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ithinkabouthowtothink · 3 years

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Old Times - Part III

Rafe x Reader go on their first date. But something, more like someone, from Reader’s recent past shows up causing Rafe to come undone.

Warnings: argument, pure smut, fingering, unprotected sex

Part II Part IV

The clacking of your heels on the white tile echo around you as you walk into your living room. A full length mirror leans against the wall. You take in your appearance making any last minute changes due to your anxious mind. But you don’t need to. Red fabric clinging against your body as you turn to check the back of the dress and it accents all the right places. Rafe won’t be able to keep his hands off you.

Your chest heavy as you think about the way he will look at you. Wide hungry eyes and busy hands. You hope you’re up all night with him. It’s been two and a half weeks since you had Rafe all to yourself and one less day since you made plans to see each other. But as life usually happens as you make plans Rafe had construction jobs get pushed longer and couldn’t get away. Thank God for FaceTime. You speak every day and it’s nice to have him back in your life. Rafe has told you so many new things he has picked up in his life. He enjoys cooking even though he gets to cook for one he still loves it, he says he’s pretty good at it too. He works out more than before since quitting his drug addiction. At first when he mentioned the substance abuse you would tense up and immediately wanted to change the conversation. Soon you came to realize the importance of being there for Rafe. If he is able to forgive himself and be strong enough to overcome all of that then you can easily listen to him. The changes he has made are adamant and you’re proud to know him now.

Rafe offered to pick you up from your apartment but you decline wanting to meet him at the restaurant. In your mind it made things more exciting somehow.

You grab your keys and lock up your apartment before heading down to the car park. The drive to Beck’s feels so long even though it’s only 10 miles from your place. As you pull up to the restaurant valet is waiting five cars deep. You sigh seeing young men around the age of 16 running around in bright white shirts on the dark night. One runs over to you after what feels like forever with a sweaty forehead. He places a hand on top of your car and leans forward into the passenger side.

“Hi ma’am sorry about the wait. Friday nights are always busy.” The young man excuses through heavy breathing.

“No worries.” You smile as you get out of your side holding it open for the guy to get in. He runs over to your side and hands you a white ticket.

You stride over to the black canopy shading over the entrance. You can hear the smooth strum of jazz music as another young man opens the door for you with a nod as you walk through. Your eyes look over to the clock hanging on the wall in the waiting area and you notice you’re 15 minutes early. The table probably isn’t ready yet. Rafe probably isn’t here yet.

“Good evening. Name?” A woman with kind eyes asks from a wooden podium as the light from an iPad glows in the dark room. Low lights everywhere to set the mood before you’re even sat.

“Hello, name should be under Cameron, Rafe. I’m a little early.” You nervously laugh at your eagerness.

The women smiles politely then takes her attention to the iPad as she taps and swipes across the device.

“Oh, yes. He paid extra to get a table before his time because he arrived early. He seems very nervous too.” She leaned closer to fill you in.

“And he looks quite nice. A few ladies did a double take when he walked in.” She continued as she raised an eyebrow. She’s much older then your parents so you take all of this with heart as she gushes.

“I’ll make sure to keep my eye out.” You wink as you tuck your hair behind your ear. She laughs at your wit and steps out from behind the stand.

“I’ll walk you over, Dear.” She smiles and puts her hands together as she walks you past the busy tables of couples. You see Rafe before he spots you. He’s sitting facing you with a glass of water almost empty in front of him. He’s looking down at his suit jacket and opens it to straighten his black tie. He looks up and eyes the room then a wide tooth smile spreads across his face as his blue eyes meet yours. He stands up quick almost knocking his chair over. He catches it last minute and you giggle at his actions.

“You two have a lovely night.” The hostess smiles genuinely as Rafe walks over to your chair. She leaves you two to your date and your chest becomes heavy instantly.

“Hi.” You smile as Rafe’s tall figure towers over you. Matching black jacket and slacks cover him. You didn’t think he could look any better than he normally does but you eat your words as he stands above you looking beautiful in his suit. He brings a hand up to your neck and lightly pecks your cheek. You know he wants to do much more but he can’t and you want to scold yourself for being in public.

“Hi.” Rafe whispers against your cheek. His thumb lightly moving back and forth as you lean into his hand before he pulls away. He walks to your chair and pulls it open for you. You smile wider at him as you take your long awaited seat and he pushes your chair in for you. A proper date. Off to a good start.

“You look beautiful.” He gushes once he is sat across from you. You catch his eyes move to your exposed cleavage and you smirk at him. He is so easy.

“I would believe you if I didn’t just catch that.” You scold him with a grin. You both begin to laugh at how serious this date is. You feel so out of place.

“You do look beautiful. Red is your color, baby.” Rafe compliments. Hearing him mutter that nickname he used to use makes your heart flutter. Suddenly you feel 19 again.

“Seeing you in a suit is doing things to me Mr. Cameron.” You flirt back knowing he loves when you call him that. He raises an eyebrow and shifts in his seat.

“Be careful, Y/N. We’ll have to skip straight to dessert if you can’t control that mouth.” He fires back. He licks the corner of his mouth and you swallow hard wanting so bad to test his words. Starting over is going to be tough tonight.

Luckily the waiter comes to take your drink orders. Rafe insists no wine for him just more water but you ask for a glass of Cabernet. Your drinks come quick and he allows time for you to overlook the menu.

“So tell me how your family is. How’s Sarah and Wheezie?” You were never close with Sarah due to the age gap maybe or the fact that you were too busy being consumed with Rafe. Wheezie on the other hand was always sweet and innocent.

Rafe takes a sip of water and slides a hand over his suit jacket. His gold ring reflecting in the low yellow light.

“Well, Wheezie is dating now. Can you believe that? Little Wheeze running around with guys, she’s 18 now so I guess that’s normal.” He shakes his head. Unbelievable that his littlest sister grew up so fast.

“Wow, 18? And boys? I figured she’d be into studies and looking at colleges.” You question as you take a drink of your wine.

“I know, I know. I did too. And Sarah is still kicking things with John B. I’m glad she’s happy. They have a place on The Cut and she really seems to enjoy it out there. I can’t judge though since I’m still at home with Ole Dad.” Rafe fills you in and clicks his tongue at his last sentence. You knew Sarah and Ward hit a bump once she began dating John B. But you are surprised to hear she’s out on the other side of the island. I guess the whole Kooks and Pogues bit is real for a lot of people.

“No, you shouldn’t feel bad for still being home. Do you feel like you should leave?” You question him really wanting to know. He sounds sad when he says it.

The waiter politely interrupts again to get your food orders. He takes the menus and nods once you say what you’d like. Your food comes quickly as you catch up.

“Rafe, have you looked at other places?” You pry again. He scratches the side of his neck and rubs the back of his head. You remember when felt like a burden still being at home. You didn’t leave until you were 20 so you can only imagine how Rafe feels.

“Uhm yeah kinda. I like still being home but there’s not as much privacy as I thought. You know with Rose coming and going.” Rafe let’s out a small laugh as he gestures to you referencing to that night.

“Yeah.” You clench your teeth and join his laugh. The two of you used to have sex wherever you could without getting caught when you were younger but now is when you do. Life is funny that way.

“How about your parents?” He asks but he knows how they are. You watch him stick his fork into his steak and slice down to cut himself a piece. It happens in slow motion as you watch him turn the fork up and into his mouth. His cheeks puff out as he chews the piece of meat. He does everything well.

“Nothing new I guess. Well, I think my mom may hate me since we’re dating again but I won’t hold my breath.” You laugh out as you twirl your fork into your pasta.

“Dating, yeah?” Rafe raises an eyebrow in between chews.

You pinch your thigh as you realize what you just said. You two hadn’t even mentioned what this is yet. Why would you think you’re dating?

“I didn’t mean t-. We don’t have to talk about it. I’m sorry.” You weakly smile and your face heats up immediately. You grab your glass and down the rest of your alcohol to give you courage to get through this moment.

“No, no I like that you said that. But things are moving pretty fast for a first date.” Rafe smirks as he takes a drink from his water. He always knows how to make you squirm. You roll your eyes at him and sit back in your seat.

“This is nice, Rafe. Thank you for taking the time to come all the way out here to see me.” You reach across the white table cloth for his hand. He cups your hand into his swallowing it up. You lean your head into your shoulder and just admire him before you. Now it feels like five years was worth it. For you to find yourself, for Rafe to trust himself. Right person, wrong time means so much to you now because it’s true.

“Thank you for giving me another chance Y/N.” He gives your hand a sincere squeeze. Now would be a great time to reach over and kiss him. After being away from each other for two weeks you really need him.

“Rafe, want to get outta here?” You practically beg him. He nods halfway through your question and you smile with relief.

“If you want to get your car I will handle the check.” He offers knowing its a busy night so valet could possibly take longer than expected.

“Meet you outside.” You stand up and kiss his cheek while you squeeze his shoulder. You know he watches you walk away so you add a little more sway into your steps. You turn to look over your shoulder. There he is sliding a hand over his open mouth and you hope he’s drooling.

As you reach the door to outside you rummage through your purse for the white ticket. The same young man in the stark white shirt smiles and mumbles something to you as he takes your ticket and disappears around the corner. You stand near the valet stand as you wait for him to pull your car around. A few minutes go by and still nothing.

“Y/n?” You hear someone say as a hand grabs onto your shoulder. You turn your head around unsure who it is by the voice.

Then you notice him right away. His dirty blonde hair and light green eyes smile back at you. The man stands close enough for you to notice the new stubble on his chin.

“Dylan, how are you?” You are surprised to see him here. You met Dylan when he came in as a partner with one of your clients last year. A couple hook ups and an awkward morning later you came to the conclusion you did not want to see him romantically anymore. He is a nice guy, he just isn’t Rafe.

“I’m fine. It’s great to see you, you look amazing as always.” He eyes your body dramatically. You’ve always kept up with your figure but being on the go with work and living off a cycle of coffee and red wine helped balance off weight.

“Thank you.” You weakly smile as he looks back at the restaurant door.

“Who are you here with?” You notice he’s waiting for a car and this isn’t the kind of place you visit alone.

“Yes, my um date is inside.” He says through closed teeth as he points a thumb over his shoulder to Beck’s.

“That’s good. Glad you’re having a nice night.” You try to cut the conversation as you stretch your neck to see if your car is almost here. What is taking them so long?

“Hey baby.” You hear Rafe as he walks up to you. You’re thankful we makes it out when he does because Dylan is starting to stare more then you welcome. Rafe places a hand on your lower back as you lean into his side perfectly fitting as you always should.

“Rafe, this is Dylan. He’s a client.” You curtly introduce the two men standing in silence.

“Nice to meet you.” Rafe firmly holds a hand out to Dylan. Dylan’s hesitation to shake your boyfriend’s hand does not go unnoticed by Rafe.

“Yeah, pleasure man.” Dylan puffs his chest out as he shakes Rafe’s hand.

Luckily your car comes quick to save the awkward moment between the three of you. The valet parks your car in front of you and runs over to hand you the keys. Rafe hands the man a tip and nods in a thank you, his hand never leaving its place on your back. A small blonde woman walks over to Dylan as you begin turning to Rafe to ask him if he is going to follow you back to your apartment in his car. You notice Dylan paying little attention to who you assume is his girlfriend.

“Good to see you Y/N, take care.” Dylan walks over to you and kisses your cheek. You freeze as you are taken aback by his actions. You did not expect him to touch you let alone be so advanced in his confidence with you. Last time you saw him was so long ago. You barley had any feelings towards him. Guilt begins to run down your spine as he pulls away.

You nod quickly as you turn back to your car.

“Will you follow me in your car back to my place?” You plead Rafe. He doesn’t look you in the eye as he opens your driver door for you. He nods lightly and you sigh knowing what he’s thinking. You are aware Rafe has your address so you get in your car as he strides to the parking garage across the street without a word.

The drive home gives you little time to settle your nerves. To Rafe, the way Dylan looked at you must seem like unresolved issues. You two never dated. How do you make Rafe understand your heart has always been with him?

You are walking through the lobby of your apartment building as too many scenarios of how the rest of your night will go play out in your head. Rafe probably won’t come over now. Your night is ruined and you haven’t even begun to talk with him.

You set your purse on the white granite of your kitchen island. You light a few candles to set the mood in hoping Rafe doesn’t bring an argument with him. Running into your room you remove your red dress and heels as you put on your floral lace lingerie. You had hoped Rafe would be the one removing your dress but this lingerie might encourage him more now that things are messy. The night is still going to go as you planned you tell yourself. Nice night with wine and wrinkled sheets, hopefully sore legs too.

You hear a knock at your door as you fix your breasts inside your bra. You grab your silk robe to leave little imagination to what is underneath. Releasing a loud sigh you walk over to unlock your front door as you tighten the the robe shut.

“Hi.” You neutrally greet Rafe as you open the door. He looks at you with wide eyes noticing your outfit change. You take a step back welcoming him inside. He walks passed you without a word.

“Rafe, can we please talk?” You plead as you shut and lock the front door. You feel him walk through the living room and to the balcony. He’s more upset than you thought. You follow close behind and he lights a cigarette before you step onto the concrete outside. He takes a long drag and leans onto the railing.

“I know I shouldn’t be mad Y/N. It was all a mystery to me if you have been with someone else. I was fine not knowing. But seeing you two interact like that made my stomach flip. I had to physically stop myself from wanting to wring his neck.” He laughs repulsively as he shakes his head at the thought of your body wrapped around Dylan’s. He brings the cigarette between his lips again not looking at you. His lips hold the cigarette in his mouth as he loosens the black tie from his neck needing more air. He brings the tie over his head and sets it on the wicker chair behind him. You take a step next to him and place your hand over his in an attempt for him to respond to you.

“Rafe, please. It was nothing. I don’t know why he would kiss my cheek. We never had anything serious.” You try to make him understand. A light breeze blows against your face and the cool air makes you realize how much you are sweating. The last thing you want to do is talk about a meaningless, not someone you want to remember, hook up.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” His voice stern as he looks at you to the side without turning to face you.

“Oh, You never had anyone after me? We were kids then, Rafe. Why is everything made into a big deal with you?” You raise your voice at him. He has no right to treat you like you did something wrong.

“Yeah, alright. This is what you wanna do?” He rhetorically asks. He drops his cigarette to his feet and steps on it putting it out. Long arms widened out at his side and he throws his head back in a laugh.

“There was a lot going on after you left. I tried to forget you Y/N. I did what I had to do too, but no one is you.” Rafe runs both palms through his hair as you watch him freak out. The night turned upside down so quick.

“I really don’t want to do this.” You put your head in your palms and try to hold back tears realizing your night is ruined.

Rafe walks over to you and grasps onto your wrists pulling your hands away from your face. Tears stream down your face and you keep your eye level on the iron railing. Rafe tilts your head up with two fingers meeting your eyes in a hopeful attempt to read your face.

“No one is you. It didn’t matter what I tried to do either. I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” His eyes frantically searching yours as he brushes a tear from your cheek. You close your eyes as his soft lips meet your face and slowly peck down your neck. With one of his rough hands stabilizing below your ear you tilt into his kiss. You flutter your eyes open and pull him in by his jacket.

“I hate that he’s touched you.” His words mumbled against your skin as you feel him pull the tie on your robe. One hand grabbing your waist as he walks you backwards. Cold concrete meets your back and his lips become aggressive against your skin. Rafe detaches himself from you and opens the silk exposing your body. Breathe heavy in your chest rising up and down wanting to know what he’s thinking. He leaves no imagination as he wets his lips with his tongue eyeing every inch of you in the thin lace material.

“Rafe I wan-.” Your attempt to converse is thrown to the side as Rafe wraps one hand tightly under your thigh bringing it to his hip. You wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls your other leg around his waist. You can feel how hard he is against your center. He presses himself against you wanting you to know how you make him feel.

“These are my lips.” Rafe says as he forgivingly kisses your parted lips. A low moan comes from you as repeats his earlier actions trailing his plump lips down your neck.

“Mine to touch.” He whispers his possessions as he palms your bra applying slight pressure over your nipple with his thumb.

“No ones but mine.” He shifts his jaw as he looks down at your heavy chest and looks to you through furrowed brows. You nod your head at him and he curls his lips into a sultry smile. As you stabilize yourself against the wall and hold yourself up with legs still attached around Rafe he removes his hand from your breast and positions it by your head on the wall. He forms two fingers to the fabric of your underwear gliding down the band near the top of your leg. He slowly slides the the fabric tightly met on your lower lips to the side. One finger swirls lightly on your clit as you arch your back in pleasure.

“Yeah?” Rafe watches you come undone at his slick movements rubbing your wet core. You continue nodding your head encouraging him but you can’t keep your eyes open no matter how much you love watching his fingers fuck you. His motions quicken as the coldness of his ring finds itself between your lips. He slides two fingers down then inside you. Pumping slowly and the quiet pace drives you insane.

“Rafe, I need you to go faster.” You demand through breaths. He ignores your request continuing his work on your lower half. You open your eyelids watching him drunk in love as his eyes watch your mouth part.

“I want you to tell me who makes you feel this way. No one else can make you wet like I do.” Rafe is right. His lips meet yours again and you’re hungry for a taste. His whole body stills including his fingers detaching from your sweet spot. Pedals of sweat are on his forehead as he grips your hips with each hand. A tight hold on your body as he waits for his answer.

You let out a light laugh watching his expression stiffen before you.

“You. No one else makes me feel this way.” You give in knowing you want him just as badly. Rafe’s kisses begin again but in more need.

His lips part allowing your tongue to slip in aggressive against his. He pulls your legs from his waist and gently brings your feet back to the concrete. Rafe’s long fingers wrap inside the elastic waistband on your lingerie pulling it from you and down each leg. You step out of them quickly and he kisses your clit sweetly on his way back up to you. He stands above you wetting his lips again. He shuts his eyes and your hands hurry with his belt. He helps you lower his zipper to expose him. You reach for his member removing his length from his now tight pants. Wrapping one hand around him you begin pumping him quickly as he pushes you back to your place on the wall. You lift your knee up to his hip but he’s still too tall to gain access comfortably inside you. You whimper at your attempt to match your bodies but you need his help again. Rafe let’s out a low laugh at your need for him. He knows he isn’t the only one who craves the need for the other.

As your bodies repeat the same position, only this time with less fabric between you, sloppy kisses are rushed against wet lips as fingers are entangled in a mess of brown hair. You continue your hand on his length and press the tip to your wet center. Rafe let’s out a loud moan at the sensation you know feels just as sweet to him. A hiss falls from his parted lips as his chest rises and falls. He brings his eyes to your naked hips and watches as he pushes himself into you slowly. His eyes drunkenly find yours and he pulls halfway out slamming inside you without breaking eye contact.

“Rafe.” You moan out his name as you feel his hips push you into the hard wall behind you. You fumble to remove his jacket in need to have his body closer. Rafe helps you push his suit off hearing the clothing hit the floor next to your underwear.

Rafe quickens his pace inside you as your fingers undo the clear buttons from their slot on his white shirt. You must be taking too long for his liking as he brings his hands to either side of the clothing and rips forcing the buttons to pop off. You let out a hot breath at finally being able to touch his bare chest. You tighten your legs around his hips as you feel his hands move to your bare ass. He stays inside you as he walks your conjoined bodies back inside your living room and through the single hallway to your bedroom.

Pushing the door open with his shoe he easily stalks over to your bed releasing you onto the mattress. He positions your body on the edge of the bed spreading your knees wider so he can watch himself glide in and out of you. His pace continues steady and you forget all about his jealous argument. You also forgot about his great stamina. You were so aroused to be with him last time you didn’t care to keep things slow.

You arch your back and feel his thumb circle on your clit. The bedroom fills with sounds of mixed pants and rough breaths as the pleasure overwhelms your entangled bodies. Rafe moves his hands to your hips and fucks you harder than he ever has. The pounding of him inside you makes your walls tighten.

“I love you.” Rafe breaths out not stopping his heavy hips.

Your legs begin to shake at the intense pace he’s going. He doesn’t plan on stopping until he’s done.

“I’m so close.” You warn the man before you.

“Yeah, me too.” He pants as his thrusts turn sloppy. His sweat covered face turns up and he pushes into you two hard times as he feels you tighten around him as you reach your orgasm. His climax pools inside you as he watches you come undone. His movements steady as he moves his palms from your knees and leans over you on the bed kissing your tender lips.

“God Rafe. I don’t know what that was but it was great.” You praise your boyfriend knowing he loves being appreciated.

Rafe pulls out of you and cups his hand over the top of his length as he cums more. He smiles as you watch him. His tan pecs move up and down as he catches his breath from his workout. Rafe disappears into your bathroom and you hear the water come on. He comes back moments later and he’s fully naked now. Rafe pushes the silk robe from your shoulders then helps you up from the mattress and finds the hook on your bra. He removes it with ease and guides you to the steam filled bathroom.

The hot water feels great against your chest and Rafe hugs you from behind massaging your breasts as he kisses your neck. You remove your body wash from the porcelain shelf of the bath and push on the cap.

“Let me.” Rafe mumbles in your ear as he takes the bottle from your hand. You watch as he squirts the pink liquid into his large palm. His hands lather against your tired skin and down between your legs. He’s gentle as he cleans you knowing he was rough with you minutes ago.

Once the shower is finished you both tuck yourself under the covers of your duvet. You settle into the curve of his bare body and lean the back of your head into his chest. You exchange small laughs as he runs fingertips along your side causing a tickle to spark over your skin.

“Goodnight baby.” Rafe kisses against your shoulder holding you tighter than before. With closed eyes you smile at him knowing he means it.

“I love you.” You remark. Rafe rests his cheek on the top of your head as your legs are intertwined under the blanket. Rafe’s chest falls into a steady pattern of breathing giving away that he’s asleep. You close your eyes knowing you’re right where you are meant to be.

#rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron #obx smut #obx rafe #obx #drew starkey fic #drew starkey #love #obx netflix #obx2 #outerbanks #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #obx kooks #rafe cameron x kook!reader

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yeojaa · 4 years

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( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud. Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t.

(or: Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

pairing. tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. slice of life fluff, light smut. explicit (but only at the end).

tags / warnings. mentions of heavily tattooed!JK, casual drinking, tender lovemakin’, JK with the bad jokes, honestly just him being funny and chill like that one guy you never get over...

wc. 7.6k.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif, @papillonsgf, and @yeoldontknow 💛 ty for always indulging me and most importantly, supporting me when i begin to spiral. 🤠

author note. i got this idea into my head one evening in the shower and now... it is this. it’s not your usual bad boy tattoooist!JK fic but i hope you enjoy regardless. as always, feedback means a lot!

You and forethought aren’t close friends. You really aren’t even distant cousins, or part of the same family tree. You consider it a stranger, wave loftily as it passes you by, squinting like you can’t properly make out what it is. Careful consideration? Thoughtful patience? None of that exists for you. At least, not when you really, really want something.

