#i am very grateful but i am so happy i have storage space now

[yoongiseesawmp3]

cupid - seungcheol (m)

summary: brother’s best friend!seungcheol. you move in with your brother joshua while you look for a new place, so you finally meet his best friend and roommate seungcheol. you’ve only heard stories, so you’re not prepared for the good looks or the charm that he constantly exudes. after a really bad date, you need someone to save you, and with joshua mia, seungcheol comes to the rescue.

word count: 9.3k

warnings: smut!!! afab reader. unprotected sex. gendered terms (pretty girl, reader referred to as sister/sis). thigh riding. a little oral (m receiving).

masterlist

“jesus, how many boxes do you have?” joshua complains as you hand him another box of books to lug into his apartment. 

“only a couple more,” you tell him. “these are all the things i couldn’t fit in storage.”

“get a bigger unit next time,” your brother grumbles as you start the walk back into his building. 

“no,” you say stubbornly, and you can almost hear him roll his eyes. “why did you park so far away?”

“why are you complaining!” he shrieks. “i’m doing something very nice for you! be grateful!” 

“i am,” you say as you rush to open the door for him, and he quietly thanks you. “seriously, you don’t know how much this is helping me, big bro. i was about to have a breakdown trying to find a place before my old lease ended.”

“i heard,” joshua laughs. “mom called me the other week and told me to check on you, she thought you were losing it.”

“yeah, well,” you sigh, “if i had to deal with those roommates any longer i was going to.”

“so you’re looking for a place by yourself?” joshua asks as the elevator dings. he lets you go in first, reminding you of what floor to press before you respond.

“yeah, i can finally afford one, so i figured it would be nice to have my own space.”

“i can understand that,” he nods.

“you happy living with your roommates?” you ask. “not ready to give up your frat boy days from college?”

“shut up,” he says. “not all of us got good jobs right after graduation. i need roommates if i wanna live in this area.”

“and remind me of their names again?” you ask, the elevator stopping on your floor. you let joshua go first, following him down the hall and trying to remember the unit number.

“well there’s seungcheol, or cheol,” josh starts. “you haven’t met him yet, he’ll be home later.” he unlocks the door and lets you in as he goes on. “and then mingyu-”

“i remember him,” you say happily, glad to know there’ll be a familiar face here.

“and i remember the little crush you used to have on him,” joshua smiles evilly. 

“i did not!”

“hm, you sure?”

“swear on your life.”

“whatever,” he laughs. “anyway, he’s got a girlfriend now, and we haven’t seen him here for longer than a couple hours since they started dating. so you can stay in his room until you find a place.”

“oh no, i couldn’t-”

“he doesn’t mind,” joshua waves you off, your box placed ungracefully on the floor. “seriously, he doesn’t even keep his stuff here anymore. it won’t be an issue.”

“if you say so,” you sigh. “ok, one more trip?”

“nope,” joshua shakes his head before laying on the couch. “you’ve used up all your favors for today.”

“what a helpful brother you are,” you deadpan. “give me the keys. i’ll go get the rest of my stuff. alone!” 

“sounds good!” josh replies, tossing his keys to you dangerously. “don’t get lost!” 

“no promises!” you shout back, locking the door behind you as you go. you thankfully don’t have much left to bring up, so you’re able to grab a majority of your things this trip. what’s left you can get later, because you’re exhausted. now that you know you have a bed and not an air mattress to sleep on, the idea of laying down is becoming more and more appealing. only problem with you grabbing so many things is now you can’t open the door on your own. thankfully, a guy who must live here too rushes over to hold it for you, nodding when you thank him for the help. he catches the elevator for you both before it closes, sticking his arm out so the doors won’t close in on you as you bring your things inside.

“what floor?” he asks, and you start to reply when you see your floor already selected.

“oh, you’ve got it already,” you tell him, and he nods. end of the conversation, it seems, until you get to the floor and start walking in the same direction. you slow down, waiting for him to maybe turn off at a different door, but, yep, he’s unlocking the door to joshua’s apartment. you stand in the hallway stunned for a moment before you go up and knock the door, not wanting to dig for the keys now that your hands are full. mystery man comes to the door, and you stutter out a greeting.

“don’t tell me you lost my keys already,” joshua calls from within the apartment, and the man, who must be seungcheol, looks between you both.

“you’re joshua’s sister?” he asks, and you nod. he steps aside, letting you in, as he says, “sorry, i didn’t realize. i’m seungcheol.”

“i pieced that together,” you smile. “nice to meet you. thanks for letting me stay here a while.”

“no problem,” he replies. “joshua didn’t really give us a choice anyway.”

“josh you said they were fine with me being here!” you whine, looking for your brother, who pops his head out of the kitchen with a smirk. 

“he’ll get used to it. you hungry, y/n?”

“starving.”

“cheol?”

“i can eat,” he shrugs, eyeing you carefully as you put your things down. josh didn’t say his sister was hot. well, that would be weird. he just didn’t say much about you other than you’re a couple years younger and in need of a place to crash, so the fact that cheol can’t take his eyes off of you is a bit conflicting for the man. he looks away before you can catch him staring, clearing his throat before he says, “um, i’m gonna go wash up.”

“oh, can you show me where the bathroom is?” you ask.

“uh, sure,” cheol says awkwardly, walking down the hall as you follow. he points to one door and says, “that’s joshua’s room, not sure if he said that already. your’s is back there,” he points to a door further down on the right, and then to the door behind you, “that’s your bathroom. you’ll share with your brother.”

“it’s like i’m a kid again,” you joke, and cheol smiles softly. “where’s your room?”

“what?” cheol sputters.

“well is there another bathroom? you said josh and i would share this one, i’m just curious,” you go on. “sorry if i’m prying.”

“no, yeah, um, i have the master suite since i found the place for us,” he explains. “the guys let me have it as a thanks for doing all the apartment hunting.”

“it’s a nice place,” you note, and he hums in agreement. 

“ok, well, um, i’m going,” he says, pointing to his room.

“right, right, sorry,” you say, waving him off. you step into the bathroom to rinse your face off, removing some of the sweat from your long day. you head back out into the kitchen to bother joshua and he looks up as you walk in.

“so how do you like the place?” he questions, and you tell him it’s nice. without looking at you he asks next, “and how do you like cheol?”

“he’s a little awkward, actually,” you reply. “you sure he’s cool with me staying here? i won’t be here long, if it bothers him.”

“he’ll be fine,” josh waves you off. “he may just be tired. looks like he was coming back from the gym so he’ll be better after his nap and a snack. he’s like a toddler.”

“noted,” you laugh. “you need help with anything?”

“nah, you can start unpacking your stuff,” josh says. “i’ll call you when the food’s ready.”

“joshua?”

“yeah?” he asks, turning to look at you. 

“thank you for letting me stay here. really.”

“anytime,” he smiles. “just remember we share a bathroom again, so no long ass showers.”

“way to ruin the moment,” you laugh. 

you end up going back to “your” room to change, putting some of your clothes away in mingyu’s empty dresser. he really must spend all his time at that girl’s place, you think. you take your toiletries into the bathroom, squatting in front of the sink so you can arrange them among joshua’s countless bottles. as you’re balancing and trying not to knock over something in an expensive glass bottle, cheol walks down the hallway in a tank top and sweats, water droplets still sticking to his chest. the sight of him booking it takes you by surprise, so you fall onto your ass and shake your head, clearing whatever strange thoughts the sight of a damp seungcheol were bringing to your mind. 

meanwhile, cheol joins joshua in the kitchen, opting to sit at the counter while josh finishes the noodles. he wants to say something about you, but isn’t sure how to bring it up without seeming weird. he also doesn’t have much time before you come out of your room, so cheol just goes for it.

“um, does y/n need help moving anything else, you think?” cheol offers, and josh looks over his shoulder nonchalantly.

“you can ask her,” he shrugs. “i’m tapped out for the night though, so i’m sure she is too.”

“ok,” cheol nods. he starts playing on his phone, not noticing you walking into the kitchen until joshua starts complaining about something.

“what, i can’t drink your water?” you whine back, frustrated that your brother won’t let you have one of the bottles in the fridge.

“because those aren’t mine!” joshua informs you. “they’re cheol’s, so at least as him before you take one.”

“seungcheol, can i please have one of your waters? i can get the next case if you want,” you say as you turn around, and it takes cheol a second to focus. you’re wearing an old concert t shirt (cheol is pretty sure he has that same one) and shorts that are barely there. cheol is distracted by the sight of your thighs on display and it takes his brain a second to catch up, so he nods before he really knows what he’s agreeing to.

“wait, what? you don’t have to buy more water,” he says, finally there. “have as much as you want. joshua’s just weird.”

“you’re telling me,” you say as you hop up onto the counter.

“i hate when you do that,” josh says, turning to you with his hand on his hip. 

“you know when you do that you look just like mom?”

“shut up.”

“you!” 

“oh my god!” cheol interjects with a laugh. “are you two going to bicker all the time?”

“no,” you say in unison. 

“most of the time though,” you add, and joshua scoffs.

“only when y/n annoys me.”

“am i gonna have to play referee for you two?” cheol asks. “my god.”

“sorry,” you apologize. “we’ll cut it out. right josh?”

“whatever,” he mumbles, pulling the pot from the stove. “y/n can you get a pot holder from that drawer under you and put it on the table for me?”

“yeah, hold on,” you say, moving with a quickness. “don’t burn yourself.”

“i’m being careful,” josh says softly, and cheol laughs to himself at how quickly you can go from bickering to caring for each other. you both join him at the counter, you struggling to get into the tall chair. 

“watch it shorty,” he teases, making you blush. 

“oh no, i can’t deal with both of you teasing me,” you scold. “so zip it. i’ve got little legs.”

“hm, it’s cute,” cheol says loud enough for you to hear but quiet enough that josh doesn’t catch it over the sound of shuffling bowls. he passes them out and starts serving you and cheol. “thanks man.”

“yeah thanks mom,” you joke, and josh mumbles an expletive before eating his food.

-

after eating, you and joshua were both so tired you just went to your rooms. cheol however stayed out in the kitchen, promising he would clean up. instead, he politely snoops through your things, trying to learn more about you through your boxes of junk. he doesn’t touch anything, just looks, so he doesn’t feel that bad about it. he takes note of the books laying on top of one box, jotting down the titles so he can try to find some of them later. he smiles when he sees a soccer jersey falling out of a duffel bag, and he’s about to break his no touching rule when he hears a loud, “HEY!” from the hallway. he jumps at the sound, bumping his elbow on one of the boxes and toppling books over. he whirls around to find you, clad in a baggy sleep shirt with tired eyes watching on in amusement.

“what the hell are you doing?” you question, and cheol tries to stammer out a response.

“i uh, i saw a bug,” he lies, and you nod. 

“hm, i thought josh would keep his house cleaner than that,” you judge. 

“i’m the pig in this relationship, it’s probably my fault,” cheol says as he follows you back into the kitchen. “couldn’t sleep?”

“no, i’m still hungry,” you grumble. “the noodles were my only meal today.”

“you need to eat more,” cheol scolds and you wave him off as you open the fridge.

“whose lunchable is this?” you ask over your shoulder.

“look at me,” cheol gestures. “do i look like i eat those?” you stare maybe a little longer and harder than you should, prompting cheol to ask, “find something else you like?”

“what? no,” you shake your head. “i should’ve known it was my brother’s. he lived off of these for a month when he was younger.”

“really?” cheol chuckles. “what was joshua like as a kid?”

“hm, angelic?” you say sarcastically, hopping back up on the counter like you were earlier. you start eating your lunchable as you keep talking. “he was the perfect one and i was the biter.”

“the biter?” 

“i bit so many kids i almost got kicked out of school,” you confirm. “sorry. don’t know why i just told you that. it’s embarrassing.”

“it’s okay,” cheol smiles. “you still like to bite people now?”

“only when provoked,” you say suspiciously. 

“i’ll remember that.”

“so you really don’t mind me staying here?” you ask with cracker crumbs on your lips. cheol finds that captivating, so he keeps his eyes on your lips as he responds.

“i really don’t mind,” he nods. “i’m just happy we could help. josh was worried about you for a while.”

“yeah, well, he never liked my roommates-”

“or the area you were in,” cheol says sternly. “he said it wasn’t safe.”

“oh it wasn’t,” you nod. “but it was cheap.”

“still, you need to be careful,” cheol tells you.

“didn’t know i was signing up for a bonus brother by staying here,” you tease.

“i’m not being a bonus brother, i’m simply a concerned citizen,” he says, hand over his heart. you fall silent while you finish eating, and cheol does his best to commit your form to memory. he wants you to be embedded in his eyelids when he lays down and closes his eyes tonight, and he only feels bad for a nanosecond that he feels this way about his friend’s baby sister. 

“ok, well, thank you for the company,” you say as you look for the trashcan. 

“under the sink,” cheol says, anticipating what you were looking for and keeping his eyes on you still. “all good?” he asks when you’ve thrown everything away, and you nod. “alright, well, good night.”

“night seungcheol,” you say with an awkward wave as you go back to your room. when you’re halfway down the hall you hear cheol call your name, so you turn to find his eyes smiling at you.

“call me cheol, i like that better.”

“oh, ok. night cheol,” you try again, and he happily nods. 

-

when you wake up the next morning, you hear someone in the kitchen and assume joshua must be up and about. you wrap a blanket around yourself, laughing at the fact that mingyu has a pink fuzzy blanket in his room. you make your way into the kitchen, ready to complain about how cold you were last night. 

“dude, are you rich or something? why’d you run the ac all-” you stop short, staring at cheol’s bare back. he looks back at you, hair ruffled, and has the audacity to smirk. “sorry. thought you were josh.”

“he’s still asleep,” cheol replies, and you consider just going back to your room to hide until you’re sure your brother is out here as a buffer. with his back to you still, he asks, “do you want eggs?”

“uh, sure?”

“are you?” cheol laughs, turning around to face you fully. you’re doing your best to keep your eyes on his face, but when he crosses his arms over that broad chest of his you falter. “i promise i won’t put anything weird in em.”

“that’s reassuring,” you say with a yawn, letting the blanket fall slightly as you cover your mouth. cheol sees your sleep shirt again, this time stretched out from your movements as you slept, and he wonders for a moment if it would look like that after he uses it to pull you closer and- “do you mind if i make coffee?”

“go for it,” cheol says, grateful for the distraction from where his mind was going. “machine’s over there.”

“thanks,” you mumble, half asleep still. you stand in front of the coffee maker for a moment, brain processing what you need to get first.

“you need me to find the instruction manual?” cheol asks, watching you the whole time you were standing there. 

“make your eggs cheol.”

you empty the coffee grounds that were still in the bucket, then take a fresh filter from the stack on the counter. you move around cheol to fill the pot with water, making sure there’s enough for you all to have a cup if you want. after pouring the water in, you notice you’re missing one crucial thing. you check the counter, nothing. you try the drawers below you, then the cabinets below those. still nothing. you move to the pantry and spend a moment frustratedly moving things around in search of coffee and you come up empty once again. as you turn around to look everywhere once again, you almost jump out of your skin seeing cheol so close, watching you with an amused look in his eyes.

“jesus, you scared me,” you gasp.

“i’ll wear a bell next time,” he jokes. “looking for something?”

“the coffee, where do you keep it? please don’t tell me you’re out,” you whine, and cheol just smiles. 

“you can find it on your own, i believe in you.”

“what? no, tell me.”

“and why should i do that?” cheol asks seriously. 

“i don’t know, because i’m cute?” you joke. 

“yeah, you are,” cheol says, holding your gaze, quirking an eyebrow to challenge you. you swear you would deck him if he wasn’t so handsome. you whirl around to look in the pantry again before you hear cheol’s deep voice just barely say “colder.”

you look at him suspiciously, and he’s back to cooking the eggs. he’s keeping one eye on you though, sneaking looks at you and trying not to smile at how ridiculously cute you are being so frustrated over this. he prompts you with a few more “cold”/”colder” clues before you whine in exasperation.

“but i already checked over here,” you complain, back in front of the machine. “i’ll just go get coffee, forget this-” 

you reach out to turn the coffee maker off, and cheol mumbles “warmer.” your ears perk up, so you move your hand around the counter to get a clue. finally you lift your hand toward the cabinet above the coffee maker, and cheol says you’re getting warmer. 

“hot,” he says as you finally open the cabinet, “hotter, hotter than you are, hottest, you’re on fire! be careful!” he continues, even though you’ve found the coffee and you can now finish the pot you were making. “well that took a while.”

“because someone was being childish,” you chastise him, and cheol smiles like he just won the lottery.

“but it was fun!”

-

“why didn’t you like that place?” joshua asks as you leave another perfectly fine apartment. 

“there’s no dog park,” you reply, and your brother groans. loudly.

“you don’t even HAVE a dog,” he complains.

“but i want one! i can’t have a dog if there’s no where for it to go!”

 “come on y/n, that place was nice!” joshua tries hyping it up for you. “there was so much space, way too many closets which is good for you and all your junk, and that view was amazing.”

“the view was really nice,” you concede, and josh bumps shoulders with you as you keep walking toward his apartment.

“plus it’s walking distance from me,” he smiles. “so you can bother me whenever you want.”

“that is a plus.”

“and it means you’re close to cheol too...”

“what?” you stop and look at him, and he laughs.

“i’m just saying. it’d be easy for you to visit. doesn’t matter who you’re visiting.”

ignoring joshua’s insinuations, you go back to discussing the apartment you just saw. if you wanted to apply you needed to move fast, but you were nervous. joshua listened intently as you aired all your worries, and like the good big brother he is he calmly countered each ridiculous thought with logic and only a few jokes. by the time you were walking down his hallway, you were convinced that you’d found your apartment. you grab your laptop from mingyu’s room and start working on the application, joshua peering over your shoulder every once in a while to help you decipher what it’s asking for. you’re thankful for the help, and you turn to ask him another question and almost jump out of your skin.

“jesus, make some noise next time,” you gasp, seeing shirtless cheol behind you again. he was leaning over the couch, close enough that his chin could almost lean on your shoulder. 

“whatcha doin?” he asks with a cheshire cat-like grin.

“applying for an apartment,” you inform him, and you’re not sure but you think his face falls just slightly. “do you ever wear shirts at home?”

“why, is that a problem for you?” he asks. you feel like a goldfish, closing and opening your mouth like an idiot trying to decide how to respond.

“y/n?” joshua laughs as he comes back from the bathroom to see you mooning over his roommate. “you good?”

“i’m being heckled,” you finally reply, and cheol laughs. 

“i asked if she needed help, sorry if that’s heckling now,” he says as he moves away from the couch.

“it is when your tits are out,” you grumble, scrolling back to the page you were working on. cheol made you mess up, but don’t tell him that.

“not like you haven’t seen them before, sweets!” cheol teases, and joshua looks between you both in amusement.

“you’ve been staring at his tits, y/n?” 

“no, he just never has clothes on apparently,” you defend yourself. “he was shirtless this morning when we had breakfast too.”

“you had breakfast together?” joshua asks, looking to just cheol now. he had told josh he slept in today and that you must have made the mess in the kitchen. why didn’t he say he ate with you?

“we were in the same room when we ate, yeah,” cheol nods. joshua leaves it at that, mostly because you start whining about something you don’t understand on your application. he rejoins you at the couch and cheol goes to his room, silently cursing himself for letting josh catch him so easily. he didn’t want your brother knowing he was catching feelings, so he’ll have to play it cool from now on. 

-

speaking of being cool, the boys keep this apartment too cold. after your first freezing night, you wore more clothes to bed thinking that would keep you warm. unfortunately, you don’t know where your hoodies are, so you had to make do. so when you wake up in the middle of the night shivering, you stomp out of your room to go bang on your brother’s door. just as you’re raising your fist to bang on his door, you hear cheol’s open down the hallway.

“you again?” you groan, not missing the fact that cheol still isn’t wearing a shirt. “how are you not freezing?”

“i am,” he replies, and you fall silent. “i was getting up to change the thermostat.” 

“oh.”

“and you were..?”

“gonna complain about it to my brother?” you say sheepishly, making cheol laugh.

“joshua is the one that keeps it so cold, he would just tell you to go back to bed,” he tells you as he walks toward the thermostat. “you know you technically live here. you can adjust this if you want.”

“i know,” you nod, watching cheol move it to an acceptable temperature. 

“so why didn’t you?” he asks.

“i uh, didn’t think about it.”

“no?”

“that, and i don’t...know..how to use it...” you mumble, hoping cheol drops it.

“you don’t know how to use a thermostat?” he teases with that perpetual smirk he seems to always wear around you.

“no, and at this point in my life i think it’s too late to learn,” you say. “thank you for fixing it tonight, hopefully i won’t wake up frozen in the morning.”

you try to turn and head back to bed, but cheol grabs you by the back of your shirt and pulls you toward his warm chest. he places an arm around you lightly, turning you so you’re staring at the thermostat, trying very hard to ignore cheol’s direct stare as he speaks again.

“it’s easy sweets, just push this notch,” he demonstrates, “then push the up and down buttons to change the temperature. this is good for when you want it to be cool, but if you want to clean out my wallet you can keep it a couple degrees cooler.” he finishes and turns his head back toward you again, and you notice just how close he is. you’re afraid of moving, of speaking, but cheol takes care of that for you. “any questions?”

“yeah, can you move your arm?” you whisper. 

“no,” he whispers back. “why are you whispering?”

“because i’m scared?” cheol looks at you confused. “i’m afraid you’re gonna put me in a headlock.”

“you want me to?” he laughs, finally stepping back to give you some space. “do you need extra blankets or anything?”

“ah, no,” you reply. “i wanted to find my box of hoodies but i have no idea where it is, so the blankets in mingyu’s room will be fine.”

“you need a hoodie?” cheol asks, and without giving you a chance to respond he disappears into his room. he comes out with a mound of blue fabric in his hands before pushing it into your arms. “use this.”

“no, i can’t-”

“take it,” he says firmly. “or i’ll be forced to keep you warm myself.” at the sound of that threat, you hastily pull the hoodie on before thanking cheol and ducking back into your room for the night. he stands out in the hallway, smiling to himself.

-

you’re busy for a few days after that, finally settled at your brother’s place and able to focus back on work and finding back up apartments if the other place falls through. you’re not home much, and by the end of the week joshua sits you down to convince you that you need to go out. 

“josh, i’ve had such a long week,” you start to justify. “i don’t wanna go out this weekend. i’m afraid i’d fall asleep at the club.”

“no, no, i didn’t mean anything like that,” he clarifies. “i think you need to go on a date.”

“why?” you ask, a little shocked. joshua never cared about your love life, mostly just judging from afar (and sometimes not so afar). you tend to keep that part of your life private anyway, so it’s not like you let joshua be a part of it outside of obligatory meet the partner nights with your family.

“i don’t know,” he shrugs, “i just think you’d enjoy it. i actually have this friend-”

“oh god, please don’t do this-” you start to complain, afraid josh is about to set you up with cheol.

“no, no, hear me out,” josh continues. “he’s your age, he’s sweet, he’s cute i guess, and i think you’d really like him.”

“so i’m guessing you have all of this planned?” you ask, and joshua smiles.

“be ready tomorrow at 8. he’s picking you up, and i’ll be at jeonghan’s if you want to bring him back-”

“don’t say that please,” you request, holding your hand up. “i’ll go on the date but i don’t wanna hear my brother insinuate i’m gonna have sex at his apartment.”

“i didn’t say anything, you’re the one that insinuated,” joshua laughs as he gets up, passing behind you and kissing the top of your head as he goes to his room. “you’re gonna have a great time, sis.”

-

despite not wanting to go on this date, you were nervous. you don’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of this guy, because he’s friends with your brother and anything embarrassing will be brought to joshua and used to ridicule you for the rest of your life. you also don’t wanna write this guy off before you meet him, because he could be nice. maybe.

that fire is quickly put out when you actually meet the guy. his name is chan, but he claims josh and all their friends call him dino. you wanted to ask why, but you were afraid of the answer. you just smiled politely and tried to lock up quickly, hoping that the faster you move the quicker this date will be over. 

at the sound of the front door closing, cheol is stirred from his nap. he didn’t have any big plans, but he had gone to the gym earlier and exhausted himself so he thought he deserved some rest. he assumed the door sound meant you or joshua was home, but after checking he realized it was just him. he wonders for a moment if he should check on you, but he decides against it. instead he takes a shower and starts working on dinner, choosing a chill night to rest since he has the place to himself. 

meanwhile, your date is going horribly. first of all, chan was super awkward walking with you to his car, and then he didn’t speak much on the ride to dinner. oh, well, he did, except that was only his road rage coming out. you heard this man say more cuss words in a fifteen minute car ride than you’ve heard from anyone else all year. he’s said fuck more times than he’s said your name, and quite frankly you’re not confident he knows what it is. 

once you get to the restaurant, chan basically leaves you in the car. you’re not a damsel in distress, you don’t need a man to open your door for you, but it would be nice if the man you’re on a date with would at least wait until you’re out of the car to head toward the restaurant. you make it to the curb and don’t know where chan has gone until he pops out of the restaurant asking an annoyed, “you coming?”

once you’re seated, things don’t get much better. the waitress is pretty, and she’s obviously more interested in chan than you are. you’ve given up on the date by this point, but you think you can get a free meal out of it, so you keep suffering. when he’s not flirting with the waitress, chan is mansplaining to you and gesturing so wildly you’re afraid he’s going to knock everything off the table. he tries asking you questions but keeps talking over you, and when he does let you speak he either looks offended or checks his phone. before your appetizers come, you’re ready to leave.

“what did i do to deserve this?” you text joshua as you half listen to chan describe the most boring thing in the most cocky way possible. you hope joshua will respond, but there’s nothing. 

“are you mad at me? is that why you tricked me into going on the worst date of my life?” you text again, and still no response. 

“hey, that’s kind of rude,” chan says, and you can feel your blood start to boil.

“weren’t you on your phone when i was talking earlier?” you ask in disbelief, and he shakes his head. 

“no, i wasn’t. because that’s rude,” he repeats. you want to groan and slam your head on the table, but you refrain. “whatever. i’m going to the restroom, text away.”

that you do. you keep texting joshua, trying to annoy him into responding, but he stands tall. whatever he’s doing is more important that your horrible night. you have an infinite list in your mind of things that you would rather be doing right now, so you understand josh’s disinterest.

speaking of disinterest, you look up to find chan and see him leaned over the bar talking to another waitress. this time she’s way into it, hand on his arm and phone out to take down his number. you watch as he types it in, then pull out a barstool and take a seat. now you do groan, and without leaving the table you call your brother, ready to beg for a ride back home. 

“come on, pick up, pick up please,” you mumble, hoping beyond hope that joshua will be your knight in shining armor. you get his voicemail and leave behind some choice words before slamming your phone down on the table, frustrated tears threatening to fall. you’re still new to this part of town, so your brother is your only lifeline right now. you don’t trust your ability to walk home without getting snatched, and you know that calling any of your friends would mean sitting here for at least an hour while they come get you. you’re about to go hide in the bathroom when you think of one other option.

seungcheol.

you don’t know where he is or what he’s doing tonight, but you find the “temporary roomies” chat that josh put you into and call cheol from there. you start the same plea, whispering pick up over and over, but cheol answers on the second ring.

“hey sweets,” you can tell he’s smiling. “what’s going on, you and josh having fun without me?”

“cheol, hi, listen,” you start, “josh set me up on a blind date and the guy is a dick and-”

“what did he do?” cheol cuts you off, and you tell him about the car ride, the attitude, and now his interest in any woman that’s not you. “fuck him. fuck your brother too. where are you? i’m on my way.”

“cheol, no, i was mostly calling to see if josh was home-”

“send me the address, y/n,” he says firmly. “i’ll be there soon.”

he wasn’t lying. it feels like only a few minutes have passed when there’s a commotion at the door and you see cheol stalking through the restaurant looking for you. you gather your things and stand, and chan sees you out of the corner of his eye. he comes rushing over just as cheol reaches you, and it’s almost comical watching this stare down as chan gets closer.

“come on, we’re leaving,” cheol tells you, pushing a helmet into your hands.

“what is this?” you ask, eyeing chan awkwardly. 

“hey, pal, we’re on a date, so she’s not going anywhere,” chan tells cheol, and he laughs in his face. 

“sorry, pal, date’s over,” he says, pushing chan back lightly. “go back to the waitress. we’re done here.” cheol doesn’t wait to hear what other bullshit chan might try to say. instead he grabs you by the wrist and guides you out of the restaurant to a motorcycle propped up outside. he looks at you smoothly and motions to the helmet. “i said put that on, doll. can’t ride without protection.”

“o-ok,” you stutter, placing the helmet over your head delicately. cheol stops you and turns you toward him, clicking the helmet into place under your chin, feeling his fingers on your neck sends a tingle down your spine, and you do your best to ignore it. 

“there you go,” he whispers, satisfied with his work. he grabs your head in both hands and playfully shakes you from side to side, smirking as he says, “quick road test, sorry.”

“cheol, you’re crazy,” you laugh, thankful for the distraction. “i didn’t know you drove a bike. this is cool.”

“glad you like it,” he says as he hops on. “now come on, let’s go home before i go beat that loser up.” 

you carefully and tentatively hold onto cheol’s shoulder as you sling your leg over the seat, sliding down accidentally so your chest is pressed firmly to his back. you grab onto his other shoulder and wait, thinking cheol will leave any second. 

“can’t hold on like that,” he seems to whisper, looking at you over his shoulder. “you’ll fall off.”

“well i don’t wanna bother you-”

“please,” you hear him scoff, and then he’s pulling your arms down to his waist. he even takes the liberty of lacing your hands together over his stomach so it’s easier for you to hold on. and suddenly you feel very warm. you can feel the outline of his muscles through his shirt, and being so close to him is getting you drunk off of whatever shampoo or cologne he’s wearing. 

“cheol,” you say before he kicks off, and he’s looking back at you again. “i’m sorry about this. thank you for coming to get me.”

“anytime,” he says sweetly, his eyes flicking to your lips briefly. “now hold on tight.”

before you know it, cheol is kicking off and zooming down the near empty street, ripping a scream of surprise and joy out of you. you thought you’d be petrified right now, but this is actually exhilarating. you’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline of the motorcycle ride or the proximity to cheol, but you almost feel lightheaded. you’re shrieking and laughing like this is a rollercoaster, and there’s a smile plastered on cheol’s face as he listens. 

when you get to a red light, cheol slows down and instructs you to keep your feet up as he places his firmly on the ground. he looks back at you as best he can and asks, “having fun?”

“this is incredible,” you smile. “do an extra lap. i don’t wanna go home yet.”

“yeah?” cheol asks happily, and you nod.

“wait, unless you had plans!” you say. “oh my god, cheol, i’m so sorry, i didn’t even consider that you might have been busy, oh god. i should’ve asked, i should’ve-”

“stop talking,” he tells you. “i’m glad you called. i’d do this for you every day of the week if you needed it.”

“thank you,” you say meekly as cheol revs the bike before carefully driving again. you ride and listen to the sound of the city get whipped by around you, watching the lights and realizing how much you’re enjoying yourself. you lay your chin on cheol’s shoulder and think about the butterflies in your stomach, noticing that they’re going more wild now than they ever have before. 

when you get back to the apartment, you’re immediately met with the smell of food. you’re about to cuss joshua out, assuming he had been home this whole time, until cheol walks ahead of you into the kitchen and asks, “did you get to eat on this horrible mistake i just saved you from?”

“hey, whoa, i was doing this because of my brother,” you say defensively. “it wasn’t my mistake, i was bamboozled.”

“you could’ve said no,” cheol shrugs as he leans against the doorway. then he holds your gaze and asks, “why didn’t you say no?”

“i-i don’t know,” you reply, turning away because cheol’s stare is too heavy for your right now. “i guess, yeah, i did it because i thought it would make josh happy since he set it up, but...i don’t know. it would be nice to have someone, i guess.”

“to have someone?” cheol smirks, taking a step or two closer to you.

“yeah, like have someone be mine,” you say shyly, looking up to find cheol closer than you expected. he stands in front of you, smirk hanging off his lips, arms loosely crossed over his broad chest. 

“you have me,” he says, moving so close to you that you can feel his breath on your lips. he holds your gaze, waiting for you to make a move. awkwardly, you lean in, lips almost brushing. you get nervous and try to back away but cheol quickly grabs you by the chin and whispers, “and i’ve got you” before connecting your lips. your hands fall to his chest, obliviously rubbing your hands over his muscles. his touch to your chin stays gentle but firm, holding you in place so he can devour your lips. you’re breathless quick, but you don’t want to pull away. the sound of keys in the front door scare you out of your daze, and you separate from cheol like you’ve been shocked. joshua walks in, unaware (or is he?) of what he just interrupted. pleased with himself, he looks from you to cheol and back to you before asking, “so...how was your night?”

-

you’ve been avoiding cheol. you can’t believe you kissed him, and you can’t believe you liked it. you liked it so much that you’re afraid of what might happen if you’re around him again, because nothing can happen. he’s your brother’s best friend! it’s like reverse bro code to date your brother’s friend. that would be...weird? and yet here you are, daydreaming about it. 

cheol knows what you’re doing. he knows you’ve been spooked, and he’s annoyed. now that he’s had a taste of you he only wants more, so you hiding from him when he’s out of his room or only leaving yours when he’s in the shower or asleep is really getting on his nerves. you can’t avoid him forever, but damn it if you’re not gonna try. 

you’re currently speedrunning all of your chores, trying to clean the bathroom while your laundry is on and in between you’re washing all of your dirty dishes. you’re doing this because you know cheol will come out of his room soon to go to the gym, so you’re hoping to be tucked away safely in your room before that happens. however, the biggest man in the apartment still manages to move like a mouse, so you turn around to put some plates away and find cheol leaning against the kitchen counter, watching you intently. 

