#it’s never been a good bedroom with enough space even when i had a loft bed

[fandomitor]

it seems that my mother doesn’t understand basic math (geometry? but 3d) that you can’t fit a rectangle into a smaller square (even if it’s attached to a longer rectangle (stairs) if you can’t get it past the doorway)

[emjayewrites]

fouled by fate • aurelien tchouameni (3/10)

SYNOPSIS: Aurélien Tchouaméni, one of football’s rising stars, is used to navigating the pressures of the pitch—but nothing could prepare him for an arranged marriage. With his family’s legacy and cultural traditions at stake, Aurélien reluctantly agrees to marry a woman he barely knows. But as they’re thrust into the public eye, sparks fly in unexpected ways. The two must navigate the complexities of love, duty, and fame, all while figuring out if they’re playing on the same team—or if their hearts are destined for different paths.

PAIRINGS: Aurélien Tchouaméni x Zuri Awanto Nchang (faceclaim Samira Ahmed @/iamsamiira)

WARNINGS: cursing, football b.s., dry humor/wit, slight arguing, friends to lovers, instant attraction, eventual smut (18+/minors dni)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @vile-harlot @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @essaysbyciara @saturnville @trentswrld @planetmimi @muglermami @shepgurl @sucredreamer @julescpu @tchouathon @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie

A/N: Please let me know if you like to be removed/added to the taglist. Also, a surprise mention in this chapter that links to another story!

Aurélien's fingers danced across the piano keys, the melody of Chopin's Nocturne in E-flat major filling the study. It was the night before their trip to Poland, and he found himself seeking solace in the familiar notes.

The past week had been… interesting, to say the least. He and Zuri had fallen into a sort of routine, sharing meals when his training schedule allowed, and watching movies and true crime documentaries in the evening. They'd even managed a few genuine conversations, tiptoeing around the elephant in the room that was their impending marriage.

But lately, Aurélien had noticed a change in Zuri. She'd become more withdrawn, her usual sass replaced by a melancholy he couldn't quite understand. He'd catch her staring off into space, her phone clutched tightly in her hand as if it were a lifeline to a world she'd left behind.

As he transitioned into a softer passage, a raised voice from the next room cut through the music. Aurélien's hands stilled on the keys, his brow furrowing as he listened.

"Papa, please…" Zuri's voice, muffled but clearly distressed.

The responding male voice was loud enough for Aurélien to hear clearly, even through the wall. "You need to take this seriously, Zuri! This isn't some game!"

Aurélien felt his jaw clench. He'd never heard Zuri's father before, but the man's tone made something protective stir in his chest.

"I am taking it seriously!" Zuri shot back, her voice cracking slightly. "You're the one who threw me into this situation!"

"We've been over this. It's for your own good. For the family's good."

Aurélien sat frozen at the piano, feeling like an intruder but unable to move. Was this why Zuri had been so down lately? How long had these arguments been going on?

He thought back to his loft bedroom, realizing with a start that he wouldn't have been able to hear these conversations from up there. Had Zuri been dealing with this pressure alone all this time?

The argument continued, Zuri's responses becoming shorter, more defeated. Aurélien's hands hovered over the keys, itching to drown out the harsh words with music, to offer some kind of shelter from the storm raging next door.

He exhaled slowly, his mind racing. Tomorrow, they'd be in Poland. Away from the pressure of family, of expectations. Maybe it would give them both a chance to breathe, to figure out what they really wanted from this arrangement.

"You're being stupid, Zuri! I need you to understand what this means for you as well. You lack discipline; how can you go to university for all those years and then be so reckless to throw it away?!"

Deeming he heard enough, Aurélien stood abruptly, his decision made before he could second-guess himself. He strode into Zuri's room, barely registering her shocked expression as he plucked the phone from her hand.

"Monsieur," he said smoothly into the phone, his French crisp and authoritative. "C'est Aurélien. Zuri va très bien, vous devez vous détendre. (Sir, this is Aurélien. Zuri is doing great.)"

Zuri's father sputtered on the other end, caught off guard by the unexpected interruption. Aurélien continued the conversation, his tone firm but respectful, reassuring the older man about their situation. After a few minutes, he ended the call with a polite "Au revoir" and placed the phone on Zuri's dresser.

He turned to face Zuri, who was staring at him with a mix of surprise and something that might have been gratitude. "How long has this been happening?" he asked, his voice softer now.

Zuri shrugged, trying for nonchalance but failing. "It's not a big deal. He's just… worried."

"Is he usually like this?" Aurélien pressed, feeling a surge of protectiveness.

"Sometimes," Zuri admitted, her eyes downcast.

Aurélien stepped closer, his jaw clenching. "I don't like him talking to you like that. If it happens again, I might have to punch him in the mouth."

Zuri's eyes widened at his words, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

"Come here," Aurélien said, opening his arms slightly. Zuri hesitated, her stubbornness kicking in. Aurélien's eyebrow raised. "Don't make me say it again."

With a sigh that was more for show than anything, Zuri stood and stepped into his embrace. The hug was awkward at first, but as Zuri relaxed into it, Aurélien found himself breathing in her scent. She smelled like coconut and something spicy - cinnamon, maybe?

As they pulled apart, Aurélien asked, "So, how are your brand deals going?"

Zuri bit her lip. "I… kind of took a break from influencing."

Aurélien frowned. "You don't have to do that. You can post, just keep our relationship under wraps for now. I'll talk to my PR team about how to handle it."

"Really?" Zuri's face lit up. "Can I post about Poland?"

Aurélien thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Yeah," he said. "Don't want your followers to think you're dead in a ditch or something."

Zuri laughed, the sound genuine and warm. Aurélien found himself smiling in response, the tension from earlier dissipating.

"Get some sleep," he said, heading towards the door. "We've got an early flight."

Aurélien was almost out the door when he heard Zuri's whispered "Thank you." He turned to see a lone tear sliding down her cheek.

"No problem, ma chérie," he replied softly, then froze. Sweetheart? Where the fuck did that come from? He closed the door quickly, his mind reeling. "Allez, Zeus," he called, desperate for a distraction. The dog padded after him as he headed upstairs.

In the bathroom, Aurélien cranked the shower to its hottest setting, letting the scalding water pound against his still-aching muscles. He needed to clear his head, to make sense of this slowly but surely growing attraction to Zuri.

And her father... Christ. The man's bullheadedness reminded Aurélien of his own father, minus the yelling. No wonder the two had been best mates in school. Both pushing relentlessly for their children's success, consequences be damned.

Aurélien had gotten the brunt of it as the eldest, but he could only imagine how Zuri had it. His father had mentioned once that she was the youngest and only girl. That couldn't have been easy.

Stepping out of the shower into the steam-filled bathroom, Aurélien wrapped a towel around his waist and padded to his bedroom. He flopped onto the bed, grabbing his phone and opening Instagram almost on autopilot.

Zuri's profile popped up in his suggestions. Without overthinking it, he hit the follow button.

His eyes drifted to the packed bags in the corner of the room. Tomorrow would bring... what? A new challenge? A chance to figure this mess out?

With a sigh, Aurélien shut off the lights. Zeus hopped up, curling against his side. As sleep began to claim him, Aurélien's last coherent thought was of Zuri's smile when he'd said she could post again.

I'm so fucked...

Zuri sat cross-legged on the hotel bed, her fingers flying across her phone screen. The familiar rush of crafting the perfect post filled her with a sense of normalcy she hadn't felt in weeks. She hit 'share' and watched as the likes and comments immediately started rolling in.

A smile tugged at her lips. God, she'd missed this. The break had been necessary, sure, but coming back felt like slipping into a favorite pair of jeans. Comfortable. Right.

Her DMs were already filling up with brand deal inquiries. The New York market had been good to her, but now... Now she had a whole new city to explore, new trends to set, new stories to tell. The possibilities made her head spin in the best way possible.

As she scrolled, her mind drifted to Aurélien. Their... arrangement (she still struggled to find the right word for it) was as unclear as ever. But the way he'd handled her father... Zuri felt a warmth bloom in her lower regions at the memory. No one had ever stood up to him like that before, not even her mother. Whatever Aurélien wanted, she'd happily give it to him on a silver platter for that alone.

She made a mental note to research Madrid's influencer scene when they got back. New city, new strategies. But for now, she was in Poland, and there was content to be made.

The knock on her door startled her out of her planning. She wasn't expecting anyone - Aurélien was at a team dinner, and she'd appreciated the space, even if a small part of her missed his presence.

Opening the door revealed a familiar face, though not the one she'd been half-expecting. Lila Hamilton stood there, all 5'3" of her radiating effortless cool. The famous fashion designer, model, and younger sister of the greatest motorsport driver alive was standing outside her door. Her light brown skin glowed under the hallway lights, and her normally curly hair was styled in intricate goddess braids.

Ho-ly shit! What the hell is my life?!

Pushing her inner fangirl aside, she gave Lila a smile. "H-Hey."

"Surprise!" Lila grinned, pushing past Zuri into the room. "Aurel thought you could use some company."

As they settled on the couch, chatting and laughing, Zuri felt some of the tension she'd been carrying melt away.

Lila's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "So, Jude told me about your situation with Aurélien. How are you holding up?"

Zuri sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It's... a lot. I mean, one minute I'm in New York, the next I'm in Madrid with a fiancé I barely know."

Lila nodded sympathetically. "I can't even imagine. But hey, at least Aurélien's a decent guy, right? Jude speaks so highly of him."

"He is," Zuri admitted, a small smile tugging at her lips. "He's been... surprisingly understanding about everything."

"That's good," Lila said, her tone softening. "You know, Jude mentioned that Aurélien seems different lately. In a good way. Maybe this arrangement isn't so bad after all?"

Before Zuri could respond, another knock interrupted their chat. This time, it was Aurélien.

"Hey, Aurélien," Lila said, standing to give him a quick hug.

"Hey, Li," he greeted with a small smile. "Jude's looking for you, by the way."

Lila rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Of course he is. You'd think he'd have better things to do than worry about where I am."

Aurélien smirked. "You'd think."

"Alright, I'm out. Z, see you tomorrow at the game," Lila said.

As the door closed behind Lila, leaving Aurélien and Zuri alone, the air seemed to shift. Aurélien gestured to the couch. "Mind if I...?"

Zuri shook her head, scooting over to make room. As he sat, she caught a whiff of his cologne - spicy and warm.

"So," Aurélien started, his voice low. "About next month, when our parents visit..."

Zuri felt her stomach clench. Right. Reality. She nodded slowly, her fingers absently playing with the hem of her shirt. "Right. Next month."

Aurélien leaned back, his arm draped casually over the back of the couch. "I was thinking," he started, his eyes meeting hers, "maybe we should come up with a game plan. You know, figure out how we want to handle things."

Zuri raised an eyebrow. "A game plan? For our arranged marriage?"

A small smile tugged at Aurélien's lips. "When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous."

"That's because it is ridiculous," Zuri said, but there was no bite to her words.

Aurélien nodded, his expression turning more serious. "Look, I know this isn't ideal for either of us. But we're in this situation now, and I think... I think we could make it work. If we're on the same page."

Zuri studied him for a moment, taking in the sincerity in his eyes. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well," Aurélien said, shifting slightly to face her better, "for starters, I think we should be honest with each other. About our expectations, our boundaries, all of it."

Zuri felt something in her chest loosen at his words. "I'd like that," she admitted softly.

"And about your work," Aurélien continued, "I meant what I said. I don't want you to give up your career for this. We'll figure out how to make it work with the PR team."

Zuri blinked, surprised by his support. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aurélien's hand found hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We're partners in this, Zuri. Whatever happens, we face it together. Okay?"

As Zuri looked at him, she felt a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the room temperature. "Okay," she agreed, a small smile forming on her lips.

Aurélien cleared his throat, his eyes darting away for a moment before meeting hers again. "There's also the matter of... living arrangements."

Zuri felt her heart skip a beat. "Oh?"

"I mean, eventually, we'll need to share a room," he said, his voice low. "For appearances, if nothing else."

Zuri couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips, feeling her cheeks warm. "Right. Appearances."

Aurélien's lips twitched, amusement dancing in his eyes. "And then there's the matter of... you know."

"Sex?" Zuri supplied, her voice higher than usual.

Aurélien nodded, his tongue darting out his mouth to lick his bottom lip. "Yeah, that."

They both burst into laughter, the tension breaking.

"And kids?" Zuri asked, once they'd calmed down.

Aurélien's expression softened. "I'd like at least one, eventually. You?"

Zuri bit her lip. "I hadn't really thought about it. I mean, I'm only 24. Having a baby now seems... crazy."

"Yeah, of course. There's no rush," Aurélien assured her quickly. "We've got time."

As if on cue, Zuri's stomach growled loudly. Aurélien grinned, reaching for the room service menu. "Hungry?"

They ordered room service - a juicy burger with truffle fries for Aurélien and a Caesar salad with grilled chicken for Zuri. As they settled in to watch an episode of a true crime documentary, Zuri couldn't help but marvel at how comfortable this felt. Just days ago, they were strangers thrust into an impossible situation. Now, here they were, sharing a meal and casual conversation like old friends.

As they ate, Aurélien mentioned tomorrow's game.

"You're going to learn about football whether you like it or not," he teased, popping a fry into his mouth.

Zuri smirked, spearing a piece of chicken with her fork. "Maybe I should just watch Ted Lasso instead."

Aurélien's eyes narrowed playfully. "Don't play with me, ZuZu."

The nickname sent a jolt through Zuri, her mind going into overdrive. ZuZu? When did that happen? And why did it make her heart flutter?

As they continued watching, Zuri found her thoughts drifting. Their conversation earlier about honesty, expectations, and boundaries echoed in her mind. It was surreal how quickly things were progressing, how easily they seemed to be falling into a rhythm. Part of her wanted to resist, to remind herself that this was still an arranged marriage, still not what she'd chosen for herself. But another part - a growing part - was starting to wonder if should just see where things could go with Aurélien.

After three episodes, Aurélien eventually stood to leave, stretching as he did. His shirt rode up, revealing a sliver of toned abs that made Zuri's mouth go dry. All thoughts of resistance fled her mind at the sight.

"See you tomorrow?" he asked, oblivious to the effect he was having on her.

"Y-yes," Zuri managed, her eyes still fixed on his midsection.

"Goodnight, ma chérie," Aurélien said softly, before heading out.

Once she was all by herself, Zuri flopped back onto the couch, one hand clutching at her chest dramatically. "That's a man, Savannah," she breathed, a dreamy smile spreading across her face.

The next morning, Zuri found herself in the stands of the PGE Narodowy Stadium in Warsaw, surrounded by a sea of white and royal blue. The UEFA Super Cup match between Real Madrid and Atalanta was about to begin, and the energy in the stadium was electric.

Zuri leaned towards Lila, having to raise her voice to be heard over the roar of the crowd. "Is it always this intense?"

Lila grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Oh honey, this is just the warm-up. Wait till the match starts!"

As an American, Zuri was used to the spectacle of NFL games, but this... this was something else entirely. The chants, the flags, the sheer passion of the fans around her was unlike anything she'd experienced before.

"I've been to Giants games back home," Zuri shouted to Lila, "but this is on another level!"

Lila laughed, linking her arm through Zuri's. "Welcome to European football. It's not just a game, it's a religion."

As the teams took the field, the stadium erupted. Zuri's eyes immediately found Aurélien, his tall frame easy to spot even from their seats. She felt a flutter in her stomach that had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with how he looked in his kit.

"So," Lila said, a mischievous glint in her eye, "on a scale of one to 'climb him like a tree', how are you feeling about your arranged husband right now?"

Zuri felt her cheeks warm. "Lila!"

"What? I'm just saying, seeing Jude in his kit still does things to me." Lila's eyes found her boyfriend on the field, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Trust me, it never gets old."

Zuri shook her head, laughing despite herself. As the whistle blew to start the match, she found herself swept up in the excitement. She might not understand all the rules yet, but watching Aurélien move across the field with such grace and power, she was beginning to see the appeal of the beautiful game.

The crowd around them surged and swayed with every play, their emotions rising and falling like a tempestuous sea. Zuri found herself joining in, shouting and cheering along with everyone else, caught up in the infectious energy of it all.

As halftime approached, Zuri turned to Lila, her eyes wide with exhilaration. "Okay, I get it now. This is amazing!"

Lila smirked. "Just wait till you experience the rivalry match with FC Barcelona. This? This is nothing."

Zuri couldn't imagine anything more intense than this, but as she watched Aurélien jog off the field, catching his eye as he glanced up at the stands, she realized she was looking forward to finding out.

As the second half kicked off, the intensity in the stadium only seemed to increase. Zuri found herself on the edge of her seat, her heart racing with every near miss and spectacular save. She was surprised at how quickly she'd become invested in the game, cheering loudly whenever Aurélien or Jude had possession of the ball.

The match remained scoreless well into the second half, the tension mounting with each passing minute. Then, in the 59th minute, it happened. Federico Valverde put Real Madrid ahead from close range, converting a precise pass from Vinícius Junior.

The stadium exploded. Zuri found herself on her feet, screaming in jubilation along with thousands of other fans. Lila grabbed her in a tight hug, both of them jumping up and down in excitement.

"Did you see that?" Zuri yelled, her voice hoarse.

Lila grinned back at her. "I told you it was something else!"

Just nine minutes later, the crowd erupted again as Kylian Mbappé, making his debut for Real Madrid, fired the ball into the top corner from Jude Bellingham's pass.

"Oh my god, Jude assisted that!" Lila screamed, her pride evident.

The remaining minutes of the game were a blur of nervous energy and excited chatter. When the final whistle blew, confirming Real Madrid's 2-0 victory and their record sixth Super Cup crown, the celebration in the stands was deafening.

As the team did their victory lap around the pitch, Jude broke away from the group, jogging over to where Lila and Zuri were standing. In a move that had clearly been practiced, he leapt up, grabbing the edge of the barrier to pull himself up to Lila's level. Their kiss was brief but passionate, eliciting cheers from nearby fans.

Zuri watched, a mix of amusement and envy swirling in her chest. Then she saw Aurélien approaching. Her breath caught as he came to a stop in front of her, his face flushed with exertion and triumph.

"So," he said, his voice barely audible over the crowd, "what did you think of your first football match?"

Zuri found herself grinning widely. "It was... incredible. You were all incredible."

Aurélien's smile widened, his eyes locked on hers. For a moment, Zuri thought he might follow Jude's example and leap up to kiss her. Instead, he reached up, his hand finding hers and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said softly. "Maybe you'll want to come to more games?"

Zuri nodded, suddenly breathless. "Yeah," she managed. "I'd like that."

As Aurélien jogged back to join his teammates, Zuri turned to find Lila watching her with a knowing smirk.

"What?" Zuri asked, feeling her cheeks warm.

Lila just shook her head, laughing. "Oh honey, you've got it bad."

As they made their way to the locker room, the team's voices echoed through the tunnel:

"¡Hala Madrid! ¡Hala Madrid! ¡Hala Madrid y nada más!"

The chant reverberated off the walls, their jubilation palpable. Aurélien felt the rush of victory coursing through his veins, his grin wide and unrestrained.

In the showers, the celebration continued, steam rising around them as they rehashed the game's best moments.

"Mbappé!" Aurélien called out, his voice carrying over the spray of water. "Not bad for a debut, yeah?"

Kylian's laughter rang out. "Just getting started, bro. Just getting started."

After cleaning up, a smaller group decided on a quieter celebration. Aurélien, Kylian, Jude, Ferland, and Eduardo made their way to the designated family area, a secluded section just off the main corridor. It was a haven away from the prying eyes of the media, where partners and families could wait in relative privacy.

As they approached, Aurélien's eyes immediately found Zuri.

"Hey," he said softly, approaching her. "Tag along with Lila, okay? We'll meet you at the restaurant."

Zuri nodded, understanding the need for discretion. Aurélien could see the flash of cameras beyond the security barriers, hear the distant shouts of reporters hoping for a quote or a clear shot. He felt a protective urge rise within him, wanting to shield Zuri from the chaos that came with his world.

When they walked out, Aurélien couldn't help but steal glances at her, admiring how she fit in so naturally with the group. Lila had linked arms with Zuri, the two women chatting animatedly as they navigated the gauntlet of paparazzi. Aurélien made a mental note to thank Lila later for taking Zuri under her wing.

At the restaurant, they settled into a large, semi-circular booth tucked away in a corner. Without thinking, Aurélien's arm found its way to the back of the seat behind Zuri. He wasn't quite touching her, but he could feel the heat radiating off her body, acutely aware of every small movement she made.

He watched, amused, as Lila perched on Jude's lap, the couple sharing a quick kiss. The easy affection between them made something twist in Aurélien's chest - a feeling he wasn't quite ready to examine too closely.

"Careful there, Bellingham," Aurélien teased. "Don't lose her in your lap. Might need a search party to find her."

Laughter erupted around the table, Lila sticking her tongue out at Aurélien good-naturedly.

As the waiter approached, Aurélien leaned in closer to Zuri. "Trust me?" he murmured.

At her nod, he took charge, ordering for both of them with a confidence that surprised even himself. He'd paid more attention to her likes and dislikes than he'd realized.

"The grilled salmon with roasted vegetables for the lady," he said, his voice smooth. "And she'll start with the butternut squash soup."

Zuri's eyes widened slightly, impressed. She caught Lila's gaze across the table, the petite woman's smile widening into a Cheshire cat grin. Lila leaned in to whisper something to Jude, whose own smile grew to match his girlfriend's.

"Look at you, Tchouaméni," Camavinga teased, "already ordering for your wife like a proper gentleman."

Jude chuckled, his arm tightening around Lila's waist. "He's learning from the best, mate."

"Oh please," Lila rolled her eyes, but her fond smile betrayed her. "As if you knew what a vegetable was before you met me."

The table erupted in laughter, Jude feigning offense. Throughout the meal, Aurélien couldn't help but notice how Jude's eyes constantly drifted to Lila, how his hand always found its way back to her, even when reaching for his drink or gesturing during a story. It was like Lila was his anchor in a storm of excitement and celebration.

Later that night, as Aurélien and Zuri walked to a nearby ice cream shop, Zuri brought up the couple.

"I follow Lila on Instagram," she said, licking her vanilla cone. "Their photos are cute, but seeing them in person… they can barely keep their hands off each other."

Aurélien chuckled, his own chocolate ice cream forgotten for a moment. "Yeah, Jude's had it bad for her for a while now. Even before they started dating, he'd get this dopey look on his face whenever someone mentioned her name."

Zuri raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Jude had a crush on her for months before he worked up the courage to ask her out," Aurélien replied. "Nearly drove the rest of us mad with his pining."

They both laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet street.

As they entered the hotel, Aurélien felt a strange reluctance to end the evening. "Want to watch another episode of that crime documentary?" he found himself asking.

Zuri nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Sure, why not?"

In her room, they settled on the couch, noticeably closer than before. Aurélien couldn't help but appreciate how comfortable Zuri seemed around him now, her body slightly leaning into his as the episode played.

Halfway through, he noticed her breathing had evened out. Glancing down, he saw she had fallen asleep, her head dangerously close to resting on his shoulder. For a moment, he didn't want to move, content in this peaceful bubble they'd created.

Eventually, though, he knew he had to go. Gently, he shifted her to lie fully on the couch, draping a blanket over her sleeping form. He turned off the TV, the room plunging into a soft darkness broken only by the city lights filtering through the curtains.

Before he could overthink it, Aurélien leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Zuri's forehead. "See you tomorrow, ma chérie," he whispered, then quietly left the room.

Aurélien headed to his floor and he couldn't shake the realization that he was in deep. Every moment with Zuri revealed something new to like about her, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Lost in thought, he almost bumped into a shirtless Jude at the ice machine.

Jude's eyebrows waggled suggestively. "Coming back from Zuri's room, eh?"

Aurélien rolled his eyes, but before he could retort, Jude pressed something into his hand - a condom.

"You're going to need this more than me now," Jude said with a wink.

Aurélien snorted. "Pretty sure you'll have better use for it, Mr. I-have-an-actual-girlfriend."

Jude shrugged, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Not anymore. Lila just told me she's on birth control now."

Aurélien made a face, tilting his head to the side. "T-M-fuckin'-I, Bellingham, but I don't think Lewis would be too happy if you knock up his baby sister. You're on thin ice as it is."

Jude scoffed, already heading back to his room. "No one's afraid of Lewis."

Aurélien chuckled, shaking his head as he continued to his own room. As he closed the door behind him, he couldn't help but wonder what the hell he was getting himself into, but as he fell into bed, his last thought before sleep claimed him was of Zuri's peaceful sleeping face, and he found he didn't mind the complication one bit.

TO BE CONTINUED....

[purplesurveys]

1920

When’s the last time you ate bread? I had a Big Mac last night.

What’s the last movie you watched on your own? I don't really do that anymore; I always ask at least one other person to watch with me – usually my sister.

What about the last movie you watched with another person? Ready or Not, with my sister and cousins.

How many coats do you own? Zero. I don't need them + haven't been to a country cold enough to need coats.

What about shoes? I probably have around ten pairs. I say 'probably' because I'm never sure about this and because I only wear the same two, haha.

One word to describe your most recent ex? Narcissistic.

Where, in your current country, would you like to live, other than where you do now? I had a dream a few nights ago that I retired in Bulacan and lived a quiet rest of my life there, with my own tiny home and a garden. I felt oddly at peace when I was dreaming that...I don't know if that's my brain trying to tell me something or if it's just meant to be a random dream. That said, it would be nice, but maybe in another universe.

Do you like snow? I think I would. I've never seen or touched it before.

Do you like sheer clothing? Not a fan.

Have you ever seen anyone famous in the street? I was at the mall the same time as Greyson Chance - that's the most random encounter I've had. Every other celebrity I've crossed paths with was expected since they've all been for work. Just this evening I was part of a courtesy call for one of our Olympian athletes.