It’s what has you here now, bumbling your way into the tattoo shop like a newborn baby bird.

You wonder how it must look, whether the shop assistant is used to this. Random girl shows up on a Sunday afternoon looking like a fish out of water, eager yet afraid. By how she greets you - with a curious stare and not quite a smile - you’re sure she is.

“Do you take walk-ins?”

You’d meant to make an appointment. Had sat for hours on the shop’s Instagram page, combing through the residents’ portfolios, trying to decide who to reach out to. When you’d finally decided, you’d realised books were a thing and most of them were closed. (Just your luck.)

Still, it never hurt to try, right?

“Everyone’s fully booked.” The girl sounds bored, apathetic yet genial. (You don’t blame her.) By the way her stare swings over you, it feels like a dismissal. You’re ready to admit defeat - head half-bowed, words draped over your tongue. “But our apprentice might be able to squeeze you in.”

An apprentice? Well— that’s not exactly what you’d been hoping for, but this shop is reputable. Well-known. Considered one of the best in the city. Surely their apprentice would be fine. Just less seasoned, not as experienced.

You all but snap your neck nodding along, gratitude tumbling out in the form of awkward laughter. “That’d be great!”

The girl passes you off with a nod of her head, gesturing down the hall. “Last room on the left. His name’s Jungkook. His schedule says he’s all clear, but maybe knock before you go in.” It’s not the sunniest smile you’ve ever received, but the small thing she offers helps with the nerves. Stills them beneath your skin as you do as you’re told.

“Jungkook?” There’s not really anywhere to knock, every wall neatly frosted glass and no doors in sight. (You had passed a few folding screens but otherwise, it’s open concept, each room offering a glimpse into the artist who works inside.) It feels too disruptive to tap your knuckles on one glass pane, lest it interrupt someone else.

(His studio is minimally decorated but inviting: one big cabinet; two of those typical IKEA shelves in the 4x4 grid that every new homeowner and their mother have; and a shop table, upon which a black backpack sits. Various plants dress the room - both hanging from the ceiling and along the window - and Polaroids string over walls, held aloft by twine. A Roomba sits by itself in a corner and the tattoo bed dominates most of the space, positioned closer to the dividing wall; one teeny tiny rolling chair sits beside it. There’s a bench on your left, with a pair of Birkenstocks tucked beneath. All in all, very homey. Reminiscent of your own apartment.)

Hidden behind the bed, crouched low to the ground beside the cabinet, is a head of dark hair that speaks, drawing your attention from studying the cozy space. “Oh?”

You’re not expecting the face that turns to you, all big doe eyes and the sweetest dimples.

For a moment, you forget what you’re here for. Why you’re standing in the empty door frame, staring down at the guy like you’ve spent your entire life secluded and have no idea how to speak.

The longer you’re quiet, the more his concern seems to grow, single brow disappearing into his inky fringe. It hangs in his vision at certain angles, shields the brightness of his stare with each turn of his chin. “Are you okay?” He’s even risen - stopped what he was doing - so he can see you more clearly, without any obstruction in the way. Good for him, but worse for you.

He’s so cute. Were you prepared to look like an uncertain idiot in front of this… angel?

“Y-yeah.” You manage after what feels like forever, sweeping your nerves under the rug that sits on the floor, separates the sole of his sneakers from hard concrete. “Um— I was told you might have some time? For, uh, a walk-in?”

(Why’re you stuttering? You’re never shy. Or rather, you’re not this nervous mess. People have always called you an extrovert, outgoing as hell, a social butterfly.)

(You aren’t those things but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.)

“Oh!” Realisation dawns across his features, throws his kind smile into greater relief, and you have to actively tell yourself not to stare, tearing your gaze away to focus on the wall of stencils past his shoulder. He moves into motion then, stepping around the bed to meet you still rooted in the doorway. “Yeah, I’ve got time. Come in.” Up close like this - there’s only maybe two feet between you - you can make out the little scar on his cheek; the tiny beauty mark below his bottom lip; each individual lash that frames his Bambi eyes and flutters when he blinks. “I probably can’t draw you anything new right now but I’ve got some flash, if you’re interested?”

Even if you weren’t interested, you don’t think you’d say no. You were always a sucker for a cute boy and this Jungkook? He was that. In spades.

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” He’s retreating back into the room, moving to grab his iPad off the far table. It’s balanced on his arm when he swivels to you, prominent front teeth on full display. “I’ve got a pretty big selection.”

When he drops onto the bench - a wayward vine above his head tickling his cheek - he gestures to the spot beside him. This time, you don’t stare for a stupid amount of time, instead taking up the seat without hesitation.

“So—” He’s swiping through the photo library with his Apple Pen. You’re sure there are pretty sketches on the screen - you just can’t focus on them, too preoccupied by the artwork that crawls across his hand and into the sleeve of his oversized, well-worn shirt. It’s an intricate chrysanthemum, impossibly well-shaded with bold colours that demand attention and stand out over his fair complexion; it creeps halfway up the back of his hand to tickle over his knuckles. He notes your attention with a quiet chuckle, fingers wiggling. The ink moves, flows, ripples with the motion, before his hand relaxes, knuckles unravelling as he offers the limb to you and your curiosity. “Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible.” It really is. You’ve never seen anything like it, as if a painting has been done across his skin, laid in watercolour rather than tattoo ink. “Did it hurt?”

(You almost want to hit yourself for the stupid question. Of course it did. It’s a hand tattoo.)

Jungkook only laughs again, doesn’t hold it against you despite the verbal barrage you’re faced with internally. “Like crazy, but it was worth it. This was my first tattoo and all the rest have just sort of been—” He shrugs, fabric of his shirt bunching around his collar.

“A piece of cake?” You can only imagine.

“Exactly.”

You nod thoughtfully, as if that means anything to you. (It doesn’t. You’re bare as a baby’s bottom, blemish free save for the occasional hellish pimple and the scar you have from surgery on your hand when you broke parts of it in sixth grade.)

If he can tell you’re talking out of your ass, he says nothing, redirecting your attention back to the iPad propped on his lap. “Do any of these interest you?” He’s resumed scrolling, swiping carefully through pages of flash. There are assorted floral pieces (plum stems, lily stalks, fully bloomed mums) and various skeletons (what looks like a deer, a dragon, a wolf). They’re mostly blackwork with fine lines and heavy contrast, so wonderfully detailed you spend too much time studying one piece before he’s flipping to the next.

“That one.” It catches your eye more than the others have. Likely because it’s one of the few pieces in colour, soft hues spilling over neat lines. A pretty little cat with a braided collar, big golden bell centered beneath its head, unravelling petals sweeping around it.

“You like cats?”

You do. “She looks like mine.”

“It’s settled.” He beams then, rising so quickly you’re startled; you watch as he moves around the space with decisive steps, putting your plan into motion. A paper is pulled seemingly out of nowhere, laid on a wooden clipboard and offered with a blue ballpoint pen. “If you can fill all of this out, I can get the stencil ready.”

Well, that was easy. Somehow, you’d thought it’d be more complicated, a ton of back and forth and yes and no. You can’t deny you’re nervous, staring down at the consent form.

(It doesn’t mean you read it any more than you normally would, though. You gloss over all the points, making note of what you’re agreeing to without really considering any of it. You’ve wanted a tattoo for most of your life. There’s really no going back now.)

(You just hope it turns out like you want - that you’re not just being blindsided by a sudden superficial crush and a lack of critical thought.)

“I think I’m done,” you mumble, slashing the date into the paper with gusto.

“Do you have your ID?” You’ve got it ready for him when he returns to take both it and the form. “I’m just going to make copies and then we can discuss more.”

He’s gone with that same smile, disappearing back the way you’d come.

Alone, the nerves set in. You’re actually doing this. Getting a tattoo. Putting something permanent on your body. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, shaking your hands in your lap. Maybe you should’ve eaten more before you’d come. (You’d woken up late - had only shoved two pieces of raisin pinwheel bread into your mouth before you’d made up your mind about this.)

(But had you really made up your mind? Was this going to be it? It feels mostly like yes, though the repetitive thud of your toe against concrete seems to indicate otherwise. It’s as if you’re tapping out something in morse, telling yourself—)

“Okay!” Jungkook’s back before you know it, driver’s license returned to you along with an unsealed envelope. You eye it curiously. “A copy of your form and an aftercare sheet.”

He’s really thought of everything. Or the shop has. Either way, you appreciate that when you’re not so sure, caught somewhere between giddily excited and vaguely worried, as if someone’s pulled a weight off your shoulders, taken on some of the burden of this spontaneous choice.

“So, where do you want it?” It’s like he has a one track mind, utterly focused on the task at hand. (Probably a good thing, given you’re about to voluntarily let him needle your poor skin.)

You hadn’t thought about that. You’d always liked the idea of a back of the arm tattoo, positioned somewhere along your tricep so it could be seen while turned away. “My arm?”

“Upper? Forearm?” There’s not an ounce of annoyance or exasperation or anything else negative. He’s just genuinely curious, peering over his shoulder at you.

“Tricep area, I think? Would that look good?”

“If you like it, it will.” Then he grins - beams so bright you half expect the sun to come zooming out of his mouth - and laughs, a funny little cackle that makes you do the same. “I’m kidding. That was cheesy. But I’m sure it’ll look fine. We can try laying it down first, so you get an idea?”

“That sounds good.” A lot better than endless years of regret for poor placement.

“You’ll, uh— need to take your shirt off though.”

It’s then you realise your mistake: wearing a turtleneck. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, then another, and he smiles so kindly you wonder what your expression must look like. Sour, like you’d sucked fresh lemon? Awkward, as if you’d never worn anything less than double layers before (a proud Never Nude)?

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule. Or I can put a divider up so you don’t have to worry about being seen from outside. Whatever you’d prefer.”

The longer you stay quiet - a seemingly common occurrence today - the closer his brows furrow, preparations coming to a standstill. You can tell he’s not trying to rush you, politely waiting for an answer with transfer paper in one hand and scissors in the other.

(If only he could peek into your brain, see the whole reason you’re hesitating is because you can’t quite remember which bra you’re wearing, whether it’s the slinky black one that offers absolutely zero support or the lacy blue one with the cute detailing and practically see-through cups.)

(Did it really matter either way? He was probably desensitized.)

“It’s fine.” You find the confidence somehow, nodding firmly. Jungkook’s still studying you carefully, though. Waiting as you strip your purse off your shoulder and reach for the hem of your sweater. It feels funny in your fingers, more like steel wool than sheep’s.

One breath. Two.

You fold your turtleneck neatly, laying it beside your bag and turning back to face him. “All right. Let’s do this.”

“So, which arm?” He’s close now - crossed to you in two strides of his long legs - and holds up the stencil.

Your right rises, fingers wiggling as if to say hello.

He lays the design down, pats it into place with deft fingers. You don’t realise the breath you’re holding until he pulls the sticky paper away, leaving neat line work in its wake.

“Oh.” It slips out of its own accord, almost a whisper as you stare at the design in the mirror. “It’s so pretty.”

There’s pride in his eyes as he stares with you, bounces his gaze between it and your face. “Thanks.” He lets you linger, peering thoughtfully at your reflection before speaking, casually hopeful. “What do you think?”

“This is it. Right here.”

Maybe he’d fist pump, if he were any less cool. As it stands, he simply nods, cheeks round like fresh baked bread, nose scrunched with glee.

“All right. We’ll shave you down and get started. You like the colours, right?” Once again, he’s buzzing around the room, gathering up all his materials and snapping black gloves on once everything is laid out upon his cart. It’s heavily stickered, covered in video game vinyls and anime mattes. (You recognise a handful of them, make a note to ask him where he got them from.) He pats the tissue papered bed top when you make no movement toward him. “Hop on up. Face down, if that’s okay.”

You do as he says, climbing atop with minimal grace. It takes you a bit of adjusting to get comfortable, folding your left arm under your head and allowing your right to simply dangle, uncertain of where it should be.

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?” You’d misheard that, right?

“Your skin. You’re sparkling.” He sounds a little in awe, surprised as wetness spills across your arm, the edge of a razor following closely thereafter.

“Oh.” Heat creeps over your cheeks, slinks all the way up into your roots and has you chuckling awkwardly. “It’s my soap.”

“Sparkle soap?” Whether he’s just making conversation or genuinely curious, you’re not sure. He does seem delighted by the fact, though, as if he’s never seen a girl covered in glitter before. (Which, fair.)

“It’s this specialty holiday soap. It has pigment in it.”

“That’s cool.” He’s laying the stencil down again, smoothing it over your now-hairless arm. “It smells nice.”

Obviously, you agree. It’s honey and citrus, brightly fragrant but not overpowering, lingering on your clothes like the subtle golden glitter does. Still, you flush, heat crossing from a casual day under the sun to burning-on-the-stove hot. “Thanks.”

“Was that weird? I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.”

He hums a tiny noise, something that sounds like understanding and appreciation all at once.

Then the buzzing starts - a steady, inescapable brrrrrrrrr - and he’s gripping your arm, steady yet gentle. “Ready?”

Honestly, you’re not sure. Hearing the noise makes it seem scary, has your entire body tensing up like Pavlov’s dog. Your honesty can’t be helped, a nervous giggle chased off your tongue. “I think so.”

“I think so too.”

By the time you’re done - a good almost five hours later, your arm stinging so bad you wonder why you’d ever sat down in the first place - you’d fallen asleep twice, started drooling on your other arm once, and really, really have to pee.

“All right—”“ The incessant buzzing stops. Liquid spills where the pain centres, followed by rougher paper towel. “You are finished.”

(You might be imagining it, but he sounds about as relieved as you. Maybe because you’d been sitting for hours on hours, turning down his offer for a break because you just wanted to get it done and therefore forcing him to do the same.)

“Can I see?” You don’t want to leap to your feet - feel a bit too lightheaded for that - but you’re bouncing with excitement, the thrumming in your arm intensified when you shift to catch a better look at Jungkook’s face.

“Yeah, go ahead. Just be careful - you might be a bit—”

He’s right. You nearly topple over the moment you stand, none-too-gently rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing safely on your feet. It’s only his close proximity that prevents you from falling to your knees, one degloved hand darting out to steady you.

“Careful!” It’s politely reproachful, coloured soft with worry.

“Sorry, sorry.” You seize the edge of the bed, gripping tight as you wait for everything to settle, the lightheadedness to recede. Everything straightens out quickly enough. “Got up too quickly.”

“Do you need a snack?” He’s already up, moving faster than you, rummaging through the cabinet against the far wall. “I’ve got seaweed and Choco Boys and shrimp chips and—”

You can’t help but laugh, hobbling to the mirror to inspect your new piece of art. “I’m fine.” That, and you’re too occupied with the ink that now sits embedded beneath your skin, a flurry of lovely colour and impressive line work.

“Choco Boys it is then.” The familiar yellow package is thrust toward you, a pack of his own already ripped open. Mushroom-shaped treats are tossed into his open mouth, lips curling around chocolate and his next words, “it’ll help with your sugar levels.”

A thank you comes, fingers curling around the snacks, but you’re still in deep, so focused on the lovely hue that bleeds over your skin, marks up previously unblemished flesh and holds your attention. It’s better than you could’ve possibly imagined, a piece of artwork forever yours. It makes you giddy as you stare at it - almost reach for it, but stop when you catch the alarmed widening of Jungkook’s eyes.

“You like?”

“I love.” You’d stare at it for hours, if you could. Likely will, once you get home, sitting in front of the mirror like a zombie. “Thank you so, so much.”

The brunet beams as he polishes off the last of his Choco Boys, tossing his dark hair back with a flick of his head. Triumph rolls off him in palpable waves, sitting pretty in the lines by his eyes, the scrunching around his nose. Seeing how it blooms in his stare is like a straight endorphin shot, as if you’ve done more than just be the canvas he’s laid all his hard work into. “It was a pleasure.”

It’s a whole month later - enough time for the piece to heal - before you decide you want another one. It’s not as spontaneous as the first time, instead led with an Instagram direct message to @jeonink. (You half expect him not to answer; you’re utterly delighted when he responds not five minutes later.)

Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s luck that has him with availability the same day you reach out, bringing you back to the studio three hours after you’ve messaged him.

He’s just as cute as before, black baseball cap pulled low over his ears, silver-lined ears twinkling beneath the shop lights.

“So, what’re you thinking?”

Truthfully, you hadn’t done much thinking. Just like before, you’d decided you wanted a tattoo and, well, the rest had been history. You figured you’d let him have free reign, given how happy you were with your first piece. “A sleeve?”

That surprises him. His whole face lights up, eyes wide, mouth rounding curiously. “Like, a full sleeve?” It’s not necessarily a no - more of an are you sure? he hides between the syllables.

“I think so.”

He nods slowly, knowingly, arms folded over his chest, expression suddenly unreadable. “You caught the itch.”

Your own features twist, brows shooting high. “The what?”

“The tattoo itch,” he clarifies with a laugh, the sound sweeping your concern away like the sea. “People say once you get one, you get addicted to the feeling.” He’s extending both arms to you now, hands palm up. For a moment, you’re note sure what he’s doing. (In actuality, you’re distracted by the fact that he’s in a tee, muscle cording his limbs, undulating as he turns his arms over.) “I got bit by it when I lived in Japan. It’s actually what got me into tattooing myself.”

You remember what he’d said last time - how he’d spent a handful of years overseas, working in restaurants after having followed his last partner there. He’d shared lots about his life, giving you the Sparknotes version while you’d ground enamel to fine dust.

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”

Your dream comes to life in four excruciating sessions. It’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever endured (you’re never going to get an elbow tattoo ever again) but you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, utterly in love with the mural that now lives on your skin. A peony caps your shoulder while one runs halfway up your bicep. Another takes up the entirety of your forearm. There’s a darling little bird and delicately inked koi. It’s breathtaking, greater than anything you could have dreamt up.

You’ve been staring at it for at least three minutes now, tracing over the freshly laid colour with a tender touch. You’re grateful for the SecondSkin, the clear bandage that wraps everything up and keeps it safe from your over eager hands.

“You did it.” Jungkook’s grinning at you, feet kicked up where he sits, his usual bag of Choco Boys balanced in his lap. “Big girl.”

From anyone else, it might sound condescending - might rub you the wrong way and have you glaring daggers. Instead, you take it in stride, beaming at him from your seat. He’s been there with you every step of the way, been there for every hour (seventeen over three months, to be exact) you’ve dedicated to finishing this beauty up. Tease you as he might, you know he really is proud of you.

“You mean we did it,” you return, giddy like a child.

“Ah, right.” The chocolate-covered snack he’s devouring goes crunch crunch crunch before he speaks, mouth still full, eyes crinkled. “I guess I did do all the work.”

“Hey! Screw you!” You’re glowering at him, middle finger raised in defiance.

(How curious that your relationship has grown like this, turned from tattoo artist and client to what feels like more. It probably makes sense, given the long hours you’ve spent together, the support he’s had to offer each time the pain has gotten this side of too much, chattering your teeth and dizzying your head. Solidarity in pain and all that.)

(You really had tapped out once, when he’d crept his gun into the ditch of your elbow. You’d asked him whether it’d hurt beforehand and he’d only laughed, shrugged off the question and continued with the careful shading to your inner arm. That in itself had hurt like a biiitch; you hadn’t thought it could get worse.)

(You’d been mistaken.)

“Am I wrong?” He drawls, full of laughter and that big dumb smile of his you’ve grown accustomed to. It eats up his cheeks and disappears his eyes, makes it hard to be mad at him when he looks so sweet.

“Yes, you are.” You’ve got absolutely nothing to back it up, but who cares. This is the sort of banter the two of you have developed, like two old friends forced to spend too much time together. (Not that you’d complain. You’ve loved hearing his stories, all the tales he regales you with whenever you’re in his chair.)

A snort is his answer, the full roll of his eyes over-exaggerated and playful. “You’re lucky we’re all finished or I’d sneak in an ugly fish somewhere on your arm.”

You think he’s kidding - know he takes too much pride in his work to do that.

Still, you stick your tongue out, hopping down from the bed with your freshly inked arm, hands clapping together in celebration. “You wouldn’t dare.” You’re confident, crossing to the bench to tug your flannel on, careful of the dull pain that throbs beneath the thin medical dressing.

“Wouldn’t I? I’m leaving anyway.”

You’re ready to call him out for it, insist he would never ruin the sanctity of his profession in such a way, when you realise the words he’s spoken, the casual tidbit he’s just dropped like it’s nothing.

“Leaving?”

(Is it you or do you sound disappointed? You can’t dwell on it for long, worried you’ll miss his explanation. Had he mentioned it previously? Slipped it in when you’d been delirious from pain? No, you would’ve remembered that. You swear you would’ve.)

“I’m moving to Tokyo.” How he’s so casual, you have absolutely no idea. You suppose it’s not a big deal for him - he’s not from here anyway. Home is back in Korea, the place he’d spent most of his life before moving to Japan and then here, just two years ago. (God, your memory is good. If only you’d retained knowledge like this when you were in school.) “My flight’s next weekend.”

Your face must be hilarious because Jungkook’s laughing, cackling like the evil villain in an anime.

“Gonna miss me?”

Would it be inappropriate to say yes? Because you will, you realise the moment he’s posed the question. You’ve grown to consider him a friend, someone who you send random memes to on Instagram (usually pertaining to #tattooartistproblems or one of your shared hobbies, like video games and finding the best noodle soup restaurant in the city).

You go for the safe bet, answering with a question of your own. “Are you gonna miss me?”

“I’ll miss your restaurant recs,” he answers, offering honesty to your reticence. “You can still send me funny photos though.”

You can’t help your laugh, the tiny quirk of your mouth into a smile. “I guess you’re right. Will you still be tattooing?” It’s an innocent enough question - you really do want to know. You can’t imagine going to anyone else, even if it means you’ll be shelling out an absurd amount of money for a plane ticket.

“Yep, new shop.” Something twinkles in his stare, has him giddy as he rises to his feet, tossing his empty packet of snacks into the trash bin. “Actually, where I got most of mine done.” You understand it then - that it’s a move of faith. He’s finally come full circle. You’re unbelievably happy for him, brimming with delight to mirror his pride.

But you’re still going to give him a little bit of a hard time because you have to. It wouldn’t feel right otherwise. “Whoa, big shot.”

“I am actually,” he sniffs, raking an ink-strewn hand through his hair. It’s longer now than it was when you met him, curling over the tops of his ears, hanging in his eyes at every turn. “You’ll be lucky if I remember you when I’m famous.”

“Famously lame, maybe,” you tease, slipping your bag over your shoulder. You busy yourself pulling your keys from the interior pocket, checking your phone as if you’re ready to go. It’s only when you’re standing in the hallway - you have no real intention of departing like this and he knows that, considering you haven’t paid yet - when you level him with a half-formed smirk. “But I guess I should take you for a drink?”

