I’ll be busy on July and won’t write letters frequently, I wanted to give an in-character Roleplay reason as to why Rai is not as active as the first few letters, hence the panicking at the last letter.

I, the real person, am completely alright, Rai, is not, not at all :)|

Rai,

Thanks for understanding. I'll try to hide as little as I can from now on.

What I think are the two ways out are sitting still and looking pretty, which I despise the concept of, and killing the MWAF by paying an even price, which I hate the idea of even more. (Blacked out) I checked out the altar room a little more, and the phrase "An eye for an eye" (or something approximate because Google Translate) was on the back of the altar in Greek. Jake helped me translate it before we argued.

Mixing mythologies yet again. So far we've got Egyptian, Greek, and... Biblical? I think that's from the Bible. Sue me, it's been a while since I took World Religions.

Actually... no. I guess it hasn't. It just feels longer than it actually was.

I'll try to be a little more specific about what's in the north room. It's not... quite as bad as I made it out to be before, but I was already freaking out and in a bad headspace from remembering the freaky stuff, and I blew it a little out of proportion. I'm not sure how I'd even explain what it really is, though.

It's something similar to a hologram, transparent enough that you can see the trees through it. There's some text in white that doesn't seem to be addressed to me, implying that I'm stuck between the end of something and the beginning of another. Then there are a couple bars— five, to be exact —and two of them are filling with orange very slowly. The others are untouched so far. It's implied I'll be out of this place when all the bars fill up to full. I'm not sure this text was necessarily written by the entity, though. If it was, I think it'd address me a little more directly.

I don't think the argument Jake and I had is necessarily all that useful to the investigation, but since I'm trying to not keep secrets anymore, I'll say it regardless. The cause is tangentially related to the case, anyhow.

I asked him a little while ago whether he could find out if there was a missing person's out for me or not, so we could figure out the extent of the stasis. Then drama happened and I completely forgot all about it until two days ago. I asked him again then, and he sort of acted a little cagey while telling me that he was still in the process of investigating, and told me to wait another day. So I did. I don't think he expected me to remember, since I forget things all the time, but I don't forget things I'm really invested in and I REALLY wanted to know the answer to that question.

Jake made an excuse and went offline when I tried to ask again, which sort of made me think the worst. In hindsight, thinking that anyone who could've reported me missing was dead was pretty stupid, but you try being rational in the face of an unknown like that. In any case, I got anxious, and that sort of blew everything out of proportion, and then that made me more and more upset, and given all the other bullshit inherent in this place and the stress I've been through lately I just completely broke down. Had to sit down and put my head down so I was less likely to pass out from my hyperventilating. Luckily, I knew what was going on and I know breathing exercises, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

In any case, when I was back to being semi-functional, I unlocked my phone again, meaning to close out of the chat, but apparently my last few texts before I had to stop had managed to get across to Jake at least a portion of how freaked out I was. He probably figured it out based on all the typoes and the lack of punctuation or something, his "flaw" (if you can call it that) only seems to make him oblivious to tone and not to outright out of character writing styles.

So he finally told me that there wasn't a missing person's out for me, and not only that but everyone who might have put one out pretty much forgot I existed. He got my fucking parents to answer a "survey," and they only filled out that my half-sister existed, not me. Legal documents and stuff were still all in order, but literally the only people who seem to remember I fucking exist are the Duskwood crew and you and Lis and he had the nerve to tell me that he didnt want to tell me because it wasnt essential information and it would affect my judgement

Back now. I screamed abuse into the woods for a couple minutes, so I feel a bit better now.

I can see his point, logically, but for fuck's sake, there are some things that don't have much to do with the case that I do need to know regardless. This is one.

I'm not going to cut contact with him forever. To put it callously, neither of us can afford that. But if I talk to him now, I'm going to end up saying something or other I'll regret.

Right. Other topics.

Rai, are you doing alright? I know you've got personal issues going on, and I'm not trying to pry into them, but your writing is sort of disjointed and you mentioned being "fuzzy" and "not comprehending words right". Are you getting enough to drink and to sleep? I know weird shit happens to me when I get dehydrated. If you ever feel like you're about to pass out, sit down and put your head between your knees. If this continues, maybe you should see a doctor. Do you feel like your head is stuffed with cotton balls, at all? Any other symptoms?

Feel better :(

—Yu

(The letter tucks itself into the paper clip with the others.)

[k-writer1998]

Black, White, Grey (3/3)

Having Bang Chan as your best friend is great cause he’s literally the best but not so much when you’ve had a crush on him for a majority of the friendship.

Angst

w.c: 2.1k

Part 1     Part 2

A/N: Depending on the reaction on this last part, I may or may not make an extension/alternate ending thing but don’t get your hopes up 😅

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      It’s been a week and I’ve just been swamped trying to finish up my schedules while my manager finalized the details on the new project. Because of this I hadn’t had any time to see or talk to any of the boys much, but without a doubt Chan has just been super weird all week. He’s been checking in more often and has been more attentive to my responses than normal, what's with him lately? I shook the thought from my mind as my manager pulled up to the JYP building. Don’t dwell on it. If the weird vibe is still there when you stop by then you can worry, if not then you’re over thinking.

“After this last photo shoot you’ll have a few days off to pack. We could be there as long as half a year so make sure you have everything. You sign a few papers on my desk then you get some free time while I get everything organized and faxed over okay? ”

“Got it, I should be around the dance practice rooms but if not I’ll text you.”

“The plane ticket is already settled. Once it gets closer to the date I’ll send you the full details but it should be an evening flight.”

“Okay we can go over it later, let’s go in first.”

      As we turned to the building my feet froze in place as my eyes connected with Minho’s. Shit, no one was supposed to find out. My manager looked between the two of us before telling me that he would meet me inside. Minho’s eyes narrowed at me as he came up. I avoided his gaze, instead taking notice of the drinks in his hand and tried to deflect.

“Did you lose a game and have to go buy everyone drinks?” I smiled.

“Yeah, but what was that about? Where are you going?”

“... do I have the option to withhold that information?”

“I mean you can, I’ll just ask Chan-hyung.”

“Wait, don’t! I kinda… didn’t tell him either…”

“Okay now you have to spill if not even your best friend knows. Does it have to do with Chan-hyung?”

“No, I’m not that dramatic,” I rolled my eyes, “I’ve actually been planning this for a while and I finally got the opportunity to do it. I’ve never brought it up because nothing was set in stone yet.”

“Well how long have you known?”

“Since last week…”

“A week? So you’re going overseas for six months for whatever and you didn’t plan on telling any of us?”

“I mean I’ve had to finish a lot of things and we both were so busy-”

“Were you going to tell us today?”

      He knew it was all excuses and he was calling me out on my bullshit. I wasn’t planning on telling then until probably the day before the flight because I can’t do goodbyes. I knew they would all be happy for me, even encourage me, but there was something about all of that that made it harder for me to go. I was already dealing with a heavy heart about Chan, I didn’t need another thing weighing me down when I’m barely functioning as it. It was selfish I know but I needed at least some mental stability intact if I was going to be doing this.

“I wasn’t… but I have my reasons okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he scoffed as he turned to the door.

“Minho wait,” I called as I grabbed his arm, “I’m sorry okay? A lot has happened in such a short period of time and I’m trying to deal with it all but my brain can’t catch up and I don’t know how to put everything into words right now. I’ll tell the others on my own terms but please keep this a secret for now.”

      I saw his jaw tense as he kept his eyes closed for a moment before he turned to glare at me. His eyes scanned my face for a moment before he sighed and I relaxed a bit.

“Fine. But you better hurry up about it. I’m not keeping it for long.”

“Thanks Minho, I will. I’ll meet you at the studio in a bit okay?”

      He shooed me away and I gave his arm a brief hug before meeting my manager inside so I could sign what he needed then left to go meet the boys. Hanging out was pretty normal minus a bit of extra attitude from Minho and Chan being less weird but still not himself. The next two days were filled with me figuring out what to pack while fighting the little voice in my head that wanted me to just stay in bed and never leave. I’m currently staring at my phone, living room strewn with things that need to be packed, as I tried to figure out how to text the boys I’m leaving without everyone getting mad… especially a certain someone. As I erased yet another failed attempt at trying to tell them, my door chimed as my door code was being inputted. Before I could think of who it was, Chan bursted in and I got up to meet him halfway. He was breathing heavily, looking quite the mess but the troubling factor was his eyes. They were red and filled with confusion, betrayal, pain… God damn it Minho couldn’t you have given me more time?

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving? What happened to no secrets? Why is it that I had to find out from Minho?!"

“Chan calm down… I was about to tell everyone, no one was supposed to know before. Minho only knows because he overheard it while I was talking with my manager. He wasn't supposed to say anything though..."

"Why? Did you just want to disappear before I could say anything?"

"I didn’t mean to keep a secret okay? I have my reasons for hiding it just like you have your reasons for hiding whatever has been making you so weird lately," I countered.

      I wasn’t the only one who was going to be confronted. I mean his reaction was a bit extreme just for an overseas trip, even if it was an unannounced one, but if we’ve already reached this point might as well get some answers. 

“What are your reasons then? And I haven’t been weird.”

“I’ll tell you once you tell me because we both know that you aren’t being yourself. You’re treating me like glass, as if anything you do will hurt me,” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“I'm not, I just don't know how to act when- It's just when Minho-" he ran a frustrated hand through his hair before he asked, barely above a whisper, "Are… are you leaving because of me?"

"What? Chan, why would you-" 

      My heart stopped. As the pieces fell in place, the color drained from my face. It makes sense. Why he’s been so weird lately and that nagging feeling that I’ve been having that something was wrong… 

"How long?"

“I-”

“Chan don’t act like you don’t know what I’m asking.”

"Since a week and a half ago..."

      A week and a half ago? The only time I would have talked about it where he could catch it was…

“… you weren’t asleep were you?”

“I was! But I woke up because of Minho and I was trying to go back to sleep when…” 

      Panic flushed his face as he explained himself and I just numbly nodded in understanding. I couldn’t help but sigh at what was unraveling right now. I’ve been getting away with it for so long that I wasn’t careful. That’s on me. 

“Can we just go back to normal, please? This whole treating me like I’m porcelain, being super careful about what you do and the constant glances,I hate it.” 

“I- I just… I don’t know how to act. You’re my best friend and I love you but-”

      I cut him off before he finished. The pure confusion written all over his face reminds me why I’ve hidden this for years. The frustration at myself boils beneath my skin, I’m trying not to let Chan’s actions get to me… but it does. It fuels my anger more, I don’t need pity and I don’t need protection.

"Chan, there is no option where I’m not hurt in some way. Would you leave Eunhye to be with me, break two hearts at the price of one? Or would you just not date anyone to protect my feelings at the price of your own? Do you think I’d be happy or even okay with you doing that?!” I snapped.

      He was shocked at my sudden fire of questions. He stayed silent, trying to find an answer but the growing conflict that spread across his face was the only answer I needed. I let out a sigh, so much has happened. Him finding a girl he likes, me getting that overseas audition, him finding out about my feelings… it’s overwhelming. I take a moment to collect myself before I speak again.