“fuck you, stop sneaking up on me!” you shriek. “i’m serious about that bell now. wear loud shoes or something, god.”

“why, so you can hear me coming and hide?” he asks seriously, and you fall silent. you join him on the other side of the room, stretching to put the plates in the cabinet. cheol keeps watching, realizing this is the first time he’s seen you show so much skin. shorts pulled up just barely over your ass, like usual, driving him insane, like usual. but now you’re just wearing a sports bra on top, and cheol doesn’t miss the way you’re giving him the perfect view of your chest. he’s unapologetically staring, and without facing him you mumble telling him to stop. “i can stare if i want.”

“well can you stop, please?” you beg, turning and crossing your arms over your chest, just pressing your cleavage up more. 

“baby, work with me here,” he groans. “you can’t kiss me like that the other night and then hide from me. and you can’t look like that and not expect me to stare.”

“stop telling me what i can and can’t do,” you grumble, trying to remember what you were about to do. you start to walk away but cheol grabs you lightly by the wrist, and you ask nicely, “let me go.”

“you can leave,” cheol encourages. “i’m not holding on tight.”

but you stay right where you are, a few steps away from cheol. his hand slides down from your wrist to lace his fingers with yours. he squeezes your hand sweetly before tugging you back in front of him, a stupid smirk gracing his handsome face. 

“hi beautiful,” he smiles, making you blush. “so tell me. am i a bad kisser or something?”

“what?” you ask, shocked he would even think that. “n-no, why?”

“well,” he sighs, hands sliding around your waist too quick for you to object, “it’s just that we kissed, and i thought it was pretty sexy, and then you just disappeared on me. which is amazing considering we live together right now.”

“i’m good at teleporting,” you joke, and cheol pinches your hip. 

“answer me, y/n,” he tries again. “why are you hiding?”

“because you’re joshua’s friend,” you say with a face. “i can’t date you.”

“who said anything about dating?” cheol smiles. “we’ve got two beds, sweets. take your pick.”

“you can’t be serious.”

“you don’t want to?” cheol asks, seemingly dragging you closer to himself. he slots his leg between yours, leans in close and asks, “so if i check your panties right now, they wouldn’t be wet?”

“cheol, i-”

“hm?” he asks, pulling back enough to look right in your eyes. “you don’t want this, just say the word and i’m gone. but if you do, baby, please let me do this.”

“joshua can’t know,” you whisper fast before you’re grabbing cheol and kissing him again. his hands slide from their spot on your waist to cup your ass, nudging your core over his thigh. you whimper at the slight drag, and cheol tenses his thigh as he brings your hips forward again. 

“i don’t even need to put my hand down your pants to know you’re wet,” he says proudly. “you ok with soaking my thigh a little bit first, baby?” you nod, and he tsks. “you need to use your words. not gonna do anything unless i know you want it.”

“let me keep going,” you say breathlessly, and cheol easily obliges. he dives back into your lips, hands gripping your ass to keep you grinding over his thigh. you get lost in the pressure between your legs, but you don’t want to be interrupted like you were last time. you try to break from cheol’s lips but he brings a hand up to keep you in place, doing his best to memorize the shape of your lips with his. you realize you need to get his attention a different way, so you reach down to cup his cock through his shorts. he hisses at the contact, lips pulled from yours. “cheol, stop.”

“what, what’s wrong?” he asks, worried. 

“let’s go to my room,” you say with a nod, and his eyes shimmer with lust and a bit of glee. he’s dragging you down the hallway with him, doing his best not to tear your clothes off and leave a trail. once he’s in your room, you push him back lightly so you can be sure to shut the door. cheol takes this time to lay back on your pillows, patting his thigh to invite you back. you join him on the bed, ready to straddle him and go back to grinding down on his stupidly thick thigh, but he stops you. 

“shorts off,” he instructs, and you pull them off eagerly. “let me see your panties.” your legs on either side of his, you sit up and lean back, hoping cheol gets what he wants. he hums and nods when he sees the wet patch, grabbing for your waist to pull you back over his leg. “let’s get you warmed up a little more, need you ready to ride me soon.”

cheol brings your core back down to his thigh, guiding your movements as you whine on top of him. you’re not sure what to do with your hands, so you let one of them wander up to push your bra over your chest, playing with your nipple as cheol guides you agonizingly slow. you try to bounce and get more friction but that makes him hold you down tighter and your whines get louder. 

“that’s it baby, show me how pretty you are when you come and then i’ll give you my cock,” he growls out, a hand slipping down to push past the waistband of your panties. he swipes a finger down to play with your clit and he moans when he feels how wet you are. “all this for me, pretty girl?”

“yes, for you, just like that,” you moan, “make me come please, need to come.”

“you can come,” cheol coaxes. “just waiting on you.” he applies a little more pressure over your clit, and then you’re shaking above him, a soundless gasp left on your lips. as you try to blink away the spots in your eyes, you hurriedly help cheol get undressed, crawling down to his cock before he can stop you. you pull his boxers down as he takes his shirt off, and you gasp when you see his size. you grab him by the base and take a taste, kitten licking his tip and driving him crazy. he wants to wrap his hands in your hair and guide you over his cock, but an equal part wants to pull you up just so he can feel your pussy clenching around him. he lets you decide the pace though, hissing through his teeth as you keep licking him, until you’re ready to swallow his cock little by little. you get halfway down before you need to pull back, and you’re worried he won’t fit. 

“not to feed your ego or anything,” you say after popping off of his cock, “but you’re really big.”

“no that definitely feeds my ego.”

“i don’t think you’re gonna fit,” you say, worried. 

“well get in my lap and we’ll find out, sweets,” he says, reaching for you to help you up and over his legs again. he holds his cock still for you as you line him up with your entrance, and you glance at him one last time, still concerned. “take it slow. i know you can do it.”

“but-”

“baby, i’m letting you pick the pace,” he laughs. “if it were up to me i would’ve slammed you down on my cock already.”

“hmm someone’s horny,” you joke, and cheol thrusts up in retaliation. you gasp at the feeling of his tip at your entrance, and you do what he says. you take it slow, holding your breath as you feel him stretch you out with every inch. 

“how you feeling baby?”

“good,” you gasp out.

“make sure you breathe,” cheol reminds you, and you nod as you take a few deep breaths. he can feel every movement on his cock, and it’s driving him insane to not be fully inside you right now. he tries to push you down a little further, but you cry out and he stops. he gives you a moment to adjust, and you move on your own when you’re ready. you keep pushing down, taking more and more. “you’re doing so good baby.”

“it’s too big,” you gasp out, looking down to see how much you have left to go.

“no it’s not.”

“but it is,” you whine, trying to pull up completely. that’s the last straw for cheol though, because he grips your hips and slams you down over his cock, your clit even grinding over his pubic bone slightly. you shudder at the feeling, shocked speechless at the feeling of cheol’s cock so deep inside you. he helps you ride him at first, but you take over and start a steady pace. you don’t think you’ve ever felt someone this deep before, and your body feels like it’s on fire. 

“you can take it, that’s it,” he encourages, and you pick up the pace. cheol starts meeting you halfway, adjusting so he can hit your core just right. when he thrusts up and you almost fall over on top of him he knows he’s found the right spot, doing his best to keep his pace steady. he pulls you down so you’re caging him in, and he lays your head on his chest as he takes over, thrusting into you so fast you start seeing stars. you’re moaning into his chest, maybe drooling a little too, and it’s driving him insane. you feel so good around him, so warm, so tight, so wet. the sounds of your pussy are embarrassing to you and intoxicating to him, he wishes he had the patience to lay between your legs and lick you clean before fucking you again. but he’ll save that for later. for now, he needs to find a place to come. “where do you want me?”

“stomach,” you mumble into his chest, sitting back up with your hands on his pecs. “gonna come?”

“if you come first, yeah,” cheol nods. he focuses on bringing you closer, grabbing one of your hands off his chest and guiding it to your lips. you open, and he tells you to suck. after you’ve wet your middle and ring finger, cheol brings them down to your clit, leading your movements and applying pressure as he wants. it’s so sexy, letting him lead you like this, and the way he’s staring at you is making your chest tingle, and his cock is still buried deep inside you as you start getting closer. when cheol pulls you down with his free hand, connecting your lips again, you start to come, whimpering into his mouth as the waves crash over you. he works you through it, giving you only a second or two to rest before he’s pumping you again, chasing his own release. he pulls out and immediately starts stroking his cock, coming with a quiet gasp. you shudder as you feel his come land across your stomach, some even hitting your pussy lips. you lean back to let him see his masterpiece, and cheol looks pleased. 

“let me get a washcloth,” you mumble, moving to get up. once you’re off of him, cheol springs into action, guiding you to lay back down. 

“no, you’ll be sore soon, let me do it,” he says before ducking out of your room. he comes back with a wet washcloth and waters for you both, which you take graciously. he cleans you up carefully, and then he joins you back on the bed. the last thing you remember before falling asleep is cheol pushing your hair back, smiling at you softly.

-

you wake up the next morning to a knock at your door, followed by another louder knock.

“what?” you groan, rolling over to face the door just as joshua pops in. 

“morning to you too,” he yawns. “i’m getting breakfast. text me what you want.”

“mhm,” you yawn in reply. “close my door.”

josh leaves without doing what you asked, and there’s a beat of silence before you hear the front door close. you feel hands wrap around your waist, pulling you into a strong, warm, bare chest. cheol pops his chin onto your shoulder, cheesing as he asks, “you think he knew i was here?”

[journeydb]

May 18 2023 Boulder County

Happy First Birthday, Maple! She was delighted to receive this tricycle and I was happy that Katie sent me a picture of her riding it. We are grateful that our little granddaughter completed her first pass around the sun today with a history of a very healthy and happy life so far!

Bruce and I made a video that I sent to Katie saying Happy Birthday to Maple and we'll say it in person in a few days. Katie and Hobie wanted to spend today alone with her, which is understandable.

I really love my little study in the wing of our house on the other side of the meditation garden. It gives me my own space to work, write, ruminate, and meditate, and now it's also where Matilda lives because she still hasn't become comfortable with our "kittens", who have grown up to be pretty big cats.

While I'm not really much of a painter, there was a time when I took "Passion painting" classes and I loved the experience, which seemed more like art therapy than anything else. It was during one of the more challenging times of my life and the painting helped to keep me sane. I was also reading "My Geisha" at the time and that inspired the painting that hangs on the wall of my study, just above my grandmother's rocking chair, which is one of the only things of hers that I am lucky to still have.

I also had fun painting this jungle scene, with all the animals, including snakes, monkeys, butterlies, and spiders. The kangaroo mother represents me and the little joey in her pouch represents Hobie. It fits well with the wooden banana tree we brought back from Bali many years ago.

This afternoon my friend, Virginia, and I did a site visit to HomeAhead at St. Andrews Presbyterian Church and spent time with their Executive Director, Mary, and the chair of their board and founder of the organization, Joe. Virginia and I are on the Board Development Resource Team at Social Venture Partners and we signed up to help Mary and Joe by training their board on the responsibilities of board members and the best practices of effective boards.

HomeAhead is a truly unique nonprofit organization and I'm happy for the chance to work with them. They collect and provide household necessities to formerly unhoused residents of our community when they move into apartments provided by other organizations which work with this population. HomeAhead provides furniture, bedding, tableware, and other things which help turn the apartments into homes for their clients.

We toured the big storage space on the grounds of St. Andrews, which is only one of four they have in various locations and then we went into the church to see the rooms which were completely full of housewares.

Virginia and I will work on our presentation this week to be prepared to present it at the HomeAhead board meeting next week. I'm grateful for this opportunity to help build capacity at one of my now favorite nonprofits in Boulder County.

[lover-of-mine]

New phone pros: new phone

New Phone cons: setting up new phone

[nonbinaryeye]

Forsaken Scholar and Beholding Sailor

Written for @lonelyeyesweek

Day 6 - Entity Swap

One of them spends most of the year travelling all around the world seeing all its wonders. The other one stays locked in the Institute. It is not that hard to guess which one of them serves to the Eye and which one serves the Lonely…

Read on AO3

…

Peter Lukas loves traveling around the world with his ship. What could be better and more fitting for a servant of the Eye than to sail through the seas as he pleases,  discovering all the hidden secrets of the most forgotten places on the Earth, gaining forgotten Knowledge and Seeing all the wonders the world has to offer with his own Eyes. And the most importantly of course – also feeding his patron with different flavours of the worries, fears and traumas people are experiencing in the different countries.

As amazing as it is to cross over the ocean all the way there and back, one of his favourite places is still the city of London. It is not because the sight of the city would be that amazing or wonderful – far from it. However it is one of the most monitored cities in the world and how could the soul of a Beholder not appreciate that? Knowledge that he cannot even cross a street without dozens of cameras – from ATM, from nearby stores, the traffic ones– turning its Eye on him, it's truly delightful!

It is strange though how he chose from all the places to build his Institute here as well. True, in two hundred years London certainly changed a lot but it was hardly quiet, peaceful or abandoned back then. As always Peter is curious about his intention and as always he sees it as one more reason to not to tell him anything.

Whistling he approaches the Magnus Institute – quite a big building in the middle of the city – which you could somehow still easily miss if you did not know exactly where to look for it. He opens the door with an elbow as both his hands are preoccupied carrying a big box containing few things he picked up on his travels.

Peter never felt the particular need to hoard the artefacts. He is the servant of the Eye. The point is therefore to See to witness everything with his own Eyes. There is no need for that. Though lately he always makes sure to grab a few interesting or possibly cursed objects. It would be rude to show up after such a long time without appropriate gifts.

“Hello, I am here to see my husband!” he announces loudly to the receptionist. She winces and looks around in fear that someone will blame her for such a loud visitor. As always there is still no one around.

“I… uhm… who?” she hesitantly turns back at Peter who is cheerfully smiling.

“You know, James-… no, I think it is Elias now… Elias Butcher? Boucher? Budget? I don’t know why he always has to pick the worst names.”

“Uh… do you mean… Elias Bouchard?”

“Yes! That sounds about right… even though… are you sure it is not Butcher?” Peter grins while the woman on the reception desk continues staring at him in disbelief.

“I didn’t know Mr Bouchard is married.”

“Oh, you didn’t? That is very unfortunate for you then. He hates when people know too much about him.”

“What you mean by it… uh… I- I will announce to you…”

“It is alright! I will find my way. See you around.”

Peter winks at her since his hands are still full and whistling again he turns around leaving a mildly confused, mildly terrified woman behind.

The Institute is a maze. Full of corridors leading in the same direction and full of others leading to dead ends. Full of offices which seemed way too big for just one person but too small to fit there two. Full of empty rooms or doors with no room behind them. One could easily get lost there. Even a basic task might take hours considering how far away all seems all the basic utilities form each other.

What luck that Peter Knows the way very well and in a couple of minutes through a few shortcuts he stands in front of the door leading to the office of the Head of the institute. Or at least he thinks these are the doors… They all look exactly the same and of course that there is no sign, no plate with name trying to give any guest any sense of space.

He kicks in the door a few times and when he hears nothing he tries to open it again with his elbows. To his surprise the door is not even locked!

“Hello Jonah!” Peter cheerfully greets the man who is frowning at some documents on his desk. On the first look he seemed to be the least remarkable person that ever lived – he is of rather small posture, dressed in a boring grey suit matching the colour of his eyes and hair that lost the bright ginger colour quite some time ago. But one cannot always trust the first impression as he also appears to be in his forties and claims to be named Elias Bouchard.

From all the people Peter ever met, Jonah Magnus is the most fascinating and charming one. It has taken Peter a while to get through his dull and cold demeanour but once he has he could no longer unsee his sharp wits and occasionally even a bit nicer and sweeter side.

“You are here already? Haven’t you left like yesterday?” Jonah does not even look up and Peter cannot help himself but smile over the familiarity of his act.

“It has been three whole months! Have you not missed me, oh fog around my lighthouse, cliffs around my port, barnacle-”

“No for a fact I was very happy without you and your ridiculous names of endorsement,” he sighs dramatically but corners of his mouth twitch a bit upwards.

“I did miss you. I was writing you that on the postcards.”

“Yes I know. I could not miss the overflowing mailbox. Once again I beg you not to send me anymore of them. I don’t even know where to put them…”

“Have you not say the last time you are throwing them all away?” It is always cute to see Jonah’s pale skin to colour with blush.

“Yes! Yes I am. That is what I meant. My bin is overflowing with them.”

“Feel free to throw them away, I will send you new ones!”

“That is exactly what I beg you not to do!”

Peter decides not to tease Jonah any longer; he is starting to look a bit exasperated and he knows better than to push his buttons too much. One time when Peter crossed the limit of Jonah’s tolerance, the servant of the Lonely filled the office with fog. It took the servant of the Eye a few minutes to get out and when he did he found himself in front of the Institute with doors locked. He would rather not repeat that. And so to offer peace Peter finally puts the box down on the desk. By the sound it makes it is clear that it is much heavier that one might guess by the ease with which the sailor has carried it.

“I am bringing you gifts!”

Jonah looks unimpressed. “I am not interested. Please could you find some other place to throw all your useless crap in than my institute?”

“I thought your institute is supposed to research the supernatural? I am bringing you cursed and priceless artefacts to study and all I ask in return is your love. Should you not be more grateful?”

“First of all your price is too high. Plus I have plenty of things to study for decades since you must bring me something every time…”

Saying that the institute’s approach to supernatural research is specific or interesting would be an understatement. As far as Peter knows Jonah Magnus started the Institute way back in 1818 shortly after learning about the Fears. Jonah pretended he was only interested in studying the supernatural even though he already had a scheme in mind regarding how to serve his chosen patron. He decided to lure in scholars with the promise of achieving great discoveries. Then he made sure to make their life just a lonely misery with them sacrificing their life in pointless study isolated from society.

Peter also knows Jonah was somehow acquainted with his ancestor Mordechai Lukas, who decided to sponsor his project in exchange of sharing all the knowledge and discoveries the institute will create as a byproduct of making scholars lonely. The deal lasts till now and that is how he and Jonah met at first… But that is all Peter knows about his past as Jonah is not usually very talkative concerning his past.

Forsaken has granted him a long and lonely life to serve its cause. Though lately Peter is doing his best to sometimes interrupt the lonely part of it… He changes name from time to time for legal reasons. Not that it is even necessary as no one ever looks into the institute and its matters way too closely. And if someone really even notices its existence and starts asking way too many questions it usually only leads to their mysterious disappearance.

“You can always hire more people to sort it out? I sometimes doubt you really have any employees at all. I rarely run into anyone…”

“That is exactly the point. I do not really want to risk they could meet. Now regarding your gift…”

“Ah well as much as it pains me if you do not truly want it…” Peter put on a theatrical look of tragedy and grabs the box again. Jonah raises his hand to stop him. Their fingers brush and he is as cold as ever.

“It is fine… since you have already brought it here. Just put it in the artefact storage on your way out. Someone will get to it eventually.”

Peter lets go of the box again rather grabbing Jonah’s hands into his leaning closer over the desk. Jonah is still doing his best to look unbothered but when Peter kisses his hands he cannot help himself but smile over the silly behaviour of his partner.

“We can always get a divorce if you despise my affection so much, my beloved husband.” Peter gently strokes the golden ring on Jonah’s finger.

“No need. Time spent together with you is so short when you live as long as I do that it hardly matters anyway.”

“It hardly matters to you. It still matters to me, my dear Jonah.”

“I could not care less, Peter,” Jonah grabs his collar and finally pulls him into a kiss.

[atlafan]

My Everything - Part Nineteen

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out.

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, and smut

Words: 11.5K

a/n: I can’t believe this is the second to last part! 

Masterpost

You always really liked the beginning of November. The leaves had changed, and it was the middle of the semester. You also, finally, looked and felt your best for the first time in a while. Since Jessica was over six months, she was able to go to day care at the college with Jack. Harry really missed bringing her with him to work, but at least he still had Buster. You couldn’t believe that next fall Jack would be going to preschool. There was a nice place in Milton you and Harry found that you’d enroll him in once spring rolls around.

At the end of your work day, you go to pick the kids up from daycare. Jack was coloring with Ryan, like always. You were happy to see they had stayed such good friends. You told yourself you’d do your best to keep them in contact next year since they’d be going to different preschools.

“Mumma!” Jack exclaims.

“Get your backpack, sweetie, we gotta grab your sister from the other room.” You bend down and kiss his forehead. He holds your hand as you walk over to the next room where the kept the babies. “Ah, there’s my sweet girl. How was she Anthony?”

“A doll, as usual. She giggled a bunch, and took a great nap.”

“That’s what I love to hear. Hi, angel.” You cuddle her to your chest. She was very excited to see you. “Let’s get you both in the car, come on.”

Jack is patient as usual while he waits for you to get Jessica situated in her car seat. You pick him up to put him in his. You furrow your brows at your backseat.

“How the hell am I supposed to do this with three?” You ask yourself. “I’d need to get a car with another row of seats.” You sigh and get into the front seat.

“Three what, Mumma?”

“Oh, nothing, baby doll. Mummy’s just talking to herself.” You laugh.

You and Harry hadn’t really talked about another kid in a while. Things in the house had finally gotten into a decent routine. You were almost scared to bring it up.

“Jack?”

“Yes, Mumma?”

“Do you like having a little sister so far?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I just don’t like when she gets loud.”

“Like when she cries for a long time?”

“Mhm.”

“I don’t like it either.” You chuckle. “Her bottom teeth are coming in, that’s why she’s been crying a little more than usual. It can be a little uncomfortable on her gums.”

“Did I do that when I was baby?”

“Mhm, we used to freeze carrots for you to gnaw on.” You shake your head at yourself. “Sometimes we’d throw a wet rag in the freezer too, anything to soothe you, honey. You used to bite on Daddy’s fingers too.”

“I did?!”

“Yeah.” You laugh. “It was cute. Jessica hasn’t seemed to want to do that. The teething rings work just fine.”

“I like her.” He looks at his sister and smiles.

“Me too…would you ever want another?”

“Sister?”

“Or a brother…I don’t really get to decide…”

“I want her to get big so we can play.”

“I want the complete opposite. I want you small forever.”

“But I’m a big boy, Mumma.”

“Yes.” You sigh. “A very big boy. Dr. Philips thinks you’re going to be very tall, and your sister may end up a shrimp like me.”

“Daddy’s tall.”

“Daddy’s very tall.” You smile.

You liked your chats with Jack on the way home from work. You’ll miss them a lot once he’s in preschool, but you didn’t need to think about that just yet. You hit a little bit of traffic on the way home. You’re grateful when you pull into the garage. You get Jessica into your arms and Jack out of his car seat.

“Hang your backpack up please when you get up into the kitchen, and then wash up for snacky.” You tell him. “I gotta feed this one too. Are you hungry, darling?” Jessica makes a noise and you nod.

You get jack some cut up grapes and then get Jessica a bubby. Once she’s burped you set her down in her bouncy so you can go use the bathroom.

“Wanna see what I colored today, Mumma?”

“Of course I do!” You plop on the floor with him in the living room so he can show you his many drawings. “Is this our family, honey?”

“Mhm.” He beams. “There’s Daddy, you, me, Jessica, and Buster.”

“Are you riding Buster?”

“Yeah.” He giggles.

“We have to put this on the fridge for Daddy to see. He’s going to love it.” You get up and find a magnet and some space to put the picture up.

A little while later just as you’re preparing dinner while also going over ABC’s with Jack, you hear the door slam downstairs. You sigh heavily, especially when you hear Harry stomping up the stairs.

“Daddy!” Jack exclaims. You also hear Jessica getting excited from her high-chair.

Harry doesn’t even come into the kitchen. He just grumbles and goes right into the bathroom to wash up. He comes into the kitchen when he’s done, and looks at you.

“Hi.” He grunts and opens the fridge to grab a beer.

“Our son is waiting.” You nod over to Jack.

“Hey, buddy.” Harry goes over and kisses the top of Jack’s head. He looks over at Jessica and can’t help but smile when he sees her smile. He gives her a kiss as well. “What’s for dinner?”

“Roasted veggies and rice. Should be done any minute. Are you alright?”

“M’fine.” You roll your eyes at him and turn around to look at the veggies through the glass in the oven. “Shouldn’t do that in front of him, not a great habit to pick up.”

“Neither is coming home angry, and immediately grabbing a beer out of the fridge.” You cross your arms and look at him.

“Touché.” He smirks. “I had a long day. Not something I can really discuss in front of little ears.”

“Later then?”

“Yes.”

You nod and get dinner plated up. Harry helps feed Jessica while you make sure Jack’s veggies aren’t too hot. He really liked when you roasted veggies, and you were thankful he didn’t just want hotdogs all the time.

“Mm, delicious, babe.” Harry says.

“Thank you.” You whistle for Buster. “Come eat, baby.” He barks and eats the food you put out for him.

After dinner you and Harry give Jack and Jessica a bath. You lull Jessica to sleep, but Jack is allowed to stay up in bed a little longer. You come into his room and see Harry reading with him.

“Time for bed.” You say. You kiss Jack on the forehead and so does Harry. “Night, angel.”

You both creep out of his room and go downstairs. You both sit on the couch.

“Alright, tell me what happened.”

“I have two interns this semester, remember?” You hum your response. “Well, I couldn’t find either of them for a hot second, so I go to the back to see if maybe one of them was in the bathroom and maybe the other was in the storage closet. No one was in the bathroom, so I go to check the storage closet, and I see it’s locked. I grab Mariah and ask her why it would be locked during the day, and she had no idea, so I grab my keys and I open the door to find the two of them pulling their clothes back on.”

“Stop!” You gasp. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” He shakes his head. “Full on fuck fest in my storage closet. Even we haven’t fucked in there.” He scoffs. “So, I obviously had to let them both go, but that means they may not get college credit, which I sort of feel bad about…they might be able to get one or two credits since they completed half the semester. I have to come to your campus tomorrow to speak with a dean or something. And now I’m down two people right before the holidays. I’m gonna get super busy.” He sighs.

“What about a paid thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you could hire a couple of other college students and pay them hourly or something. It could just be a seasonal thing for the holidays. You’re getting new interns for the spring anyways, right?”

“True…it would only be for a couple of months I’d need to pay them. Do you know any responsible students looking for work?”

“Oh, sure, tons. I can send an email to the film club and see if any of those guys wanna make a quick buck.”

“I can’t believe I have to deal with this.” He groans.

“It’s kinda funny when you think about it.” You chuckle and he glares at you. “Oh, come on!”

“Little rabbits couldn’t keep it in their pants.”

“You remember being that age, Harry. Even in your twenties, you were like that.” You laugh.

“I wouldn’t have risked college credit like that.” He shakes his head. “Morons.”

“Did they at least feel bad?”

“They did, and they were really embarrassed. Isaac spoke to them mostly, I was too aggravated and Mariah had a client coming in.” He sighs. “I just can’t keep them on after something like that, you know?”

“No, it makes perfect sense to let them go. They need to know there are consequences to their actions. You’re doing the right thing, babe.”

“Thanks. Sorry I came home grumpy. Usually I can cool down on the train home, but everything was pissing me off, and then there was traffic from the train station back here.”

“I hit traffic on the way home too. I wonder if there was an accident or something.”

“Who the fuck knows, it’s Boston, there’s always traffic.”

“Poor thing.” You pout at him. “Come here, come lay with me.”

You lean back and rest your head on the arm of the couch, and Harry rests his head on your chest. You wrap your arms around him and rub his head and back.

“How was your day?” He mumbles.

“Good, my students are starting in on their projects. Some of them, uh, are taking bets on if or when I’ll get pregnant again.” You laugh nervously.

“Seems like an incentive thing to make bets about.” He looks up at you. “What if you weren’t able to have more?”

“I’m very honest with them, especially the students that have had me for years. They’re fine. I thought it was sweet. They like seeing pictures of our family and stuff.”

“They just like when you go on your little tangents.” He chuckles.

“What students wouldn’t?” You kiss his forehead. He props himself up to look at you. “What?”

“Your heart is, like, racing.”

“Aw, isn’t that sweet? Even after all this time you still make my heart flutter.”

“Y/N.” He sighs with a smile. “Are you trying to tell me something?” He thinks for a moment and then gasps. “Are you pregnant?”

“No! God, no…but…I’ve been thinking about maybe…what if it was time to try again?”

“I feel like we just got a routine together. Everything’s gonna change next year with Jack going to preschool. Our schedules are going to need to adjust a lot, and you wanna add a baby to the mix of that? You were pregnant during our five year anniversary so we couldn’t go anywhere. This April is gonna be our five year wedding anniversary, I was sorta hoping to take a vacation.”

“While I’m teaching? We’d have to go in March when I’m on spring break.”

“Plus, Jessica’s first birthday will be in April. We’re gonna be really busy. Jack’s still too little to help out.” He sighs. “I don’t know, the idea of it just really stresses me out.” He gets off you to sit up, and you sit up as well. “And you’ve been talking about how much you’ve loved the way you look lately, you wanna start changing all of that?”

“I told you before, I’d do it over and over.” You look down at your lap and twiddle your thumbs. “You…really don’t want another?”

“It’s not that I don’t, I just don’t think right now is a good time.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be right now.”

“Y/N.” He puts his hand over yours and you look up at him. “You know what I mean.”

“Even if I was pregnant during our anniversary, we could still go somewhere. We could go away for a weekend or something. I’d still have fun.”

“Not if you were nauseous and sweaty. Been through it twice with you now, I know how you are.”

“I just feel like I’m playing beat the clock or something. Like, I’m thirty-two, so if we got pregnant soon, then I’d be thirty-three probably when the baby’s born, and then I think that would be enough. I feel like three is the magic number. How nice for Jessica to be so close in age with a sibling, and Jack could find little ways to help if he wanted.”

“We’d be giving up our guest room.”

“We do have my office down here that could be converted if we put a small pull out in there.”

“You want my mother to sleep on a pull out?!”

“No, she could have our bed. Plus, those bedrooms are large upstairs, Jessica could share with the baby. We have one of each, so either way two could share as they got older. I’m…a little shocked you’re not jumping at the chance.”

“I just think we need to be realistic. That’s a third college fund we’d need to invest in.”

“The timing’s never going to be good, Harry.” You cross your arms. “And so what if it’s a third college fund? Do you know how much money I’ll be making by the time the kids would even be old enough to go to college? I’m set to teach two courses online this January, you know that money goes right towards those accounts.”

“I just don’t understand why you want to throw off the balance we have right now. There’s four of us, we have one of each…why do we need another?”

“Harry.” Your bottom lip starts to quiver. “I just have so much love to give, and I wanna give it to another baby.”

“You’re already spread so thin! Jack still fights for your attention anytime you hold Jessica for longer than five minutes. Now you want him to compete with two?”

“Are you sure it’s not you who wants to compete for my attention?”

“Oh, please.” He scoffs.

“Besides, I thought you liked me when I’m pregnant.” You pout.

“I like you all the time, that’s not fair.” He cups your cheek. “As much as I love the idea of having a ton of sex to get you pregnant, I just…can I have some time to think about?”

“Okay.” You lean into his touch.

“I know that’s not the answer you wanted.”

“You’re not saying no, so I’ll take it for now.” You kiss his palm and stand up. You stretch a little, really putting yourself on display for him. “Think I’m gonna turn in.”

“Me too.” He yawns. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

You both do your nightly routines and get into bed. You roll over and Harry wraps himself around you. You wanted to have sex right now, but you didn’t want him to think it was just because you wanted to make a baby. You didn’t want him thinking that was the only reason you wanted him. Maybe once he falls asleep you could go take care of yourself in the bathroom or something. No, you didn’t want some piece of plastic to get you off, you wanted him. You roll over to face him and see he’s already asleep. Of course, just like a man to fall asleep so easily. He pulls you in closer to him, but you pry away, flipping onto your back.

“You’re restless.” He mumbles with his eyes closed.

“Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you mad at me?” He opens an eye to look at you.

“Of course not.” You look at him. “I’m just…in the mood.”

“Because of the baby talk?” He smirks.

“No…just…in general.” You roll back on your side to face him. You grab one of his hands and place it between your legs. He grunts when he feels how wet you are. “Just want you, babe.” You whimper as he presses his palm against you.

“I can see that.”

He slips two fingers inside you, and you grind against him. He keeps a slow pace, just enjoying the way you feel around him. His thumb presses circles into your clit. You press your forehead to his chest to try to muffle your moans. Your nails scratch at his shoulders, causing him to groan.

“Fuck it.” He retracts his fingers from you and pushes you to lay on your back. He drags his boxers off and throws them to the floor. He practically rips the t-shirt you were wearing off.

“What do you mean fuck it?” You giggle.

“I’m gonna pump you silly and get you pregnant. I’m fuckin’ done using condoms.”

“Harry…” You cup his cheeks. “An hour ago it didn’t really seem like you wanted-“

He crashes his mouth over yours, and practically rams his tongue in your mouth to shut you up. He had his reservations, but he had such a tough time telling you no or even denying you of something you really wanted. The thought of you being so willing to put your body through this again because you wanted to carry another one of his children drove him absolutely wild. You said you had all this love to give, and so did he. He wanted to turn into another little bundle with you.

He bites your bottom lip before sitting up to give you some air. You look up at him stunned. He had a dark, lustful look in his eyes. One of his hands travels up to grip your throat.