His hoodie is on before you know it, yanked over his head and tugged into place as he joins you. It’s become your regular routine - leaving together after your sessions, a perk of always booking the last slot he has available. (Not that you relied on that, but simply because your work schedule didn’t really allow for anything else.) “Obviously.”

Jeon Jungkook is a talented artist, a dedicated snacker, a lover of the colour black. You discover, sitting on the patio of the nearby bar, that he’s also really, really good at holding his liquor.

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

“Do you think you’ll get anything else done?” He’s on his sixth pint, casually leaned back in his chair as he picks at the fries you’d ordered but that he seems perfectly happy to help himself to. (Payback for all the times he’s forced snacks on you maybe?) “Like, a face tattoo?”

You scoff at the question as if greatly offended. “You think I’d get a face tattoo?”

While a little glazed in the eyes, you can tell he’s altogether coherent, grinning across the table at you. “Hey, I don’t judge. You like making surprise decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, so he’s got you there. Used your own impulsive history against you. “I would never.”

“If you change your mind, do I get first dibs?”

“Dibs on what? Tattooing me?”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Duh.”

You can only roll your eyes, tossing a wayward burnt fry end at him. “Yes, Kook, you get first dibs on ruining my face.”

His expression twists, mouth shaping around words he’s keeping caged behind his teeth. There’s something he isn’t saying, a comeback he’s chosen to lock up. You wonder what it is.

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”

“Really?” You’re leaning forward, a clear challenge written across your face. “Then why don’t you have one?” He has a million others as it is: a hand, nearly the entirety of both arms, his chest, his shoulders, one of his legs. (You haven’t seen them all in person but you have seen them online, memorialised on his Instagram feed.)

“And hide all this?” One inked hand is gesturing toward his own face, gesticulating wildly as if that’ll drive his point further home. “I would never.”

“That’s what I said!”

It doesn’t matter to him, not when he’s fully sober and most certainly not now, when he’s slightly buzzed, eyes glossier than usual. “But I’m cuter. It’d be a shame if it were me. You…” The way he trails off is suggestive, indicative of something mocking and mean. (Except it’s never cruel - far too friendly and soft to ever hurt your feelings.) “—not so much.”

Another fry hits him right between the eyes and then another disappears into the hood of his sweater, lost to the black fabric that bunches up around his neck and hides the flush he’s been battling since you two got to the bar an hour ago.

“Don’t be rude!”

He beams at you then, so unnecessarily endearing you can only throw one more piece at him.

“I’m kidding.” You knew that already but pretend to ignore the pseudo-apology, choosing instead to polish off the last of your now-cold fries. A bad choice, you realise when he continues, surprising you with the words that come out of his liquor-laden mouth so much so that you almost choke. “You’re actually pretty cute.”

(So what if you’ve sort of maybe been waiting to hear them? Wondering if the tiny crush you’d developed was in some way reciprocated?)

(Not that this meant it was. Only that you perhaps weren’t alone in thinking he was the most lovable - and somehow simultaneously hot - person you’d ever met. It’s almost rewarding to know the long hours together hadn’t left him unscathed.)

“You all good?” The look on his face is worse than that smile he usually offers, instead a devilish smirk that makes him look like Satan himself.

Were you? You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really? You can’t?” You’re not sure what that means, whether you’re simply reading too far into it. But then he’s dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, head cocked curiously. It’s a bait, you realise—and one you’ll gladly take.

“Should I have expected it?”

Shoulders hike, rising up around his ears. “I thought I made it sort of obvious.”

Had he? Thinking back on it, you can’t really recall. Of course, he’d always been friendly, indulging you in your pursuit of body art, sketching up the loveliest things you’d never even think to dream of; accepting your distracting Instagram messages without complaint, always tossing you a like or some sort of acknowledgement no matter what you’d send (and you’d send some random, random stuff). Chatting with him daily had just become the norm, conversation flowing freely whenever you’d pop in for your next session.

But that was just because he was a nice guy - or so you’d thought. You realise now how wrong you’d been, too occupied with your own crush to notice his (if it could be called that).

“You like me,” you hum, surprisingly nonchalant despite the little pitter patter in your chest, the flutter of your heart within your ribcage.

“I think you’re cute,” he retorts, though there’s no real weight to his rebuff. The two statements are really one and the same and you’re giddy with the knowledge, absolutely tickled pink.

Except for the fact that he’s leaving, fully prepared to start a new life in another city in just one week. The irony isn’t lost on you, like fate’s laughing even as she offers you this little crumb. (You feel like Oliver Twist, frankly.)

“Same difference.”

He huffs - you’re reminded of how adorable he is when he does that - and downs the lukewarm remainder of his beer. “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.” Where the confidence comes from, who knows. You grip it tight with both hands though, hold it snugly as you level him with a stare that has his own unwavering. It’s almost as if you’re caught in a staring match, a battle of unspoken wits.

It drags on longer than it should, just the two of you locked to each other with nowhere to go.

Then he does the last thing you expect: shoves his chair aside and leans across the table, stealing a kiss and returning to his seat, all in the span of time it takes you to blink.

(His lips are so soft. A little chapped, a tiny bit dry, but soft - deceptively delicate. Bitter, touched with sea salt and something else distinctly him. French fries and beer and his Chapstick.)

(For the briefest moment, you wonder whether you’d just imagined it - if your imagination had truly gotten the best of you and you’ve absolutely lost your mind.)

“You just kissed me.” It seems like you’ve found your new favourite hobby of just repeating things, giving live play-by-plays like an awkward narrator in a romcom.

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re leaving.” Speaking the words into existence feels bad; you see the way his eyes tighten, the subtle sobering of his expression even while he tries to keep his cool.

“I am.” At least he’s realistic. It saves you from any uncertainty, keeping the what-ifs at bay.

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose.

“Do it again.”

And Jungkook does - over and over, sinking the taste of him almost as deeply as ink, offering a piece of himself you want to keep for just as long.

It takes you longer to add to your collection of art, nearly four whole years before you decide what you want next.�� (It’s a back piece this time - a full body suit from your shoulders down past your ass. Another cat, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing and surrounded by flowers. An ode to your first tattoo, to the one that had started it all.)

(You’re not sure you’re ready for the pain, though.)

“Lay down,” the artist instructs, back turned to you, busy preparing his materials. You’d stripped down while he was occupied, discarded all your clothes to the allocated basket and stood quietly in anticipation.

You do as he says, dropping atop the tattoo bed with a quiet oof. The stencil has already been laid, the entire outline ready to be inked into your skin. You can’t deny you’re more than a little nervous. It’s been years since you’d last gotten anything done, uninterested in finding a new artist since Jungkook had left.

(Which he had, exactly as he’d intended, gone on a 6 AM flight that you’d driven him to, teary-eyed and embarrassed. He’d laughed at you standing outside of the departure gate, his suitcase at his side, arms wrapped around your shoulders. You’d refused to show your face, burying it instead into the warmth of his neck, into the familiar scent of him that was going away for who knows how long.

“Stop being a baby,” he’d said, smothering you in kisses, the full weight of his laughter palpable through your close proximity. It'd rumbled out of his chest all the way into yours, finding a home behind your ribcage, right alongside where your heart fluttered, shaded blue and sad.

“Stop being mean,” you’d countered, petulant like a child.

It couldn’t be helped. You’d had only one week with him - one glorious, chaotic week filled with eating too much junk, rewatching your favourite animes, and generally making up for all the lost time you’d never even known there was. As amazing as it’d been, it still hadn’t prepared you for the goodbye.

That was your fault, though. You’d wrongly entertained the idea that maybe things would work out, that he’d change his mind or ask to take it - whatever you had, that is - with him, keep it going somehow. He hadn’t.)

“Do you have a preference where I start?” You’re unbothered, hair loosely knotted over your shoulder. Ready for the session to start - ready to feel the familiar sting again. (You’re proud of that. It might have taken you years and years but here you were, tackling something huge.)

“Nope.”

“Sounds good.”

The buzzing begins and pressure lands upon the small of your back, a gloved hand laid over the centre of your spine. You remind yourself to breathe in, out, focus on something other than the pain that fizzles over your skin and then ebbs into tenderness. Where he’s started - just above the fattiest part of your butt - isn’t too bad. Tolerable and yielding.

You can do this.

Your back aches in a different way than you’d anticipated, soreness buzzing beneath inflamed skin and making it uncomfortable to move around. It’s not any worse than your arm had been - the lines along your spine had felt comparable to that of your elbow - but it’s fresh, not dulled by years like your sleeve now was.

The artist is stripping his gloves off, your back neatly covered and the bed stripped of its original tissue paper. He’s leaned against the sink, onigiri held in his now-free hands, nibbling at the edge of the rice ball as you turn this way and that in the mirror. “You did good.”

You’re still undressed, admiring the linework from different angles, shimmying closer to your reflection to catch the lighter inking that makes up the undefined edges of the various florals. Something tells you that you should be shy - eager to redress after spending nearly five hours naked in the secluded studio - but you don’t care. Your back is quickly becoming a masterpiece, something that might as well be hung in the halls of the Louvre. You’re in love with it.

“Thanks.”

You mean thank you for his compliment but also for all his hard work, the long hours he’s put into bringing this beauty to life. It means so much - like progressing to the next level.

Which, you suppose it is. This is a fresh start for you. A new beginning in a new city.

“Proud of you,” he hums, suddenly close, broad palms searing heat over your hips. He’s careful to avoid the edge of the bandage that wraps your back and holds you delicately, like fine china or the most precious jewel in the world, lips sweet against your temple.

You meet his eyes in the mirror - the same sweet doe-eyed stare from five years ago. A little darker now, aged by the hand of time but endlessly kind, shining beneath the overhead lights.

“Proud of you,” you chirp, identical smiles spreading over your faces.

Jungkook’s having none of it though, bratty as usual. “Proud of us.”

You suppose you can settle for that. You really are proud of the two of you - for how far you’ve made it and all the obstacles you’ve overcome. From the first few weeks of sadness, all the melancholy that’d set in when he’d left, to exactly one month after, when he’d called you in the middle of the night, drunk and stumbling home.

(It’d been infuriating at the time - incoherent and foolish as he was - but it’d bloomed something between you, something neither of you could ignore.)

Four years of miserable long distance had become this: a love that's brought you back to his side, to a city you’re unfamiliar with but that he calls home; to a city that never sleeps, loud with pachinko machines and some of the best food you’ve ever had; to the place you’ve been missing every minute you were apart.

You’d never thought you would move for someone, uproot your entire life for a relationship, but he’d changed that. Made it worth it in ways you had never considered. Convinced you more and more with each trip you’d taken, two visits twice a year, for a measly two weeks at a time.

“Should we head home?” He means your physical home - the apartment the two of you had decided on in Roppongi, the one you haven’t seen yet, that he’s had to move into all by himself. It’s not quite as nice as the home in his arms.

You say yes anyway.

“I’m so talented.” The words come entirely too whole for your liking, loud somewhere above your head.

“Are you serious?” You’re levelling your boyfriend with the most incredulous look, whole face scrunched up, hands fisted into his dark sheets. It’s uncomfortable at this angle - kinking your neck as you look over your shoulder - but you really can’t believe he’s just said that. He’s knelt between your legs, knees spread wide around his own, his hand halfway up your back and tracking heat over your spine.

Somehow, he has the audacity to look surprised. “What?”

“You’re really patting yourself on the back right now?” Now, when he should be pounding you into oblivion, working that big fat cock of his through your fluttering walls, making you moan his name into his pillows like it’s his only job?

(It truthfully could be. You’d rank his skills in the bedroom on par with his skills in the studio.)

“Oh.” All at once, he’s the devil - sin personified. Or would be, if he didn’t somehow still look infuriatingly cute.

The gentle touch turns bruising, heel of his palm pressed hard into the tender notches of your spine. “You don’t like when I admire my own work?” Asked as he shifts behind you, length dragging out of your dripping cunt to gently tap against your aching clit. The head of it glides through your folds, mercilessly teasing but never slipping back in, never filling you whole like you need. (Because you really do need it. You haven’t seen him in six months, left to your own devices - literally.) It feels like heaven and hell, too good and not nearly enough all at once.

“Kook,” you snap. Try to, anyway, his name far too whiny and breathless to hold any real weight.

“I’m just admiring you, sweetheart.” He’s dragging the hand over your back, tracing all the lines he’s embedded into your skin. They make up his favourite piece, inked permanently into his favourite canvas. A testament to his hard work, his dedication, his love.

Any other time, you might not care. Here and now, after not having felt his touch in what feels like forever, you’re burning from the inside out, a million volts of electricity tripping your circuits. When you speak, it’s more a plea than a reprimand, uttered so sweetly you know he can’t deny you. “Admire me later.”

“I’ve missed you” is his only answer, punctuated by a fluid roll of his hips, the heavy press of his cock back into your dripping cunt. “I’ve missed this,” he breathes out, sinking all the way in, so slow you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.

“Missed you too,” you parrot back, a little delirious now that you’ve gotten what you want.

Now that he’s right where he should be - with you.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @xjoonchildx

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hansolmates · 4 years

Text

one more time (m)

pairing; (former) popular!jk x (former) normie!reader summary; it’s been two years since you’ve seen your former tryst jeon jungkook. you didn’t expect him to be applying for the internship you’re currently running, along with the rate your heart is running at the sight of him in a black suit. genre/warnings; self-deprecating language, your typical (future) co-workers!au, jungkook is a piner and so is oc, a lil bit of sneaking around, adulting, a mutual understanding of feelings (finally!!) smut in the form of—soft n’ dirty baybee, unprotected, cockwarming, overstimulation, minor praise and possession kink, cumplay, &you know that they gon have heart eyes the entire time w.c; 7.3k a/n; darn why am i so... emotional over this??? it started out as a meaningless drabble series but with all my lovely readers and moots it’s grown into such a fun, introspective series. thank u for loving this and joining me on this journey. for those of u who are new to this series feel free to read popular-ish first or as a standalone! [popular-ish masterlist]

if you’ve enjoyed this (whether as a standalone or as a series) please consider giving it a like and a share✨✨✨✨✨

“A mess, I’m a mess,” you sing-song to yourself, organizing the manuals on the clear glass by subject and size. The applications of all your new interns are alphabetized, not a form out of place. Everything’s perfect. “Alright Jessica, all twenty of the interns are accounted for.”

“Actually, there’s twenty-three,” Jessica quips, and you let your shoulders slump. Being part of the recruiting team of your company has been simultaneously exciting and stressful. Stressful because of the constant travel, but otherwise exciting because you loved your internship at your current company. You remember how nervous you were two years ago, and how much support and help you got from your recruiters. Applying to this team was a natural turn of events.

“A-are you sure, Jess?” you look through all the applications, count the amount of nametags, triple check the chairs. You’re sweating through your blazer, wondering where you went wrong.

The head of your recruiting team glues one hand to her hip, while the other hand is holding her iPad, scrolling with her thumb. You swallow, intimidated by Jessica’s golden wavy locks and her black-trimmed white Chanel pantsuit.

“Yep, but don’t be too hard on yourself. I just added three more recruits last night. I’ll get the chairs and the apps are being printed. No worries,” Jessica assures, gesturing for you to hurry up and get outside, “Call the babies in!” your team leader waves her finger around like a magic wand, commanding you to the front lines.

Krystal puts a hand on her shoulder, as always looking impeccable. She has virtually nothing to worry about. She’s a woman who has connections, courtesy of her team leader. “Let’s go, newbie,” she teases, pulling you through the door.

The recruits in the lobby are wide-eyed and vibrant, and you feel a little nostalgic as you watch them line up in front of you and Krystal as you sign them in. You would dwell on the feeling more if it wasn’t for your exhaustion, so you decide you’ll get a chance to take a road down memory lane when you get to the hotel.

“Name?”

“Xu Minghao.”

“Congrats Minghao, here’s your nametag and I’ll see you inside,” with a firm handshake, one recruiter is free to go.

“Name?”

“Chou Tzuyu.”

“Congrats Tzuyu, here’s your name tag and I’ll see you inside,” she doesn’t go in straight away, and moves to the side of the door. “Actually,” you pause mid-handshake with another recruit, staring at the woman in curiosity, “my boyfriend just got a call last night that he was accepted in this year’s batch. Do you have his name?”

“Yes, three more recruits were added,” you chirp, as if you totally did not hear that bit of information five minutes ago, “What’s his name—Jungkook?”

The both of you blink at each other. One hand on Tzuyu’s shoulder, eyes wide and mirroring yours. Your heart falls straight to your stomach, wanting to be eaten by acids and bacteria so you can stop any possibility of feeling any lingering affection for the boy you fooled around with in undergrad. Everything about him screams professional. He’s clean cut, a pinstripe black suit you never thought he’d own, and his hair is neatly trimmed and pulled behind his ears. His shoulders look tall and broad under the slight padding, his biceps comfortably stretching against the dark fabric. The golden complexion remains the same however, from the honest brown eyes to the coral pink lips that would always smile at you.

“Oh, so you do have his name!” Tzuyu clasps her hands together, delighted. He has a girlfriend, too. It’s then you realize you’ll be stuck with not just him, but her for the week. “You guys are so efficient. C’mon Kookie, let’s find some seats!”

“I still gotta get my nametag,” he replies goodnaturedly, gesturing to you, “save us some seats in the front?”

Tzuyu thinks nothing of it, squeezing his bicep before skipping off to the front row. Your eyes linger on her form, and it’s only then you realize how tall and intimidatingly pretty she looks in that plaid teddy bear brown skirt suit. You did not look that good when you were a budding undergrad.

By this time, Krystal has taken all your other recruits from your line, regarding you with a raised brow. She’s fast with her attendance, so you know you don’t have much time.

“I applied last minute,” Jungkook says, scratching his head, “was running out of options before graduation. I didn’t know you’d be one of my recruiters, though. Lucky me.”

Jungkook and you never ended up keeping in contact, at least as of recent. A check-in message a few months in, a happy birthday or holiday greeting late at night. But two years later and those messages are automatic, with no feeling or personality. You never thought you’d see him again, no less in the city.

“You just graduated with your masters, congrats,” you smile at Jungkook, although you’re sure the feigned emotion fails to reach your eyes, “IT Management, right?”

“You remembered,” Jungkook brightens, reaching over to squeeze your shoulder, “you look good.”

“Oh please—” you laugh to yourself, shaking your head, “I just got off a flight and I ran over in a two-day old suit, I don’t even have makeup on,” you didn’t feel this way in the morning, you just rushed to do the bare minimum to be enough and ran over to the convention hall. But now in the presence of Jungkook who looks so handsome and clean-cut, you can’t help but feel a little slighted at the sudden reunion.

“You’re always beautiful,” Jungkook exhales, and you clutch your clipboard closer to your chest.

You cough, an excuse for him to stop touching your shoulder, “You should go inside, it’s gonna start soon. We can catch up later.”

“Wait—” you make a scrunched up face that Jungkook can’t catch, but right in Krystal’s view. You can tell she’s laughing at you internally with her devious grin. “I just wanted to say, Tzuyu isn’t my girlfriend. We’re just…”

“Fooling around?” you didn’t mean for it to sound so sharp, but you wanted this conversation over. You have a job to do and Jungkook is your emotional barrier.

You and Jungkook used to fool around.

Jungkook winces, looking younger in his monkey suit. “I mean if you give me a chance to explain later—”

“Nametag, let’s go newbie.” Krystal slaps on the sticker herself, a little too hard if she asked. She doesn’t even bother to write his full name, just a bright green Jeon JK, IT Management tacked on his breast pocket, clashing with the gold pocket square.

“Sorry,” Jungkook tucks his tail in for now, bowing at you and Krystal as he scurries inside.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. Krystal doesn’t bother to comfort you or ask what’s up—not that you want her to, even though you do want a breather before you have to go up on that stage and explain the itinerary for a week. The only thing you can do is smooth out your skirt, brush away the flyaways on your hairstyle and plaster a company-paid smile on your face.

The autopilot switch is on throughout the rest of the morning. Not just because Jungkook’s around, but the new position has got you on livewire. You’re glad that you’re not wearing base makeup because you are absolutely melting with all the high beam lights all up in your face as you talk through the week’s activities.

You could swear Jungkook clapped a little harder than most once you stopped talking, but maybe it’s because you’re not used to seeing Jungkook in the very front of a lecture. In fact, he was a very hard middle person, preferring not to show off his intelligence and let other people lead the discussion. Then again, it’s been two years, you don’t know how much he’s changed.

Jessica caps off the seminar with a great kick-off, the happy hour. The recruitment team picks a four star restaurant under their hotel so the recruits can enjoy themselves before going off to the training facility for a week.

And by training facility, you also mean yet another four-star hotel. You knew you made the right decision by joining this company because the benefits are impeccable, and value personal enjoyment just as much as they value work ethic. In the morning you and the recruits will be driving uptown to a private resort where there would be classes in the morning, and recoup in the evening. You’re very much looking forward to the infinity pool on the roof.

The recruits are ushered out as soon as you’re done, and that’s when you step out of the shadows to clean up the chairs and the brochures left behind. Thankfully Jungkook is probably following the norm and going back to the hotel to freshen up before dinner. Once the room is completely empty, you rip off your blazer and let yourself relax.

It’s going to be a long week.

Jeon: where u @?

You: hotel room

Jeon: why? Thought we were all gonna have dinner together

You: nahhh, this night is for the recruits! You’ll be tired of our faces by the end of the week, enjoy it while you can 😉 have a good night

You sigh in contentment, relaxing further into the silk sheets. You just finished your skincare routine, letting some mindless drama play as the essences and serums sink into your skin. All you want is one Jungkook-free night. Tomorrow you’ll be stuck training him and Tzuyu for the week and you want to take tonight to emotionally prepare yourself.

Your phone rings once more.

Big Baddie Jessica Jung: krystal and i ordered takeout in the restaurant downstairs. Can u bring it to our room? Plsssssss

Little Baddie Krystal Jung: it’ll be faster if you do it, we even got u a lil somethin🍰🍰🍰

Taking in your outfit, you grimace. You’re dressed for bed, a large nightie with your hair pulled back and a little pink bunny tie headband on top. Can’t they get room service to send it up? You admire your boss but you don’t understand why she needs to display her power over and over, she already knows you’ll follow her to the ends of the earth.

Quickly slipping into a pair of sneakers you run down the expanse of the hotel. It’s easy to spot where the recruits are, livin’ it up in the large restaurant that takes up half the space of the ground floor. Most of them are pretty drunk, hoping to sleep off the hangover on the four-hour bus ride. You have absolutely no judgement, two years ago you were in the same position.

Thankfully you don’t have to go far into the restaurant, as the hostess immediately knows Jessica’s order. While you wait for her to go into the kitchen and get it you drum your fingers against the counter, hoping no one notices you. It’s akin to when you’re a teacher in a mall, hoping none of your students gawk at you in the middle of Victoria’s Secret.

“Ah, well Jungkook and I aren’t official yet—but very soon.”