Are you hungry right now? Continued from Thursday. I'm actually not, even though it's 3 AM. I had a very heavy dinner that I'm still feeling, lol.

Are you regularly tired? Yeah, pretty much. I have a bad habit of sleeping late even though I constantly need to wake up early for work.

What was the last thing to upset you? Just work stuff as usual...with Trina resigning for good and having no immediate replacement, I no longer have a work superior per se and all the tasks that she would normally have to approve and decide on have fallen on me, even though that crap is way out of my job description. It's all just very overwhelming and I wish people would stop looking to me for solutions because I do not fucking have them.

How’s the weather been today? It rained really hard this morning, then was humid the rest of the day. 

What was the first tattoo you got or what would be the first tattoo you’ll get? Pawprints of all my pets.

What was the last store you went into and did you buy anything? I rarely go into stores because truth be told all I ever spend on are food and my subscriptions haha. If I had to guess, probably a Miniso? Didn't buy anything though.

Have you ever been late for school or work? Last Thursday I set a new record for being irresponsibly late - woke up at 9:56 AM. I still feel gross about it and probably always will. It's a miracle no one had been looking for me.

What is your favorite kind of fruit cobbler? No thanks!

Is there a basement in your house? If so, what is it used for? We do not.

Have you driven a car today? I haven't in two weeks, no :( We're having my car done for a major maintenance thing so I had to let go for it a while. For the most part I've been able to manage but the shitty aftereffect is how much it's been draining my wallet because I've had to Grab everywhere lol.

Do you have a small, medium or large bedroom? I would say it's small, but it does a good job feeling medium since I have a loft bed and I have space everywhere below.

Where was your first job and how old were you? PR associate, I was 22.

Have you eaten soup this week? Nope.

Are you a fan of The Office? Not so much. I started with Season 1 and I didn't hate it, but I also couldn't hold my interest long enough to watch the rest of the eps.

When was the last time you started a new medication? Was never on anything I've had to take regularly.

What is your favorite type of nut? Almond.

Do you know anyone who doesn’t have a middle name? No.

Have you put your phone on silent today? Yes. I cannot stand the stupid Viber notification sound (aka the national messaging platform of PH corporate).

Can you name all 50 US state capital cities? Not at all. I can't even name all 50 states and always forget anywhere between like 8-15.

Do you read John Green novels? I've read a few but I don't follow his works.

Have you ever been to Universal Studios? Yes, the one in Singapore.

Can you tie balloons? Nope.

When was the last time you were at a pet store? I don't enter pet stores.

[dokifluffs]

You’re Safe | Sakusa Kiyoomi

Pairing: Kiyoomi X Reader (female) 

Genre: MAFIA!AU, dad and husbando tehe, fluffy, action? thriller??

Author’s Note: mafia 🤝 protective 🤝 domestic father figure 🤝 SAKUSA

Warnings: k*lling, blood, vivid imagery, LONG, language

gif from @rivaillerose​ 🖤

“Y/N,” a husky voice spoke your name, pulling you from your much needed rest as life of being a new mother had been challenging though so far, it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle

“Y/N, darling.”

You groaned in your sleep, not wanting to wake, to leave the warmth that you were so comfortable laying in

The edge of the bed shifted as a weight sat down beside you, making your body move toward the person

You brought yourself to open your eyes as heavy as they were, your vision clearing to find your husband sat beside you, his mask pulled down to his chin

The room was gloomy and gray though the curtains were open, not a bit of sunlight shining through as he looked down to you with gentle eyes

Despite his softer side with you, he was still the head of the clan - and his appearance matched him as well

He donned a black wool overcoat with the same colored turtleneck and mask

“What is it, Omi?” You asked sleepily as he cupped your cheek with his black gloved hand

His black gloves were always an accessory he had on him, whether he was wearing them or not

He had a thing with germs but he also saw no need to get his hands dirty when his men were always there to do the job for him

You nuzzled your face into his touch, very tempted to fall asleep holding him close but as your mind woke up more and more, you remembered what today was

What he had to do, where he had to go

“I’m leaving soon.. I’ll be back in a few days..” he whispered as he moved a strand of your hair from your face

You wanted to pretend you didn’t hear these words, that he never told you he had to leave or when he did

A part of you wished he left without telling you but an even greater part was so grateful that he woke you

“Do you really have to go again?” You squeezed his gloved hand as you sat yourself up straighter

“You know how my father is... He wants to make sure things are... under control.. I promise I’ll be back in two days.”

The way he spoke, the words fell so effortlessly from those lips, his voice low and cutting through the space yet he spoke at a volume as if he was telling you a great secret

“You said that last time and he kept you with him for a couple weeks...” you thought back to that time

You were seven months pregnant, almost eight, at the time and it was like he fell off the face of the earth

You couldn’t go anywhere or do anything but reside in the manor and you couldn’t even talk to him

You were alone again

“Don’t go...”

the nights in bed alone, the cramps, emotional rollercoasters, motion sickness, nausea

You at least wished he could have called you

The nightmares you had, the worst case scenarios playing in your head until you woke up with tears streaming down your face, only for you to cry yourself silently back to sleep as fear pooled and plagued you from within

He could see the sadness in your eyes and he could remember vividly the mental torture he was put under

No communication to you and all he could at most to see you was through the hidden cameras all connected to his phone  

Even checking in on you had to be done in secret, all to make sure that he was strong enough to continue on the family business even if he had to lose you or be away for unpredictable amounts of time

It was unbearable then and it was still unbearable now

He never asked to grow up into the business of the underworld, let alone take it over from his father at the prime age of 20 four years ago

He never wanted your life to be taken away when you two had already been together when he was recruited

“I’m sorry, darling, but you know I have to,” he sighed. “You know how my father is.” He cupped your cheek and kissed your temple then lips before he stood

“Am I going to lose you?” Your voice broke the silence, breaking through the white sound of the downpour outside

But you had stopped your question early

“Am I going to lose you today? Tomorrow? One day?”

He stood frozen in his place before he could reach for the knob

“No, Y/N. You won’t.” His eyes paused for a bit on you as he thought about his response, the fatigue of being a mother was already showing. “I’ll be able to call you this time and I’m the head now. The only title my father has to me now is father.”

“You won’t.” He stepped back over to you leaned down to kiss you again. “Not today at least…”

“I’ll call you at supper time, darling. Have a good day.”

You did your best to hold onto his hand as long as you could, to remember his touch, his voice, his scent, the way he looked before he walked out those doors

Because some days or nights, you never truly know if you would ever see him again

And it terrified you

The sound of the rain only seemed to get more intense now that he was gone and you were here

But now your day was beginning now that you were awake

You slipped out of the king sized bed, leaving the warmth you had slept in as the soft carpet at your feet, your toes sinking into the fibers

Brushing your teeth, showering in the grand bathroom of the manor, it was a life you surely never expected but here you were

Kiyoomi’s father and his entire family had built their name from nothing to the global known corporation that it was today

You dried your body off, finding what to wear today through the walk in closet and once that was found, it was breakfast

“Good morning, madam, shall I bring you your breakfast to the master suite?” Your right hand maid had greeted you as you stepped out as she carried the laundry with her

“Oh, thank you, Olivia, but I’ll head down to the kitchen after waking D/N,” you smiled to the older maid that had worked for the Sakusa family for decades

All the staff that worked and lived in the estates on the property outside of the manor were trained security, men and women, whose jobs were to protect the main family, to serve them, and to keep others who would pose a threat away and out, even if it meant killing them

But you always tried not to think or wonder about how many people these staff have killed or beat up or anything whenever you interacted with them, especially when they greeted you with a smile

They were there to protect you and to make sure that nothing and no would would ever harm your life

You stepped into the nursery, the wide room decorated with warm lights and stuffed animals, some more than twice the size of your daughter

“Hi,” you smiled so brightly seeing your baby’s eyes already open, looking up to you as she sat in her crib, holding onto her blankie. “Good morning precious,” you lowered the front gate of the crib so you could kneel down to her level

Sakusa sat in the limousine as he watched the scene of you and your daughter in the nursery, wishing he could just turn the car around and to stay home

Things were in balance, he knew this already but his father’s orders were orders he still had to respect

He clicked off his phone, tucking the device into his pocket as he was to be in the car for quite a bit of time before he would get to his father’s

The biggest smile spread on her face as she laughed seeing you, her bubbliness seeming to make all the gloominess disappear

“Let’s get you changed~” you chimed as you lifted the baby girl into your arms, getting a whiff of her heavy diaper and finding an outfit for her day 

“Olivia?” You called into the custom intercom by the nursery’s closet, though there was practically one in every room

“Yes, madam?”

“Sorry for troubling you, but could you actually bring breakfast for D/N and I up to the upstairs loft? You could even send it up the dumbwaiter and that’s fine too.”

“Of course, would you like the usual?”

“Yes please, thank you.”

You carried your little girl toward the upstairs loft, one of your favorite areas of the house since it was significantly smaller - well almost - than the living room downstairs

The loft didn’t extend all the way downstairs like how the ground floor’s living room ceiling extended to the second floor

More than ten thousand square feet of property, more rooms in the manor than you knew what to do with them

Four guest bedrooms with full bathrooms, a grand study and two story “little” library, two main bedrooms in addition to the master bedroom and a nursery

So much space, all sorts of technologies, gadgets and gizmos of all sorts in the house

All the systems in the house was made by the Sakusa corporation to ensure security

This even included your and Kiyoomi’s custom made phones

There was also the basement- all sorts of fun activities to be done: a pool, pool table, living room area that opened up to the backyard with the bar and barbecue, the fire pit

and finally, there was the cellar that was the only place Kiyoomi had requested that you never go - and you never did 

You knew that look in his eye, that tone of voice and you knew he had requested this for your best

And most importantly, there were three safe rooms, all three upstairs with hidden entryways to protect you, official guests, and anyone in the family

Before you knew it, Olivia had made her way upstairs with the breakfast as you played with your daughter in the loft, bouncing her on your lap sat on the wide couch

The loft was brightly lit and open, toys of all types for your daughter to play with as the TV played the morning kids show

As filled as the house was with the special staff and things to do, it still felt so lonely and empty as you sat there

You had tried to chat and converse with them but they never loosened up, always keeping all the formalities but it was never any use

The storm outside seemed to be getting worse as your eyes gazed to the horizon, spotting the trees at the edge of the estate where all their branches had been swaying in the wind, the paler, underside of their leaves revealed

Thunder began to rumble in the distance with the occasional flash of lightning but both unbothered your daughter and you as the two of you remained in the loft  

You watched as she rolled about on a blanket, playing with her stuffed animals and the other interactive toys that played music to keep her entertained while you watched the TV, finding nothing remotely as entertaining to watch

But just before you could change the channel to yet another disappointing channel, your attention was pulled to your phone vibrating beside you, your eyes lighting up as you saw the caller ID

“You seem so bored,” Kiyoomi’s deep voice sounded through the phone but he spoke the truth

You were tired and bored but you didn’t want to sleep - it would only make you unable to sleep later tonight anyways

“I am,” you sighed as you muted the TV. “How far out have you gone?”

“Actually, not too far. Only about half an hour since there was a major accident on the highway so we had to take a detour. But traffic is terrible so we were stuck for quite a bit before we could actually exit,” Sakusa almost groaned thinking about the terrible accident

How he was stuck in a single place for practically twenty minutes

“Wow, do you know what happened?”

“Well there was a…” his voice drowned out in your ears as you could hear something that didn’t sound like rain or thunder - they were too distinctly different

Loud bangs echoed in the distance, bringing your attention elsewhere though all you could look was outside the wall window to the dark skies  

But you couldn’t see anything except the normal background of the property but it was just silent again with the white noise of rain washing down the glass, followed by thunder and a flash of lightning as the storm brewed closer and closer

“I’m sorry what? I missed what you said... I think I heard… something weird..” you spoke as you looked outside the windows that looked to the back of the property

You could hear echoes of movement downstairs, the bustling business of the special staff in the house but it sounded standard... or so you thought

“What did you hear?”

“..I don’t know.. maybe it was the storm and I’m just distracted...” you smiled into the phone as you spoke while your daughter happily crawled to you, laying her head on your legs, her puffy cheeks round as ever

“Well, you two were my only source of entertainment so far this trip,” the corner of his lips curled as he picked off small specks off his suit

“That makes one… of us-“ your thought died out in a matter of seconds

You heard louder, clearer bangs while the staff that had been stationed with you just outside the loft talked over their ear coms to another elsewhere

Before you could continue your sentence or call, the bangs only got louder and your body reacted faster than you could say or think

Clear gunshots began firing at the front entrance, echoing off the high walls and ceilings of the manor while the staff worked on securing the doors and all other entrances and possible ones

“Y/N?” Sakusa could only hear the subtle commotion happening but it was clear you weren’t on the phone. “Shit shit shit..” he stayed on the line as he changed to the security cameras he had access to he used to watch you and your guys’ daughter

Looking through the camera surveillance, he caught a glimpse of you disappearing with your phone in hand while your arms carried your daughter as you disappeared toward the bedroom

“Turn back now,” Kiyoomi howled as his driver did just that, not wasting a single second

You ran into the master suite’s walk in closet that led to the entryway of one of the safe rooms, your baby girl in your arms as she held on to you  her whines already beginning before they would turn into cries

“Shh, it’s okay, baby, mama’s gonna protect you,” you smiled, whispering, your voice already shaky, lips trembling as you pressed a little kiss to the top of her head. “Even if it costs my life, precious.”

You moved, leaving the master suite and stayed low as you walked across the “bridge” that connected the loft to the other half of the house

Peeking down, you could hear groans of agony, puddles and splashes of of blood on the floor and walls, empty bullet shells on the ground, shards of glass and broken windows

“Search the house, find that bitch,” a deep voice yelled through the manor as for the first time since the loud bangs happened, it sounded so still, like any normal rainy day

But this was far from normal

You crawled across the marble flooring toward the library

There wasn’t any safe room here but the safe rooms were sure to be where they would look, whoever they were

They were able to get through the security, it seemed like the staff was dead

You silently stood as they scoured the lower levels - you could hear them and all the destruction they were havocking

The cars outside the window blurred into mere colors that passed as the limousine sped through the roads back towards the manor

To save time, they went toward the back roads — it was just the slightest bit longer but time could be shaved down since there were no cars anywhere

“Step on it!” Sakusa commanded as his men readied themselves. “Call in Unit 0,” he demanded as he kept his eyes on the cameras, trying to find you yet he couldn’t see you in the master suite’s safe room

Unit 0 being one of the few very highly trained professional assassins and killers who were at the disposal of the Sakusa family whenever needed

He scoured through the cameras, not even caring about all the destruction being done, all he needed to see was where you and your daughter were

You carefully entered the library, shutting the door behind you as you walked over the wooden floors carefully

Every step made your palms sweaty but your heart stopped after hearing a loud creak in the old floors

The worst part was that there was no way to lock the doors

outside of the door, you couldn’t hear too much but you could still clearly hear the storm as a great big window stretched from the floor to ceiling so all the lighting in here was natural

There was something about the walls surrounding the library that made it sound proof in a sense

You constantly bounced your baby girl in your arms to keep her calm as you tried to get a look outside as you approached one of the corners toward the window

“Search upstairs,” one of the men demanded as a handful of men ran upstairs. “Find her.”

The scoured through all the rooms, flipping every room apart, destroying things, tearing the curtains off, flipping the beds, wrecking the nursery

You peeked out the window that faced the front of the manor yet all you could see were broken things and to your horror, more lifeless bodies of the manor’s staff

But before you could look out any longer, a large rock was launched at the window, breaking the glass, shattering it

Your baby girl let out a loud cry in fear, making your heart drop

“No, D/N, shhhh, please, it’ll be okay, we’ll be okay.” You quickly pulled open the latch to the library’s hidden passage where the door was one of the bookcases

As soon as you closed the bookcase, you heard the door to the library burst open

Several men, guns ready

You scanned your finger print for the room to be safely locked however it wouldn’t let you. All you could do to make sure the room was locked was to see your body to keep the door shut and still

They walked through the wide open doorway to the library scanning the two open floors that was connected by two black steel staircases that wound their way up and down, connecting the two floors

“Shh, please,” you whimpered to your daughter as she cried into your chest as you stayed by the passage’s door so you could look out the peephole

They pulled books off the shelves, throwing them from the second level to the first, knocking the paintings off the walls, ripping them by sliding their knives through the canvas’, kicking them, breaking the frames

The ground shook as you heard a a loud boom, making you jump in your spot, the ground rumbling and shaking below where you sat

It sounded like a bomb went off on the lower level but you assumed it was the cars in the garage since you could hear the repeating alarm sounding off

Your daughters cries began to start back up at the loud noise, as you did your best to shush her

“Shhh, it’s okay,” you whispered to her as you wiped her tears, keeping her face to your chest as you stroked your trembling hand down her back as tears trickled down your cheeks and dripped off your chin

The limousine slid on the gravel outside the manor as Sakusa’s men sprang to action from the vehicle

Kiyoomi stayed in his seat, continuously scouring through the cameras but you were yet to be found

He couldn’t find a single trace of you

His men, as well as unit 0, entered through the blown open entrance, broken shards of glass crunching beneath their steps as they surrounded the estate the best they could, splitting up to eliminate the intruders

“Where are you, Y/N?” His heart hammered in his chest as he desperately tried to find you yet nothing

But before he could look any further, his heart dropped seeing the red system failure message. Whoever these people were, they were impressive, but not fast enough

Kiyoomi now meant business now that he had no access to actually see if you were okay

He ran out of the limousine as gunshots could be heard all throughout the house as half his men made their way to the upper level while the other half wiped out the intruders on the lower level

He followed behind unit 0, making their way upstairs

He clung onto his gun tightly in his hand, finger ready on the trigger as he barged into the master suite, firing two bullets into the chest and head of a large man as he was pillaging the closets

All the precious jewelry he bought for you were now stained in the pool of the filthy blood of the man who had the audacity to enter the premises

His heart almost dropped seeing him in the closet in the first place but it didn’t seem like the man noticed the entrance to the safe room behind the clothes on the hangers

As he pushed the luxurious wardrobe aside opening the door and to his fear, you were nowhere to be seen

More gunshots sounded off, echoing through the halls, sounding off the walls

He couldn’t focus, his thoughts incoherent, unfinished sentences running in his head as he just ran, killing those in his way to find you

A gun war was going off throughout the library as Sakusa’s men fired at the intruders on both levels but they had great firepower too

Both sides hid behind the marble pillars, the different bookshelves and furniture in the room as the rain showered in

Your baby girl cried loudly, her shaken cries sounding off throughout the passage

“No, no, no, please, baby.” Your heart raced as you dared to look out the peephole, only for it to drop as you saw a man you didn’t recognize yell something to another man near him

The man he yelled to fired more shots while the other one approached the passage entrance, banging noises coming through the bookshelf

“She’s in here! Hold them off!” The man yelled

“No, no, no.” Tears welled in your eyes as you did your best to keep the door closed but there was no actual way to since this was just a simple passageway

Your daughter cried loudly in your arms while you gave it your all to keep the door closed

Amongst all the shots being fired, Kiyoomi heard the words the man yelled and then it clicked

He knew where you were

“No.” This one word repeated in his head as he pushed through the front, racing past the bullets being shot towards him as he ran on pure adrenaline

“Boss, no!” His men yelled but this only got the intruders to focus on him, giving them the opening to shoot them all

Kiyoomi shot the man closer to him in the legs before letting his body move on pure killer instinct as he grabbed the man who had fallen to his knees by his jaw, snapping his neck

The other man changed his focus to Kiyoomi as he stood to his feet while the other struggled to pull his gun from his holster

Kiyoomi towered over him as his body moved on his own

He kicked the man to the wall, pressing the barrel of his gun to the man’s chin, pulling the trigger without a second thought

You squeeze your eyes shut, facing the other way from the door, bracing yourself

“I love you. Mama loves you, baby,” you whispered as you cried, a loud rumbling filling your ears as you felt the door being forced open

This was it

You were going to die

Your daughter was doing to die

you let out a blood curtling scream feeling the hands of whoever grab onto you, pulling you, kicking your legs to try to fight 

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Kiyoomi’s familiar voice sounded louder and louder over the rumbling you heard in your ears from clenching and bracing your body and your daughter’s

“It’s me, It’s just me!” He soothed you as he turned you

You couldn’t explain or even begin to describe the relief you felt wash through your body, your heart racing and slowing down at the same time as you broke down, your cries mixing with your daughter’s

“You’re safe, I’m here,” Kiyoomi pulled you into his arms, your body shaking terribly in his arms as you cried into his chest, all the fear you felt flooding your senses

“I know, I’m sorry this happened, but you’re okay. Everything will be okay,” he whispered as he pulled you into his lap, keeping the passage door somewhat closed

You were already put through enough today and he didn’t need you to see the second degree murder crime scene he had committed right outside

“I’m here, I’m here.” He reached up and pulled his mask off as he kissed the top of your head all over, wiping away your tears with his thumbs but you couldn’t stop crying

But that was entirely fine

“But Y/N,” he held your face in his bare hands, his normal gloves off as he stroked his thumb over your cold, damp cheeks

“Why didn’t you go into the safe rooms, darling?” His own voice was unsteady, his lips quivered, eyes teary. “I looked for you and I couldn’t find you and I thought I lost you..” His voice broke off as he gathered himself the best he could, taking deep breaths

Seeing Kiyoomi like this, it broke your heart even more

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what… I was just scared and- and-“ It hurt you so much

Everything about today did

But just this moment was Kiyoomi, it also touched you

He was such a stoic man, usually one to show a softer, affectionate side with you but this was the first time you saw him shed tears

A man who had taken so many lives was now showing his true emotions for the two lives he would give his own live for a hundred times over if it meant you and your daughter was okay

“I know, I know, but you’re safe,” he let out a deep, relieving breath as he hugged your head closer, your body shaking uncontrollably in his arms

“And hey, shhh, it’s okay baby. Papa’s here.” He stroked your daughter’s head as she sort of calmed down as the two of you sat together, doing your best as parents to shoo away her sadness while his men did their best to first and foremost clear the bodies and blood

You absolutely did not need to see that after today

“You two are both safe.” He breathed as he pulled you two impossibly closer, letting the shakiness of his own heart disperse  

“You’re safe…”

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else! 

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[liesoverthec]

OG 911 Character Details from Canon Pt 1

Hi folks! Welcome to my post of character details for fic writers or really anyone who wants to know! All of these details come directly from the show - they’re just things I picked up on watching the show on intense repeat for screen time, so the details are about as canon as they can get. Some of them, like addresses, come from an specific episode, while others are trends I’ve picked up on. If you want a “citation” for a fact let me know and I can provide one if it exists!

I tried to include a good range of information between the 7 main characters, so that it was available for anyone.

I’m going to keep making these posts every time I get enough details collected so you can find them all under “911 canon character details” in the future! I’m committed to rewatching the whole series again for the regulars’ screen time, so I’ll be making more of these posts throughout the summer. If there’s something in particular you’d like to know, let me know and I can keep an eye out for it.

Things I noticed that might be interesting character details, part 1:

Athena and Bobby live at 1810 Fallsgrove St.

Eddie lives at 4995 S Bedford St Apt 403 (Julia made this fantastic post of the layout of Eddie’s house, and I’ve spent my own significant amount of time trying to work it out, so when I say this layout is spot on, I really mean it). (I believe this is more of a duplex situation - ie he has other neighbors attached to his outside walls, but no downstairs or upstairs neighbors.)

(These two locations are 8 minutes apart, which I personally thought was vvvvvv useful if you wanted to have someone rush from one place to another - also makes me think the 118 would be close to that neighborhood.)

Chim and Maddie live in apartment 2B. It’s a one-bedroom apartment, so currently Jee-Yun is sleeping in their room with them. I’ll be curious to know if they move as she gets older or if they magically spring up a bedroom for her - I just know there isn’t one at the moment bc Albert slept on their couch first, and then when he was injured, THEY slept on the couch.

Buck has two bathrooms! There’s one immediately to the left as you walk in his front door, and then one up in the loft, off the platform. Which I thought was a large number of bathrooms for a loft since it’s such a small space, but useful for when Christopher is visiting I suppose...

The hospital they go to for personal stuff is First Presbyterian. They’ve only started featuring its name prominently this season, but it’s the same waiting room and ER they’ve been using since s2, so I’d assume it’s also in the same neighborhood, since it’s fictional.) It’s on Altamont Street.

Given that you can see the Cecil Hotel from Michael’s apartment, I’d assume he either lives on S Spring St or S Los Angeles St. Either way he’s about twice as far from Athena and Bobby as Eddie is, and in the opposite direction.

Alcohol preferences - Athena prefers white wine, but will also drink rose and red, Hen drinks red and beer but doesn’t do it socially as much as everyone else, Chim is p much strictly beer unless it’s a fancy dinner (or tequila if he really wants to get drunk), Maddie prefers white wine, Buck drinks beer or white wine, and Eddie is a beer dude, red wine if it’s a fancy occasion (this is what they choose if they have a choice like at a bar, or if they’re hosting - eg when Athena hosts, EVERYONE drinks white because that’s what she’d choose.)

Eddie does not have the Hildy coffee maker on his kitchen counter - he still has an older model that only makes coffee.

He also likes to decorate in the color turquoise! (Maybe Shannon liked turquoise so that’s what he tends to buy?? That’s your decision, there’s just a lot of it in his kitchen. Also, his laptop case is turquoise!)

Hen gets a new pair of glasses every year. (Which means she’s doing better than me, I only get a new pair when I lose the old ones 😂)

Athena has two big diamond rings, and she wears one on each of her ring fingers (Bobby has good taste). She does not wear her rings while working.