“Got me all riled up now, gonna let me take care of it?” He asks.

“Yes.”

He grins at you and loosens his grip on your neck.

“Will you go down on me?”

“No.”

“What?!”

“Do you wanna know why we had so much trouble with the first two? I kept eating you out like every time we tried, and apparently saliva can, like, kill sperm. So, unfortunately, I can’t put my tongue on you.” He starts kissing on your neck and down your chest. “Well, can’t put my tongue on your there, at least.” He swirls his tongue around one of your nipples.

“Harry don’t suck or bite, I’m still making milk…”

He rolls his eyes as he kisses between the valley of your breasts. He kisses on the area just above your nipple and bites down hard, causing you to gasp. His hand goes back between your legs to spread you apart. He lines himself up and rubs his tip around your folds and throbbing clit before pushing inside. You let out a relieved sigh. He grabs both of your legs and throws them over his shoulders. His fingers dig into your calves as he starts thrusting in and out of you. Your head rolls back into the pillows as one of your hands travels down to lightly rub your clit.

“Christ.” He grunts. “How are you still so beautiful?” Your eyes meet his and all you do is smile at him. “I mean really, it’s just not fair.”

He drops your legs and comes to you so you’re chest to chest. His mouth is on yours again and you wrap your legs around his waist. Your hands travel to his hair as he takes over rubbing your clit.

“Can’t wait to feel your come, Harry.” You groan.

He drops his head to the crook of your neck. He nearly lost it at your words, but he needed to make sure you got yours first, not that it was a race or anything. He wanted you to feel good all over, and for a little while longer. He rocks into you in a way that hits your g-spot, making you arch up into him.

“Like that, baby girl?”

“Fuck, yes, don’t stop.”

He feels you tighten around him and he knows you’re close. He rubs your clit faster, and that’s when you lose it. A cracked gasp leaves your lips. You twitch and writhe under him as he tries to hold you down. You kiss him as his pace picks back up. You can’t remember the last time you two weren’t interrupted or had to be quick, this was amazing.

“Harry.” You whimper. You weren’t making this easy for him at all. He couldn’t hang on much longer. You were too much when you were so needy like this. “Want you to come.”

“Want me to come, angel?” He whispers in your ear and it sends a shiver up your spine.

You smirk to yourself and grab his face so he’ll look at you.

“Come on, Daddy, put another baby in me.”

“Jesus, fucckkk.”

His come shoots inside you and paints all your walls. You moan out from being able to feel it after so long. He nearly collapses on top of you. He was exhausted. He slowly slips out of you and you clamp your legs together. He rolls onto his back and he looks at you.

“That was evil.” He breathes. You look at him and chuckle. “S’not funny.”

“Yes it is. I call you Daddy all the time.”

“Yeah, in front of the kids. Little bit different in the bedroom.”

“Got you to come didn’t it?” You boop his nose.

“Didn’t need that much help, love, I was about ready to explode either way.” He reaches out to stroke your cheek. “So beautiful.” He gets up from the bed to go clean himself up, and after waiting a few minutes you do the same.

“So…you’re really into having another baby? It’s not just me wanting one?” You ask as you both face each other and cuddle up to one another.

“I want it. I was just being silly earlier.”

“No, your feelings were completely valid, honey. Sometimes I need a reality check.”

“I think…three will be enough though. I think anything more would be a lot for us, but a family of five sounds nice.”

“Technically six, can’t forget about Buster.” You chuckle.

“Right, can’t forget about our oldest.” He smiles. “Do you agree though? Three’s enough?”

“Yeah, three’s plenty.”

“As long as we’re on the same page about that, I’m good with doing it all over again.” He kisses your forehead.

“And then you can get a vasectomy.”

“Y/N.” He groans. “I don’t wanna shoot blanks.”

“But then we’d literally never have to worry.”

“Sometimes they don’t take.”

“So you’d rather me go through some kind of invasive procedure when you could just easily get a little snip?”

“Why are we talking about this now?”

“Because it’s something we’ll need to be on the same page about, Harry. I don’t wanna get an IUD or get my tubes tied. I shouldn’t have to when there’s an even easier, low risk procedure out there.” You rub your thumb over his cheek. “Just think it over, okay?”

“Okay.” He kisses your nose. “Let’s get you pregnant first, though.”

“Agreed.” You yawn and wrap yourself tighter around him. He pulls you in nice and close. Times like this it felt like before you were even ever married with kids when you’d just hold each other like this. “I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you too.” He whispers back.

//

Saturdays were for raking leaves. Jack loved being able to help Harry outside a little more now that he was a tad older. You were inside with Jessica making grilled cheese and tomato soup for everyone. She enjoyed watching you cook. Once in a while she’d whine because of her teeth.

“Need a new ring, darling girl?”

You go into the freezer for a teething ring and hand it to her. She happily puts it into her mouth to suck on. You smile at her and kiss the top of her head. You were happy she didn’t fuss when she was in her highchair. You go over to the sliding door and you love what you see. Harry tackling Jack down into one of the larger pile of leaves and them both hysterically laughing. If your ovaries weren’t ready to explode already, there sure as hell would be now. You slide the door open and step out.

“I hate to ruin the fun boys, but lunch is ready!”

“Grilled cheese!” Jack shoots up and runs towards you.

“Wash your hands please.”

He groans, but does as you say. Harry comes strolling up to you.

“You as well, Daddy.” You grin.

“Sure thing, Mummy.” He pinches your bottom and goes down the hall to wash his hands with Jack.

You cut up Jack’s sandwich for him in to long quarters. He looks at it funny.

“Why’s it like this, Mumma?”

“So you can dunk it into the soup if you want.” You blow on his cup of soup for him. “Should be cool enough.”

“Hey, do that to mine.” Harry smirks.

“Blow it yourself.” You shake your head at him. “It tastes good, Jack, see?” You dunk your own piece of sandwich into the soup. “Mm, so yummy.”

Jack watches Harry do the same, and that was enough for him. He dunks his sandwich into the soup and takes a chomp out of it. His eyes grow wide and he smiles which makes you and Harry laugh.

“Mm, that’s good, Mumma.”

“Knew you’d like it.” You smile and look at Harry. “Got much left to do out there?”

“Just need to bag it all up and drag the bags out front.”

“Do you need my help for that?”

“Nah, I should be able to manage.” He shrugs. “But thanks.”

“Mumma, Daddy said we have enough twigs for a fire later.”

“Oh, did he?” You tap your chin. “Hmm, I guess that means I’ll have to go to the store and get some marshmallows.”

“Yes!”

“You can take him while I finish the yard if you want.”

“Sure, that’ll work out well. Jessica can nap while I drive around.”

“They both can.”

“No naps.” Jack pouts.

“If you don’t nap then we can’t have a fire.” Harry says firmly. Usually you didn’t like when he would get so stern with Jack, but right now it was working for you.

“Daddy’s right, Jack. We can’t have a fire if you don’t nap.”

“Fine.” He huffs and finishes up his lunch.

Harry helps you get the two of them in the car and kisses you goodbye before getting back to work in the yard. You had Jessica strapped to your chest and Jack in the little seat in the shopping cart. You kept wondering how you might do this with three kids, but by the time a third would be born, Jack and Jessica could both sit in the shopping cart.

“Can we have s’mores, Mumma?”

“Sure, we could do that, honey.” You smile.

You walk around the store and grab all the items. Jessica was absolutely passed out, and Jack’s eyes were getting droopy. You needed to get them both back in the car stat. You just needed to grab the graham crackers.

“Shit.” You say to yourself. You couldn’t really reach the brand that Harry liked. You probably could’ve just lifted Jack up to grab them, but a man standing near you saw your dilemma.

“Need some help?”

“That would be great, thanks.” You smile as he grabs the box and hands it to you.

“Cute kids.” He smiles.

“Oh, thanks. They’re fading fast.”

“I didn’t even know they made gluten free graham crackers.”

“Yeah, my husband prefers them. They actually taste pretty good.”

The man nods as you start to walk away. You get in line and notice that he gets in line behind you. You smile at him again and he returns it. You feel his eyes burn into you as you put everything up on the belt. You were starting to feel uneasy, but you weren’t sure why. You pay for your things, and hang back a moment. You pretend to check the receipt as the man walks by you and out of the store. You notice that he doesn’t walk out to a car. He was just standing near the door. You take a deep breath. It could easily be nothing, maybe he was waiting for a ride, but you were starting to freak yourself out.

“Mumma?” Jack says sleepily.

“I just need to…” You look around. “I need to call Daddy.” You take your phone out and call Harry.

“Love? Everything alright?”

“No…this guy at the store is giving me the creeps, and I’m afraid to walk out to the car.”

“Gimme ten minutes, I’ll take an uber so I can just drive you home.”

“I’m sorry, I just-“

“It’s okay. Ten minutes, honey.”

You couldn’t believe that the man was still there, standing outside. He was definitely waiting for you. You see Harry’s uber pull up and you feel a wave of relief. Harry looked very rugged today. His scruff was due for a shave, he had his bandanna on to keep his hair back, his work boots, loose jeans, and a sweater.

“Hey.” He smiles when he comes in. “Is it the guy that’s right out there?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, gimme the keys.”

“Hi, Daddy.” Jack yawns.

“Hi, buddy.”

Harry takes your keys and grabs the couple of bags out of the cart, and also lifts Jacks out. He keeps him on his hip while he walks out with you. You don’t look at the man as you walk by, and out to the car. You get the kids in their car seats, and Harry drives you home. You were shaking slightly.

“He had to have been waiting for me.” You whisper. “I can’t even go to the grocery store now?”

“You have your pepper spray in your bag, right?”

“Yes.”

“And I showed you how to stab someone with the keys if need be.”

“It’s different when the kids are with me. If I was alone…I don’t know I probably would’ve been fine, but if something happened to me…”

“Don’t think like that.” He puts his hand on your thigh and gives it a squeeze. “What happened, did he interact with you?”

“He helped me grab the graham crackers off that top shelf. You know I can never reach those. I even mentioned I had a husband. Then he ended up in line behind me. I stayed back to see if he was planning to follow me, and he just stood there.” You shake your head and put your hand over his. “Don’t know what I would do without you.”

//

You and Harry got Jack and Jessica inside for a proper afternoon nap, and the two of you cuddled on the couch for a bit yourselves. You had calmed down from the little scare. You thought to maybe call the store tomorrow to have them check their tapes to see if that man had come in and done anything weird like that before.

“Should we invite Sarah and Niall for the fire tonight?” Harry asks, stretching out to sit up.

“Sure! I’ll text them now.” You take your phone out and text in the group chat you have to let them know they’re welcome to come by. “Probably gonna be one of the last ones. It’s starting to get too cold at night.”

“Can’t wait for Thanksgiving break. Love when we get to be home together for a few days.”

“I know, only a few weeks away now.”

“I’ve lined up a couple of interviews with those students you sent my way. I’m gonna see ‘em Monday. Hopefully they’ll refrain from fucking in the storage closet.” He rolls his eyes.

“How was your chat with the dean?”

“Fine.” He shrugs. “I tried to come see you, but I think you were teaching, and I didn’t wanna disturb you.”

“Since when do you not wanna disturb one of my lectures?” You laugh.

“Well, it’s one thing if it’s at the end of class. Those kids are paying for a proper education, you know?” He smirks.

“How considerate of you.” You crawl into his lap and straddle him. “You know…those two should be asleep for a little while longer.” You lean down to his ear as he wraps his arms around you. “When was the last time we fucked on this couch?” Your words send a shiver up his spine.

“What if he comes trotting down the stairs?”

“Buster will distract him. You know how he loves to pet and play with Buster when he first wakes up.”

“True.” His hand slide into the back of your jeans so he can grip your ass. You roll your hips down on his. “Just gotta be quiet though.”

You nod your head in understanding. You stand up briefly to take your pants and underwear off. Harry undoes his belt and zipper to take his dick out. You grab the blanket and wrap it around your back so you weren’t totally exposed, just in case. You get back on his lap. He rubs your slit to make sure you’re wet as you pump his dick.  

Once you’re both ready you slide down on him. You both grunt and moan. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close as you tuck your face into the crook of his neck. He moves you up and down on him and you whimper into him. You bite down on his soft skin and it makes him thrust up into you harder. You grip at his shoulders and make fists with the material of his sweater.

“Oh, god.” You moan and move your face too look at him. You slot your mouth over his as he continues with his movements. You rock against him to give your clit some much needed friction. “Harry.” You gasp. “Shit, oh my god.” He had you panting already, and with another sharp thrust up he had you coming around him. Your lips find his again to help capture the noises you were making.

It didn’t take him long to come after that. He lays you down puts a pillow under your knees to prop your legs up a bit. He covers your lower half with the blanket.

“Gonna have to wash that.” He chuckles and kisses your forehead. He sees your phone light up and looks at it. “Sarah and Niall are in for the fire.”

“Oh, great! This’ll be fun.”

“Daddy!” You both hear Jack call from his room.

“He must need to shit.” Harry chuckles and you swat at him. “What? You don’t think it’s funny that he only wants my help with that?”

“He gets embarrassed when I help him, and I feel terrible about it.”

“He’s just too polite to shit in front of his mum, it’s cute.”

Harry goes up the stairs to Jack’s room. He was doing a dance like he really need to use the bathroom. He had been using the actual toilet more and more, but he had a tough time going number two alone. You eventually get up and get yourself situated. You go up to check on Jessica who was making babbling noises in her crib.

“Oh, someone’s awake.” You coo. She smiles up at you. “Hi, angel. Mummy change you now.”

You lift her out of the crib and set her on the changing table. You get her all fresh and cozy in a change of clothes and carry her out of the room. You take her to the living room and sit on the floor with her. You watch as she slowly gets herself to her feet.

“Good job, Jessica! Now, walk to Mumma.” You hold your arms out for her to balance on. Harry comes down with Jack and Buster. “Come on, you can do it.” She takes little steps. She wobbles a bit, but she makes it and you scoop her up in a hug and tons of kisses.

“Hey.” Jack pouts and runs over to you.

“Oof!” He nearly knocks you down.

“Jack, that’s too rough.” Harry says and gets on the floor with everyone. He takes Jessica from you and snuggles her close. “Hi, darling girl, did you have a nice nappy?” He boops her nose and she giggles.

“Jack, why do you get so jealous?” You laugh.

“I walk all the time, and you don’t give me kisses.” He pouts.

“Oh…well, I did when you were her age. I’m sorry.” You hold him close to you and give him tons of kisses. “All better?”

“Much.” He smiles.

//

“Everyone have enough blankets?” You ask the group as everyone’s sat around the fire.

“Think we’re good, Y/N.” Niall says and pulls Jack into his lap. “Now, let’s get this marshmallow roasted.”

You had the baby monitor on your hip so you’d be able to hear if Jessica needed anything while you were all outside. You snuggle up with Harry and he hands you a s’more.

“Thank you.” You kiss him on the cheek.

“Uncle Niall?” Jack asks.

“Yes?”

“How come you and Auntie Sarah don’t have a baby?”

“Jack.” You say. “Not an okay question to ask.”

“Why?”

“It’s personal.” Harry says. “Not all adults have babies.”

“It’s okay.” Sarah says and takes Jack into her lap. “Jack, I work with lots of little kids all day long. I have so many kids that I love and that I care about. So, Uncle Niall and I didn’t really feel the need to have one of our own. Besides, we like just being an Auntie and an Uncle. We get to give all our love to you and Jessica.”

“I thought all married people had babies.”

“Not the case, bud.” Niall says.

“How come Mumma and Daddy had us, then?”

“Because your Daddy likes getting your mum pr-“

“Niall!” Sarah swats an arm at him and he starts laughing.

“Jack, come here.” You chuckle and he walks around over to you with a gooey marshmallow in his mouth. “What’s with all the questions, hm? People like to express their love for each other in different ways. Daddy and I wanted to turn our love into babies, and Sarah and Niall wanted to turn their love into, uh…” You look at them for help.

“Vacations.” Niall says. “We get to travel and see the world, and show everyone around us how much we love each other.” He grabs her hand and kisses it.

“And, we give back to others in need, Jack. Niall and I use the money that we’d spend on babies to donate to different causes. That’s another way we show our love.”

“See, honey, there’s lots of different ways to show love out there.” Harry says. “But I do like getting your mum pregnant.” He grins.

“Okay!” You stand up with Jack. “I’m taking him to bed because you two are idiots.” You shake your head and carry him inside. The three of them laugh.

“Sorry ‘bout that, hope he didn’t make you uncomfortable. It’s sorta rude to ask someone why they don’t have kids.”

“It’s okay.” Sarah shrugs. “Unfortunately we’re used to it. I can’t tell you how many of the parents, even some of the other teachers at school have told me that I’d change my mind.” She scoffs. “I don’t have those motherly instincts. I can babysit no problem, but doing it 24/7? No thanks. I’ll leave it to you guys.”

“I truthfully don’t mind just being an uncle either. I like that we can pick and go as we please, and just do things spontaneously without having to worry. I feel completely fulfilled.” Niall says.

“Me too.” She kisses his hand. You come back out shortly and pinch Harry’s arm as you sit down.

“Ow! What the fuck?” He rubs his arm before throwing it around you.

“He kept asking me why Daddy likes getting me pregnant, you fucking moron.” You take a sip of your drink. “I’m lucky he was tired. Thank god Buster likes cuddling with him or he’d never sleep.”

“Sorry.” He chuckles. “Guess I shouldn’t have been goofing like that.”

“Y/N, has Harry told you about our little plan for spring?” Niall says.

“No, what’s that?”

“We were thinking of becoming soccer coaches, getting Jack started on a team and all that.” Harry explains. “Lots of kids in this neighborhood, could be fun to start a league for the really little kids.”

“Yeah, get some skills early on.”

“But Harry…you’re not very good at soccer.”

“True, but Niall is. Gotta have a kid on the team to be a coach, so he could be my assistant coach, but do all of the actual coaching, while I would bring the snacks and make up the rosters.”

“Does Jack want to play soccer?” Sarah asks. “He really likes to draw.”

“Yeah, he’s told me a couple times, especially when we play in the backyard. He likes kicking the ball around.”

“Then I think it’s a great idea. You could pick him up from daycare and take him to whatever field the practices would be at. It would be fun to see him play on the weekends too. He’d look so cute in his little uniform.” You pout.

“It’s settled then, we’re puttin’ a soccer team together.” Niall smiles and looks at Sarah. “And you can be the cheerleader.”

“Oh, please.” She scoffs. “Y/N and I will be off to the side sipping wine in inconspicuous bottles.”

“I like the sound of that.” You giggle.

//

You were in the middle of one of your lectures when there was a knock on the door. You go to open and it see it’s one of the workers from the daycare.

“Hi, Dr. Y/L/N, sorry to disrupt your class, but you may want to come get Jack. He’s not feeling well.”

“Oh no! Has he thrown?”

“No, but he says his stomach definitely hurts, and we took his temp. He has a little fever.”

“Alright, um…shit, I have two more classes today. Let me call my husband and see if he can grab him quick.”

“We’ll need him to take Jessica too, she could also easily be sick.”

“Okay.” You go back into the classroom and grab your phone. “Kids are sick, talk amongst yourselves for a moment.” You tell them and step back out to call Harry. “Hi.”

“What’s up?”

“Jack’s not feeling well, can you pick them up from daycare? I’d just take them home, but I have two more classes today.”

“Uhh…oi! Isaac!” You take the phone from your ear at how loud he yelled. “Yeah, I can step out for a bit to get them.”

“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver.” You hang up. “Harry will be there soon to grab them.”

“Awesome, thanks! Sorry again for disrupting.”

“No, I’m glad you came to tell me. Thank you.”

You go back into class and get on with your lecture.

Harry gets to the daycare. He frowns when he sees how pale Jack is. He scoops up Jessica and gets them both into his car.

“Don’t feel good, Daddy.”

“I know, buddy. We’re almost home.”

Luckily Jack didn’t puke in the car, but Harry was nervous he might so he sets him up on the couch with him so he could properly watch him. He puts Jessica in her bouncy. She didn’t have a fever, but he knew that could easily change. Harry gets his laptop once Jack is settled and comfortable, and answers some emails. He felt terrible for leaving, but it was nearly the end of the day anyways.

You get home around four, a little later than usual, but you had a ton of students come during your office hours. You run right upstairs to the living room. Harry was stretched out on the couch. Jack and Jessica both laying on his chest. Both curled up and comfortable on their Daddy.

“Hi.” You whisper.

“Hi.” He smiles. “He puked a couple of times. Think he has a little bug.”

“Oh no.” You frown and sit on the edge of the couch to stroke Jack’s back.

“Gave him some children’s Tylenol. She’s been fine, but she could easily get sick too.”

“I’m gonna go change his sheets. How’s Buster?”

“Been an angel f’me all afternoon. Love being able to just let him outside when I can’t really walk him.”

“Okay, let me take care of his bed and then I’ll get us all fed.” You kiss Harry’s forehead. You start to walk towards the stairs, and then you turn around and look at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You smile.

“I know that look, and you’re nuts if you think there’s gonna be any baby making tonight.”

“The thought never occurred to me.” You scoff. “You just look so cute with them.” You pout. “It’s hard not to want a dozen little babies.”

“Go change his fuckin’ sheets, will you?” He chuckles.

You get Jack’s bed settled, and come back down to feed Buster. You decide that vegetable soup would be a good idea, so you get to chopping and throw everything into a pot with some broth and let it cook. You come back over to Harry and smell Jessica’s bum.

“Oof, she stinks.” You laugh and take her from him.

“I was afraid of waking him up.” Harry sits up slightly and keeps Jack curled up in his arms. “Poor kid. Cried after he puked. I think it made his stomach feel worse.”

You take Jessica upstairs to change her and put her pj’s on, and then bring her back down to get her to walk a little. She balances on your forearms as she takes her little steps.

“She’ll be doing it on her own in no time.” Harry says.

“Eight months, she’s growing so fast.” You sigh. “I love the little curls that are coming in on her head. Gonna have another mop like with him.”

“Must have strong genes.” Harry chuckles. Jack groans, but Harry rubs his back to soothe him.

“I’ll be able to stay home with them tomorrow since I don’t teach. I can just work from home.”

“Are you sure? I could probably stay home.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll take care of them.”

“Mumma?” Jack adjusts in Harry’s arms and opens his eyes slowly.

“Hi, honey. Having a nice snuggle with Daddy?”

“Mhm. Don’t feel good.”

“I know.” You pick Jessica up and carry her to the highchair. Harry carries Jack into the kitchen. “Wanna try eating some soup?”

“No.” He pouts.

“How about some toast?”

“No.” Tears nearly form in his eyes.

“I think he’s afraid of spewing again.”

“He needs to eat something. You know what they say, starve a cold, feed a fever.”

“Toast is probably better, but I’ll have soup.” Harry says.

You nod and fill up two bowls. You give Jessica a bubby for dinner while Harry gets Jack to have some toast. After you clean up, you bring them both upstairs for bed. Buster snuggles up with Jack.

“Baby, we’re leaving this bucket here, if you don’t feel good you can just use that, okay?”

“Wanna sleep with you.” He whines.

“Daddy and I aren’t going to sleep yet. I put nice new sheets on your bed a little while ago, isn’t it cozy?”

“Got her down.” Harry says, coming in. “Buster will make you feel better, buddy. You like sleepin’ with him.”

“Wanna sleep with you.” He pouts.

“Jack, just try to sleep in here, and if you really can’t then you can come in with us, okay?” Harry says. You both kiss him goodnight and leave his room.

“I need a shower, gotta make sure we both don’t get sick too.”

“Oh, good idea. I’ll bring the baby monitor into the bathroom.” You say.

“You’re joining?”

“Why would we shower separately?” You scoff and go down the hall to your bedroom.

You hadn’t wanted Harry this much in a long time, or that’s at least how he felt. It sort of annoyed him that you had basically been fucking a lot just because you wanted a baby. He walks into the bedroom and starts taking his clothes off.

“Actually, I’d like to just have time to myself if that’s alright. They were on me all afternoon.”

“Oh…okay.”

He turns to go into the bathroom, only wearing his boxers. He sighs and turns around to look at you.

“Are we only fucking so much because you just want to get pregnant?”

“What?”

“It would just be nice to feel wanted because you want me, and not because you know I can give you another baby.”

“Oh my goodness, Harry.” You stand up and wrap your arms around him. “Have I been making you feel that way?”

“Yes.” He mumbles.

“I’m so sorry. I’m not sure what it’s been lately, I feel like my sex drive has just really come back in full swing. I mean, I want this baby, but I also just…want you. We’ve been getting interrupted less. I feel like we both have been able to figure out the good times of day to be intimate. I do just want you because I want you. I’m sorry if you’ve been feeling…used.”

“So…you really just wanted to take a shower with me?”

“I thought it would be some nice alone time, but if you want some time to yourself, that’s fine too.”

“No, let’s go in together. I want to now.” You smile and kiss each other before going into the bathroom.

You take your clothes off as Harry gets the water going. You both step in and sigh once the warm water hits your skin. You take turns washing each other, and then he pulls you close to him to kiss you. He backs you up to the wall and pushes you against it. His tongue felt so good against yours and you loved the way his hands were gripping your cheeks. He reaches between your legs to finger you.

“Jesus.” He groans. “So fucking we-“ He looks down as he pulls his fingers out. “Um…love?” He holds his fingers up and you frown when you see the all too familiar reddish color.

“Sorry.” You slip away from him to finish rinsing off.

“Babe, we can still…”

You turn to look at him with tears in your eyes. He pulls you in close and lets you cry into him. This was always the worst part of trying. He kisses your cheek and you look up at him.

“Sorry, um, I can just suck you off or-“

“If you’re not in the mood now, it’s okay.”

“No, we just talked about this not being about making a baby, so-“

“You’re getting upset. You got period, and that sucks, but maybe next month you won’t. We only just started trying again, Y/N. It’s gonna take some time.”

“Right.” You nod. “We should get out in case Jack needs something.”

Harry nods and turns the water off. You get yourself situated and dressed and crawl into bed with Harry. As if on cue, Jack comes walking in with his thumb in his mouth, and his blanky in his other arm. Buster follows as well and plops on the floor.

“C’mere, darling.” You say to Jack. He crawls up on the bed and gets between you and Harry. You put your arm around him and hold him close to you. “Poor thing, Mumma’s gonna stay home with you tomorrow and we can snuggle all day if you want.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, anything you want.” You kiss the top of his head as he closes his eyes. Harry was on his side looking up at you. “What?”

“I get it now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why you always get so…in the mood when you see me with them. You’re such a good mum, makes me wanna make more too.” He smiles.

“And you’re the best dad.” He leans up to kiss you goodnight, and then he turns the light off.

//

It took Jack a few days to feel better, but once he did he was back to his old self. Jessica caught a small fever herself, but she was fine. You were just happy that neither you nor Harry got sick. The second your period ended, it was on.

Jack and Jessica would be having a cousins sleepover at Erica’s after Thanksgiving dinner, and you may or may not have been excited to have the house all to yourselves for the night.

“Do you think Michael will have fun with so many little ones?” Harry asks on the drive home.

“Oh, sure. He likes being the big cousin. I still can’t believe Erica even offered it up.”

“Her and Mike can handle it. I think she was excited to snuggle up with Jessica.”

“I feel terrible she couldn’t have more…she always says I keep having them for her.” You laugh. “My Nannie used to say the same thing to my mom.”

“Speaking of Nannie…I was thinking for your spring break we could take a little family trip and go see her.”

“Are you serious?!”

“Yeah. She’s only seen Jessica once, it would be nice for her to spend some time with them. Plus, she always comes here. Florida’s beautiful in March.”

“You don’t need to convince me. We can start looking at flights soon. The kids are gonna be so well traveled when they get older. Once they get a lot older when we take them to the U.K. we could start taking them to some other countries.”

“That would be fun. It’s so easy to just take day trips and what not. They’ll be nice and well-rounded.”

“But I don’t want them to be spoiled. Gotta keep them humble.”

“Gem’ll keep them knocked down a peg, she’s really good at that.” He chuckles.

You both get into the house and kick your shoes off. Harry scoops you up and carries you up to the bedroom. Once he sets you down, you’re being pressed up against the wall harshly.

“You’re not too full or tired?” You ask between kisses.

“Nope, are you?”

“Nope.” You grin.

His lips find yours as you wrap your arms around his neck. You tug at the curls on the nape of his neck. This was very exciting. You could be as loud as you wanted, hell, you could leave the door open if you really felt like it. His hands were all over you, groping you wherever he felt like it. He fiddles with the zipper on the back of your dress, but finally gets it unzipped.

“Want you.” He mumbles into your neck as he sucks on your skin. You giggle on him.

“Really? I had no idea.”

“Don’t be cute.”

Your dress falls to the floor. You help him get his clothes off too. You’re just in your underwear as he hoists you up, bringing you over to the bed. He didn’t want his lips to leave you at all. He nipped where he felt like it, leaving behind little marks. He gets your bra and underwear off, and soon his fingers are rubbing around your folds.

“You obviously want me too.” He smirks, holding up his now slick and sticky fingers. He sucks them into his mouth before pressing them inside you.

You groan as you feel him curl them up. His thumb rubs circles into your clit as he pumps in and out of you. He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth but you tug his head up.

“I’m still making milk!”

“So?! S’not like I’m fucking sucking on it to grab a quick drink. You pumped before we left, you should be good.”

“It’s just weird…some could come out.”

“You really think I of all people give a fuck?” It was true, Harry didn’t care about anything of the things you thought would be gross for a guy, like hair and periods. 

“Fine, but if you taste anything you have to come off.”

“Deal.”

He goes back to sucking on you, more so just swirling his tongue around your pebbled nipple. He kneads the other one with his free hand has he continues to finger you. You tug at the blankets as your body begins to feel hot all over.

“Oh my god.” You moan. “Harry.”

“Gonna come?”

“Yes, fuck, oh shit!”

He works you through it until you can’t take it anymore. It felt so good to just let your little cry out instead of having to bite it back. He retracts his fingers and sucks on them again.

“Look at you.” He strokes your face. “So flushed.” He smiles. “Was that a good one?”

“Very good.” You giggle.

“So beautiful, my sweet angel.” He leans in to kiss you. “My amazing wife.” He kisses you again. “Love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

He adjusts himself so his tip his playing with your clit. You grit your teeth as he pushes inside you. Your nails scratch down his back, causing goosebumps to raise on his skin. He rocks in and out of you as his tongue finds yours. He just couldn’t get enough of your mouth tonight.

“Have you been, ngh, using a new lip balm or something?” He asks as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip. “So soft.” He leans in and bites down on your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before letting it go.

“I exfoliated them with, shit, this, ugh Harry, I’ll tell you later.”

He chuckles as his thrusts quicken. You wrap your legs around him to pull him closer. His hands find yours and he pins them to the sides of your head, fingers intertwined.

“You feel so fucking good, babe.” He grunts.

Your heart’s racing as his tip starts to brush against your g-spot. Your head rolls back into the pillows, and he kisses on the now exposed part of your neck.

“Harry.” You moan.

“Say it louder.” He says into your ear.

“Harry!”

“Again.”

“Harry! Oh fuck!”

You come undone just as he’s coming inside you. You felt like you were swimming. You raise your hips to meet his over and over to really ride it out. He pulls out of you slowly and rests beside you. He pulls you close and kisses your hairline. It was quick, but so good. You imagine it wouldn’t be the only time you’d be making love tonight, and you were right. He was inside you again before you knew it.

//

Jack was finally old enough to understand Hanukkah a little more, and it was the cutest thing in the world. You had a menorah on the kitchen table, and a very small tree in the living room. Your home was decorated with snow men, and other winter scene things.

“Look at this little kippah Nannie sent him. His name is on the inside, so cute.” You show Harry as you get some gifts together.

“He’ll love it.”

“He’ll probably ask why Daddy doesn’t wear one.” You giggle.

“I’ve worn one at more of the formal events.” He defends himself.

“Very true.”

“Mumma! Is it time to light the candles?!”

“Look outside and tell me if it’s sundown.” You chuckle and shake your head as he pouts at you. “Got about an hour, baby doll.”

“Will we get to do it at Grammy’s?”

“Of course we will.” Harry says as he picks his son up. “Grammy has lots of menorahs for us. Are you excited to go on the plane in a couple of days?”

“Yes.” He smiles. “I told Jessica it’s not scary.”

“Well, that was very nice of you.” You kiss Jack’s cheek as you go to pick your daughter up. She’d been crawling on the floor. “Come on, darling, you can stand up.”

“I wonder if she’ll babble a bunch on the plane. I always feel bad for the people around us.”

“Oh well.” You shrug. “Babies make noise.”

An hour or so later, everyone gathers around the menorah. Harry holds up Jack so he can watch you like the two candles and he mumbles along the prayer as you chant it. You were happy he thought it was so much fun.

“Can we have latkes?” He nearly whines.

“We’re going to make them at Grammy’s.” You tell him. “We can stink up her house.” You laugh.

//

You were incredibly nauseous on the plane. It was rare for you to not feel well with how often you travel this way. You tried to just keep your eyes closed, and focus on your music, but it was difficult with Jessica in your arms, and Jack complaining that he wanted to cuddle with you too.

“Let Mummy rest, Jack, you can sleep with me.” Harry says, lifting the armrest between them. “Come here.” He puts his arm around Jack and holds him close.

“Why does Jessica always get Mumma?” He pouts.