Your ears perk up at the sweet voice. Tzuyu is leaning across the open bar next to the counter, sipping on a mango mojito. She’s dumped the blazer for the night, showing off her soft skin and slender arms with a sleeveless cream blouse.

“Then where is he?” another recruiter asks, gesturing to the expanse of the lobby.

“He’s not much of a party person,” Tzuyu shrugs, tipping back her drink.

You scoff, plastering on a smile to the hostess as you grab your bags and walk as fast as you can out of the lobby. You’ve never felt more like an old hag until now. Sure, most of the recruits are younger than you, but seeing Tzuyu talk so freely about her relationship with Jungkook has you in a bit of a spiral. The day of graduation, you told Jungkook not to wait for you. Heck, you’re only interested in the idea of what you could’ve had with Jungkook.

These thoughts only cloud you further as you jab the elevator buttons all the way up to the suites where you and the Jungs reside. You relax a little when you see a strawberry cheesecake sitting prettily on the top of their order, your name written on the label with a little heart. Hanging their bag on the door handle of their room, you make your way back to your suite.

You freeze when you see a floppy-haired Jungkook roaming the hallway, looking like a clueless child hobbling around in slippers and wide eyes at any sparkly item that decorates the area. It doesn’t even look like he tried attending the happy hour tonight, dressed in an impossibly big heather grey sweatsuit that swallows his form.

“Are you lost?” you ask tentatively, as if you’re talking to a toddler lost at the mall.

Jungkook relaxes considerably at the sound of your voice, and he replies, “Was tryna find your room since you didn’t reply to my texts.”

“So… you decided to check all the rooms?”

“Yep,” he pops the p with a smack of his lips, “I figured the recruiters would be far away from the party so I started at the top. Thankfully I got to Jessica’s room first. Didn’t have to knock on too many doors. Only one old man got annoyed at me.”

“You’re crazy,” you chuckle, slipping in your keycard to let Jungkook in.

“Fuck, this room all to yourself?”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to kick his slides to a corner of the wall, flopping atop your bed and clutching your baby blue koala plush in his arms. The king sized bed is enough for his legs to stretch comfortably without falling off the edge, and he eagerly pads his feet against the soft fabric.

It warms you to think that Jungkook is comfy enough to lay on your bed and hug your stuffed animals, a semblance of friends that you’ve missed for such a long time. Last year the team you worked for was great, you loved the people and even now you consider some of them friends. This year the team is a little smaller, and since your two other co-workers are sisters, it’s a little harder to nudge yourself in the direction of friendship.

As soon as you sit down against the headboard, Jungkook’s eyes soften. Everything feels so different and the same. The threadbare pajamas that either of you haven’t had the heart to throw away since they’re so damn comfy, yet your bodies are a little more worn and your eyes a little more droopier than usual.

“So,” Jungkook bites his lip, not in the sexy way, but the nervous way, “about Tzuyu—”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to explain yourself,” you slump on your corner of the bed, regarding Jungkook with guilty eyes. “I really shouldn’t be feeling the way I’m feeling. It isn’t fair and I don’t want to jeopardize your internship.”

“And… what are you feeling?”

“Dumb things.”

“Your feelings aren’t dumb.”

“This time they are.”

“I’ve always shared my feelings, it’s unfair that you never want to share yours,” Jungkook sits up, criss-cross applesauce, pensive. “Maybe it’s my fault for not making you feel comfortable enough to share, but I feel like the reason why we never worked out was because we never tried hard enough to have a proper conversation.”

How could you have missed all the indicators, all the good words, all the kindness Jungkook has given you that last semester? “You’re absolutely right,” you let your insecurities, your apprehensiveness, get in the way. You think in two years you’d do better to eradicate this kind of behavior, but lately you haven’t had many friends to express your feelings to. “Tell you what, I’ll work harder to express how I feel. No exchanges, no nothings. I owe you this.”

“You owe me nothing,” Jungkook smiles, “I just think it would be nice to y’know, talk. As friends.”

“Right, friends.”

“So, will you hear me out about Tzuyu?”

“Let me open my cake,” you pull out your bag with the cheesecake, which thankfully has two spoons, “it seems like we’ll be having that kind of conversation.”

Everyone is more amicable because of food. According to Jungkook, Tzuyu has a hardcore, ten-year plan for her twenties. After a couple of dates with Jungkook, Tzuyu whips him into the plan. Mentions that she’s well-bred and has a family reputation to uphold. Says IT Management is something completely desirable in a partner, that he’s sensible and wonderful and would like to be committed full-time.

“And she talked to her parents about me and said that I’m a good prospect for marriage. Like I’m another pillar in her plan!” Jungkook cries, taking a monstrously sized bite of your cheesecake, wallowing away.

This is akin to sleepovers you’ve always wanted to have in high school, down to the food gorging. You can’t help but be fascinated, “So are you wrapped up in an engagement? Is this a scary rendition of Crazy Rich Asians?”

“You just can’t turn a one-eighty like that on a fifth date,” Jungkook shakes his head, reeling at the emotional whiplash, “she’s really nice. Really organized, really perfect. It really intimidates me.”

“Is she what you reaaaally want?” you can’t help but ask, rolling your eyes at the excessive use of the word, and tamp down the pain in your stomach by eating a forkful of creamy cheesecake.

“I don’t know!” Jungkook replies exasperatedly, “Obviously I’m worried since she wants to put a ring on it. I told her she needs to back off. Right after the seminar I said she had no right telling other people we’re boyfriend and girlfriend. She didn’t say much, just frowned and walked away.”

You roll your eyes, scraping the leftover graham cracker crust from the edge of the plastic plate. “According to her, I heard you two are planning to make it official very soon.”

His eyes widen, “I really bring girl trouble wherever I go, don’t I?”

“Since I’ve known you,” you half-joke, putting away the plastic cutlery on the nightstand.

You two sit in silence for a few moments, letting the television fill the room with mindless static about some sappy Hallmark movie. Tentatively, you land a hand on Jungkook’s knee. He looks down at your tiny fingers, giving his skin an experimental squeeze of comfort.

“I don’t want her,” he finally says.

“Okay,” you reply, “you won’t even have to talk to her if you don’t want to. I can arrange the groups this week so you don’t have to be around—”

“Give me one week,” his eyes flash to yours, dark and sharp.

“Jungkook. You have your determined face on,” it makes you sweat.

“Because I’m determined to win you over, once and for all,” you eyes widen, and Jungkook visibly freezes, “was that too much? I’m kind of on an emotional high today. I didn’t expect to see you today and it kind of threw me into a loop. I thought I might be running into you once I started my internship but I didn’t think you’d be my recruiter. And then you went on that stage all bad-ass talking about work and you looked so gorgeous in your suit and I was so proud knowing you made it and IrealizedhowmuchImissedyou—”

“Jungkook, slower,” you’re feeling a little woozy as well, equally overwhelmed. “You’re just saying this because you didn’t expect to see me—”

“You’re deflecting, again.”

“I’m scared, okay?” you blurt, throwing your hands in the air. “You’re right, this is all so sudden. So can’t we just start being friends and see if it takes us somewhere? You don’t have to win me over, just support me like I’ll support you.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook moves up the bed, so he’s leaning against the headboard as well. His long legs stretch farther than yours, and it feels oddly domestic as you talk it out and stare at the television screen. “I’m just, worried I’m running out of time.”

“I'm not going anywhere this time.”

“I know,” Jungkook shakes his head, ridding himself of his torrid thoughts. Conceding, he gestures to the television, pulling out the remote under your pillow, “wanna watch television, or catch up?”

You last about an hour until you knock out. However, Jungkook keeps you entertained up until that moment, as you exchange your lives and stresses. Everything meshes together, you’re not sure if it’s the charm that comes with late night talks, but you feel like you can talk to Jungkook about anything if given the time. You melt when he strokes your hair till the last minute, wishing you a goodnight and a promise of more.

“Okay, I’ve gone over most of the work ethics in the manual,” you smile nervously when you see your glazed over recruits, nearly falling off their chairs. Even Krystal is bored out of her mind, discreetly playing with her phone in the back under her manual. Of course you’d get stuck with teaching the boring classes. “Any last minute questions before we head off for dinner?”

Tzuyu shoots her hand up, “Are romantic relationships allowed in the workplace?”

Jungkook promptly chokes on his water bottle. He looks up at you, panicked. Ignoring his terror, you paint on a thin smile towards the young woman, “Like I mentioned earlier, romantic relationships between employees are not frowned upon, so long as you’re not working under or over someone in the same department.”

“Right, just wanted to make sure,” Tzuyu is all chipper smiles as she thanks you.

If you were still twenty-one, you’d gag at the pointed look she sends Jungkook. They’re sitting diagonal from each other, and Jungkook makes a point to pretend to be interested in your lecture until the very end.

You’re halfway done with recruitment week, and while you’re not shocked at how fast the week has gone by, you’re fairly disappointed that Jungkook and you haven’t had time to meet up in private. So far it’s been easy enough to keep your friendship (and past sexual relationship) a secret, but something dark and eager tells you how much you want more. The recruiters are eager to leave, all twenty-three of them grouping off and talking about what they want to eat for dinner. Everyone except a certain dark-haired fellow, who’s hair is currently bouncing off it’s styled coiff, wanting to return to it’s normal non-gelled self.

“Kookie,” you raise a brow at the interaction, Tzuyu leaning over her chair to Jungkook’s, “wanna get dinner tonight?”

Jungkook’s taking an excruciatingly long time to pack his things, raising a brow at her, “I’ve told you already, I don’t want to be involved in whatever plans you have.”

“Oh-kay,” Tzuyu rocks back and forth on her oxford heels, pursing her magenta pink lips, “then why don’t we at least walk back to the hotel together? I really want to talk about some things that might change your mind.”

“Nothing will change my mind,” Jungkook’s determined face has been staying strong for the week, from the way he makes sure he’s first in your class to the simple “good morning” and “good night” texts you exchange. “Besides, I have a date tonight. And I really want to talk to the recruiters about a personal work matter, so can you please leave?”

You try not to snort at how blatant Jungkook was being. You pretend to organize your folders, throwing whatever random notes you have in your bag for later.

“A date,” she twitches, “with who?”

“Someone that doesn’t treat me like a stepping stone in her career path,” Jungkook deadpans, and that’s all it takes for Tzuyu to huff and walk away from the hall.

You think Tzuyu is like a bug, relatively harmless, but someone who gets on your nerves.

“A date, huh?” Krystal quotes, finally looking up from her phone. Her sharp, cat-eyes linger at the door, wondering if Tzuyu is going to pop out and try to drag Jungkook by the reins. Finally, she plants her stare between you and Jungkook. “So, you two fucking?”

“Former fucking,” Jungkook supplies helpfully, and you jump off your podium to elbow him in the ribs, “ow—what?”

“You just don’t tell Krystal we’re fucking!”

“Former fucking,” he chastises, but the eyes he sends you are a little sultry, and you wonder if he’s thinking of fucking in the future. You reel yourself back, focusing on the third party.

But you anticipate that Krystal couldn’t care less, and you’re grateful for that. While a smaller work team means a smaller possibility of close work relationships, you do like the drama-free environment. “Like you said,” Krystal shrugs, slinging her briefcase over her shoulder, “romantic relationships in the workplace are not frowned upon.”

You wring your hands between your bag when Krystal finally makes her getaway, and you look up at Jungkook. “So,” you smile wryly, “you have a date tonight, huh?”

“With a pretty working woman,” he sighs dramatically, putting a hand over his chest, “that is, if she’ll have me.”

“Consider yourself taken.”

Jungkook and you sneak away to your suite once again. To your surprise, the suite is decorated in rose petals and a bottle of champagne sits in an ice bath on your bedside. A large pizza pie sits beautifully on your coffee table, and the television is playing lo-fi hip-hop.

You feed Jungkook champagne-dipped strawberries as you gorge on the joy that is baked bread and cheese.

And when he kisses you, it’s slow and sweet, like you have all the time in the world.

It’s the last day of recruitment week, and all classes ended at noon so the interns can use all the resort’s amenities to the fullest. Many of the interns, including yourself, Jessica and Krystal, are on the rooftop celebrating a successful workweek. Staff and interns alike are buzzing around, eager to top off their weekend with some relaxation and sun.

Jungkook is with his new team, conversing with other IT employees. You try not to stare too hard at your reignited flame, tipping back a cutely decorated glass of fruit. His arms ripple as he tips back the liquid. He’s wearing a tank top and you could swear his biceps have gotten meatier. Unfortunately you hold yourself back, after all the internship isn’t quite over and you still are a professional.

At the end of the weekend you really have nothing to worry about, you know that.

But Tzuyu? She irritating.

“I just don’t understand,” Tzuyu suspects nothing of your budding relationship with Jungkook. You’re thankful for that because towards the end of the week, it was getting harder and harder to be subtle when you two send each other heart eyes from three meters away.

Tzuyu sounds like she’s talking to herself, the way she stares into the infinity pool, despite the fact that her friends are surrounding her with rapt attention. You’re a cabana away from her, sipping languidly at your drink while Jessica and Krystal nap next to you. Even though you can’t see Tzuyu, you can practically feel her pout emanating through the fabric that separates you two. Despite the fact that she’s been offered a great intern position given her degree and experience, she’s still upset. For her, is that not the most important part of this whole week?

“Jungkook’s really not that great if he’s going to turn me down like that,” Tzuyu seethes. You should write up her nonsense in a book and publish it, really. “Why waste time when he has the whole package right in front of him?”

It’s then you realize why you’ve been so torn, so strung up and wound tight all these years. Just like college, all shy and hesitant to take a step forward while Jungkook was ten steps ahead, you were worried. You let other people’s thoughts stop you from making the leap, girls like Tzuyu that never meant to intimidate you, but you let their presence get up in your head and control the nonexistent hierarchy.

But two years later, and that doesn’t matter. It never mattered. Jungkook is no longer the all-star lacrosse player, but what remains is his heart, full and willing.

Everything Tzuyu just said was… wrong. Irrevocably, inexplicably messed up. But the idea of “wasting time” does strike a chord within you. Are you wasting time? At this point, your feelings of each other are pretty clear. What are you two waiting for, again?

You thought Krystal was sleeping, considering her sunhat sitting atop her face, but once she hears you packing away your bag she whistles, “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Sending a quick text to Jungkook, you make a beeline for your destination. You don’t even bother looking for him in the crowd.

You: meet me by the elevator at the very end of the lobby.

Not a minute passes by when Jungkook joins you at said elevator. He has two glasses of champagne in his hands, and offers one to you, “tired of the party?” he asks.

You clink drinks, easily tipping yours back. “It’s not our thing,” you declare with a small smile. Jungkook's eyes soften, glancing back and forth between your face and the soft pleats of your marigold sundress. His hair is pushed back, sticky from sweat and chlorine, dark bangs hanging over the shaved sides of his head. You turn your head slightly as you wait for the elevator, biting your lip as you're sorely reminded of how sexy Jungkook looked at the dive pool half an hour ago.

The elevator dings, and it’s wide enough for you to slip in at the same time. You put your champagne glass in the corner of the elevator for now, hoping you don’t accidentally step on it. In closed quarters, you can smell the slight tang of chlorine coming from Jungkook, combined with his own brand of musk.

Jungkook looks younger tonight, happier. Having just finished graduate school and working towards a full-time gig, another chapter in his life has started. His hair is no longer in that tight-whipped coiff he struggled all week to maintain, loosened in its natural wave due to the pool water and heat. His cheeks are a little ruddied and plump, a sign he’s been enjoying the food this week.

The door barely closes when you get it out, pulling at his hand to face you.

“Jungkook, I like you,” you blurt, and his eyes bug out considerably. Out of reflex, his hand sharply squeezes yours. “You don’t have to say anything, because you’ve been saying everything for the majority of our relationship. I really like you, I really liked you back then too. You’re still so sweet, and loving, and smart and I’ve just been too dumb and insecure to—”

Jungkook seals your confession away with a desperate kiss, and you turn into a pile of mush at the contact. Relief seeps into your bones, sings into your system. When he pulls away, he looks serious. He doesn’t let you get far, and clutches your face between his two hands so you can’t turn your head. Your soft cheeks fill between his fingers, warm and cradled.

“Never call yourself that,” Jungkook exhales, regarding you with firm eyes, “you’re beautiful, and intelligent, and the person I want.”

“I don’t wanna take it slow anymore,” you mumble against his lips, leaning in so that you can barely nip at the pink skin. “Want you now, need you now.”

“You have me now,” Jungkook agrees, and as soon as the elevator dings open to your floor, he scoops you up into his arms.

By all means it’s not graceful, he’s clutching you like a baby with his hands over your butt as he jiggles you all the way to your front door. Clinging onto him like a koala, you press kisses to his cheeks as he leads you to your room. You laugh and giggle like teenagers, as he fumbles between your breast to grab the card key that’s nestled between your bra. It’s warm in his hand as he swipes it through the reader, pushing you inside.

“Is it bad that I’m kinda turned on by the fact you got my key out of my boob?” you joke, although the contact of his rough fingers against your breast is a feeling well missed.

“Is it bad that I’m always turned on when you lecture in seminars?” Jungkook retorts, kicking the door closed with his slipper-clad foot as he walks you to the bed. “Fuck, I can hear you talk about insurance benefits all day.”

“Didn’t know my sex appeal extended that way—oh fuck—”

Your vibrant marigold sundresses provides easy access to Jungkook as he throws you onto the mattress, your skirt billowing over your waist as he makes quick work to expose more of your skin.

“No more talking, more loving,” he’s crazed, doesn’t hesitate to move your bikini bottoms to the side as he rubs lovingly at your long-lost bud, “need to fuck you, now. It’s been so fucking long.”

“Kook,” his breath is warm against your already sopping cunt, and you lift your hand to run through the strands of his messy hair. It only takes one firm tug and you’re able to pull him up by the root of his hair, cranberry juice tinted lips with a faint sheen because he couldn’t help himself to have a little taste of you. “Baby, let me touch you. Let me show you how much I want you," you coo with a pout, hands trailing over the drawstrings of his trunks.

You can see how much Jungkook wants to say yes. His eyes glow with the possibility, bright and wanting in the afternoon sunlight. The image of him shoving his cock deep into your throat, so far that you can taste it in every crevice of your mouth. Your nails gripping into his ass as you go deeper, tears pricking your eyes as cum seeps out of your pretty lips.

But he firmly shakes his head, fingers doing the devil’s work as he eases a digit in you. A little noise of protest bubbles in your throat, but it soon dies out as soon as he finds the right spot to reduce you to mush.

“Next time,” he exhales against the juncture between your thigh and pelvis, picking up the pace and adding another finger, “if you touch me, I’ll cum right then n’there. This is enough for me, you’re enough.”

So you let him have what he wants. You’ll make it up to him in the morning, and the day after, and the day after. You shed your clothes, the sundress extra forgiving as it slides off your body, revealing a swimsuit that hasn’t even touched the pool. You feel a little self-conscious as he drinks you in after so long, but he quickly shucks off his clothes to match your state of nakedness.

You remember how you tiptoed around your first night with Jungkook, taking great care to make sure it was fleeting, how dark the room was as you let your pleasure take over your senses. Two years later and the sun is setting, gold bleeding through your sheets and illuminating the room. There's no need to hide.

“I must say, we’ve both kept it tight,” Jungkook teases with a wink, squeezing your hips so he can change positions.

You silently agree, your fingers slipping across the washboard of his waist.

“Mm, and still so fuckin’ cute,” Jungkook marvels as he pulls you up on his lap. Your whole body is flushed with want, one hand squeezing your breasts while the other plays with the curls of hair that lead to your sopping wetness. You glide your core over Jungkook’s stomach, sighing as you take note of the abs that clench under your heat and his hot member that rubs between your ass.

It’s a tight fit when you finally sink down on him, but the burn only fuels your desire as he stretches you wide. His grip is helpful as he guides you through the motions. It’s been awhile since you’ve been this physical with someone, and it’s almost comical when you both sigh in contentment at the contact.

“I’ve missed this,” you mumble, biting into his shoulder as he thrusts up.

“Mm, it feels different, right?” Jungkook hums, keeping a slow pace. The drag is wonderful, and you know that he’s trying to prolong the moment. He reaches for your head, presses his forehead to yours as he speaks, “you’re mine now, right? For real.”

“I’m all yours, Jungkook,” you press kisses everywhere. No need to hide anymore. You bleed love into every kiss, to his jawline, the little freckles across his chin, his lips. “This is romantic and all, but I really want you to dick me down. Which is why you need to go a little faster, you sap.”

Jungkook scoffs, “A pillow princess is what you are.”

He stops moving, and you two sink further into the mattress without its springs bringing you back up. The both of you are acutely aware of how wet you both are, your combined arousals seeping between your seams and dripping onto Jungkook’s thighs. But the young man simply relaxes against the headboard, baiting you.

“Kook,” you whine, clenching against his member. Your hot walls have a mind of their own, unable to stifle their desire. Sweat lines Jungkook’s brow as he tries his hardest not to move, just simply be.

“Tell me how much you want me, princess,” the pet name has you clenching harder, and you pout.

“Baby,” you whine, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. There’s no one in the room, and you’re sure no one is on this floor because everyone’s on the rooftop, but the words you’re about to say are for Jungkook and Jungkook only, “please, I want you to pound me into this mattress until I can’t walk anymore. I want to cry out your name so everyone can hear I’m yours. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you nip at his lobe, and let your thumb nick at the simple silver rings that adorn his ear. You hear a click of his teeth, indicating the clench of his jaw as his muscles flex around your body, "I want you to fill me with your cum until I’m eating it, and—and—oh Kook!”

Your words aren’t enough to distract you from his large dick sitting prettily between your folds, and you’re suddenly cumming, all by the mere thought of what’s to happen. You’re shuddering in his arms, and Jungkook soothes you by running his fingers over the spine of your back, distracting you from the utter mess you’re making on the sheets.

“Such a good girl,” Jungkook coddles you, stroking your hair, “can my good girl take it?”

“Y-yes, Kook,” you nod eagerly, fighting the overstimulation as he nudges you off his lap. You’re pliable, as Jungkook sets up the pillows for you to rest comfortably as you get on your elbows and knees, “your good girl.”

You shudder as your bare pussy starts to feel cold, immediately missing the warmth Jungkook can provide. You can practically feel his hot gaze burning in your back, his large palm squeezing your ass as he marvels at how ready and eager you are for him.

“It’s so easy to slip inside,” Jungkook rubs your nectar across the head of his cock, swirling around your engorged skin as he slips right inside. You both moan at the stretch, “Finally, my adorable baby, you like this? You like getting pounded like the dirty girl you really are?”

“Mm, yes!” you squeal, clutching onto the feather down pillows for dear life as Jungkook displays his strength, one hand gripping your hips as the other weaves itself into your hair. It’s a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, and the lewd sounds of each other’s juices and his balls against your ass echoing in the room.