Bobby has a gold wedding band for home, and wears a black silicone ring at work.

Hen wears her wedding ring all the time, and it’s a plain silver band.

Eddie had a gold wedding band while he was married to Shannon, and he wore it while on active duty in the Army (even during the helicopter crash). He is wearing it after Shannon leaves, but he takes it off before he comes to LA. His St. Christopher’s medal is silver with a navy border, hanging on a silver chain.

Chim prefers the short sleeve uniform. He really never wears the long sleeved one.

Eddie likes soft jazz, and will play it in the background during dinner. Idk if it’s his favorite type of music, but he likes it enough to put it on.

Buck has a picture of the ocean (I think? it’s definitely some sort of landscape) in his work locker - no other photos currently. Eddie has also been seen using this same locker.

Everyone has an iPhone and if they have a computer, it’s a Mac (this one is just bc capitalism - the show is sponsored by Apple). Hen has a red phone case, and Maddie has a navy one with gold trim, everyone else’s is super boring black/navy.

Maddie’s contact for Chim is “Howie” in her phone.

In Eddie’s phone, his contact for Buck is just “Buck”.

Bobby is just “Bobby” in Buck’s phone.

Christopher’s current interests are space and dinosaurs. And gaming!

In addition to Eddie and Albert, Chim also seems to like baseball, going off the jersey on his wall.

Every time we’ve seen Buck and Eddie drive somewhere together, Buck has driven and Eddie took the passenger seat.

Both Eddie and the Wilsons have a fireplace in their living room with framed photos of their kids at various ages.

Karen is a doctor! It’s a PhD, so she couldn’t join the team as a medic, but it does make them the future Drs Wilson. Her specialization is something to do w/ physics or chemistry etc, b/c she worked on a project for JPL on Mars, so you can run with that.

Michael is an architect, and David is a neurosurgeon who can help with emergency medicine.

Work masks: Bobby, Maddie and Athena prefer masks with a loop over each ear, while Eddie, Chim, Buck and Hen use the ones with two straps behind the head. Everyone uses the two ear loop ones for personal time.

Buck sleeps with socks on.

I hope the start to this list met up to your expectations, but if you’re looking for more then it will be on the way soon! I just wanted to get this first set out (plus it was looking a little long in my drafts 😂)

Lots of love!

🐝

Tagging: @imaginebuck

[neoheros]

moving in — seijoh 4 x gn! reader

it’s been exactly two weeks since you’ve made the decision of moving in with your best friends, and so far, everything’s been a bit better than you expected.

when the idea was first pitched to you, you admit, you thought it was a very poorly written out joke shared over a few beers and the pitiful nostalgia of graduating— you were wrong.

they were alarmingly serious about this.

“just a few months ‘til we all head off for college.” hanamaki told you, his arm casually over your shoulder and you’ve known him long enough to know that pushing him off is futile.

“then do it without me.” you said, a lazy smile on your face as you continued to walk. “i’ll visit literally every day.”

“no, you won’t,” matsukawa said, his words laced with a soft chuckle, “you don’t ever go anywhere without being physically dragged off.”

“you don’t understand,” you smiled, “i have such a lovely room.”

iwaizumi fell next to you, his voice blunt, “you can have the biggest room.”

“that’s not entirely better.” you shrugged.

“at least think about it,” oikawa told you, his charming smile coating his tone and you found a bit of warmth in the reserved gaze you realize he only had for you, “for me.”

“as if that’s the selling point, shittykawa!”

“i am always the selling point, iwa-chan!”

you ignored their usual banter, moving away from the four as you quickened your steps and you sighed. “i’ll think about it.”

you don’t miss the shared grins they all give each other, knowing you well enough to understand that they’ve successfully wore you down and before you knew it, you were signing a lease to a four bedroom loft that you were lucky enough to afford.

it didn’t feel weird or anything, you’ve known these guys since forever and more, really the only problem you’ve had with this was the fact that you knew how much of a slob they’d all be to live with — not that you were any better — but hey, surely you were neater than four sweaty athletes.

which brings you to where you are now; just a few weeks after graduating from aoba johsai and barely even a few days since getting comfortable in your new temporary apartment.

you figured it was better than you expected.

hanamaki’s nice to keep around. he’s almost always just lounging in front of the tv, sometimes a controller in his hands, most of the time, his fingers running through his short trimmed hair as he shifts over numerous college application essays.

you’ve found yourself waking up at three am a few times to get yourself a cup of water only to see him to have fallen asleep on the coffee table with folders and envelopes around him.

sometimes you’d sit with him, sometimes you’d wake him up to help him trudge to his bed. either way, he’d always end up pulling your head close, giving you a quick kiss on the temple as he sleepily mumbles something along the lines of “thank you” or “good night”.

iwaizumi’s somewhat the same; buried in college prep and sorting through plane tickets as he made the ever so impressive decision to take his future abroad. you’d told him numerous times how proud he made you and he’d always give you back the warm grin he seemed to have reserved just for you.

he isn’t the last one you see off to bed, but he’s always the first to get up in the morning. no matter what time you wake up, he’s already there in the kitchen brewing a pot of coffee (much to your dismay since his blend is a tad bit bitter to your liking but you’ve never had the heart to tell him that).

(though truth be told, ever since iwaizumi found out you woke up at the crack of dawn, he’d begrudgingly fallen into the habit of waking up before you just so he could make you coffee before seeing you off for the day.

he hates waking up that early.

but he does like the smile you give him when you walk out the door.)

you spend the most time with matsukawa. his schedule was freer than the rest of the boys so if you ever needed to go anywhere, he’d already be there to insist that he came with you.

he’d pick you up from your day job, a lazy grin encasing his face the minute he sees you from the car window— you looked tired, worn out from the ruthless retail, and though he couldn’t say that to your face, he sure is glad he’d have an excuse to take you for coffee before heading home.

oikawa’s the busiest. his taxing schedule now so much worse after his decision to go to argentina. (you told him you’d miss him, he told you you didn’t have to, and begged you to try and fit in his luggage.) all that aside, you barely got to see him; you’d wake up finding him already gone for the day, and come home to him passed out on the couch.

some nights he’d come home later than you, too tired to know which is left or right, and more than once, he’d end up in your room, clocking out the second he crashes on your bed.

you don’t push him off, you never had the heart to. you missed him. not that you’d ever say it to his face, but he hasn’t even left for college and you were already missing him.

it’s a sunday morning— one of the few times a week all of you had a free day, and normally you’d all just end up sleeping in, most days you’d get up and enjoy breakfast with the other four, but when the bed felt too warm and too peaceful, you’d rather just waste the day away in your room.

a pair of arms pull you out of your sleep, your head softly falling against someone’s chest and you blink— you went to bed alone last night.

“what the hell, shittykawa!” you yell, sitting up and pushing him off of you.

oikawa groans, having just been brutally woken up, he pouts, “... you spend too much time with iwa-chan, you sound exactly like him.”

“go sleep in your own room!”

“but — you have the softest bed!”

“no?” matsukawa says, leaning on your door frame looking like he’d just woken up. his voice is groggy, almost annoyed, “i have the softest bed.”

oikawa pushes you away, ignoring your groans as he laid back on your mattress and he says, smile wide, “that’s not true— feel this.”

matsukawa narrows his eyes, walking up to him without even acknowledging your constant complaints of ‘no! do not feel this, go away!’

he sits on the edge of your bed, taking a second before falling on his back and taking in your white comforters.

“what the fuck?” he says, “what the hell, why do you have the softest bed?”

“because i’m me.” you tell them both, rolling your eyes as you realize that you probably won’t be getting your bed back anytime soon.

hanamaki walks in barely a moment later, his hand tiredly rubbing his left eye as he yawns away the last of his sleep.

he blinks, unsure what to make out of the scene in front of him. matsukawa and oikawa pulled on your duvet, pushing each other off every second as they fought on who got a bigger part of the blanket, and you, well — you had your head propped up on your headboard, muttering under your breath as you tried to push the two off your mattress.

“what’s going on?” he asks, a smile already forming on his face as he recognized the early morning chatter.

you look up, eyes brightening at the sight of hanamaki, he was going to help you.

“makki! my love!” you yelped, “get them out of my room, please.”

“no. makki will not.” matsukawa grins, “did you know this is the softest bed in the apartment?”

hanamaki frowns, “i have the softest bed in the apartment.”

oikawa grins, “feel this!”

you take it back. oikawa tooru might not make it to argentina after all, not when you were going to kill him in cold blood after this.

before you could even protest, oikawa pushes you more to the side, clearing some space for hanamaki who (so traitorously) plopped down on his side beside you.

“what the fuck,” he says, eyes widening as he moved around for a more comfortable position.

matsukawa nods, “that’s what i said too.”

“why do you have the softest bed?” oikawa groans, “we’re the ones who play volleyball— we’re basically sore all the time.”

you blink, “i was sleeping.”

they ignore you.

“you want the bed?” you ask, getting up from your mattress, and you glare. “fine. keep it.”

“wait, we were just joki—”

you ignore what they were going to say, slamming your door on your way out, and you curse under your breath every step of the way to the room right across from yours.

iwaizumi’s room. somewhere cold, peaceful, quiet. you ought to remind him to keep his door locked, but right now, as you stood by his doorway, drowsy and almost desperate to go back to sleep, you’re thankful he doesn’t.

you don’t say another word, walking directly up to his bedside and plopping down on the open space next to him.

he stirs, and you take his movement with a sigh.

“move.” you tell him, a pillow in hand and he looks up at you with sleep plastered on his face.

iwaizumi does as you say, moving deeper into his side and he yawns, “what’re you doing?”

“we are going to sleep.” you tell him, snuggling deeper in his covers as you got yourself comfortable.

you look at him, “unless you want to join those three idiots outside.”

iwaizumi ignores the warmth coming up on his face, pushing his pulsing heart aside, he shrugs, throwing an arm over you, and he mutters, “not even gonna ask what happened.”

(you fall back asleep quick after that, but that doesn’t last long as iwaizumi’s door opens again, oikawa going on and on with complaints about how iwaizumi was obviously your favorite, matsukawa barely caring as he pushes past him and just crashes in between you both and hanamaki declaring a dog pile as he so ruthlessly jumps on top of you.

it was horrible.

you wouldn’t have it any other way with them.)

[cryptiql]

riptide

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, some mildly suggestive flashbacks + detailed descriptions of drowning. as always, please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 4.9k

a/n: welcome to the sequel of smoke signals. perish :)

dabi made a mistake. the knowledge sits in the bottom of his stomach like a lump of lead; his innards twisting into a knot whenever the memory of you crosses the expanse of his sleep deprived mind. the burns under his eyes might as well be bags, but they aren't large enough to bear the weight of his guilt. it isn't much better sitting on his shoulders, but the repercussions of pain are what keep him from letting it go, and that's exactly what he wants. no—it's what he deserves. he deserves the feeling like his head is going to burst; the ache in his spine from too many hours spent hunched over himself with a bottle clutched between his shaking hands; the burning intensity from overuse of his quirk. the extra inches of marred skin serve as reminders of what he did, but it's not half as satisfying when the pain doesn't last.

he wants to scratch at the wounds until they ooze that bitter garnet liquid; until he's suffocated by the metallic scent and forced to endure as the taste of blood engraves itself on his tongue when he chokes on it. he wants to suffer—the slower the better—because not even the strongest alcohol can cleanse his sins, nor the stench of his regret.

dabi made a mistake. it won't be the last time, he's able to admit, because his ego is too shriveled from the lack of your warmth, and his heart yearns for the passion of your kiss that still lingers on his lips. when the loft echoes with fragments of the city's ambience, drowning him in an incessant racket, he longs for the lighthouse. this place is infested with selfish ingrates, scuttling about in search of the next outcast to torment, and it makes him wish he still had that safe space at the shore. your siren song was a drug to put him at ease, and now he is without it, and the withdrawal has taken effect.

he knew this would come to pass. dabi overdosed on your love; your affection; your everything; all while watching the consequences unravel at a snail's pace, almost as if he were being teased by the inevitable end. he let it happen. he did this to himself, so he won't shake his hands at the sky, cursing gods he doesn't know exist; as if they would concern themselves with the faults of men like him.

he knew this would happen.

but then, so did you. you had to have known by the empty space in your bed where he used to lay; by the dates that kept getting postponed and the meaningless promises made to make up for them; by the shortage of visits, even just to say "hello" before he dropped from the face of the earth once more. if this were true, it meant that you were suffering just the same—nay, more than him, by forcing yourself into a state of compliance whenever he told you it was time for him to go. dabi could pretend like he didn't see your fingers twitching; resisting the urge to reach out for him; just as he could pretend like the rivulets of tears on your cheeks did not exist, though they begged to be swept away by him. god, he wants to hold your face again, noses brushing together and your dreamy sighs melding with his raspy laughter.

he had told himself that you wouldn't deter him from his goal, but even that seems like a pipe dream now. he feels like an underachiever, chasing a future that can't be set in stone when he already had you, which should have been enough. dabi realizes that the flames of his own passionate desire for freedom have burned you in the process, and it hurts more than he can put into words. you were always better with words, he reminisces, tracing the coffee stained parchment sitting in his pocket.

dabi has long since stopped reading the letters you sent, but he still carries them with him wherever he goes. they anchor him to both earth and sky; the reality that he's lost you, threatening to swallow him from under his feet; and the hope that he'll find you again, one day, after all this is over. "and just what do you think you're doing?"

you can see his reflection in the stove's glass sheen, his mouth drawn up into a devious smirk as he leans on the bedroom doorframe, clad in nothing but his briefs from the previous night. the purplish burns scaling his collarbone and abdomen give him a roguish look that—if you possessed no self-restraint—would normally have you lunging at him like a starved beast. you manage to smirk back at him, subtly shaking your hips while opening the stove door to pull out the doughy mound of bread inside. to your delight, you hear him grumble something not-so family-friendly before he snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. you had never once thought that the feeling of staples against your skin would feel so good, but now you can hardly imagine being without it, and you immediately melt into dabi's touch.

he breathes softly in your ear, chuckling when you flinch in response, goosebumps stippling your flesh. by the way your cheeks puff out in embarrassment, he should take that as a sign to stop, but fuck, your pouting is just too cute for him to resist, especially when your worship-able body is basking in the afterglow of dusk. you keen when dabi starts peppering your shoulder blades with kisses, but nearly dropping the pan causes your senses to return, and you whisper a plea. luckily, he appears to be in a merciful mood, because he relents his onslaught of affection to rest his chin in the crook of your neck.

when he finally notices what you're making, he can't help but squeeze you tighter.

"is that a cake?"

you turn to give him a peck on the nose, which is rewarded with a halfhearted snap of his teeth just millimeters from your mouth.

"that'd be right. though, i'm astonished you know which way is up after last night." your sing-song tone of voice spurs him to squeeze your thigh, and you would have shooed him away if not for how much you liked it. dabi murmurs something unintelligible, the vibrations shooting straight down your spine, and proceeds to remove himself from you in order to better observe the baked delicacy.

"mm. what's it for?" he asks, discretely swiping a bit of the pink colored icing from the bowl to his right. sweet, but not sickeningly so.

you are none the wiser when dipping a spatula into the contents and smoothing it over the cake, a soft smile playing at your lips.

"you never told me when your birthday is, so i'm taking a wild guess. figured i'd whip this up as a surprise, but you woke up earlier than i suspected." dabi swears that his heart is about to burst from behind his ribcage, and all because you're too goddamn perfect. you may as well be a priceless work of art in museum that he's been prohibited from touching. however, the fading marks on your skin signify that he's done more than just touch, and he takes pride in the fact you can't seem to move further than two steps in any direction without faltering.

"i know angel food cake is your favorite—" dabi silences you with a kiss; bruising and passionate; and takes the spatula from your hand, blindly setting it aside on the counter. your protests are short-winded as he lifts you from your behind before promptly turning the oven off and spinning on his heel. he's memorized these halls well enough to not bump into anything during his trek back to the bedroom. you pull away, albeit with a hint of reluctance, just to glare at him.

"what about the—" dabi kisses you again, and while you don't seem too happy about being interrupted twice in a row, the shared heat between your bodies distracts you from being upset.

"you're off by about two months, doll. besides, i think i'd much rather have you as a late birthday treat."

dabi clenches his jaw at the memory, his knuckles whitening with how tenaciously he grips the tattered fabric of his jeans. the league's new base is just as rundown and close to crumbling as he feels, but his despair is masked by the rage that overpowers it. why couldn't you have been a normal couple? why couldn't dabi have grown up with a father who loved him; with a quirk that didn't gradually destroy him and without the resulting scars that made him a hideous monster in the eyes of all who saw him? why couldn't he be as beautiful on the inside as you said he was on the outside? why couldn't he just be happy, after all this time?

why? why? why?

dabi finds his answer hidden in the ashen battleground strewn with rubble and remnants of burnt remains. he finds it in the fear of his victims' expressions before the snare of death claims them in a flourish of blue inferno. it's written there in bold, ichor dripping from his fingers as they smear the message with red.

the privilege of living a normal life is, and always will be, beyond his reach. murder does not warrant mercy, and the only person willing to give it to him is miles away, still desperate for him to come back.

as fate would have it, you and dabi lived worlds apart, but you still look at the same sunset; the same array of stars forming constellations that told stories of your life shared together. they replay in his head like a record stuck on repeat, and only when the song ends does he find himself back in the clutches of his childhood trauma, rather than your embrace.

"dabi? dabi!" his trademark scowl automatically takes place when a finger prods and pulls at his cheek, the familiar voice of twice shaking him from his deep contemplation. jin has been so unfortunate as to suffer minor scorches from the ravenette's flames, on account of him being too bothersome at the wrong moments, and so he instantly backs away at the first indication of danger brewing in the air around him. with how on edge he's felt lately, he really should have gone on a walk to relieve some stress, but the looming knowledge that he can't go to the lighthouse would only ruin the trip.

dabi is fully prepared to smack jin's hand away until he sees what he's holding. he'd recognize that handwriting anywhere, and even without it, the scent of saltwater and freshly baked bread clings to the paper, altering him of yet another one of your efforts to communicate with him. dabi feigns indifference towards the object; quite the contrary to his thinning patience as twice waves it above his head excitedly.

"you've got mail! who's is from? probably a useless nobody! or maybe a secret admirer? but who would admire you?"

to his dismay, the commotion has grabbed toga's attention, and she veers over to their location with a giddy grin on her face. she all but drapes herself over dabi as he snatches the letter from jin, and it doesn't help his struggle when she clings to him like a koala. after a bout of kicking and shoving, he manages to break free of her grasp, grimacing at her lengthy, high-pitched whines of disapproval.

"and can you believe hawks was the one to deliver it? i didn't take him for a carrier bird. . ."

dabi doesn't hear the rest, nor does he intent to, because he's already making his way to the nearest exit with haggard breaths. whoever calls out for him and whatever they say are the last of his concerns right now, and they're abruptly cut off when he slams the door behind him. the summer heat wills beads of sweat to paint his forehead, but he soon finds comfort under the shade of a tree, cicadas buzzing noisily overhead. he would sooner keel over and die than thank the birdbrain hero for catering to him—and by extension, you—but now that the note is there, begging to be read, he can't help but feel some sort of gratitude.

"i need you to do something for me."

the bristles of hawks' feather hover over dabi's pulse in a threatening manner, but he feels no more in peril than he would at the cruelty of a baby chick. he knows the number two hero won't harm him, at least not without regretting it later, and this is the perfect time to use that to his advantage. hawks narrows his eyes at him, nose wrinkling in accord.

"why would i do anything for you after that stunt you pulled?" he snarls, and dabi almost has to laugh at the drastic switch in personality. the way he presents himself to the public is a true contrast compared to the persona only he and the league have had the pleasure of seeing.

"because if you don't, everyone will know you've been fraternizing with the enemy, and we wouldn't want number two falling off his high pedestal, now would we?"

this time, dabi audibly laughs when hawks' guise wavers. the other grits his teeth, slowly withdrawing the feather and allowing it to fall limp at his side. he revels in his victory, short though it be, and reaches into his pocket to procure a letter marked with your name and address. putting your location at the disposal of a hero isn't something he's proud of doing, but it's all he has left, and he doesn't have the resolve to tell you directly.

coward, his conscious mocks as he holds it out for hawks to take. the winged man stares at it with befuddlement, his movements stalling here and there when he seizes the paper between his thumb and pointer finger. dabi tuts lightly but menacingly, yanking hawks towards him by the wrist and igniting his quirk to leave a faint mark there.

"you're gonna deliver this for me, no questions asked. don't you dare open it."

despite the clear uncertainty, hawks took heed of the ominous demand and carried it out later that night. he had not expected a young man with tear-stained cheeks to greet him at the door, much less the endless babble of 'thank you's as you took the letter with shaking hands.

dabi hadn't wished for you to send one back, but the ongoing stream of them was considered fair, after he'd left without much of a trace. still, he had promised himself that he would never read them, for fear of it opening the wound inflicted by having to say goodbye.

dabi can't understand the sudden change of mind for the life of him, and yet, he finds that he doesn't care whether it opposes every rule he set to keep you safe—to keep himself safe. he tears open the envelope and slumps against the tree trunk, bark and leather grating together as he hesitantly unfolds the parchment, briefly shutting his eyes as a last act of resistance to the helpless cry from within; longing for the familiarity of your poetic words. instead of the delicate precision that was to be anticipated, dabi stared down at your messy scrawl, a carnal fear rising from within and causing his throat to clamp up. the memories begin to flash at a faster rate, like an old-timey picture film. dabi has just finished putting the kettle on to boil when hears the floorboards creak, followed by the sound of your slippers shuffling across the floor. he snickers, remembering that the only pair you have is the one he bought you; a well worn match that looks oddly like cloud bunnies. you've made sure to exemplify how much you love the gift by wearing them around the house on rainy or lazy days, all paired with a wistful smile. this morning is no different as you worm your way under dabi's hold and press your face into his chest, a satisfied groan escaping you when he cards his fingers through your hair and scratches the scalp.

the robe you wear is half-hanging from your shoulders, which makes for an enticing view from where dabi stands, but he simply kisses the crown of your head and continues waiting for the pot to simmer.

"did you hear that noise?" you slur, just barely discernable over the kettle's shrieking. dabi quirks a brow in question as you rub the leftover grogginess from your eyes, tiredly nodding at the back window.

"little past midnight, i think. coulda sworn i heard somethin' rifling around in the trash." dabi squints at this new information while eyeing your appearance. the dark circles and intermittent yawning indicate a lack of sleep, and if he weren't there to keep you steady, you might collapse onto the floor as a snoring heap. if it really disturbed him, he should have woken me up, he thinks, pulling you closer with an ever-deepening frown. you snuggle up to him as if it's second nature, sleepily giggling away when his digits stray too close to your side.

"s'probably raccoons, but if you're worried, i can stay longer just to make sure." you look up at him with nothing short of pure, unbridled adoration, cupping his face and squishing it gently, to your own entertainment. after a moment of consideration, you shake your head.

"nah, you're probably right."

the feeling hits dabi like a tidal wave, dragging him below the raging surface; far below where the light of day cannot touch. it suffocates him and brings rise to the sickening taste of bile on his tongue, but he doesn't have time to spare in throwing it all up, so he swallows it. withered patches of grass crunch under his feet as he peels himself from the tree and breaks into a dash, sparing your letter the flames fueled by his anguish as to let it drift in the breeze, the single sentence written on it already engraved in his mind.

it wasn't raccoons.

dabi doesn't care what shigaraki will have to say about this when he gets back. the only thing he cares about is that you'll still be alive to say anything to him when he reaches you, and that whoever has invaded your home is willing to die for what they've done, or what they're currently doing, and fuck—he isn't even sure if this is you calling for help or not, but he can't risk being right.

the distance between the base and the lighthouse feels lightyears apart, yet simultaneously at arms length when dabi is running at speeds he hasn't ever been able to achieve before. if he stumbles at any point during his sprint, or if he happens to bump into an unsuspecting civilian on the street, he doesn't notice. the resonant thumping of his own heartbeat is all that he can hear as he thanks the gods for the flow of traffic being so spaced out, otherwise it would be near impossible for him to reach you in time.

in time for what? he has to ask. dabi doesn't even want to think about the repercussions, but the scenarios arrive in rivulets despite the mental trapeze he goes through to push them down, and they only continue to grow into oceans; darker, colder and harboring thoughts too gruesome for even someone of his caliber to handle. he won't realize until much later that he'd forgotten to put on his disguise, but the way people ogle at him with fear and disgust does not suppress the need to protect you.

even now, he can sense the pressure building behind his eyes, though it's more painful that it used to be. dabi hasn't cried in months, and it shows by how unabating the rivers of blood trickle from his skin grafts, despite his feverish attempts to stop them. look at yourself, holding together by a thread and weeping in public like a child whose lost his mother in the crowd. it wouldn't have come to this if he had stayed.

something shifts in the scenery; a distinct line drawn between the city and its neighboring countryside; but it makes no difference to the impending peril that looms ahead. the closer he gets, the sooner he'll find you waiting for him, dead or alive. dabi staggers, his breath hitching at the thought, as well as the harsh sting of pain that erupts when his knee collides with the gravel below. he pushes himself forward in little time, a strangled yell ripping his throat raw as his vision settles on the top of the lighthouse, peeking over the hillside. you have to be there—you just have to. he isn't done with you yet, and you're sure as hell not done with him.

the earth is damp beneath his feet, and it soaks through the canvas of his shoes whilst he darts past the boulevard and onto your property, crying out to you. surely, you must hear him. surely—

dabi practically hurls himself at the front door, his blood running cold when it opens for him effortlessly and swings ajar to reveal the living room, upturned and scattered with broken bits and pieces of furniture. there's no sign of you or whoever did this. the oakwood flooring groans under his weight as he barrels down the hall, peering into every room, beneath your bed and any other place where you could be hiding. nothing. his search ends in vain at the front doorstep, where he stands hunched over and dry heaving. no, no, no. you can't be gone.