“Sorry… I just… I hoped to never have this conversation.”

      The lost look in his eyes broke my heart because I know that look. He’s nearly perfected hiding his feelings from his facial expressions, but his eyes always betrayed him. They held fear and slight panic as they darted around my face, trying to figure out my next move.

“I’m okay Chan,” I offered him a weak smile, “We’ve known each other for far too long and that’s how I know I was never an option. If there was a chance for an “us” I of all people would have caught it, don’t you think?”

       He averted his gaze, the guilt washing over him as he shrank back and started to fiddle with the hem of his hoodie sleeve. I took a step forward, placing my hands on the sides of his face and gently brought him to look back at me. I’ve done this countless times when I found him in one of his lows, where doubt and uncertainty had found its way into his heart. Something so intimate that belonged to us, at this moment, was yet another grey area that was finally finding clarity. I know that after this things will change and neither Chan or me want that… but we’ll have to learn to live with it. 

“Your heart's too big Chan, and I can't blame you. It's one of the reasons I fell for you, but you know what's in your heart. It’s obvious you really like her and that’s okay-”

“But I’m hurting you…”

“Deep down I’ve always prepared myself for this. Even if it hurts now, it won’t hurt forever and I’m wholeheartedly overjoyed that you found someone that makes you happy. So let’s stop this already okay?”

“Then why are you crying… stupid…” Chan questioned with a soft voice.

      Damn it… I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. Chan removed my hands from his face as he drew me in for a hug. I rested my forehead on his shoulder, taking in his scent as his warmth encased me. I couldn’t stop myself so I succumbed to the wave of tears that spilled from my eyes, his hoodie balling in my hands as I clung to him. It was a while before my tears stopped but Chan still rubbed circles on my back like he always did whenever I broke down. Once the tears dried and I took a moment for myself to remember this feeling… the feeling of him… I pulled away.

“I wasn’t running away from you. I got a call for a Hollywood film I auditioned for… I have to go to LA for a call back and if it works out I stay. I didn’t want to tell anyone yet in case I don’t end up landing the role you know?”

“Oh my gosh that's amazing," he responded excitedly before the remorse set in, "I’m sorry. This was a big step for you and I made it about myself… I may have thought a bit too much when I found out,” he awkwardly laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You and Minho both. I’m not that dramatic to run away because of a broken heart. Do you not know me Chan?” I tease.

“My bad,” he smiled, “but we are good still… right?” 

“Yes and since you’re here did you want to stay and help me pack?” I asked, poking his side and returning the smile.

“I mean I kind of just bolted out of the dorm so why not, I’m getting in trouble anyways.”

[grasslandgirl]

oooo i sent it more as a fix prompt but also from one adhdhead to another i’m glad we agree!! thinking about sam and peter study dates

ahhhh fvbjsjvkbjf im so dumb i’m sorry i saw “adhd sam” and my brain just yelled YEAH. RADICAL. and that was it kjdvskfj 

that being said i’ve been haunted by ricky montgomery’s Line Without a Hook + eldonado since yesterday so........ hmmm.... (oh no this got wildly out of hand)

-----------

Peter threw himself wholeheartedly into anything he worked on. It was just how he was built. Peter was either on or he was off, and it was hard to get him to change course once he was en route. Head down, eyes narrowed, his whole body angled down at his computer like if he got his face close enough to the screen, it would start streaming information right to and from his brain. His hair would flop, unnoticed, into his eyes and he would shove his glasses so far up his nose that Sam would worry he was going to bruise his nose. 

All this to say, of course, that study dates were something of an occupational hazard when you were best friends with Peter Maldonado.

And also secretly in love with him.

Well, mostly-secretly. Secretly to Peter, and probably only Peter, because Sam was 90% sure everyone else was in on the secret and knew how hopelessly gone Sam was for his oblivious best friend. Gabi was the only one who ever said anything to him about it, though. So, little victories. 

Finals were looming over their heads like a dark storm cloud. Looming on the horizon, fucking with barometric pressure just enough to make everyone jumpy and nervous. Peter worked well under pressure- which was a good thing, because Sam knew Peter put more pressure on himself than anyone else did- but he would always show up the night before a big exam and demand that Sam help him study. It was so commonplace after seven years of friendship that Sam didn’t question it anymore. Mostly.

There was always that small, hopeful, and nervous voice in the back of his head asking why Peter always studied with Sam when he studied just as well on his own. The only answer he could think of was that Peter knew Sam studied better with him there. But that wasn’t- that couldn’t- Sam always shut that annoying little voice down before it spiraled any further.

It didn’t do anyone any good to overcomplicate things that were objectively very simple. Peter liked routine, they were best friends, Sam was the only one who could talk Peter down from an academics-induced panic attack at 2 in the morning the night before a final exam. 2 + 2 = 4. Simple math. 

Sam was slumped on his back, halfway falling off his bed with his head and shoulders draped over the side of his mattress. The notebook he was supposed to be reviewing was abandoned, sitting on his stomach. Peter was sitting at Sam’s desk, leaned over and scowling at his laptop. 

It was unfair, really, how pretty Peter looked illuminated by the blue-white light of his notes document. Sam had the perfect view of Peter’s upside down profile, all furrowed eyebrows and clenched jaw and dark hair that’d had hands run through it too many times. It was late and Sam’s brain was wrung out and exhausted, only able to focus on Peter’s expression as he mouthed whatever obsolete moment in history he was trying to commit to memory, and the looping chorus of a Carly Rae Jepsen song he’d had stuck in his head for the last two hours. 

A big part of being friends with Peter Maldonado was knowing when to draw the line. 

“Pete, dude.” Peter looked up, blinking away the lines of notes Sam could almost see in his eyes. “It’s the middle of the night. Either we know it or we don’t at this point.”

“You think we should cut our losses?”

“I know you can survive on three hours of sleep and five cups of coffee, dude, but I can’t.” Sam tapped himself on the forehead. “This baby needs r&r or I can’t fucking function.”

“Right, right. What time is it?”

Sam sat up- an impressive showcase of his abs that Peter didn’t notice, of course- and dug around in his rumpled comforter for his phone. “12:30.”

Peter sighed heavily, tipping his head back against the headrest of Sam’s computer chair. “I should go home.”

“Dude. Just-” Sam was his own worst enemy sometimes- “just spend the night.”

“Yeah? Your moms won’t mind?”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure they assumed that’s what was happening when you showed up after dinner.”

It was probably just a weird reflection from the computer light on one of Sam’s posters onto Peter’s face. There was no way that Peter was blushing. 

“Anyway,” he continued, shoving his textbook and notes off of his bed instead of looking at Peter, “I’m gonna drive you tomorrow anyway, right? Saves me a trip.”

Peter closed his laptop with a soft click. “Yeah, sure, if it’s not-”

“It’s cool, dude, don’t be weird. Just two bros-”

“Chilling in a hot tub?”

Sam prayed Peter couldn’t see the hot blush he felt rising to his cheeks. Five feet apart cause they’re not gay. “Whatever you want, dude.”

Peter knew Sam was gay. He was the first person Sam had come out to- followed closely by Gabi and his moms. But there was a difference, Sam was sure, to having your best friend be gay versus having your best friend be gay and in love with you. An invisible line in the sand that would shift their relationship forever. Sam didn’t want to test how that shift would happen. Didn’t want to risk losing his best friend on the off chance that he wasn’t alone. 

“Right.” Peter repeated. 

They went to bed in pieces: Sam pulling on an old pair of sweatpants and throwing one to Peter, Peter neatly stacking all his notes on one corner of Sam’s desk, Sam kicking all his schoolwork to the edges of his bedroom floor as opposed to the middle of it, Peter brushing his teeth with the same toothbrush he’d kept in the Ecklund house since they were ten, Sam turning off all the lights, Peter wandering back into his bedroom, Peter’s hair turning to gold and ink in the faint streetlight coming in from the window, the two of them curling up back to back in Sam’s bed just like they always did.

And then it was dark and quiet and all Sam could hear was the faint sound of Peter’s breathing beside him. The warmth from Peter’s back mere inches from Sam’s. They’d fallen asleep next to each other a million times, but Sam still felt electric with the proximity. How easy it would be to just- stretch his legs out and wind his feet with Peter’s, to flip over and press his nose into the soft place where his hairline met the back of his neck, to whisper something hopeful and mortifying into the still night air and hear Peter’s breath catch in silent response.

Sam stayed still, held himself perfectly motionless lest he finally show his hand. And eventually, they both fell asleep.

-------------------------

Peter woke up surrounded by Sam. The pillow he’d pressed his face into smelled like Sam’s hair and the sheets on his bed were the same tacky Star Wars ones he’d been so proud of in the seventh grade and the bed was warm with Sam’s body next to him. For an instant, Peter let himself consider it: waking up next to Sam like this every day. Falling asleep with his arms wrapped around Sam and waking up with his head on his chest. 

He squeezed his eyes shut against the glaring dawn light, and against the daydream that quickly threatened to spin out of control. He could still hear Sam’s sleep heavy breathing behind him.

Slowly, Peter sat up in bed, pushing his hair out of his face and scrounging the nightstand as quietly as he could for his glasses. He allowed himself a single glance at Sam- sleep soft and sprawled out on the bed, his hand inches from where Peter’s shoulder had been, like he’d been reaching out in his sleep- before standing up and grabbing his phone from where he’d left it charging on the desk.

“Sam.” Peter poked his shoulder. “Sam.”

He groaned incoherently, but rolled over, which was a good sign. 

“You have to get up, dude.”

“Breakfast?” Sam mumbled.

“Yeah,” Peter laughed a little, “I’m sure your mom’s making breakfast.”

“Urrgghhh.”

Peter grabbed the clothes he’d left in the corner the night before and pulled an old t shirt out of Sam’s closet. “I’m stealing a shirt.”

“Oh,” Sam said, half sitting up and blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “Yeah- good, okay.”

“I’m gonna go-” Peter gestured weakly towards the door, and beyond it, the bathroom. Sam peered up at him, the light from the window hitting his face in a single pane, like something out of a sun-soaked French movie. Like this was the moment where one of them broke the uncertainty, the silence. Peter could see the scene unfolding in his mind’s eye, like he’d seen it a hundred times. He’d say something like, did you sleep well? And Sam would answer, better with you here, and Peter would oh-so-slowly close the distance and drop his jeans to the floor and Sam would arch up and meet him halfway and the camera would pan away, leaving them both washed in the golden early-morning light. “Bathroom. I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” Peter said, and closed the bedroom door behind him. 

He splashed water on his face and combed through his hair with his fingers, throwing on yesterday’s jeans and Sam’s t shirt under his sweatshirt and hoping it wasn’t obvious to anyone else how badly Peter wished every morning could be like this. 

He left the bathroom quickly and perched on the edge of Sam’s bed, scrolling through twitter while Sam did his hair in the bathroom. 