“Y-yeah,” despite his power, his thrusts are sloppy, and you know he’s almost at the edge, “and I like you, so so much. I want to make you cum everyday, make you happy and—mph—” he gives up on talking, focusing entirely on his destination.

“Cum, baby,” you urge, melting when his one hand comes to thread with your own, “fill me up with you.”

He flips you on your back, and you finally see how desperate Jungkook is to cum. His eyes are glassy, filled with emotion as he strokes himself to completion. Your hand reaches up to cup his damp face, and that’s when you feel him loosen. Hot, pearly strings cling to your pussy, decorating your skin in his essence. Your fingers immediately reach down to swirl the cum between your folds, and Jungkook groans at the picture, immediately throwing your hands to the side to kiss you senseless.

There’s so much pouring between the two of you, affection, the feeling of being cherished, so much that you can feel the whole world reducing to the two of you.

“All mine,” he whispers to himself, as if he still can’t believe it. And then, he puts up a poker face as he leans into you, resting his head gently on your breasts, “I knew I only needed a week.”

You narrow your eyes, flicking lightly at his forehead. You’re sticky, sweaty, and covered in cum and while you’re exhausted, the built in jacuzzi in your washroom looks very enticing right now. “Jungkook, this happened naturally. I said we would try as friends first and we did. We just so happened to escalate pretty fast.”

“I don’t think it was that fast,” Jungkook nuzzles his face into your skin, “it’s been two years since college. Being popular did do a number on our relationship, but we caught up."

“You were popular-ish,” you roll your eyes, teasing him. His face falls, and you can’t help yourself. Your hands reach over to cup his cheeks, and you happily squish the supple, pouty flesh. He’s adorable. “Kim Taehyung though? Park Jimin? Absolute heartthrobs I couldn’t stand to be near them—ah!”

Jungkook seems to read your mind, lifting you bridal style to drag you over to the bathroom where the marble jacuzzi sits tauntingly. The stone is ice cold as he brings you both inside, immediately turning on the nozzles to fill it with steaming hot water. You find the tiny bottle of lavender suds, spilling the soap in an arc. His legs slip over yours, cradling you so that your back is pressed against Jungkook’s chest.

“Being popular never mattered,” Jungkook shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “I realized the only person who I really needed to notice me was you.”

bonus.

You wake Jungkook up the next morning with your lips wrapped around his cock, fresh cherry balm rubbing down the thick veins until he's cumming down your throat.

"Wow," Jungkook whistles, licking his lips at the sight of you sucking the arousal from your thumb. He huffs against the pillow, eyes darting to the open organza window, letting in the early morning light. The rooftop of a multi-star hotel, white Egyptian cotton seats, a full time job on the way and waking up in the most blissful way possible.

"I have a proposal," you crawl on top of him like a koala, hooking your thighs between his blanket clad body.

"I do," he replies instantly, looking straight at you with droopy puppy eyes.

"Not that kind," you slap his chest, "where are you living once orientation is over?"

"Mm, there's a boarding house near a local translation. It's probably an hour commute? Not too bad."

"So, I just leased a townhouse last month," you bite your lip, tucking your head between his neck to hide your embarrassment, "I was gonna rent out the spare room and put an advert in the paper but…"

"I do."

"I said it isn't a marriage proposal."

"Asking you to live with me is basically a marriage proposal."

"There will be no benefits," you sit up, wagging a finger in his face, "you'll be paying rent and half the utilities. And you will be doing all the laundry."

"Sure," Jungkook replies loftily, squeezing your ass, "you're benefit enough."

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #goldenclosetnet #jungkook fic #jungkook scenario #bts fic

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milkybonya · 3 years

Text

In THE DaRk

order 004 for anon: large coconut milk tea (In THE DaRk by BOBBy) with regular tapioca pearls and fresh taro

Warnings: food mentions

Pairing: idol!Hui x delivery worker!reader

Summary: you deliver food to cube ent. and end up becoming friends with Hui, an idol who's at the peak of his career... but he finds himself falling for you even as his songs rise on the charts :")

Word count: like maybe 3k?

[a/n]: i love this request because i love this song and writing it while listening to the song on loop in the dark of my room just made me so happy? also i put wayyyy more effort into this than necessary and it turned out super long >.< i'm so sorry anonnie i hope you like itttt ahhh

Shine, you shine on my existence

Sure, Hui was an idol with a life of his own - especially now, during Shine promotions, that his group, PENTAGON, was blowing up. Yet he never failed to make time for you, because you were the light of his life.

As a hardworking idol who was always cooped up in his studio and skipping meals, his members encouraged him to at least order food. He was reluctant but eventually agreed, not wanting to make them worry.

That's where you came in: a delivery worker at a local restaurant not too far from Cube entertainment, Hui's company. A lot of people ordered from your restaurant to Cube, so you weren't surprised when a new order flashed on the iPad screen at your workplace.

"We've got another delivery, [y/n]," the worker at the front told you with a smile, walking to the back to tell the cooks what to prepare.

You tapped your feet against the ground, awaiting the order. Once it was prepared, you carefully placed it in your delivery bag, fastened it to your bike and off you went, wearing a helmet of course.

The gentle breeze was enough to cheer you up and give you energy, despite the scene around you being full of traffic and slightly bleak.

Once you arrived, the guards let you in without even checking your workplace ID this time, recognizing you as a trusted delivery person.

You made your way up to the floor listed on the order, roaming through countless hallways until you finally found the right room. Judging by the area and the doors, it seemed to be full of studios.

The person who ordered this must be working hard, you thought to yourself.

Suddenly, you got an urge to leave a note, wishing the person well. You took out a scrap piece of paper and a pen that you always had handy, your heart racing and your hands shaking at the thought of doing this. You were excited at the idea of the person being happy to see such a cheerful note...

I hope you enjoy this meal and that it gives you enough energy to keep working hard :) Go for it!

After neatly placing the food and note at the door, you knocked and walked away, not wanting to bother the person. Even though you didn't turn your back, you heard the door open a few seconds later.

"Thank you!" a voice echoed through the hall.

You turned quickly to say ‘you’re welcome’ in response and caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a young idol hard at work. His hair was messy and he had dark circles under his eyes, but his mismatches clothes and bright smile were quite cute.

You thought that would be the last you’d see of him, but from that day onwards, he always ordered food from your restaurant at the same time: 2:09pm. Why so specific? You weren’t sure, but that’s how it was, and you being the only delivery worker at your restaurant meant that it would always be you taking the food to him.

The second time you went, you were surprised to see a note waiting on the door for you.

Thank you for your cheerful message... I’ll do my best to work harder!

It made you smile and you decided to leave another note with his order, this time just asking him what his favourite side dishes were so you could tell the cooks to put more of those in next time. Instead of him leaving a note for you with the response, though, Hui decided to text you this time so he wouldn't have to wait for you to make another delivery before you could see his response.

Unknown: This is Hui! Ah, I ordered food from you at 2:09pm? I'm not really picky on side dishes, but one of my members likes kimchi, so could you make sure to leave more of that for me?

You: sure, of course! but how did you get my number?

Hardworking Hui: Ah, sorry! It was on the app since you're the delivery worker... for me to contact you in case you get lost? I'm sorry!

You: No, that's okay! i just wanted to be sure ^^

So after that day, you made sure Hui always got extra kimchi with his order. He would always greet you at the door of his studio, quickly asking about your day and how you were doing. Truthfully, he actually wanted to ask you to come inside so he could talk with you some more, because the two of you would always get an interesting conversation going before you declared you had to leave.

Since he was too shy to ask you in person, he texted you, instead.

Hardworking Hui: could you get the rest of the day off after delivering my order today?

You: why?

Hardworking Hui: so you can eat with me? if that's okay? or just take an hour off!

You: ...

You: Only if you pay for my food :P

Hardworking Hui: deal

So that day, you asked your manager for the hour off from 2:30pm to 3:30pm. She agreed, knowing that you always work hard and deserve a break.

Showing up to Hui's studio with his usual order and some food for yourself in your hands, you knocked a little nervously this time, knowing that this wouldn't just be a delivery, but a whole... hang out? Type of thing?

Hui had made sure to clean his studio to the best of his ability, making sure that there was another comfy chair for you to sit on and that the room didn't smell bad or anything. He lit a couple of candles and vacuumed the place so there would be no dust. When you knocked on the door, he jumped out of his seat with excitement, immediately opening it.

"Hi! Come in," he said, holding the door open so you could step inside. Seeing the cosy, dimly lit space left you in awe.

"It's so cool to see where you've been working away for all this time," you said, sitting down on a chair and putting the food down.

"Yeah... sometimes I get tired of it, but it's home," Hui said, sitting on his studio chair and opening up the food.

"Ah... where's the kimchi?" Hui asked, pointing at all the dishes.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I told the cook to include my favourite side dish too, but he must have just replaced the kimchi with this instead, I'm so sorry!"

Hui laughed, shaking his head.

"It's completely fine!" he said, handing you your favourite side dish.

As the two of you began eating, you were able to get to know each other more as you spoke and asked each other questions. Even though it was a little silly asking for each other's favourite colours and seasons, it was a lot of fun, and the two of you turned out to have a lot in common.

Tears are erased by my emotions / Add, add colour to the world

After that day, you weren't just a delivery worker for Hui, and he wasn't just a customer to you. The two of you became close friends, attending the concerts of your favourite artists together. Hui would joke and say that he was attending for work reasons, trying to gain musical inspiration, while you had no real reason to be there. You'd slap his shoulder lightly, telling him to watch his words while he'd laugh at your reaction.

Even though his work was stressful at times, it was days like those that seemed to make him cry in reverse, if that was even possible? You showed up and turned his world around, adding colour onto his black and white canvas.

His members even told him that he seemed more cheerful and energetic despite still working hard in the studio, and Hui even told you that his songwriting process seemed to be running more smoothly.

"I'm so glad we became friends," he told you, leaning his head on your shoulder one day as the two of you sat on a park bench. You smiled, strongly agreeing with him in your own heart.

But do you remember when I mentioned Shine promotions at the beginning of this? Well, let's skip forward to that point.

By then, you had seen Hui and his group perform quite a few times, whether it was at concerts, music shows or even on the TV at your home. You were incredibly proud of him and wanted nothing but for him to succeed.

Every time Hui found you in the crowd at any of his live performances, he'd feel some kind of crazy adrenaline rush as all of his tiredness just seemed to magically disappear. He'd perform as if rent was due just because you gave him the energy to do so.

"Was [y/n] watching us again?" Hyunggu asked backstage after another performance for Shine ended safely.

"Yeah, I saw them there!" Hongseok confirmed.

"Plus, you can tell by the way Hui is acting," Yuto laughed, nodding towards Hui who was frantically texting you asking you if you'd left completely.

You told him you were still at the venue, and he begged you to come backstage. When you arrived, you greeted all of the Pentaboys, who adored you almost as much as Hui did, before joining Hui at his makeup table. You greeted the makeup artist too, out of respect, before asking Hui why he needed to see you so urgently.

"We might win today... I just wanted you to be by my side as good luck," he explained, a clearly worried expression on his face.

It was a shock to you that despite Shine doing so well on the charts, Pentagon still had not gotten their first win, but you knew they were an amazing group, regardless.

What you doing now? What's your plan now?

You placed your hand on top of Hui's, which rested on his own thigh.

"Hui, I know you haven't been getting all the wins you've been expecting, but we can't deny that this song is absolutely a bop and you have all been killing it!" you told him with a smile.

You couldn't tell whether or not your words had any sort of effect on him because he was looking down, but you hoped they at least didn't make him feel worse.

The rest of the Pentaboys cheered hearing your words though, feeling energized at your honest observation.

Hui was looking down because his stomach was tied in knots at the feeling of your hand on his. It was something he'd never felt before... butterflies? He tried to shrug it off but he couldn't stop wondering about your intentions... did you place your hand over his for a reason? What were you trying to tell him? What were you planning?

Inside my brain, after making a place for you / You make it impossible for me to sleep

That night, Hui still couldn't stop thinking about your simple gesture. You didn't mean anything by it, right? It was just a friend comforting a friend... the two of you had been friends for a while now, so why was he thinking into this so much?

As feelings of sleepiness took over, he drowsily wondered what it would be like to hold your hand rather than to just have his hand underneath yours. What would it be like to be held by you?

The next day, with more promotions ahead, you made sure to send Hui a text of good luck. You wouldn't be able to watch from the live audience that day, since you had work and deliveries to carry out, but you still wanted him to know that you were thinking of him.

Hui couldn't stop staring at your message of good luck for the whole day, pressing his finger on the heart emoji that you added at the end of your message.

"Hui hyung, are you reading something?" Wooseok asked the leader, sitting beside him on the sofa in the waiting room.

"Huh? N-no," Hui quickly said with a laugh, tucking his phone away.

"You've been staring at your phone all day... what is it, is it a fun webtoon?"

"No, no! Don't worry about it," Hui laughed, ruffling the tall boy's hair.

Wooseok whined, yelling about how the stylist just did his hair. Meanwhile, Hui's heart was racing. Why had he been staring at your text message all day?

You: I'm thinking of you today, Hui! Go get em, good luck <3

Are you thinking of me in this dawn? / I wish there was a continuous portal from my room to yours

Again, that night, Hui couldn't stop thinking about you. This time, it was about the message you'd sent him. He still had it open and was staring at it. He wondered if, when you said you were thinking of him, did that mean you were thinking of him right then and there too? At the same time when he was thinking about you?

Were your sleepless thoughts filled with him, just like his were filled with you-?

Ring ring. Ring ring.

Shit.

He'd been staring at your text and holding his phone so tightly that he accidentally pressed the call icon next to your name.

"Hello?" you answered sleepily. It was 3am and you had been asleep.

"H-hello? [y/n]?"

"Yes, Hui, what is it?"

"I uh..."

He desperately tried to think of an excuse for calling you, any reason-

"I wish there was a portal that went directly from my room to yours."

Really, Hui? Was that the best thing you could think of?

His heart raced and he smiled as he heard your laugh on the other end. He didn't realize he'd balled his other hand into a fist until your laughter made him calm down.

"What are you saying, Hui?"

"I miss you..." he mumbled.

Despite being sleepy, his words still made you nervous. Your heart raced and you wondered what he was trying to tell you.

"I m-miss you too," you croaked out.

"Really?" Hui asked you, sitting up in bed.

"Yeah, really," you said, laughing. It wasn't a lie, either. You'd been watching all of his performances on your phone that day while working, almost falling off your bike because you were that invested. In him.

"Do you wanna meet up now?"

"Now?" you spluttered.

"Yeah... by the Han River?"

You paused for a while before answering.

"Let's do it."

Even if I breathe in the cold air / It feels sweet, so sweet

"AHHH IT'S SO COOOOLD!" Hui yelled into the night air, rubbing his arms and running around in circles beside you.

"Here, take my coat," you said, but instead just wrapping your arms around him.

Hui tensed up, wondering if your arm that was wrapped around his chest could feel his heartbeat.

"W-what are you doing?" he asked.

"Providing you with warmth," you said.

You also felt butterflies stirring within you, realizing that maybe you saw Hui as more than just a friend. Yet you shrugged it off, telling yourself that Hui was an idol and you were just a delivery worker.

You can't know my pathetic feelings / Even if I've confessed a hundred times inside my brain / I'm invisible to you

Hui stayed quiet, closing his eyes tightly and enjoying the feeling of being in your arms on this cold night. He knew this embrace wouldn't last and that maybe it wouldn't happen again, because in his mind, he was invisible to you. Just a friend who you goofed around with, but all of your jokes made his heart rush.

The two of you ran around the grassy banks of Han River together, laughing into the night and chasing each other like kids. Each time Hui caught up to you, he'd wrap his small frame around you so tightly that it made you lose your breath. You told yourself it was just because you were running so hard, but it was definitely something else.

As the sun was beginning to rise and the two of you were finally in your homes, trying to get some sleep, Hui imagined what it would be like to confess to you. What if he confessed right there and then when you hugged him by the Han River? What if he told you how much he likes you and... what if you felt the same? What if you cupped his cheeks in your hands and kissed him right there as the river reflected the starlight from the sky...? What if Hui would drop his phone in shock but would kiss you back more passionately?

No, Hui. No.

If I ever want you to feel the same / That must be greedy, that'd probably be a chance to peek into heaven / 'Cause you are angel

There was no way any of that would ever happen. There was no way you would ever like him back, at least for Hui. You were way too good for him, an angel on this planet full of demons and sinners.

Little did he know that you were also squinting at the sun, struggling to get some sleep as you thought of the way Hui would press his face into your chest every time he caught up to you at the Han River as you chased each other for fun. His bright smile and gentle laughter made your heart feel like the Han River itself, gently flowing along but filled with such a refreshing feeling.

After another week of intense Shine promotions, Hui feeling all sorts of emotions as Shine continued to soar while his feelings for you also grew, it became unbearable. The two of you would talk late into the night, whether it was sending texts because Hui was busy working or whether it was phone calls. Hui thought about you every second of every day and always missed you a ton.

Please know that I like you / I just want to be there for the rest of your life

Hui asked you to meet him in his studio one evening, as he knew your work schedule and knew that you were free. You agreed, slightly confused as to how he was making time to meet with you despite being so busy.

"Hui, I'm here!" you sang, opening the door to his studio and finding him sitting there in his chair, looking especially cute as his hair was slightly ruffled and he wore a big, comfy hoodie.

"[y/n], I have to tell you something," he said, with a slightly sad smile.

"Yeah, what is it?"

You grew worried, but decided not to make a fuss over anything just yet.

"So, for some time now.... well, of course we've been good friends, and I don't want this to ruin that if you don't feel the same..."

He sighed mid-sentence.

"Gosh, I don't know why I'm rambling," he said with a laugh.

You instinctively laughed along.

"Well, [y/n]. I like you... a lot. I know it's pathetic for me to feel this way when I don't even deserve you, but-"

"You like me?" you cut him off.

Hui nodded in response, looking slightly red now.

Nervous and absolutely bewildered, you starting laughing to yourself, making Hui worry if he'd said something wrong.

"Hui, I... I like you too, what the hell?! And here I was thinking I was pathetic!"

"You're not pathetic at all!" Hui said, grinning widely and bright red in the face upon hearing your answer to his confession.

Both of you nervously smiled at each other for some time before Hui broke the silence.

"I know... it may be hard to date me... well no, it will be hard to date me since I'm an idol, but I promise I'll give this my everything. It's a given, because of how much I like you and how lucky I am for you to even date me-"

"I never said I was dating you," you joked.

"What?" Hui asked in shock.

"I'm joking! Hui, it's okay. We'll get through these difficulties together, whatever they may be," you said, holding half of his face in your right hand, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

Hui leaned into your touch, closing his eyes.

"You're right," he said, before turning his face and pressing his lips to your hand.

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nalgenewhore · 4 years

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masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Lorcan,” snapped a sharp voice. He groaned into his pillow, screwing his eyes shut at the threat of sunlight.

“What do you want, Maeve,” Lorcan bit out, not in the mood for his aunt’s conniving bullshit this early in the morning. He was here as a favour to his father and nothing, nothing more. “I’m sleeping.”

“It’s almost eleven o’clock and Miss DuBois will be here at noon,” she hissed, trying to rip his duvet away. Lorcan swore and pulled it back, just remembering that Maeve was forcing him to take Remelle DuBois of all people as his date. He turned onto his back and sighed through his nose.

“So? The fucking thing doesn’t even start till one, let me sleep,” he protested, flinging his arm over his eyes. “You lost, Maeve. The title is Elide’s.” Neither missed the fact that he said ‘you’, further confirming that his stake was not as… passionate in his aunt’s cause.

Maeve scoffed dismissively, glaring out the windows into the gardens where workers were setting up for the garden party. The guest list was filled with Terrasen’s elite, all joining to celebrate Elide and Fenrys’ upcoming nuptials. “It’s not over until she puts that damned ring on his finger, the little sneaky bitch.”

“Don’t call her that.” The words escaped him before Lorcan’s brain could catch up with what Maeve was saying. She paused, looking at him curiously. Lorcan rolled his eyes and got out of bed, “I’m going to change now so do you think you could possibly fuck off?” There was no lost love between nephew and aunt.

“We are not finished here.”

“Get out of my room.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Fenrys kicked his feet as Elide sat patiently. Lysandra chastised the man, who was already dressed in a grey suit. His tie and pocket square matched her sage green tea dress. It had flutter sleeves and a modest v-neckline. The dress cinched at the waist before the chiffon skirts fell elegantly to just beneath her knees.

Philippa pinned Elide’s old school, Hollywood curls so they tumbled down one shoulder. She stepped back after applying a light layer of hairspray to ensure it would stay in place during the afternoon. “Now, you’re all ready for the party.”

Elide chuckled. She stood, slipping her hand into Fenrys’ elbow, “You’re a true artist, Philippa.”

“Oh,” the older woman waved her hands, “nonsense. I had a beautiful subject to work with.” Philippa handed her a lace fan, a sage ribbon hanging from it.

“That you did,” Fenrys said, dipping his head to kiss his fiancée’s cheek. He grinned at Elide’s blush when she pushed him away.

“Stop flirting with me.”

“Ugh, I love it when you tell me I’m not allowed to flirt with my betrothed.”

Elide rolled her eyes and turned on her white and strappy heels. She tugged Fenrys along, shouting a ‘thank you’ over her shoulder to Philippa. Fenrys kept her laughing the entire way to the garden with witty jokes and snarky comments. Elide snorted, trying to keep her composure when they turned the corner and ran into her uncle.

“Your Grace,” Fenrys said, bowing. Elide curtsied a bit, murmuring his name.

“Lord Marama, I see you’re still here.”

“Well, yes, sir. I wouldn’t abandon my fiancée three weeks before the wedding,” he answered smoothly, slipping his arm around Elide’s waist and resting a somewhat possessive hand on her hip. She suppressed the shiver, shuddering for all the wrong reasons, even though Elide knew it was all for show.

“Of course you wouldn’t.”

Elide nodded, nudging Fenrys towards the doors, “We’re leaving now, uncle. I hope you enjoy the party.” She grabbed the hand Fenrys had on her hip and pulled him away.

“I doubt it,” Vernon called after the pair as Elide pushed the door open.

Feeling Fenrys stiffen, Elide dug her white painted nails into his hand, “Leave it. He’s a senile old man.” She glanced back at him, staring him down until he nodded, the muscle in his jaw clenching. “Hey.” Elide stopped short, gripping his chin, “Fenrys, I have lived with him my entire life. You have known him for a week and a half. Don’t, for a single second, think you know what is best for me and how I should handle my abuser.” His eyes broke and she softened, “Fen, I know you have a good heart and that you want to protect me and I-I love that. Really. But, please, don’t try to do what only I can do for me.”

He nodded, his full lips quirking up at the corners, “Yes, ma’am.”

Elide clicked her tongue, “Come on, we have a garden party to host.” They walked powerfully to the entrance of the gardens. Before they turned the hedge that would put them in full view of the guests they could hear chatting lively, Elide paused.