"y/n!" he shouts. his only response is the crashing of waves against the shore and the incessant cawing of seagulls. for a moment, dabi forgets how to breathe, and then the ability returns to him; his legs aching horribly as he rushes to the beach. the arrangement of rocks is sporadic at first, but they gradually form large clumps the further he carries on, urging him to squeeze between the narrower openings. it comes with some difficulty, but at last he is able to hobble onto the sandy coast and rest his sights upon the vast sea. he can recall when seeing its murky blue sea would have put him at ease, but now it only causes his senses to be clouded with distress.

"y/n!" the once calm ripples rise into rolling billows that drench the shoreline in frothy heaps of algae, wreckage and blood. it curls and disbands within the ocean to pollute its cerulean hues with ones of scarlet red, and just like that, dabi's heart sinks like the titanic. he'll never forget the sight of you, face-down in the water; your favorite shirt slashed to shreds, clinging to your body as nothing more than a tattered mess. dabi wades into the water until it reaches his ankles, completely numb to its freezing temperature as he sinks down to hoist you up. he rests you on his thighs and presses his lips onto yours with urgency, shortly pulling back so that he can thrust his palms upon your chest and push. he doesn't care to remember how many times he repeats this, but when he finally sits back on his haunches to release a stifled curse, the feeling of dread has only just begun to take control.

you've never looked so pale.

a guttural sob wrenches itself past his grinding teeth as more tears arise, dappling your cheeks like raindrops. it wracks his body and sends forth a surge of agony to course through his veins. dabi cups your face with a shaking hand, the other secured around your waist while he kisses you, his erratic pleas falling upon deaf ears.

"come back. . .come back." his bawling ceases to end, no matter the abrasive pain blossoming in his gullet.

"c'mon, doll. where's that sweet voice of yours?" his thumb strokes your bottom lip as though beckoning you to speak. when nothing follows, he makes a pathetic sniveling sound mixed with something broken; a blubber or whine, he does not know. the burden of your lifeless form causes the reality to set in; a dagger piercing his insides and twisting as to drag the most blood-curdling screams from him.

dabi loved you, and he wishes he had the strength to say it when you were still there. it was only within the presence of his own demons that he was able to utter his affections; curled into himself and waiting for a reply that would never come, carried on the wind that bit his skin. he loved you because you held him like a child when his father hadn't even the heart to acknowledge him as his own. you spoke his name—his real name—as though the blood on his hands was not there; like you had washed it away yourself through acts of tenderness that he did not deserve.

and now you're gone.

you're gone, and—

dabi's entire body jolts with a start, a familiar heat dancing across the grafts of his marred skin. a faint blue glow radiates from his fists, which are tightly fastened the weighted blanket that lays crumpled atop his legs. he lets go with a shuttering gasp, observing the black smudges that reside where his flames once were, then blinking owlishly at his surroundings. the room is shrouded in darkness, all save for the bedside table to the left of him that is dimly lit by a flickering oil lamp. that, and the spaces illuminated by the moon's brilliance, showering the floor with multicolored spots as it glistens through the stained glass window. something slots into place, but all it does is send dabi's mind into overdrive.

where is he? where are you? are you really dead? everything hurts.

his nails drag down the length of his arms, seeking some sort of comfort in the pain that blooms there. it doesn't last long, however, when the bed suddenly dips, and a soothing warmth is placed on the small of his back.

"touya?" you croak, your words lingering with the remnants of sleep. dabi—no—touya, swears that he could cry again, right then and there. his eyes flit over your torso, where several scars in varying sizes have desecrated the skin. as he idly traces the pink lines, one final memory surfaces from the depths of his subconscious. him, desperately pounding your sternum; the last threads of denial snapping in tune; and you, coughing and spewing both curses and whatever seawater that had clogged up your lungs. touya held you in that same position for hours, listening as your ragged wheezing turned into hiccupping sobs. hauling you inside had been no easy feat, and having to hear your muffled groans while he stitched you up by the crackling hearth was no better, but the evening after had been pleasant.

you could not recollect the face of the intruder, and with such little information to go off of, touya was left to wallow in self-loathing for love he had almost lost. no amount of therapy could prevent the following nightmares and panic attacks, but in time, the rekindling of your relationship was proved successful, and dabi was prepared to repay you for the moments where you consoled him.

it wasn't just a dream. it had all happened, and yet here you were, alive and well.

a pensive look crosses your features when you note how quiet touya is, and you take it as a sign to break the tension with a tried-and-true method from the past. he doesn't resist as you coo softly, pulling him under the covers and wrapping yourself around him, a garbled tune fleeing from past your lips before you press them to his shoulder. you trail the faintest of butterfly kisses along his neck, his jaw, his cheeks and so on. the anxiety coiled in touya's chest starts to untangle, leaving him as a trembling bundle of nerves in your arms as you shush him, your nimble fingers carting through his hair.

if he weren't so tired, he would have laughed at how the tables have turned; with you cradling him in the way he's so used to doing. still, not even he can deny that it feels nice to be held like this.

"s'alright sweetheart. i'm here. . ." you whisper, and the effect is instantaneous. touya stills as he inhales the scent of buttercream and fresh pine that wafts into the bedroom, his eyelids fluttering shut. all he can hope for is that your presence will drive away any nightmares that foreshadow his well-needed rest, and that when he wakes up in the morning, you'll still be at his side.

dabi made a mistake, and thousands more will come to pass, because underneath the grit and grime that makes up his callous exterior, there is a human being; struggling to survive and struggling to please, just as much as the next. but he'll never leave you again. he had promised you as such with the band of gold now encircling your ring finger, and as long as he lives, he'll never break it.

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Stress Relief (Donaka x fem!reader)

Summary: Donaka is stressed and it’s your job to help him relax.

Pairing: Donaka x Fem!Reader

Author’s notes: is this me posting filth again? Why, yes, it is! Enjoy because I have no idea how long this will last. LOL

Wordcount: 2688

Warnings: smut (oral m!receiving; fingering). Powerplay; degradation kink; edging, overstimulation; choking. 

Most of your days you spent doing whatever you wanted because you had no worries, not financially or of any type. You were free to hang out with friends, travel, party, and do whatever you wanted.

There were only two rules: you needed to be available to him whenever he called, be it in person or through the camera. And you were exclusively his. No one was allowed to touch you unless he said so. Those two rules were easy enough to follow when it meant having everything you ever dreamt of and more.

That day, you had been in your apartment reading when the message came in, making the smartwatch around your wrist vibrate:

Zen space. Lilac. NOW.

You had no idea what had happened and you preferred to remain blissfully ignorant of Donaka’s business, but you recognize that tone, even through text. He was stressed and furious and it was your job to help him relax.

Wasting no time, you set your book aside and headed to your bedroom, considering for a second if you should take a quick shower first, make sure your skin was silky soft and scented just like he preferred, but decided against it. Making Donaka wait was never an option so you just changed into the requested lingerie.

It was a pale lavender babydoll, with a lace front that revealed almost every inch of your body and tiny panties that barely covered your sex. You also put on the diamond choker he had gifted you even though he hadn’t explicitly asked for it, before taking the private lift that took you straight to his loft on the floor above.

The elevator opened in his home office and you noticed the room was dimly lit, the wall of screens was on standby offering a soft blue glow. The black leather couch was empty as you expected so you turned your attention to the left corner of the room, his Zen space, where he went to meditate or cool off.

Donaka was sitting on the glass bench, back turned to the rest of the room and facing the wall of concentric circles, his bare feet resting on the platform that separated the smooth and polished dark floor from the finely grated white sand. His hands rested on his spread knees and there was a slight hunch on his shoulders, the weight of his stress.

By his feet, in front of him, laid a thin pillow to protect your skin from the unforgiving sand and you were glad for it. You would, of course, kneel on it and endure the grains digging into your skin if that was what Donaka wanted but he didn’t get off on pain. Not yours at least.

You moved towards him in silence, resisting the urge to brush your fingers over his broad shoulders and back, before kneeling in front of him, sitting on your heels and looking up at the man that gave you everything and owned your heart.

His eyes pinned you in place and made your breath hitch. Cold fury clouded the brown orbs and his lips were pressed together tightly, jaw clenched tight. The sight made your body shudder with want and you pressed your thighs together.

There was something so arousing about seeing Donaka this enraged. Seeing the violence in his eyes and knowing that it would take him barely any effort to snap you in half or choke the life out of you. The knowledge that he was the kind of man that killed without even blinking but for some reason, he chose never to harm you. Most of the time, Donaka chose tender caresses and measured touches designed to bring you the kind of ecstasy that you had never experienced before.

Today his fingers trailed against your cheek in a featherlike touch, his thumb brushing over your lips, and at the faintest pressure, you parted them, letting the thick digit enter your mouth. You swirled your tongue around it before sucking greedily just as you wanted to do to another part of his body.

You watched his eyes darkening as you hollowed your cheeks and pulled more of his thumb into your mouth and moaned under your breath at the knot building between your legs, making your core pulse and dampening your panties.

Donaka’s other hand reached for the button and zipper of his trousers, releasing his half-hard cock from its confinements. He pulled his thumb free from your mouth, palm cradling your nape before he nudged your forward.

You licked your lips and inched closer, mouth salivating at the treat in front of you. You want his long, thick cock in your mouth. You wanted to feel it fully hardening between your lips, under your talented tongue. You needed to taste his bitter precum, a flavor you were slowly becoming addicted to… but all that could only happen after Donaka’s permission.

Sometimes it would come almost immediately. He would push you down his hard shaft, making you gag on it, fucking your mouth with abandon and using you like you were worth little more than your holes. In those days, he would come all over your face, zip himself up, and leave you to take care of yourself.

However, on days like today, when he was tense and furious with whatever had bothered him at work, he preferred to drag it out. To make you work for it, sometimes even beg to have his cock in your mouth. When he finally allowed it, Donaka would fuck your mouth oh so slowly, pushing deeper and deeper, until tears started to spring in your eyes, spit ran down your chin and your juices soaked your panties in such a way that all you and he could smell was the scent of your desperate arousal.

“What do you want?” He asked and his low and throaty voice sent shivers down your spine.

“Your cock, sir.” You whispered, peering at him from under your lashes. “Will you fuck my mouth, please? Make me choke on it?”

There was a barely-there twist in the corners of his mouth and your heart leaped in your chest. How you loved to make him feel good. It was like a drug.

“Such a good girl,” Donaka said, his thumb caressing your jaw. “My little cockslut.”

“Yes, sir,” you all but whimpered, pressing your thighs together once again because your cunt throbbed and you had never in your life thought you would get this turned on by being used like this, but by God, his words made you shudder with desire, body hot and ready for anything that Donaka was willing to give you.

With his hand still on your nape, controlling your pace, he nudged you forward once more, holding his cock with his free hand and letting the tip rub against your wanting lips. Donaka wasn’t one for much noise, but there was a slight hitch on his breath that told you he was enjoying the soft, almost ghost-like touch on the sensitive and swollen head of his member.

Your lips parted a little, letting your tongue brush against the velvety head and Donaka sucked in a deep breath, especially when the tip of your tongue probed against his slit, bringing forth a pearly white drop of his precum and making him harden fully.

God, your cunt ached in need to be filled but you knew you couldn’t touch yourself. Not until he allowed and that wouldn’t happen anytime soon. Not until he had his release and part of you wanted to just suck him fully into your mouth, end this torturous teasing. Even if it meant a serious punishment later (or maybe especially because it would lead to a punishment).

However, the bittersweet pleasure of the edging and denial was like a drug too, making your orgasm be nearly blinding so you hanged on, gathering every little bit of patience you could find so you could continue to just lick the tip like a lollipop that you wanted to last forever.

After a few more moments of that painfully slow game, Donaka’s grip on your nape tightened, his blunt nails digging lightly against your skin, and you knew he was ready for more. You met his dark gaze, eyes hooded with pleasure lips parted in a soft pant as he watched you and he didn’t even need to tell you what to do.

“Sir, may I suck you now, please?” you pouted and kissed the head of cock for good measure, batting your lashes like a needy child and Donaka smirked.

“Yes, angel, you may.”

You didn’t need to be told twice and engulfed the thick and hard shaft into your mouth, whimpering at the burst of flavor on your tongue as he let out a small grunt of pleasure, his shoulders finally relaxing as he tilted his head back and just enjoyed your work.

You pushed him deeper into your mouth until your nose was almost pressing against the thick dark curls surrounding his member. The open fly of his dress pants scratching your chin as you hollowed your cheeks and hummed. Donaka cursed low and grunted, his hips raising lightly, driving even deeper, and you gagged, tears burning your eyes. Your clit was almost painfully swollen and each rub of the lace of your panties was torture. You needed just a little bit of…

“Take your hand off that cunt, angel.”

You had no idea how he knew. His head was still tilted back, eyes nearly closed but you didn’t dare to disobey a direct command. With a pitiful whimper and one last flick on your needy clit, you pulled your hand away, crossing them behind your back and Donaka’s smirked.

“That’s better.” He looked back at you, tugging you away until his cock slipped from your lips with a pop, and you gulped a breath. “No one ever taught you that you shouldn’t touch what doesn’t belong to you without permission?”

You said nothing because you didn’t have an answer to that.

“And to whom that little pussy belongs, angel?”

“You, sir.” Your voice was small and raspy from the abuse on your throat.

“Exactly.”

He petted your cheek once, before pushing you back toward his cock, and dutifully, you took him into your mouth again, letting your jaw slack so his shaft could slip in and out as he guided you to bob your head at a faster pace. His cock pulsed against your lips, and you could tell he was close. Soon enough, Donaka’s hot cum would be coating your tongue and you couldn’t wait. You were desperate for it.

Before him, you had never allowed a guy to cum in your mouth. Then again, before Donaka, the was plenty you didn’t let men do to you. He changed your life, and you knew you would never be able to go back.

His grip on you tightened again as he pulled you closer until your nose was buried against his pubes and you forced yourself to relax as best as you could as he let out a final grunt and pumped his cum down your throat.

The hot and sticky ribbons making you gag again and tears run down your cheeks as you blubbered and squeezed your wrists to hold them still. Only when he was completely spent, Donaka let you pull back, his cock slipping from your mouth, glistening with your spit and his cum as you coughed and gasped for much-needed air.

He only allowed you a moment, before he was forcing to sit on his thigh, your trembling legs spread as he pushed your panties aside and glided his long fingers over your soaked hairs and sensitive lips.

“My dirty little cockslut is this wet from sucking me,” he mocked with a biting tone, and you whimpered. “Do you want to cum, angel?”

“Yes, please, sir.”

His fingers rubbed over your clit, making you gasp and whine, the pleasure overwhelming to the point of hurting but you still thrust your hips up, seeking more.

“Please…” you were almost crying now, desperate for it. Exactly like Donaka like it. “Please, please, please. Oh God, please…”

Thick and fat tears ran down your cheeks and the same hand that had been around your nape, came to your throat, surrounding the choker and forcing you to tilt your face enough so he could lick away your tears and his two fingers finally entered you.

Your cries were high-pitched and needy as Donaka fingered you hard and fast, the heel of his large palm slapping your clit as he curled his digits and the hand on your throat tightened in just the right way.

Your climax hit you like a storm, lighting up every single one of your nerve-ends. Your vision darkened, your body tensed, your back arched and a wild moan tore from your throat as your cunt pulsed and throbbed and you squirted all over his hand and knee.

For a while you were nothing more than a conglomerate of nerves busting with pleasure that seemed to last forever as Donaka continued to thrust his fingers, pressing the rugged wall of your cunt and rubbing your clit, dragging out your bliss until another lightning struck and you came again in what it felt like was just seconds later, but you knew it had to be longer. Time seemed to shorten and stretch at once as you rode his hand, gasping, wheezing, and crying?

You couldn’t tell if that pitiful sound was really coming from your mouth, not when your body was electrified like that, your muscles spasming and feeling like jelly and you had to reach behind yourself for Donaka’s shoulders to hold yourself because surely you would slide to the ground if you didn’t.

And just as the blinding light of your pleasure was starting to dimmish and you thought you would be able to see and feel and talk and breath again, his hand restarted his motions and you cried because it was almost painful now. That sweet, incessant ache that made you seek it, and you could faintly hear sobs and pleas of stop and no more. You couldn’t take another.

“Safeword?” Donaka’s voice sounded clear in your ear, and it was on the tip of your tongue. You knew if it crossed your lips, he would stop, but your vocal cords refused to utter it. “Safeword, angel.”

You pressed your lips together tightly, like a kid with a secret, and shook your head. His lips drew into a pleased smile against your cheek.

“That’s my girl.”

His kiss on your jaw was almost soft and loving before his fingers restarted their dance inside you. Even faster than before and your hips were rocking against it, actively seeking out your third orgasm despite the aching of your abused clit.

Once again, as the climax overtook you, your body went rigid and seized, your vision whited-out and for several blissful moments, that intense pleasure made time fall away, leaving only the most perfect peace and comfort, like slipping into a hot bath after a long day, letting the scented water wash away any hint of tension in your body before you laid in your bed, the duvet and pillows soft like a lover’s caress, welcoming you to an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

When you finally opened your eyes again, after what it felt like just a couple of seconds, you were in your bed, cleaned and tucked tight, the only evidence of your previous activities was the sweet ache between your legs whenever you moved and a deep, sad sigh escaped your lips.

It was always like this: Donaka fucked your brains out, then he would take care of you, clean you up and tuck you in and no matter how much your blissed-out self, begged for it – and you knew you always did – he would never stay. But this was the deal you made. You took whatever he gave you. You didn’t complain and you didn’t demand more.

You couldn’t. Too afraid of losing what little you already had.

xxx

  If you enjoyed this work, please consider reblogging and/or commenting please. Feedback gives life to us writers!

[athenasbloodyspear]

Don’t Make Me Beg Now Baby

CHAPTER ONE: EDGE OF DARKNESS

Hello fellow Greta Van Freaks. This is my very first Greta fic! I hope you enjoy.

MASTERLIST

Note: This fic contains mature themes, discussions of past non-con (no members of GVF involved) and drug use. Minors DNI. 18+ only and please take care of yourselves. (See Ao3 for full tag list)

You can also read this fic on Ao3 if you prefer!

Jake Kiszka x Original Female Character

Picture this: The boys are in Northern Michigan to write the new album and they meet a wild young woman who works at a local record store who has a rough history with rock bands.

She doesn’t want to fall into the same traps she fell into before. He doesn’t want to hurt her.

The rest of them just want them to figure their shit out.

Note: While this fic is based on the members of Greta Van Fleet, I obviously do not know them personally (lol) and nearly 99% of this is a fever dream I decided to write down. Some tid bits are based on things said in interviews/photos/songs but please do not come for my neck if you dislike my portrayals as this is a STORY that I have entirely made up.

This will be a slow burn, overly dramatic, cliché fest of me missing my Mitten State and wishing more than anything I could move back home. Their music makes me homesick and for that I’ll never forgive them. ;)

Chapter Under the Cut

CHAPTER ONE: EDGE OF DARKNESS

The tiny bell on the door to “The Edge” clanked as Jake pushed his way in, followed by Josh, Sam and Danny. The afternoon sun streamed through the slats in the windows at a harsh angle, illuminating the swirling dust. The boys all immediately took a deep breath. They all loved the smell of this place. A mix of dusty old vinyl's, incense and weed. 

The Edge was the shop owned by an old friend, Levi, who had been a longtime family friend of the Kiszka’s. The boys had made the near three hour drive to the shop whenever they had a spare weekend in their younger years. They bought Levi out of his guitar strings and drumsticks and always looked through the boxes of vinyl's hoping to find treasures. Levi sold an eclectic mix of music equipment, records, books, home goods and comically horrific coffee. 

The Edge is where they had each bought their very first instruments, had their first beers and even smoked their first joint. It was a special place for them. 

The old wood floors creaked with every step, the wood walls were covered with old articles from Rolling Stone, photos Levi had taken and autographs from the artists who had cycled through the place over the years. There were stacks upon stacks of vinyl's. Shelves of old autobiographies and music theory books. There were speakers stacked from floor to ceiling, and the whole right side of the store was jam packed with basses and guitars. The back corner had a few keyboards and a drum set, but plenty of catalogues to pick even more instruments from. There were cases of drumsticks and guitar picks and strings. The middle of the store had tables full of incense, candles and interesting home goods. There were tables where local artists sold jewelry, art pieces and furniture. It was full to the brim, most shelves rising way up to the ceiling. Most needed a ladder to reach the top. The basement had a sound studio with even more equipment set up to be used to record, or to test out. 

Levi had inherited the place from his father, who had built up quite a legendary roster of friends over his years. The shop was just off Front Street on the main drag of Traverse City. Levi’s father had made a name for himself as a great host to bands looking to escape to northern Michigan to hole up in cabins and write albums. Levi continued the tradition and took it a step further by buying the space next door and turning it into a club with live music on the weekends. 

If you were lucky, you could catch some super huge bands playing for only about 100 people in the dark side room of The Edge. 

“You bastards finally made it!” Levi called out as he came sauntering out of the back room. Levi looked the exact same as the last time the boys had seen him. Tanned skin from his days paddle boarding and hiking along the Lake Michigan shore, sandy blonde hair that was brighter in the summer, perpetual 5-o-clock shadow because he just couldn’t be bothered to shave, shell necklace around his neck, light wash jeans low on his hips with the same old cowboy boots he’d been wearing since the boys were 12. 

“Is that grey hair I see Levi?” Josh leaned forward with an exaggerated squint. Levi laughed, snagging Josh’s head to give him a noogie. 

“I may be older than you punks by a few years, but I’m not greying yet.” Levi released Josh from his headlock and gave him a shove. 

“I’d say 37 is more than a few years older than us, grandpa.” Sam snarked. 

“You’re makin me regret extending my hospitality, kid.” 

Jake felt himself relax fully for the first time in a really long time. It was just like old times. Exactly what the boys needed. 

“Welcome back dudes. I’m surprised I’m still cool enough for you Rockstar types.” Levi crossed his legs and leaned back against the front counter. 

“We’ll never be too cool for The Edge. This place will always be way cooler than we could ever be.” Danny piped up, walking forward to wrap Levi in a hug. 

“It’s been too long man.” Levi commented as he smacked Danny on the back. 

“We know.” Sam said ��Way too fuckin long.” He hugged Levi next. Josh and Jake followed up with hugs next. The room was heavy with a tinge of melancholy. Old friends who had missed each other finally reunited. 

“Well, have you guys been to the house yet?” Levi stepped around the counter and started pouring four cups of the famous nasty coffee. 

“Yeah we dropped our bags off before we headed into town.” Danny spoke up. 

“Isn’t it sweet?” Levi asked enthusiastically. 

“It’s wicked man. Thanks so much for getting that set up for us.” Josh grinned as he snagged a cup off the counter. 

The house was a mid century modern cabin right on the east bay shore. It came equipped with a huge garage studio, front deck and a dock out into the bay. Levi had bought the house in foreclosure and along with help from a bunch of locals (in exchange for beer of course) they turned the house into a perfect getaway for any artists looking to come take a break up north. The place had five bedrooms and three bathrooms with a giant living room with overstuffed couches and velvet chairs. The walls were covered in art and the shelves were full to bursting with plants. It was a kaleidoscope of colors and textures,  with mix matched rugs and lamps. It was Levi’s pride and joy. 

“I’m so glad you guys like it.” Levi smiled even bigger as he passed coffees to the rest of the boys. “Once you’re a little more settled, feel free to send me a list of equipment you want me to set up downstairs and you can start coming in whenever to work. But also, I think you should probably take a week or two off first. You all look about two seconds away from collapsing.” 

“Yeah we’re pretty fuckin beat dude. But we’ll send you a list ASAP.” Jake said, taking a burning sip of the coffee. It singed his nerve endings and he couldn’t have been happier about it. 

Levi opened his mouth to speak again, when a voice filtered through the window to the loft above the store. 

“Yo Levi!” the person shouted “Can you please get off your fuckin ass and pick music to play? I know Wednesdays are your day to pick but if you take forever I’m just gonna put on whatever I want and you can suck it.”

All four boys' heads snapped up to the window to the loft, but whoever was up there couldn’t be seen. All they could see was that the loft had clearly gotten a makeover. What used to be an upper level where Levi stored surplus supplies now looked like it had a plush velvet couch, lava lamps and plants in it. 

“Alright alright! I’ll get on it.” Levi called back up, shaking his head and chuckling to himself as he walked toward the central sound system behind the counter to scroll through Spotify playlists. 

“Who the fuck is that and what have you done to the loft?” Josh asked, hopping up to sit on the counter. 

“That would be the very best thing that’s ever fallen into my lap. A.k.a my new store and venue manager Maven. She moved back to the area after living in Hollywood for a few years managing bands and she completely changed my life. We finally have consistent stock, a longstanding line up at the club and I have had the time to start photography again. Truly a godsend, if not occasionally a pain in my ass. She turned the loft into a breakroom of sorts.  There’s a couch and table up there now. She practically lives up there sometimes.” 

“Damn she must be some woman if she finally got you to get your shit together with that club.” Sammy piped up. 

“She’s hellfire, I’ll tell yah that.” Levi chuckled, finally hitting play on a playlist. The first bars of Surfin USA by the Beach Boys came on the surround system and matching groans came out of Jake downstairs and Maven upstairs. 

“Not this shit again!” Maven yells. Jake chuckled to himself. Hellfire indeed. 

“It’s my day to pick so suck it!” Levi called back before faux stage whispering to the boys “I mostly just play this to piss her off.”