Breakfast was quiet and normal and filled with the usual mini-dramas in the Ecklund house. Kara didn’t want PB&J for lunch and one of Sam’s moms left the flat iron on in their bathroom and Leah almost burned the eggs and Sam spent half of breakfast finishing the math homework he’d almost forgotten he had. 

Sam drove them both to school early for the Morning Show, laughing and singing along to his “perfectly composed drive to school playlist,” and the rest of the day went on normally. He took his history test and saw Sam in math class and they sat with Ming and Randall and Phil at lunch. 

But all the while, Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. He’d had... feelings for Sam for a while, unquantifiable and nebulous. He’d categorized them all: the way his stomach twisted when Sam smiled at him crookedly, the skipped beat of his heart when Sam slung his arm around Peter’s shoulders, how his hands got clammy when he caught Sam watching him out of the corner of his eye, how he always found ways to hangout during and after school. But he’d never dared to name the feeling. Defining it meant- meant he should do something about it. Made it real. 

But that morning, waking up next to Sam, borrowing his t shirt to wear to school, falling asleep next to each other- they were all things they’d done a million times before. Peter’s chest ached with the normalcy, the domesticity of it. 

Peter’s fingers itched to try and piece it all together, his feelings and Sam’s and their history together. String it all together on a corkboard until it made sense. But Peter knew it wouldn’t work. Not without Sam there to see the bigger picture in the first place. It’s why they worked so well together; Peter would gather and organize all the information, but Sam was the one that knew how to put it together, knew how to see the forest from the trees in a way Peter never could on his own. Even if he tried to map out the snarl of feelings in his chest, Peter knew he’d be left with a labyrinth of post-its and red string without Sam there to untangle it for him.

Dramatic irony, he supposed.

Peter caught the bus home, Sam had something for theatre after school, and spent the entire ride with his music turned as high as it would go, trying not to think about Sam as he stared out the window. 

The problem, Peter realized, with being a self-professed movie lover, is that your brain starts to treat life like a movie. He could imagine a dozen different ways his life could spiral out from this moment, a dozen different movie time-lines he could find himself in. The tragedy, where he never tells Sam and lives his entire life in uncertainty. The drama, where he tells Sam and it tears their friendship apart. The tragic love story, where he and Sam are together and happy until they’re not. The comedy, where Sam laughs him off and they go back to their friendship with a tiny crack between them, spackled over with laughter that’s just a little strained. 

The romantic comedy, where everything goes perfect and they ride out into the sunset. 

Life wasn’t like the movies, though, nothing ever went as simple or as straightforward or as cinematic. There isn’t a director behind the camera who can call cut and change the scene halfway through. There aren’t any sweeping cinematic shots with atmospheric indie pop playing in the background.

It was just Peter, and Sam, and the creeping uncertainty hanging between them. 

Right before dinner that night, Peter got a text from Sam.

sam: thanks for the study help last night, felt good about the test today

sam: don’t stress i know youre freaking out about it too

sam: you did great on the test pete i know it

Peter blinked at his phone, at the unspoken I know you hidden inbetween the lines. Sam knew him better than anyone, knew his habits and his worries and his annoying little tendencies. And he was still there. 

And that, Peter realized, said more than anything else.

Love wasn’t a panoramic of a passionate kiss at sunset. It was knowing someone, learning them backwards and forwards, all the good and the bad pieces of them. It was staying, not despite everything, but because of it.

Peter loved him. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

--------------------

The doorbell rang at the end of dinner. Sam rushed to get to the door before his sisters- if he was lucky, it was their batty old neighbor Mrs Gorschtt and she would prattle on for fifteen minutes about her cat, shove a cake into Sam’s hands, and get him out of having to help clean the kitchen.

But when he opened the door, it wasn’t Mrs Gorschtt standing on the front porch, it was Peter. 

“Hey, dude, what’s up? We don’t have like a math test tomorrow I blanked on, do we?”

“Huh?” Peter blinked at him, “No, no.”

“So, what’s up?” Sam stepped out onto the porch beside Peter, closing the front door behind him. Maybe he could still get out of washing the dinner dishes. 

“Uh- so, the thing is-” Peter muttered, twisting one of the strings from his hoodie between his fingers. Sam’s stomach dropped; something was wrong. Peter was nervous, uncertain about something. He wasn’t looking Sam in the eye, and he had one arm wrapped around his stomach like a shield. His head started spinning with a million different things Peter could be upset about, but the thing Sam kept coming back to- he knew.

Somehow, Peter had finally figured him out. And he was coming to tell Sam- what? That they couldn’t be friends anymore? That Sam had made it weird? 

“Pete-” Sam started, trying to cover his bases, trying to fix this before his best friendship in the world went up in flames.

“You’re the only one who calls me that.” Peter interrupted, finally looking at Sam.

“What?”

“Pete. You’re the only one.”

“I- we’re friends, dude, I’m allowed to have nicknames.” Sam tried to laugh, but it sounded forced, even to his ears.

“I- I know,” Peter’s eyebrows were furrowed, and he was staring at Sam like he was a page of history notes he was trying to memorize. “I got your text.”

“Oh, uh okay.”

“Sammy, I uh, I have to say something, and I want you to promise you’ll let me finish.”

Sam’s stomach dropped even further. Here it was. The end of everything. “Right,” he tried to smile at Peter, “sure dude, whatever you need.”

Peter nodded. “You’ve been my best friend since the fifth grade. You know all of my secrets, all the bad things that I don’t tell anyone else. You know that I don’t like orange-flavored things because I had too much orange-flavored medicine as a child and that I stay up too late studying the night before a test and I panic after I finish taking it. You watch movies I recommend, even though you think High School Musical 2 is the best movie ever made, you- god-” Peter scrubs his hands through his hair, clenching his eyes closed briefly- “this would be so much easier if I could just- you can see the big picture. Like with this you could just- take the words, the discrete pieces of data and put them together. Make it cohesive, coherent. I’m not making sense,” he muttered.

“Pete-”

“I don’t want to just spend the night after study dates.” Peter blurted out abruptly. His face froze, like he wasn’t sure what he just said, like he was terrified Sam was going to misunderstand. “I- I mean. I want to do real dates. With you. And spend the night and wear your clothes and have my hoodies smell like you and watch you spin around in the morning show chairs without having to worry about you catching me and I want to see you without gel in your hair and I want to lean against you when we have movie nights and-”

“Pete.”

“Sammy,” Peter said, kind of breathless. “Go on a date with me.”

“Like a study date?” Sam said, also kind of breathless.

“Like a date-date. Please.”

“Yeah. Yeah, just- come here-” and then Sam’s hands were on either side of Peter’s face and his fingers were in his hair and Peter’s hands were caught in Sam’s sweater and then-

Peter kissed like he didn’t know all the answers, for once, and he was okay with it. Peter kissed like he was memorizing everything about the moment. Peter kissed like he was planning on replaying it like an old video tape, over and over until the tape wore thin and tore. Peter kissed like he could hear the orchestra playing behind them, like they were in some cheesy made for tv rom com and were about to get their happy ending.

Peter kissed like Sam was his happy ending.

Finally, they broke apart- more to catch their breath than anything else. 

“Hell of a study date,” Sam breathed, unable to stop smiling.

“Shut up.” Peter was smiling, too.

And, leaning back in, Sam did.

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Black Lives Matter, @butsamsd donated $50, and requested Sam/Dean/Jack. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

After the craziness of their Halloween hunt, it’s good to be back in Kansas. Dean isn’t totally whole, probably won’t be for a while--Sam knows what it’s like to be possessed better than just about anyone else alive, he knows what the aftereffects are. Still, the hunt--getting out of his room, getting away from it all--Sam knows that it helped, too, and Dean’s happier on that drive home than he’s been in weeks, and even the crowd of cars parked up in front of the bunker don’t dim his grin, still wheedling Sam to try to get him to agree to a couple costume, for some future Halloween Dean’s thinking they might both see.

“Daphne and Velma,” Dean offers, parking the Impala in her pride of place down in the garage, and Sam squints at him, trying not to laugh, says, “Which one of us is Velma?” and Dean says, reproachfully, “Sam, please take this seriously,” and Sam looks around the empty garage, and pulls Dean in by that stupid plaid jacket, and kisses him soft, right there, because they’re--home. They’re finally home.

Dean blinks at him, when he pulls back. Surprised, uncertainly pleased. They haven’t really messed around, since he got Dean back from Michael. There was that first night, desperate and pressing together, and they had to be near-silent and it was more of an insane desperate renewing of something they’d both always promised each other than something that actually felt good. Otherwise--Dean too hurt, and trying to pretend he wasn’t, and the bunker too full, and things not right. Things still aren’t right but Sam thinks they can both live with them. “Think I’ll take a shower,” Sam says, pulling back to his side of the bench seat. “Then--my room?”

Dean breathes, presses Sam’s hand low on the bench where no one would be able to see, even if there were someone in the garage with them. “Sounds good to me, Sammy,” he says, and Sam squeezes his thumb, and gets out and heads into the bunker, smiling at the few refugees he sees, thinking--this is it. They really are home, at last.

Not all that many people around, really. Mom’s gone, like she usually is anymore, and Sam’s long-since reconciled himself to it. Cas in the wind, too, and what’s left is a half-dozen of the people Sam’s been training who aren’t on hunts, and he and Dean got back late enough that most of them are in bed, anyway, in the bunked-out rooms they reserved for themselves. Just Roland left up, manning the phones and watching Friends reruns on Netflix, and Sam waves at him but doesn’t stop, because--because Dean’s going to be waiting for him, and that knowledge is a heavy beating thrum in Sam’s blood.

Shower room’s empty, thank god. Sam strips out of the nerd gear, drops it all on the bench below the towel rack. Under the showerhead, that instant blast of heat and pressure carving the lingering worry of the hunt out of his shoulders, and he stands there for a second, soaking. Imagining. Dean, in his room, in the gold light. Dean’s skin under his hands. Everything else falling away. He drags his hands through his hair, decides to wash it another day because he can’t wait another ten minutes, and when he turns around under the stream of water there’s--Jack, standing there in his pajamas and bare feet, watching him.

Sam starts, moves a little out of the water. “Jack, hey,” he says, smiling--a little awkward, he bets, but Jack probably can’t tell. The showers are old-school open pans, not exactly private, but most people know not to just come in and watch when someone else is using them. Then again, Jack’s not most people. “You all right? Thought you were asleep.”

“I’m okay,” Jack says, and smiles. A little wan, maybe, a little pale, but he’s been different since Lucifer stole his grace. Sam’s still rinsing off suds, and Jack tracks his eyes down Sam’s body--deliberate, really looking, and Sam goes still. Jack nods, like he’s made a decision, and looks Sam in the eye. “Sam, I’d like it if we could have sex.”

Sam drops his washcloth with a splat. “What?”

Jack smiles, soft. “I thought that might seem weird,” he says, easy, but he also--strips off his t-shirt, and his pajama pants, and then he’s--jesus, naked, all of him right there, and he steps up into the shower pan and walks closer, makes Sam back up against the wall out of pure shock. “I know that isn’t the way our relationship has been going, but I think it’s something I need.”