“She doesn’t, Mummy and I take turns with her just like we do with you. Mummy might have to feed her quick, so it’s easier for her to hold her right now. What’s wrong? Don’t wanna snuggle with Daddy?” Harry pouts at Jack and it makes him giggle.

“You’re silly, Daddy.”

“Course I am, Daddy’s are supposed to be silly.”

Harry catches you smiling with your eyes closed, and it makes him smile more. Jack settles into Harry, and then he slowly drifts off. You reach your free hand out for Harry’s, and you’re able to hold hands. Sometimes you missed when it was just the two of you so you could cuddle on these long flights, but you also loved what you had now.

Once you’ve landed, you had to rush to a bathroom. Harry was a bit frantic since Jessica would definitely need to be changed. He hated changing her in the men’s bathrooms because they often didn’t have changing tables. Normally you would take the kids in with you to get them in fresh clothes, but you were so nauseous. You get into a stall and throw up.

“Please, fuck, don’t tell me I have the flu.” You say to yourself as you wipe your mouth. You get up and go out to the sink to brush your teeth. You come back out and wait for Harry.

“Are you alright?” He asks as he hands Jessica over to you.

“Yeah, I just don’t feel one hundred percent.” You didn’t want to say you got sick so Jack wouldn’t be scared. “Jack, hold my hand, baby.”

Harry gets all the luggage, and you both make your way to your rental car, which was a minivan this time around. You get the car seats settled, and get the kids strapped in. Harry holds your hand as he drives to Anne’s.

“I’m sure mum has some pepto you can take. You were nauseous right?”

“Yeah, usually I’m fine, it’s so weird.” You shrug. “I can always go to the drug store if need be. I feel better now.”

Anne was delighted to see her grandbabies. Jack attacked her with hugs and kisses, and Jessica babbled on to her.

“She can sort of walk now, Mum, look.” Harry helps Jessica stand, and she toddles over to Anne’s legs.

“Oh my goodness, growing up so fast! Wait until Auntie Gem sees you! Come in, you must be tired.”

Anne had lunch ready to go for everyone like she usually did. You felt hungry now, but as soon as you sat down you felt nauseous again.  

“I’m so sorry, I think I need to lay down for a bit.”

Harry stands up but you put your hand on his shoulder.

“Stay here with everyone, I’m fine.” You smile and go upstairs. You lay down on the soft bed and fall asleep immediately. Why were you so tired? Later, you’re woken up to the sound of Gemma’s voice.

“Y/N?” She whispers.

“Hm?” You sit up. “Oh, hi Auntie.”

“Hi, Mummy.” She smiles and sits on the edge of the bed. “Harry said you weren’t feeling well.”

“I think I’m coming down with something.” You frown. “I spewed at the airport.”

“Interesting.” She smirks, and tosses you a pregnancy test. “Need to pee?”

“Did he tell you to get this?” You chuckle.

“No, but when he texted saying you didn’t feel great I figured…”

“I suppose it would make sense.” You think for a moment and look at the period tracker on your phone. “I haven’t gotten my December period yet.” You furrow your brows.

“When was the last time you two…”

“Um.” You blush. “Well…I mean…”

“Right, right.” She blushes as well. “Think you two are the only married couple with kids that actually make time for that.”

“I do need to pee…I feel bad, usually he wants to be in on it, but how cute would it be if I am, and then I give this to him on Christmas?”

“It would be very cute! Go on, take a wee.”

You go into the bathroom and take the test. The two of you sit in the bedroom until the three minutes is up. You gasp as tears form in your eyes.

“Congratulations.” She says, hugging you.

“Can you hide this in your room? I have a really fun idea for how to give it to him.”

“Of course!” She wipes some tears away. “This is amazing.”

Christmas was wonderful, and it wrapped up Hanukkah perfectly. Jack got to have his latkes. You couldn’t wait to give Harry his surprise. That evening as you were settling in for dessert and pj’s, you grab Jack before he sits with his new toys.

“Honey, I have one more gift for Daddy, could you give it to him for me please?”

“Yes, Mumma.” He beams, excited he’s been given a task. You hand him the small box Gemma had picked up for you, and watch as he goes over to Harry, who was sitting with a cup of tea on the couch while Gemma held Jessica. Anne was sitting on the floor setting up one of Jack’s toys. “Excuse me, Daddy.”

“My polite little boy.” Harry coos. “Yes?”

“This is from Mumma.” Jack hands Harry the small box. Harry looks over at you and you gesture to open it. “Hmm…” He shakes the box and hears some rattling. “What else could Mum have gotten me?” Harry genuinely had no idea what else you could have bought for him, but he was excited nonetheless. Gemma props her phone up to record his reaction. He opens the box and his mouth falls open. He looks at you immediately, who was biting back a smile and tears. “Are you serious?” His voice cracks as he smiles.

“Mhm.”

“Oh my goodness.” He chuckles and stands up to walk over to you. You wrap your arms around each other. “When did you find out?”

“Took it the other day. I have no idea how far along I am, could only be four weeks. I’ll go to the doctor when we get back later in January.”

He cups your cheeks and kisses you.

“Wait…” Anne snatches the box and sees the pregnancy test. “You’re?!”

“Yes.” You giggle. She stands up and gives you a hug.

“What’s going on?” Jack asks.

“Well.” You rub your lower tummy. “I got something growing in here.”

“Another baby?!”

“You bet.”

Jack rushes over to you and gives you a big hug.

“You’re excited?!”

“Yeah! Jessica needs someone to play with too. She’ll be a big sister, and I’ll be a big brother again.”

“He’s smart.” Harry laughs. “You’re the best brig brother there is.” He kisses you again. “Wow, a third baby.”

“And then you’re done, right?” Anne asks. “I love grandkids, but you two wanna be smart about this.”

“Once I know this one’s gonna stick, he’s getting snipped.” You say.

“Oi, I still haven’t agreed to that.”

“Harry.” His mother says. “You’ll do it, and not put up a fuss about it.”

Later that night, as the four of you settle into bed, yes the four of just slept in the same bed while at Anne’s, Harry was beaming at you. You had put Jack and Jessica on one side of the bed for a bit so you and Harry could cuddle.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You whisper.

“Can’t help it, you’re just so beautiful.” He puts his hand on your lower stomach. “Got another one in you, can’t believe it. Do you think it was Thanksgiving?”

“Could have been.” You giggle. “Does this mean you’ll go back to eating me out? Really been missing that.”

“Honey, I promise once Dr. Johnson really tells you you’re pregnant, I’ll go down on you for hours.”

“That sounds nice.”

He leans down to kiss you.

“I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

[arcticfox007]

Holding on to You

Day 2: Decorating

There is a follow up to this one on Day 3 of the DD2020C!

Part of the Destiel December 2020 Challenge created by @jellydeans and @galaxycastiel - this is so much fun, I really appreciate you guys coming up with this :) <3

This is a bit long for tumblr, so here’s the AO3 link!

***

           Please come when you can.

               Castiel looked at the text from Sam with some concern. If it had been urgent, he was sure Sam would’ve expressed it… but still, Lucifer’s trail had gone cold, and a break from Crowley’s need to always fill the silence with words would be welcome. Still looking at the text Castiel stood up from the barstool.

               “Where are you running off to Feathers? Running home to your boyfriend for the holidays?” Crowley winked suggestively at the angel.

               “If you must know, Sam has requested my assistance.” Castiel hadn’t actually paid much attention to the time of year, but now that he looked around, he did note that the bar had a plastic tree in the corner with lights.” Crowley noticed Castiel taking in the tree with a furrowed brow.

               “Oh dear, you didn’t forget? And with only ten shopping days left!” Crowley smiled mockingly. Cas just glared at Crowley and slammed money on the bar for the beer he hadn’t touched.

               “Just call me if you hear anything new about Lucifer.” Castiel continued to glower at the demon.

               “Ooo, I touched a nerve there. Go run back home to your boys, Feathers.” Crowley chuckled and turned back to his drink. Castiel walked out of the bar and got in his current vehicle. He was only a few hours from the bunker but as he started to drive, he found that he was actually bothered by what Crowley had said. He had observed that humans in this part of the world had specific cultural practices associated with Christmas that were very important to them. He had not known the Winchesters to pay much attention to the holiday, but should he do something for them? Sighing, Castiel decided he’d get to the bunker first and worry about human cultural practices later.

****

               Sam was worrying more and more about Dean. He knew his brother said he understood why Mom needed her space, but Dean was withdrawing more and more. When they weren’t on a hunt Dean found all sorts of projects around the bunker that required manual labor. The last few days his brother had only communicated with one-word responses and only when Sam asked him a direct question. Sam had been relieved when Cas texted him that he was on the way to them, Dean was always better with Cas around.

               “Dean?” Sam could hear some boxes being moved around in one of the rooms they’d been using for storage. He looked through the doorway to see his brother opening up an old box.

               “What?” Sam winced at the harsh tone.

               “Hey, I didn’t mean to bother you. I just wanted to tell you Cas texted to say he was on his way here. I thought you’d want to know.” Dean just nodded at the news. Sam looked around and noticed that Dean was going through some of the stuff prior occupants of the bunker had left behind. Sam waved his hand towards the boxes. “Anything interesting?” Dean sighed deeply.

               “No.” Sam peeked into the box Dean had just opened as it was pushed aside into what he imagined was Dean’s junk pile. It was full of smaller boxes. Sam pulled one out and laughed. They were tree ornaments, and really ugly ones at that. Dean just continued to pull more boxes out, but looking at the hideous ornaments Sam realized with a start that it was almost Christmas. Maybe Sam had more than one idea of how to cheer his brother up.

***

               “Sam.” Castiel wondered why Sam had called when he was going to be at the bunker in the next half an hour.

               “Hey Cas. I know you’re probably almost here, but I was wondering if I could ask you a favor?”

               “Of course, Sam. What can I do for you?”

               “Can you stop somewhere and pick up a few supplies? I’ll text you the address of the closest store. You still have the credit card we gave you right?” Castiel could here Sam’s smile through the phone.          

               “Yes, what supplies do you require?”

               “Okay, so this may sound strange, but I need you to pick up a tree. And a tree stand. And lights. Oh, and when you get here text me so I can help you sneak them in.” Sam had lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. Castiel was confused.

               “Is this for some ill-advised spell? These sound like odd ingredients.” Sam laughed.

               “No Cas! Dean found some old decorations in one of the storage boxes and it made me think that it might be nice to decorate a Christmas tree this year.”

               “Then why are we sneaking?”

               “Um, well, I asked you to come back because… because Mom left. Dean hasn’t been handling it well, and I thought you and I could maybe do something to remind him that he still had us.” Cas took a deep breath and didn’t speak for a moment. It was hard to think of Dean dealing with his mother’s absence again. “Cas?”

               “I’m here Sam. I’m happy to bring a tree to assist with your holiday rituals. Please send me the address.” Cas ended the call. He was absurdly happy at the idea of being included in decorating a tree with the Winchesters. He was worried about Dean of course, but he wasn’t surprised to hear that Mary left. She had expressed that she felt out of place. If Sam thought having a Christmas tree would help, then Cas would get a tree. He glanced at the address on his screen and drove to the store.

***

               Sam made sure that Dean was still occupied in the storage room when Cas arrived. He helped Cas carry in the tree and showed the angel how to hold it so Sam could secure it in the stand. He sent Cas to bring the lights inside while he filled the stand up with water. Cas had purchased multi-colored lights and also had a bag with tinsel which he said the sales clerk had recommended.

               “Okay Cas. Now I need you to go convince Dean to help decorate.” Cas looked at Sam suspiciously. “Please Cas? He’s more likely to listen to you. You can also get the old ornaments.” The angel rolled his eyes and went towards the storage area.

****

               “Hello Dean.” Castiel stood in the doorway and watched Dean pull a box out from a back shelf and drag it to the front of the room where there was more space. He didn’t look up.

               “Cas.” Castiel sighed. It was never easy with Dean. He walked up to the man he loved and placed a hand on his shoulder. Castiel expected Dean to shrug it off but Dean just stilled and stood up to look at the angel.

               “I am sorry that your mother left.” Dean took a deep breath and for a moment Castiel thought Dean was going to start shouting at him. Cas would let him shout if that’s what he needed. Before he could start though, Cas saw Dean look at his face and wince. Perhaps Dean could read Castiel’s compassion in his eyes. Holding Dean’s gaze Cas saw the deep pain that reverberated through Dean’s being. Cas didn’t even stop to think. He pulled Dean into his arms and hugged him fiercely. Dean’s mother left, so Cas would stay as long as Dean needed him. He tried to pour that reassurance into the embrace. Surprisingly Dean didn’t resist, he just melted into the hug.

               “Cas… she said she missed her kids. We were standing right there, but she doesn’t even recognize us. She could have stayed, gotten to know us. But she’d rather have a memory.” Dean whispered the words in a raw and halting voice. Castiel knew how hard it was for Dean to express these things and so he pulled his arms tighter around him, feeling the soft flannel of Dean’s shirt underneath his palms. Dean dropped his head into Cas’ neck as if he could hide there from the world.

               “I believe she just needs time Dean; she does love you and Sam.” Dean nodded miserably into Cas’ trench coat. Cas would hold him as long as Dean allowed it. He stood silently offering this beautiful man all the support he felt he was allowed to give. Eventually, Dean pulled back and rubbed his hands over his face. He looked hopelessly around the mess of open boxes surrounding them and then back at Cas.

               “Thanks.” Dean didn’t seem embarrassed or awkward for once, just grateful. Cas just nodded and briefly grasped Dean’s shoulder once more. The angel was happy to have offered Dean some small amount of solace. He always treasured the stolen moments where he could be there for Dean, when it felt like Dean when just letting Castiel love and adore him. Softly smiling, Cas also looked at the boxes for a moment. Softly smiling, Cas also looked at the boxes for a moment.

               “Did you have something in mind with these?”, Cas asked looking at the debris of the prior bunker residents.

               “Nah. I was trying to get rid of any junk lying around. It was just something to do since while we don't have a case.”

               “Sam asked me to get a box of ornaments?” Castiel looked at the piles not sure where to start. Dean looked questioningly at the angel and dug out one of the bottom boxes and passed it to Cas.

               “What does he want with these?” Castiel shrugged slightly. Being a very experienced tactician, he knew the best strategy for convincing Dean to help decorate. More than anything else Dean was motivated by helping others.

               “I would like to experience Christmas with people I care for. Sam is teaching me some of your local holiday customs. Will you come help?” Castiel may have resorted to the head tilt Dean always responded to. He was not above ‘fighting dirty’ when it came to Dean’s happiness. Dean gave Cas a genuine smile and pushed him towards the door.

               “Yeah! Sounds like a plan. Although those ornaments are really ugly.” Cas chuckled as they made their way out of the storage area.

[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicMas Day 8: Forgotten

Happy Day 8! I have been travelling all day, and plotting Forbidden Fics, so on with the show!

Today’s fic is an untitled riff on the concept of Alice being found in the woods of Forks not only having forgotten her entire life, but still human - her last solid memories are running from James. It was very much meant to be an exploration of Alice and Jasper relearning each other, and falling in love again - though it got quite dark and depressing at one point - and looking at how far Alice has come from her human years. She is absolutely unclear of the year she’s in, and whilst she has some memories of the asylum, she is also unaware of just how damaged she was before she was changed. I hope that all makes sense. 

Onwards!

--

What does she remember?

That is a loaded question. Matron asks her that every morning, as if she is a small child, whenever she can manage to talk. Her mind is gossamer thin, and tattered from shock therapy. She doesn’t remember much, but she does remember that her name is… her name is… Alice, yes.

The waking dreams she has are an illness, a terrible one, and she is mad.

Her dearest friend is Eli, the orderly. He was special, and a good man. He looks after her.

That’s what she remembers. The hunter. Eli taking her away from the asylum, wrapped in his itchy, old coat that smelt like smoke and grass. She was cold and tired and so frightened for Eli, because he is old and the hunt was strong… but he hid her away and went off to defeat the hunter.

//

This Alice is not their Alice, that is clear.

She is undeniably human, and so frail that Carlisle must resist the urge to check her immediately into the closest hospital. She speaks quietly, wringing her hands nervously. She doesn’t make eye-contact.

For Jasper, all he can think is that her eyes are blue. Blue-grey, really, a colour that nearly matches a scarf she bought back in the 50s. She has faint freckles over her nose.

//

The Cullens are very kind to me, whilst Eli has gone. Dr Cullen seems to think that Eli and I will be living with them for now on; that does make sense, I suppose, since Dr Cullen is a doctor, and I am still very ill. They had a very nice bedroom to give me, and clothing, so Eli must have written them. And Mrs Cullen was very nice when the dress she gave me was far too short and it upset me. The second one was much better, though it was black and I am sure made me look as pale as a ghost.

Mrs Cullen has cooked for me, as well – the smells are awful to a vampire, and the rest of them vanish whenever she disappears into the kitchen. She is always asking me what I like to eat, and she looked so sad when I told her I didn’t know, because the food at the asylum was so awful.

I keep away from the others, like Eli warned me. Though, Miss Rosalie was so lovely, I couldn’t believe she was real. I… I think I had a doll like her once. Her husband was a giant of a man who reminded me of the orderlies at the asylum, who seemed nice enough, but I wasn’t getting too close.

The redheaded boy seemed to like watching me a lot, but refrained from talking much. He seemed to have a lot of friends, though, as when he did speak, he was always talking about ‘Bella’ and ‘Jacob’ and ‘Seth’ and ‘Leah’.

The young blond man did not seem to be pleased I was in the house, leaving the room anytime I entered it, and when he was forced to be in my presence, he glowered at me, as if I were the most unwelcome creature in the universe.

Perhaps it should have upset me, but I am used to such glares.

Dr Cullen insisted that I spend a lot of time resting quietly in my room, though he allowed me to sit in the garden for a little while each day, and there was a never-ending supply of books, which was wonderful. I spend a lot of time attempting to pen letters to Eli, though my hands were still quite shaky, and my handwriting abysmal. My drawings moreso. I cried about it a little, when I was in my room, but I should be very grateful – my alternative to this lovely place was death.

//

My bedroom remained a mystery. Mrs Cullen assured me that it was mine, and I adored everything about it – the way the light filled the room every morning, to the dandelion lamp on the nightstand, to the bed with the silk headboard and piles of pillows. Mrs Cullen was always worried I was cold, bringing me as many pillows and blankets as I wished for.

But, I wondered if perhaps this room wasn’t intended for me. Mrs Cullen had filled the dresser with my clothing, and apologised, explaining the closet was used as storage, and I shouldn’t go through it until she had some time to clear it out. I had peeked, just once, and found it full of boxes and clothing. The clothing! I had never seen so many dresses! Most of them had been terribly short, but there had been every colour and fabric. I couldn’t imagine leaving behind so many beautiful things.

There were spaces in the bookcase as well, as if several editions had been pulled out in a hurry.

And I had found a necklace that had been left on the window sill, behind the curtain – a thin silver chain, with a glass teardrop on the end. It was lovely, and clearly beloved – the initials had been rubbed off the clasp, as had the engraving around the setting.

I had simply left it on the dresser and never asked, even when it vanished without mention.

It wasn’t the only mystery. I had noticed that I was kept out of many of the rooms of the house – my meals were served to me on trays or in the dining room. I was allowed in the garden or in my room.

But who am I to criticise their hospitality? Perhaps they keep things in this house that are not fit for human eyes.

//

Today, a man arrived. A policeman, though his uniform was quite odd. He looked quite stern, and when Mrs Cullen went to greet him, I disappeared back to the dining room to finish my breakfast.

Mrs Cullen is determined to discover my ‘favourite’ foods at every meal; I don’t have the heart to tell her after the ‘soups’ and ‘porridges’ of the hospital, every food is my favourite. Today, it is eggs that are like little yellow clouds.

“Alice!” the policeman sees me there and he smiles, but looks confused for a moment.

My glass of orange juice slips from my fingers and all I can think is that he is looking for me, the hospital has searched for me and they will drag me back to that dark, dim little cell, and I’ll be without Eli this time.

I know I am crying and screaming, though it sounds quite feeble to my own ears, and Mrs Cullen is trying to calm me, and the policeman looks bewildered, and the redheaded boy – Edward – is there and trying to fix everything.

“She thinks Charlie is going to take her back,” he keeps saying. “Get Jasper down here to calm her down.”

I must look a fright, my hair has fallen around my face, and there is orange juice spilt all over my dress and Mrs Cullen’s floor and there is glass everywhere.

“Carlisle left some sedatives,” Miss Rosalie says finally, looking rather stunned. Everyone looks rather pained but finally Edward nods.

And then I am calm.

I slump to the floor, my arms wrapped around myself. I am still frightened, my heart pounding, but I am calm.

“Charlie is a friend,” Mrs Cullen is telling me soothingly, smoothing my hair from my face. “No one is going to take you anywhere you don’t want to go, we promise.”

The calm fades into grief, and I fling my arms around her neck and sob like a child and beg for someone to fetch Eli for me.

//

They sit me down in the lounge room, all of them watching me. Esme has an album in her lap, and looks so kind and worried. I keep checking my hair, to make sure it hasn’t come loose. It’s not really long enough to pin up well, and Miss Rosalie never pins hers up, but it feels right.

And then Dr Cullen speaks. His voice is gentle and sad and it takes a while for me to understand the words he is saying.

Eli is, most certainly, dead.

But so is the hunter, and his vile companions.

I don’t make a sound, but suddenly my cheeks are wet, and I am crying. Esme pulls me into her arms and rocks me.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m sure he was a good man,” she murmurs against my head, and ice and fire rip through my veins and Edward hisses at Esme and I pull away, my heart pounding.

I’m sure he was a good man.

“What did he look like?” I demand from Dr Cullen, my voice hard but still shaking. “What did Eli look like?”

Dr Cullen looks startled and Esme is realising her mistake and I am realising that no one here has ever met Eli before. That I was never entrusted to these vampires by him.

Edward is just shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, Alice, but I never met Eli in person,” Dr Cullen says.

I let out a little moan, and wonder what comes next. A runaway girl in a borrowed dress.

Truly, how many times in my life shall I be left with nothing?

Perhaps I should have left the hunter to his meal and his pleasure. If I had known then what I do now, I would have.

My face is wet, and the collar of my sweater is sodden when I look up and spy a pair of shoes under the little console table in the entrance. They are small, small enough for me, and black, with a shiny gold toe. Worn, too, and I wonder whose they are. I wonder if that is why they took me in, to replace the ghost girl who left behind my bedroom and a closet full of clothing.

The family clearly doesn’t realise what I’m doing as I move towards the shoes. I am wearing good quality clothing – thick stockings and a grey dress with a black sweater – and now I have shoes. They cannot stop me leaving.

Well, they can. But I will fight until I am dead. I am tired of being a pawn.

Edward groans as I step into the shoes – a perfect fit, as if they were mine all along – and there is the fuzzy muttering I can never understand, and I wish they hung their coats by the door, but there is nothing for it.

Before I can open the front door, there is an iron-bar of an arm around my middle, and I look down and then up in shock, as Jasper bodily drags me away from my freedom.

“Let me go!” I squeal, trying to wriggle free. I am small enough that I could usually get out of Eli’s grasp; he would laugh and tell me I was like a cat, or a goldfish, too hard to catch. But this man, who has treated me with nothing but disdain, has compensated for my size, and I am trapped in his grasp.

“Stop it!” I shriek, and I try kicking and hitting, but it does nothing except bruise my poor limbs. Miss Rosalie’s husband is truly laughing at me, and I’m sure I look quite a sight, my eyes and face all red and wet, fighting against this ridiculous behemoth of a man. Eli was not so tall as the Cullen men, and it is most unhelpful.

“Please, let me go!” I beg, but my voice is cracking, slightly hysterical, as they discuss me. As if I am a naughty child instead of the girl they have lied to.

“You’re hurting me,” I finally offer, rather pitifully. That one always worked with Eli, and it works quite well now. The man nearly drops me, and stares at me in horror – a look that makes me feel terribly guilty, though my back does ache from being held in such a way.

“Jasper,” Edward is looking at him; he has the saddest, most heartbroken look on his face I have ever seen, and I feel awful. “It’s okay, she’s fine.”

Jasper shakes his head and turns; a second later, the door slams.

“He gets to leave,” I say grumpily, and Dr Cullen and Mrs Cullen just look stunned at what has transpired.

Within seconds, a plan is formed. Dr Cullen, Edward and Miss Rosalie’s husband go after Jasper, whom I have caused great distress to, apparently. Miss Rosalie and Mrs Cullen whisk me back upstairs, where I am brought a cup of tea, and ignore my questions about Eli, a sinking feeling in my stomach until my vision swims and I realise they have played the same terrible trick my mother used on me when the orderlies came to take me away. I tip sideways on the window seat and Mrs Cullen carries me easily to bed, and oh, I hate them all. I cannot cry or co-ordinate my arms to move or speak.

But I have learned a valuable lesson. They will be kind and take care of me, but I have no power nor choice. And if I strike out at them, I will be punished. A tiny, hysterical part of my brain is amused that their weapon of choice is pills crushed in tea when they could break me into tiny pieces, but I will be quite carefully about accepting food and drink now on.

The Cullens are not to be trusted.

//

The tea was brewed strong, because I sleep through the afternoon and night. When I wake, there is light slipping through the windows. Normally, I would attempt to wash and clothe myself before Mrs Cullen comes in, but today, I do not. I attend to my needs in the bathroom, and drink water in my cupped hands rather than risk whatever is mixed in with the glass on my nightstand.

And then I return to bed. It seems that is where they prefer me to be, so that is where I shall stay.

It is quite late, mid-morning, when Mrs Cullen ventures in with a tentative smile and a tray, and then a concerned look when I do no sit up nor greet her, still clad in yesterday’s dress. I do not respond to her greetings, and I feel like a dying animal when she finally leaves to fetch Dr Cullen.

Having the doctor in my bedroom makes me feel quite unclean, brings shadowy horrors from the asylum to the front of my mind that I try to push away as he checks my temperature and talks to me.

“Grief, especially for a beloved friend, can be overwhelming,” he says finally, smoothing my hair in a way that makes me shudder and pull away from him. “You should eat, to keep up your strength, Alice. But rest is a great healer.”

He and Mrs Cullen leave, though a plate of toast and a glass of juice is left on my nightstand, and I wonder how many pills they have crushed into the mix. I wait forty minutes before I deposit the toast and juice down the toilet – they shall never guess that I didn’t consume it myself.

I am right, of course. Mrs Cullen’s smile brightens when she sees the empty dishes. I have been good and obedient and all is well, in the Cullens’ eyes.

They might think that they can control me and win whatever terrible game this is, but I grew up in a hellish place, learnt cruelty and sneakiness from the very best at it. No matter what they think they can do to me, I’ve survived worse. And I will survive them, too.

//

It has been almost a week since the terrible altercation, and they all suspect me. I refuse to leave my room, content to take my meals up there and read. The food is discarded via the bathroom, and I drink only from the tap. My bones are returning to the surface. Hunger is an old bedmate, one I’ve known since I was a girl, and I barely notice it anymore.

//

The brunette girl looks quite rough, in her trousers and shapeless sweater. She looked quite sour, too, as we sat in the dining room.

There is little chatter as she presents the food she brought with her. Apparently, the popular opinion is that I am so grief-stricken that Mrs Cullen’s food no longer tempts me, and that this strange girl can provide something that I will eat.

The sandwich is wrapped up in paper, with stickers to keep it sealed – it gives me slightly more confidence that the food has not been tampered with, though my body is well trained in going without food, and I am full after only picking at it for a little while.

The girl – Isabella, daughter of the Policeman Charlie – doesn’t talk much, and when she does, every second word is Edward’s name. It’s strange; I’m faintly reminded of my cousins fretting over boys, a hazy memory of a conversation I had no interest in, and wondered if they ever read a book.

Since I ate, the meal is declared a success, and Isabella is encouraged to return any time - with more food, and I wonder how many conversations about Edward I shall have to sit through.

//

I rather shocked the family, today. Dr Cullen weighed me in my nightdress, and found out that I had lost another two pounds. All that good work, undone. Mrs Cullen had looked terribly sad, and Miss Rosalie had scowled.

“If you don’t start eating, we’ll take you to the hospital and they’ll force you to eat,” she practically growls at me, and I wish I could laugh in her face.

“They attach a feeding tube to your mouth, and they will tie you down,” Miss Rosalie keeps speaking. I tilt my head to the side and think of the asylum, of everything I have lived through in eight years. Nothing Miss Rosalie can tell me will scare me.

“Please, Alice, is there anything you would like to eat?” Mrs Cullen is nearly begging me. I shake my head.

“Perhaps it is time to involve professionals,” Dr Cullen says in a sad voice, and there is a loud bang from upstairs that makes me jump.

“That would be a no,” Miss Rosalie’s  husband says wryly.

//

I don’t know why, but I walk into the kitchen the next morning, and when Mrs Cullen offers to make me breakfast, I agree.

I agree to eat at least half and then sit in the garden with her.

I even agree to a cup of tea, though my hands shake something terribly when I drink it – why am I drinking it? – and I nearly drop the cup.

Mrs Cullen watches me with a tired look on her face, and smoothes my hair from my face as she takes the empty tea cup. I sit in the garden and wonder if I could vomit it all up - it sits uneasily in my stomach, as if it knew how unwilling I was to consume it. I wait for the effect, to feel sleepy or twitchy or dizzy or something.

Jasper is watching me from the doorway, with a flat look on his face. I haven’t seen him since the argument, and he doesn’t look particularly pleased to lay eyes on me, but when he sees me watching him, he moves towards Mrs Cullen’s empty seat and folds himself into it.

“I,” he begins, looking down, “I understand you’ve suffered a great loss and feel like we’ve betrayed you. And I never, ever would have allowed them to lace your tea with sedatives, had I been in the house. I’m sorry I left. But you are safe here. We want to protect you and help you. And I will explain more when you’re well again, I promise. But you must stop trying to harm yourself, Alice. You must eat. I can only stop them from sending you to hospital for so long, and I…”

I blinked at him curiously. He had stopped them? More than once? He had some sort of authority over them - over me?

“I don’t understand,” I manage.

“I know, and we’ll start explaining things soon, but for now, I need you to trust us. Eat, drink, speak with us. I will watch over all the food that is prepared, if that makes you feel better. But I cannot watch you hurt yourself like this, and I cannot leave you. I just…” He looked so sad as his gaze met mine. And something about that gaze, something about the softness of his words made me trust him. He wouldn’t have drugged the tea, wouldn’t have allowed Mrs Cullen or Miss Rosalie to do so either. He never would have hurt me or lied to me. Whomever Jasper was in this family, and to me, he was neither unkind nor cruel. 

“Okay, I’ll try,” I said in a soft voice. “As long as you tell me the truth.”

//

[needtherapy]

open always petal by petal (ch 1)

Song Lan knows his only passenger, Cao Huan, is more secrets than truths, but he's still the best passenger Song Lan has ever had: paid up front, self-sufficient, and silent.

It shouldn't matter that Cao Huan plays the guqin like his heart is broken.

It shouldn't matter that his smiles light up the darkest corners of Fuxue's passageways.

It shouldn't matter that he makes Song Lan curious, curious in a way he hasn't felt in years.

It's just an ordinary transport, a regular fare, a mostly-honest way to make a living. All they have to do is get from Sichuan Station to Caiyi Port. The galaxy may be a dangerous place, but Song Lan is very good at his job, and this should be an easy two-week trip.

The rest doesn't matter. It doesn't.

READ ON AO3

Notes: Rated E for Explicit. Title from e.e. cummings' poem "somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond". Thanks to @cirilien​, @coslyons​, @treemaidengeek​ and tucuxi (AO3) for the beta reads!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

⋆ Day 0 ⋆

The papers are fakes, Song Lan thinks, but damn good ones. It’s really only the feel of the paper—a bit too clean, a bit too smooth—that tips him off. The ID badge is probably fake too.

He examines the man standing in front of him. He’s handsome in a patrician sort of way, if a bit too thin, and nearly as tall as Song Lan himself, dressed in graceful Eastern Sector robes that rustle the way only real silk does. They’re a far cry from Song Lan’s utilitarian jacket and comfortable shirts and pants in shades of constant black, only a small step up from the uniform he used to wear.

Song Lan wonders why this obviously wealthy man would need forged travel docs. He doesn’t really care, of course. Everyone has their secrets. But he doesn’t need trouble with the Goldlighters. It’s already tricky enough to be unaffiliated without drawing the attention of the galaxy’s most powerful economic cultivation guild.

With a sigh, Song Lan fishes the comm out of a pocket and holds it to the tiny neural node on the side of his head.

[Why the fake name?] the comm speaker asks in a cheerful, melodic voice that still twinges painfully in his chest. It’s been five years. He should really get the damn thing re-coded.

Instead of being offended, the man—supposedly named Cao Huan—tilts a wry, weary smile at him.

“I had hoped to be anonymous a little longer,” he says, his elegant accent denoting excessive amounts of privilege and education. “If you require my real credentials, I can produce them.”

Song Lan shrugs and shakes his head. As long as the man is legit, he can call himself whatever he wants, but now Song Lan has another question. Frowning, he lifts the comm again.

[Why not just travel on a Goldlighter transport? You’re headed for Caiyi. It’s a major port. You know it’ll take two weeks to travel through all four sectors in my ship? The trip might be more dangerous than on a sanctioned vessel,] Xingchen’s voice asks.

Song Lan is under no illusions about his typical fares. There’s usually a good reason they want to travel without questions, and usually a good reason they choose Fuxue. He might be unaffiliated, but he’s not cheap. The galaxy is a dangerous place, and he’s very good at his job. In ten years, he’s only lost one person. It was, however, the only one who mattered.