Levi clapped his hands together once “Well boys, It’s close enough to five o'clock and I owe you a beer. Let’s head over to Little Fleet for some grub and beers and we can catch up.” 

Josh grimaced as he sucked down the last bit of his coffee before lobbing the empty cup into the trash at the end of the counter. “You still make shit coffee Levi.” 

“It’s the one thing I wouldn’t let Maven fix.” Levi said with a grin as all five men exited out the back door. 

                                                           ~0~

The boys took a week to relax, as per Levi’s request. They spent the days hiking the shore, kayaking and drinking beer around the fire. It had been way too long since they’d done this. The release of The Battle at Garden’s Gate had been exhilarating and the fans' response had been everything they’d hoped for. People seemed to love the album and they were all so proud. But with press interviews and touring, they hadn’t gotten more than a day or two to relax at a time. And they certainly hadn’t gotten a chance to get back to their favorite old haunts in years. 

They stopped by the store almost every morning for a cup of coffee strong enough to jumpstart their hearts. Sometimes Levi joined them on their escapades, and sometimes he stayed behind to help out at the store. The boys spent a few afternoons sifting through albums and strumming on some of Levi’s vintage guitars. 

Mostly they caught up on each other's lives. The boys recounted their more personal lives that happened outside the coverage of the album and Levi talked about the past few years of his life in Traverse City. Levi told them all about Maven and how she was practically his little sister. They laughed. They drank. They had a blast. 

The boys noticed Levi was a little on edge occasionally, typically when they heard someone shuffling upstairs or equipment moving around in the backroom of the shop. They assumed it was Maven but weren’t sure, since they had yet to see her in the flesh. A week from their arrival they were all sitting in lawn chairs in the alley behind the store, smoking cigs and drinking their coffee when Sam finally asked. 

“So, why haven’t we met your precious Maven yet? Hiding her from us or something?” 

Levi shifted a bit in his chair. “Um..” he coughed out a laugh. “I am actually. Yes. But it’s the other way around, I’m hiding you from her.” 

“Afraid she’ll fan-girl or something?” Josh commented as he ashed his cigarette.  

“In… a sense.” Levi coughed. “But in quite the opposite way you’re imagining.” 

“She’s a fan then?” Sammy piped up.

“She loves your music. A lot.” Levi sniffed and coughed again. “It’s a real safe haven for her. When she’s having a bad day I catch her upstairs laying on the floor smoking a J with sound cancelling headphones blasting your albums as loud as she can.” 

“Exactly how it’s meant to be enjoyed. With a joint in hand.” Jake chimes in.  

“Yeah..” Levi toes the asphalt a bit with his boots, but doesn’t continue.

“Soooo” Sammy drawls “Why can’t we meet her? We’re no stranger to super fans. I’m sure she’s cool.” 

“Um, well. It’s a bit complicated.” Levi heaves a sigh before flicking his cigarette butt into the coffee canister at the center of their little circle. “I suppose I can trust you guys. You’re friends. Do you remember the huge lawsuit that the band Undercover Heart went through last year? The one about the um” He coughs again, “Rape of one of their staff members by the lead singer Ryan?” 

“Yes. That shit was horrific man.” Danny spoke up. “I read all the details I could. They kept the poor girl's identity private but goddamn I felt so bad for her. She was a badass for filing that suit though.” 

“Yeah. She was.” Levi breathed. “So, this is strictly off record and if you repeat this to anyone I will skin you all alive, famous rock stars be damned.” 

“Jesus Levi.” Jake said. 

“It was her.” Levi choked out. “Maven. That’s why she ran back from Hollywood and ended up here. That dude messed her up and she just… she struggles with meeting famous bands now. You know how many people cycle through this joint writing stuff. She just… has a really fuckin hard time with it sometimes. Particularly bands she likes. I think it’s because once you meet someone, and in her case, discover how much of a monster they can be, their music isn’t… safe anymore.” 

“Fuck.” Jake said, flicking his cigarette into the canister. 

“Well I feel terrible for joking about her being a fangirl.” Josh mutters. 

“She just genuinely loves you guys a lot. I never really told her I was an old friend because I didn’t want her to be worried about y’all stopping by. I just know that if she knows you’re here she’ll take off and avoid coming by the shop as much as she can and not only do I need her here, but I think she needs the safety of the shop too. I didn’t want to wreck it.” Levi sighs again. “I know she’ll find out you’re here eventually, it’s inevitable. I just was a coward and didn’t want to break the news to her.” 

“She was a pretty well known band manager wasn’t she?” Danny asks. “She like… completely made Undercover Heart what it was. Before they hired her they were slated to be a one hit wonder but she hauled them into relevancy basically by her will alone.” 

“Yeah. She basically built that man's career for him. She gave him everything, and he took everything from her. If I ever see the man I’m liable to get my ass thrown in prison.” Levi mutters.

“I’ll help.” Danny says immediately. 

All five sit in silence for a few minutes, smoking the last of their cigarettes. When they’d all finished, they stood and stretched to head back inside the shop. 

“So yeah. Anyway, If you see her that’s fine, just… well now you have context for… her.” Levi says as he yanks open the door. 

A few steps into the back hallway, Levi suddenly halts, causing all four boys to nearly bash into each other. The front door to the shop had crashed open and there were footsteps stomping across the store toward the front desk. 

“Listen Levi,” Maven’s tense voice carried down the back hall. “I know Wednesdays are usually your day for music but I’m having an absolute shit fucking day so I’m playing Greta all day and there’s absolutely nothing you can fucking do about it, kapeesh?” 

The very opening chords of Edge of Darkness scratch through the speakers after she finishes her sentence and the boys all exchange a slightly amused look, grins spread on all of their faces. 

“Kapeesh.” Levi calls out to her. He spins and silently nods to the boys to head toward the back door. The boys attempt to be as quiet as they can as they creep toward the door. 

“Also, Levi?” Maven calls again. Everyone halts in their tracks. “You said there was a band coming in soon. Are they here yet? Do you need me to set up the backroom?” 

“Uh, yeah they’re here.” Levi squeaks. All five men share nervous looks. “They’re uh… up at the house.” He cringes at his lie. “I’m getting an equipment list from them today and then you can get started. 

“Cool cool.” Maven calls back. “Do you think I’ll like their stuff?” 

“Uh. Yeah.” Levi grins then. “I think you will.” 

“Wicked.” Maven calls back. 

All five men repress giggles as they skedaddle out the back door and into the alley. 

                                                        ~0~

The next morning the boys wake up to a group text from Levi. 

COME BY THE SHOP ASAP. COME IN BACK DOOR. HEAD DOWN THE STAIRS TO THE BOOTH. BE AS QUIET AS YOU CAN. 

A weird request, but they did as they were told. They all piled into the SUV they had rented and headed to the shop. Danny peeled open the back door as quietly as he could, and Sammy opened the door to the stairs. They tiptoed down and through the door at the end of the stairs that opened into the booth of a sound studio. Levi sat in front of all the mixing boards with a cup of coffee to his lips. He glanced over at them and softly said “coffees on the table.” 

“Why the weird text?” Jake asked. 

“Because of that.” Levi responded softly, pointing through the dark glass into the soundstage. 

The sound stage was littered with mismatched rugs, and a few milk crates that doubled as tables. There was a gorgeous seafoam green drum set toward the back wall and stands full of various guitars and basses. Along the left wall was a piano and a Mellotron set up exactly to the specifications Sam sent over. However, with all these beautiful instruments to look at that would normally catch their eye, it was the woman sitting on stool in the center, cradling a dark purple Fender guitar that made Jake stop in his tracks. 

Maven, Jake had to guess that’s who it was, was wearing checkered distressed pants, with a ripped up old band t-shirt cropped at her ribs, revealing a sliver of the rounded part of her stomach. Over top she was wearing an orange leopard print cardigan that ran down to her thighs. Around her neck was a series of long necklaces, and her wrists were adorned with interlacing leather bands. 

She was plucking out a melody with her eyes closed, rocking back and forth on the stool. Jake had seen countless numbers of people playing the guitar before. On the road, in the studio, studying old masters on YouTube. There was nothing overly special about the way she was sitting or playing, but he felt a little bit like he couldn’t breathe. 

“She never fuckin plays anymore man.” Levi whispered. “It felt like magic hearing music coming out of the basement this morning. I just felt like you should see it.” 

The melody she was playing was sad. Haunting is a better way to put it, and Jake couldn’t look away. Not even when Sammy placed a cup of burning hot coffee into his hands. She was moving her head along with her playing, the strands of her dark messy hair shaking back and forth. The group watched in silence as she played out the riff a few times, Levi cranked the volume of the mics in the space and they could hear her humming softly. 

“She has a strong presence.” Josh murmured. 

Maven suddenly stopped. Everyone froze as she heaved a sigh and stood from the stool to put the guitar back on it’s rack. 

“You in there Levi?” Maven said then. The boys still didn’t move a muscle. Jake’s head was spinning, having finally seen the face that went with the voice he’d heard in the loft for a week. She was beautiful. He couldn’t even really put his finger on why, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Even seeing her through the thick dark glass of the studio. 

Levi hit the button to the mic in the booth and responded “Yah.” He paused before adding. “Sounded good.” 

Maven snorted in a self-deprecating way and said “Thanks.” 

Levi hit the mic button again and said “You should play more.”

“Don’t push it Levi.” Maven snapped back. Levi released the button to his mic and let out a heavy sigh. “Can you check some levels on the lines for me? I think I have everything pretty good but I want to make sure before they get here today.” 

“Sure.” Levi replied. 

Maven pulled the amp cord out of the Fender she had been playing on and plugged it into another guitar, one more similar to the guitars that Jake regularly used while they wrote. 

“Are we looking for a punk or a rock-y sound?” Maven asked. 

“Um.” Levi hesitated. “Rock. Their sound is like…” He tossed a small smile over his shoulder at the boys. “Like Greta’s actually.” 

“Dope. I hope they’re not just copying the boys. They’ve got a mellotron in here and everything.” The boys smiled. She pounded out a few chords on the guitar. “Good?” 

Levi looked over at Jake for confirmation. Jake, who still had not taken his eyes off Maven, nodded. 

“Yeah, that should be good for raw sound. They can play with stuff too. They’re a pretty well educated bunch.” Levi called back.

“Thank god.” Maven snorted. “Not like that indie punk bunch you booked last month who needed me to do fucking all their sound mixing for them.” 

“Maven, I don’t think they kept asking you down here because they need help with their sound.” 

Maven just rolled her eyes at that.  

They repeated the process with each instrument, Levi silently asking for confirmation from the respective Greta member until they were sure the sound lines were all functioning properly. 

“Great work kid.” Levi called into the studio. 

“Ew don’t call me kid. I’m a 27 year old woman.” Maven called back. 

Levi chuckled. “You’re a kid to me.” 

“Whatever.” Maven muttered. “I’m gonna go take a walk along the beach. Smoke a little. Text me if they need me.” 

“Will do.” Levi called back. The boys all tensed, looking for places to hide, or to run up the stairs and back into the alley. Luckily, Maven took the back door out of the studio and up another hallway instead.

“Well boys, it’s all you.” Levi said. “Text if you need anything.” 

Sam piped up and said “Yeah actually, can you pick my brother’s jaw up off the floor?” 

“Jake see pretty lady play guitar and Jake brain break.” Josh teased. 

“You guys suck.” Jake grumbled. 

Levi cackled. “I thought you’d like her.”  

                                                        ~0~

Maven walked along the coast of the bay and absentmindedly smoked a joint. It was an overcast and drizzly day which meant there was no one around, which she preferred anyway. She was feeling on edge. The drizzle was very slowly building a small sheen of water on her arms and hair, but she didn’t mind. The cool water and gentle breeze combination was perfect. 

Maven sat her butt down in the sand and stared out at the waves. She normally wore headphones on her walks, her world was a near constant stream of music, but she had opted for silence today. 

Levi was being weird. He was edgy around her all week, sending her out every morning for tasks and disappearing without saying where he was going around 4:30 every day. She had come to the conclusion that whatever band was in town this week was a pretty big name. Or big enough that he was nervous about her being around them. She sighed. She hated when he tiptoed around her. Maven didn’t blame him. When she first started working at the shop she had had a couple pretty bad PTSD episodes that had scared the shit out of him. She owed him everything for staying with her, talking her down and making sure she was fed and had water when she got into one of her states. 

Levi was her best friend, to put it mildly. He cared for her, kept her safe and in return she busted her ass at his store making sure they had the best products, the best shows and that their artist getaway was something that people would go back and tell their friends about. She loved Levi like an older brother, and he cared for her like his little sister. She would forever be grateful to whatever power in the universe made her stumble into The Edge two years ago. 

She had been high out of her mind, as she had been most days after she came running back to Michigan with her tail between  her legs, and Levi had been struggling with an amp in the shop. She had walked in, spotted his struggle and didn’t even say a word to him, just walked over and fixed the wiring so that it was functional again. Levi had looked up from where he sat on the floor and said “You don’t happen to need a job do you?” 

The rest was essentially history. It only took two months of seeing him every single day, and him not letting her sour moods go by unnoticed, for her to spill her guts over some bourbon one night. About Ryan and Undercover Heart and how badly the whole situation fucked her up. How after she’d recorded her testimony she’d boarded the next flight to Grand Rapids and hightailed it up north. She came crash landing into Traverse City because she’d always loved it as a kid, and figured it would be a great place to start over. The small town she’d grown up in had too many people who knew her. 

He was extra careful with bands for a while. Never letting her be alone in a room with too many male band members, and carefully vetting everyone who came through. Eventually she told him off about treating her like a porcelain doll and he backed down a bit, giving her free reign over lots of the equipment set ups and giving her plenty of hours in the shop by herself. She was happy to do so, so Levi could focus on fixing up the artist house and starting his photography again. 

But he was still very gentle with her sometimes, and she’d always love him for it even when it pissed her the fuck off. 

Once she’d smoked the joint down to the roach, she tucked the end into her pocket. It was sacrilegious to litter near the lake. It was too precious to be fucked with. She meandered back toward the shop. Her plan was to grab her bag and head back to let her Pitbull, Stacy, out for a walk and pee. The girl had been cooped up all morning and Maven felt bad. 

She threw her whole body against the front door, as the latch often stuck, and the loud sound of the chimes clanged in the empty space. She rolled her eyes. Of course Levi left the shop unattended and unlocked. It was Traverse City, no one was gonna rob them, but what if someone wanted to buy something? 

She was humming softly to herself as she made her way around the edge of the counter and plopped down on the stool by the register. She whipped out her phone to ask Levi where he was. She had the message halfway typed when the door behind her, the one that led to the staff restroom, popped open. 

“You know, crime is especially low in this town but that doesn’t mean someone wouldn’t come in here and try to steal your precious coffee maker.” She tossed over her shoulder. 

“Oh.” Was all that came back. It was decidedly not Levi’s voice. Maven spun back quickly. 

“Sorry I…” But that’s as far as she got. She was suddenly face to face with Jake Kizska and all thoughts quickly left her brain. 

They both stared at each other for a long moment. Maven couldn’t quite figure out why he looked just as shocked to see her as she was to see him. He also almost looked afraid for some reason that Maven couldn’t figure out.

He was dressed in an outfit she’d seen him wear plenty of times. A black button up, half unbuttoned, loose fitting light wash jeans and a pair of well worn boots. His wrists were full of bracelets and his hair was longer than the last time she’d seen footage of their concerts, well past his collarbones at this point. 

“Hi.” Jake finally broke the silence. “I’m Jake.” He reached out his hand for a handshake. 

“I know.” Maven replied, and then coughed. Why did you say that you freak? 

Suddenly the front door bell chimed again, and Maven whipped her head to see Levi coming in the front door. She stood abruptly from her stool, skirted around Jake’s outstretched hand, and out from behind the counter. She scooped up her leather satchel on her way. 

She headed straight at Levi. He glanced over his shoulder and saw an apologetic Jake looking forlorn and lowering his hand back to his side. 

“Oh hey Maven-” 

“Hey dumbass, don’t leave the store unattended again. I’m going home to check on Stacy. Probably won’t be back for the rest of the day.” Maven spit as she stormed past him toward the front door. 

“Maven wait-” 

But she was already outside, the hinges bringing the heavy wood crashing back into the frame. The chime of the bells rang through the space. 

“Sorry.” Jake muttered. 

“Not your fault. I knew she’d find out eventually. Right now she’s probably just pissed I didn’t tell her. Which she has every right to be.” Levi sighed. 

After a few more beats of silence Jake spoke again. “Who’s Stacy?” 

Levi huffed a laugh. “That would be her Pitbull.” 

“Oh.” Jake said again. He felt crazy because his brain couldn’t come up with anything else to say. She was prettier up close. She smelled like the Lake and weed and sandalwood. He really wished she’d taken his hand. He shook his head trying to find his brain in it somewhere. 

The other three boys came clambering up the stairs and into the store. They all looked between Levi, who was still standing in the middle of the shop, and Jake behind the counter. 

“Are you two playing freeze tag or something?” Sam quipped. 

“Jake met Maven.” Levi responded. The boys' heads whipped toward Jake. 

“And… I’m guessing it… went well?” Danny questioned.

Levi finally walked back toward the counter. “She left for the day. This is on me. I should have told her y’all were here.” He snagged his keys from below the counter and walked toward the front door to lock up. “I’m closing early, boys. Let’s go get a beer.” 

“Kowabunga baby.” Josh said with a grin.  

                                                     ~0~

Maven sat curled up on her velvet couch, Stacy was her little spoon. There was incense burning, a bottle of wine open on the side table and a lit joint in the ashtray. She had changed into a giant t-shirt and boxer shorts. The soft sounds of John Denver playing off her record player. 

However, none of these things were easing her mind. 

She was pissed, mostly. At herself. At Levi. She was pissed he didn’t tell her they were coming. She was pissed that he felt he couldn’t tell her. She was pissed that she had acted like a freak in front of Jake. 

The anxiety was an endless pit in her stomach. She couldn’t go back there tomorrow. She couldn’t see any of those people. Not when she felt like this. 

She whipped out her phone and quickly shot a message to Levi, before chugging her whole glass of red wine and snagging the joint out of the ashtray. 

                                                        ~0~

Levi’s phone dinged on the table where all of the guys sat drinking beers and chatting. Levi glanced at it and quickly picked it up when he saw her name. 

“It’s Maven.” He said. 

“What did she say?” Jake asked, sitting up a bit in his chair. 

“Fuck.” Levi said, tossing his phone on the table, still unlocked. 

All four boys leaned in to read the screen. 

CASHING IN ALL MY VACATION DAYS. I’LL BE OUT FOR TWO WEEKS. 

“Fuck indeed.” Josh said, pounding back the rest of his beer.

[panicatthediaz]

40 (almost kiss) + 54 (secret relationship)? 🥰

Being in bed at 12:00 am will not stop me, I guess. Bonus Getting Together, I guess. Spent 3 or so hours at this. Ops.

Post S4. This is a disgusting amount of fluff. Unbeta'd (but self proof-read) as I wrote this from 12 am to 3:30 am.

On AO3

Years In The Making

Not that he believed it, but he was sure most people around him would say it was meant to be; something fated somewhere to happen somehow. Eddie didn't really believe that.

What he did believe was that they may have been too afraid (or maybe too repressed, in his case) to see what was going on, what had been growing for a long while. Years, maybe?

But getting shot (again) had given him a good shake, and he could say he'd been almost disappointed to see Ana by his bedside. No fault of her own, of course not, but...

He was pretty sure of what he wanted at that moment.

Breaking things off with her hadn't been that difficult, or painful, a couple of weeks after his return home. Ana's disappointment was clear, but she seemed to know as well as he did that they weren't going anywhere as a couple. With a promise to stay in touch, she walked out of his home one last time.

Now all he had to do was talk to Buck.

-

Buck had been cagey for the first few days when Eddie had asked him about Taylor. It took about a week and a couple of beers for him to blurt out, "She kissed me then ran out." He fidgeted for a couple of minutes. "Then she came back and we talked through it."

Eddie's heart sank, but he still put on a smile for the sake of his friend (if that was all that he would be for Buck, he'd make do). "And?"

"And we are at very different stages when it comes to romance." Buck shrugged, but the tiny frown was right there between his brows. "She became a good friend, but damn, we wouldn't have lasted as a couple."

Buck finished his beer and turned to Eddie, though not looking beyond the water bottle he was holding in his one good hand.

"She, uh... She isn't quite who I want." Buck cleared his throat, abruptly standing up and walking away from the dining table to place his empty bottle in the recyclable bin. "How is Ana, by the way?"

Eddie accepted the deflection well enough, watching as Buck stood by the doorway with his arms crossed, a stance that tried to project calm. Eddie doubted he was anywhere near it; he never enjoyed talking about failed relationships (including those that never took off).

"We broke up last week," he replied easily, standing up to refill his bottle in the kitchen. "Don't worry," he added, seeing the wide-eyed surprise (and dare he say, hope?) in Buck's expression. "It was pretty amicable and even. We both saw we weren't going to get anywhere and decided to split."

"Okay," Buck whispered, following him into the kitchen. "You okay?"

Eddie nodded, smiling. "Yeah, I'm fine." Though he had to ask... "Who is it?" Buck's confused, scrunched-up expression was pretty damn cute, making him look a little bit more like the Golden Retriever pup Hen and Chimney often compared him to. "You said Taylor isn't who you want, so who is it?"

"Eddie," he said on a groan, though he simply leaned against the counter instead of answering.

"See," Eddie spoke with a new bout of confidence (maybe just as ill-placed as the excitement he was starting to feel), standing against the sink across from Buck. "I'm kind of hoping for a specific answer here."

Buck didn't reply. Eddie had barely even noticed a shift in Buck's expression before he moved into his space, pressing a hard kiss against his lips, a huge contrast to how softly his hands cradled his head and how careful he was to not press against the sling and his injured shoulder.

Eddie wasn't sure if the bottle ended up on the sink or on the floor by their feet. What mattered was that he managed to get his hand on Buck's neck, drawing him even closer.

(Not that Buck let either of them press too close, and god, he loved him.

And he was distantly aware that he should be at least a little freaked out over the thought after one kiss - their first kiss - but, well... Years in the making and all that.)

-

One kiss became two, became many, and Eddie could see the same feelings reflected in Buck's blue eyes. Belonging, a finally and a home.

There was no need to go beyond kissing and cuddling, both of them content to sit even closer together, hands intertwined whenever they could.

It was... Soft in a way Eddie hadn't had in so long, intimate in ways he thought he wouldn't experience.

-

And they weren't subtle, weren't actively trying to keep anything a secret. Eddie was still off work, doing his PT as he should and Buck had been staying at his house (their home, he couldn't help but think every time) since Eddie got out of the hospital anyway.

But two months passed and the only two people aware of the change in their relationship were Christopher and Carla because they found them cuddled up on the couch, Eddie knocked out by painkillers and then too out of it to deny anything when his son questioned him about it.

(Christopher had simply nodded with a mumbled "Good" and left it at that. They still had no idea what that was about.)

The sling had come off a few days ago, though he still couldn't do that much, and it was driving Eddie up a wall. Buck was at the station, and he didn't want to think about the conniption he'd have if he drove there.

He knocked on Christopher's bedroom door, opening it slowly to see his son smiling at him from where he sat with his book.

"Hey, buddy." It was impossible not to smile back, feeling the all-encompassing warmth at the fact that he was still here, could see his son growing up for a while longer. "What do you say we pay a visit to the station?"

The frown he got for that was so much like Shannon's that he didn't know what to do with the pang in his chest. There was no guilt, not then, over the fact he missed her. He just did, she should be able to see how much their kid was growing, how much like her he could be sometimes. And maybe she was, if the afterlife turned out to be a thing after all.

"You are not supposed to drive."

And that tone was way too much like Buck's, just this morning, for Eddie to hold back his laughter.

"I was thinking we could take an Uber." He shrugged with his left shoulder. He might have been desperate to get out of the house, but he wasn't stupid; he didn't want pain and he didn't want to end up lectured by the entire team once he got there. "What do you say?"

Christopher considered it for a moment, then placed his bookmark and got up. "Let's go!"

-

"You better not have come in your car, Eddie!"

He rolled his eyes at the very much expected exclamation as Christopher giggled beside him.

"Don't worry, Buck," the kid said, walking ahead as Buck came downstairs. "I didn't let him drive."

"Thank God for you, kid," Buck said, kneeling on one knee to give Chris a hug. "Your dad is stubborn, he probably would have driven here if it weren't for you."

"Hey!" There was no real annoyance in his protest, but Eddie still said, "I get enough sass from my kid, don't you start, too."

Buck, in such a show of maturity, stuck out his tongue at him before turning to Christopher once again.

"Come on, buddy, let's go see the fun people."

Chris' laughter echoed in the station, and Eddie let the light atmosphere carry him upstairs to the loft where he was greeted by the rest of the team with hugs, and some friendly pats on (thankfully) his uninjured shoulder.

Chimney and Hen immediately walked with Christopher to the pinball machine, and Bobby had given him a plate of leftover breakfast to carry wherever he ended up sitting.

He chose the couch, where Buck had already made himself comfortable again and was currently watching the trio at the machine. They could hear Hen encouraging Chris to beat Chim's high score.

"Hey you," Buck greeted softly, an arm going around his shoulders as Eddie adjusted himself.

"Hey yourself." Buck glanced at the other side of the loft, then pressed a quick peck to his lips. Apparently, everyone was sufficiently distracted. "How are you?"

"So far so good." He took one of the biscuits from Eddie's plate, quickly popping it into his mouth as if Eddie hadn't sat here to share them. "I'd ask how your day is going, but it's obvious you're bored out of your mind."

Eddie groaned, letting his head fall back against Buck's arm. He was beyond bored, at this point, and no amount of movies or video games had helped. Buck's chuckle beside him was another pretty good incentive to get out of the house.