“Jack,” Sam starts, and can only--laugh, kind of, like it’s some weird demented joke. “Buddy, this isn’t--I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

A tiny beat. Jack licks his lips. He’s not in the stream of still-running water and his body’s all smooth, pale. Perfect. Sam glances down, can’t help it, and Jack’s dick isn’t hard--just another perfect piece of him, soft and pink and curved gently over his balls, in a sparse nest of fine hair barely darker than the golden hair on his head. Cherub, Sam thinks, not for the first time, and then Jack puts his hand square in the center of Sam’s chest, over his sternum. Sam hitches in air, completely thrown. “I’ve just been thinking,” Jack says, softer. “All of the--stuff. Humans get to learn all of this when they’re growing up, but I’m already grown up and no one would ever--no one would get that. Nobody understands.”

“That’s--” Sam starts, and grabs Jack’s wrist. Soft, slipping under his wet hand. “You have to get to know people, Jack. Girls, or--or boys, I guess. Your own age, you know? This stuff doesn’t just happen automatically.”

“No one else is sixteen months old with a fully functional body and brain,” Jack says, reproachful, and Sam doesn’t have a lot to say to that, but then Jack’s mouth twists, somehow--sad. “I just want--I want to know what it’s like. At least once.”

Sam frowns--what does that mean?--but Jack shakes his head, and moves in closer, and puts both hands on Sam’s chest. “Sam,” he says, soft, and Sam should--should push him away, should demand answers, should ask why Jack doesn’t think he has other chances--only the door opens, and Dean says, “Sammy, what’s taking so long,” and Sam looks up over Jack’s head to find Dean there in the bathroom doorway, mouth half-open, staring at them.

“Dean,” Jack says, sounding glad. “You’re here.”

“Yeah, I am,” Dean says, slowly, and looks Sam in the eyes. He shakes his head, not knowing what to say. Dean’s in his undershirt, flannel pants, and he takes a step closer. “What’s up, kiddo?”

“I want to know what sex is like,” Jack says, again, firm, and Dean’s face does a thing that’d make Sam laugh any other time. “I asked Sam, but I want to know from you, too.”

“Kid,” Dean starts, but Jack shakes his head, looks back and forth between them, says, impossibly, “I know that you both have sex. With each other, I mean. It shouldn’t be a big deal for you to show me.”

“How did you know that?” Sam says, past the weird ringing in his ears. God, the shower’s still running. He shuts it off, and Dean’s just staring at Jack, his mouth set and his eyes narrow.

“My senses were better when I had my grace,” Jack says, shrugging, and looks up at Sam. “Castiel said I shouldn’t mention it, but it seems like--you know what you’re doing.” He looks at Dean, while Sam’s trying to dig himself out of the pit of what both of those statements mean. “I just...” he says, and he’s--so lost little kid, for a second. Immensely young, and sad, and Dean’s face changes again, settles.

“Why us?” Dean says, guarded.

Jack shrugs, again. He doesn’t even look turned on--just miserable, and there’s a wry curve to his mouth. “Who else could I trust?” he says, and Sam puts a hand on his bare shoulder. Something’s going on--something they should dig into.

Dean tips his head back a little, looks at Jack with full attention. His lips part, after a second, like he’s seeing something Sam doesn’t, and there’s a wash of compassion across his face. He looks up at Sam, and Sam thinks, something unlocking under his chest--this isn’t a good idea. They’re going to do it anyway.

*

The door to Sam’s room locks behind them. Silent, but Jack’s not nervous because he doesn’t know what to expect. Other than-- “I watched a pornographic video,” he says, and Dean closes his eyes and mutters jesus christ. “But it had a woman and a man, and I guess we can’t do those same things.”

“Some of ‘em,” Dean says, easy, and Sam leans his back against the door, holding his towel around his waist with what remains of his strength. Dean pulls Jack into the middle of the room, looks at him steady. “Jack. What are you--what do want to get out of this?”

Good question--better question than a lot of the ones Sam has. Jack frowns, seems like he really thinks about it. “I want to know--I mean, I’ve--with my hand,” he says, unexpectedly shy. Sam drags in a deep breath, imagining it. “But I don’t know what it’s like with someone else. In books they say it’s better with someone who loves you. You and Sam have that.”

Sam catches Dean’s eye. “Yeah,” Dean says, gruff, and then turns his full attention onto Jack, and smiles. Small, but full of promise. “You say the second you want anything to stop, all right?” he says, and his voice is--Sam’s gut revs, because he knows that voice. Dean, when he’s not laying it on thick as a charmer but when he knows someone wants him, and Jack blinks and nods, eager, and Dean lifts both hands and strokes his thumbs along Jack’s smooth jaw, gentle and easy, and then ducks and inch and kisses him, smooth and confident and simple, and Sam feels like the bottom drops out of his stomach.

Dean knows how to kiss. Sam knows that better than just about anyone, too. Jack makes a startled noise, clutches alternately at Dean’s shirt, his arms, and when Dean pulls back to let him breathe Jack’s chest is already heaving, his face all surprise. “Good?” Dean says, and Jack nods, more jerky than before, and Dean smiles at him, cupping his face. “Good,” Dean says, and catches Sam’s eye, and Sam walks over while Dean kisses Jack again, smooth, and again, soft and constant pressure, and Sam thinks with a burst of total insanity--this is like when Dean taught him to kiss, what feels like a million years ago--and he walks up behind Jack and holds his waist, watches up close. Soft, but insistent, and Jack’s hand creeps up to Dean’s neck like instinct’s driving it, his mouth following Dean’s lead like he’s learned everything they taught him, quick and eager. Dean makes a small, approving sound, and runs his knuckles over Jack’s cheek, and on the next press in he opens Jack’s mouth with his own and Sam sees the wet glance of Dean’s tongue and Jack moans, startled, and Sam dips and presses a kiss to his neck, says, “God, that’s good, Jack--you’re doing so good.”

Dean pulls back, mutters jesus again--grabs the back of Sam’s head and pulls him down and kisses him, too, over Jack’s shoulder, and Sam’s pulled close enough that his dick presses into Jack’s ass, and he breathes hot into Dean’s mouth and rubs his thumb in that soft sweet spot just below his ear, and god, this is--weird, weird, so goddamn weird but it doesn’t feel wrong, and Sam’s done a lot in his life that felt wrong and he knows the difference.

“Wow,” Jack says, small, and Dean laughs, pulls back from Sam and cups Jack’s cheek.

“Wow is right,” Dean says, warm with promise, and Sam knows then--whatever Jack wants, they’ll give him. They taught him everything else. It doesn’t have to be anything more than what it is. Anyway--it’s not like it’s something that’d come between Dean and Sam. Nothing ever will again.

Dean looks at Sam, expression as soft as though he heard the thought. “You ready for more?” he says, and Jack nods, so eager it makes Sam grin. Yeah, he’s ready. It’s going to be a good night.

[the-roanoke-society]

i was working in the lab late one night...

when my eyes beheld an eerie sight...

welcome to the final post of horror aus for halloween 2020! i hope you all enjoyed the ride. i apologize for not having everything ready on halloween like i originally planned. remember that the inbox and dms are always open for questions, comments and concerns. if you missed them, here are parts one, two and three. all warnings still apply, so be forewarned.

i know things are scary right now. but to quote the infamous n. gaiman: fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.

take it from me when i say that we outnumber the monsters of this world--and more importantly, take heart.

click below the cut if you, too, like doing the monster mash (no offense but it is kind of a graveyard smash...)

there’s bloodstains beneath the carpet - a ∆ au inspired by the super, co-starring technical officer drake and @agents-of-virtue​'s agent annabelle

it was a new start. for both drew and matthew. a new city, shining with opportunities and adventure. they had no shortage of hope--but maybe did have a little shortage of cash.

all the same, the knox-edwards boarding house wasn’t that bad. grimy and with a level of grunge akin to a garage band circa 1995, sure, but nothing unbearable.

but as drew was stuck in the hallway holding up their couch, matthew trying to figure out who needed to pivot and in what direction in order to not have furniture stuck in the doorway, he overheard it:

“what? another one? are you serious?”

two people were walking down the hallway, and they didn’t look to be much older than himself, or matthew. a man and woman, close together, as if they were conspiring.

“wait, drew, i think i got it, turn left a little bit--”

“as a heart attack. that makes it four people in three months. i’m telling you bekah, something fuckin’ weird in goin’ on here. people don’t just up and vanish from their own homes, and--oh!”

“drew! are you listening to me? turn it left!”

oh shit. oh shit. don’t act like you were obviously eavesdropping, maybe they didn’t notice...

“drew!”

“hi!”

welp. all right. be cool.

“uh--hello!” but he yelped when matthew unexpectedly let go of the couch, and it landed on the ground with a hard thud.

but drew was still processing what he heard. four people in three months? what did that mean?

mini soundtrack sampler includes: rockwell, ‘somebody’s watching me’ + absofacto, ‘dissolve’ + barns courtney, ‘99′

won’t you cut me down? - a second chances au inspired by seven in heaven

joan, normally, wasn’t so forward. at least, not a society-thrown event where multiple agencies were represented, and especially not when he knew lilith was around and not above reprimanding an agent in front of god and everyone else in the room.

but he’d had quite a bit to drink.

the evening was winding down.

and josie... josie was breathtaking.

he couldn’t help it.

“joan--joan!” she laughed as he turned her, taking her elbow and leading her down a hallway close to one of the larger coat closets. “what are you d--”

her voice cut off abruptly to the tune of joan’s mouth on hers, and the closing of a closet door.

joan didn’t stop to think about how this particular door wasn’t room he distinctly remembered. he was tipsy and enamored and his wife consumed his senses. he didn’t care.

but he did care a while later, after they’d made themselves presentable again and opened the door to a manor that was much, much quieter than he was expecting.

and josie felt it too.

it was an odd sensation, to feel that he’d stepped out of one place and into another entirely.

josie asked quietly, “where... where did everyone go?”

mini soundtrack sampler includes: jack white, ‘i’m shakin’‘ + konrad old money & sleep steady, ‘rage’ + k. flay, ‘blood in the cut’

my hands are growing colder - an inverse functions au inspired by eli

ginny knew erik wasn’t broken. she would rather have faced down a demon or some unholy thing sprung out of the gate than ever describe him like that.

but he was--unique.

beyond the understanding of most medical doctors, at least. even aly and caroline were struggling to treat his symptoms. it was like he’d become allergic to everything around him over the course of just a few days. his symptoms were sudden, severe, and left her nervous.

it wasn’t just allergies. she knew that. and if she had to seek help outside of the society, then so be it. all that mattered to her was seeing him brought back to health.

and late one night, during a despair-fueled search through some files in the archives that looked like they hadn’t been touched in years, she found a name: dr. isabella horn.

the fact that lacey, who’d been overseeing the roanoe medical wards for ages, hadn’t heard of her, should have been a warning.

but desperate times call for desperate measures.

the next day, they were on their way to a facility in the middle of the midwest--though ‘facility’ wasn’t quite the right word. it looked more like a mansion, with nothing but wheat fields all around as far as they eye could see. the horizon was only broken by the occasional oil derrick.

and they were surprised when they had to be buzzed through pressurized, completely sterile chambers to even get inside.

but there, right at the front of the welcoming committee, was a woman with dark eyes, and an easy smile.