“I am returning to my family after...some time away. I am in no hurry,” Cao Huan answers, with an edge that Song Lan takes to mean the topic is closed.

Well, he’s happy to take the man’s money; he paid extra to be the only passenger. Song Lan shrugs again and motions for Cao Huan to follow him on a very short tour: kitchen, guest bedrooms, sonic lavs, the foolishly indulgent bath, infirmary, bridge, engineering, cargo bay, plus half a dozen corridors that serve as storage, computer terminals, short-term passenger seating, and whatever else Song Lan needs them to be. He’s even strung up hammocks in emergencies.

[Make yourself at home,] he says with a nod and quick, slanted smile.

“Thank you Captain Song,” the man says with a wide, genuine smile that starts in the corner of his mouth and spreads, opening like a flower across his face. It surprises Song Lan in a way he can’t quite articulate, as though neither of them expected today to hold any need for smiles. “I have been told you are the best pilot, and I look forward to the journey.”

Song Lan finishes prepping Fuxue with supplies for the two-week flight, plus extras, because it’s always better to plan for the worst. He checks to make sure his one luxury—six skeins of outrageously expensive qiviut yarn—is carefully stowed in waterproof cases. Having warm socks and something to do with his hands in the long dark expanse of space is worth any price. Cao Huan busies himself with loading his own gear, waving Song Lan away when he offers to help.

“Commander Song! Commander Song Lan!”

Song Lan turns at the familiar voice calling a half-forgotten title, but it takes him a minute to recall the person: Ouyang Ju. They had served together some ten years ago in the war that brought down the Wen High Chancellor. Fat lot of good that had done.

“Man, it is you! Haven’t seen you in ages,” Ouyang grins, slapping Song Lan on the back. “How’s it going?”

Song Lan tries not to flinch. He has never understood the need people have to touch each other when they’re talking. It’s annoying. He smiles and tips his head, the universal motion for a polite and disengaged fine, and hopes he won’t have to elaborate. It’s not that he doesn’t like using the comm. He would just rather not use it.

Alright, maybe it’s that he doesn’t like using it.

The man’s face twists with sudden, embarrassed recollection, and Song Lan knows what’s coming next.

“Sorry to hear about your partner and...everything,” the older man says with an apologetic grimace. “He was a great guy.”

[He was,] Song Lan acknowledges, giving in to the blasted voice box. [Thanks.]

“Hey, I’m XO on the Goldlight Ren,” Ouyang nods at the huge transport vessel resting in the nearby docking bay, just visible through wide banks of windows designed, Song Lan assumes, to show off the might and power of the ships that travel here. Nothing like Fuxue, who might be ninety meters if he squints just right, can be flown by a single person, and only requires a landing pad.

“Anything you ever need, you tell me, okay? I owe you.” Without waiting for a response, Ouyang strides away, whistling a fairly dirty bar song.

Song Lan watches him go, wishing it was that easy, wishing he could reduce the war to favors performed, a series of tit-for-tat exchanges that balance to zero instead of a perpetually-red loss column.

Wishes are pointless. Only the road ahead matters.

Song Lan sees his new passenger idly poking through a bag, head dipped away, back turned, and something about his posture rings a distant alarm bell in Song Lan’s mind. He has flown the route from Sichuan Base to Caiyi Port hundreds of times in his life. It should feel exactly the same as every other trip. And yet this time, he senses trouble brewing, and he does not like it.

⋆ Day 3 ⋆

Other than the unexpected music, it’s almost like flying alone. Cao Huan seems to have a sixth sense for knowing where Song Lan will be and avoiding him. He only occasionally catches glimpses of the tall man, white robes swirling behind him as he disappears through doorways or around corners.

It suits Song Lan just fine, and he laughs to himself about his initial concern. Cao Huan is the best passenger Song Lan has ever had: paid up front, self-sufficient, and silent. Song Lan finishes his first sock less than two days out of port, a record.

The only place he consistently runs into his passenger is in the kitchen. After the third day, it occurs to Song Lan that, as strange as it seems, it must be on purpose. Song Lan gets the definite impression that Cao Huan waits for him to arrive before he eats, as though it’s some ceremony he wishes to observe.

There’s no good reason for it, but Song Lan starts to eat his meals at the narrow kitchen table too. After all, there’s no reason not to, either. He just doesn’t usually eat in the kitchen. He’s grateful to discover that conversation is not the reason Cao Huan prefers company; meals continue to be quiet, peaceful affairs.

“Captain Song?”

Cao Huan’s voice startles Song Lan into dropping the knife he’s using to stir his...whatever this goop is.

“My apologies, but...will you join me for tea tomorrow morning? It is not as enjoyable to drink tea by myself.”

Without meaning to, Song Lan looks at the cabinet that contains the “tea” and “coffee,” thinking, it’s never enjoyable to drink that swill, and Cao Huan laughs.

It’s only a laugh on the barest technicality, a soft huff of air, but it changes things so profoundly, Song Lan has trouble staying on his feet. Suddenly, Cao Huan is a person, not a passenger, not a potential problem. The word no forms in his head even as he feels himself nodding.

Cao Huan smiles and inclines his chin, pleased, and Song Lan finds himself smiling back. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. He’s not usually so soft-hearted. Xingchen was the nice one, he reminds himself, and look how that turned out. The cruelty is the only way he can snap himself out of the whispering camaraderie, a pointless train of thought, and back into his role as captain of a ship, nothing more.

[Captain, your attention is required.]

As if to punctuate the computer’s notification, an alarm sounds—unexpected, as this part of space should be smooth and easy sailing. Song Lan grimaces, shrugging apologetically.

“I’m coming,” he signs to the computer’s security camera, before running back to the bridge.

It turns out to be nothing major, only a debris field. Either a small ship had a catastrophe here or a large ship dumped trash. Neither option is particularly heartening. Bad enough if ships are carelessly leaving obstructions on a primary transit route, worse if a ship has been attacked and destroyed here where it should be safe. He knows the Joint Senate is doing its best, and Hanguang-jun, the new chairman, is by far the best leader the four sectors have had in decades, but it’s hard to protect everyone.

There’s no signs of life anywhere after three scans, and Song Lan steers them out of the mess before he resumes course and autopilot.

He doesn’t go back to the kitchen, though.

It isn’t wise, he tells himself, to think of passengers as anything but temporary. Even if they seem nice, even if they’re friendly, they always reach their destination and move on. That’s what he likes about flying transport.

Like clockwork, at 8 pm the music starts. The first night on the ship, Song Lan had thought he was going crazy, hearing the eerie twang of an instrument he didn’t think still existed outside of private art collections.

But no, his passenger had been seated in the mostly-empty cargo bay, eyes closed, playing the guqin. An actual wooden guqin. The music had echoed through the hold, wrapping its notes around Song Lan and reverberating in his chest. He had listened with a mix of disbelief and reverence to the beautiful melody flowing from the fingers of the obviously skilled musician. He listened, in fact, until Cao Huan lifted his hands off the strings and sighed, a long, plaintive sound of grief that piqued Song Lan’s curiosity more than was healthy, and he’d hurried away before Cao Huan noticed him.

The next night had been the same, the music winding into access shafts, around the bridge, even through engineering.

Which Song Lan knows, because he tried all of those places to escape it.

Tonight, though, he gives up. If he is going to be treated to an impromptu concert by a master musician every night, he may as well enjoy it. He knits on the catwalk over the cargo hold and listens, wondering if the song has words, wondering what it means to Cao Huan, wondering how long you had to practice to make the guqin sound like an ocean of sorrow.

⋆ Day 4 ⋆

Evidently, Cao Huan had not been referring to Fuxue’s stores of tea.

He had his own.

Song Lan tells himself to stop being surprised that a man who carries a guqin and can afford a private transport would have a jar of aged white tea that smells like honey and the summer sun. He sits at the table across from Cao Huan and watches him gracefully pour tea, holding back his draping sleeve with one hand.

Cao Huan notices Song Lan’s raised eyebrows.

“You must think me overly indulgent,” he says, pouring his own cup. “I am not particular about many things, but I do enjoy good tea. I am fortunate that it is something my...my family can provide.”

Oh, Song Lan thinks, his family must be tea merchants, which does explain quite a bit, and he feels a little guilty for judging the man on appearances. He wonders if it’s flash-cloned or actually soil-grown, and he peers into the cup, considering the color and shape of the leaves he can see, as though they will give him an answer.

“It is soil-grown,” Cao Huan answers Song Lan’s curious thought, and smiles when Song Lan looks startled. “It is the obvious question. Unless you were seeking your fate in the leaves?”

Song Lan snorts, and Cao Huan laughs again, again that soft exhale that feels more intimate than raucous laughter. It highlights faint lines around his eyes and softens his usually-tranquil angular features with a hint of playful teasing.

“Perhaps you do not believe in fate? Or perhaps you do not believe tea can tell the future. It is considered a noble art, Captain Song. Could so many fortune-telling market grannies be wrong?”

Song Lan laughs, a sadly rusty sound, he thinks with an internal wince, and shakes his head. The man looks pleased.

“Captain Song, may I ask a nosy question?”

Sometimes when people say things like that, they mean I am going to ask a nosy question whether you like it or not, but Cao Huan sounds sincere. Song Lan considers. With a sigh, he finds the comm.

[You may ask. I can’t guarantee that I can answer.]

The man’s mouth twitches in an almost smile. “That is fair. It is only...I noticed you signed to the camera yesterday. Do you…” he pauses, seeming to reevaluate his question, which is good, because Song Lan has frozen.

He forces himself to relax. Hand sign languages are no longer illegal, but he still can’t stop the fluttering fear from pooling in his gut.

“Does the computer understand your hand signs?” Cao Huan finishes, and Song Lan practices breathing normally.

[Yes. It’s easier to sign than find the comm sometimes, especially if I’m in a hurry,] he says through the little speaker, only a little defiantly. He won’t let this man shame him.

“Would you prefer to speak this way?” Cao Huan asks, lifting his hands and signing as he speaks.

Song Lan just stares at him.

And stares.

And stares until Cao Huan’s eyebrows raise. “If you would rather not…”

“No, I do prefer it,” Song Lan signs hurriedly, not wanting him to withdraw the offer. “It’s just...unusual to find someone who knows hand signs these days.”

The High Chancellor had been a paranoid and suspicious man, and he had outlawed the use of hand signs decades ago, fearing them to be the language of bandits and assassins. He wasn’t entirely wrong; hunters and thieves did use the signs, but so did countless others. His replacement, who preferred to be called Xiandu, wasn’t much better. All in all, almost thirty years passed before the current Joint Senate legalized them again after Xiandu’s death three years ago. In so many places around the four sectors, the sign languages that correlated to the spoken languages have been lost entirely.

Song Lan had learned the sign language after Xingchen died five years ago, after he was left for dead, after he decided he was done with the future. His teacher was a wizened old woman on an unaffiliated space station, Rogue Sky, and she was most likely one of the High Chancellor’s feared bandits. Song Lan hadn’t cared then and he didn’t care now. All he knew was that she’d refused to let him wallow in misery, no matter how much he felt he’d earned it.

Song Lan still takes her snowflake cakes whenever he’s near Qinghe space. It’s the least he can do.

Cao Huan nods in acknowledgement, still signing as he talks. Even though it’s unnecessary, Song Lan finds he likes watching, the words and motions blending together to make something wholly different.

“I have always loved languages. This one is particularly beautiful and unique.” He grins suddenly, eyes twinkling with mischief, and the expression turns his face brilliantly luminous. “Plus, it was an appealing novelty to learn something forbidden.”

Song Lan’s first reaction to the man’s captivating smile is an unwelcome surprise. Instinctively, he covers his embarrassment—which he hopes has gone unnoticed—with something he’s more familiar with.

“I did not have the luxury of enjoying the novelty,” his fingers cut angrily through the air. “I was taught illegally on an unaffiliated station by a former bandit, but it was better than never speaking again.”

Swiftly he stands and goes back to his room to berate himself. He isn’t sure which is worse, yelling at his passenger or feeling a knee-buckling surge of desire for him. He has no business doing either.

Song Lan flops on his bed and stares at the ceiling, at the sword that hangs above his head. Shuanghua, Xingchen’s pride and joy, the sword he brought with him when he joined Song Lan’s crew, the sword that couldn’t save him in the end. Couldn’t save either of them. The guilt throbs in his gut, as familiar as the vibrations of Fuxue’s heart, and he sinks into it. This is an emotion he understands.

[Captain, do you need assistance?] his computer asks, and Song Lan wants to laugh. It seems that even Fuxue thinks he’s being a moody child.

He shakes his head and signs to the camera. “What would you do if I did? I’m the captain and the crew.”

The computer is silent, the question apparently having stumped the AI.

[Zichen, do you want to talk about it?]

“No,” his hands say emphatically. He’s not an expert, but he’s pretty sure it’s not going to help to get a psych eval from a computer that’s using his dead partner’s voice.

“Captain Song?”

And now Cao Huan is on the other side of the door. Why can’t everyone just let him sulk in peace?

“Captain Song, I profoundly apologize. It was a terrible, insensitive thing I said, and I am so sorry. It is not an excuse but...I have not been around...people much lately. Evidently I am still quite bad at it. I will not disturb you…”

Song Lan yanks open the door.

“It’s nothing,” he signs slowly, calmly. “I overreacted.” Song Lan smiles ruefully. “I’m not around people much either. Thank you for the tea.”

Cao Huan blinks in surprise, and his face shifts through a series of expressions Song Lan doesn’t recognize before landing on careful neutrality.

“You’re welcome. I...I would be happy to share tea with you every day. If you wish.”

He looks like he’s considering saying something else, but he doesn’t, just nods his head once and goes. Song Lan doesn’t exactly watch him walk down the passageway, one fist resting on the small of his back, but he doesn’t not watch him either.

⋆ Day 5 ⋆

Song Lan is amused to discover that Cao Huan is insatiably curious about everything on Fuxue. It’s not hard to believe he’s been isolated for a while. He is unfailingly polite, and still mostly avoids Song Lan, but occasionally, Song Lan finds him in the oddest places: staring at the engines, examining at the computer core, meditating on the catwalk, sorting through supplies in the infirmary. Song Lan wonders if he’s bored.

He finds Cao Huan on the bridge one day, running his lithe musician’s fingers over the flight panel, murmuring something to himself. Song Lan knows as soon as Cao Huan is aware of his presence. He doesn’t startle, exactly, but he stiffens and steps back slightly. His face, when he turns to Song Lan, though, is tranquil and uncomplicated.

“My pardon, Captain,” he nods, and steps to the side as though he intends to move past Song Lan, but for once, Song Lan is curious.

“Were you talking to Fuxue?” he asks before Cao Huan looks away.

Cao Huan’s neck flushes, and he shrugs. “I have heard these Jian-class AIs have distinctive personalities, as it were. I prefer to err on the side of caution.”

Song Lan doesn’t understand what he means, but Cao Huan is still blushing, the tips of his ears turning a distracting shade of pink, and it makes him want to know.

“I don’t understand,” he says, and Cao Huan sighs.

“I was introducing myself,” he explains. “It seemed courteous.”

Song Lan can’t help his smile. He wonders if Cao Huan introduced himself to Fuxue with his real name.

“Yes, Fuxue is somewhat unique,” he agrees. “My...my partner was a gifted tech, and he gave her more autonomy than is customary since we flew alone so often.”

Cao Huan nods. “So I gathered. She tells me about him sometimes. Is her voice…” he pauses, noticing the look of surprise on Song Lan’s face. “Is that strange?”

Fuxue talks to Song Lan, and of course, she used to talk to Xingchen—one of the reasons, Song Lan suspects, that his ship is so unusual. Talking to Xingchen for extended periods of time would make anyone a bit odd. But as far as he knows, the ship has never spoken to any other passenger, much less talked to them about Xingchen. He can’t decide why Fuxue would start now, whether it’s a bug in the programming or something about Cao Huan specifically.

“Yes,” Song Lan acknowledges. “She still manages to surprise me sometimes.” He smiles up at the camera in the corner of the room and adds, “Don’t make trouble, my love.”

“I believe she likes the music,” Cao Huan says, stepping around Song Lan and moving into the passageway. “I apologize again for intruding on your bridge.” He smiles, a minute flicker, and Song Lan catches his sleeve impulsively, probably foolishly.

“You are welcome on the bridge any time,” he signs swiftly, before Cao Huan can leave. “Whether I am here or not.”

Cao Huan considers for a moment and nods, his smile a little wider, a little more genuine, and Song Lan doesn’t regret his words at all.

⋆ Day 7 ⋆

“How did you learn this?” Cao Huan asks one day, touching the toe of the sock Song Lan is knitting.

They are sitting in the two bridge seats, and Song Lan is working through a heel turn, shaping the rows to reinforce the curve. He finishes the section before he sets down the sock to answer.

“I learned when I was a boy. I grew up with scrappers, and there was a lot of downtime.”

Cao Huan is silent, rubbing the soft wool between his fingers, and Song Lan wonders why he bothered to ask.

“Would you like to learn?” Song Lan asks, and Cao Huan shakes his head slowly.

“Yes, but I am not certain I will ever...I do not know what my future holds. There may be no point in learning.”

He sounds so bleak and disappointed, dozens of questions pop in and out of Song Lan’s head, and he firmly shuts them behind a door. He isn’t going to intrude on this man’s private life.

“There is always value in learning something new,” he signs instead, and Cao Huan smiles ruefully.

“You sound like my brother,” he says, then snaps his mouth closed and hides the expressiveness of his face behind the neutral mask Song Lan is beginning to recognize, even if he’s still not certain what it means.

“Mm,” he agrees, one of the few sounds he can still make. To his surprise, Cao Huan laughs.

“Now you truly do sound like him. He is not a man of many words, but he is very eloquent with noncommittal sounds,” Cao Huan explains when Song Lan looks puzzled.

“You’re close?” Song Lan asks, and the shuttered expression returns.

Still, the man answers after a pause. “Yes, we were, but...he is gone now, living his own life. I am proud of him, but...it makes going home seem...different.”

Every word is reluctantly spoken, as though giving shape to them makes them dangerous. Song Lan vows not to ask any other questions, but Cao Huan keeps talking, and he can’t very well tell him to stop, either.

“Home used to mean people, but...they are grown or changed or…” his eyes close in obvious pain, and Song Lan wants to tell him to stop or distract him with a starboard nebula, but there’s nothing, just this palpable misery.

“Or gone,” he finishes. “Home is only a place now. It should be enough but…”

Song Lan understands this much at least.

“It’s too quiet.” He finishes Cao Huan’s sentence, and he means that home has always been Fuxue, but it no longer hums with love and laughter and Xingchen. It is the same place it was five years ago, but...it isn’t.

Abruptly, Cao Huan leans forward and squeezes Song Lan’s knee, his face softening in sympathy. It’s only a brief touch, but Song Lan’s body reacts like the brush of fingers is a line of electricity, both sharp and crushing, nothing like he expected, not that he could ever have expected this particular cataclysm. Has it been so long, he wonders, since someone touched him with kindness?

He stands, covering his sudden need to escape by hunting through one of the storage bins for a bigger set of knitting needles and a chunkier-gauge yarn. He sets them on Cao Huan’s lap.

“You may as well learn,” he signs with an easy smile. “We still have a week of travel left.”

Cao Huan laughs in disbelief when Song Lan shows him how to cast the yarn onto the needle, but he turns out to be a quick study, which Song Lan should have expected, given his dexterity with the guqin. Song Lan admits to himself that he likes the way the man’s face lights with the satisfaction of meeting a challenge, even more the way he brandishes a square of fairly smooth rows with such pride.

The quiet stretches out like a lazy cat, broken by the sound of clicking needles, and it settles serenely over Song Lan. Usually on transports, he is busy every waking moment, herding children, answering questions, sometimes even preventing bloodshed. He could get used to this uneventful kind of trip.

As if the gods have heard his thoughts, a piercing blue alarm sounds. Not an environmental emergency. Blue is an enemy attack.

Song Lan jams his needles into the yarn and tosses the whole bundle into the corner before turning to the screens, grabbing the yoke with one hand and snapping the comm headset onto his neural node with the other.

Where? he asks Fuxue through their mental link, and Xingchen’s voice relays the coordinates through the overhead speakers: 403 225 687.

He enlarges the image. Junk pirates. A mini-fleet of five. It could be worse, it could be Red Robe mercs or Goldlighters or soldiers of any major faction, but he isn’t looking forward to a run and gun. He scours the sector for a nearby...anything. There’s an asteroid field and two tiny stations, one in either direction, all so much further than is particularly helpful. He makes a decision and changes course, doubling back on the pirates and surging past them.

[Cao Huan, we have pirates,] he says via the comm. [We’re going to try to outrun them first.] He doesn’t bother explaining what the other option is.

“Give me tactical control,” Cao Huan says, calm and insistent, and even though he has no reason to think this man has ever even flown a ship before, Song Lan flips on the secondary pilot display and unlocks the manual gun controls.

[Fuxue is adapted for neural node. You’ll have to shoot manually, but it might at least scare them off,] he explains.

Cao Huan grins. “Or I might surprise you, Captain Song.”

He does, of course. Song Lan is busy avoiding the pirates’ attacks, so he can’t watch as carefully as he suspects he'd like to, but his new co-pilot seems to be racing through calculating targeting coordinates like he’s half computer. Interestingly, he isn’t aiming to destroy, only damage, and he knocks out the first two ships’ navigational cores with single, identical, virtually impossible shots.

Fuxue is easily faster than one of the ships, and Cao Huan clips its starboard wing, only dislodging the thruster, before they pull away. It’s enough to send the forty-meter ship spinning out of control in the opposite direction.

The last two though...they’re a problem. The smaller of the two has an expert pilot and gunner, and Fuxue takes several hits. One explodes against the side of the lifeboat bay, others destroy sensor arrays and scatter pieces of shielding into space. They’re going to have to do something drastic or they aren’t going to survive this.

[Rolleram?] he asks Cao Huan, not entirely sure if he’ll understand, but he nods once and waits for Song Lan to turn.

Song Lan rolls Fuxue in an arc and flies directly at the larger ship, avoiding a few shots before dodging around the ship on its right side, swooping down, using the ship as a blind. With a hard bank, he brings Fuxue up on the other side of the big pirate ship. The smaller ship is right in front of them, a perfect shot.

[Now!] he yells, but Cao Huan has already fired the phaser cannons, and without even looking, Song Lan knows he’s calculated Fuxue’s path and the pirate’s trajectory perfectly.

[Target disabled,] Fuxue confirms. [Nice shot, XO.]

Cao Huan’s mouth tips in the corner. “Thank you, Fuxue,” he says.

Song Lan shakes his head at them both. Since when did the passenger become his executive officer, and who thanks a ship’s AI?

But there’s no time to celebrate. The last ship, the largest ship, is less agile than Fuxue, but more heavily armed and is throwing everything at them in a last ditch effort. With a jarring lurch, Fuxue shudders, and Song Lan grimaces.

[Port wing…]

[Yes I know,] he snaps. He only barely has enough rudder to pivot Fuxue, pure luck more than anything. They won’t survive one more impact like that.

“Wei Drop?” Cao Huan suggests, and Song Lan snorts.

[Play dead?] No one who has ever seen the Wei Drop is fooled by it twice. But even as he derides the idea, he realizes it might work. It’s going to have to. Cao Huan is a good enough shot, and they don’t have a lot of choices left.

[Fine, but if this doesn’t work, you owe me a ship,] he says, killing Fuxue’s engine, shutting down all the systems, and letting his ship slowly start to drift oh-so-subtly in a circle.

It works. He can’t believe it works, but the pirates stop shooting, probably reluctant to break their new salvage any more than necessary, and coast toward Fuxue.

When Fuxue has made a full rotation, when Song Lan can almost see the attacking crew through the shielded fore windows, he looks at Cao Huan, who nods.

It happens so fast, the two of them working in unison to flip on all the power, stabilize Fuxue, take aim, and fire twice. At the last second, the pirate ship banks, trying to escape the shot, but they’re too close, far too close, and instead of disabling the wing or navigation, or whatever Cao Huan was aiming for, the ship explodes in a blinding blast of nuclear white light.

The last thing Song Lan thinks, the last thing he has time to think before the shockwave hits them, is Xingchen is going to be so mad about his ship.

[mimssides]

Life on Crow Avenue: Part 17

Read on AO3

Masterpost | Taglist

First | Previous | Next

___

Remus checked himself out in the mirror. Lime t-shirt with the motive of a red rose being stabbed with an intricately carved knife. Black washed-out jeans. His favourite khaki jacket with the anarchist patch he sewed on it, next to it the Mexican flag. His worn-out converse with the rainbow laces and the black beanie with the white stars stitched on it.

With a sigh he turned away from the mirror and joined Roman in the kitchen. He was in his usual casual weekend wear; grey sweatshirt, light-blue jeans and red sneakers. The jeans were one of Remus’s most hated pieces in Roman’s wardrobe. It was an ill-fit for Roman’s body type, too big and the colour was just terrible. He had more than once tried to kidnap and then destroy the hideous abomination which called itself jeans. To his chagrin Roman had always caught him before and stopped his attempts at pant assassination.

Yet right now Remus did not worry about the jeans. He exchanged a look with his brother and they simultaneously let out a sigh.

“We’re doing this?” Remus made sure, as Roman grabbed the keys for the delivery van.

Roman shrugged and opened their door stopping for Remus to follow him.

“Apparently we are. Virgil was very insistent on going to buy furniture with us. He even did not open the store for his emergency service, so we kinda have to. Right?” Roman answered sounding rather unsure but walking down the stairs with his brother anyway.

This time Remus just shrugged as they left the building and walked onto the sidewalk. He wasn’t sure what the correct protocol in their situation was and he just hoped everything would turn out to be alright. And before either twin could muse any longer, they were spotted by Patton and Logan, who had been dragged along by Virgil to join the whole let-us-buy-furniture-for-the-twins operation. Both seemed to be in a rather good mood and greeted them, while waiting for Janus and Virgil to show up.

After five minutes the two joined them and the six men split up with Remus, Logan, Janus and Patton in Patton’s car while Virgil would go with Roman in the twins’ delivery van. Like that both groups had someone in the car who knew where the place was where they would go and buy furniture.

With them all split up they set off to the thrift store which belonged to a friend of one of Janus’s brothers.

“So, which one of your famed uncles has recommended this place we’re going to?” Roman asked Virgil as soon as they had hit the road.

“Mars. He’s not my favourite but he knows a lot of people and I’ve actually been there before,” Virgil answered as he typed the street name of their destination into his phone.

Roman hummed and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

“I thought you knew the way?”

“I do!” Virgil said defensively. “It’s just- Rather safe than sorry, am I right?”

Roman chuckled and looked over to the younger man with a smirk when they halted at a stop sign.

“No need to fright, Virgey. I’m messing with you,” Roman told Virgil with a wink and watched him pout before he continued driving.

After a few minutes Roman began to ask what he had bought at “Bottom Drawer” before and what kind of stuff they offered. Virgil told him that they were focused on second hand furniture but also sold some new stuff, which they had been able to buy cheaply from bigger stores because pieces were slightly defect or they just hadn’t been able to sell it in time. Roman listened closely and Virgil didn’t notice how he started to talk about first moving into the flat with Janus, when they had opened Zookeepers two years ago.

Roman was a little surprised by Virgil’s openness. He had assumed that Virgil was rather reserved and generally only seemed to talk more when Janus was around. It was what he had gathered from the meals and the few Friday nights he had spent with others but around Roman alone the younger man opened up quite a bit. Roman was grateful for it even though he didn’t quite understand. While Patton, Logan and Janus were great people, and he liked all of them a good bit, Virgil was a little different from them. He had something that Roman had missed, a quality he had hoped to find in his friends again for a long while. He was not quite sure yet what it was but he was not in a rush and kept contently listening to Virgil talking about the shenanigans with his uncle and sometimes telling him in which direction to turn.

After an hour and a half, they had reached their destination and the six men found themselves in front of an older-looking storage hall. Janus took the lead after stretching his back for a bit and led them into the “Bottom Drawer”.

“So, we are looking for two bedframes, a couch, a coffee/side table, a dining table and matching chairs as well as decorative accessories. Is that correct so far?” Logan said while looking on the notes on his phone after they entered.

Roman shot Remus a look and the older twin shrugged with a grin: “He was trapped in the backseat with me. So, he started making conversation after the front seat people got annoyed with me commenting what I saw outside.”

“It wasn’t annoying!” Patton protested as Janus visibly rolled his eyes.

“Just- a little distracting in the way you did it,” the tattoo artist added sheepishly.

Roman pressed his lips together to keep a grin from spreading and glanced to Remus who looked exceptionally proud of himself. Quickly Roman shook his head and confirmed Logan’s list. They decided to first go for the bedframes and started with their search for a bedroom section.

The hall was quite big and there were a few people walking around and looking through the aisles. From almost vintage looking chairs, over to weirdly modern looking lamps they seemed to have everything. There wasn’t really an obvious system behind the setup and it was comfortably disorganized with leaving the customers enough space to walk by the furniture and knickknacks on the shelves.

After a few minutes of searching and then debating if they should ask a someone who worked there where to look for bedroom furniture, Virgil caught a glimpse of a bunk bed and the group made its way to the bedframes. As they wandered around Janus pointed a few bedframes out to Roman and eventually both of them stopping in front of a simple frame out of redwood. Roman checked the measurements of the frame as to see if his mattress at home would fit, when he heard an excited yelp from behind.

Confounded both he and Janus turned and saw Remus quickly jumping on the spot before he actually jumped over the edge of a bed to get across it. With furrowed brows Roman watched his brother for a second until he spotted the traitorous object of Remus’s interest and let out an annoyed groan.

“What is going on?” Virgil asked with slight panic creeping into his voice, while Roman walked past the others and followed his brother.

Roman shook his hands over his head and said without looking back: “Noting! Nothing but stupid neon orange!”

That confused Virgil so much that he forgot his panic and just blankly stared at Roman’s back until he finally lifted his gaze and saw what he was walking towards. And that was indeed neon orange.

Very loud neon orange.

Baffled Virgil and now also the rest of the group stared and Remus hopping onto a neon orange bedframe, smiling widely and enthusiastically as Roman approached. Quickly the others got out of their shock and followed the younger twin.

“Really? It has to be this one? This hideous orange?” Roman asked in an irritated tone.

Triumphantly Remus lifted his chin and wiggled his eyebrows.

“We both know the answer and I’m winning.”

Dramatically Roman shook his hand over his head and turned around with a look of lost faith in the gods above. The sheer dramatics of this display led Virgil to snicker and Roman shot him an annoyed look before he announced he’d go and look for a side table. Remus just snickered and got up from the bed, checking for the price tag and the number on the thing, so they would find it later when they would go and buy all of it.

The group rummaged a little longer in the bedroom section, both brothers having found a side table and Roman also a little desk and matching chair for his room. They then went on to the dining and living room stuff. It was there where Roman suddenly let out a happy sound and hurried up to a rather big round table made of walnut. The foot in the middle was round and had a little rose pattern carved in the bottom. Fascinated Roman touched the tabletop and joyfully realized that it was extendable.

“I need to see how big this one gets,” Roman mumbled under his breath and perked up looking around for someone who worked there.

“Seriously? Don’t you think that’s enough table for us? Like it already fits 8 people at least!” Remus said while Roman waved somebody over.

Roman just shot him a look and said: “You get a neon orange bedframe and I get to have a table for huge get togethers. Also, we have the space and I let you choose the chairs.”

Remus rolled his eyes, as the retail worker came over and helped Roman figure out how to extend the table. Childishly happy Roman shook his hands for a moment and then turned to Remus to check if they could afford all of what they had seen so far. After a shockingly short moment Remus had added up all the prices in his head and confirmed that they still could look for chairs.

“And a couch,” Janus pointed out when both brothers already turned to look for some chairs.

They shot Janus a look, exchanged a short glance and promptly walked over to where they had seen a few couches standing around. Not thirty seconds passed when they both steered towards a dark grey three-seater and plumped down on it simultaneously.

“This one,” they agreed in unison and got back up to look for chairs.

Baffled from the sudden agreement of the twins the others exchanged a few startled looks before they followed them again for the search for chairs. Luckily, they were rather at deciding on a few rather simplistic looking white chairs and then went to the next retail worker to help them get all the pieces they needed. The young woman who they had approached seemed a little surprised at first when they told her what they all wanted to buy but quickly got hang of herself and got a trolley and they collected most pieces but the bedframes and the table. For Roman’s bedframe and the table they got a separate bigger trolley and as for the neon orange bedframe; they still had models of it in storage, so they could get a boxed one and put it together at home.

The whole ordeal took quite a while and somehow Roman managed to recruit another worker of the ‘Bottom Drawer’, as well as two guys who had been browsing through the store to help them carrying everything to the van after paying. With a flashing smile he thanked them and told Janus almost within the same breath: “Can you take one of the chairs? Or can’t you do that?”

Confused Janus blinked and said: “I could take one but isn’t it more efficient if someone would carry several chairs? I do not see how me taking one would contribute to the whole thing.”

“Bah, bah, bah! Just take one, so you have something to do as well. Otherwise you’d just stand around and like that you’ll have contributed to all of this. Now, take the chair and stop arguing with me. This was your idea as well and you’re going to help!”

A laughing Remus walked by Janus’s side and the man with the bowler hat huffed and pouted picking up one of the white chairs. Soon after they had everything packed up and drove back home again.