He turned his head to face him, his own expression undoubtedly soft as he took in the man that had been by his side for so long and for so many things already.

Buck's expression softened even more, somehow, his smile bright as the sun and even warmer. He leaned closer and-

And what sounded like a very undignified squeak interrupted their almost-kiss, causing Eddie to huff in mild annoyance and turn around.

Chimney stood by the dining table, gaping at them. Bobby was still in the kitchen and turned to look at them at the sound of Chimney's squeak.

"What's wrong, Chim?" Hen asked, frowning all the way from the pinball machine (where Christopher continued to play).

"They..." He gestured between the two of them. "Since when are you two together?!" He ignored Hen's own surprised exclamation. "They were about to kiss!"

"Yeah," Eddie confirmed, nonchalantly making himself comfortable in Buck's arms in the new position so he could look at the rest of their team. "And you had to ruin the mood."

Buck hid his face in his hair, and Eddie could hear the quiet snickering. They really thought the others would have caught up after two months of visiting Eddie at least once every few days.

"What about Ana?"

"We broke up two months ago, man."

"And Taylor?"

"Dude, we never started dating in the first place." The exasperation was clear in Buck's voice. "She's really just a friend."

Chimney nodded, satisfied for the time being. They had no doubt that there would be more questions later.

"When did this even happen?" Hen asked this time, walking over with Christopher.

"Two months ago," Chris answered before either of them could, smiling a little too innocently. "A week or something after Dad broke up with Miss Flores."

Eddie had no idea Christopher knew that level of details, but he had definitely been out of it when he told him. Maybe he said more than he remembered.

"Well," Bobby finally spoke up, walking over to their little family unit on the couch, now that Christopher was tucked on Eddie's other side. "I'm happy for you two." Eddie could feel whatever tension had been on Buck's body (not that there was much in the first place) drain out of him at Bobby's words. "And we can deal with HR and paperwork once you're back at the station," he added, directed at Eddie. Bobby's smile was genuinely warm, putting him even further at ease.

Years in the making. Maybe it was obvious to everyone else, but Eddie wouldn't change a thing about the road they took to get here. It had been hard and full of hurt, but what they had was solid and them and it was definitely worth it all.

Including the cheering, clapping, and whistles of everyone else when Buck pressed a kiss to his lips right there and then simply because he could.

[julies-butterflies]

“One of us is starting to fall asleep.”-jukebox?

cuddle dialogue prompts  ( no longer accepting )                         ( read on ao3 )

By now, Julie knows that  Luke  and  sleep  don’t exactly get along.

Like... peanut butter and coleslaw. Studying and roller coasters. Alex and high school athletics. Luke and sleep are polar opposites, and flat-out don’t have time for each other. Whatever fundamental sequence of Luke’s DNA, whatever weird criss-cross firing of neurons in his head looks at a good night’s sleep, and decides, “nope, not for me...”

Well, Julie doesn’t  get it, but that’s how Luke’s made. Apparently, it’s how he’s always been, even when he was alive. Everyone else just has to deal with it.

“You’re keeping me up,” she announces, drawing her fuzzy blanket tighter around her shoulders.

Luke’s head shoots up, surprised — and sure, he’s got a right to be, considering it’s almost two in the morning. No sane person would be up this late. Not by choice, anyways... and Julie isn’t  choosing  to be awake herself. Something inside of her — one of those lightbulbs in her chest that blaze bright whenever the boys are near, that can feel them like a low, humming frequency even when they’re out of sight — is still awake, and buzzing. Late nights are like this. Whenever Luke can’t put himself to sleep — whether his brain is too loud, or his body too charged with energy — Julie feels it. She doesn’t want to, and definitely doesn’t enjoy it... but this is what her life has become. Being kept awake half the night by cute, insomniac ghosts.

He lowers his pencil slowly, and pulls his notebook against his chest. Luke sucks his cheeks, looking sheepish. 

“Sorry. I, uhh, I was just —“ He gestures vaguely around the darkened studio. A few faint snores echo from the loft, where Alex has set up a private space for himself. Reggie is face down on the sofa in a pile of blankets, hugging them to his chest like a kangaroo protecting its baby. (Julie’s going to have to get him a stuffed animal to snuggle one of these days; half the reason Luke doesn’t sleep, she suspects, is because Reggie’s such a blanket hog.)

The studio is dark except for a single light, glowing in the corner of the room. Luke is curled up there, with his notebook against his knees… but he wasn’t writing when Julie slipped in. He was glaring down at the page like it personally offended him. Now, he sets the notebook aside without a second glance, turning his full attention on her.

“Just felt like there was a song in my head, and I had to get it out. But it’s, uhh…” He gives his shaggy head a shake. “Not coming.”

“Maybe ‘cause you’re exhausted.” Julie crosses her arms. “It’s way past bedtime, Luke.”

“I’m a ghost, though.” He spreads his arms wide and leans back in his seat, like that’s something to be proud of. “Ghosts don’t  have  bedtimes.”

Without blinking, Julie crosses over to the couch and gives it a firm kick.

“Reggie? When’s your bedtime?”

Reggie snorts, popping his head up. “Ten-thirty,” he mutters… before faceplanting in the blankets again.

Luke rolls his eyes. “Reggie can have a bedtime if he wants to. I’m a free agent.”

“You’re an insomniac, and should probably talk to someone.”

“You know any good ghost doctors?”

Julie’s eye twitches. “We’ll  find  one.”

Tipping his head back towards the ceiling, Luke clicks his tongue. “I dunno, Jules, it’s been a while since my last checkup… I don’t got time for all the bells and whistles, you know? They’re gonna take that little hammer to my knee, and it’s gonna go right through me… they're gonna look for my heartbeat and be real confused... probably try to give me some spooky X-rays…” He gasps, and bolts upright. “Julie, they’re gonna find out I don’t have a skeleton!”

Okay, thinks Julie, the late hour is definitely getting to his head.

“Is that your excuse?”

The unexpected voice from the darkness sends them both jumping out of their skin. Luke flails, nearly falling out of his chair; blinking up at the loft, Julie’s eyes widen as a  phenomenal  mess of bedhead peeks out over the railing.

“We all know you’re afraid of needles. You haven’t had a booster shot in thirty years, Luke.” Alex glares down at them both. “Now, either shut up or go away, some of us are trying to sleep!”

Reggie holds up a hand, and mumbles something like “agreed,” into his pillow.

Clapping her palm over her mouth, Julie exchanges a sheepish glance with Luke. It takes every ounce of her self-control not to burst out laughing — Alex might actually start throwing things at them — but from the way Luke’s shoulders shake, she doesn’t trust him to hold out.

“Okay, sorry, we’re leaving,” she says in an hushed rush… and, before Luke can say another word, she snags him by the arm and pulls him with her.

They slip out the doors of the studio, and break into the humid night air. May in Los Angeles is just beginning to get hot -hot; warm enough to justify tank tops instead of sweatshirts, flip-flops instead of monster slippers. Julie’s pajamas aren’t anything interesting — Luke’s seen her in worse — but under the cool moonlight, his eyes still drink her in as if seeing her for the first time.

“You sleep with all those necklaces on?” he asks.

Okay, maybe he is seeing her for the first time, because Julie’s slept with her jewelry on since, like… sixth grade.

“You’re just noticing?”

“They’re pretty in the moonlight,” he replies, like it’s a foregone conclusion; then his brows furrow. “What if they choke you?”

“That’s not how it works, Luke.”

“Sure it is! All they need to do is get a little tangled up —“ He mimes, presumably, Julie doing acrobatics in her sleep. “And  wham,  you end up all strangled to death! I know we’ve got a gimmick, Julie, but we don’t gotta make it a full-phantom band so soon.”

“You say that like you’ve got plans for my death.”

“I mean…” He shrugs, the picture of innocence. “Not in the near future, but, y’know, we can't have you out-aging us…”

“Oh,” she says, beginning the long trek up the pathway to the house. “So I’ve got… two years before you guys decide to kill me. That’s reassuring.”

Luke follows after her, their footsteps echoing together. “Eh, we could stretch it to five. Six, tops. You’re tiny, you’ve still got a few good years left in you. Not like you’re gonna go all grandma on us  too  soon.”

Julie gasps, and swats at him. Luke accepts the hit to the chest with dignity, biting back a grin. He looks unfairly handsome in the moonlight… and Julie refuses to think about that, because it opens up a wole Pandora’s Box of issues, ranging from the obvious  (he’s a ghost eternally trapped at seventeen and, unless he somehow comes back to life through the power of music, I  am  going to get older than him someday)  to the serious  (he’s keeping me up at two in the morning).

Luke isn’t handsome. He’s a sleepless menace, and Julie shouldn’t entertain him a second longer.

They reach her door. Somehow, they come to a stop at exactly the same time, turning towards each other. Julie tugs her blanket tighter around her bare shoulders. Luke reaches out, and pulls the door open for her.

“I guess —“ he says.

“Yeah,” Julie agrees quickly. “Sounds good.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

“Goodnight, then?”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

They smile at each other for a second, close-lipped and quiet… before something in Julie breaks, and she lays a hand on his arm. Somehow, he’s always so warm under her touch, so solid. He feels like a promise always kept… a steadiness, a certainty. A comfort.

“Come on,” she says softly, taking them both by surprise. “My bed has room for two.”

---------

He’s still so very warm, in bed next to her, with their legs tangled and bodies brushing whenever they move. It’s too humid for covers, so Julie’s got her favorite sheet, instead. As soon as Luke sees it, he billows it up into the air, and lets it fall down on top of them both like a parachute. Julie claps a hand over her mouth to hide her giggles. Even in the darkness of her bedroom — lit by the dimly glowing fairylights she only put on to keep Luke from tripping over her carpet — his grin is blinding. As the sheet flutters down over them both, she stretches her arms up to welcome it; he laughs so loudly, it’s a good thing her dad and brother can’t hear.

“This,” she huffs, once they’re both hiding under the covers, “this isn’t what we should be doing. It’s two in the morning.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Totally right.” Luke’s quiet for a moment — before shaking the covers again, causing a wave of air to roll over them. He makes a ridiculous whoosh! noise, and Julie snorts.

“Stop!” She swats at his shoulder again; the sound is harsher than the impact. Luke yelps and curls in on himself, feigning a mortal injury. Over his groans and moans and  “Julie, how could you”s,  Julie can’t restrain another fit of giggles.

Oh god, she’s gone for this boy. She really is.

It’s two in the morning, and she’s in hysterics in her bedroom over a boy no one else in the world can see… and he’s smiling at her like she’s the brightest star blazing in the sky, and his legs are brushing hers, and she can feel the pulse of his heartbeat, the warmth of his breath… which shouldn’t be possible, because he’s  dead.

Luke reaches up. Gently, he brushes a stray curl from Julie’s temple. His hand lingers, and Julie feels dizzy.

“This feels like heaven,” he says softly.

Julie’s breath catches.

“I… thought you said you’d never get there.”

“Yeah, well…” When he chuckles, his breath ruffles her hair. “I’m not much of a believer in the ‘all rockstars go to heaven’ kinda thing… I don’t even know if I buy into that stuff, period.” He shrugs, and glances down, at the bare inches of space in between them. “But this… is what it’d feel like, I think. Right here, with you. This kind of forever.”

“With...” She swallows past a throat that is suddenly too dry, forcing words together in a head that reverberates with  heaven  and  you. Forever. God, can they make this last forever?

Instead of speaking, her hand finds Luke’s in the darkness. Their palms press; their fingers intertwine. He is restless beneath her touch, all calluses and carelessness and nervous energy… but Julie holds him until she feels him relax, then slowly raises their hands up between them.

“I’d like that,” she whispers. “To stay here forever.”

His eyes shine bright. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She swallows. “As long as it’s with you.”

These are exactly the sort of confessions that could not be made any time other than late in the night, or early in the morning — that funny liminal space of existence, the hours where nothing is really real, and everything feels like it matters too much. Julie is floating, and Luke is right here with her. He’s smiling inches away from her face… and if she wanted to lean over, to close the distance between them, it would be as easy as breathing.

She doesn’t, though, because this moment feels sacred. She won’t claim it selfishly for herself — won’t turn it into something it’s not. This moment is shared, between her and Luke... secrets whispered in the dark for their ears alone. It should stay that way.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes softly, like it’s all he knows for sure.

“You’re amazing,” she replies, in the same voice.

“You’re a star.”

“You’re inspiring.”

“You make me feel alive again.”

“So do you.”

They exhale in the silence, the words floating through the air around them. Julie imagines she can see them glowing in the darkness. If she wanted, she could pluck them out of thin air, tuck them away in her dream box and save them forever. This feels like the sort of moment that belongs there — halfway between dream and waking, almost too good to be true.

For a while, they don’t talk at all. Luke plays with her hair, and Julie twines their fingers. Their breaths match each other’s in the silence. It feels like floating down a lazy river, and slowly, Julie can feel herself being carried away.

She’s only aware of her eyes getting heavier when Luke’s fingers graze her brow, and she can’t force her lids open to look at him.

“Looks like one of us is starting to fall asleep,” Luke teases, his voice soft.

Julie humms, and feels herself smile. “You.”

“Not me.” His voice is smiling, too. “You.”

“You need t’ sleep.” She exhales, and sees it ruffle his hair like leaves on a tree. His nose scrunches up. He doesn’t look drowsy — not like he’s drowning in it, like she is — but he’s not wide awake, either. His head is quiet, his soul is calm; the hive of bees buzzing in Julie’s chest has given up the ghost for tonight. (Little Luke-shaped bees, with beanies and guitars, who keep flying into everything because they’ve got too much energy…)

She bursts into giggles again at the thought. They spill from her lips like honey; she’s too tired to silence them, nevermind hide her grin. Instead, she slumps against Luke, muffling herself against his shoulder. He smells like pine needles and sunshine. His arms wrap around her back to steady her, and she can feel him smiling against her, and Julie thinks…

Julie thinks…

Forever.

“What’s so funny?” he murmurs into the crown of her head.

“Bees,” she replies, and giggles again.

“Oh yeah?” He hums, like this makes perfect sense. “I mean, yeah, they’re pretty hilarious.”

“Mmm.” She presses her face against his shoulder, and decides to stay there. “Mmm.”

For a long moment, he’s completely still — like the world’s most realistic stuffed animal, the coziest pillow ever made — before his hand tentatively begins to massage between her shoulder blades, running up and down her spine.

“You good, Julie?” he murmurs softly, and Julie humms again.

“Stay with me,” she manages to say.  Forever. “Sleep here… with me.”

Luke’s caress feels like a lullaby. The lips that graze her temple are a promise.

“Don’t worry, Julie,” he murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Somehow,  forever feels good enough for tonight.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Nat and the House: Jameson

CW: Pet whump survivor, collar mentions, references to past pet whump, referenced ptsd flashbacks

Jake Gets Stabbed: First Second Third Fourth

“Okay, well. Here we are.” Nat opens the door for him, swinging back the heavy wood and stepping inside. The sun is warm on his back, but it drops away into a chill as he steps inside. His eyes shift back and forth, trying to bury his curiosity under a tight jaw and narrowed eyes.

The house is big, although not as big as Jake Stanton’s. It’s old, and creaky, and feels alive in a way that newer houses don’t. It’s a place that has seen so many lives move through its halls, felt so many hands on doorknobs and walls, that it’s taken in some of each person who has slept here. They’ve left something behind, and it’s the breath inside the house.

It’s the whisper of air against the back of his neck, slightly chilled, that tells him that a hundred voices have bounced off these walls, with their own pain and fear, long before his added to the chorus. 

Jameson swallows, lingering in the doorway and staring ahead at a carpeted staircase that winds up and disappears around a 90-degree turn, at the coat closet just beside it. There’s a built-in shelf on the landing he can see the bottom half of, lined with photographs in small cheap dollar-store frames. 

Off to one side of the entryway, there’s a big double-door-sized opening into a gigantic living room - to the other side, a dining room with a large table covered in boxes, paperwork, books, and some flannels hung from an empty china cabinet, looking still damp, drying. Beyond that, a small kitchen, he can just see the corner of the oven.

This is a house with breath. This is a house with a voice.

The house tastes like a crackling fire, the mix of heated air and chilled, melted marshmallows inside s’mores, the crunch of graham cracker and chocolate bar underneath. 

This is a good house.

“Sorry,” Natalie Yoder says over one shoulder, moving ahead of him to flick a light switch. Jameson flinches, just a little, when a warm yellow bulb inside a false chandelier lights above his head. Her braid thumps against her back, a deep chocolate brown with strips of silvery white running through it. “I haven’t had anyone here in a long time, so the house is a mess. Just me these days.”

He nods, even though she can’t see him. Natalie Yoder has a good voice, too, it’s full and warm, it tastes like hot chocolate, the kind that goes light on the sugar and is just a little bitter and spiced with cinnamon. Her voice feels smooth on his tongue. He can trust people who taste like this, he thinks, and he takes another step inside.

“H-How… how long?” His voice croaks a little, it rasps. Long-term damage to his vocal chords, they said, from screaming so often for so long. 

She stops and looks back at him, and there’s a gentleness in her tempered by the steel he’s already seen. She gives him a slight smile. “Long enough to speak to Dr. Berger, get you on your meds, and give them time to settle in your system. Could be a month or two to figure out exactly what’s going to work for you. Then see what happens with a couple of controlled interactions.”

He nods again. She speaks like an expert - she is the expert, he guesses, because she’s seen a hundred people like him in her life and Jameson has only ever known himself. 

Not that he’s even sure he knows himself that well, most days.

He has his collar on, buckled tightly around his neck, a comfortable constriction. A reminder that he isn’t in control, someone else is, and what happens from here isn’t his fault. It’s not his responsibility, because a pet can’t be responsible for anything.

He left Jake Stanton lying on a couch’s pull-out bed because he can’t go up the stairs, pale and unconscious, and he left Allyn crying in their shared room, curled up in the closet, running their fingers over the names that Jameson carved into the wall there.

He lost control, for just a minute, of where he was and who was with him, and now…

He’s safer with the collar on.

He’s safer, controlled.

They were right - he can’t do this on his own, and he never could. 

“You can choose whichever room you like, except that I keep Chris’s room for when he stays over just the same, so not that one. But there’s another three bedrooms you can use.” Nat smiles at him, moving to the stairs and gesturing for him to follow.

They creak under his feet, and the house is speaking to him, whispering here, you’re here, you’re here now in bursts of smoke on his tongue and sweet just after. He licks at his lips, looking down at ancient brown carpeting there, almost long enough to be shag.

For just a second, he sees a flicker of a bright red shag carpet in a large shared loft bedroom, a face very like his own but older, laughing as they threw balled up pieces of paper at each other. Sparkling brown eyes-

Gone-

Jameson shivers and the moment is lost, and he lets it go happily. Whatever happened to him, he has too many other problems right now to dwell on something he’s already chosen to leave behind. 

“I’ll take, uh, whichever-... whichever room is closest to the bathroom,” He says, seeing an open door with the telltale tile floor and pale painted walls. She nods, gesturing to a closed door on her left. He pushes open the bathroom door and just stares, for a few long beats. “You have-... dinosaur shower curtains?”

“Oh, Chris loved that,” Nat says, looking over his shoulder briefly. She’s as short as he is, more or less, and somehow her leaning over behind him doesn’t feel quite as unsettling as when Jake Stanton does it, or anyone else.

Shit, maybe they’re all right. Maybe he’ll be safe here… and everyone else will be safe from him.

“I just kept them after he moved out. We can get new ones if they bother you, it’s not a big deal.”

“Uh, no, they’re… they’re fine. I’m going to-... put my stuff down now.” Jameson backs up and she moves away to give him space. The floor creaks softly underfoot as he moves along the hardwood in the hallway, to the closed door of the room he’s chosen sight-unseen.

When he opens it, it’s plain. Just pale walls and two twin beds on opposite sides of the room, side tables with lamps, blankets and pillows. A single framed portrait of a bird on one wall. 

He looks out the window to the branches of a tree outside.

“I’m going to go downstairs and make some coffee. Want me to call for you when it’s ready?” She speaks from the doorway, calm and quiet. He loves her hot chocolate voice.

“Sure. I could… I could use some fucking coffee,” He whispers, without looking back.

“No doubt. We’ll figure this out, Jameson, I promise.” 

Before she can close the door, he asks, all at once in a rush, “What if I do it again?”

She’s quiet, for a minute. Quiet for long enough his heart starts to pound, he starts to wonder if she’ll lock him in the room, or even kick him back out and tell him to start walking and figure it out on his own. He can’t go back - the last time he was on the streets, he got picked up by Robert, the time before that by Brute. His pulse beats against his collar, and he’s safe with the collar, but only if he’s kept by someone who takes care of him, who won’t hurt him worse. “To Jake?”

“Or… or Allyn. Or you, or-... fuck, anybody. What if they-... made me so I’ll do it again?”

More quiet. He hates the quiet. He wants her hot chocolate voice back. He turns, finally, to see her looking him over with a calm that goes so far beyond his own anxiety and fear, a steady surety that makes her seem more like she’s part of the house than someone who simply lives here.

She’s seen a hundred hands, too, learning not to hurt or be hurt. She’s heard a hundred voices learning to speak up, remembering how to do something other than beg for it to stop. Maybe she is the safehouse, and the building is just… an extension.

He can kind of see why the big guy likes her so fucking much.

“We’re going to do everything in our power to give you the tools you need to keep yourself and everyone around you safe.” She smiles at him, a little, lifting the corner of her mouth just the slightest bit on one side. “It won’t be easy. And it won’t be simple, or immediate. But you aren’t irredeemable, Jameson. Even if you fucked up. Does it help if I tell you I’ve had others hit me, or grab at me, when they’re in a panic and forget where they are?”

He breathes, shallow but slow. “R-Really?”

“Yeah. A half-dozen or so. I caught Chris lost in a nightmare once and he cracked me across the face with his forehead so hard I had a bruise for a week. I’ve been kicked, I’ve been hit.” She exhales, not quite a sigh, and steps inside the bedroom, moving over to one of the beds and sitting down, crossing her legs at the ankles and leaning back, resting her weight on her hands. “I ended up in the ER with a concussion once, early on. One of the ones I lost.” She looks away from him, and he sees the wrinkles in her face suddenly settle deeper, as if the weight of that old grief ages her even now. “He didn’t mean to, the poor guy. He was so scared, but I couldn’t-... I couldn’t keep him. He was so scared of himself he went back to his captor. Never saw him again.”

Jameson takes one step towards her, and then another. It’s unconscious, and he tells himself not to, but he can’t help it. “I’m-... I’m sorry for him.”

“Yeah, me too. I hope he’s doing all right, but… I suspect not. It’s… it’s hard, Jameson, to do this, and sometimes the hard feels like it’s never going to end. Sometimes, they think there’s no choice, no other way.” She looks up at him, and he sees the faintest glimmer of tears that don’t show in her voice, don’t fall down her face. “You’re thinking that, too. That maybe you were better off kept.”

The echo of his own thoughts in her low husky voice sends him reeling, and he can’t find his voice to speak at first. Finally, he manages, “Y-yeah.”

“It’s a lie. I understand why it feels like-... it’s inevitable. But I want you to know... I’ve seen this before. And you’re still better off healing than being sent back to shatter. We’re going to help you, and Kauri-... Kauri’s right, I think. You’ll be safer here for a while, and then you’ll go back and be safe there, too.”

“What if I’m not? Safer there?”

Nat Yoder’s smile softens, and she holds out her hands. She must expect him to sit next to her, because she jumps in surprise when he drops to his knees instead, and lays his head on her thighs, across her lap, feeling the rough denim of her blue jeans against his cheek.

Her hands hover, and then slowly she lowers one, and rests it, gently, over his hair. 

“Then you’ll be safe here,” She says, and her voice pours over him, honeyed, deep, the hint of cinnamon and the texture of the thick liquid of his grandmother’s hot chocolate, made always with whole milk and a touch of cream.

Jameson doesn’t question the knowledge of how his grandmother made hot chocolate, and he doesn’t push it away. He just lets it exist, there and then gone a moment later. 

 “For how long?” Her fingers press just slightly against his temple. Her fingertips are slightly roughened, calloused from hard work. “How l-long am I safe here?”

“The same amount of time I give everyone, Jameson,” She says. “As long as you need.”

“But you said-... you don’t take in anyone anymore-”

“I’m making an exception, and I don’t do anything halfway.” She leans over, and he feels her shadow fall over him. He turns his face to press against her leg, feeling the tears start to well, clenching his eyes shut only to have them fall without his consent, to dampen her jeans.

He shudders. “I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt him-... I thought he was Brute, coming b-back, I didn’t know-”

“I know. I know you didn’t. It’s okay.”

“I know I sh-shouldn’t fucking cry-... I’m the ass-asshole who stabbed him, I shouldn’t c-cry about it, I shouldn’t-” He hitches back a sob, feels his collar catch on his Adam’s apple. It’s not enough to keep him safe. It was never enough to keep him safe. 

Her voice washes warm over him, and she runs her hand through his short hair, over the filled-in bald spots shorter than the rest. “You should, if you need to. Go ahead.”

Somehow, once she says he can, he can’t stop himself at all. 

Jameson kneels on the floor in a house that has seen a hundred or more people exactly like him, his body wracked with guilt and horror at what he did, what they made him, and his terror that he can’t ever take it back, that he can’t become anything other than what he was made to be.

And through the tears, she keeps one hand on his head, and when he starts to talk to her, she listens. 

Outside a bird sings, a mourning dove, calling hoo-hoo, hoo, hoo.

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @newandfiguringitout @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whumpiary @endless-whump @burtlederp

[some-days-we-get-sundays]

A Wildmoore fic- “A night of endless possibilities”

“Did Mary go to bed?” Sophie came back from the bathroom and saw Mary was gone.