“Hey,” Fenrys said, his brows - lightened to match his hair - furrowed, “are you alright?”

“Mm-hmm,” she replied, closing her eyes for a second. “Just need a second. I’m fine.”

The blonde man nodded and slid his hands into his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels as he waited. A few silent moments later, Elide plastered on a cheery smile that he cringed at, “For fuck’s sake, that’s so scary.” He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, pasting on an equally jarring grin, “Ready, honeybunch?”

“Let’s knock ‘em dead, sweetie-pie,” Elide chirped, giggling like she had gone mad. Fenrys held out his elbow again, graciously leading her around the bend.

Someone announced them and they spent what seemed like an eternity smiling, waving, and thanking people for coming. Elide’s cheeks were burning from the strain of her beam when they had finally wrapped up the greetings.

“Drink?”

Turning to the bright voice, Elide sighed in relief to see Lysandra there. Aelin and Rowan were standing a few metres off, speaking to some elderly couple - no doubt royals of some kind. “Yes, gods, please,” she said, taking the champagne from Lysandra's hand. She had the grace to not chug it like she wanted to and sipped politely.

A server passed by with a tray of smoked salmon and cream cheese cracker bites. Elide took one, about to pop it in her mouth when Aelin and Rowan walked over. A flurry of something caught her eye and she peeked around Fenrys and Rowan to see who it was. “Oh, he did not just do that,” Elide cursed, narrowing her slender eyes.

“Who,” Aelin said, turning to track her cousin’s gaze. When she saw Lorcan standing at the entrance, she figured that was the only thing to set her off. But then a pale skinned, pale haired, and pale eyed woman stepped out from the shadow of his broad frame and Aelin went red in the face. “Remelle? He brought Remelle?”

The boys coughed, quick to turn and stare. Lorcan caught their gazes and sent them a pained look, subtly indicating Maeve, who was standing at a table with a smug look on her face. “Oh, well, that makes more sense,” Fenrys muttered, nudging Rowan, who nodded in agreement.

Lysandra frowned, scrolling through her iPad. The woman never went anywhere without it, “Maeve… did not tell me who Lorcan’s date was. And I made sure everyone knew who was not permitted and Miss DuBois is–”

“Lys, please, don’t worry about it,” Aelin assured her dear friend. “It’s not your fault, you’ve done an exceptional job, as usual. It’s just… Maeve being Maeve.” Lysandra nodded, but quickly excused herself. As she left, they all heard her speaking tersely into her earpiece, wanting to know who exactly had been at the entrance when they arrived. All security details were required to know the guestlist.

When Remelle looked their way, Rowan quickly turned away, his skin crawling as he felt her predatory stare burn into the back of his neck. The king consort twined his fingers through the queen’s, tilting his head to the side, “I’m sure there are more stuffy lords we haven’t said hello to yet. Let’s go do that now.”

Aelin nodded, flashing him her signature golden smile, “Of course.” She looked at Elide, who was still glaring at Lorcan, who was smiling back at her. To the untrained eye, it would look like a smirk, but Aelin knew Lorcan a bit better than that. His eyes sparkled with delight and affection.

She glanced at Fenrys, sharing a look with him. Have fun with… that.

He rolled his eyes, shooing her away, “Go, enjoy yourselves, kiss a bunch of old white guy ass for me.”

“Oh, I will, I know it’s your favourite, Fenny,” Aelin quipped. With a flourish, she marched off, pulling a somewhat reluctant Rowan behind her.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Hellas, she looks amazing.

“There’s the little cripple girl,” Remelle said, waving her fingers vaguely.

Lorcan rounded on her, pulling his attention away from Elide, “Excuse me? Don’t say shit like that, what is wrong with you?”

“Oh, testy, aren’t we,” she purred, reaching a slender hand up to tweak something about his hair. He moved, his reaction swifter than her motion. Remelle rolled her icy blue eyes, huffing slightly and looking down at her sharp nails, “Are you still anal about your hair? It’s just hair.”

He didn’t even deign to respond to her, knowing she would never get it through her dense skull. Must be all the bleach damage, Lorcan thought to himself. There was no way someone’s hair could be that white, naturally, at her age. “I need a fucking drink,” he muttered, not bothering to see if Remelle wanted anything before stalking off to the bar.

His aunt was waiting for him there and Lorcan pointedly ignored her as he ordered a whiskey sour. “Lorcan,” she hissed, his name sounding like a curse on her tongue, “why aren’t you with your date?”

“Because she’s an unbearable cunt of a human being,” he grumbled, thanking the bartender and digging out a green twenty for the tip. He had worked shit jobs like serving and knew how stingy the one percent was. “Thanks, man.”

“You’re welcome, sir,” the bartender said, smoothly putting the tip in his pocket and turning to the next guest.

Lorcan took his drink, taking a long sip before addressing his aunt, “Maeve, what do you want?”

Her dark, creepily dark, eyes flashed dangerously, “Boy, get yourself in line. She came here as a favour, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lorcan saluted her sarcastically, his gaze jumping over her head when a vision dressed in gentle green caught it. Elide glared at him, pointing with her closed fan to a path in the hedges. This would be fun. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more pressing matters at hand, auntie.”

He stepped around her, striding through the partygoers to Elide. “And to what do I owe the pleasure for this?”

Elide glared up at him, actually having to tilt her head back to even look him in the eye. It was cute, even if the glare was murderous. Elide turned neatly, walking angrily into the path. Lorcan followed, biting back his smile. “Are you going to murder me, sweetheart?”

No answer. They came to a fork in the road and Elide turned left, leading him to an opening with a bubbling fountain. There, she whirled, “You brought Remelle as your date?!”

“Why, yes. She’s a fine young lady,” he said, delighting in the way he was able to provoke her so easily.

“She’s a heinous bitch,” Elide spat, beginning to pace back and forth.

“Why do you care who I bring as my date?”

She paused, deciding to step onto the stone lip of the fountain. There, now she was almost eye-level with him, “I don’t.”

Lorcan raised his brows, looking at her in disbelief, “Seems that way.”

“Well, you seem to care a lot about my relationship, it’s only fair that I care that much about yours.”

He scoffed, draining his drink and putting the empty glass down on the edge of a bird bath. “Your relationship with Fenrys is no more real than mine with Remelle.”

The fan caught between her hands was gripped so tightly Elide’s knuckles were white. Still, her voice was calm, collected, “Fen told me you were friends. I was surprised.”

He looked at her suspiciously, willing himself not to look at her lips and hold her gaze, “Is there a reason for your surprise?”

“Well, it seems to me that if he were your friend, you would support it. You know,” she shrugged, her smile saccharine sweet, “for his happiness.”

Cool anger flowed through his veins and he didn’t bother thinking before he spat words he might’ve come to regret, “You couldn’t make Fenrys happy if you were married to him for a hundred years. I told you already, he will never love you.” Elide would never love Fenrys either, but Lorcan didn’t bother telling her what she no doubt already knew.

In her eyes shone hurt that was quickly replaced with heated rage. Elide hit his shoulder with her fan, “I loathe you.” Her face was centimetres from his, he could smell the intoxicating scent of her elderberry and cinnamon perfume. The delicate and spiced fragrance had haunted him for weeks now.

“Well, I loathe you,” Lorcan murmured, the tone too low and too enticing for it to be anything but a bedroom voice, "sweetheart."

Elide’s breath hitched and in that moment, Lorcan would’ve done anything she commanded of him to make her do it again and again and again. Her eyes flicked to his lips before dancing back up to his. Neither knew who moved first and neither cared as Elide’s arms slid around his neck and Lorcan’s slipped around her waist.

The kiss was hungry and biting, but a perfect harmony anyways. She tasted like champagne. Lorcan swore he could get drunk off her embrace as Elide nipped his lip, her tongue flicking over the small sting to soothe it.

Lorcan pulled her closer, craving the feelings of her feminine curves and softness against his harsh contours and planes. She sighed delicately, melting into his hold before she realised what they were doing and tried to push herself away.

Only, on the ledge, Elide didn’t have anywhere to go and she fell backwards, not relinquishing her hold on his charcoal suit. Lorcan was pulled into the fountain with her, their clothes and hair instantly sopping wet.

“You kissed me! You- you can’t go around kissing engaged people, Lorcan. Do you have any sense at all,” Elide whispered harshly at him, quickly standing to climb out. He went to stand up, but Elide pushed him back down again, her hands on his chest. “You’re just trying to make me like you so that I won’t marry Fen and you’ll get the throne! You- oh, you’re evil.”

With an indignant huff, Elide Lochan marched off, throwing him one last glare as she turned the corner and disappeared from his sight.

Lorcan was so, so, so fucked.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide kept her head high as she walked back to the palace. She managed to avoid the garden party, but caught Rowan slinking around the bushes, no doubt trying to avoid a certain someone.

“Elide?”

The delicate fabric of her dress clung to her skin and she shivered despite the warm sun. Elide nodded, waving vaguely as she passed him. He scrambled after her. “Ellie, do I want to know what happened?”

“He happened,” she snapped, picking up her pace. A quick glance down told her that her dress was indeed rather transparent. Elide swore, crossing her arms over her chest. Rowan quickly shucked off his suit jacket, draping the large garment over her tiny frame.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Well, it’s not.” Elide closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. All she could think about was the kiss and how she had never felt anything like it. An unwarranted thought of if and when he would kiss her again popped up in her mind. Elide shook her head, desperate to forget about it. “It’s nothing. We just fought again and ended up in the fountain.”

He held in his snort and they arrived at the side doors. Rowan opened it for the woman, letting her pass before he shot a suspicious glance around them and closed it. They didn’t need any more media attention and certainly not with Remelle in the vicinity. “Good thing that Aelin is wrapping the party up now. You can go warm up and hide out in your room.”

Elide flashed him a grateful smile and slinked off to a hidden stairwell. It used to be used solely by servants and the staff, but now it was used by anyone who wanted a discreet escape to the private wings.

Rowan smiled at her as well, keeping the pleasant look on his face until she had disappeared from view. Then, he let it fall, gritting his teeth as he seethed. It seemed that he needed to have another little chat with Lorcan.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“El?” The door of her bedroom burst open and Fenrys appeared, looking concerned. It didn’t fade when his eyes fell on her curled up in a nest of blankets. A cup of tea sat on her nightstand, steam wafting from it. “I just saw Lorcan, are you ok?”

“‘m fine,” she muttered, turning her eyes back to the show she was watching. “Just cold.”

Fenrys smiled, “Mind if I join you?” Elide grinned, scooching over slightly. The dark skinned man made quick work of divesting himself of his shoes, jacket, and tie. He popped a couple buttons open, sighing as he flopped down next to her. “What, I don’t get any blanket?”

Elide rolled her eyes and flipped a few of them back so he could cuddle under them. Fenrys wrapped his arms around her, “You’re freezing, El.”

“I know,” she chattered, her teeth still clicking together. “The chef said she’d make me something warm to eat.” Elide leeched Fenrys’ body heat away, burrowing herself deeper into the mattress. After a few minutes, the warmth made her drowsy and Elide slowly drifted off.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Hello, Rowan. Lovely party that was,” Lorcan replied evenly. He glanced in the mirror. Rowan was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, his jaw set and ticking. “Can I help you with something?”

“What are you doing to her?”

There was no reason for him to say who he was talking about, they were both well aware. “I’m not doing anything to her.”

“You drive her fucking crazy, Lorcan,” Rowan said, moving out of the way when Lorcan stalked out of the toilet.

“And?”

Rowan sighed, shaking his head. “Lorcan. Just- fuck. What is going on with you two?”

“Nothing is going on with me and Elide,” Lorcan answered, pulling on a hoodie. It might’ve even been one of Rowan’s, he wasn’t sure.

“You told me you would never lie to me. Don’t you dare start now.”

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, Lorcan looked up at Rowan, but all he could see was Elide’s face the second before they kissed. “Ro…” He gestured vaguely with his hands, unable to articulate his swirling thoughts. “It’s just what it is. I can’t explain. We’re just- someone is pushing us together, I can’t stop it.” I don’t want to stop it.

“Oh,” Rowan breathed, his stark green eyes wide like saucers. His mouth dropped open and he gaped at Lorcan, blinking once in shock. “Oh. Oh.”

“What,” Lorcan snapped, his hackles rising. He had a premonition that he knew what Rowan was going to say. “Spit it out, bastard.”

“You’re falling for her.”

“No, I am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

Lorcan just fell back on the mattress, looking up at the ceiling. He sighed, his voice completely unconvincing, a little dreamy, even, “No, I am not.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide slinked into the kitchens, smiling thankfully at the chef who passed her a bowl of xaimoko, a Blackbeak rabbit stew. It was her favourite comfort food. She remembered once, when she was young, after being disciplined by her uncle, the old cook, a kind woman, had found her hiding in a corner. She had spoken in Blackbeak to Elide, coaxing her to the kitchen for a nice dinner. Vernon had ordered that she wasn’t to have dinner, but the cook had served her a bowl of rabbit stew and fried cornbread anyway.

Ever since then, the cook, who had retired a couple years after, had made sure every chef in the castle knew how to make it.

Elide ate as slowly as possible. Lysandra had texted her, telling Elide that Aelin wanted to see her after she had eaten dinner. After her nap, Elide had spent her time avoiding Aelin but it had seemed like her luck had run out.

She washed her own dishes, stowing them away in the cupboards. Gaze downcast, Elide made her way to Aelin’s temporary office, just set up for her time in Perranth before she and Rowan returned to Orynth.

Elide knocked reluctantly on the door, wishing Rowan or at least Fenrys were with her. The meeting was only to be with Aelin, though, so she wasn’t hopeful.

“Come in,” the queen called, her voice muffled through the heavy doors.

Elide pushed the door open, softly closing it behind her. Aelin’s face was set, her lips tightening as she folded her hands atop her desk. “Elide. Sit, please.” She glanced at Lysandra who was sitting in the other chair.

She felt like a schoolgirl in trouble with the principal. Elide sunk down in a chair, keeping her gaze down.

“Elide,” Aelin sighed, clearly not happy with her cousin. “What is happening with you?”

Elide shook her head, looking down at her hands, “Nothing.”

“That’s not true.”

She nodded, “Yes it is. Nothing is happening with me.” Elide finally dragged her eyes up to Aelin’s. “I’m fine.”

The blonde sighed, drumming her fingers on the desk, “Elide. I know we aren’t the most traditional country and you have more liberties than most, but you can’t do stuff like this.”

“Stuff like what?” Her voice cracked and her bottom lip trembled. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Elide, you are engaged. You can’t hide in closets with people who are not your betrothed and you cannot climb out of a fountain, dripping wet, with the same person who is not your betrothed!”

“Aelin, why don’t we–”

“No, Lysandra. Elide is not some high school girl, who gets to run around doing whatever she wishes! She is a royal and is expected to act like one.”

Elide flinched, shrinking back at the volume and sharpness, “I’m sorry.” If Aelin had noticed how Elide reacted, she would’ve stopped immediately, but the stress of battling parliament and the media were wearing on her. “I didn’t mean–”

“Yeah, I know, you didn’t mean to.” Aelin’s hands dove into her hair, gripping the strands on either side of her head. She laughed humorlessly, the sound icy and hollow. “I am trying to save your crown, do you get that, Elide?”

Elide stayed silent, willing her body to keep her tears to herself. Unconsciously, she started scratching a nail up and down her forearm, over and over and over until blood was drawn. It was a habit she had picked up as a child and years of therapy hadn’t undone it.

However, Lysandra noticed and she reached over to take Elide’s hand subtly enough so that Aelin didn’t see.

“I’m sorry.”

Aelin looked at her for a moment and glanced away, “Just tighten up, Elide. You can’t afford to be doing things you don’t mean and if you think you can… you might as well give Lorcan the crown already.”

“Can I go now?” Elide asked, her voice trembling. In shock, Aelin’s eyes snapped back to her, as if realising the memories she had resurfaced for Elide. Lysandra held a hand out to Elide, but Elide moved so Lysandra’s touch fell short.

“Ellie–”

Elide stood up abruptly, “If there isn’t anything else you have to say, can I go, your Majesty?”

Aelin nodded meekly and Elide left. The halls were empty and because of it, Elide ran back to her rooms, locking the doors behind her. She managed to keep from letting the tears fall until she was in her bedroom.

Bear looked up at her from her bed as Elide crawled into hers. The dog stared at her for a moment, laying unmoving. Elide wiped her cheeks, chuckling tearfully, “Oh, are you mad at me too?”

Bear just turned her head, tucking her nose beneath her tail.

Elide felt her heart crack in two and cried harder, hiccuping as she buried her face into her pillow. In the darkness of her room, Elide slowly cried until she had exhausted herself into a deep sleep.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: omg !! royal scandal sksksks !!

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @ladyverena @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @minaidss @superspiritfestival @sanakapoor @ireallyshouldsleeprn @spyofthenightcourt @januarystears @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @magicalunicorngypsy @elriel4life @sensitiveillyrian

#knowing me knowing you #kmky chapter eight #princess diaries au #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore #woowwwww would ya look at that. kissing. that's cray cray !

93 notes · View notes

kieranfm · 3 years

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𝟏𝟏𝐏𝐌 , 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 , 𝐁𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍 ; 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 ›› 𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐍 + 𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍

it was one of their bigger shows of the tour ; 1,200 people , 19,589 off of selling out madison square garden . so why didn’t it feel like it ? usually there was a high crackling in his veins , alighting him from the inside out , as he left behind the screaming of a crowd that wanted more . but kieran had felt more when they’d stepped off stage after playing to 520 , or even 200 , than he did coming off stage of the royale tonight . he couldn’t put his finger on it . the reason WHY it felt like he hadn’t just done what he did every other night before . the reason WHY the high wasn’t quite so bright . the reason WHY he’d caught the same look from mikey ; as he’d wished him good luck , & conan ; as they’d caught eyes during the opening notes of cheer up baby . the same look he knew all too well ; as if they were waiting for him to tip over an edge he hadn’t walked the line of in MONTHS . . . everything was good . wasn’t it ? a smile pushed its way onto his lips as his feet hit solid ground & one crowd turned into another smaller one , full of congratulations for surviving ANOTHER show . but just like the congratulations was like clockwork , kieran still found himself looking for the one person that had been missing from the start . the one person that only came in the form of words lit up on his screen . words that seemed to come few & far between — or at all more recently . maybe that was why everything felt OFF ; there had been no ‘ knock ‘em dead , baby ’ to send him out on stage with & he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone on without it . hell , he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d gone this long without a WORD from her . but with ruairi’s hands falling heavily upon his shoulders , & an airy voice that put him on edge filled the air , he let himself be pulled along in the tide . clinging onto the quiet embers that popped & crackled away in his veins as the high fought its way through the haze of worry . she was busy . that’s all it was .

so why did it feel like something was wrong ?

it was enviable though . the way in which kieran ALWAYS found his way back to evan , because even when a whole ocean separated them he always found her way back to her . the only thing was , it seemed as if evan wasn’t finding her way back to him . because as the noise of the dressing room died away , people going their seperate ways to either begin the pack up for a day on the road tomorrow or to take their celebrations elsewhere , he’d slipped his phone from the pocket of his jacket . the cool surface settling in his palm as the glow of his screen reflected back the same thing it had done earlier when he’d given up waiting & tucked it away for safe keeping ; NOTHING . there was absolutely nothing . his top teeth gnawed at his bottom lip as he pulled up the bottom of his screen in hopes that it would reveal anything other than his own texts :

21/07/21 8:43pm 📲 i can only assume you didn’t pick up my call earlier bc you were too busy making saint valentine fall in love with you 📲 but it’s nearly 2am for you and i , personally , think it’s rude i haven’t heard ANYTHING about how it went yet

22/07/21 4:02am 📲 alright you 📲 it’s 9am there and i woke up to nothing 📲 i’m calling you the minute i finish this morning radio shit

22/07/21 9:05am 📲 i’m the one that’s mean to be the gd enigma , evan

22/07/21 10:00am 📲 well , call me whenever you’re free bc i would like to know if saint valentine swiped our best photographer from us

23/07/21 3:02pm 📲 we just wrapped soundcheck for the day and we go on at 9:15 tonight 📲 so i can talk if you’re free

23/07/21 3:43pm 📲 the lads said they haven’t heard anything from you either 📲 is everything okay ? 📲 has something happened ?