___

It was pushing 6 pm and the old furniture of the twins was standing on the sidewalk, the new one upstairs and Roman was kneeling on the living room floor beginning to assemble the most orange piece of furniture the twins had ever possessed. Originally, Patton had offered him some help but after watching him looking at the Allen key with dread in his eyes, Roman took it upon himself. Well, Remus had helped him unpack at first but got distracted when Logan had asked him about their flower encyclopaedia and abandoned his brother in favour to talk with the nerd. Roman didn’t really mind, especially not when he watched Patton join them and ask if he had also one with flower meanings since flowers were a quite popular motive with his clients lately.

No, Roman was happy with Janus commenting on him reading the instructions and making small piles of all the different screws, chubs, nuts and chubs that had come with it.

“Stop being so cocky, Janny,” Roman said with a smirk and pushed his hair back out of his face. “At least I know how to read an instruction and put together a bed frame. I would be far more embarrassed if I couldn’t do that despite being the one initiating this whole operation.”

Janus let out an appalled gasped and Roman laughed heartily. Meanwhile Virgil sat down next to Roman looking at the little instruction booklet and the piles Roman had made. He wanted to help. After all, this had been his idea and even though he did not know how to assemble a bedframe and was quite honestly a little scared of it, he wanted to try and help.

“Uhm, so,” Virgil mumbled with a testing glance at Roman, “where do you start? I never, uh, did this before?”

Roman laughed a bit and told him to scoot over to his side so he could see the booklet from the right side. With a gentle jab then and there Roman explained Virgil what to do, while also bickering with Janus when the latter made a snide comment. Slowly, but steadily they put the thing together and when it was around seven and it looked like they were almost about finished, Roman sat back for a moment and stretched his back.

Roman was tired. He was clammy and hungry from all the work they did. He was also a little worn out from the chatter, the people, the interacting and directing all these people as much as he had done today. And he hadn’t felt so much at peace since –

He didn’t remember anymore and exhaled lengthily with a dopey smile.

“You eat cheese?”

Virgil almost dropped the screw driver when Roman asked him that and turned to him in confusion.

“Yeah? I’m vegetarian not vegan,” he answered and observed Roman grin a little.

“That’s great. Rem?”

Remus sitting at the new table with Patton and Logan, turned on his seat and quirked his eyebrow up in anticipation.

“I assembled this monstrosity which will be your bed, so could you make mac and cheese? Otherwise, I’m going to faint soon,” Roman whined.

A grin curled up around Remus’s lips and he got up, made a dramatic bow and answered: “As you wish, príncipe!”

Remus disappeared in the kitchen and Roman told Patton, Logan and Janus to come help him and Virgil hold the last part and then carrying it into his brother’s room. There was some swearing and complaining (latter mostly from Janus’s front) but eventually they got everything in place and they all felt satisfaction wash over them. It was done.

“I’m done soon! Change your shirt Ro! I don’t wanna eat next to a stinky prince!” Remus shouted from the kitchen.

With a huff Roman walked out of his brother’s room, already beginning to pull his sweater over his head. A bit scandalized Janus watched the warm beige skin which was suddenly exposed and felt something drop within him, as the made out the lighter markings of a burn just above his hip and a few light cuts above it.

But he did not get to linger too long on the look of Roman’s exposed back, as he soon disappeared in his room and shouted to his brother annoyedly: “I’m sorry that I worked so hard on your stupid bed! I better half-ass my job the next time!”

“Stop being a diva!” Remus shot back from the kitchen and the two brothers bantered for a while.

Amused the four other man walked back into the living room. Patton went to help Remus with the cutlery and plates, which he should bring over to the tv, while Janus sat down on the edge of the couch. Logan joined him and Virgil said he’d step out for a second to make a call home. Irritated Janus looked after him but did not comment on it. Roman waked into the room soon after, now wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants. With a grin he planted himself next to Janus and then asked him if he was less concerned sitting on this couch than on their old one.

“I do. In fact, I am very positive that it will not give me a deadly disease like the last one very certainly would have,” Janus answered.

Roman snorted and laid his head against the back lean watching Janus unmistakeably fondly. He was so exhausted and happy. Everything was a little blurry but in a good way. He could be quiet and not listen for a bit. He saw Virgil coming back inside, taking a seat on the beanbag next to the couch and how Janus talked to him. He saw how Logan turned to see Remus and Patton come into the living room, bringing them all their plates and food. He ate his mac and cheese happily, just as the others did and gave the plate back to Remus and Patton when they all had finished. He noticed the tv being turned on in the background, and that there was some kind of movie running, when his eyes fell shut and he dozed off.

He was holding something. It was warm. It smelled nice. It had the potential to become home.

He felt a flick on his knee and opened his eyes. For a moment the buzz was still there and then it was clear. He let go of Janus’s arm and apologized despite not feeling very sorry and got up from the couch with a stretch.

“Sorry guys, ��m beat. Thanks for today, I’m gonna test my bed now,” Roman said nudging Janus’s shoulder and then walking towards the bathroom to brush his teeth before going to bed.

In his tired state he had not noticed Janus utterly flushed face nor Remus’s snickering or Virgil’s shyly hopeful grin. He just knew that he wanted to lie down in his bed for the first time in a few years and sleep in the next day.

___

@varthandi

@sickeningly-deceitful

@sammy-is-obsessed / @exhaustedfander

@unoriginalgayboyalex

@alexisrealgay

@softie-sushi

@wolfs-feder

@just-a-neoclassical-painting

@winter-jay-official

@a-ghostlight-for-roman

Tagged for this fic:

@frawkeye

@arodynamic-enby

@espepspes

@bullet-tothefeels

@fukindork

@shadeofadye

@magic-but-its-green

@croftersjam15

[turquoise-stones]

Edge of Insanity Ch. 6: Where From Now?

yandere!Todoroki x fem!reader

previous chapter, masterlist for older chapters

. . .

"...and yesterday I didn't really say what I wanted clearly so to reiterate... I promise that I would never do anything like that. I want to be a hero and I swear I will become one, on my own terms, with my own hard work." You stated firmly, slightly breathless from the long rambling speech you just gave to your classmates.

"And I would never let you guys down like that..." you said, suddenly growing shy as you became more aware of everyone's unblinking gaze. "So please believe me."

You glanced at Uraraka, and she gave you a discrete thumbs up.

"We believe you, (y/n)," Yaoyorozu called out. "Or at least I believe you. If it's your word over a stranger's, I'll definitely trust you."

Murmurs of agreement sounded throughout the classroom and you let out the breath you had been holding.

"Yeah! They don't know that you're the best (y/n)! Whoever said you paid your way here should go to hell!" Kirishima said, clapping his fist into his hand. Louder murmurs started, and you almost started crying from relief. You let out a string of thank yous, before taking your seat. You beamed at your classmates, happy beyond measure that the crisis was finally over.

"Okay, so now that that's done, homeroom is just about over," Aizawa grumbled, not even bothering to sit up from his sleeping bag on the floor. "Just go early. And exit quietly."

. . .

"That was very eloquent, (y/n)!" Iida said enthusiastically, giving you a (mildly painful) congratulatory clap on the back. "Very well worded. I particularly enjoyed the 'jealousy breeds spite' part."

"T-thank you. I'm glad it's done. And I'm sorry for doubting you guys. I was just so out of it..."

"You should be sorry!" Uraraka admonished. "When you ran away yesterday we were so worried!"

"Sorry sorry..." you muttered, embarrassed but still so thankful that you had a group of supportive friends at your side.

"And if anything like that happens again in the future, please let us know immediately!" Midoriya quipped, looking at you with big eyes. You nodded, promising you would and giving him a big smile. It was almost dreamlike, how lucky and loved you suddenly felt.

Midoriya's eyes suddenly widened and he turned away. "Ah! By the way, Iida..."

The conversation diverged from there, and you took the opportunity to take a few bites of lunch. Yesterday was so hectic, it felt good to just hang out with your friends again. Maybe today would go by without a hitch.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better." Todoroki said quietly into your ear. You jumped from the feeling of his breath and your head snapped up to him before you quickly glanced away with a flush. You hadn't spoken a word to him since that incident in the storage room. You were grateful that he sought you out and comforted you of course, but it was just... awkward now. And despite your best efforts to avoid him earlier today, he managed to slip next to you during lunch.

"I am. Thank you for... being there, Todoroki." you turned redder as you tried to find the words, cursing yourself for getting so flustered.

It wasn't like you meant to pull away from him like that either. It was just staggering to wake up in the lap of someone you admired and respected so much, tangled up in such an embarrassingly intimate way. And because of your reaction, he probably thought you weren't interested in him when that couldn't be further from the truth.

He looked down at his lunch, suddenly deep in thought. You chewed at your lip as an awkward silence fell between you two.

"Are you... do you still want to study together after school today?" He asked, uncertainty obvious in the crease of his eyebrows.

You recalled how he would often study with you after you finished work, but obviously, he had given you space and left you alone yesterday. Peeking up at him, you nodded. It would be awkward and you knew it, but it was probably better to just get over this bump in your relationship with him sooner rather than later.

He nodded in return, feeling satisfied. It warmed him to know that you wanted to continue your relationship with him, despite his advances yesterday. Perhaps, he thought, later that day in the library where it was private and quiet, he could apologize for being so forward with his actions.

You barely noticed how your friends had stopped their chattering to not so discreetly watch the exchange between you and Todoroki. Lost in thought, you didn't notice the way he was looking at you until he bumped his knee against yours.

"You should eat, (y/n)."

"Y-yes." You stuttered out, hastily picking up your chopsticks.

. . .

"So... you're gonna tell me what's wrong?"

"Hm? What?" You asked, snapping you out of your distracted haze.

Uraraka closed her locker before leaning against it, casting you a knowing look.

"Between you and Todoroki? I don't think I've seen the two of you so awkward around each other since... like never."

"Oh... really? I didn't know it was so apparent."

She let out a teasing laugh. "Of course it's apparent! You two are practically glued onto each other all the time! So duh it's weird to see you guys avoid each other!"

You flushed indignantly. "We aren't glued!"

"You two so are! It's cute though!"

"I-"

She let out another peal of laughter at the pout on your face, suppressing her teasing because there were more pressing matters at hand.

"So... something happened right? You two didn't get into a fight did you?"

"No no of course not! Actually kind of the opposite."

"Huh?"

"Come on let's start walking to class. I'll tell you on the way."

"Okay."

The two of you strode along, and you leaned in to avoid being overheard. There were already enough rumors of you floating around, you couldn't bear any more false scandals (especially one involving the son of a pro hero).

"I... I think Todoroki likes me."

"Yeah." She said, completely deadpan.

"Yeah!?"

At that point, Midoriya caught up to you and Uraraka, falling in pace. The way he was jamming books into his backpack as he walked told you he had just come from his locker as well.

"Hi guys. Sorry for interrupting."

"Izuku! Do you think Todoroki likes (y/n)?"

"Shhh! Ochako please talk quieter!" You said frantically.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Why?" Midoriya asked, looking between the two of you in confusion.

"Yeah!?!?" You cried out, shocked at how unsurprised and aloof they were.

"See! I told you (y/n)! Of course he likes you!"

"No, like—romantically." You explained, coming to the realization that perhaps Uraraka and Midoriya had interpreted your question wrong, and that was why their answers were so unconcerned.

"No, we know." Midoriya said, much to your embarrassment. He turned a bit pink himself before continuing. "...I don't think I've seen Todoroki look at anyone the way he looks at you."

"Except maybe his cold soba." Uraraka chimed in. The two of them let out a few chuckles but you were much too caught off guard to join them.

"He... he... does?"

"Yes, it's so obvious (y/n)! Everyone can tell!"

"Really? Do you think that too Izuku?"

"It's really true." Midoriya said earnestly. "Todoroki may be bad at expressing his emotions, but when they come, he's bad at hiding them too."

"Are you guys sure? I can't believe-"

"If you want like... evidence," Uraraka offered, "just think about your library 'study sessions'. Do you think that if it were me, Todoroki would stay and talk to me like that?"

"Um. Yes?"

"No!" She laughed. "It's kinda cute how dense you are~!"

You fell silent, processing her words and their implications. Todoroki liked you. It was bizarre. And you liked him as well, as a friend and perhaps as more. Did that mean that the two of you...? The three of you made it to your next class, and huddled together to continue speaking.

"But (y/n), that doesn't explain why you guys are so awkward today?" Urakaka asked, remembering the catalyst of this whole conversation.

"Ah, now that I think about it, you two are rather cold with each other today." Midoriya said thoughtfully. "Does this have to do with the post yesterday?"

"Well kind of? It's a bit... embarrassing to tell you guys."

"Tell us!" Uraraka chimed.

"Yeah, you just promised to tell us your problems." Midoriya gently urged you.

"...well you know how I didn't go to our last class yesterday?"

"Oh yeah..."

"I'm sorry I didn't notice..."

"It's okay." You said hastily upon seeing the guilty expressions that adorned their face. "Todoroki came to look for me."

"But-"

"He said-"

Uraraka and Midoriya looked at each other in confusion before unanimously landing on the answer. "Bathroom."

"Ah, was that how he got out of class?" You questioned, feeling a bit guilty that he lied and skipped class just to talk to you. "Anyways, we talked and I fell asleep. And when I woke up, I... I... I think he almost kissed me." You rushed out. You strategically decided to omit the part where you were practically on top of him.

Two jaws collectively hit the ground.

"Are you serio-"

"Oh my God (y-)"

"I can't believe Todoroki would do... like it's Todoroki."

"He must really like y-"

"I said almost! Almost! We didn't..." You said frantically, waving your hands around to hush them.

"Well what happened?"

"Yeah what did he say?"

"I think I pulled away." You said nervously.

"What? Why? Don't you like him too?" Midoriya questioned bluntly, causing a hot blush to saturate your face.

"(Y/nnnn) can't you just let this ship sail?" Uraraka whined loudly, worsening your flustered state as your classmates around you cast confused looks her way.

"I do like him! I do... I don't know why I pulled away, it's all my fault that it's awkward now!" You cried, hiding your face in your hands from a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. "Or maybe I just hallucinated it and he didn't even lean in!"

"Just tell him how you feel?" Midoriya suggested.

"That's easier said than done." Uraraka took the words right to your mouth.

"Oh my god Todoroki and (y/n) together... you two are honestly such good fits for each other..." Midoriya mumbled offhandedly.

"What should I do?" You looked to the two of them for advice, deliberately avoiding Midoriya's comment lest you become more red-faced. "We're going to be alone in the library today and I don't want things to get even more awkward..."

"Do you want to be with him?" Uraraka asked softly.

"...yes." You said, equally softly, before turning all shades of pink. "Well... I don't know. I feel like we haven't known each other long enough. I don't want things to fall apart."

"Then tell him, like that." She smiled. "I believe in you!"

"O-okay. I can do that... I will. Thank you for the advice, Ochako, Izuku."

They smiled and rattled off a few more encouraging words, before the teacher opened the door and beckoned everyone in.

[neocity-sarai]

“Love in _____” series

❀ chapter 4: reader x jeno

❀ friends to lovers

❀ alerts: fluff, tinge of angst, language, suggestive, making out

❀ song rec: “somebody to you” by the vamps ft. demi lovato

Just splendid. The moment you had stepped onto the streets outside of the Los Angeles airport, you groaned at the piece of gum that clung to the bottom of your new high tops- a going away gift from your parents. They were overjoyed that you’d be interning at one of the biggest independent film studios as a makeup assistant- even more than you were. In your free time, you’d read magazines about the year’s top 20 cosmetic brands and brush techniques that were applied on Hollywood’s biggest celebrities. Some of your friends claimed that being a makeup artist wasn’t being an artist in itself. To you, it was the exact opposite. Makeup had the power to beautify and transform even when the canvas was already beautiful. 

So far, you didn’t feel the excitement yet. The air smelt foggy, grey clouds hung above the city in a clump, and you taxi driver had no interest to indulge in your conversation at all. You sat in the back seat, gazing out the car window as you watched the city blur past you. You passed the Hollywood sign that perched on it’s mountain and the palm trees that lined rodeo drive- cars parked on every meter of the block. As your playlist shuffled on, you couldn’t believe you managed to make it to California by yourself. 

After your taxi driver dropped you off at your air b and b, you settled yourself in the studio space: a cozy bedroom complete with a bathroom and living room area. Much bigger than your room back home, you didn’t complain at all. That evening, you decided to go grocery shopping as you cooked an adequate meal for yourself- excited jitters bouncing in your stomach. Tomorrow would be your first day at the studio. You promised yourself you’d give it all you’ve got. 

“Where is Matthew?!”

You stare back at a woman who’s dressed in a tight pencil skirt and white button-up as she continues to yell at you, “Are you Matthew?!”

Confusedly, you look around the film warehouse, “No- I-”

She turns to the left of you, stepping around you, “Matthew! You over there! Get on the coffee orders for the screenwriting team!”

A few fairs fall out of the woman’s perfect bun, her chest heaving from yelling, “Are you the new makeup assistant?”

Nodding at her, you speak, “Yeah. I am-”

“I don’t care who you are. Go report to Constance, she’s in aisle 4.”

Just like that, the woman leaves you standing in shock. You had interned with other film studios before, yet they all had welcomed you with soft-spoken voices and smiles. You were in Hollywood now, the epicenter of film and pop culture. It was no brainer that people seemed more abrasive. Eventually, you made your way to aisle 4- the cosmetics department. A girl no older than you stood by a row of vanities that made her darker-toned skin glow in the violet light that radiated from the mirrors. She was organizing an array of brushes, palettes, and hair products as she tied her hair into a loose braid. Black frames cover her eyebrows as they sit on the bridge of her nose, she wears a black uniform.

You lightly tap her on the shoulder, “Uh, hi. Could you point me in the direction of Constance?”

She turns to you, a smile gracing her mauve lips, “Are you y/n? The new assistant?”

You nod, “Yes, that’s me!”

Sweeping her braid over her shoulder, she replies, “Constance is out getting lunch for us right now but I’d be happy to take you around the studio? My name’s Terra!”

Reaching out your hand, you shake Terra’s hand firmly, “I’d love that.”

You ask her, “So what do you do?”

Adjusting her glasses, Terra chuckles, “I’m Constance’s personal secretary. I help train the newcomers, organize her schedule, and book her clients. I’m sure we’ll be working together very often.”

“Thank you for showing me around, I was really nervous when I first got here. Someone thought I was Matthew?”

Terra eyes you knowingly, “Was she a woman about yea tall, office outfit and had a bellowing voice?”

Nodding, you laugh, “Sounds like a perfect description.” “Don’t mind Valencia. She's a handful. She intimidated me until I found out that she just worked for PR. She likes to be bossy.”

As you and Terra breeze through the aisles, Terra gives you a tour through each of the studio’s sections. First was screenwriting and producing, the director’s office, and costume/set design. You continued to keep up with her, people waving to Terra with a bright smile as she told you stories and funny moments that occurred within the departments.

“Don’t tick off anyone from PR, they’ll give you an earful. If you want snacks, go to screenwriting because they like to keep the clients happy and full. If you want to talk to someone about a problem with work, the board office is over there.”

Nodding along, she leads you to a set that rests in the corner of the warehouse. Your eyes trail over the numerous light stands and propped up green screens, wires scattering like a web on the ground. With a blurry flash, a boy comes into view. When you look up, you don’t expect to be met with such a handsome boy. He wears a pair of black dress pants and a flaming red jacket, his dark auburn hair gelled back. You take note of the sharpness of his jaw and the way his features harden in the spotlight, “Terra! What’s up?”

Terra socks a punch into the boy’s arm, “Jeno, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Terra turns to you, her eyes motioning towards Jeno before he smiles at you, his eyes curling into crescent moons, “Who might you be?”

You barely choke on your words, “H-hi, my name’s y/n..”

Jeno extends his hand to you, you feel the texture of his callous fingers on your skin- a blush creeps onto your cheeks unwillingly. He’s still smiling at you, “My name’s Jeno. Welcome to Sunfire studios.”

Terra bumps her elbow at your arm, “Y/n’s gonna have to go through the whole process just like the old days.”

Chuckling, Jeno runs his fingers through his dark hair, “We did it, everyone’s gotta I assume.”

Terra places a hand on Jeno’s shoulder, “Well, we’ll leave you to your project. See you, hotshot.”

“Later, Terra. Good meeting you, y/n. See you around?”

You nod a little too quickly, “Yeah-right- Jeno?”

Jeno grunts in agreement before disappearing behind a set of double doors by the green screen. Terra tugs you along, her eyebrows wiggling, “So, what did you think of everything?”

You chuckle at her, “Everything seems great. I'm really excited to be here.”

Terra eyes you, “Any burning questions you have for me?”

At first, you try to decide against it. With a random surge of confidence, your question comes out in a sputter of words, “N-not that it’s my business but are you with Jeno?”

Terra raises her brows suggestively, eyes widening, “Really?”

You squeak, “Uh, yes?”

Terra bursts out into violent laughter, “Jeno and I are just good partners- we’re friends. Plus, I’m more into girls anyway.”

You breath hitches in your throat, “Oh.”

“What, don’t seem like it?”

You wave your hands in the air at her, “No! No, it’s not that. I just thought seeing you two, you were-”

A sinister smile creeps onto Terra’s face, “I see what it is. You have a crush on Jeno, don't you?”

Shaking your head wildly, you almost manage to spit in her face, “No! I- that’s not it!”

Terra gives you a slap on the back as if you were old friends, “Not to worry- every newcomer experiences a crush on Jeno.”

You pause, “What’s that mean?”

Terra pushes up her glasses again, “Be careful if I were you. Being here for 3 years, I’ve seen Jeno break a lot of hearts without him meaning to. He’s not a play boy or an asshole. When girls confess their feelings to him, all he can talk about is his dream of becoming the best film-maker and how he won’t let anything get in the way of his dream- including romances.”

Gulping, you nod, “Right- I was just wondering.”

You try to ignore the sinking feeling in your heart and the momentary butterflies of a boy you literally just met. What were you hoping for? You too, weren’t at Sunfire for distractions either. Terra puts an arm around your shoulder, “Jeno spends his time trailing after the directors like a love-sick puppy, you’ll only have to work with him for a short time. I want to see if you can break the string of girls who fall for him.”

You nod at her, “Right, I won’t lose my focus.”

A smirk graces Terra’s lips, “Time will tell.”

When you make it back to the cosmetics department, you finally meet Constance. She’s an African American woman, her jet-black curls bounce over her clothed shoulder when she hands Terra a bag of takeout. Terra speaks first, “Constance, this is y/n- the assistant.”

Constance turns to you, her irises glinting with glee, “Ah yes! Welcome y/n! If you ever have trouble with anything, don’t hesitate to contact me alright?”

Nodding, you smile at her, “Thank you so much. I’m happy to be working under you.”

“Yes! Yes! Now, eat!”

After lunch hour was over, you found yourself sneaking glances at Jeno when he’d talk to Constance. You were given the task of sorting the new and expired makeup from the storage room, not the job that you’d hope to have. Still, you were grateful that Terra and Constance were kind to you. Rummaging through boxes of eyeshadow palettes, you hear a voice from behind you. You see Jeno lean his body against the closet’s door frame, “Working hard y/n?”

You fall back onto your butt from your crouching position, “Jeno- don’t sneak up on me like that..”

Jeno laughs, his thin lips stretching across his face, “Sorry, I’m on break right now.”

“You’re good. How’s the project  going?”

Jeno’s contorts with surprise, “Terra told you about my project?”

“Well, not specifically? just that you are working on something for the directors?”

Visibly, you watch Jeno let out a relieved sigh, his hand placed on his heart, “Oh good. Yeah- the directors gave me a film assignment to do. I’m taking a while because my creative juices have been stunted.”

You reply back to him, “Why is that?”

Instead of answering you, Jeno grumbles as he bites his lower lip, “The assignment is difficult is all.”

“Maybe I can help?”

In front of you, Jeno waves his hands in front of you refusingly, “No, no. I must do this on my own. Otherwise, I can’t give my 100% effort.”

From behind him, you hear Constance yell at Jeno, “Jeno back to work! Break time’s over!”

Jeno flashes a toothy grin at you, “Have fun sorting through expired makeup y/n.”

Scoffing, you smile, “Have fun doing whatever secret assignment you have.”

“Later, y/n.”

Like that, Jeno walks back to his corner of the warehouse- leaving you in the dusty closet alone as you sigh at the numerous boxes you have yet to go through. 

A week later

Constance and Terra make sure to debrief you of everything that’s happening at the studio today, a line of investors are working with Sunfire Studios to arrange some kind of agreement. You try to avoid the cold eyes of the burly men dressed in freshly-pressed suits as they pass the makeup department by. You swallow the lump in your throat from the intimidation. Terra whispers in your ear, “Those guys can’t ever control their temper, I always hear them screaming at Mr. Stevens.”

You flick your eyes back up to Terra, “They would scream at the director?”

Nodding at you, she frowns, “In the film business, everyone’s critical of everyone.”

Cautiously, you and Terra clean the makeup brushes in order to lessen Constance’s load- you hadn’t seen her all day as she was sitting through grueling meetings with the other departments. Suddenly, you spot the investors exit out the door as they grumble to themselves, rolling their eyes. 

“Do you think the meeting went well?”

Terra tuts, “Based on their faces, I don’t think so. Be prepared for Mr. Stevens to be snappy for the next week.”

Conveniently, you hear Mr. Stevens bellow his voice at Jeno, waving his hand around, “You call this good work?! You’ve been off your ball game Jeno! At this rate, how can you make films if you can’t put together a measly project son?!”

Terra looks up from her brushes, “There he goes again.”

“Shouldn’t we step in? Is it okay for him to yell at Jeno like that?”

Shaking her head, Terra sighs, “No, it’s best to leave them be. It’s always like this, Mr. Stevens is trying to teach Jeno the ways of the industry. Jeno gets frustrated for a few days and then he works too hard until he faints.”

“That’s not healthy?”

“No, but it works for Jeno.”

Though you hadn’t known him for long, you couldn’t help but feel concerned. You watched Jeno storm out of Mr. Steven’s office and out the back door, slamming it out of anger. You want to help him, to comfort him. Terra’s hand on your shoulder, stopping you, “Don’t anger him further, let him cool off a bit.”

Closing your mouth, you go back to work. Like that, another day passes by and when you lay on your bed at night, you still think of Jeno. 

In the morning

“Terra! Y/n!” 

You step beside Terra, taking in every piece of Constance’s instructions. Constance guides a younger girl into your view. Constance continues, “Today, we will be participating in the creative pitch meeting today. Here is the film we will be working on and the makeup looks that production has asked us to do. If Mr. Stevens doesn’t approve, we will be sat out of this production. This is our only shot.”

You nod determinedly, “Let’s do it.”

Constance motions the girl to come forward, “This is Mr. Steven’s niece- she will be helping with small tasks and observing.”

Terra flashes a bright smile and a thumbs up, “Welcome to the team kiddo!”

You add, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Timidly, the girl tugs on her blonde ponytail, “Blair..”

You squeeze her hand, “Want to help me test out lipstick shades Blair?”

Reluctantly, she runs over to you, a laugh drifting out of her lips after you lift her on to one of the chairs that sits in front of a vanity. Constance smiles, scratching her chin, “Terra, do you mind coming with me? I need you to help me get some of the fabric samples in the costume department.”

“Sure, Constance. You’ll be okay y/n?”

You reply back with a wide smile, “Of course. Don’t worry.”

While they’re gone, you receive a text from Constance. 

<12:54 PM (Constance- Sunfire Studios): hey y/n. Can you get started on the hair dye? The actresses will be here a bit early and the hair department is low on staff at the moment. You’ll need A34 in Chestnut Copper, B78 in Licorice Black, and D56 in Electric Blue. Thanks, it'll be a big help!”>

<12: 55 PM: Leave it to me!>

Placing your phone in your back pocket, you run to the storage cabinets and grab the exact colors listed in Constance’s text. You start opening the boxes, Blair staring at you as you work. You try your best to coax her, “So, what do you want to do when you grow up?”

Blair grins at you, gaps in her teeth, “I want to be like you!”

Laughing, you pat her on her head, “The film industry is an amazing place, makeup is a beautiful part of it.”

You also grab bowls in order to mix the dye in, realizing you forgot to grab brushes and spatulas to apply the dye on to the actresses. You smile at Blair, “Sweetheart, I have to go grab some things. You stay here alright?”

She nods, sucking on a lollipop that Constance gave her. By the time you make it back, you see Blair staring at her uncle from farther away, watching him as he directs the different departments. Constance and Terra make it back too, they help you to stir the dyes with the brushes you found. Eventually, you hand it off to the team of hairstylists. Within an hour or so, you hear a woman shriek as if she has seen a monster, followed by an angry Mr. Stevens. He shouts, “Makeup department! Get here now!”

Constance and Terra eye you confusedly, taking Blair’s hand in yours as you lead her towards the hair department. In view, you spot Mr. Stevens as red as a tomato, Jeno standing behind him with a frown on his face. The actress is practically in tears when her hair looks like a sloppy accident- her head covered in brown and blue spots. Mr. Steven’s voice makes you jolt, “Who is responsible for this?!”

Constance runs to his side, pleading forgiveness before Mr. Stevens holds a hand at her, “You and Terra were busy reporting to costumes. I’m asking who mixed the dye!”

Terra stares down at the ground, Constance says nothing. You already feel sweat dripping down your back, your hands feel clammy. Quietly, you whisper, “I did sir. It was me.”

Mr. Stevens breezes past Constance and Terra directly to you, “Who even are you?”

Constance is still pleading, “Forgive me Mr. Stevens, I was the one who asked y/n to do it. It’s not her fault.”

“But it is. If she can’t even mix hair dye correctly then how can she be your assistant? I should fire you right now.”

You cast your eyes down to the floor, tears welling up in your eyes as it blurs your vision. Suddenly, you hear the seriousness in Jeno’s voice. He tightens his jaw, “Sir, y/n didn’t do it.”

He glares back at Jeno, “If not her, then who?”

Jeno points at Blair, “When we were talking with production, I saw her mixing them together while y/n was grabbing supplies. It was out of her control.”

Visibly, it looks like Mr. Stevens will explode. He growls at Jeno, “Are you going to accuse my niece now? A little kid?”

Your voice cracks more than you expect, “No. I take full responsibility. It’s my fault and I accept it.”

Letting go of Blair’s hand, she gives you a sad frown, clutching onto your sweater, “Don’t go-”

“Y/n. You’re off the cosmetics team. You’re fired.”

Like that, you feel the pain of the silence. You feel the sinking of your heart. You hadn’t just gotten there and you failed. What would everyone back home think? The tears start to fall, your cheeks wet, “I will go collect my things.”

You hear Terra calling after you but you wave her off. Once you’re done collecting your things, you burst out the door and into the hot Los Angeles heat- the roads empty of any cars. The dryness you feel in your throat doesn't help when you’re still sobbing- you decide to take the bus home. The bus driver pays no mind to your tears, her eyes focused on the long road ahead. Plopping into the front seat in defeat, you receive notifications from Terra and Jeno but you don’t look at any of them. When you manage to make it home, all you can do is throw your box aside- some of the objects breaking from the impact. When you were told it was hard, you didn’t know that it would be this difficult. You felt like a failure, your dreams of working as a makeup artist withering. After a few hours of moping and crying into your pillow, you think it’s only common courtesy to respond back to Terra at the least.

<4:00 PM (Terra): Y/n? Are you okay? Can we talk?>

Dialing her number, Terra answers it almost immediately, “Y/n?”

Your voice sounds hoarse, “Yes?”

“How are you doing?”

Sighing, you roll onto your side, “Not the greatest but I’m alive.”

Her voice sounds deeply concerned, “Listen, I know I can’t do much to  help but I care about you as a friend and co-worker. How about we go out today?”

Your reply becomes more snarky by the minute, “Listen, Terra- I appreciate the sincerity but I don’t feel like going out right now.”

“Come on, y/n. You have nothing to lose. If anything, at least you won’t have to be yelled at by our boss anymore. Just one night.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Text me at 7!”

With a click, Terra hangs up on her end- leaving you with the silence of your room. You sigh, throwing a hefty punch to your pillow out of frustration. Did you want to go? Fuck it. At this point, there wasn’t holding you back. It’s not like you had to go to work the next morning. 

7PM.

“Yes! Y/n, we’re gonna have the best night of our lives! Let’s get drunk!”

Terra’s voice explodes through your phone speaker, you wince in pain when you feel your eardrum throb. 

“We’ll see, Terra. Just two hours alright? The least I can do is have a good night’s sleep.”

“Deal!”

Within 15 minutes, you see Terra drive up to your driveway, boxy black shades sitting on the bridge of her nose. She’s sitting in a cherry red convertible, her smile brightening, “Get in loser! We’re going shopping!”

Perhaps, you could allow yourself to have a little fun. Though you had just been fired that day, you couldn’t fight the growing smile that graced your lips. You stuck your arms out above you, belting words as Terra yells along with you. The feeling is like being in a coming-of-age film where you’re zooming through rodeo drive to the highway that stretches over the ocean blue, salty air drifting under your nose. Terra cranks up her radio, some Beatles song that you don’t know, Terra belting out the lyrics while you shut your eyes in content- the sun dipping into the horizon. Flowery bushes line the side of the road, the people on the beach look like small ants in the distance. Suddenly, Terra turns down her stereo, “Hey- I hope you don’t mind but I asked Jeno to hang with us. He felt really bad about earlier and I just think he needs to get out more!” 