“good afternoon! you must be ginny and erik, welcome. i’m dr. horn.”

but ginny didn’t trust her grin.

and that should have been the second warning.

mini soundtrack sampler includes: stevie wonder, ‘superstitious’ + the killers, ‘when you were young’ + the revivalists, ‘wish i knew you’

i saw your bones on the road - a pastel goth au inspired by the silence

meli would look back on it and realize with no small sense of irony how loud it was when it began.

the screaming, the terror. how she blasted her spotify on her furious drive to guiliana’s house in the blessedly quiet suburbs, eyes constantly searching the sky. she knew that the responsible thing to do would be to listen to the coverage on the radio, but honestly? she’d heard enough. she had more than half a brain, and she knew exactly what to do.

get her girlfriend and head--okay, maybe she didn’t know exactly what to do.

but giuliana was smart. they’d figure it out together.

the government didn’t know what they were, exactly. nobody did. meli only knew that they were calling them vesps.

it was a word that she mulled over frantically. linguistics was always a welcome distraction. she thought she’d heard it before, but all she could think of was the latin vespere. it roughly translated to ‘from the evening,’ or ‘from the night.’

from the dark.

perhaps that was an apt name.

the sunset had painted the sky in shades that were obnoxiously beautiful given the circumstances, and her jeep lurched in protest as she abruptly slammed the gear shift into park in the glow of guiliana’s porch lights.

in the distance, she could hear shrieking--but not that of human beings.

mini soundtrack sampler includes: mourning ritual, ‘bad moon rising’ + twenty one pilots, ‘ride’ + royal blood, ‘trouble’s coming’

waiting for the vultures - a time traveler’s husband au inspired by the houses october built

it had been dara’s idea.

“oh it’ll be fun! think about it, italy and the states celebrate halloween with way, way different aesthetics. think of this as getting a sampler of how america does it,” she said, sitting in silvano’s lap, charm volume as far up as it would go.

and he agreed. “all right--okay. a grand adventure across the country hitting as many haunted houses as we can.”

“geez, try not to sound too excited.”

he murmured into her shoulder, “i’m mostly excited to spend time with you. but if a road trip through october is what you want, then that’s exactly what we’ll do.”

he was rewarded with kisses peppered all over his face and a very excited dara dragging him excitedly to best buy to pick up a camcorder. “what? of course we need a camera! if we record everything then it’s like--i don’t know. like it’s ours. we can go back to it whenever want, and we can show all our friends the cool places we saw when we get home!”

dara hadn’t known then.

she didn’t know it would start with one lone figure in a clown costume standing in front of the rv like he was going to charge at it. she didn’t know that they would end up surrounded, followed. abducted.

it had been dara’s idea.

and she would never forgive herself.

mini soundtrack sampler includes: van halen, ‘runnin’ with the devil’ + the 1975, ‘if you’re too shy (let me know)’ + afi, ‘miss murder’

[queenlokibeth]

I wanted to mention a couple of things about mental health that I think are important.

I'm doing relatively well at the moment. I've managed to go to bed before 2am most days, usually at midnight, and I've gotten 6-7 hours of sleep every night. I've eaten at least 2 full proper meals at reasonable times every day. I haven't turned in any homework late. I have to consciously fight off executive dysfunction but I do manage to win. I'm doing relatively well, which is how I notice just how badly I was doing just a month and a half ago.

What I want to say is that, when you're going through a rough mental health patch (especially if that patch is like a year or more) you might be aware that "sure, yeah, I'm not doing well" but it can also sort of feel like that's just... the way it is.

In December I consciously knew that I was having an awful time, quite probably the deepest hole in terms of mental health in my life, but I had also already been living like that for almost a year, and I transitioned into this hole more or less slowly. So last December I knew that I wasn't feeling or behaving the way that I did a year before that, but it wasn't a drastic change, I eased into that pit. Think about that metaphor about dropping a frog into boiling water and it will jump out, but slowly boil it and it won't notice and die.

I was conscious about the big things: for some reason I physically couldn't get myself to start tasks. I was distracted all the time. My sleeping schedule was something like 4am-10am when I wasn't pulling an all-nighter. I was showering once a week, did laundry every 6 weeks, and lost a lot of weight. I didn't want to do anything and I had no will to go outside. I wanted to read a book but not out of real pursuit of fun, but because I felt like I desperstely needed to catch a break and force myself to do something nice for myself. What I was obviously not conscious of was what was causing all of this.

Being in a pit of terrible mental health feels somehow even worse when you are fully aware that you're completely unhealthy, and you can pinpoint all the things that aren't working right, and you try to do all the correct things to "go back to normal", but you can't, and after a year you don't really remembers what your normal feelings or reactions to things were. In this awful state I was trying to manifest a version of myself who got her shit together and showered regularly and turned homework in on time and did laundry without it taking the same effort as hiking up a mountain, but this version of myself still had the same mental state, numbness, and mental fog, since that's all I knew at the time and I couldn't remember or understand that that's not my default state as a human being. And under that cloud of malfunctioning mental connections and chemicals I was NEVER going to manage to start functioning like a healthy person again.

Why am I pointing out all of this? Because it can be hard to realise how different things can be when you start getting healthier. There are factors of my personality that I hadn't even identified as altered in December.

I'm noticing this now because I did somehow transitioned into recovering extremely quickly. While it took me a few months to fall into a shit state of mental health, and then stayed there for like a year, now in about 3 weeks to a month I flipped my life around and everything is so much... brighter.

I don't mean for this to sound like an ad a la "you can, too, flip your life around!" But as reassurance that getting better is an option, and even a "quick" one, but obviously not without help, and not without PHYSICAL aspecrs. During that month I spent time in warmer weather, seeing sun semi regularly (I had not been outside for longer than 15 minutes at a time every few days in extremely cloudy weather for a few months at that point), I didn't have school so I didn't have to stress about a destroying amount of deadlines, I "recovered" sleep (the first day I slept for 14 hours, then 10 for a few days, and then dropped to 8 consistently), I ate healthy and hearty food, and I had conversations daily with my parents, after having been completely alone for about 7 months of not talking to anyone. During the first 2 weeks I still felt like a mess, the third week was better, and by the end of the month I felt vaguely functional.

By now I'm in no way fully better but Everything Is So Different. Now I'm realising and coming back to the way I always used to behave and feel about things. I find real joy in things and I hadn't even noticed that for a year I had NOT felt joy about ANYTHING I was merely using things to cope! And I hadn't noticed because I could no longer remember that a different feeling beyond "neutral" existed!

I'm excited about going outside now even if it's so so cold, I realised the other day that I needed something from the store and I just... put on my coat and went to the door? And i surprised myself mid step that it was just... that easy. I wanted to go somewhere and I could just... go. I didn't have to psych myself up for 3 days and then end up delaying my departure by 2 hours because that's how long it took me to find the will to put my shoes on.

Anyways I saw a candle and it was only $2 and it smelled really good and I just bought it because I deserve things that make me happy and then I bought some cinnamon flavoured coffee because I WANTED to try it and I also bought this coffee creamer that I saw because suddenly it was easy to just reach into the grocery store fridge and pull it out instead of planning it a week in advance and then overthinking it because do I really need it do I have space in the fridge am I going to finish it or will it expire first only to get overwhelmed and leave the store without it only to immediately regret it and get sad about not getting it once I arrived back to my room. I enjoy drinking my coffee now, I'm not just doing it to stay awake. I can actually get out of bed at the right time even if I'm still a bit tired because the sun is coming up and it looks pretty outside. It snowed yesterday and everyone was out at night playing with it and a stray snowball reached me while I was on my way to get dinner. This poor guy that I'd never seen apologised profusely and it was so funny! There was something about everyone in masks and standing 6 feet apart taking advantage of snowball fights as a way to interact with each other that felt straight out of a Hallmark movie.

Bottomline: at your worst there isn't anything that looks tangibly better, but there is, and you start to realise it afterwards. While you should definitely go to therapy if you can/need to, and that meds can be necessary, there is so much that you can start slowly fixing (with a lot of effort, I know) that will seriously, seeiously help. I know that it might sound like bullshit or like an oversimplification, but it's true and it's stuff that you'll never truly believe will work until you're doing better and you're like "oh shit damn".

Please sleep. Please sleep at night time and have a semi regular sleeping schedule. I know that it sounds like it won't be enough (and true, by itself it probably won't heal you completely but it will sure help a lot). I would always "understand" that sleep was important and "yes mom i know that I need to sleep better" but I never interiorised how DRAMATICALLY sleep affects your entire life. Regular, good, nighttime sleep helps regulate all the hormones and chemicals that we need. If your fucked up sleeping schedule shut down production of serotonin, congratulations now you have all the awful symptoms that come along with lacking an essential component of your functioning. And I know that it's often a terrible vicious cycle of not being able to sleep properly or procrastinating sleep or being unable to just go to bed causing mental health problems which continue to prevent you from being able to fix youe sleep pattern. Please take it from me, someone who a month ago felt like she'd genuinely never be able to function semi properly again, that forcing yourself to fix your sleep is a HUGE MEGA STEP towards fully recovering. I know it now because I can see the contrast, but a month ago I didn't understand it because I was like "well yeah I need to sleep better but what's the point I'm fine it won't change much" yeah well my brain is an asshole and I was not in fact fine but rather completely empty inside and just going the fuck to sleep semi regularly has made me feel like a real person instead of a weird cryptid for the first time in months. Just go the fuck to sleep, PLEASE.

[cozycryptidcorner]

“This takes place in the universe I’m working on! Some of my followers might recognize the characters, I’m drawn them plenty of times before. I’ve been wanting to actually write the relationship, but have been working on the plotline beyond what ya’ll see in order to do so. I hope you enjoy these two dumbasses as much as I enjoy writing about them!”

This can’t get any worse, AJ thinks, as it inevitably gets… well, worse. At least instead of freely orbiting through the vastness of space, she gets caught in a planet’s gravitational pull, but that opens a whole other can of worms that involves things like possibly burning up in the atmosphere. She doesn’t know if her spacesuit has any kind of heat guards or impact safety measures beyond the basics, but oh boy, she’s about to find out.

Being caught in a gravity well is sort of like how AJ imagines being caught in a whirlpool while completely paralyzed and numb all over. It’s an inevitable sort of horror, though she can’t actually feel friction of any kind, like someone on the outside might think she would be experiencing, her spacesuit at least makes sure of that. From her position, she can see the planet through her tinted visor, a soft, golden shade overtaking everything it possibly can.

There are two possible planets she could land, twins, locked in each other’s gravitational pulls, and she doesn’t know which one claimed her first. Her so-called team briefly stopped in the system, trying desperately to pull the energy of the sun to refuel the damaged warp engine and repair the external damage before the accident.. Her body flips over, tumbling, plunging, flipping head over heels, wholly unsure of the direction she is heading, much less the planet that has decidedly grasped onto her frame and pulls her ever closer. She has thrusters, but they won’t so much when barreling towards the ground at high speed; however, maybe she can angle herself so that she bounces right off the atmosphere bubble?