what the HELL was going on ? surely if something had happened to her eloise , or isla , would have called him . . . no — no , she was busy ; caught up in editing photos for saint valentine . he’d seen how focused she could get on her work sometimes & with him not there to pull away physically the time could EASILY get away from her . but that did nothing to settle the cloud that dampened the glowing embers that were a sad excuse from his post-show high . the bottom of his phone tapped against his palm as his eyes lifted to focus upon the wall above the wooden clothes rack his jacket hung on . it didn’t make sense though . . . she’d been shooting for saint valentine . she would have called after that . she SHOULD have called after that . where the hell was she ? “ you okay ? ” conan’s voice forced his eyes to refocus , bringing him back down to reality , & turn his attention towards him . silence passed between them for a split second as kieran tried to place the look hidden within conan’s features . they’d been friends all their lives . he wasn’t imagining the smothered worry hidden within his eyes , “ what do you know ? ” “ what ? ” he lifted his phone towards conan , “ evan — ” & there it was , the flicker of worry break through the cracks . it was all he needed . “ i asked you earlier if you’d heard from her . ” “ i haven’t . ” “ but you know why she’s not answering me , don’t you ? ” “ guys — yo , what t’e fuck’s going on — ” but kieran ignored ruairi as he watched conan’s jaw work from side to side , “ what the fuck aren’t you telling me , conan ? ” but it was mikey’s voice that answered him & kieran’s eyes snapped instantly towards him , “ it’s not his fault , kid . i told him not to say anything until after the show . ” kieran’s gaze flickered towards conan for a moment , noting the apologetic look in his eye , before he looked back at mikey . “ i , we , needed you out there with a clear mind . ” “ why wouldn’t my mind be clear ? ” mikey’s hand lifted to rub at his jaw before he pointed towards the couch in the middle of the room , “ come sit down . i have something to show you . ”

the nausea had set in the minute he’d taken a step towards the couch . but the minute mikey had handed him the article brought up on his ipad & begun to explain , kieran felt SICK . his fingers curled around the edges of the ipad tight enough to press harshly into his flesh . no — NO . this wasn’t happening . it made NO fucking sense . Bex & The Found’s Kieran Walsh Confirm Rumors are True . . . speculated to be growing intimately closer . . . make it known outside of their inner circle . he couldn’t stop reading it . he couldn’t stop starring at the photos . hoping that any moment one of them would yell gotcha or the article would simply vanished . but no matter how hard he tried or how long he waited , nothing changed . the words were still there , plain as day & painting him as a liar . the photos were still there , plain as day & painting him as an ASSHOLE . this couldn’t be happening . “ why didn’t you tell me . ” his voice was low , dangerously so . “ we needed you to have a — ” “ a clear fucking head , i know . but T’IS — ” he tossed the ipad onto the table between them as dark eyed focused on mikey , “ you should have fucking told me as soon as you found out . ” “ jani only called me this morning .” “ it’s been out for T’REE fucking days , mikey . ” his hands jutted out towards the discarded ipad , “ what t’e FUCK has she been doing for t’ree days t’en ? she’s our fucking pr manager isn’t she ? isn’t it her job to look out for shit like t’is ? ” “ kieran — ” conan’s voice broke through the haze & his fingers curled into a fist as he turned towards him , “ what ? ” “ take a breath . ” kieran’s gaze darted frantically over conan’s features . but as conan held his gaze , the anger within him teetered & his breath hitched in his chest . evan had to know this was all bullshit . she HAD to . . . but the timing of it all was too much to gloss over . the photo had come out on the 21st & he hadn’t heard a SINGLE thing from her since . she wasn’t just busy . she believed it . his voice cracked as he spoke , “ this is evan . ” “ we know . ” it was then he took a look around at the four that sat along side him . features sharpened by anger softening as he dragged in a deep , shaky breath , “ t’is is all bullshit . ” but as ruairi’s features broke from a second kieran’s brow arched , “ is it ? ” “ i’m sorry ? ” “ well — i just mean , DID somet’ing happen between you two ? ” he froze for a moment . processing ruairi’s words & trying to figure out if he’d heard them right . but before he could even form a reply , a pillow was thrown directly into ruairi’s face with a heavy thump from conan’s direction . “ what kind of fucking question is t’a , mate ? ” “ okay , okay — stupid question . ” ruairi fumbled with the pillow down as he brought it down his lap , kieran rolling his eyes as he let out a breath & bring a hand to rub at his forehead . if it was ANYONE else , it would have be the last straw . but as ruairi’s gaze darting between four faces that looked at him expectantly , kieran couldn’t be mad as he explained “ but look . i told you i t’ought she seemed t’ be weaselling in a lot of places that are usually made for evan & she seemed to cling onto you so — i t’ought since no one seemed to WANT to ask it , i'd ask it . just t’ be sure . ”kieran’s hand dropped to his lap as he shook his head , exhaling a breath , “ i’m not cheating on evan wit’ bex . ” he paused for a moment as his fingers linked together , eyes darting towards the screen of mikey’s ipad , “ you all were t’ere . we were taking her back t’ t’e bloody hotel because she was DRUNK . ” his gaze were frantic once more as they darted between conan , ruairi & , adam , before settling on mikey , “ we know , kid . but we’re not the ones you need to be telling that to right now . ” he was right . it had been THREE days since this had dropped & all he’d said to evan was things about her god damn saint valentine job . he’d kept the whole walking out of the interview from her to stop her from freaking out over rumours of him being with bex . but now here it was plastered across a website for all to see . he didn’t want to think what was going on in her head . “ yeah , yeah , you’re right . ” his hands were shaky as he reached for his phone jean pockets , so much so that it took a few attempts to be able to press her name on his list of recent calls before he brought it to her ear . one ring , two rings , three rings , four rings . . . voice message . he pulled the phone from his ear & hung up . “ fuck . ” “ it’s early in the morning t’ere , right ? she’s probably asleep . ” adam , always the voice of reason . “ fuck t’at . she can wake up . ” ruairi , an idiot but the most inline with the thoughts in his own mind . she did make him promise to call no matter the time . “ try again . ”& he did as took in a breath as he pressed her contact again , lighting his phone up before he brought it to his ear . & he tried again & again & again . he tried until finally , the line on the other end broke . he sat up straighter , forcing everyone around him to tense . nothing . no voice message . he took the phone away from his ear for a moment to see the time ticking over . “ what’s going — ” but kieran waved ruairi away as he brought the phone back to his ear . hesitating for one more second before he finally spoke , “ evan ? ” another pause , “ don’t hang up . please . ” he shifted to the edge of the couch , “ i can explain everyt’ing . ”

#𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 / kieran + evan .

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pressedinthepages · 3 years

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Family Business

Chapter 3: Date Night

A/N: Whoops, our hands slipped. Myself and Margaret (@sometimesiwrite) have completed another chapter about these two silly boys! In this episode, Eskel sees a new side to Julian, and they finally are able to go on their first real date. But will all go as planned? Only time will tell.

also, I, Erica, will not apologize for making Lambert extra sexy.

Warnings: discussion of past death of a loved one, super soft flirting, loss, mourning, brief mention of religious-based homophobia, slightly NSFW texting (nothing explicit), unnamed character being an ass to a hostess, maybe...another k*ss?

Previous chapter: Here! Erica’s Masterlist: Here! Margot’s Masterlist: Here!

ENJOY!

Eskel’s phone vibrated in his pocket as he passed a latte to the last customer of the breakfast rush. It was 10:24. Perfect. Plenty of time to clean up, check the espresso, and… take a look at the notification he knew was waiting for him on his lock screen. He checked around as he rinsed the cloth for the steaming wand and wiped the countertops. Geralt was sipping away at a glass of ginger-apple-kale juice (typical), and Lambert was busy cleaning off the panini press, apparently hellbent on breathing in as much of the cheesy bread fumes as possible (he always did love the smell of a grill top). No new customers. All clear. Eskel pulled out his phone and saw a text notification—Julian.

Still up for helping out? I am...stressing.

Eskel smiled at his phone screen and thumbed in his passcode. I’ll see what I can do, but as you know, Lambert had to dress me yesterday so… you have fair warning.

Three little dots floated on the screen. Julian was typing. Eskel glanced around to make sure no one was waiting for help and that Lambert was minding his fucking business.

Ok, option one:

And then, an actual photograph of Julian sitting in front of his mirror wearing a tastefully loud dress shirt—black with white vines and flowers. As Eskel examined the photo more closely, he realized that the young man was also wearing a… a well-fitting pair of dark boxer briefs. Thankfully, the hand not holding the phone was resting in his lap and obscuring anything salacious. Eskel blushed bright red and immediately lowered his phone. He breathed out slowly. Okay. Okay! This is… this is okay. This is a normal adult thing to do. Eskel’s mouth was very dry as his phone pinged again. There was no reason to be feeling embarrassed or… Then again, maybe he hadn’t meant anything by it. After all, Julian was younger, less inhibited, had fewer hangups about modesty. And even if he did mean to be an absolute scoundrel, this was… healthy. Yeah. Healthy. Eskel arrived at the conclusion that, at the very least, Julian trusted him, and he clung to that as he opened his phone back up, desperately wishing he wasn’t at work.

And option two:

Now Julian had on a pair of pants, thank Christ. But Eskel couldn’t help but laugh. They were bright red corduroy bell-bottoms and potentially the most atrocious things he’d ever laid eyes on, even with his self-reported lack of fashion sense. Julian was also sporting a navy vest. But this was no ordinary, everyday, run-of-the-mill kind of vest: it was decorated with large jewel-tone flowers emulating stained glass, and covered so much of the base colour it was barely visible. What was perfectly visible was Julian’s bare torso underneath. Arms, shoulders, and the top of his chest were on full display, while a coquettish tilt of his head gracefully extended his neck. Jesus. Eskel could just make out the crease and dimple of a grin on the side of Julian’s face in the mirror as he turned his head away. You cheeky little bastard.

Eskel’s fingers hovered over the keypad for a moment before settling on a reply. He didn’t want to encourage him too much and risk an… awkward situation at work. On the other hand, he still deserved a little credit for boldness. Well, those are two very different options Julian.

Julian’s reply was almost instant. I CAN HEAR YOUR JUDGEMENT FROM HERE.

Eskel chuckled, Only of your fashion choices, I assure you ;)

Meanwhile, across town, Julian gaped at his phone in amused surprise. He...that bastard winked at me...good. Julian looked over the piles of sequins, florals, polyester, and lycra he’d stripped out of his closet, feeling quite pleased with himself. His eyes tracked to the one chair in his bedroom on which he’d carefully draped his already-ironed outfit for that evening. (Oh come on, give me some credit. I’m not completely helpless. I know how to dress for a date).

Julian shucked off the pants, a favorite, and let the vest fall to the floor. He carefully pulled out a pair of bright, sparkly golden boots and zipped them up to his knees before striding back to the mirror. He snapped a quick picture, cropping it to show just enough and still be considerate of the recipient. His phone shwooped it back to Eskel, and Julian worried his bottom lip while he waited for a reply. Had it been too much?

Eskel’s phone buzzed in his pocket as he handed a coffee and a muffin to a customer. He reticently reached into his pocket. How far was he going to take this? His heart beat a little faster as he opened his phone to reveal the photo. “Yup okay, that’s…” He closed his phone and leaned heavily on the counter, exhaling a little too intentionally.

“Mouth a little dry?” Geralt was beside him holding a glass of water with a slice of cucumber happily floating inside.

“I—what? No, I’m…”

“Texting with the Boy? Just drink the damn water and try to keep it cool.”

“Yeah, that’s great advice, Geralt, thank you.” He drained the water in a few gulps and heavily set the glass back on the steel counter, “Jesus.”

Geralt said nothing, but took the glass away, giving his brother an encouraging pat on the back. His amused laughter was audible, though, as he grabbed his iPad for inventory.

Eskel took a deep breath and opened his phone again: Perfect. You’ll fit right in.

Eskel sighed as the bell on the door chimed three times in quick succession, a line already forming as his new customers looked over the cold case. Right on time. His phone vibrated once more in his pocket while he started taking orders, and he stepped over to the espresso machine as Lambert took over the register.

***

Julian ran his hand through his hair, letting it flop artfully back down as he gave himself one last once-over. He had on a dark pair of jeans which he’d rolled up just high enough to show a peek of his bright fuschia socks, which somehow didn’t class with his red Doc Marten brogues. The shirt he’d actually chosen to wear was navy blue with red, fuschia, and turquoise plaid accents on the inside of the cuffs and collar, pearlescent buttons glinting down the front. He’d arranged his sleeves carefully for an optimal pop of colour, and he’d left just enough buttons open to be both casual and flattering—showing off a hint of chest hair and clavicle—while still being subtle.

Julian’s phone let out a muffled ding from...somewhere in the room. “Shit, where’d I put my…” He hadn’t heard back from Eskel all afternoon. He probably got busy, he told himself, but a part of him still couldn’t help but worry he’d pushed too far too soon. In his joyful impulsiveness, he’d lost track of the fact that they hadn’t really talked about anything—boundaries, preferences, that kind of thing. It made sense that they hadn’t, they’d only just had their first date (kind of). But after the fiasco of the previous night, he’d wanted Eskel to feel wanted, appreciated.

He eventually did find his phone, tucked just barely under the edge of his bed after a somewhat frantic shaky-handed scramble. How it ended up there, he’d never know. A text from Eskel blinked at him from the screen and Julian’s lips turned up in a soft smile as he unlocked his phone with a cold thumb.

Sorry for the late reply, had a bit of a busy day. Just finishing getting ready, can’t wait to see you :)

Julian held his phone to his chest and sighed, happy and relieved, turning to the mirror propped up against his closet door. “Okay, Jules. You can do this. He likes you. He kissed you. He was flirting with you this morning, and you did not scare him off. It’s just dinner. Everything’s gonna be great. It’s gonna be lovely food, and...wait, where are we going again?”

Right on time, his phone dinged again. Here’s the address for the restaurant. Should be about a fifteen minute walk from your place.

Great, thanks. See you soon :) Julian looked at his watch. Shit. “Okay. Time to go.” He paused with his hand on his doorknob, “Uhh, phone, wallet, keys… do I need a jacket? What temperature is it?” It was an awkward temperature. Jacket would be too warm. No jacket would be too cold. “Oh my God, fine, I’ll carry it.” With that, he locked the door behind him and clattered his way down the musty, worn stairs of his walkup and out onto the sidewalk.

Eskel nervously loosened his tie a little, not wanting to look too rigid, and adjusted his sleeves. “Okay. Okay, okay, okay. It’s just dinner. He likes you… Jesus, he better like me after all that.” He gave his hair a final mist of salt spray (he may have been out of touch with fashion, but the one thing he would always pride himself on was his hair). His mind wandered back to their kiss the previous night and felt a thrill tingle through him. It had been so unexpected and so… was heartfelt the right word? It had been passionate, but not just in a sexy way—though it had been that, too. Eskel was discovering that Julian was proving himself capable of a great amount of emotional depth as well as unbelievable cheek, and he was genuinely looking forward to seeing him again.

He glanced at his watch. Here’s the address for the restaurant. Should be about fifteen minutes from your place, he typed hastily, wanting to give Julian a grace period in case he really was struggling to figure out what to wear—though Eskel had strong suspicions that he already knew full well what he was planning on wearing and that the morning’s texts had been for his sake alone.

Eskel carefully pulled the tan jacket over his shoulders and peered around his living room in case he’d forgotten anything. His eyes landed on the framed photo above the fireplace. He took a tentative step forward, “Hey, Jo. You’re still lookin’ real good, you know that?” He took a few steps closer, and modeled his outfit. “Not bad, right? I’m, uh, listen, I’m going on a date tonight. I’ve met someone.”

He leaned against the mantle, hands resting on either side of the recently-dusted frame, a melancholy settling over him as he looked at the familiar face. He shok himself out of it, “I think you’d like him. A lot, actually. He’s, well he’s a lot of things, but he’s…he cares. And I think he could make me happy if I play my cards right.” He smiled, “Thought you’d want to know.” He glanced at his watch, “Alright. Wish me luck.”

He gave a loving wink to the photograph and turned to the door, feeling for his keys in his pocket before letting it lock behind him.

The breeze blew gently through his hair as he waited for Julian outside the restaurant, going over the list of Fun Things To Ask On A First Date in an article he had pulled up on his phone. It was a cool evening, but it was clear that winter had more or less had its last laugh: the crocuses were starting to come up in the planters on the sidewalk, and the air had that sweet smell that only came with warmer weather. A beam of sunshine illuminated the sidewalk and passersby as Eskel kept an eye out for his date. He wasn’t waiting long, though, and smiled wide as he caught a glimpse of well-coiffed chestnut hair and a flash of bright blue coming towards him.

Eskel greeted him with a kiss on each cheek, but he was quickly pulled into a firm hug. Julian pulled back so his blue eyes could give Eskel a proper once-over.“You look unbearably handsome, Eskel, how dare you.”

“Julian, you look very nice. Can’t help but notice you’ve worn, let’s see, none of the options you tormented me with this morning.”

“Are you disappointed?” Julian asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Nope,” Eskel replied simply, opening the door and letting his date enter first.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” Julian cooed as he brushed past catching a whiff of mellow cologne—smokey and sweet with hints of cedar and maple. They were greeted by a young woman at the host stand who smiled gently at the two of them.

“Hey, Jess” Eskel smiled in return, carefully placing his hand at the small of Julian’s back.

“Eskel! It’s been a while since you’ve stopped in, I guess the cafe’s keeping you three pretty busy. I’m so glad it’s doing well!” Julian glanced back and forth between the two of them as the gears finally clicked into place. Jess led them to their table, tucked away in a private corner, and Julian slunk into the booth as she walked away.

“You didn’t tell me that this was your dad’s restaurant!?!?!” Julian hissed lightheartedly.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want you to think my whole family would be watching us,” Eskel cheeked as he filled Julian’s water glass from the carafe on the table, and was met with a quizzical look. “In all honesty, it’s one of the few places I can always get a table on short notice this late in the week. Besides, it’s comfortable.”

A few more gears clicked. Of course. This was a public place where he not only knew the staff, but also knew the space like it was his home: he’d worked the bar, served guests, hosted… He felt a sense of ownership and belonging. It didn’t matter whether people stared and whispered, because he knew the placement of every single piece of glassware and cutlery, and they didn’t. The restaurant itself was like family to him.

Julian nodded understandingly, and grinned as their server approached the table. He was tall, with honeyed skin and dark wavy hair, startlingly green eyes, and an impeccably-groomed goatee. “Hello there, can I interest either of you in any drinks to start off?”

They each ordered a glass of red wine and Eskel sat back, quietly observing his companion. Julian’s sea-blue eyes were flicking back and forth over the menu before him, his brow furrowed at the sheer number of different options, some of which contained ingredients printed in Italian.

“Can I make a recommendation?” Eskel cocked his head with a smirk.

Julian pursed his lips for a moment, glancing up at his date before gluing his eyes back to the menu. “Yes. I am terribly out of my depth.”

“I said the same thing to Lambert last night. Listen, why don’t I order for us, and we can both relax a little?”

Julian’s eyes swept over the menu one last time, “Please, God, yes.”

“Anything you don’t like, aside from spicy?” Eskel asked, taking Julian’s menu from his helpless hands.

“Not a huge fan of alfredos.”

“Well, that’s fine, we’re both drinking red and that doesn’t pair with cream sauce, I wouldn’t allow it, anyway,” he answered back. It was an offhanded comment, but Julian caught the radiant heat off Eskel’s flare of confidence as the restaurateur casually glanced over the menu. This was a different Eskel, completely in his element with absolutely no doubt in his mind that he was correct about every decision he was about to make. Julian wanted to jump across the booth and pick up where they’d left off the night before. Instead, he sipped his wine, savouring the palette as it tingled the back of his throat and warmed his stomach.

“You’re very sexy when you talk about wine pairings.”

Julian watched a pretty pink flush spill up Eskel’s chest and neck, just barely tinging his cheeks. Their server had impeccable timing, choosing that exact moment to make a beeline to their table. “And how are we doing over here? Ready to order?”

He may have been briefly flustered by Julian’s comment, but Eskel’s tone immediately shifted into that of a professional in his home environment, “We’ll start with the carpaccio with the truffle oil, please, and then I’ll have the penne calabrese, and he’ll do the spaghetti carbonara. And could we get a bread basket before the starter, please?”

“Of course. All delicious choices, I’ll get everything started for you.” Their server left them once again, and Eskel felt Julian’s fingers brush over the back of his hand.

“I don’t know how to explain this,” Julian murmured, barely loud enough for Eskel to hear, “but that was incredibly attractive.”

“What, ordering food?” Eskel laughed but didn’t move his hand away. Instead he let himself relax into Julian’s touch.

“Well, yes, but there was more to it.” The musician’s slender fingers gracefully coasted over the landscape of knuckles and veins—accentuated by years of pouring neatly from full bottles and carafes, and carrying water glasses and full plates. “It was your demeanour; the way you held yourself, looked out of your eyes, it all shifted a little. It was subtle, but it’s… sexy.”

Eskel smirked and leaned back in his seat, letting Julian’s fingers lazily fiddle with his, “Really?”

“Yes, really. It’s—you’re confident and in your element. You’re highly skilled.” Julian paused for a moment, scanning this new Eskel in his natural habitat, “You could take over and serve this entire restaurant if you needed to. Couldn’t you?”

“Easily,” Eskel answered, his brow set in easy certainty. His expression quickly softened into an easier smile, and he gave his date a little wink. “But don’t tell the—”

“So sorry to interrupt,” their server had glided his way over to the table with surprising stealth, “but the chef was wondering if he could have a word with you, Eskel.”

Eskel sighed, clearly having wanted to avoid playing Backup Owner for the night, “What, about the order? Or is it something else?”

Their server shook his head, his dark locks shaking over his forehead, “He wouldn’t say, just asked me to bring you back to him for a moment.”

Eskel deflated, looking conflictedly back to Julian. It was part of his life, being in the restaurant business meant being on-call almost any time during business hours for any number of things. Still, if this date was going anywhere meaningful, he didn’t want to start their entire relationship by abandoning him to tend to a work crisis. Julian reluctantly let his fingers drift away from Eskel’s hand, “Go on, I’ll be fine here, it sounds important. Just don’t get roped into working in the kitchen?”

“I may be a workaholic, but I’ve never once abandoned a date at the table. Back in a sec.” Eskel heaved himself out of the booth and followed the waiter around the dining room and through the doors to the kitchen, fully ready to step into his Owner’s Son Who Used To Work Here shoes.

However, it wasn’t the head chef waiting for him. It was… the owner’s son who used to work there.

“Hey! How’s it going out there?”

“Lambert. What are you doing here?”

“Well, you never let me wear my chef’s coat at the cafe, so-”

“Sorry, let me try again: what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Okay, okay, fine, I’m here to spy on your date. Happy?”

“Of course not!”

“You’re both looking good tonight. I mean his shirt? Bold, makes a statement, mature-yet-playful—although I have some questions about his taste in footwear. But hey-hey-hey, is he holding your hand? It looks like it, but I can’t see the wall side of the booth from the pass—”

“Lambert…” Eskel could have sworn he felt his hair actually bristling, “I cannot fucking believe you—that you would have the-the the audacity to think it would be appropriate to just—I mean, on a Thursday. How many people’s schedules did you have to mess up in order to work tonight?! Do you even remember how to be back here?”

“Please, I’m a professional. Like riding a bike.”

A metal spoon fell to the floor with a loud clatter and Eskel took a long, deep breath, “Listen, we’ll talk about this later—and believe me, we will talk about this later—but right now I have a very handsome, very thoughtful, very patient date (who does, in fact, have very soft hands), waiting for me in the dining room.”

“Okay, okay, go, I’ll text you later. But hey, hey, listen: you’re doing great, big guy. Really great. Love the menu for tonight. And the wine pairing? Ballsy to order the wine first but, damn, when you know, you know.”

“Thanks, Bert.”

“Go get ‘im, tiger!”

“Unbelievable,” Eskel muttered as he went towards the kitchen door. “Corner!”

Eskel strode back to their table, and found Julian looking intently at something in front of him, chewing on a slice of bread from the basket that now sat on the edge of the table. As Eskel got closer, he saw it was a phone, and immediately felt the lack of weight in his own pocket.

As if sensing him, Julian looked up, his eyes sparkling under the comfortable lighting in the booth. “W-pray tell, my chivalrous date,” he murmured as Eskel came to a hesitant stop at the edge of their seats, “why do you have a list of Fun Things To Ask On A Date?”

Eskel slowly, carefully slid into his seat across from Julian, feeling the tips of his ears starting to burn. “I-uh...found the article earlier...a-and, well, like you, I was feeling a little nervous... here, you know what, we can just forget you ever saw tha-”

He reached for his phone, but it was quickly held out of reach, “Oh, nononononono, we are so doing this,” Julian smiled wickedly, his chestnut hair flopping as his head bobbed with glee. Eskel dragged his hands up his cheeks and rubbed his eyes dejectedly, glancing around to see if any of their fellow restaurant goers could help free him from the private hell that was going to be the next twenty minutes.

“Question One: What’s one thing you want to ask me but you’re too nervous to?’ Ooooh starting dramatically,” Julian twinkled his fingers for punctuation.

“Oh God, do we really have to—”

“Oh yes. We do. Come on,” Julian waved him on in encouragement, “no wrong answers, I promise. Only a bit of fun.”