You widen her eyes at her, “You asked Jeno?”

Terra gives you a suggestive smile, her lips smeared with red lipstick, “Technically, this was Jeno’s idea to take you out!”

Nodding, you whisper, “Jeno did?”

Before you know it, Terra pulls up to a modern-looking apartment after passing the Hollywood walk of fame, goldcast stars lining the road. In an instant, Jeno whisks through the lobby doors and you felt as if your breath had been knocked out of your lungs. He cards his fingers through his mahogany hair, his body fit with black, ripped jeans and a tangerine-colored bomber jacket. His fingers are clad with silver bands, his eyelashes accenting his coffee irises. He smiles at you first, “Glad you could make it y/n.”

You nod, “Right, thanks Jeno. Thanks Terra.”

Terra giggles, “Don’t thank me! Now, I am famished so let’s get some grub.”

You ask her, “Where are we eating?”

Terra jabs you in the shoulder, “Just you wait, I know just the place.”

By the time you reach the so-called place, you now understand why you wanted to be in California so much. Terra expertly maneuvers her convertible up a series of hilled roads, parking on a ledge that overlooks the ocean. Jeno laughs, “This place never gets old.”

You watch him gaze out into the depths below, his hands resting on the railing. The sun casts rays of golden honey onto his hard features, his hair lighter from the effect. Terra yells at you both, “Hurry up guys!”

You’re amazed at Terra’s choice of an establishment. It’s a retro diner that overlooks the ocean, a large neon sign reading: “Jubilee’s Diner.” When you walk into the space, the checkerboard tile extends to the bar area as customers sip on milkshakes piled with whipped cream. The booths are lined with leather that matches the shade of Terra’s car, waitresses zoom past you on rollerskates. One woman approaches you three as she breaks into a smile, picking up 3 menus, “Terra, my girl!”

Terra laughs, motioning us to follow the woman into a booth that sits by a large glass window. Terra scoots in, the skin of your thigh rubbing against the leather seat as Jeno sits across from you both. The woman hands Terra a menu, “I’m guessing you’re looking for Cheyenne?”

Suddenly, Terra’s whole presence lights up, her head bobbing up and down, “Is she in tonight?”

“She is.”

Terra looks at you, “Hey, are you and Jeno okay with hanging out for a bit? If not, I’ll stay. Seriously, I don’t mean to ditch you guys or anything.”

“No, go. We don’t mind.”

You scoot out of the booth for Terra to get out, she practically skips all the way to the backroom in excitement. When you sit back down, you see Jeno chuckle. 

“Who’s Cheyenne?” you ask.

“Terra’s been flirting with Cheyenne since we started coming here. I think they’ll be a thing soon.”

You nod, “Ah, I see.”

After a few minutes, another waitress takes your order as you opt for a strawberry milkshake and Jeno ordering chocolate. For some reason, you had never felt anymore natural with anyone else than you had with Jeno. It felt like time was zipping by, Jeno getting brain freezes before laughing at your jokes. You’d throw a fry for Jeno to catch in his mouth, a moment you recorded on Jeno’s camcorder he brought with him. In turn, he’d film you as you tried to balance an onion ring on your face, your eyes crossing because of it. When you were done, you watched the sun set on the ocean- amarine yellows and watermelon pink clouds fading into a starry night sky. Of course, Jeno recorded that too- zooming on your face even though you protested. You’d swipe ketchup on his nose, Jeno pouted at you playfully. Looking back into the kitchen, you caught Terra and Cheyanne standing in the doorway as they laughed into each other, flirtatious whispers being exchanged. Jeno turns to you, “Do you want to get out of here?”

Nodding, you smile at him, “Best not to disturb them.”

You follow Jeno outside the diner, a cool breezing hitting your face. Jeno looks at you, “Do you mind if I show you something?”

“Of course.”

Like that, you start to climb up the hill that goes beyond where the diner is, cars full of teenagers zooming past you in Jeno. He tells you about his dreams and why he believes that Hollywood is his destiny. He tells you about his family too, how his father was a filmmaker and had bought him a hand-held camera for his birthday when he was a child. You dance along the road, socking your fist into Jeno’s playfully as you tell him about your rambunctious family back home and how you discovered the dream of being a makeup artist for cinema. When you reach the top,  you realize that the Hollywood sign sits on the other side of the hill as the city lights glow in a golden ocean below you. Jeno grabs your hand to help you slide down, your shoes covered in dirt. Finding your balance, you and Jeno sit in front of the letter ‘L’ beside each other. 

“Now this is a view.”

You take it all in, seeing how the lights don’t even end. You feel like you’re on top of the world. 

Jeno smiles at the sight, “This is where I come when I can’t think.”

Jostling him in the shoulder, you laugh, “How many girls have you taken up here?”

You feel Jeno tense, his eyes narrowing, “None actually. You’re the first.”

“Huh.”

Both of you sit in silence, Jeno playing with the rings on his fingers. You can’t think of anything to say. Finally, you jolt at the sound of your phone pinging. Pulling up your messages, you see you’ve received a text from Mr. Stevens. 

It reads: “Hello y/n. Firstly, I’d like to sincerely apologize. It was unprofessional and not good of me to lash out at you this morning as Blair made it clear she was the one who was playing with the dyes. I was the one who asked you to take care of her, it is not in your control. I should have taught her better. I hope you can forgive me if you’d like to come to Sun Studios tomorrow morning and start fresh? I am deeply sorry, no hard feelings. Have a great evening.”

You practically feel your heart drop at the sight, you almost lose grip of your phone. 

“What is it??”

Immediately, your hand flies to your mouth, “Mr. Stevens just gave me my job back! He finally admitted I wasn’t in the wrong!”

Jeno’s eyes are wide before he breaks into a smile, his hands coming up to the side of your arms, “Holy- That’s amazing y/n! But, I knew that already.”

You eye him with confusion, “How’d you know?”

“Because I was the one who proved your innocence. I got Blair to confess.”

Tackling Jeno to the ground, you bury your face into Jeno’s chest, his back flat to the sandy dirt underneath you both. 

“Thank you Jeno! Thank you!”

When you pull yourself off Jeno, he holds you down with his hands, your legs in between his own. You see his dark eyes flick to your lips. You want him to, you really do. Your skin tingles when Jeno molds his hand to your neck, you see a flash of hesitation. The feeling is gone when Jeno removes his hand from your skin, placing it on the ground, “We should go check on Terra. We have work tomorrow.”

You sit back, kneeling in front of him. You’re sure your jaw is wide open, confusion scribbled on your face, “What?”

Jeno places his face in his hands, “Oh, god.”

You can’t control the irritation that erupts from inside of you, “Is this some game to you? You flirt with me all night and then you make me look so eager? Am I fool to you?”

Jeno’s eyes contort with concern, his head shaking, “No, No- that’s not what I meant-”

Getting up from the ground, you begin to climb back over the hill, “No Jeno, save it.”

“Y/n, wait-”

Your anger consumes you. You raise your voice, “Do you know what Terra told me when I first got to Sun Studios?”

Jeno rubs his neck, his brows furrowing, “What did she say?”

You scoff, “She told me that you’re a heartbreaker. Girls flirt with you and then you tell them that you don’t want anything serious so you can achieve your dream.”

You continue, “If that’s so, why did you try to lead me on? I thought we had a chance- I thought I liked you. No, this is a whole joke.”

Jeno visibly sinks behind you, his shoulder slumping with defeat. The whole time you climb back up the hill, you two don’t say a word- Jeno is careful to trail behind you instead of beside you. The car ride back to your place is the same way, Terra droning on about how much she likes Cheyenne--unaware of the tension between you and Jeno. Collapsing on your bed, you replay the dark vision of Jeno watching you and Terra drive away, his eyes longing. 

5 days later

Your way of coping is burying yourself under work and errands from the departments. Eventually, Terra had caught wind of the situation in which you explained to her, the reason why you hadn’t spoken to Jeno in 5 days. Terra’s mouth forms an ‘o’, patting you on the back in effort to comfort you.

“I’m sorry y/n. I don’t think Jeno means harm, that’s just the way he is. He’s a boy who doesn’t know what he wants. Still, he’s been asking me about you.”

“Well, he shouldn’t ask. He shouldn’t use people until he knows what he wants.”

Going home that night, you felt tears stream down your face in frustration. Your pillow feels too hot, your clothes feel sticky on your body, and you feel exhausted from work. You lie on your bed in silence, lazily staring out your bedroom window. You’re thankful that you fall asleep quite quickly, you’d rather not think about Jeno anymore. That’s when you hear a knock on your window at around 2 am, your head still dizzy from sleep. What creep would be knocking on your window? You sit up, only to be met with Jeno’s face pressed up the glass, “Please let me in.”

You jolt, “What the hell Jeno? It’s like 2 am?”

“I’m sorry, I know. I’ll explain.”

Resting your hand on your hip, you motion Jeno to walk into your doorway, leading him to your bedroom. 

“Can I sit?”

You scoff, “Well, now that you’re here.”

Sighing, Jeno rubs his eyes tirelessly before speaking, “I just want you to watch something first.”

You eye him skeptically, “What if I say no?”

Jeno pouts at you, his hair messy and his eyes sad, “Please. I didn’t get heavy eye-bags for this.”

You can’t help but smile. He hands you a USB drive from his pocket, his eyes flickering with reluctance. Grabbing your laptop from your desk, you shove the drive into the port, a video swishing into view. Plopping down next to Jeno, you watch it together. Jeno had edited a video sequence of you working at Sun Studios and the times where you joked around next to him, cuts of him and Terra laughing. The video was sentimental like it had a vintage-y feel, grain filters coating the images. It reminded you of why you came to Hollywood specifically.

“Jeno, it’s beautiful.”

You turn to look at the boy who sits next to you, his hair shades his eyes a bit, “You really think so?”

“Of course it was. It’s extremely well made. From all the sunset shots to the studio, and all of it seems.. magical?”

“I’m glad you approve because this is what I’ll be entering in Mr. Stevens’s film festival contest.”

“Wait- you what?”

Jeno smiles at you until his eyes form crescent moons, “You heard me. This is the piece I’m entering.”

“But why?”

You feel Jeno’s hand creep over yours, “Do you know what the assignment was?”

Shaking your head, you wait for him to answer you. “Mr. Stevens asked all the contestants to make a film about someone that would make them see a new perspective. Someone that they like.”

Your heart beats out of your chest at Jeno’s words. You’re sure your knees have turned into jello- did Jeno just admit that he likes you?

“Jeno, I don’t know if you-”

“Y/n. Here me out okay? When I first met you, I saw how passionate you were. I saw how you helped Terra and the makeup team tirelessly without rest and I got scared. I thought that liking someone meant I had to give up my focus on my dream. I was wrong.”

You don’t say anything. Jeno leans closer to you, his breath hitting your face, “I was wrong. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Leaning your forehead on his, you close your eyes. “Are you sure you want this?”

You hear Jeno hum in affirmation, “I’ll support you and you me, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jeno smashes his lips onto yours, his tongue coming in too quick before you can register. Pulling away, you eye him before pushing up against him, his lips molded securely onto yours. He tastes like watermelon popsicles, his lips are stained with pink. Smiling into the kiss you ask, “Did you eat something watermelon flavored?”

“Do you like it?”

You close your eyes, molding your lips on to Jeno’s lips once again, his calloused hands holding both sides of your face. When you both catch your breath, you whisper at Jeno, “You better win this film festival, especially since I’m the star.”

He laughs at you, bubble erupting from his throat, “I’ll try my best for you. Still, you haven’t answered my question.”

Slapping him in the shoulder, you smirk at Jeno, “What do you think my answer is?”

“You like me too?”

“Let’s take our time, lover boy.”

Jeno shouts at you when you get up to grab a snack from your kitchen, his figure following you like a lost puppy, “Y/n, come on! Give me another kiss!” 

You were pleased to tell your parents that you were enjoying Hollywood, not only because of your job, but because of a certain boy named Jeno Lee- the vision of his gaze on the ocean engraved in your mind forever. 

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

sour undertones - klaine oneshot

AN: this work is based off of a piece of fanart by animateglee

words: 1723

summary: Kurt finds Blaine’s diary and is surprised at what he finds there. Blaine thought it was good at the time, I mean, he got an A in creative writing from Miss Eavesbridge once! (quarantine fic)

The days have been long for the both of them, and it’s not like he was snooping, really, he wasn’t. He was bored. 

Ever since the lockdown had started in New York, Kurt felt like he was going to go mad. His apartment with Blaine was only small (despite their success and newfound fame, prices to live in the city were still ridiculously high) and there was only so much they could do in such a tiny space. After multiple different jigsaw puzzles and games of monopoly and other miscellaneous things that didn’t involve sitting around and scrolling through Instagram, he was starting to go a little bit crazy.

It was also hard for them - they were different types of people; Kurt was an extrovert… and well, Blaine… not so much. For Blaine, it was much easier; he would happily sit around at home all day keeping himself busy doing nothing much at all. 

But Kurt, he thrived on socialisation, on meeting new people, new faces and interesting personalities. He was growing tired. So he wasn’t surprised when he found himself searching through the shelves and bits of storage in their tiny home, not really knowing what he was looking for. 

He found lots of old things knocking around in their draws - a photo album of their first year together as a couple, and smiled as he looked through the miscellaneous memories that had been captured and saved, something to hold onto for all their lives. The receipt from their one of their many dates, a recipe book Kurt had given to Blaine one year for his birthday in their old loft in Bushwick, and Kurt was a little offended to find it hidden away in a random draw next to their bed, but then he decided to search some more. 

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t seen it before, but it was a beautiful thing, a notebook with a leather covering and writing on the front, stuck on with different clippings of letters from headlines of newspapers, and Kurt laughed to himself as it reminded him of The Burn Book from Mean Girls. A guilty pleasure of his, if he was being honest. 

However, this expression changed as he opened the notebook. He saw on the very first page, ‘property of Blaine Devon Anderson’ scribbled messily onto the parchment. Around it was lots of different doodles and hearts and other little drawings that made Kurt smile. Then he turned the page, realising what he was actually looking at. 

15th March 2011

Dear Diary, 

Kurt’s eyes widened as he recognised the date. That date was special to them. He recognised it, even more so, when he read the words ‘I kissed Kurt today!’ in big, capital letters, confirming why it was so special to them. That was when he burst out laughing, deciding to read on. Half of him felt bad for reading through his husband’s diary from nine years ago, but dammit - they were husbands! It was healthy to have some secrets in a relationship, he thought. Reading again, a big smile lit up his face.

I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am right now. I’ve been so oblivious all this time, and only now I’ve realised how much I appreciate him. I can’t believe that this might turn into a real thing soon! And hopefully, his feelings are the same. I mean, they would be, wouldn’t they? He did kiss me back. Twice. Anyway, I think I love him. He’s beautiful, and his eyes are so blue… 

Kurt was aware that his face was probably lit up like a Christmas tree, but he didn’t care. His now-husband had written about him in his diary on the day of their first kiss. He was allowed to be happy. 

“Kurt?” 

It was only then that Kurt closed the notebook abruptly, jumping up from where he was sat on the floor against the bed, dumping it on the floor and turning to face Blaine, who had now walked into the room. 

“What are you doing?” 

Oh god. Kurt looked suspicious. He was fully aware of that. He was trying to wipe his sweaty palms on his trousers (even if they weren’t allowed outside, didn’t mean his fashion game was going to falter) and his eyebrows were raised up far too high as he tried to keep a sense of nonchalance about his aura but failing. 

“Nothing, sweetheart.” He smiled. The tension in the room was suffocating. He shouldn’t have been nervous, really, he shouldn’t have, but Blaine was standing there looking very worried and curious and Kurt wasn’t ready for whatever would happen next. 

Blaine frowned, moving closer to Kurt. 

“You’re acting weird. What’s going—” 

He paused as he realised the notebook on the floor. He looked at it, sitting there, then back at his husband, whose eyes were now comically wide, and they stared at each other incredulously. 

“Kurt, I swear to fucking god—” 

Kurt broke the tension by letting out a giggle, deciding teasing was the best way to go about this situation. He bent down and picked up the notebook from the floor, and continued to read the page he’d been reading, but out loud to Blaine this time. 

“So, my soft but scratchy lips tasted exquisite… the sweet flavour of starburst fruit gums but also the sour undertones of orange juice, along with the sweet promise of love?” He burst out laughing. Blaine scrambled towards him, trying to snatch his old diary out of Kurt’s hands. 

“Kurt! Give that back!”

“Why… are you talking… about our first kiss… like it’s a fucking Michelin star meal?”  Kurt marvelled, between fits of laughter. Blaine was trying to grab the notebook but Kurt made sure to keep a hand on his chest, preventing him from stealing it back.  

“Kurt… please! I was excited!” Blaine shouted, exasperated. 

That only made Kurt laugh harder, running away from Blaine who was now getting closer to stealing the diary back, so he jumped up on the bed.

“No! I have a right!” He screamed, jumping down from the bed and now running around the apartment, trying to find another excruciatingly cringe-worthy piece of writing to read out to his very embarrassed husband. 

“When we pulled back, I stared into his piercing blue orbs… what the fuck are orbs?” He joked, collapsing onto their couch, reading some more, “and I was so dazed, the only thing going on in my mind was Kurt, Kurt, Kurt, then he said, in the softest, most beguiling voice—” he broke off his reading again, trying to understand Blaine’s writing, “sorry… Blaine? Why are you using such descriptive words? This sounds like a fucking fanfiction!” He laughed, then continuing, “he said we should practice,” he raised his eyebrows as he noticed Blaine was watching him at the end of the couch with an exaggerated pout on his face. 

You’re so mean,” Blaine whined, he fucking whined, and that was when Kurt started to feel bad. 

  “Honey, I’m sorry,” He apologized, “but you’ve gotta admit, it is pretty funny.”  

  “You’re making fun of my sixteen-year-old self’s writing skills,” Blaine said, the pout on his face still prominent, “Miss Eavesbridge gave me an A for creative writing in English at Dalton once!” He said, referencing their Eleventh Grade English teacher.

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry for making fun of your creative writing skills,” Kurt laughed, affectionately, pulling Blaine onto the couch from where he was sitting, untangling his folded arms. “Although I don’t think this would be creative writing since it actually happened.” He cross-examined, stroking his hands through his husband’s hair. He was so grateful that Blaine had loosened up on the gel now, moving away from the brick-like hair he had five years ago. He loved stroking Blaine’s hair.

Blaine groaned in annoyance at Kurt’s display of his pedantic trait but obviously appreciated the attention, nestling his head into Kurt’s neck, wrapping his arms around his husband. 

“You’ve embarrassed me.” 

“That’s what marriage is for!” 

"Rude.”

“You’re cute.” 

Blaine looked up at Kurt then, lifting his torso so he was fully on top of his husband, holding himself up by his hands. “I can’t believe you found my old diary. Although I am sorry that I described our first kiss like a Michelin star meal. It’s just— it was special, you know? And I wanted to remember every bit of it.” 

Kurt’s face was glowing. He was so in love with Blaine, every day his love grew stronger. As he looked into his hazel (Kurt laughed to himself as he thought of the word orbs) eyes, he wondered how he had become so lucky. 

“It was special. Do you want to recreate it?” He replied.

Blaine hummed appreciatively, “mmm. Sounds like a good idea,” and leaned in for a kiss. They stayed like that for a while, breathing each other in, Kurt’s hand cupping Blaine’s cheek, eyes closed. 

When they broke apart, they stared at each other for a while, when Kurt mumbled, obviously quite dazed, “Any sour undertones of orange there?”

Blaine groaned, dropping his head back down onto Kurt’s shoulder, “That honestly sounds so fucking disgusting. I can’t believe I ever wrote that.” 

“Well, actually, you said you wanted to remember every moment of our first kiss, but you actually got a bit of it wrong in your writing.” Kurt acknowledged, picking up Blaine’s old diary again, “you see, here you wrote that I said we should practice, but I actually remember quite clearly that you said that.”

Blaine frowned at this, grabbing the diary out of Kurt’s hands, reading out loud where he had written that. 

“he said, in the softest, most beguiling voice, we should practice. Huh. I did get that wrong. Guess my mind was so dazed all I could think about was Kurt, Kurt, Kurt.” Blaine said, quoting his diary entry. 

Kurt burst out laughing at that, wrapping his arms around Blaine’s neck, pulling him in for a short kiss once again. “You’re such a dork.” 

“But you love me anyway.” Blaine smiled.

“Of course I do. And I know you love me too.” Kurt replied, pressing their lips together again. He loved his beautiful, ‘I-got-an-A-in-creative-writing’, beguiling husband. And he wasn’t going to see the end of this story in a very, very long time.

AO3 link

[winchest09]

Fire and Ice

Title: Fire and Ice

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3741

Summary: It’s moving day for you and your fiance, Sam. It’s also the hottest day of the year and you need a break from unpacking...

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Smut, ice cube play, male oral, female oral, p in the v, naked Sams, sweaty hot summers day stuff...

A/N: This is a rewrite of a very old oneshot i did which needed some more love. It deserves more words, more hotness and more...well Sam. I hope you enjoy! 

A/N 2: Thank you to my beaut of a friend, @deanwanddamons​​​ who gave this a once over for me. Love you dearly.

Main Masterlist

Let me know what you think!

The sun was beating down in Kansas, the heatwave that had taken it’s hold on the city peaking in it’s mid 90’s and Y/N was just about done with it already. She sat on the edge of the opening in the back of the moving truck, her hand coming to swipe the sweat off her brow as she looked to her right, her brand new home in her sight. Today was the day she moved into her brand new home with her fiance and moving day just had to land on the hottest day of the year so far. She could have put it off and waited till the heatwave was over, but Y/N didn’t think she could last another day in her tiny apartment with her giant fiance.

So here she was, her face makeup free, her hair plaited in split french braids to keep it free from her face as she reached for the drink bottle next to her. Her body was dressed in a bikini top and high waisted shorts; it wasn’t the most suitable moving attire but she’d be damned if she would wear anything more. She couldn’t wait to shut her front door and strip. Y/N would be quite happy to walk around in her birthday suit if it meant keeping her cool. As she took a generous mouthful of water, she watched as her fiance walked back over to her to pick up the remainder of their boxes to move into their new home.

He stopped between her legs, his large hands resting against her thighs as his thumbs rubbed softly against her skin. He nuzzled his nose against her neck, pressing a soft kiss just under her jawline, before he smiled lovingly down at her. It was then that Y/N offered him her water, her eyes roaming to his bare chest before catching his gaze.

“Sammy, remind me why we chose today to do this?” she all but moaned, a playful frown on her lips as she watched him take a large swig of water.

“Because you’re a glutton for punishment,” he told her, smiling at her lovingly, “and you’re also ridiculously impatient.”

“Am not,” she mumbled, looking down at where his sweats hung low on his hips.

She missed the smile Sam gave her. “But it’s making you happy, knowing we’ve got our own place now,” he told her softly, his finger hooking under her chin to tilt her gaze back at him, “and I’d do anything to make you smile.”

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek as she felt herself blush. “Just grab that last big box, smooth talker,” she retorted, placing a quick peck on his lips as she slid herself off the back of the van, picking up the smaller box that was remaining and heading over to their new home.

She walked up her garden path, appreciating the small yard and the few rose bushes she had that lined the cobblestone walkway. It was everything she had ever looked for in a home. Spacious on the inside, cosy and inviting from the outside as well as  being situated in a quiet neighbourhood. It was perfect.

Walking through the front door, she made her way into the kitchen and placed her box on the island in the middle. She wiped her palms down her shorts before resting her hands on her hips, looking around the room and making a mental plan of what to work on first. She thought she’d start with putting away the plates and cutlery, breaking down the biggest boxes to make more room to organise the counter tops.

After an hour of unpacking, Y/N moved to stand under the vent in the kitchen, grateful their new home had air conditioning installed. She allowed the cooling breeze to wash over her as she focused on the array of things she still needed to put away. It felt like it was never ending, but she knew it would be worth it in the end. She was excited over the little things; being able to make Sam breakfast in the morning in their own kitchen, hearing the keys jingle in the lock when he got home from work after a long day, snuggling up on the couch and falling asleep. It’s what was making all of the sweaty work worthwhile.

“Y/N, baby?” She heard Sam shout, his deep voice carrying down through the hallway. “Can I borrow you for a second?”

“Sure.” She took a deep breath and pushed herself off the wall, turning the corner out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

As she approached the varnished wooden stairs, she smiled as she saw the attic ladders resting on the landing, her fiance half way up them. She didn’t mind the view, the bottom of his torso and the delectable trail of hair leading into his pants in her sights. It made Y/N bite her lip, the idea to pull his sweats down his legs and take advantage in the forefront of her mind. However, she resisted as she rested her hands on the metal of the ladder, looking up to see Sam smiling down at her.

“You alright up there?” she asked, a little playful smirk resting on her lips.

“Could you hand me that next box, babe?” he asked, his voice low and his breathing deep from the heavy lifting he’d been doing.

“You do realise my muscles are nowhere near as big as yours, right?” Y/N laughed as she turned around to see the last few boxes that were meant for storage.

Those remaining were extremely heavy and Sam, well he definitely had the physique for dealing with them. Y/N however, did not, although she would give it her best shot. She bent with her knees and huffed as she tried her hardest to lift the box up to Sam, his long fingers wrapping around the sides of the box and taking it from her with ease. They continued with the routine a few more times until there were no more containers left, and Y/N had to shake out her arms as they ached from the weight.

She watched as Sam smiled down at her, his brown hair covering his eyes slightly, some stuck to his neck with the heat as he started to descend the metal ladder. She couldn’t help but appreciate her man, the way his toned bare chest was glistening and his biceps flexed as he pushed the retractable stairs away. Y/N’s eyes followed the few beads of sweat that travelled down between his six pack to the little nestle of hair that rested just above the grey sweatpants he was wearing, causing an audible moan to pass her lips.

It was then that Sam looked at her with raised eyebrows. It was nothing new, it was actually quite common for her to make noises or comment on his body whenever he’d walk around topless, sometimes she’d run her hand over his chest just to feel how his muscles would tense under her touch. Today was no different.

“Like what you see, Y/N?” Sam smirked, knowing her all too well as he stalked towards her, noticing her stare.  

“Maybe.” She shrugged, releasing her plump bottom lip from between her teeth before flashing back a smile of her own.

Y/N walked back down the stairs before her fiance could reach her, heading straight back into the kitchen to finish off the job she started earlier. She was determined to have the kitchen sorted before the end of the day, so they could at least eat dinner in a tidy room. Even if it was just ordered takeout from somewhere close by, she wanted their first meal in the home to be perfect. The thought alone spurred her on to work faster.Having already  arranged all of the utensils on the side before she got to her last box of glassware to put away.she had left one cupboard empty just for the wine and beer glasses but she was struggling to reach the top shelf, her shorter stature not going in her favor.

Y/N rose to her tiptoes, her body stretching as she attempted to put things away. It was then that she felt her bikini slip slightly, revealing the underside of her breast to the man who was currently leaning against the doorway watching her. She hadn’t heard him sneak down the stairs nor had she noticed that he’d been leaning against the doorframe watching her for the past few minutes. It was only when she huffed and lowered her head in frustration, did she see Sam in her peripheral vision, running his tongue over his bottom lip.  

“Like what you see, Sam?” she teased, copying his earlier statement as she grinned his way. Her fiance just chuckled, pushing himself off of the door frame before walking towards her.

“You have no idea,” he growled, his eyes darkening as he made his way over to her in a few strides, his large hands laying flat on the countertop either side of her.

Y/N felt the heat of his bare chest against her back as his chin dipped to the curvature of her neck, his stubble slightly grazing her skin as he ghosted kisses along her shoulder. She couldn’t help but to lean back into his touch, her head lolling to the side to allow him more access, pleasurable sighs seeping from her lips as she focused on the feeling Sam was giving her. His fingers came to cage around her hips, leaving small indents that made Y/N feel incredibly desirable. It was then that he span her in his grasp, leaning into her that little bit more to close what remaining space there was between them.

Her hands automatically started to slide up his abdomen, feeling his muscles tense under her touch as she looked up at him from under her lashes. His lips millimeters from hers, she felt her heart beat hard against her chest. They’d been together for years and yet she still felt this wave of overwhelming desire hit her every time he was this close. Y/N allowed her hands to snake around his back, her fingernails digging into his skin as she raked them up and down his shoulder blades. Sam let out a low growl at the sensation, his fingers pressing harder into her hips as she smirked.

His hands came up to ghost over her sides, his featherlight touch causing shivers to take hold of her body before he cupped Y/N’s face, his lips dancing over hers in a teasing manner as he rolled his hips against her body. She felt his excitement through his sweats, his large hard dick nudging against her lower stomach and she couldn’t help the strangled gasp that escaped her.

That was all it took for Sam to capture her mouth in a kiss, his tongue dragging across her plump bottom lip, begging for entry as he pressed his body hard against hers. Y/N let out a whimper before allowing his tongue to snake into her mouth, her hands now coming to weave into his hair as she held him close. Fuck, she needed him.

Y/N couldn’t help but roll her hips against his, looking for any kind of friction to ease the ache that was growing between her legs, her want for her fiance taking over like a primal need as she rubbed herself against him. She lowered one hand from his head, sliding it slowly down his abdomen until she found his erection and began to palm it through his sweats. The movement caused Sam to hiss slightly, a low groan vibrating through his chest as he broke the kiss. He looked down at her with lust blown eyes before he tugged at her bikini top, pulling the knot apart and tearing it from her body, throwing it over his shoulder to the other side of the kitchen.

It was a move that made Y/N suck in her lower lip and before Sam could blink, she had slowly started to sink to her knees, her hands gliding down his chiseled body before she tugged at his sweats. She pushed them down his large, muscular thighs, moaning slightly when his cock sprung free, his perfect pink tip glistening in front of her.

She wasted no time. She reached forward and took his long, thick, length in her mouth, encouraging it all the way to the back of her throat causing a growl to sound above her. She felt how Sam’s hands threaded into her hair, encouraging it away from her face as Y/N began to bob her head back and forth, her tongue swirling around his tip. Her hands worked him at the base, her mouth doing the rest as she flattened her tongue and ran it up the underside of his dick before bringing her lips to suck at his head. The low grumble that resonated through his chest was all the encouragement she needed to continue. So, she relaxed her throat and took all of him as best as she could, resting her nose in the tuft of hair at his base.

“Fuck, Y/N!” Sam exclaimed, a low moan spilling from his lips before he withdrew his wet cock from your velvet tongue. “Baby, you’re gonna make me cum in that pretty mouth if you don’t stop.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” came Y/N’s reply, a coy smile on her lips as she looked up at him from her knelt position.

The look in his eye told her everything she needed to know and Y/N couldn’t help but squeeze her thighs together as his eyes darkened. Sam reached down for her, pulling her fastly into a standing position before wasting no time in pressing his sweaty chest against her heaving breasts, kicking off his sweats as he held her close. Her nipples were hard from the friction his body was providing as he placed his large hands under her thighs, lifting her with little ease before spinning and sitting her down on the kitchen island. His lips connected with her neck once more, trailing kisses down her body as his large palm gently pushed down her chest to lay flat on the counter. The coolness of the marbled top against her back caused a short sharp breath to bleed from her lips, but it was a sensation that was welcomed.

Sam noticed her reaction to the cold surface and a seductive smile creeped onto his lips. He saw the cooler resting next to his feet, the cooler that he had packed for provisions to help with the move in. Water, food, ice. He quickly opened the box, and grabbed for a free singular cube.

“Close your eyes,” he spoke low, his voice gruff with desire as he tried to contain himself.

Y/N didn’t need to be told twice, she trusted her fiance implicitly so she obeyed him, shutting off one of her senses as she waited with baited breath for his next move. All she could hear was Sam’s deep breathing, her spatial awareness alerted her to where she thought he could be. Yet, she didn’t expect his next move.

He brought an ice cube to her neck, the block of water already beginning to melt in his hand as he traced the edge of her jaw. He allowed it to glide over her hot skin, leaving wet trails in its wake. He gilded it over her lips, withdrawing it just as Y/N was about to take it in. He smirked at the sounds she was making, the small pants leaving her lips as he brought the ice cube lower. He pinched it with his forefinger and thumb, hovering it over one of her nipples, allowing beads of cool water to drip over her skin, each one causing her to gasp in delight. After an agonising minute, Sam placed the ice cube over her bud, holding it in place as his mouth came to place hot kisses on the opposite breast.

Y/N let out a pleasurable groan, the feeling of hot and cold was euphoric. Sam didn’t stop there, he continued to attack her body with kisses whilst he swirled the cube down around her chest, tracing a slow and sensual bath down between the valley of her breasts through to her navel. A path he followed with his warm tongue. He was killing her, in the best way possible, and he knew it.

He got to the edge of her shorts, using the ice cube to glide a route along the waistband as his free hand worked the button. In just a few seconds, he pulled them down her legs and left them in a heap on the floor. With one large palm, he spread her legs, pushing one of her thighs to the side to allow her glistening centre to come into view. It was a sight that made him groan audibly, his mouth watering as he thought about how she tasted.

The ice cube was still melting in his hand as he slid it over the insides of her legs, tracing the edges of her lips and groin as she whimpered beneath him. Y/N was already so wet for him, her arousal evident as he glided the cube through her folds, causing her to gasp audibly. He slowly circled her bud, allowing water droplets to fall like silk down her skin, pooling onto the counter beneath her. She looked delicious and Sam couldn't hold back anymore. He replaced the cube with his tongue, the warm sensation shooting through her like a bolt as she wrapped her legs around his head. Fuck, he was good.