She has to think over this very quickly. Which sounds worse, floating in a vacuum and hope someone who aren’t the space pirates her crew was running from picks up on her suite’s emergency beacon, or pray her suite can take the impact of a crash and try to make contact with the natives? Tentatively, she tries working her thrusters and quickly realizes by the lack of movement that they must somehow be damaged. Awesome. Incredible. Her day is just getting better and better.

There’s a blinding flash, and she realizes that all other options are now unavailable, because she is now falling to the planet’s ground. She’s also on fire, that’s why it’s suddenly so bright. The light control on her helmet kicks in a moment too late, her eyes ache from being exposed that, but she can’t do anything about it. Her brain fizzles for a moment, and when she opens her eyes again, she realizes that she must have fainted for a few seconds. The systems operator is going insane, flashing messages running across the face shield, one of them politely suggesting that she call for assistance because it appears she’s moving faster than the recommended speed the suit can tolerate without disintegrating.

Helpful advice, but AJ knows that slowing down will probably aid in her survival, so she maneuvers her body around so that she’s parallel to the ground, spreading out her limbs to create surface drag. A warning pops up in front of her face, letting her know that the heat of reentry is melting the outer layer of her suite. She doesn’t even have any time to panic, though, because she’s trying to figure out if there are any sort of functions she can use as a makeshift parachute, something, anything to cause enough drag that will increase her chances of not pancaking into the ground.

It’s so very unbearably hot. AJ’s suit’s internal systems try to let her know, unhelpfully, that the air conditioning is not compensating enough for the external heat. AJ thinks she might start crying but tries her best to keep her shit together so she can focus. A part of her wishes that the impact could be instantaneous, but the ground doesn’t seem to be getting any closer. The descent controllers work, though, miraculously slowing her fall to the point where she is no longer on fire.

She hits her thrusters, hoping they might decide to work now, though nothing happens. Then, miracle of miracles, sees that the option for the descent controllers is still available. Nothing that will guarantee a soft landing, but it might be enough to keep her bones from shattering on the impact. She hits the release and two hexagonal shapes pop out on either side of her, the difference in speeds almost immediate. Her body wobbles uncomfortably, but nothing breaks off, thankfully

One problem is out of the way, but another one is fast approaching. She can’t really control her descent beyond angling her body slightly to fall a little more forward, so it’s not as though she can pick where she’s going to hit. There’s a loud snap as her body rams into a tree, and the damn thing cracks in half as though it were made from weak plastic. There’s a dull pain on her hip, AJ can feel the suit take critical damage, but she doesn’t fucking stop. It’s like she’s chained to a speeding train, her body skidding through the forest, the leaves and branches doing little to stop her, the protective layers of the suit beginning to crack and warp.

AJ can hear the pop of her chest piece as it fractures, and parts of her arm guards begin to rip off. Just as it looks like she’s finally stopping, she slides right off the edge of a cliff, which, incredible! Excellent addition to her day. Water leaks into the cracks of her armor, and her breathing apparatus beeps a warning that it can’t manage to sort oxygen from other harmful molecules anymore. A current sweeps her away, just as merciless as the gravity has, and AJ has to figure out how the fuck to get the helmet off so she has a better chance to breathe.

The weight of what is left of her armor drags her down, but she tries to focus on one dilemma at a time. The release buttons of her helmet are almost welded together, which only leads to further panic, thus speeding up her oxygen use. After a few, shaky moments of being tossed about in the water like a ragdoll, she finally managed to release the helmet, letting it get sucked away by the current. When she manages to find and break the surface, she barely has time to take in two, gulping breaths before her foot catches something, and she’s yanked back under.

She flails, terror building because AJ did not survive a freefall through a planet’s atmosphere just to fucking drown once she hit the ground. Again, she manages to surface, if only for the barest moment, and she quickly goes back down. She tastes blood in her mouth as her chin hits something solid. Then, by some other miracle, she’s again up, jerked roughly from the water, and she can finally breathe as something- or someone- drags her out of the river and onto the grassy banks.

At first, all she can do is sputter any water out of her lungs, too shaken from the river to do anything. A hand sets on her back, and she turns to look over her so-called ‘rescuer’ as a headache fully setting in once she manages to sit up on her own. Actually, everything hits AJ at once, a shudder of pain rippling through her body like a goddamn tsunami. With trembling fingers, she begins to peel away what is left of her armor, side eying the… the person with a curious glance.

He’s remarkably tall, she can tell that just from his kneeling position, his legs slim and long. His gaze holds hers, eyes wide, pupils small, as though he sees a ghost, which AJ supposes if fair. This is most likely his first time seeing someone from outside his world, his shock is understanding. AJ is, after all, completely desensitized to all things’ alien,’ she can’t imagine what he must be thinking.

“Thanks for getting me out of there,” AJ says, her voice raspy, and she can tell her face is swollen just from the areas of pain that come with speaking. After prying her gloves and finger guards off, she finds that most of her hands are covered in blisters, which explains why moving them hurt so much. When she wipes her nose with her wrist, it comes back tinged with red.

He answers, but when all she hears is a string of gibberish, AJ realizes that the universal translator must be fried. Her day just keeps getting better and better, because she needs to ask him to help pull the arm plating off next. Her fingers are dripping with pus and blood, some of her blisters popping from the effort, and with the way that the metal has melted and hardened weird on her arm, she’d be surprised if it’s only bruised.

“I need your help,” she says, slowly, in case the translator is just having some minor processing issues, “can you,” she gestures in his direction, “pull this,” she taps on the armor and mimics a good yank, “off for me?”

He seems to catch the gist, hesitantly reaching over, his long, slim fingers grasping the end of the metal awkwardly, as though he isn’t sure where to grip. As he pulls, there’s a sharp pain that runs up AJ’s arm, but she tries not to make anything more than a soft grunt as the plate pops off its attachment. Before she even has a chance to recover, he holds his hands out, taking the opposite piece in hand and doing the same thing. That one hurts a bit more, though, and AJ finds herself letting out a quiet whimper.

The alien quickly places a steady hand on her shoulder again, a comforting gesture that catches her off guard, and then he helps pull off all other parts of the suit until it’s just an exoskeleton. It’s a bit more complicated to get off than the external plating, since it involves a load of switches and locks, safeguarding her body against the vacuum of space. AJ’s fingers are stiff and aching, but she somehow manages to undo all the bells and whistles, and with her brand new friend’s help, she actually gets the damn thing off.

Her arms are covered in dark, swelling bruises. Patches of her skin are burned, much like her fingers, and she doesn’t want to know what her legs and feet look like quite yet. She can’t even wrap her arms around her chest to fight the oncoming chill since, beyond the obvious, her left arm spikes with pain every time she bent her elbow. Something in her stomach gurgles, she isn’t sure if it’s anxiety, hunger, or the fact she might have accidentally swallowed half of that river while she was fighting to breathe.

She starts crying. Not full-on sobs, but the tears are there, sliding down her already wet cheeks, mingling with the blood and snot that’s dripping out of her nose. The alien looks like he’s about to panic, and glances self-consciously over his shoulder, pointing to somewhere in the trees. He stands, and yes, AJ’s first observation about his height is correct. Good god, he has legs for days, the cool, blue of his skin remarkably reminiscent of a clear, sunny day back on Earth.

Oh, and he has horns. AJ doesn’t know how she missed that part, plucking the translator from the rest of the discarded suit and tucking it against the waistline of her leggings. He helps her up, slowly, carefully, clearly aware of how the more bloody and battered body parts are strictly off-limits. AJ doesn’t know how she could possibly walk, but she somehow does, another miracle to add on today’s list. Just because she can, though, doesn’t mean it’s not absolute agony,because there are a lot of things happening at once and none of them are good.

She’s suddenly overcome with pain, and she can’t do it. She can’t go any further. Her legs are quaking, her balance is warped, and just as she stumbles, the alien catches her. Carefully, conscious of her other injuries, he wraps her arm around his neck, placing his other hand on her wrist, effectively pulling a significant amount of weight off her feet. It’s torture, but she quietly tells herself that the pain will end just over the next landmark. They’ll get where the alien has them going soon, just beyond the trees. Beyond that big rock. Over the bridge.

And then there’s a house, small, rectangular, made from dark pink clay up ahead. AJ breathes out a gasping sigh of relief as the alien steers her there, letting her in through the awkwardly placed door, into the warm glow of weak, artificial light. Lightbulbs. Electricity. That’s a worthy observation because that pops the lid off dozens of possibilities that come with such a technological advancement, including things like functional, decent medicine that AJ is probably going to need in the near future.

There’s someone else in here, but AJ doesn’t try to be too worried. A woman, older than him, it looks like, judging by the slight creases in some areas of her face, and she’s looking at them like… well, like she’s seeing an alien for the first time. That’s also pretty fair. AJ tries to make herself seem like less of a threat, though she doesn’t really know… how to do that when she’s almost broken apart from the fall. Surely she possesses no sort of danger to these people?

They speak, and all she hears is garbled nonsense, though there is an undertone of familiar syllables that signals that her translator is trying to do its job. The female gestures over to a nearby table, and she is now ferried over to a kitchen area and seated on a comfortable wooden chair. The two proceed to converse, while AJ tries to use all her linguistics training to pull meaning from the gestures, tones, and facial expressions alone. After all, it is her goal to eventually be able to communicate with unknown species from the ground up, as is most linguistic anthropologists without technological aid. Might as well start now.

The older one sets a blanket around AJ’s shoulders, then goes about something around the kitchen area. Carefully, AJ undoes the straps of her giant work boots, wincing as her fingers bend around the straps. Her feet are horribly swollen, she can already tell without looking at them, and she’s almost afraid that she will have to cut the damn things off. Luckily, though, once everything’s loosened enough, her feet slide out with minimal effort. Like her hands, her toes and heels are burned, the red, raw flesh already peppered with popped blisters, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to walk for a good couple of days at least.

A bowl- no, cup, is set in front of her, the older one must have made her something to drink. Before AJ has a chance to pick up the ceramic mug, the female picks up her hands, looking over the wounds with a skilled glance, clucking her tongue sympathetically. After a moment of banging around in a drawing tucked to the side, she returns with long strips of cloth and a glass jar filled with some sort of paste. Carefully, the female patches AJ up, a sharp, biting sting overtaking her senses as that sticky stuff is unceremoniously smeared all over her hands and arms.

AJ dimly wonders if this is what a mummy partially feels like as her hands, fingers, and forearms are wrapped firmly in the bandages. Despite the burning pain from the salve, she feels… tired. Like she could just go to sleep at this very second. Slowly, she drinks the tea, though that doesn’t help the drowsiness, watching the two people go about their day like an extraterrestrial isn’t chilling in their kitchen area. Now, she can’t be sure unless she like… actually speaks to them, but the older one seems to have some sort of parental authority over the one who saved her from the water. Like a mother and son dynamic?