Ryan smiled softly and gave a slight nod towards Mary’s room. “Yeah she told me to tell you good night.”

Sophie stood awkwardly near the middle of the floor, unsure of her next move. Ryan noticed her hesitancy and she patted the spot next to her on the couch. Sophie smiled and took the invite to sit down. They had done this before, late night chats and drinks at The Hold Up- but never alone together in the others place, with drinks, and couches, and beds, and what seemed like a night full of endless possibilities. Ryan poured them both more wine, she could feel the tension between them. It danced and swirled and then sat in place eager to pounce like a cat at the slightest movement.

“So-” they both started to say at the same time and then laughed. Sophie motioned for Ryan to go first. Ryan giggled and looked down at her lap, then she spoke.

“I wanted to thank you Sophie.” Sophie looked taken a back but tried to keep her face neutral. Her honey colored eyes naturally sparkled as she waited for Ryan to elaborate.

“Sophie, you saw me. And I feel like you’ve been seeing me more than anyone has this past year- and I only just started to realize it and appreciate it. I’d been trying so hard to live up to Kate’s legacy and the expectations that came along with being Batwoman and being Kate Kane and trying to fill her shoes. And then when I lost the suit and the gadgets you were there to tell me I didn’t need them, and that just being Ryan Wilder was enough-” 

“Damn right it is.” Sophie interjected. 

“But you’ve been there pretty much the whole time Soph, and I didn’t even see it. For months now you’ve basically been my ride or die, even when I haven’t been the easiest to get along with-” 

“You had a right not to be easy, Ryan. I didn’t make a great impression with you when we first met and I was blindly working under the Crows. I tried so hard to do the right thing in such a screwed up organization that I didn’t realize I was hurting people who I wanted to protect. And you were right about what you said. I wasn’t Batwoman’s enemy, but I was yours.” 

Sophie gave Ryan a stoic look but Ryan could see how much it had pained Sophie to ignore what her sister had been saying about the Crows, and to ignore what Ryan had been saying about the Crows and to not listen to her own gut. Ryan knew Sophie was a ‘gut’ person, and that it killed her to go against what her gut was saying. But Ryan forgave her. Sophie was trying to do the right thing. She can’t blame her for that. She’s just glad that Sophie finally saw the light, or the dark in this case; and that when she did, she promptly quit that shitty white supremacist organization. Ryan put her hand on Sophie’s knee. 

"I’m so thankful that you’re in my corner. You have no idea how much it meant that you kept convincing me that I was strong and powerful without the fancy ride, and without the loft and the gear and the weapons. Every time I wanted to give up it was like I had a little Sophie angel sitting on my shoulder telling me to keep fighting, and I didn’t want to let her down.” Sophie blushed at that. Ryan noticed Sophie’s blush and it made her stomach turn in weird ways. She thought about removing her hand from Sophie’s knee, but the contact felt right. She slowly started to move her thumb in a comforting manner. Sophie started laughing and Ryan abruptly stopped her movements and started to lift her hand but then Sophie’s hand reached for Ryan’s and kept it in place. Sophie was still giggling slightly as she absentmindedly played with Ryan’s fingers. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m just ticklish.” Sophie snorted and then looked embarrassed. Ryan belly laughed. 

“Really, Sophie.” 

“Hey, I can’t help it!” Sophie took Ryan’s hand off her knee and then guided their joined hands to the side of their bodies. Neither let go and Ryan started caressing's Sophie’s hand with her thumb. While Ryan looked down at their laced hands, Sophie took that moment to steal glances at Ryan. She knew Ryan was beautiful, anyone with a pulse could see that. 

Ryan was still wearing her work uniform from The Hold Up. A tank top that was some how too small but also fit Ryan in all the right places. Sophie mustered up all the strength that she had to ‘look respectfully’. But she couldn't stop her eyes from wandering to Ryan’s eye lashes, and then to her full lips. Ryan chose this moment to look up and she caught Sophie’s eyes. Ryan broke into her big signature grin and put her tongue between her teeth but she didn’t say anything. Sophie on the other hand had a more concentrated look on her face. And before Ryan could read it, Sophie took her other hand that wasn’t laced with Ryan’s, gently placed her thumb on Ryan’s chin and her finger under it, and guided Ryan’s face towards hers. Sophie slowly pressed her lips against Ryan’s. Ryan reacted immediately but in a deliberate and measured exploration. 

She let Sophie take the lead. Kissing and sucking the bottom lip when Sophie would take the top; kissing and pecking the top when Sophie would move to the bottom. Sophie’s lips were plump and sweet- and warm. Ryan couldn’t help the moan that escaped her mouth. She let go of Sophie’s hand so that she could grab the back of Sophie’s head and pull her in closer. Ryan couldn’t help how turned on she was becoming and she climbed a top of Sophie’s lap. Sophie moved her hands down to Ryan’s thighs and then to Ryan’s ass. Ryan broke apart from the kiss and placed her lips on Sophie’s neck. In the back of her mind, she wondered how she got here with Sophie in this heated moment, but she also didn’t particularly give a damn right now. All she wanted was Sophie. She kissed and sucked on Sophie’s neck, enjoying the scent of Sophie and being spurred on by the sounds Sophie was making- letting her know that she was enjoying what Ryan was doing with her lips and tongue. Ryan hesitated at first, but then she started marking Sophie’s neck with hickeys. Sophie whimpered and gabbed at the back of Ryan’s shirt. Ryan started to slowly grind herself into Sophie’s lap. 

Suddenly the lights flipped on and Sophie and Ryan froze. They looked towards the light switch and saw Mary standing there not looking the least bit shocked, but she had the decency to look embarrassed. She was still drenched in sleep and wine and looking cute in her bunny slippers and her PJs. Ryan slowly slipped off of Sophie and sat back besides her on the couch, not putting space between them but giving Mary an apologetic look. Sophie didn’t look as apologetic as she ran a hand through her hair and tried to hide a smirk. Mary walked past them and didn’t say anything. They waited for her to use the bathroom. She came back out. She turned the lights back off and then as she was heading to her room she said “if you two are going to continue, at least go to Ryan’s room. Ryan, I keep telling you I am not a willing 3rd party!” Mary snarked. 

“Sorry Mary!” Both Ryan and Sophie called at Mary’s bedroom door after she closed it. They both dissolved into quiet giggles. 

“So, shall we?” Ryan gestured towards her bedroom. She watched Sophie get visibly nervous. 

“Soph, it’s ok, we don’t have to do anything. You can just - sleep with me. With our clothes on. We can cuddle.” Sophie got some of her bravado back at this. 

“What is this I’m hearing? Is Ryan wilder a cuddler!” Sophie’s natural rasp came out as she chuckled in a good-natured way. Ryan grabbed a near by pillow and lightly smacked Sophie with it. Then she got up and held her hand out for Sophie and led them to Ryan’s room. 

“Oh Sophie dear, there is a lot we don’t know about each other.” Ryan said mimicking the words Sophie had used against her only a couple of months ago. 

“Also why do you like saying my full name so much?” Ryan asked quizzically. 

“I don’t know, it just sounds so good coming out of my mouth. Ryan Wilder.” Sophie enunciated Ryan’s name and let the words roll off her tongue. 

“Well if you like the sound of my name so much, I can make you scream it all night.” Ryan said coolly. She gave Sophie a seductive smirk but wiggled her eyebrows to show she was mostly joking. Sophie feigned shock as they entered Ryan’s room. 

“Wow! I thought we were just gonna cuddle!” Sophie teased and put her hand to her chest in mock offense.  

“Baby, the night is full of endless possibilities.” Ryan said as she closed the door behind them. 

[hotshotsxyz]

Yes your writing is so cool!! If you ever have time my prompt would be sth along the lines of - what if Buck gets insecure abt whether or not people like him? Most of the time he knows the 118 loves him, but sometimes he feels like he's exhausting them. And there is that one time they joke abt sth but he interprets it wrong and gets his feelings hurt so he starts to withdraw. But they're having none of it and WHEN they figure it out? Oh boy, he gets showered with love. Maybe tears up a lil.

I finally did it!! Thank you so much for sending in a prompt, I really enjoyed writing it! I hope you like it!!

not then, not now

buddie (1.6k) (read it on ao3)

The thing is, Buck knows that when Chim’s jokes are a little more biting than usual, it’s because he’s dead on his feet. Having a baby at home will do that to you. He knows that when Hen ignores him in favor of her textbooks, it’s because she’s stressed and being pulled in too many directions all at once. When Bobby lectures him, it’s because he cares. When Eddie retreats in on himself and won’t talk to him, it’s because he’s had to be fiercely independent his entire life, and he still struggles with leaning on the people that care about him.

In his head, Buck knows all of these things. It’s like he told Maddie, though: sometimes, he just doesn’t feel like he can trust it. Objectively, he can point to a hundred times his teammates have shown him they love him. Hell, they’ve told him. But in those little moments, he doesn’t feel it.

(“Exhausting.”

“What makes you say that, Evan?” Dr. Copeland asks.

“Eddie said it once.” Buck squirms uncomfortably.

“Do you think he meant it?”

“No,” Buck says, looking away.

“How did it make you feel?”)

So he does little things to make them feel better, and he tries not to make it about himself. He makes a cup of tea for Hen and doesn’t try to bring up the article he read the night before. He offers to babysit for Chim and Maddie and makes sure to laugh at Chim’s jokes, even if he has to force it. He spots Eddie in the gym and pointedly doesn’t ask why his jaw’s been clenched for the better part of an hour. He helps Bobby in the kitchen and does his best to look contrite when he’s scolded for not leaving the fire fast enough, even though there’d still been a bedroom left to check.

It’s been that kind of week. Still, he can’t help but chatter excitedly on the way back from a call that involved a sinkhole, because, like, sinkhole! It’s the first one he’s ever seen, and maybe the only natural disaster he’s never been called to before.

Hen shakes her head (fondly, right?) and sighs. “You’re a walking, talking Wikipedia, you know that?”

“Yeah, one that never shuts up,” Chim jokes, elbowing her.

He doesn’t mean anything by it. Buck knows he doesn’t mean anything by it, but he snaps his mouth shut anyway and offers a sheepish smile. Eddie shoots a glare at Chim, which Buck appreciates, but honestly, he’s not wrong. He keeps quiet the rest of the ride.

The rest of the week, actually. They could all use a break from him, Buck’s sure of it. They love him, he knows that, but it doesn’t mean they want to deal with him 24/7. That’s fine. It is.

Eddie ambushes him in the locker room on Monday morning. They’re just coming off a 24-hour shift, and Buck’s barely keeping his eyes open. They’d had call after call, virtually nonstop, and the only thing he can even begin to think about is going to bed. So when Eddie asks him what’s wrong, he’s genuinely confused.

“M’fine,” Buck yawns. “Tired,” he amends.

Eddie chuckles softly. “Yeah, me too.”

“Pretty sure I could sleep for a week,” Buck says.

Eddie nods in agreement. “If you’re willing to trade a week for ten hours, you want to come over for dinner? I know Christopher would love to see you. He’s been dying to tell you about the book he’s reading in class. Something about extreme weather?”

Buck wants to go. Of course he does. And Eddie’s inviting him, which means he wants him there. It wouldn’t be too much. Still though… “I don’t want to take up your family time with Chris,” he hedges, pulling his duffle onto his shoulder.

Eddie frowns. “You’re family too, Buck. You know that, right?”

To Buck’s horror, his eyes begin to sting. The combination of his exhaustion, a week’s worth of walking on eggshells, and Eddie being nice, just like he always is, is about to push Buck over the edge.

“‘Course,” he says roughly. “I’ll be there.”

Eddie narrows his eyes. It’s times like these when Buck curses just how well Eddie knows him. If he’s not out of this locker room in 30 seconds, Eddie’s going to clock that he isn’t just tired, and then he’s going to make Buck explain, and then Buck’s going to be putting his shit on someone else all over again.

“Buck,” Eddie starts.

“Gotta go, see you tonight. Text me the time!” Buck says in a rush, pasting a bright smile on his face and turning to leave as quickly as he can.

Eddie catches his elbow.

Too late.

“Please talk to me,” Eddie asks softly.

Buck feels himself deflate. “It’s stupid.”

“Not if it’s bothering you. And don’t tell me it’s not. We’ve all noticed something’s been off this week. We’re worried,” Eddie says. “I’m worried,” he amends, when Buck won’t look him in the eye.

He looks at Eddie and sees the care and concern written all over his face, and he just… can’t keep it in anymore. A tear slips past his lashes and rolls down his cheek. Eddie’s eyes widen. He raises a hand to Buck’s face and brushes away the tear, then leads him to the bench.

“Tell me,” he pleads.

“I don’t…” Buck trails off. It’s not that he doesn’t know what he’s feeling, not even that he has trouble putting it into words. He just can’t say it. “I can’t,” he whispers, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands.

“You can, Buck, I promise. Whatever it is, I’ve got your back, remember?”

Buck nods miserably. “I’m not going to make you carry my shit,” he says. “You’ve got enough to deal with as it is. I know something’s been bothering you, too.”

Eddie sighs. “You would notice that, wouldn’t you?”

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but whatever it is, I’m not going to add onto it with…” he trails off and waves his hand, as if to encompass everything he’s thinking.

“My parents want to visit,” Eddie says after a moment, “and I’m not looking forward to defending every decision I’ve ever made all over again. Especially not after… well, you know. That’s what’s been bothering me. Your turn.”

“Eddie, I-“

“Look, Buck. I appreciate you letting me work through it in my own time, but I’m not… keeping things from you. I just needed a minute. And I’m your friend, alright? I always want to know what’s going on in your head, even if I’ve got shit rattling around in mine, too. So tell me? Please?”

“I don’t want to be exhausting,” Buck says, voice small and quiet. He hunches his shoulders in, just like he did as a kid.

Eddie looks stricken, and Buck’s immediately hit with a wave of guilt and regret.

“I’m sorry,” Buck backtracks, “I shouldn’t have said that, I don’t-“

Eddie surprises him by surging forward and pulling him into a bruising hug. “I’m sorry,” he says into Buck’s ear. “I don’t think I ever said it, but I am. I didn’t mean it then, and I don’t think it now.”

“I know,” Buck says quietly. He returns the hug, but doesn’t quite relax into it.

Eddie pulls back a little and looks him in the eye, not letting go of his shoulders. “I don’t think you do,” he says.

“You don’t have to-“

“I do. Buck, you’re the most selfless person I know. You care about everyone else so much, and sometimes I wonder if that leaves enough space left for you. You matter, Buck, to all of us. Whatever it was we did this week that made you feel like this, we’re sorry. Every single person here loves you, and we want to know when something’s wrong, okay?”

Another tear tracks its way down Buck’s face. “Okay,” he whispers.

“C’mon,” Eddie says, standing and holding his hand out.

Buck takes it and stands, wiping his face with his other hand as he does. To his surprise, Eddie doesn’t let go; instead, he threads his fingers through Buck’s and pulls. Buck follows him helplessly as he leads him out of the locker room and back up the stairs to the firehouse loft. To his even greater surprise, the entire team is still there.

“What, uh, what are you guys still doing here?” Buck asks. His voice is steadier than before, but still comes out rougher than he’d like.

“Waiting for you,” Hen says, standing from the couch.

“Why?” Buck can’t help but ask. He knows. He knows, but… maybe he wants to hear her say it.

She gives him a look, like she knows he’s fishing, but indulges him anyway. “Because you’ve been down all week, and we care about you.”

Buck’s knee-jerk reaction is to tell her he’s fine, but then Eddie nudges him. It makes him want to laugh, because of course Eddie knows exactly what he was going to do. He shakes his head and smiles.

“I was feeling a little, uh, insecure, I guess.” Buck looks at his feet, but looks up as Hen walks closer, Bobby and Chimney following behind.

Hen nods, like she already knew. Honestly, she probably did. “And now?”

Eddie squeezes his hand. “Starting to feel better,” Buck grins.

“Good,” Hen nods, and then she’s hugging him.

“We love you, kid,” Bobby says, joining in.

Chim wraps his arms around all three of them. “Yeah we do, Buckaroo,” he says.

Eddie plasters himself along Buck’s back and puts a hand on his waist. He leans in close to his ear and quietly says, “and I’m not going to let you forget it.”

Buck sighs and relaxes into the hug. So what if he gets a little stuck in his head? He’s got a family that will always be there to pull him back out.

[seasonofthewicth]

A Groovy Kind of Love - Chapter 18

AN: Sorry for the two month wait, but we’re finally back!! I hope this chapter can make up for it! 

previous chapter - masterlist - ao3 - my askbox

-- 

Aelin had lost interest in the bowl of cereal sitting on the counter in front of her a long while ago. She twirled the silver spoon between her fingers, barely registering the clink of it against the edges of the bowl as her mind slumbered through the chatter between her two roommates. 

Aedion had been in the kitchen when she arrived, and Rowan had followed behind her a minute later. Aelin thought it was discrete enough that their timings could have easily been passed off as coincidence, as she had been hoping for the past week.

Concentrating on anything other than him had proven to be an impossible task when Rowan had slid onto the stool at her side, the scent of fresh pine that clung to him wrapping around her and stealing her focus as he murmured a greeting to herself and Aedion who stood across from her groaning at their sink. 

She hadn’t been paying attention to Aedion’s muttered complaints, lost in her thoughts of the morning she had spent in bed with Rowan, wrapped up in the hands that now rested on her upper thigh. The heady weight of his hand against her drew flashes of heat along her skin and she dropped any pretence of eating breakfast, the spoon chiming against the bowl as she dropped it.

Her attention was drawn to the scrape of his calloused thumb across the soft skin of the top of her thigh before her eyes pulled back up to Rowan’s. 

He offered her a small, sly smirk before dropping his gaze to the low neckline of her nightgown and back up again. A quirk of his lips that told her his mind was right alongside her own, lost in the thoughts of their slow and easy start to the morning. 

Rowan had woken her with soft kisses to the back of her neck-the same way he had woken her for the past few mornings-and she had buried her face into his pillow, revelling in the sensation of his lips against her neck and his hands around her waist. 

She hadn’t spent the night in her own bedroom for a while, it had been their unspoken agreement to share a bed in the nights following their long-awaited first date and Aelin had no regrets.

Rowan’s bedroom was exactly like him. The dark green sheets and dusky grey wallpaper were offset by splashes of light from rustic brass lamps in the corners of the room, dotted about were stacks of books and trinkets she liked to toss between her fingers as she demanded the backstory for each of them. He didn’t often pull back his blinds, a feature Aelin had never had a taste for until now, but it gave his room a dark and intoxicating feel. It was easy to get lost in the dark space, just the two of them, skin to skin.

His kisses had warmed as she had woken, upping their intensity until he was trailing his tongue up the line of her throat and she was writhing back against him. 

Rowan knew how to work her. 

He knew the scrape of his teeth underneath her ear would elicit a cry, he knew a tug of her hair would draw out a gasp, so quickly he had learned that pressing his fingers just so would leave her trembling. 

Aelin forced her attention back to the bowl in front of herself, dragging her gaze away from Rowan as she grasped the spoon again to lift a mouthful to her lips with a mostly steady hand. 

“Do you know where this goes?” Her cousin’s voice now sounded from below the counter, as a tanned hand held a length of pipe above the bench. 

“No.” Rowan’s voice was low, sounding bored as his thumb kept up the teasing strokes. “Don’t mess about with it, you’ll make it worse. Call the landlord.”

Aedion sighed as he stood up from below the sink, shooting Rowan an exasperated look. “The landlord is an asshole, last time he came around he couldn’t hold a conversation with me, he was too busy staring at Lysandra’s chest.” 

Rowan grunted his disgust and a line of tension ran through his shoulders at the thought. Aelin knew he wouldn’t be likely to call the landlord about an issue any time soon. 

“He is an asshole,” Aelin chimed in, ignoring the swipe of Rowan’s hand that left his fingertips resting gently in the space between her thighs. “Can we call someone else? Do we even need to? How hard can it be to fix a pipe?”

Aedion levelled her with a flat look. “Hard.”

At the word Rowan’s hand pressed more firmly against her and Aelin couldn’t help the jolt of her hips, pressing forward into Rowan’s hand, craving the friction, anything to release the pressure building within her. 

Rowan only drew his hand back, trailing his fingertips back down the length of her thigh. Aelin fought the sigh in her throat, stamping her teeth down on her bottom lip at the loss. 

It hadn’t taken Rowan long at all to learn his way around her body. It was something she both loved and hated, the game they played in his bed of teasing and taunting. She hadn’t experienced it like this before, Arobynn had been a lazy lover, seeking his own pleasure before rolling over and promptly falling asleep. 

Rowan had taken her breath away. Pounding into her relentlessly, his fingers gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, his other hand clamped across her mouth, holding in the cries she knew would give the game away to their roommates. 

He was tender afterwards, pressing kisses down the length of her spine as she lay sleepy and sated in his bed. He would stroke his broad hands down the curve of her waist as she came down from her high, whispering sweet nothings into her skin. 

Aelin loved it. 

“Morning,” Lysandra’s voice sounded from behind her, and Aelin managed a welcoming smile as her friend took a seat on the spare stool on her other side, her cousin and Rowan offering their own greetings. 

Lysandra dropped a knowing glance to Aelin’s lap, where Rowan’s hand was now barely visible beneath the hem of her baby blue nightgown and Aelin fought the blush that threatened at her friend’s smirk. And the matching one she knew Rowan wore. 

It was yet another new side to Rowan she had discovered, the smug side that owned the purely male smiles he wore, dripping in pride at the way she moaned his name, at the way she lay breathless after he had used his fingers and tongue to bring her to her release.

It hadn’t even been half an hour since they had finally left his bedroom in search of food and Aelin was ready to abandon their mission. 

“It can’t be that hard,” Rowan said, sounding completely composed as Aelin twisted her hips closer to his hand. He pinched the skin of her inner thigh in response, only hard enough to make her squirm. 

“Where did you get that from?” He motioned to the length of pipe clutched in Aedion’s hand. At his shrug Rowan shook his head and continued, “Did you loosen the valve?”

Aedion’s scoff was almost enough to drag Aelin out of her haze. “Do I look like I know what that is? Can you just come and fix it?”

Rowan looked back towards her, eyes shining with regret and a promise for later as he withdrew his hand and stood to approach the sink Aedion had yet to begin mending. 

Aelin missed the pressure of his skin against her own but couldn’t say she wasn’t grateful for the clarity in her mind. 

“Good morning?” Lysandra asked with an arch of a dark brow.

“I’ve had worse,” Aelin shrugged, tossing her golden hair over a shoulder as she clawed back any shreds of composure she normally possessed. 

Lysandra was the only person Aelin had fully confessed the progression in herself and Rowan’s relationship to, needing to speak it aloud to someone in the excitement that had followed their date. Her friend had indulged her, oohing and aahing at all the right moments in her story. Aelin knew her relationship with Rowan was different than it had been before, but she didn’t feel it needed a big announcement to their friends.

Lysandra’s smirk remained as she turned to look over towards where the two blond males stood crouched over the still leaking sink. Aelin allowed herself the luxury of taking in the sight of Rowan in a tight fitting cotton t-shirt, the tanned curves of his biceps, the left covered in striking whorls of ink. 

She watched the way his brow pulled into a frown and the way his teeth tugged at his lower lip in concentration as he tinkered with the tap. Her mind flashed with the image of the previous night when he had taken her lower lip between his teeth as he thrusted-

“You’re drooling,” Lysandra stage-whispered in her ear. 

Aelin snapped her mouth shut, subtly tapping a finger across the corner of her mouth, more than relieved to find it dry. “I could say the same for you.”

Lysandra cocked her head, “I have no shame in finding my boyfriend attractive.”

Aelin didn’t need to see herself to know her cheeks burned red but she was saved by the sound of Lorcan’s voice from the doorway behind her. 

“Don’t fucking make it worse,” He said as he brushed past where she sat with Lysandra to take the length of pipe out of Aedion’s hand, their tiny, midnight black kitten trotting at his heels. 

Aelin didn’t miss the grateful sigh that escaped her cousin as he scooped up the kitten and her dark-haired roommate took over the tinkering with their sink. 

“You shouldn't have touched it,” Lorcan snapped as he batted Aedion further away from the sink and sunk into a crouch before the counter, her cousin drifting over to stand against the bench next to Lysandra.

“Should be fixed in no time,” Rowan said with a nod to Lorcan as he reclaimed his seat next to her, quickly slipping his hand back onto her thigh. Aelin ignored the smile Lysandra flashed at her, her eyes no doubt tracking the motion. 

“Good morning,” Fenrys’ voice broke the easy silence that had fallen over the kitchen. “I hope to the gods one of you thought to make coffee.”

He stood out among the gathering in the kitchen, fully dressed in jeans and a shirt while the rest of the loft wore an array of pyjamas and sweats. Aelin could have believed he was freshly dressed for the day had one side of his golden curls not sat slightly deflated. 

It seemed her cousin shared her assessment, “Where have you just got back from? Busy night?”

Fenrys’ smile turned all too sweet as he glanced to where Aelin sat, filling a mug almost to the brim with coffee before taking a long sip. After a sigh, he said, “A gentleman never tells.”

A snort from Rowan at her side. “Shouldn’t stop you.”

“You normally love to brag about that shit,” Lorcan chimed in from his perch under the sink. 

“True,” Fenrys admitted with a grin before turning to Aelin. “You really missed a trick with Dorian, you know.”

Aelin grinned. “I’m devastated. Truly.”

Fenrys returned her smile as he slapped his palm against the one Aedion held outstretched at the comment. “I would recommend you give it a go, but I think he might be occupied from now on.”

Aelin opened her mouth, ready to express her happiness at what she knew was blooming between her friends but Lorcan beat her to it. 