He licked with his widened tongue from her entrance to her clit, his lips sucking, nipping and kissing at her centre as she went wild above him. Y/N gasped loudly, the feeling of his mouth hot against her skin was tantalizing and the more he continued to eat her like a man starved, the more wet she became.

“S-sam,” she stammered, feeling close to her end only to have Sam pull away, his chin wet with her excitement.

“You ready for me, baby?” Sam husked, pulling her to the edge of the counter to line himself up with her entrance, sliding it through her slick as he did so. Ice cube long forgotten as it lay between her legs, melting.

Y/N just mewled beneath him, her hands grasping at nothing as her legs hooked around the back of Sam’s waist.

“Fuck me, Sam,” she breathed, her teeth digging into her bottom lip in anticipation.

Y/N’s mouth opened in a silent, pleasurable scream as she felt him stretch her, the familiar burn feeling as amazing as she accommodated his size wonderfully. Once she’d taken him to the hilt, she clenched around him causing Sam to suck in a breath as he stilled his movements, yet she needed him to move. She needed him to fuck her across this kitchen island so she squirmed beneath him, rotating her hips in any way she could to generate any kind of friction.

Sam took the hint, one large hand coming down to hold onto her thigh as he pulled her other leg to hook around his neck. He started to thrust, hard and fast causing Y/N to squeal in delight at the feeling. Her toes were curling, her breasts were bouncing each time Sam’s hips snapped into hers, but she needed more, she needed him deeper. Y/N didn’t have to ask her fiance, he knew her body well enough by now and soon he was pulling her other leg over his shoulder, his hands pinned on her hips as he pulled her close against him. Fuck, yes.

Her orgasm was quickly approaching, the coil in her stomach close to snapping as Sam growled above her, his grip still hard on her body as he continued to thrust into her, good and hard. The sound of his balls slapping against her ass, her moans and his heavy breathing echoed around the tiled kitchen. Sam’s fingers left Y/N’s hips, trailing over to her mound as they located her clit. As she looked up at him, she saw how he was focusing on his dick sliding in and out of her. He covered his fingers in her slick before he started to work on her tiny bundle of nerves, an action that made her jolt against him, electricity coursing through her veins.

“Oh god, Sam,” Y/N gasped, attempting to throw her head back as she arched her spine.

“That’s it, baby,” Sam grunted, his fingers working her harder as he fucked her faster, “come for me, Y/N.”

With those little words of encouragement and the way he said her name, Y/N felt the explosion of ecstasy soar through her, her breathing rapid as she chased her delirium. She pulsed around him as she screamed his name over and over again. Sam’s thrusts started to falter, and she knew he was close. She continued to clench around him, milking his cock for all it’s worth as Sam spilled into her, a loud growl leaving his lips as his movements stilled.

Y/N smiled wildly, the feeling of euphoria flooding her veins was heavenly and she was pretty sure her skin was shining with that post orgasm glow. As Sam withdrew from her, she felt how his warmth left her, a happy reminder of how they had just christened their new kitchen. He offered her a dazzling smile as he reached for a towel that was close by, running it briefly under the nearby tap before coming back to clean her up, not wanting to leave her a sticky mess on such a hot day.

Sam then reached down for Y/N’s hands, gently pulling her up into a seating position, shuffling her body impossibly closer to his as he nuzzled his nose against hers. He dipped his head slightly, capturing her lips in a warm and delicate kiss as his palms splayed out across her back. With a grin, he kissed the corner of her mouth before allowing his mouth to tickle her ear.

“Happy moving day, baby.”

A/N: I hope you’ve enjoyed this little oneshot! Please let me know your thoughts by comment, reblog or just HERE! :) They mean the world! Also - my tag lists are open. Just let me know if you want to be added! Thanks for reading! xox

My Forever Babes:

@squirrel-moose-winchester​ / @snffbeebee​ / @cappsikle​ / @couldabeenamermaid​ / @spaghettiwoes​ / @lynne1993​ / @maddiepants​ / @alwaysdreamingforthebest​ / @31shadesofbrown​ / @mrswhozeewhatsis​ / @thefaithfulwriter​ / @spnbaby-67​ / @not-quite-dead​ / @blackcherrywhiskey​ / @helpmeluci​ / @myownsnowflake​ / @hobby27​ / @big-sad-energy​ / @coffee-obsessed-writer​ / @zoerayne2426​/ @ariasnyder​ / @phantom-soilder​ / @amandamdiehl​ / @geeksareunique​ / @keymology​ / @markofdean79​ / @flamencodiva​ / @jesseswartzwelder​ / @stoneyggirl​ / @cpag7​ / @heavensangel45135​ / @dapresidentsshoelaces​ / @donnaintx​ / @deanwinchesterficsx​ / @tranquility-or-chaos​ / @katehuntington​ / @miraclesoflove​ / @s-ravenall​ / @pisces-cutie​ / @chocolateheart​ / @deanwanddamons​ / @jayesdream​ / @idksupernatural​ / @talesmaniac89​ / @superfanficnatural​ / @parinarain​/ @daughterofthenight117​ / @emoryhemsworth​ / @waywardbeanie​ / @jensengirl83​ / @miss-nerd95​ / @malfoysqueen14​ / @whatareyousearchingfordean​ / @atc74​ / @akshi8278​ 

Sammy Senorita’s

*tumbleweeds* :’) 

[pinnithin-writes]

I Realized. Then I Couldn’t Stop Realizing.

Chapter 10: Pleck

Pleck’s heart was an aching hunk of lead in his chest, but this was alleviated somewhat by being crammed inside a storage closet with his best friend. His best friend who was a dehumidifier filled with sand. The absurdity of it was not lost on him.

Despite his best efforts, this droid would not quit on him. C-53 had stubbornly planted himself in a barely functional frame just to fit down the hallway and come talk to Pleck. His stomach had done a backflip when he saw him waiting outside his door.

Once C-53 had maneuvered his frame into the corner of his room, Pleck slid down beside him to squeeze himself between the droid and the wall. It was a tight fit and neither of them were comfortable. He kept the light off. It felt safer that way.

The dehumidifier hummed in a grainy sort of way beside him, and Pleck could feel the subtle vibration against his shoulder. “That doesn’t sound good,” he said.

“Yeah, well,” C-53 answered wryly. “It was kind of the only frame we had that would fit in here.”

Pleck flinched. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, getting shafted on bedroom options?” C-53 responded hotly. Then his voice lost its edge. “Sorry. I just… I miss you, okay?”

“I miss you, too,” Pleck said, softly, genuinely. He missed C-53 more than anything. Being away from him, after giving over so much of himself, felt like removing a limb.

“Then why are you hiding?” his friend asked. “Can we talk about it?”

Pleck tensed at the idea of divulging his impending doom to the droid beside him, but C-53 spoke up again before he could even begin to fabricate an excuse.

“Don’t think you can run away this time,” he said. “I’ll follow you all over Bargie and run into your knees. We’ll both hate it.”

Pleck chuckled halfheartedly at the threat. He kneaded the heel of his palm into his good eye and heaved a sigh.

“C-53, listen,” he began, “I’m… glad you came after me. Seriously, but,” he pressed his hand into his eye harder, watching starbursts of light pop behind his eyelid. “I really don’t wanna tell you about this.”

“Why?” C-53 asked. He sounded somewhat hurt, and it sent a pang through Pleck’s chest.

“Because-” he dropped his hand into his lap. “It’s – you’re gonna be mad.”

“I’m already mad.”

“I’m sorry,” Pleck repeated forlornly.

He pulled his legs up against his chest and crossed his arms over his knees. They were both silent. The lights on C-53’s control panel glowed softly in the darkness and Pleck found himself staring, transfixed, at their blinking pattern. He really was beautiful in every frame. Pleck wondered if the droid was aware of this, if it was something he even thought about.

Rodd, he missed him. His resolve was weak and his heart was hurting. C-53 had already taken every burden Pleck put on him without judgment, so he finally broke down and gave him one more.

“Derf told me that to defeat the Allwheat I need to go inside it,” he said. “And that I’ll probably die in the process.”

There. It was out. He buried his face in his arms.

A loud, mechanical grating sound came from within C-53’s frame. “Go inside it?” he echoed, vocal modulator climbing in volume.

“After I master the Stuff, yeah,” Pleck clarified, his response muffled by the fabric of his robe.

“After you – Pleck, are you serious?”

“I mean-”

“No,” the droid cut him off. Pleck could feel the surface of the dehumidifier heating up against his shoulder. “No, you can’t possibly think this is a good idea.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he answered, raising his head to shoot C-53 a defensive look. “I think it’s my only idea.”

“It’s not your only idea, it’s Derf’s only idea. There’s a big difference there.”

“Derf has never been wrong before!”

“Oh, I can think of a pretty long list of times Derf has been wrong.” There was acid in C-53’s voice. “What the juck is your problem? You think we’re just going to let you throw yourself into a black hole?”

“If it means saving the galaxy, yes!” Pleck shot back.

“No,” the droid repeated stubbornly. “Whether something like that saves the galaxy or not doesn’t matter. This isn’t all on you.”

“Yes, it is.” Pleck insisted.

“ Why ?”

“Because it’s my fault!” Pleck’s voice broke as the words ripped violently out of him. His throat locked and his eye welled up. This time, he didn’t bother holding back his tears. “It’s my fault,” he choked out quietly. “It’s my fault everything’s like this. It has to be me.”

C-53 made a deep, low hum that vibrated his whole frame. Pleck wasn’t sure what it meant. He was so warm where he sat next to him – he hoped the conversation wouldn’t make him overheat.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” Pleck said, tears still slipping down his cheek. “I know you put a lot of effort into helping me, but I have to do this. I don’t wanna waste your time anymore if I’m just gonna end up dying in a few months.”

When C-53 spoke, his voice was harsh with emotion. “Pleck, you idiot,” he ground out. “Did it ever occur to you that I spent all that time with you because I like you?”

Pleck blinked, momentarily derailed from his pity party. “Well, sure you do, you’re my best friend,” he said, a little lost.

“Not,” the droid sighed, “like that.” He sounded pained.

“Oh.” He was quiet for a moment. Then his brain caught up to his ears, and he was suddenly blindsided by shock. “Wait, really ?”

“Yeah, now he gets it.”

“You-” Pleck flushed from head to toe, feeling like Bargie was doing somersaults in space, tilting the floor beneath him. A giddy, bewildered laugh hiccupped out of him. All this time he’d spent pining for his best friend, and he actually returned his feelings? It sounded impossible, like the droid had taken a daydream out of Pleck’s head and made it real. “You really – I – Me ?”

“Yes, you.” Fondness bled into C-53’s voice. It sounded the same way it always did when they shared quiet moments together. Pleck couldn’t believe he had never picked up on it.

He squirmed sideways so he could face C-53 better. In the limited space, he had to curl his body slightly around the dehumidifier to make the position work. His frame was still very warm, though now he wasn’t sure if it was from residual frustration or simply from being next to Pleck, who positively felt like a radiator.

“But I’m me,” he said softly. He found it hard to grasp that someone so wonderful could have feelings for someone like him. Pleck Decksetter. Tellurian disaster.

“I am very aware of this,” C-53 acknowledged. He sounded amused now. “Are there any other obvious things you’d like to point out?”

Pleck leaned in to rest his forehead against his frame. “Well, I mean,” he inhaled, rallying himself. “I kinda like you, too.”

It was still hard to get out, even with the safety net of C-53’s affection to leap into. His fingertips were trembling. He pressed his hands against his frame to steady them. “Actually, y’know what? No. I like you a lot ,” he spilled breathlessly. “Like, a ridiculous amount.”

“I know.” C-53 answered gently.

He raised his head, surprised. “You do?”

“The whole crew knows, apparently.”

Pleck started laughing, embarrassed at how transparent he was. “Seriously?”

“Yes, I was incredibly delayed in realizing my feelings, but Dar and Bargie have seen this coming for a very long time.”

“Oh my Rodd.” Pleck shook his head, still smiling slightly. “I mean, I guess that makes sense. I’ve kinda been crushing on you for a long time.”

C-53’s processor hummed curiously. “How long?”

“Oh,” he blushed, if possible, even harder. “Since uh, back when you had your restraining bolt off for the first time, I think?”

Now C-53 was the one who was surprised. The incredulous trill in his voice was something that always made Pleck’s stomach flutter when he heard it. “ That was when you realized?” he asked. “I was relentlessly hostile to you.”

“It was cute,” Pleck laughed.

“Was not,” C-53 argued. “I belittled you mercilessly.”

“It was really cute,” he insisted.

He felt light and happy, like his heart was a tender bird finally freed from a cage. It was a relief to be able to say everything aloud. To share every affectionate thought that crossed his mind with the droid, finally, finally , after all this time. His palms were still shaking.

“Can you feel my hands right now?” he asked.

A short pause as C-53 analyzed his surroundings. “Unfortunately, I can only sense the moisture in the room,” he answered. “You’ve expelled a great deal of vapor while talking and you seem… rather sweaty.”

“Gross,” Pleck wrinkled his nose, but he was grinning.

“Not exactly the most romantic way this encounter could have gone,” the droid agreed.

Pleck settled in closer anyway, tracing the edges of C-53’s frame with light fingertips. He still couldn’t believe this was real. He wanted to hold him and hold him and hold him and never let go. He didn’t even care if his legs fell asleep, tucked against him as they were.

“Do you think you’ll reconsider killing yourself for the greater good?” C-53 broke the silence carefully.

His hand stilled, buoyant mood reeling back in. “I mean,” he hesitated. “If we can find another way, maybe…”

C-53 made that humming sound deep in his frame. It vibrated against him pleasantly. “We really need to work on your martyr complex,” he said.

“I don’t have a martyr complex,” Pleck replied defensively, but there was no edge to his words. He was feeling too soft to bother arguing.

“Sure,” C-53 went on. “Next time we run a heist, try not sacrificing yourself so the crew can escape. Then we’ll talk.”

He laughed weakly. “Okay, that’s- yeah, you got me there.”

Pleck would try, though. He would try for the droid beside him. Maybe there was another way. If there existed a chance to stay with C-53, he could fight and reach and claw for it.

“We all miss you,” C-53 continued. “Are you ready to go back out there? I’ll come with you.”

Pleck missed the crew, too. He felt fragile, though, like the gentlest breeze could break him. His heart was raw and sore as he held his best friend in the dark.

“Not yet,” he answered. “Soon, but - well, right now, I just want to stay here. With you. If you want?”

C-53 met him with the same constant grace he always reserved just for him. “Of course.”

And stay he did.

Chapter 9 <---

[theyaskedmeto]

sour undertones - klaine oneshot

read at ao3

words: 1723

AN: this was inspired by a piece of fanart by animateglee, go check it out!

summary: Kurt finds Blaine's diary and is surprised at what he finds there. Blaine thought it was good at the time, I mean, he got an A in creative writing from Miss Eavesbridge once!

*

The days have been long for the both of them, and it’s not like he was snooping, really, he wasn’t. He was bored. 

Ever since the lockdown had started in New York, Kurt felt like he was going to go mad. His apartment with Blaine was only small (despite their success and newfound fame, prices to live in the city were still ridiculously high) and there was only so much they could do in such a tiny space. After multiple different jigsaw puzzles and games of monopoly and other miscellaneous things that didn’t involve sitting around and scrolling through Instagram, he was starting to go a little bit crazy.

It was also hard for them - they were different types of people; Kurt was an extrovert… and well, Blaine… not so much. For Blaine, it was much easier; he would happily sit around at home all day keeping himself busy doing nothing much at all. 

But Kurt, he thrived on socialisation, on meeting new people, new faces and interesting personalities. He was growing tired. So he wasn’t surprised when he found himself searching through the shelves and bits of storage in their tiny home, not really knowing what he was looking for. 

He found lots of old things knocking around in their draws - a photo album of their first year together as a couple, and smiled as he looked through the miscellaneous memories that had been captured and saved, something to hold onto for all their lives. The receipt from their one of their many dates, a recipe book Kurt had given to Blaine one year for his birthday in their old loft in Bushwick, and Kurt was a little offended to find it hidden away in a random draw next to their bed, but then he decided to search some more. 

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t seen it before, but it was a beautiful thing, a notebook with a leather covering and writing on the front, stuck on with different clippings of letters from headlines of newspapers, and Kurt laughed to himself as it reminded him of The Burn Book from Mean Girls. A guilty pleasure of his, if he was being honest. 

However, this expression changed as he opened the notebook. He saw on the very first page, ‘property of Blaine Devon Anderson’ scribbled messily onto the parchment. Around it was lots of different doodles and hearts and other little drawings that made Kurt smile. Then he turned the page, realising what he was actually looking at. 

15th March 2011

Dear Diary, 

Kurt’s eyes widened as he recognised the date. That date was special to them. He recognised it, even more so, when he read the words ‘I kissed Kurt today!’ in big, capital letters, confirming why it was so special to them. That was when he burst out laughing, deciding to read on. Half of him felt bad for reading through his husband’s diary from nine years ago, but dammit - they were husbands! It was healthy to have some secrets in a relationship, he thought. Reading again, a big smile lit up his face.

I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am right now. I’ve been so oblivious all this time, and only now I’ve realised how much I appreciate him. I can’t believe that this might turn into a real thing soon! And hopefully, his feelings are the same. I mean, they would be, wouldn’t they? He did kiss me back. Twice. Anyway, I think I love him. He’s beautiful, and his eyes are so blue… 

Kurt was aware that his face was probably lit up like a Christmas tree, but he didn’t care. His now-husband had written about him in his diary on the day of their first kiss. He was allowed to be happy. 

“Kurt?” 

It was only then that Kurt closed the notebook abruptly, jumping up from where he was sat on the floor against the bed, dumping it on the floor and turning to face Blaine, who had now walked into the room. 

“What are you doing?” 

Oh god. Kurt looked suspicious. He was fully aware of that. He was trying to wipe his sweaty palms on his trousers (even if they weren’t allowed outside, didn’t mean his fashion game was going to falter) and his eyebrows were raised up far too high as he tried to keep a sense of nonchalance about his aura but failing. 

“Nothing, sweetheart.” He smiled. The tension in the room was suffocating. He shouldn’t have been nervous, really, he shouldn’t have, but Blaine was standing there looking very worried and curious and Kurt wasn’t ready for whatever would happen next. 

Blaine frowned, moving closer to Kurt. 

“You’re acting weird. What’s going—” 

He paused as he realised the notebook on the floor. He looked at it, sitting there, then back at his husband, whose eyes were now comically wide, and they stared at each other incredulously. 

“Kurt, I swear to fucking god—” 

Kurt broke the tension by letting out a giggle, deciding teasing was the best way to go about this situation. He bent down and picked up the notebook from the floor, and continued to read the page he’d been reading, but out loud to Blaine this time. 

“So, my soft but scratchy lips tasted exquisite… the sweet flavour of starburst fruit gums but also the sour undertones of orange juice, along with the sweet promise of love?” He burst out laughing. Blaine scrambled towards him, trying to snatch his old diary out of Kurt’s hands. 

“Kurt! Give that back!”

“Why... are you talking... about our first kiss... like it’s a fucking Michelin star meal?”  Kurt marvelled, between fits of laughter. Blaine was trying to grab the notebook but Kurt made sure to keep a hand on his chest, preventing him from stealing it back.  

“Kurt… please! I was excited!” Blaine shouted, exasperated. 

That only made Kurt laugh harder, running away from Blaine who was now getting closer to stealing the diary back, so he jumped up on the bed.

“No! I have a right!” He screamed, jumping down from the bed and now running around the apartment, trying to find another excruciatingly cringe-worthy piece of writing to read out to his very embarrassed husband. 

“When we pulled back, I stared into his piercing blue orbs… what the fuck are orbs?” He joked, collapsing onto their couch, reading some more, “and I was so dazed, the only thing going on in my mind was Kurt, Kurt, Kurt, then he said, in the softest, most beguiling voice—” he broke off his reading again, trying to understand Blaine’s writing, “sorry… Blaine? Why are you using such descriptive words? This sounds like a fucking fanfiction!” He laughed, then continuing, “he said we should practice,” he raised his eyebrows as he noticed Blaine was watching him at the end of the couch with an exaggerated pout on his face. 

“You’re so mean,” Blaine whined, he fucking whined, and that was when Kurt started to feel bad. 

“Honey, I’m sorry,” He apologized, “but you’ve gotta admit, it is pretty funny.”  

“You’re making fun of my sixteen-year-old self’s writing skills,” Blaine said, the pout on his face still prominent, “Miss Eavesbridge gave me an A for creative writing in English at Dalton once!” He said, referencing their Eleventh Grade English teacher.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry for making fun of your creative writing skills,” Kurt laughed, affectionately, pulling Blaine onto the couch from where he was sitting, untangling his folded arms. “Although I don’t think this would be creative writing since it actually happened.” He cross-examined, stroking his hands through his husband’s hair. He was so grateful that Blaine had loosened up on the gel now, moving away from the brick-like hair he had five years ago. He loved stroking Blaine’s hair.

Blaine groaned in annoyance at Kurt’s display of his pedantic trait but obviously appreciated the attention, nestling his head into Kurt’s neck, wrapping his arms around his husband. 

“You’ve embarrassed me.” 

“That’s what marriage is for!” 

“Rude.”

“You’re cute.” 

Blaine looked up at Kurt then, lifting his torso so he was fully on top of his husband, holding himself up by his hands. “I can’t believe you found my old diary. Although I am sorry that I described our first kiss like a Michelin star meal. It’s just— it was special, you know? And I wanted to remember every bit of it.” 

Kurt’s face was glowing. He was so in love with Blaine, every day his love grew stronger. As he looked into his hazel (Kurt laughed to himself as he thought of the word orbs) eyes, he wondered how he had become so lucky. 

“It was special. Do you want to recreate it?” He replied.

Blaine hummed appreciatively, “mmm. Sounds like a good idea,” and leaned in for a kiss. They stayed like that for a while, breathing each other in, Kurt’s hand cupping Blaine’s cheek, eyes closed. 

When they broke apart, they stared at each other for a while, when Kurt mumbled, obviously quite dazed, “Any sour undertones of orange there?”

Blaine groaned, dropping his head back down onto Kurt’s shoulder, “That honestly sounds so fucking disgusting. I can’t believe I ever wrote that.” 

“Well, actually, you said you wanted to remember every moment of our first kiss, but you actually got a bit of it wrong in your writing.” Kurt acknowledged, picking up Blaine’s old diary again, “you see, here you wrote that I said we should practice, but I actually remember quite clearly that you said that.”

Blaine frowned at this, grabbing the diary out of Kurt’s hands, reading out loud where he had written that. 

“he said, in the softest, most beguiling voice, we should practice. Huh. I did get that wrong. Guess my mind was so dazed all I could think about was Kurt, Kurt, Kurt.” Blaine said, quoting his diary entry. 

Kurt burst out laughing at that, wrapping his arms around Blaine’s neck, pulling him in for a short kiss once again. “You’re such a dork.” 

“But you love me anyway.” Blaine smiled.

“Of course I do. And I know you love me too.” Kurt replied, pressing their lips together again. He loved his beautiful, ‘I-got-an-A-in-creative-writing’, beguiling husband. And he wasn’t going to see the end of this story in a very, very long time.

[isitgintimeyet]

Road To The Aisles

AO3

Previous

Once again, thanks to all of you who take the time to read, like, reblog and comment. I am very grateful.

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge, @happytoobserve and @wickedgoodbooks for the continuing support.

Note - it’s not really NSFW, just a bit suggestive!

Chapter 4: A Sartorial Confluence

There is nothing more admirable than when two people who see eye to eye keep house as man and wife, confounding their enemies and delighting their friends.

― Homer, The Odyssey

The pub was quiet as Jamie and John settled themselves in their usual corner table, gym bags discreetly placed out of the way. Not that the space was crowded  so early in the evening, but at least it kept the landlord happy.

They sat quietly for a minute, drinking their whisky, before Jamie pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and started flicking through the screens.

“See here, John, these are the latest pictures I took of William, yesterday. See how he’s growing awfa big... what?”

John couldn’t hide the smirk on his face. He pursed his lips and tried to look serious. “I’m sorry. Go on.”

“Am I going on too much about the bairn? I dinna mean tae but I canna help it.”

John shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. It’s not that. I just can’t help but think about you at university. You’d run a mile at the merest whiff of commitment… as soon as any girl started talking about plans for the next week, let alone long term. And to see you now… getting married, baby, the works.”

Jamie smiled and put his phone down. “Aye, weel, I was young and foolish and I hadna met Claire. Turns out commitment is easy when ye’re with the right person. But what about ye, John, do ye no’ fancy that commitment… marriage, maybe a baby? Do ye ever think about that?”

John picked up his whisky glass and stared into it, unwilling to raise his eyes to Jamie. “Yes, I do… sometimes.”

He paused, then quickly continued. “But I don’t want a baby without a relationship and obviously the whole baby thing is more difficult for me. No little accidents… sorry Jamie. It takes more planning if I… we… wanted a family. So I don’t know if any of that will happen. But I’d like to think it might… one day. Up ‘till then, I’ll just be Uncle John to your William.”

Jamie glanced at this watch and took a final swig of his drink. “I best away. Claire’s round at mine… soon tae be ours… this evening and we are planning what needs to be done at the weekend, before the official move. So all her stuff can fit in the house too. She said she’s planning on hiring a rubbish skip.”

“She is joking…” He stood up and looked at John. “I think.”

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

“So, I’ve got a spreadsheet we need to work to,” Claire said happily as she opened up her laptop. “See, this column here is the list of things I’m bringing over from my flat, here’s where they’re going to go and this column is what we have to do to fit them in.”

Jamie studied the spreadsheet, then looked over at Claire. “What we have tae do with ma stuff?”

She nodded.

“And what’s C… R… B?”

“Charity, Recycle, Bin. Come on, I’ve gone through all my stuff at the flat. Over half the stuff’s gone to charity. Time for the same here. I bet you’ve not had a good clear out since you moved in, have you?”

“There may be a good reason why I keep things…”

“Is there?”

“Shush, Sassenach, I’m trying tae think of one… anyways... an Excel spreadsheet and ye look mighty proud of it.”

“I am and I thought you’d appreciate it, as an accountant and all. Just think of it as a balance sheet as we merge our assets.”

Jamie watched as Claire gathered up the laptop and roll of black bin bags. He couldn’t help but smile. This was the start of another chapter, so many new beginnings this year. It was exciting knowing that he would be waking up every morning next to Claire. He realised that they were practically living together already, but soon it would be official. And then they would be able to start planning the wedding.

But first came the hard work: sorting through all his belongings to make room for Claire’s. Mind you, he knew he would willingly give it all away as long as he had Claire… but there was really no need to tell her that, just in case.

“Shall we start in the bedroom?” Claire asked as she headed upstairs.

“Aye,” Jamie replied with a failed attempt at a wink. Claire, fortunately, was too far up the stairs to notice.

He joined Claire in his (their) bedroom, where she was standing in the middle of the room, hands on hips and contemplating the wall of fitted wardrobes. He walked straight over and proudly opened the doors of a double wardrobe. “See, made a start. This wardrobe is cleared and ready for yer clothes. If I give ye half the storage here, is that enough space?”

Claire nodded in agreement before walking across to another cupboard which she opened to reveal large evenly spaced shelves, each filled to capacity with an assortment of men’s clothing.

“How about here? Can I have a couple of these shelves too?”

“Aye, of course. I just need to have a wee look through the shelves…" Jamie began as Claire systematically scooped the contents of each shelf up in her arms and placed them in piles on the bed. The black bin bags hovered ominously at the edge of Jamie’s vision.

“Ok, so…” Claire reached across the bed. “What do we have here?”

She swiftly flicked through the pile of trousers. “Four pairs of cargo pants and two pairs of cargo shorts… really?”

“Aye, weel, they’re awfa practical, ye ken. Look at all the wee pockets… sae useful fer carrying all yer stuff. Ye have a handbag, I can use the pockets.”

“But I’ve never seen you wear them. When did you buy them?”

Jamie moved and sat on the edge of the bed next to the items in question. He gathered a pair up as he answered.

“A while ago…” he said evasively. “I thought mebbe I could wear them with William, keep things in the pockets… wet wipes… tissues… fresh nappies…”

“And,” he continued excitedly. “See this pair, look at the wee zips on the legs. Ye can even turn these intae shorts. Useful in Scotland when ye dinna ken what the weather’s going tae be.”

Jamie started to unzip one of the legs before Claire stopped him.

“That’s ok, no need to demonstrate. But when you’re out and about with these ‘useful’ trousers-slash-shorts, where would you put the bits of legs that you’ve unzipped? I mean, according to you, you don’t need a bag, and the pockets are going to be full of William’s stuff.”

“Is that a ‘no’ on the shorts then, Sassenach?”

“Up to you, Jamie, but how about you try them on and then make a decision?”

Jamie mumbled agreement as Claire turned her attention to her next pile of t-shirts.

“Ed Hardy? How long have you had these?”

“Probably while I was at uni.”

“And you’ve kept them all this time?”

“They’ll be classics, ye ken. Mebbe worth a bob or two.”

“All the more reason to give them to charity. Try one on if you like. Here you go.”

Claire tossed one of the t-shirts to Jamie. He stood and started to unbutton his shirt.

“Wait a second.” Claire stopped him.

“Eh? Ye dinna usually stop me taking ma clothes off, Sassenach.”

“Let’s just see if there is anything else for you to try on.”

Claire efficiently rifled through a pile of gym wear, plucking an item from the middle. She held up a pair of midnight blue Lycra cycling shorts, still complete with labels.

“And you don’t even have a bike.”

“Aye, I do, up at Lallybroch. I bought them and then decided they were a wee bit too revealing tae wear. And I must have forgotten tae take them back.”

Claire watched as Jamie quickly stripped off his black jeans and checked shirt before trying on the beige cargo pants and Ed Hardy t-shirt.

Jamie pulled the trousers up, meeting some resistance over his thighs. It took a considerable amount of wiggling and gentle tugging, but the trousers were on. Claire suppressed a smile as he breathed in, sucking his stomach in and trying to force the waistband to meet. With the fly zip not even half way up, he conceded defeat, let out the breath and turned his attention to the t-shirt. After struggling to get his head through the t-shirt, he finally managed it, the shirt’s hem landing a couple of inches above his navel.

Claire burst out laughing as Jamie stood in front of her, his arms held awkwardly at his sides, his muscles clearly defined through the straining fabric of the t-shirt.

“I canna move ma arms much, nor ma legs and I think I’ll need yer help to get me out of these.”

Jamie bent over as Claire grabbed the hem of the shirt and pulled it back over his head, snagging his ears in the process.

“So, alright, charity shop they are then.” He reached for his shirt.

“Just a minute,” Claire interrupted. “One more thing for you to try on.”

She pointed at the cycle shorts.

“Nah, they're fer the charity shop too. I told ye they’re a bit indecent.”

“I know. Just try them on… please.”

Jamie gave a chuckle as he turned away from Claire, quickly shimmied the cargo pants and his underpants off and pulled the cycle shorts on. He briefly adjusted himself before facing Claire once more.

“Weel, I canna give these tae the charity shop. Not now ma cock has touched them.”

“Er… that’s fine. I don’t think I want you to get rid of these.” Claire unashamedly stared at Jamie’s body, her gaze working its way down -- the broad shoulders, the muscles of his chest and abdomen narrowing to his hips, the strong thighs. She reached out and lightly touched his cock, the stirrings of his erection clearly visible through the Lycra. She stepped closer and grabbed his backside, bringing him tight against her.

With his breath hot against her neck, she let out a little sigh.

“Do these turn ye on?” he whispered in her ear.

“Oh god, yes.”  She moaned as she pushed Jamie onto the bed.

***********

“Jamie.” Claire giggled. “Really… already?”

“Mmm… eh… what?” Jamie’s voice was sleepy in Claire’s ear.

Claire reached behind her, fingers groping for the persistent hardness pushing against her back, only to find the roll of black bin bags. This had obviously been missed earlier when Jamie had roughly swept everything off their bed in his haste to satisfy Claire’s urgent excitement, thanks to his cycle shorts, which were now wrapped around one of his ankles. He shook his leg to free himself from them.

“What?” he repeated, now slightly less drowsy. He could feel Claire laughing, causing her whole body to shake.

“I thought you’d made a quick recovery. Turns out, it was only the bin bags, though.” She brandished the offending items aloft.

“Good girth there, I’ll take that as a compliment, Sassenach.”

“I need to get up.” Claire made to sit up but Jamie held her back, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

“Rest a while longer…”

They lay quietly together for a moment before Jamie started to speak.

“Ye ken this is our anniversary today”

“No, Jamie, you’re wrong. That’s at the end of the month”

“Ah, weel, I ken that’s the proper one, the anniversary of our first date. But it’s Rupert and Fiona’s wedding anniversary today, and that’s where I first spotted ye at that hotel. I sometimes wonder what would’ve happened if I’d have followed yer arse instead of just staring at it heading up those stairs.”

“Or if I’d have gone looking for you once I’d seen you with Jenny…”

“Imagine, nae more Geneva tae deal with in our lives.”

“Mmm, lovely as that sounds, it would mean no William.”

Jamie pulled Claire onto her side to face him. “Aye, and I truly couldna be without him now. I can be sorry for many things, and I am sorry for what ye have had tae go through but I am no’ sorry that we have William.”

Claire stroked Jamie’s face, rubbing the weekend growth of ginger bristles with her finger tips. “And you know, Jamie, neither am I.”