Her eyes drift closed, and AJ finds herself fighting them back open. Is she even safe to sleep? She doesn’t know, there hasn’t been any sort of weird vibes from the natives. Self-consciously, she takes another sip of tea, wincing as her hands move weirdly against their wounds.

The one who pulled her from the river disappears for a few minutes in the back of the house, then returns, wearing something entirely different from the simple tunic he sported earlier. The fashion is… Well, it’s something, that’s for sure. Lots of ornaments dangling from his ears, horns, and nose, dozens of piercings that she hadn’t noticed now plugged with gold-colored jewelry. There’s something more aggressively strange about his outfit, too, with a longer skirt and an open front, and he’s quick to avert his eyes when he catches her staring.

The female says something in passing, probably to her, but AJ doesn’t understand any of it. She finally takes the time to finally pick up her universal translator in an attempt to repair it. Not that she has any sort of confidence in her engineering abilities, though, because to put it nicely, she’s not really an electronics person.

When the masculine one actually leaves, though, ducking out from the door, AJ is overwhelmed with a sense of absolute panic, though she doesn’t really know why. She trips over herself, trying to stand, and she doesn’t know what she would do once she finds her footing, maybe follow him, but her feet just are not capable of walking anymore. He returns to her side as she crashes into the ground, hoisting her up by her waist, and she catches a whiff of his scent. Oh, it’s nice. AJ didn’t think that the indigenous people of technologically unadvanced planets use things like cologne. Still, he definitely smells different than when he first pulled her out of the river. He picks her up, arms hooking under her knees and around her waist, like a bride, and carries her through the hallway.

The bedroom he enters is cluttered, yet clean, a collection of things lining the walls and various shelves, clothing folded and carefully placed in little cubbies dug. AJ is then placed onto a bed, which is good, because she’s tired, but she’s also aware that the alien is just going to leave her, and a part of her is remarkably nervous over that. Even so, she buries her face in the blankets, struggling to find a comfortable sleeping position to accommodate all of her injuries, and she still manages to sleep, fully aching.

[ayellowcurtain]

about Robbe moving Sander into the flatshare but not telling the others and doing it so casually that it is not until Sander has lived there for 3ish weeks that the others call him on it. //  Could u write something where Robbe comes out to Zoe and Senne and they’re really supportive? // Can you write a prompt about Robbe finding out Sander has been living on the streets of having homophobic parents? // Omg you have to do a part 3!!! // Could you write something where Robbe and Sander confront each other and have a serious conversation about everything that happened (something really emotional) And Robbe confront Sander about the kiss with Britt

Part 2

--

Robbe is so nervous, constantly checking his phone while the others keep talking about things he doesn’t care about. Everything changed when he found out about Sander’s home situation. It was like traveling back in time, when he used to fight with his dad over the smallest things. Robbe knows too well what’s like to feel unwelcome in your own home. 

It’s definitely too soon, but Robbe can’t let Sander stay with his parents when he knows how homophobic his dad is. Robbe met his mom at the hospital and she seems nice, but if she still decides to choose her husband’s side after everything she saw her son go through, Robbe doesn’t care about her. 

The best option was to find a place for Sander to stay, but he can’t count on his friends. They don’t know everything yet and Robbe is not sure how they’ll react. The only option he has is his own place. Sander will move in with him until he can find somewhere else to stay, but Robbe doesn’t want to tell Zoe and Milan about it just yet, he made his decision and just texted Sander, telling him to pack his things and come meet him, he’ll deal with the others later. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi...sorry to ruin your night,” Sander says when they meet outside the bar. There’s no big suitcase, Sander just has a big backpack hanging on his shoulder, holding the strap tightly, looking so ashamed, staring at Robbe. It’s so weird between them, but it’s slowly getting better. They’ve been texting ever since Robbe went to visit Sander at the hospital. 

“It’s okay, I was waiting for you.” He looks behind him where his friends are still drinking, Jens is looking at him, but he just seems curious, drinking his beer. “Come on, I’ll go with you.” 

They walk in silence to the flat, Robbe checked the group chat and everyone is out of the house tonight. He opens the door and lets Sander in, pointing to his door like Sander has never been there before. But last time was a little different, they were making out while stumbling inside his bedroom, so Sander might not remember which door is the right one. 

His bedroom is not completely organized, but it’s definitely better than any other day. He didn’t have much time to organize before Sander came, but at least they can see the floor. Sander stops right at the end of his bed, looking around like he’s somewhere new. 

“I, hm, cleaned my closet a little so you can put your things there. It’s easier to hide that you’re...living here.”  Sander smiles and nods his head, looking at Robbe, slowly putting his bag on the bed. 

“Thank you for helping me. I hope Zoe doesn’t find me here.” Robbe tries to control his heart. Sander is feeling better, it’s clear, he’s finally looking like the Sander that Robbe thought he knew and fell in love. 

“She won’t, don’t worry. I put an extra door lock so nobody can come in without knocking now.” Sander looks at the door to check the new locker and he nods his head again. 

“Guess I’ll have to create some different schedules to not...run into anyone.” 

“Yeah...” 

“Can I smoke here?” Sander walks to the window, looking out, keeping the small smile on his lips. Robbe is thankful to have a moment to recover. Sander keeps looking at him and his brain doesn’t know how to function. 

“I read that’s not good for you to smoke, so...” 

Shit!

Sander turns around right away, putting his hands inside his pockets, looking at Robbe again. 

“So you’ve been doing your research...” He leans against the wall behind him, smiling bigger as he sees Robbe trying to come up with an excuse. 

“I was just worried, I didn’t know what being bipolar meant and I was curious. But I guess you can if you want to.” Robbe turns around, taking his jacket off, hanging on the door, breathing slowly, trying not to think about how weird it’ll be to live with Sander when they’re not together. 

“I’ll try not to. Just because you think it’s bad for me. And where will I sleep?” They both look at Robbe’s bed. It’s not big, but it can easily fit two people, they took a nap in it just a month ago. 

“You can sleep in my bed, there’s enough space for the two of us.” 

“No.” Robbe’s head instantly snaps up, trying to think of a plan B. “I can’t sleep with you if we’re not together.” Sander smiles and Robbe is relieved, he thought Sander didn’t want to be near him. 

“Sander...” 

“You said we were going to talk and then you never met me and now we’re here.” 

He’s not lying. Robbe said they would talk, but he didn’t really mean it. He just needed Sander to not think about them while he was in the hospital recovering. But then they slowly started talking again and Robbe can’t control how he feels. He made big mistakes too and Sander forgave him. Robbe would be lying to himself if he didn’t accept that he misses Sander, that he doesn’t think about the few days of pure perfection they had. 

Robbe watches as Sander fixes his hair and walks closer. 

Sander gently holds the hem of his shirt, pulling Robbe closer. The air thickens instantly just by having Sander so close. He rests his forehead against Robbe’s, looking at him and Robbe has to look down.  

"Why did you do it? Posed with her on instagram..." He had this conversation so many times inside his head, Robbe just never thought they would have the opportunity to actually talk about it. He can see Sander’s chest moving as he takes a deep breath in. 

“I wanted to break your heart. To hurt you enough to keep you away from me. Because, as you can see, I have no fucking self-control so if I didn’t do it, you would keep coming back and I would hurt you again and again. You were in shock that night, Robbe, so you probably don’t remember as much as I do, you didn’t see how hurt you were.” 

Robbe looks up, knowing well they’re way too close and Sander kisses him right away just like Robbe knew he would do, Robbe just needed to forget about that night. It’s just a quick touch of lips and Robbe steps away, biting the inside of his lip, turning on his feet to keep Sander from seeing his smile, but the other one is not as worried. He laughs and it’s almost contagious. 

-

Every wall is wet, Robbe just took a second shower, but he’s so hot. He’s trying to dry himself as quickly as he can to get out of this tiny and warm bathroom, but Sander pulls him closer again, hugging him from behind, leaving a trail of wet kisses all the way to Robbe’s ear. 

It’s been almost two weeks since they got together. Living under the same roof is proving to be so hard. Harder than Robbe imagined. They haven’t been able to keep their hands to themselves for long. 

And Sander is a smartass. His “schedules” were made to perfection. When Robbe and Zoe leave for school, Milan gets in the shower while Senne is asleep. The perfect time for Sander to sneak out to go to his classes. Around five he comes back home, Robbe is always on his bedroom, Milan is cooking and Zoe and Senne are locked inside their bedroom. 

When everyone is already in bed, Sander goes to take his shower. Some times Robbe already fell asleep, but most of the nights, Sander takes Robbe with him to the bathroom. Usually, it’s a quick shower because Robbe is already half asleep, but other nights they end up taking way too long to get out of the bathroom, having to take two showers to clean themselves. 

Tonight was one of those nights. When Sander gets near his ear, Robbe holds his towel tighter around his waist or else Sander will pull it again and drag him back to the shower.

“I like the sounds you make,” Sander whispers, smiling against his cheek, looking at Robbe through the blurry mirror. 

“Shut up.” Robbe is very aware of his own sounds, but he can’t help it. Kissing Sander feels too good. 

He manages to escape Sander’s tight hug, unlocking the door to check if they’re alone. 

“Hello!” Zoe scares him almost to death. Her hair is all messy and her lips are swollen, her pajamas don’t leave much to the imagination and Robbe wonders if that’s what Milan was talking about when he moved in. She seems as surprised as Robbe is, but she looks over his shoulder and he knows what she finds. “Hi...Sander.” 

“Hi, Zoe...” Senne comes out of their room, still putting his briefs back in place and he stops when he finally looks up to see everyone right at his door. His hair is also messy and Robbe can see some marks on his sides. 

“I thought I would have to break this door to take both of you out of there tonight,” Senne says and he doesn’t look surprised, he doesn’t even stare at them like Zoe is still doing. He makes Robbe move to the side so he can get inside the bathroom too, throwing his towel over his shoulder as Robbe and Sander have no other option but to get out. 

Robbe is still only wearing his towel and Sander is only wearing black underwear. He’s lost. It sounded like Senne knew about their late night showers. Robbe looks at Zoe and she fixed her hair already. 

“I thought you just liked to take long showers...” She explains and Robbe can feel his entire body heating up, probably blushing all the way to his naked chest. Senne and Zoe know that his long showers were being shared...with Sander. And they don’t seem as surprised as Robbe thought they would be. They don’t even ask questions. Senne is acting like he knew it all along. 

Senne comes out of the bathroom, holding Zoe’s hand, pulling her inside with him and he’s looking down, Robbe wants to disappear. Senne is probably staring at all the marks Robbe knows he has, a few hickeys and scratches... 

“This brief is mine.” Robbe looks at Sander right next to him and his boyfriend is looking down, but the other two are gone. Senne closed the bathroom door. 

[wordsandshawn]

Before Now - chapter 14

previous chapters

14. 

At first, I’m afraid that things will grow awkward between us, but the next time I see Shawn, he doesn’t mention anything. In fact, he barely even acknowledges me, and I simply hide behind my camera. I don’t experience the same level of anxiety after that day, and I’m not really sure why, but I am grateful that things seem to be getting better.  