“I don’t think she needs Havilliard, have none of you noticed her room has been empty for days?”

Rowan’s thumb stilled above her knee. 

“What?” Aedion’s eyes flicked to her own as he spoke. 

Lorcan rose from the floor, wiping his hands off against his baggy t-shirt, a shit-eating grin threatening at his lips. Aelin stared him down, and she knew Rowan was doing the same. 

He cocked his head at her, locks of his dark hair sliding forward over his shoulder. “I have the bedroom closest to their end of the loft, even so I’m surprised none of you have heard the noises coming from Whitethorn’s room.” 

He didn’t break eye contact as he revealed her little secret, but Aelin didn’t miss a beat. “If you like listening so much you’re always welcome to join.”

Lorcan shook his head, “I’m good. This loft doesn’t need to get anymore incestuous.”

“What?” Aelin asked, stumped for a moment. “Rowan and I…” She trailed off at the matching grins on each of her roommates’ faces. 

“What are we missing?” Lysandra asked, a smile dancing through her words even though she sounded as clueless as Aelin. 

Lorcan shifted his attention to her dark-haired friend. “You mean Aedion hasn’t told you how we all met?”

Aelin felt Rowan shaking silently at her side, still gripping her thigh as he reigned in his laughter. The touch had lost its teasing, but she still enjoyed his hands on her, nonetheless. 

Lysandra shook her head. 

“Let me set the scene,” Lorcan began with a grin before Fenrys stepped forward to interrupt. 

“You weren’t there, we had the misfortune of meeting you on Craigslist years later. You’ll get it wrong.”

Lorcan held a hand up in surrender. 

Fenrys continued the tale with a smirk, leaning forward against the island in front of Lysandra. “You know your boyfriend met Whitethorn at college.”

A nod from Lysandra. 

“Roommates for what?” Her cousin asked, looking at Rowan. “Ten years, nearly?”

“Unfortunately for me,” Rowan muttered but Aelin read the begrudging smile in his voice. 

“Now I met Aedion on the football team,” Fenrys told Lysandra, his tone wistful as he reminisced. “He was the year above me, the captain, and sexy as hell.”

Aelin let out a groan as Lorcan raised his brows at her with a nod. 

“All blond hair and blue eyes. Good genes Galathynius,” Fenrys continued with a nod to Aelin. “How was I to resist?”

“No,” Lysandra breathed, a shocked smile curling at the corners of her lips. 

“Yes,” Fenrys’ eyes were shining with glee as the realisation dawned. 

“They sexiled me for almost my entire senior year.” Rowan’s voice rumbled close to her year, filled with reluctant amusement. 

“Sorry, man,” Aedion said with a shrug. “Needs must, you know? But then he got far too annoying.” 

Fenrys flipped him off over his mug of coffee, his smile still standing strong. 

“It was the start of a beautiful friendship.” Fenrys’ eyes were twinkling with mischief and Aelin cackled with delight at Rowan’s sigh. 

“And then we met you.” His voice was soft at her side and as she looked to Rowan she knew her own expression was just as fond. 

--

The autumn air of Rifthold had a bit of a bite to it, far cooler than the mild seasons back in Doranelle. In his time in Rifthold he had learned that the seasons were far starker here than back at home. 

Summer was clammy and close, spring was fresh and bright, winter; cold and harsh in his lungs, and then autumn. The dimming of the light and the closing in of the nights that were characteristic of a Rifthold autumn were a lifetime away from the year round bright sunshine of Doranelle.

Rowan had had to slip on a t-shirt beneath his usual flannel before leaving for his shift, and even now, deep within the heart of the bar he was glad for it. The cool breeze that drifted in each and every time the door swung open, letting patrons in and out, had him slinging prayers of thanks to his earlier self for the forethought. 

The breeze that followed his raven-haired roommate was brisk but Lorcan, as always, was unaffected, clad only in a thin grey t-shirt. 

Lorcan slumped into a stool at the bar with a nod, not needing to speak before Rowan had handed over a cool pint. His friend took a long gulp, downing almost half the glass before dropping it back to the bar and releasing a tired sigh. 

“I’m going to quit my job.”

Shit. 

“Why?” Rowan asked eventually, his tone wary.

Lorcan shrugged, the hand resting along the bar curling up into a loose fist. “A number of reasons.”

Rowan narrowed his eyes. The effort that went into getting Lorcan to open up was comparable to trying to get Fenrys to shut up. “Such as?”

His friend dragged the hand that rested on the bar through his hair, the sable strands drawing back before immediately falling down across his forehead again. A futile, frustrated gesture.

After a moment Lorcan spoke, “I’m not allowed to work under my girlfriend, and this new transfer is boring as fuck.” He took another moment, inhaling a deep breath and frowning. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. It’s not what I expected when I first started, and I don’t think it ever will be.”

Rowan opened his mouth before closing it again, debating his best strategy, and he leaned forward to brace his hands on the bar in front of him. 

“Do you want to know what I think, or do you want to drown your sorrows in silence?”

Lorcan shot him a dark glare, but Rowan had been at this long enough to know it wasn’t just an unfounded stereotype of his job. He normally knew at a glance or a greeting whether patrons wanted conversation or not, he could read people pretty well after a few years in this gig, but his friend was far from an open book, and bluntness often worked best with Lorcan.  

At his silence Rowan spoke. “I think you should do what makes you happy.” 

Lorcan rolled his eyes but Rowan continued. “You know it’s what any of us would tell you.”

“I could have gone to either of the Ashryvers for that shit, seems like Galathynius has been rubbing off on you.”

Rowan ignored the comment, and the hidden innuendo, determined not to let his friend shrug this off. 

“And yet here you are.” Rowan mopped up a couple of drops of spilled beer off the bar top before he spoke again. “You’ve been seeing Elide for a while, been in the new department for a while, and it’s been fine. Why change now?” 

Lorcan twisted away, taking another long swig of his beer before shrugging his shoulders. Rowan could almost see his reluctance to speak in the tightness of his swallow, the tension running through his arms.

Lorcan sighed, a sharp release of breath through his nose, before turning back to face Rowan.

“You see how Aedion is, he actually gives a shit about what he does. I couldn’t care less about filing reports on petty theft and missing bikes. It made me think.”

Rowan shook his head, fighting a somewhat inappropriate smile. “First of all, Aedion is fucking weird, he thinks marketing is some life-altering necessity that makes the world turn around. Remember when he went crazy trying to sell sponges to men?” 

He paused to share a grin with Lorcan. “Secondly, I’m not convinced many people actually care that much about their jobs. I don’t.”

Lorcan finally twisted fully around to face him, his brows drawn in, and Rowan swallowed. 

“Bartending was supposed to be a temporary means to an end, I don’t think I’ve found my true calling, but it’s fine. I’m not sure everyone finds that niche that they love.”

His friend’s lips twisted to one side. “But shouldn’t we?”

Rowan waited, sensing his normally stoic friend had more he wanted to say, sensing there was more he needed to say. 

“Aedion and Aelin they… They both come back to the loft everyday smiling and jabbering on about whatever they’ve achieved that day. It’s annoying as shit but-” He took another sharp breath, releasing it with an almost grunt. “Shouldn’t we feel like that?”

He didn’t often hear Lorcan at such a loss, he normally stuck to sarcastic quips and snappish barbs and Rowan himself took a deep breath as he considered his response. 

Lorcan wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t sure he was right. His job was fine and that was enough. He enjoyed the day to day, made enough money to pay his rent and he got to see his friends while he was on shift. Was anything more necessary?

He took the coward’s way out. “What does Elide say?”

Lorcan saw through him but seemed to let it slide. “Same as you, that if it will make me happy I should do it.”

Rowan nodded. Elide, in the small number of times he had met her, had always carried an air of wisdom around her, a settled confidence in what she did and what she thought. A good match for his friend who could be somewhat challenging at times. 

“What will you do instead?”

Quitting his job was fine, but there had to be something else. Was there any point quitting his job only to land back in another mindless routine? Unless there was something else lined up.

“A friend of mine has a private security firm,” Lorcan shrugged his broad shoulders before finishing off his beer. “He’s asked me about joining before, whether I’d give up the force, and my answer has always been no.” 

Until now, Rowan filled in the gaps. 

“It pays pretty well too,” Lorcan’s voice had taken back an element of his usual dry humour. “Which I’ll need now that the bet about you and Aelin has been called off.”

Rowan flipped his friend off with a scowl, muttering an insult under his breath. 

“I was supposed to win five-hundred bucks,” Lorcan revealed, a dark smile brewing across his face now that the conversation was back to more familiar territory. 

“Pity.” Rowan snarked as he turned away to serve another customer, stewing on the things Lorcan had said. 

Even though he had grown to love the bar since starting a few years ago, surely there should have been some progression as he neared thirty. The role that had seemed to be a perfect fit at twenty-two, the flexibility it offered… it was a good choice at the time. Fresh out of university with no clear plan, the job had landed in his lap. He’d never had to challenge himself. 

Not like Malakai, who cared about his business and had poured so much of himself into curating something with an elegant charm out of the dingy dive bar it had been when he had bought it. 

The wooden panels of the bar were sleek and smooth after years of glasses and elbows and palms passing over them, the leather of the booths was softened and faded after years of use but it didn’t look shabby. It was a place of comfort and ease, but with a quiet kind of pride about it. 

But was it enough?

He returned to Lorcan, sliding another pint across the bar that his friend accepted with a nod. 

Rowan knew who he wanted to talk to about the thoughts running through his mind, he and Aelin had barely been dating for a week and he knew he wanted to share these thoughts with her. He wanted her advice and knew he would value any insight she could offer. 

Rowan knew she’d listen with an attentive ear, logically sifting through the jumbled thoughts in his brain and shaping them into something decipherable. Aelin was more than her beauty or her sense of humour, she was wickedly sharp and perceptive and smart. 

Lorcan raised a dark brow at the intensity of the sigh Rowan let out. 

“Anything you’d like to share with the class?”

“No,” Rowan’s answer was short. There was nothing he wanted to share with Lorcan. 

His friend shrugged, unfazed at Rowan’s dismissal and he took another swig of his beer before speaking again. “Feels like a time for change, and not just me.”

Rowan cocked his head, it seemed as though Lorcan was in a talkative mood tonight.

“There’s you and Galathynius,” Rowan fought the thrill that ran through him at the mention of him and Aelin as a unit, as a pair, as Lorcan continued. “And I think Aedion’s going to ask Lysandra to move in with him.”

This was news to Rowan. “In the loft, or somewhere else?”

Lorcan shook his head. “I don’t know, but it wouldn’t be much different if she moved in with us.” 

Lorcan paused, seeming to mull over the possibilities as Rowan was doing. He and Aedion had lived together for so long Rowan supposed he took it for granted to always have his best friend in such close proximity. 

It made sense for it to one day reach an endpoint, Rowan just hadn’t expected it to feel so soon. 

He glanced back to Lorcan, his friend’s decision still lingering in his mind.

Rowan needed to make sure he wouldn’t be left behind. 

-- 

Coming home to Rowan was a thought that always made Aelin smile. 

There was always a nervous flutter in her stomach as the elevator made it’s ascent towards the loft, the twisting and turning reaching a crescendo as the elevator doors opened, facing the hallway and the doorway that had led her to Rowan only a few months ago. 

Now however, she took the steps to her home, smiling at the knowledge that Rowan would be behind the door waiting for her to return. 

The elevator doors opened with a chime and Aelin stepped out into the hallway, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder as she made her way home. The hallway wasn’t long and the doors were thin enough that any sounds within the number of lofts on their floor were audible in the open space, usually muffled enough to offer moderate privacy unless the sounds from within the lofts were particularly loud. 

The raised voices from within loft 4D were loud enough to carry, but as Aelin slowed her steps towards the door no words were clearly defined. She lingered in the hallway, not wanting to intrude on whatever was going on behind the closed door. 

Abruptly, the argument stopped, and Aelin took a step further towards her own front door. She hadn’t yet made it down the length of the hall, her keys still tangled between her fingers, when the door swung open in front of her. 

Rowan’s face was carefully calm, but she could see the storm brewing in his eyes, and she could feel the frustration rolling off him in waves. The moment his eyes beheld her the tension leaked out of his body in a flood and a small smile worked its way onto his lips. His gaze softened as his eyes did a gentle sweep of her from head to toe. 

Aelin offered him a small smile in greeting. “Everything okay in there?” A nod to the door behind him.

Rowan seemed to shake himself, rolling his shoulders back as he reached her and wrapped his hands around her waist. Aelin relaxed into the touch, loving the feeling of his arms around her and tucking her face into his chest. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head and she smiled as she pulled back to look up at him. 

She lifted a palm to cup his cheek as she repeated, “You okay?”

“Of course,” He ducked to press his lips to hers for a second, far too brief for Aelin’s liking. She slid the hand on his cheek to cup the back of his neck, holding him to her for a second longer. 

Aelin felt Rowan’s smile against her lips as he kissed her once more, his lips parting softly against her own. 

“I have to get to work,” He said, pulling back again and sounding far from pleased at the idea, his hands tightening at her waist. “Can we talk when I get back?”

“Sure,” She said slowly, concerned at his request so soon after overhearing an apparent argument between him and one of their other roommates. “Anything I should be worried about?”

Something flickered across Rowan’s face, almost too fast for her to catch, but he pressed his lips to hers one final time before drawing away. 

“No,” He said quickly, stepping past her to head to the elevator. “It’s all good, we’ll talk later. But I’ll see you in my bed when I get back?”

Aelin fought the lick of heat that bloomed within her at his words as her lips pulled up into a sultry smile. “I’ll see you there.”

Rowan shot her one last longing glance as he stepped into the lift and Aelin focused herself as she stepped into the loft. 

It was quiet now, no sign of the earlier argument that must have taken place close to the now-shut door. 

“Hello,” She called into the space, chucking her keys into a bowl on the cabinet by the door and hooking her bag over the coat rack. 

“In here, Ae.” 

Aedion’s voice sounded from around the corner and she stepped into the living room to see him sprawled across their couch. His defeated expression told her he had been the one she had overheard talking with Rowan and the wary look he gave her as he took her in all but confirmed it. 

“You heard that, huh?”

“Yep,” She said, throwing herself into the seat by his side and tucking her feet up beneath herself, resting her head against his arm. “Anything you want to talk about?”

He might not want to talk to her about it, knowing what she was to Rowan, but he was still her cousin and she cared for him. She wanted to make sure he knew he could talk to her. 

Aedion blew out a sigh, lifting his eyes to their ceiling. Aelin waited, knowing Aedion wasn’t the type to keep his feelings bottled up. 

“Do you know?” He asked at last, his voice carefully measured and Aelin felt her heart stutter. 

“Know what?” She said slowly, her heart restarting faster than it had been before.

Aedion winced as she sat up to look at him more directly, sensing she hadn’t a clue what he was talking about. 

“Know what, Aedion?” She repeated, swallowing the uneasy feeling at whatever was to follow. 

“That he’s got a job in Doranelle.”

-- 

tags:

@jesstargaryenqueen​

@maybekindasortaace​

@slytheringalathynius​

@http-itsrebecca​

@morganofthewildfire​

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​

@fictional-horan​

@tottenhamboys20

@dressedindustandshadows​

@sleeping-and-books​

@perseusannabeth​

@ireallyshouldsleeprn​

@superspiritfestival​

@aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

@spyofthenightcourt​

@jlinez​

@queen-of-glass​

@booknerdproblems​

@sjmships​

@elriel4life​

@bamchickawowow​

@woollycat22​

@claralady​

@illyrianwitchling

@SHINYA-HIIRAGI

@fangirlprincess09​

@darlinminds​

@bookittothelibrary1 

@thenerdandfandoms​

@danibutterr​

@inthecityair​

@autophobiaxx​​

@imaginedhaven​

please as always let me know if there are any issues with tags

[detectivereyes]

I’ll Fall Back Into You, Like I Always Do

Summary: Carlos falls off the bed because TK has no spacial awareness when he sleeps

Note: inspired by a few anons that asked about my opinions on tarlos sleeping habits, and by @howtosingit ‘s own posts on the subject.

Beta’d by my faves - @marjansmarwani and @firefighterstrand

read on ao3

Blinking away the darkness only to find more darkness and the staticy mess of implied colour where his brain tried to process his abysmal visual intake, Carlos is confused at first. Taking in the dark shapes of his bedroom, he tries to piece together what woke him up when he feels TK softly breathing next to him, pressed up against his side.

He smiles looking at the other man. He learned quickly once they started spending the night together that TK enjoyed the close contact while he slept. While they would start the night on their respective sides of the bed, TK would inevitably end up curled up against Carlos, absorbing all of the heat radiating from his body. Not that Carlos minded, but when it got to the point that it pulled him out of his deep sleep he would be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly annoyed.

As he closes his eyes to try and return to his previous restful state, he feels a shove from his side as TK spreads out more. Carlos tries to shift to give him more room, but as he rolls over expecting to have more room, he suddenly finds himself in a freefall off the side of the bed.

Though his bed is not that high off the ground, the distance feels twice as long as his body falls through the air before meeting the floor, with most of his weight coming down on his right ankle.

“Shit,” he quietly curses under his breath. He shifts up to a seated position, and peaks over the bed to see TK completely sprawled out across the bed. He can’t decide whether to laugh or roll his eyes.

He tries to suppress the groan that escapes his mouth as he moves his ankle. He must not do a very good job because at the small noise, TK begins to stir.

“Carlos?” He opens his eyes sleepily. “Why are you on the floor?”

“Because you pushed me off,” Carlos replies, trying his best to mask the wince as he pushes the rest of his body off the floor and rolls back onto the bed.

TK furrows his brow and scoots closer to Carlos. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Carlos gives him a reassuring smile. “Go back to sleep, babe”

“Okay,” TK mumbles into Carlos, pressing a soft kiss into his neck before rolling back over onto his side of the bed.

Carlos’ smile eagerly drops as soon as TK has his back to him. The throbbing in his ankle has not let up, even after he moved onto the bed. He closes his eyes, hoping that with rest it will get better. 

Maybe if he sleeps well enough, it will be completely fine when he wakes up.

At least he can hope.

The next time he blinks his eyes open, he finds his bedroom now flooded with sunlight. 

It doesn’t take long after that for him to notice the soreness radiating throughout his body, but the worst by far is the ache in his ankle. It isn’t until he feels TK shifting against him, once again finding his place pressed up against Carlos’ side that the memories from just a few hours earlier come flooding back.

He tries to shift slightly without disturbing TK too much but it doesn’t work. He feels TK’s long lashes fluttering against his side, signaling that the other man is now waking up.

“Good morning,” Carlos greets him, running his fingers through TK’s bed head to further wake him.

TK moans into Carlos' side before bringing his head up and resting it on Carlos’ chest. “Hi,” he replies with a sleepy smile. He moves his head to press some soft kisses to Carlos’ stomach, fully taking advantage of the fact that Carlos always sleeps shirtless. Even if he was cold enough to wear a shirt, Carlos would never do it now just because it would prevent TK from getting as close to him as physically possible.

Working his way up to the top of Carlos’ chest, he stops short of the other man’s neck and pouts. “I have to shower since I wasn’t able to grab one when I got off shift yesterday,” his pout morphs into a coy smile. “Though, you could always join me?”

Carlos wants to say yes. He loves the thought of standing under the hot shower with TK, letting the warm water soothe his aching body. But he also is unsure of how bad his ankle really is, having only used it to move from the floor to the bed. Additionally, he knows that TK would be able to tell something was wrong right away and his overprotective boyfriend would likely freak out and insist on him seeing a doctor. Something that Carlos would prefer to avoid for something as minor as what’s probably only a sprained ankle.

“As tempting as that sounds, I think I’m just going to put a pot of coffee on,” he says, ignoring TK’s playful pout at his response. “Make it a quick shower and maybe I’ll have a hot breakfast ready for you when you get out.”

“You drive a hard bargain Carlos Reyes, but I’m sold,” TK smiles, pressing one last kiss to Carlos’ lips before pushing himself off the bed and disappearing out of the room and into the bathroom.

With TK out of sight, Carlos takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut. He can only hope that the pain he’s been suppressing while in TK’s presence isn’t as bad as he thinks it is. If he’s still in bed when TK gets out of the shower, the other man is sure to figure out something’s up.

Mustering up all his strength, Carlos forces his body out of his comfortable bed and swings his legs over the side. He stands up carefully, testing exactly how much weight he can put on his ankle before the pain is too unbearable. 

Not much weight, he soon realizes when he sees stars upon taking the first step. 

But he can do this. He tells himself it’s just a minor sprain. 

Or not so minor; if the throbbing pain in each step is any indication. 

He contemplates slipping on the sweatpants draped over the chair, but he realizes that would require more steps walking across the room. So he settles for staying in his boxers for the time being and limps his way out of the bedroom.

He makes it to the top of the stairs before sighing and shifting some of his weight to the top of the railing. He mentally curses at himself for picking the condo that had stairs. Though he loves the loft aesthetic of his home, the feature was soon proving to do more harm than good. 

Sucking in a deep breath, he takes the first step down and confirms his worst fears. Yes, the stairs are not doing his ankle any favors. Grimacing, he slowly makes his way down the staircase, doing his best to only put minimal weight on his ankle and relying heavily on the railing he is now thankful he put in.

He reaches the bottom of the stairs and limps across the living room and into the kitchen. With each step, he finds the pain in his ankle to only get worse. But he powers through, turning on the coffee brewer before moving over to the fridge and grabbing two eggs to crack over the pan on the stove. He would normally come up with something fancier for breakfast, but he figures scrambled eggs are the easiest choice and require the least amount of movement around the space.

A few minutes later, he’s setting two spots at the table with a plate full of scrambled eggs and toast. Just in time to spot TK coming down the stairs, shaking the water droplets out of his wet hair and dressed in Carlos’ favorite blue hoodie that’s faded from one-too many washes, and a pair of tight black jeans.

When he spots Carlos standing in the kitchen in nothing but his underwear, TK smiles. “I see we decided not to get dressed today.”

“It is our day off after all,” Carlos smirks. “And I personally think you are wearing too much clothing for my liking.”

“I guess we’ll have to see what we can do about that,” TK says with a raise of his eyebrows.

Carlos laughs and shakes his head, before moving to grab the two cups of coffee off the counter and place them on the table with their breakfast. When he looks up at TK again, he finds that the other man has moved closer and the smile has fallen from his face.

“You’re limping,” he notes with concern evident in his voice.

“Am I?”

“Yeah, what happened?”

Carlos bites his lip, shifting uncomfortably. He doesn’t necessarily want to admit that he sustained the injury as a result of TK’s sleeping habits, knowing that his boyfriend would be overcome with guilt if he knew the truth. Unfortunately his poker face isn’t as great as he wishes it was, and he waits too long to answer, noticing how TK’s face contorts as he puts the pieces together.

“Did this happen when you fell off the bed last night?”

“You mean when you pushed me off the bed?” Carlos jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood, but the concerned look doesn’t leave TK’s face. 

“I hurt you,” TK says quietly.

“Hey,” he reaches over and grabs TK’s hand to reassure him. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“Can I take a look at it?”

Carlos nods and TK slides up next to him, draping his arm around Carlos’ broad shoulders and helping him over to the couch.

“Our breakfast is going to get cold,” Carlos says as TK pulls his ankle up to take a closer look at the joint.

“We can heat it up later. You should not have been walking on this. It looks really swollen, Carlos.”

“I didn’t notice.”

TK gives him a look that screams I don’t buy your bullshit. “Really? You didn’t notice that your right ankle is purple and nearly twice the size as your left?”

“Yeah?” Carlos gives him a small smile.

TK shakes his head. “Get dressed, I’m taking you to get checked out at the hospital.”

“Okay, now that’s an overreaction, TK. It’s just a bad sprain.”

“I don’t know,” TK hesitates, pressing his lips together and studying Carlos carefully.

Carlos gives him a pleading look. “You just checked it out and I’m sure it’s fine. I have an ice pack in the freezer that will help with the swelling and some compression bandages in the bathroom cabinet.”

“Fine,” TK sighs in defeat before getting up and heading to the bathroom to grab the bandages and stopping in the kitchen on the way back to grab the ice pack. He hands the cold blue pack to Carlos and places the bandages on the coffee table. “We’ll ice it for a little and then when the swelling goes down, I can wrap it for you.”

Carlos nods, hissing at the cold contact on his swollen joint. Instead of TK sitting down next to him, Carlos watches as the other man moves back into the kitchen. He stares at him confused, before realizing what he’s up to when he grabs the plates off the table, bringing them into the living room and does the same with their coffee mugs.

“Thank you,” Carlos graciously accepts his cup. 

They eat their now luke-warm breakfast in silence for the most part, with only the sounds of the forks scratching the plate and the occasional clink of one of their mugs sitting back on the table after a sip filling the space. 

As they finish up, TK leans over and removes the ice pack to take a look at Carlos’ ankle. “I think the swelling has gone down a little. Want me to wrap it now?”

“Okay,” Carlos agrees and watches as TK moves to grab the badges and slowly begins to softly wrap his ankle. “You don’t have to feel bad about this, you know. It’s not your fault.”

“It kinda is.”

“You were asleep.”

“Still,” TK shrugs as he finishes winding up the bandage. “I had no idea how much I moved in my sleep. I literally pushed you out of your own bed, Carlos.” “Yeah, but if you’re asleep then there’s no way for you to be aware of it.”

“Well, I’m still sorry,” he says leaning into Carlos’ larger frame. 

“You shouldn’t have to apologize, but I do forgive you,” Carlos says, wrapping his arm around TK. “But maybe I’ll rethink how my room is set up and rearrange it so my side of the bed is pressed against the wall.”

“Might not be a bad idea,” TK chuckles, snuggling closer to Carlos.