As time passes, I come to terms with the fact that this really is some sort of business arrangement. I see Shawn every day. I take pictures and make videos of him and send them to him and he posts them and sometimes gives me credit for them. I’ve seen more of the US while on tour with Shawn than I have in my entire life. Even though I’ve been along for the ride for over three weeks now, I’m still mind blown over the fact that Shawn does this for a living.

I get along with everyone on tour, which isn’t too hard or surprising since I tend to get along with most people. Plus, it helps that they all seem to be genuine and kind and welcoming, but they also all have a history together, and sometimes that makes it hard for me to fit in or feel like I fit in. Most of them have been on tour with Shawn since he first started out, which means years of memories and inside jokes that I wasn’t a part of. On top of that, I’m also more inclined to keep to myself lately. I’m not exactly interested in becoming close to anyone here. I’m just trying to do my job. So even though they’re all so nice and my interactions are nothing but cordial with everyone, including Shawn, I still kind of feel alone.

Since that one night a week ago, we’ve spent most nights on the bus traveling from one city to the next, but since Shawn is playing two shows in LA, we’re staying at a hotel again tonight. Although a part of me is looking forward to a night in a real bed, I can’t help but remember the last night in the hotel and how that night just so happened to precede one of the most difficult days I’ve had on tour so far.

I lay awake for most of the night, my thoughts too loud for me to get much sleep. I pace the room, do some editing, try listening to podcasts, but nothing seems to work. I must finally doze off at around five in the morning and I’m awoken not long later by the sound of someone pounding on my hotel door. It's unmistakable that the knocking is on my door. At first, I think it must be housekeeping or something, and that they’ll leave once they try to get in and realize that the extra lock is on and someone is obviously in the room.

When the knocking doesn’t stop, I finally force myself out of the bed and stumble through the nearly dark room to the door. I peek through the peephole to see Shawn standing there. I’m both surprised and not surprised to see him there on the other side of the door, but mostly, I’m intrigued, so I swing open the door without thinking twice. The light from the hallway momentarily blinds me, and I have to squint against the harshness of it as my eyes adjust.

“Good morning.”

“What are you doing here?” I mumble in response, not even bothering to return his greeting.

“Let’s go get breakfast.”

I’m wearing a t-shirt two sizes too big for me, along with a pair of soft shorts that don’t cover much more than the bare minimum, and I barely register what he says before responding, “It’s too early.”

“It’s nine am.” He sounds confused by the fact that I’d even think nine am is too early.

“Yeah, too early,” I say, stepping back and almost closing the door, just wanting to go back to bed.

Shawn chuckles sticking his hand out to prevent me from closing the door. I still don’t fully understand why he’s even standing here in front of me right now. “Skylar, c’mon. Please come with me. It’s breakfast, you love breakfast.”

I used to love breakfast. It used to be my favorite meal of every day and I would never skip it, but that was a long time ago. Nowadays I’m lucky if I have a granola bar before noon. I don’t tell Shawn that, though.

“Go without me,” I say, starting to close the door again, but Shawn won’t take no for an answer. Come to think of it, I don’t think Shawn has ever taken no for an answer.

He prevents me from closing the door and leaving him alone in the hallway. “Please Ky.” He pleads, using my nickname I haven’t heard from him in a while.

“Get someone else to go with you,” I respond. It’s too early to even think about trying to spare his feelings.

“Everyone else is sleeping.” I give him a skeptical look, so he continues. “They all went out last night.”

“And you didn’t?” I question, but even so, I know he can tell that my resolve is cracking, little by little.

He shakes his head no, and then says, “I have a place in mind. It’s a café, super tiny and really cute. It’s just a couple of blocks down. I promise you’ll like it. I go there every time I’m here.” When he sees the look I’m giving him, it’s almost like he can read my mind. “No one even gives me a second look. I normally just find a table in the corner.”

“Just me and you?” I question, still so puzzled over why he’s even standing here in front of me right now. He nods. I’m still half asleep and my brain is not fully functioning yet meaning I’ve got no filter, so I say, “Like a date?”

He shrugs, “If you want it to be?” His eyebrows knit together slightly, now he’s puzzled too, and I promptly shake my head at the outrageous and completely inappropriate suggestion despite the fact that I’m the one that made it.

“No, I don’t.” I’m still sleepy and still shaking my head. The lack of sleep is clearly affecting me. Being alone in hotel rooms is quickly becoming one of my least favorite things, and I know I’ll have to adjust to it soon knowing this won’t be the last hotel stay on the tour.

“Okay, then it isn’t.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “But can we please go. I’m hungry.” He’s shifting his weight from one leg to the other, giving me a pleading look. I can’t say no to him, so I leave the door open and retreat back into the dark room. I don’t bother opening the curtains as I head straight for the bathroom. I haven’t checked behind me, but I’m pretty confident Shawn has followed me inside the hotel room, closing the door behind him. After using the bathroom, putting on contacts, and brushing my teeth, I exit the bathroom to find the room flooded with light since Shawn has opened all of the curtains, letting in the morning sunshine, and he’s seated on the little love seat near the window, staring down at his phone.

It takes me a couple of minutes to find clothes to wear. I change, throw my hair in a bun, and grab my phone, wallet, and room key before following Shawn outside and into the hallway. “Where are we going?” I ask once we’re walking side by side.

“You’ll see.” He says as I follow him into the elevator. We walk a few blocks from the hotel in comfortable silence. I’m grateful that I’m actually outside of the hotel and seeing the place where we are for once. But I am also still half asleep and not exactly interested in having a conversation right now, and I’m glad Shawn seems to understand.

The little breakfast café Shawn takes me to is mostly empty, which I’m grateful for, and the waitress tells us to sit wherever we’d like. Shawn leads me to a table in the corner, and we both sit, looking at the menu silently. Shawn orders his coffee black. I order a hot chocolate because I’ve been trying to stay away from caffeine since I know it makes me anxious.

We’re both looking over the menu for what we want to eat when I look up and notice an overexcited girl with her iPhone clearly pointed at us, well more likely at Shawn. I try not to look at her again, but I glance at Shawn to see if he’s noticed. His eyes remain glued to his menu and he actually looks calm and peaceful, so I decide not to interrupt it by pointing out this girl.

After we order, Shawn asks me how tour has been for me so far and if I’ve liked working and traveling and everything. I tell him the truth, that I’ve enjoyed it and I’m grateful for the opportunity. The conversation isn’t exactly awkward, but it isn’t the most comfortable thing I’ve experienced in my life.

The food comes relatively quickly and we both lapse into silence as we eat. About halfway through the meal, I finally cave and ask him something I’ve been wondering about since we first left the hotel. “Why did you ask me to have breakfast with you?”

“Do I need a reason?” He questions, feigning innocence.

“Yes,” I answer immediately.

He puts his fork down, shrugging before lifting his coffee mug to his lips and taking a sip. I’m still staring at him when he’s done drinking, so he stares back at me. “I just haven’t seen you much lately. We’ve both been busy.”

“Do you take all your workers out to breakfast when you haven’t seen them lately?”

He sighs. I know I’m being weird and difficult, but I don’t know what this is or what he’s trying to do. We had a moment on the bus where he basically called me out for my anxiety, but we didn’t actually talk about it. And then after that, he practically ignores me for a week only to show up this morning at my hotel room, catching me off guard and half-asleep and forcing me out to breakfast with him. He may not owe me an explanation, but this feels weird to me. The only reason why I agreed was because it didn’t seem like he would take no for an answer and since he woke me up, I was probably not going to fall back asleep. Plus, the idea of being alone in my hotel room wasn’t very appealing.

“Not really.” He admits.

“Then why me?” I question. I need answers.

“God, Skylar,” He says with a sigh, sounding at least a little bit frustrated. “You’re not everyone else.”

Special treatment. I had told myself from the very beginning that I wouldn’t accept any special treatment from Shawn or anyone else. I was here to do a job, and that is exactly what I intended to do. I know that Shawn may have given me this job as a favor to his mom and my mom, but I promised myself that once I got here, my work would speak for itself and make it worth it for Shawn to keep me here.

Even though I’ve been working incredibly hard these past few weeks, Shawn is still not treating me like everyone else. He wasn’t treating me like everyone else when he told me to take the night off, which I refused, resulting in it turning out horribly for me. The point is, he was giving me special treatment. A part of me didn’t want to admit that I’ve been getting special treatment from the very beginning, when he spoke out about my contract for me. It was only extra expenses on his part for me to have my own hotel room when I know that a lot of people share rooms or just stay on the bus on nights when Shawn stays in hotel rooms. And I know it’s an extra expense for me to fly with him whenever he flies somewhere instead of traveling with the buses, equipment and most of the crew.

“I don’t want to be treated differently.” I have to force myself to keep my voice low. I can’t be sure who might be listening in on our conversation or watching us, something I’m trying not to think about.

“What do you want?” He questions, and when you don’t answer right away, he adds. “You basically ignore everyone, and isolate yourself unless you’re working, and then when I try to talk to you or check on you, you just shut me out.”

The truth is I don’t know what I want, not really. This is all so complicated and weird. With the history Shawn and I have, it’s more difficult than I thought it would be to keep everything professional. He’s right. I’m not everyone else just like he’s not any other boss I’ve had. Because I haven’t kissed any of my other bosses. I haven’t known them since I was born either. I haven’t slept over at their house or facetimed them until I fell asleep. I thought that since all of that happened between Shawn and I so long ago, what feels like a lifetime ago sometimes, that this could be normal, that we could act professional, but it’s all proving to be very hard when he asks me out to breakfast and I stupidly agree.

I don’t respond to Shawn right away, instead, I focus intensely on my food and eat as a distraction from having to make eye contact with him. “Skylar, why do you push everyone away? Why do you keep pushing me away? You won’t even have a full conversation with me unless it’s about work.”

I finally look up at him now. He’s stopped eating and is just staring at me, waiting for me to say something, so I do. “I’m just here to work. I’m not pushing you away, it’s not personal.”

“Bullshit.” He responds, not hesitating to call me out, and I realize that we’ll continue to go back and forth on this unless I stop it. Either way, this is a really public place to be having a conversation like this, and a part of me feels upset with Shawn for bringing me here, but the other part of me knows it’s just as much my fault.

“I don’t want to talk about this now.” I respond, trying desperately to keep my voice calm and even. “I’m just here to work, Shawn. I shouldn’t have even agreed to this breakfast. I was tired, and it was a lapse in judgment. I’m sorry.” As I finish talking, I pull out my wallet and grab some money, what I’m sure is enough to cover at least my half of the bill. Shawn tries to object, but I’m not having it. I drop the money on the table and stand to leave. He tries to stop me, reaching out his hand as I walk by, but I push past him, barely looking back.

He doesn’t follow and I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed as I make my way back to the hotel. When I finally get back to my room, closing the door securely behind me, I’m alone again, and I realize I’m feeling a little bit of both.

.

Chapter 15