Eskel groaned, leaned back in his seat, and folded his hands in his lap. “Alright, fine. How old are you?”

“Twenty-six,” Julian answered without hesitation. “How old are you?”

Eskel grimaced, “Forty-two.”

“And yet you don’t look a day over thirty.”

“Hey, I work in customer service, I know a placation when I see it,” Eskel smirked playfully. “Let’s—can we move on to the next one?”

Julian grinned sympathetically, turning back to the screen. “Question 2: zodiac sign?”

“Hmm, late February, that’s Pisces, right?”

Julian smiled and nodded, “Indeed. I’m a Taurus. Stubborn-yet-endearing, thank you very much.”

“I don’t know all that much about star signs. What does all this mean?”

“Well, it means we’re compatible, in theory. Pisces are generally loyal, empathetic, intuitive, private… Taurus tends to be stubborn, patient—can be a little possessive, but I’m working on that. According to one horoscope, I apparently ‘dislike synthetic fabrics’ which is patently false as previously demonstrated by the contents of my closet.”

“Yes, and thank you for that, by the way. It was worth almost having a heart attack at work.”

Julian winked as he scrolled along down the list. “Glad you enjoyed that, because I know I certainly did. Now, what’s your lOvE lAnGuAgE?”

Eskel frowned, “What’s a ‘love language?’”

“Oh, it’s how you show and accept love. Here,” he opened the quiz on a new tab, “You can do it while I’m in the restroom.”

Eskel gratefully accepted his phone back and watched Julian meander his way to the men’s room. He breezed through the quiz questions, thinking he may as well be with his niece at a slumber party and wondering whether they were going to be playing Never Have I Ever next.

“Physical Touch, apparently,” he answered, pocketing his phone as Julian slid back into the booth.

“Well, we’re proving very compatible this evening. I’m the same. With some gifting thrown in from time to time. Where’d you put the phone?”

“You mean my phone? In my pocket.”

“Well, give it, I want to keep asking you questions!”

Eskel leaned his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand, “No, I don’t think I will. Later. I want us to enjoy ourselves. Actually enjoy ourselves. And the carpaccio will be up soon.” As irritated as he was with his younger brother having commandeered the kitchen, he was looking forward to the promise of an impeccable dinner. He was feeling more relaxed now, largely thanks to the joyful enthusiasm of his date, but he didn’t want to rely solely on the dubious contents of a Cosmo quiz to make a meaningful connection. Julian let himself get lost in the freckled honey-nut-hazel and the secret sadness tucked behind them. Eskel, too, took the opportunity to look, really look, at Julian’s almost-too-blue and the subtle edge hiding amongst the kindness and charisma. And so they just...looked at each other for a moment. No pretense, no joking. Taking each other in.

Julian startled at the sudden sensation, but smiled as he realized Eskel had taken his hand. He’d broken their eye contact to make sure he didn’t knock anything over in the process, but now that he’d found his bearings, the cafe owner looked back across the table to his date, “You know, I… want this to work.”

The young musician’s eyes grew big and his cheeks flushed hot with the sudden outpouring of sincerity. He already cared about Eskel more than he thought he should after so short a time, and it was both a shock and a relief to know that Eskel might be experiencing the same thing. “W—I—”

“I know that it’s early. And I know there’s a lot we still don’t know about each other. And a lot that we’ll need to figure out, and maybe we won’t be what the other needs and that’s fine. We can always go our separate ways. But I want you to know that I’m… taking this seriously.”

Julian tried to put words together, but was cut off by the re-return of their overly-handsome waiter. A large plate of thinly-sliced raw beef tenderloin was presented, prompting an abrupt release of their hands. Eskel thanked the waiter, and Julian’s stomach rumbled as he scrambled a bit to close the gap in their conversation. But what could he say to that?

He intercepted Eskel’s hand on its way to a slice of bread, “Thank you. Really. I’m taking this seriously, too. I mean that.”

Eskel gave a small sideways smile, “Let’s eat.”

Julian carefully took a portion of the carpaccio, set it on his own little plate and took a bite, and oh god the most delightfully combination of flavours and textures met his tongue. They ate contentedly, not sharing many words, but also finding it hard to look away from each other. What an excellent evening. The food was exceptional, the wine was warm and bold—hell, the whole week had been so pleasantly unexpected that they both settled into a kind of trance.

After a few minutes and with not much appetizer left, Eskel topped off their water glasses. “Alright then, my turn,” he said, dusting his hands free of bread crumbs and wiping his mouth on his napkin.

Julian blinked and swallowed abruptly. “For…?”

“Picking the questions,” Eskel pulled his phone back out and kept it well within his grasp. “Come on, there are actually some good ones in here, believe it or not.”

Julian nodded and shrugged, “Ask away.”

Eskel cleared his throat as he scrolled through the list, finally settling on his three questions. He learned that Julian worked days at an artisanal candy shop in town where he was in charge of making marshmallow animals, which he clearly enjoyed as well as having the skill and patience to do. The next question revealed that Julian had an irrational hatred of polenta, and Eskel despised parsnip, citing that they “taste like carrots wearing perfume.” The final question turned the conversation to their childhoods which proved a little more serious. Julian, it turned out, had grown up in a small, predominantly Christian town. Needless to say, his well-meaning, churchgoing parents had had a difficult time adjusting to the fact that their one and only precious little angel was, in fact, undeniably homosexual.

Eskel’s phone found its place in his pocket once more while he collected his thoughts. “I’m sorry if that brought up any—”

“No no, it’s fine! It’s a part of my life, it made me who I am now.” Julian gently set his now-empty plate aside.

“Do you, uhm, are you still in touch?”

“With my parents, you mean? Yes. We had a bit of a rocky start when I came out, but once I shipped off to university and they had some time to think a little, we started over. It’s—they try. They don’t always get it right, but they try.”

“Could be worse, I suppose. Still...”

“Family’s what we make. Sometimes we’re born with family, and sometimes we find it. Sometimes it’s a bit of both. We’ve all come a long way in the last few years.”

“That’s good to hear, I’m happy that they’re able to be supportive.”

Julian nodded, stroking his thumb over the back of Eskel’s knuckles. “Enough of my sob story, your turn. Best part of your childhood.”

“Well, once we got old enough that Lambert wasn’t ‘the baby’ anymore, we started running around causing havoc. Of course, I always tried to keep the peace, but my brothers are fucking maniacs. It’s not that I never got into any mischief myself, I was always just...better at not getting caught. I don’t think that either of them know the definition of the word ‘subtle.’”

“No, not from what I’ve gathered,” Julian smirked as he cast a quick glance at the kitchen doors. Eskel followed his gaze and caught a hint of Lambert’s hair ducking out of view and he shook his head.

“Truly? He is the bane of my existence. I love him to death, but he may end up in the fucking wall tonight,” Eskel sighed, rubbing his weary face as Julian laughed brightly.

Their server came around with their main course, and refilled their wine glasses before leaving them to their dinner. “Now, I know it’s tempting to eat the whole thing,” Eskel began as he dusted fresh parmesan onto their plates from the little bowl between them, “but we do still have dessert. My advice: don’t be a hero. We can bring home leftovers.”

“You’re going to kill me with all of this,” Julian sighed as he spun his fork in the fresh spaghetti before slurping it up. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he tried hard not to make undignified noises at the dinner table. Eskel chuckled joyfully and ripped a slice of bread in half, dipping into some of the sauce. Julian thought if Eskel committed to their…. whatever this was… even half that much as he was committed to his food, he could count himself pretty damn lucky.

“Is this how you grew up eating? Just this? Casually? Every night?” Julian wondered aloud as he continued to stuff his face as gracefully as he could.

Eskel shrugged, “More or less. Of course, we dress it up for the restaurant, and it wasn’t always pasta. Same idea though, especially when Ma was still around. Pops is pretty protective of the recipes nowadays.”

“He’s very protective of all his children, then,” Julian winked, twirling his fork for another mouthful of pasta. “When did—I mean, if you don’t mind the question, when exactly did your mum… uh?”

Eskel smiled, “No, I don’t mind. Geralt was ten, I was nine, Lambert was… five I think? He doesn’t remember much, bits-and-pieces here and there, but Pops gets out the photo albums once a year on Christmas.”

“Wow, so he like, raised you.”

“Pretty much,” Eskel nodded proudly. “He stepped up well. Of course, everybody makes mistakes. But here we are! He kept us all alive, and that wasn’t an easy feat.”

Julian shook his head with a laugh, “No, I bet not. I imagine he’s proud of you, though.”

Eskel shrugged, “Yeah. We try not to bring too much shame on the family.” A little hazel-eyed wink lightened the mood and the two continued to enjoy their meal and each others’ company. Eventually, Julian pushed his plate back.

“I absolutely cannot eat anymore if I’m going to have dessert. This was delicious.”

“I’m glad you liked it. It’s a favourite of mine.” Eskel got the attention of their waiter, “Could we get these boxed up please?”

“Absolutely. Any interest in dessert?”

“Two espressos and a tiramisu, please. And two spoons. Thanks.”

As they waited for their dessert, Julian reached across the table, waggling his fingers for Eskel’s phone. “My turn, please!”

Eskel begrudgingly handed Julian his phone, and he immediately opened the page back up. “Are you… a morning or a night person?”

“Night. I hate mornings.”

“Ironic, since you chose to open a coffee shop.”

“I know. I still haven’t forgiven myself. You?”

“I can be a morning person if I need to be, but I prefer staying up late. I write better in the evenings.”

“You have about a minute and a half before the espresso gets here,” Eskel said with a smirk, his ears having pricked at the sound of the espresso grinder kicking on.

“Okay, okay. Last one: why didn’t your last relationship work?”

Eskel went quiet. Cleared his throat. Stared at his hands on the tabletop. “I’m not going to avoid that question, Julian, but I’m going to table it for now because I don’t want to answer it here. Later,” he added with an affectionate touch to the back of Julian’s hand.

The musician tilted his head sympathetically, “Of course. And obviously, you don’t have to tell me. But if you want to, I’ll listen whenever it feels right.”

Eskel nodded and straightened his tie, giving himself something to do with his hands. “Thank you. I do want to. Just...not right this second.”

“I completely understand,” Julian reassured him before chancing a glance at the kitchen door which was swinging suspiciously.

The waiter returned with their parceled pastas, and then once again shortly after with a beautifully layered, barely-holding-together tiramisu, and their coffee.

Eskel sipped on his espresso as Julian daintily dug into the dessert-y corner nearest him: it was the creamiest, moistest, most delicately sweetened tiramisu he’d ever tasted. “Dear sweet Baby Jesus and the Mother... Eskel—and I need you to answer me honestly—do you, or do you not, know how to make this? Because if you do, I—you’re not going to have to work very hard to keep me around.”

Eskel smirked and set his now half-empty cup down, “It’s a family recipe, we can all make it. It was kind of a rite of passage growing up. You know Papa trusted you in the kitchen when he put you on Dessert Duty.”

“Maybe you could teach me someday?”

Eskel narrowed his eyes over the rim of his small demitasse cup, “Hmm maybe. Not yet, though. I still have no proof you’re not working for a rival restaurant. Someday. For now, I have to entertain the possibility that you’re a double agent.”

He took his own hearty spoonful and flashed Julian a bright smile as he chewed. Lambert had prepped this. He could tell. Every element was executed with clinical precision, from the saturation of the biscuits to the subtle eggy sweetness of the custard—even the dusting of cocoa on top was perfectly proportioned with the rest of it. Lambert had truly, from start to finish, outdone himself, and Eskel couldn’t help but think his younger brother’s hijacking of the kitchen was about more than just spying on his date. No, he’d wanted it to be perfect, as good as it possibly could be; though of course he’d never say it. He didn’t have to. Lambert was a snarky pain in the ass with a heart the size of a cruise ship. This was him saying it.

Having polished off the remains of their dessert and espresso, Eskel went to the restroom and settled the bill while Julian put on his jacket, and the two made their way to thank the hostess one last time before heading into the now-dark evening. As they approached the host stand, however, Eskel stopped walking. He was in earshot now, and didn’t like what he was hearing.

“...don’t understand, what about that table?” An irritated middle-aged man and his dinner companion were standing in the doorway.

“Once again, sir—and I’m very sorry—but that table is reserved and there’s a one-hour wait without reservations.” Jess was clearly flustered, but holding her own as Eskel hovered nearby.

“Well, then, where are the people whose table that is?” The man blustered, pointing to a recently-vacant, un-bused table.

“I’ve phoned them, and have been assured they’ll be here within their five-minute wind—”

“You know what, that’s okay, we’re going to take a seat, thank you,” the man pushed past, no longer even looking at Jess, clearly speaking solely for the purposes of shutting her up. On his way, he collided with the broad-chested, half-Italian-half-Polish son of the restaurant’s proprietor.

“That table’s reserved,” Eskel said, coolly. Julian felt a shiver down his spine as this new Eskel he’d caught glimpses of all night took full form. He seemed to occupy twice the amount of space he had before and the vague threat of physical force loomed in the distance like a far-off thunderstorm. Oh my. Julian took a few measured steps back, not sure quite what to expect. Still, it wasn’t fear that whirled in the pit of his stomach. Rather it was something much warmer, a mix of admiration and curiosity that turned over and over as he watched the scenario unfold.

“Excuse me?” The man’s watery eyes flashed indignantly as he looked Eskel up-and-down. He scowled and made to step around, “Mind your own business.”

“This is my business.” Eskel once again put himself between man and table. “To be more precise, it’s my father’s business, but we’re a close family.”

“Well, then, you should train your staff better. This girl has absolutely no idea what she’s doing. We have a reservation! We told her we had a reservation, and now she’s telling us we have to wait an hour because of her incompetence. It’s a liability to your business, having staff that can’t handle simple things like reservations, can’t keep track of a simple thing like that, you ought to fire that girl!”

Eskel looked over the man’s head to Jess who shook her head, shrugging helplessly as she pointed to the reservation list. “This woman,” Eskel continued, “has been with us for seven years and has helped us to streamline and optimize our reservation system at least three different times. She’s more than competent, she’s an asset, and now I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You think you can come into my father’s restaurant—any restaurant—and insult the hostess, refuse to abide by carefully structured systems and policies, and force your way to a table that’s meant for someone else? There is no table for you this evening.”

Julian’s eyes widened as he watched from his safe distance, pretending to scroll on his phone so as not to draw attention to the fact that he was hanging onto every word of this interaction. Eskel was magnificent: grounded and calm, his tone still polite but inarguably authoritarian. Julian would stake his life on Eskel not being a violent person if he could avoid it, but for someone his size, even the vaguest possibility of an altercation would be enough to make an opponent question their choices.

“What?!” the man blustered again, utterly aghast at being denied.

“I will repeat myself once: you are not welcome in this restaurant tonight. Within five minutes of walking through that door, you’ve abused and disrespected the staff, and abused and disrespected the policies of this establishment. I wish you and your companion a pleasant dining experience elsewhere.” The crossed arms as a final punctuation were almost over-the-top, but the gesture drove the point home.

Julian glanced over to Jess. She was clearly finding the whole experience immensely gratifying (who wouldn’t? It was every service worker’s dream come true). But there was something more behind her relieved expression that told Julian she was also deeply touched. It was easy to see why: Eskel at peak protectiveness may as well have been a lioness or a mother bear warding off a potential threat to her young. Besides, he was clearly enjoying himself.

“Unbelievable. This is unacceptable. I’ll make sure the Star and the Herald hear about this.”

Eskel said nothing, but gestured with an open palm towards the exit, taking a few steps forward. The irritant had no choice but to vacate the premises. There was a moment of silence as the dust settled and after a deep breath, it was Eskel who broke the silence, “Sorry about that, Jess. Are you okay?” He tapped her elbow in familiar reassurance. She nodded, taking a sip of water. It was fine, she was just a little flustered. “Want to step out for a minute or two? I can watch the door. That is—if…” he gestured to Julian, having suddenly remembered exactly why he was there in the first place. He received a flippant wave and a shrug (‘yes of course you can send the flustered hostess on a break’) and took Jess’s place at the host stand while she went through the kitchen to get some fresh air.

When she returned, Lambert poked his head out the kitchen door and whistled to get Eskel’s attention, “‘Ey! Tutto bene?” All good?

“Stiamo bene.” We’re fine, Eskel answered with an easy shrug. “Chiamerei Papà.” I’ll call Dad. He held the door once again for Julian as they made their exit, pausing to say goodnight to Jess with a familial kiss on the cheek and a reminder that his number was still on speed-dial for a reason. The two stepped out of the restaurant and,—after a final pause for Eskel to call Papa Vesemir and explain what happened—fell into a slow and comfortable amble.

The two of them walked leisurely, their shoulders bumping back forth for a while. Julian glanced up into the sparkling stars overhead and back down to where the moon shone over Eskel’s skin. He noticed that Eskel seemed a little tense, and he knew that it wasn't because of the most-recent incident. No, a question was pressing very loudly into the creases of Eskel’s forehead, and Julian so desperately wanted to know the answer—not to be nosy, but so that he could help in some way, maybe. But in the last few days he’d already gotten the sense that Eskel was a private man, and that any amount of prying would only lead to friction.

Eskel’s hand fidgeted nervously with the keys in his pocket as they wandered down the ambling side streets of Little Italy—most of them one-way with barely a car in sight in contrast with the busy main drag. He thought back to the photo above his fireplace. If he was going to take this step, it was now or never. If it went badly, there was no great loss. A good few dates, maybe the possibility of something more, but no heartbreak. If he waited, he would only run the risk of making things much worse for much longer. They wandered into a small park where a modest bridge stretched over a pond filled with ducks and small fish. They crossed halfway and stopped in the middle, relaxing in the little pocket of nature tucked away inside the large city.

Eskel took a deep breath, worrying his lower lip slightly with his teeth, and Julian couldn’t tear his eyes away as he watched him gather his thoughts, wondering exactly what information he was about to be smacked with. Does he have a secret family no one knows about? Maybe he’s a secret agent. That’d be coo- no, Jules, stay on task, he’s clearly going through it.

“So…” Eskel kept his eyes trained on the far side of the pond, watching the ducks float and mingle under the stars.

“So…” Julian said, resting his elbows gently on the old, weathered wood of the bridge rail.

“You asked earlier about my last relationship, and I would like for you to have an answer.” Eskel sighed and ran his hand down his face, discreetly scratching at the long scar on his cheek. “It’s...it’s not a happy story, I’m afraid.”

Julian stayed quiet, letting Eskel take the time he needed to say whatever it was he needed to say. His hand twitched to reach for him, but he pulled back. Let him have space. Does he need space? What if he doesn’t want space? Damnit, Julian, he’s a grown man, he’s fine just let him… be.

Eskel turned and leaned against the railing with his arms crossed in front of his chest. When he spoke, his words felt rough in his throat, but it felt good to be saying them. Felt right. “I was married before.” Julian’s eyes widened as he raised his eyebrows. He didn’t know why, but Eskel had given off a strong bachelor vibe, not at all what he would have expected from someone who’d already been settled down before. “College sweethearts, got married the summer after we graduated, got situated together as best we could—you know, nice apartment, grown-up furniture, houseplants. We made plans to move out of the city, saved up enough to put a small downpayment on a home somewhere quieter. And we did. Front lawn, backyard, space for a garden. It wasn’t much and it was right by the tracks, but it was ours. Packed everything up, rented a U-Haul (we didn’t have much stuff)... A week and two days after we moved in, a drunk driver ran a red going 100 in a 50 zone and ploughed into the passenger side door—damn near tore the car in half. I wasn’t alone.”

“Oh, shit,” Julian breathed, his eyes welling with tears, “I-I don’t know what to say, except I am so sorry…”

Eskel shook his head, still adamantly staring into the distance, his voice a little thick, “Thank you, Julian, you don’t have to say anything. I just… I wanted you to know. I’ve moved on, but I still love her, if that makes any sense.”

“I understand. Thank you.” Julian rested a hand on Eskel’s shoulder, and received a grateful squeeze from Eskel’s hand as it came to meet his. “So… I do have one question. If it’s alright, if not I can save it for another time if you’d rather not—”

Eskel shrugged dismissively, “No, no, it’s all on the table, you should be able to ask. What’s on your mind?”

“It’s just… you said… her?”

Eskel nodded, “Yes.”

“So you…”

“Found someone I loved.”

Julian nodded, feeling the tears finally break through and trickle down his cheeks, cooling in the night air. He cleared his throat, “Eskel? Could I maybe—unless you want some space, which is fine, you can just tell me but—could I hold your hand? I just, I feel like I want to but don’t know if you—”

Eskel slid his hand over the rail and grabbed onto Julian’s hand, their fingers intertwining gently. Julian squeezed, scooting a little closer to Eskel so that he could feel the warmth radiating from beneath his soft suede jacket. Julian sighed softly, mirroring Eskel as they both looked over the water. “Why now? Why me?”

Eskel finally looked over, and Julian met his eyes. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright and full of mourning and pain and something lighter, something that felt a lot like hope. “I think you came along at a good time.”

“Did you… I mean… have you been with many—”

“I’ve gotten all the rebound out of my system if that’s what you mean,” Eskel smirked brightly and Julian was surprised at the relief he felt to see joy come back to his companion’s face. He nudged Julian’s shoulder, “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. At least, when it comes to people. Clothing is a different story, I’ve said as much myself. I like you, Julian. And I meant what I said about taking this seriously. You know, I… this might sound odd, but I like the way you make me feel. It’s a good feeling. And if it’s alright with you, I’d like to kiss you.”

It was slow and fluid, the way Eskel turned to face Julian, gently sandwiching him between the bridge railing and his own warm body. He didn’t crowd, didn’t press, but the soft wool of his sweater met the crisp cotton of Julian’s button-down and a thrill turned in Julian’s stomach as two large hands cradled the sides of his face. Julian swallowed and reached a tentative hand to Eskel’s right cheek. He didn’t flinch or pull away, but almost leaned into the musician’s cool fingers as they traced the jagged lines.

“May I?” Eskel’s whisper was almost plaintive and Julian could feel his breath trembling as he nodded.

Their lips crashed together and they both breathed deep in a mutual swell, noses filling with cologne and freshly laundered clothing, and the crisp smell of dampness that rose from the chilly water below them. Lips, hands, tongues, hair, bodies pressed closer, their breaths misting in the cool spring air. Only the soft sounds of sleepy ducks and the latent rumble of distant traffic could be heard as the two sunk into each other, relished one another. For Eskel, it was part-relief, part-comfort, hope and reassurance. For Julian it was also hope, but a hope that he could be good enough, be someone for Eskel to rely on, trust in. And so far, much to his amazement, he seemed to be succeeding.

When they did finally part for air, neither of them seemed keen to stray far. Eskel leaned his forehead against Julian’s, his eyes still closed as he caught his breath. Julian, however, couldn’t keep his eyes still, drinking in every ounce of Eskel that he could reach. “You, uh…” Eskel swallowed in a gulping breath, “you still have time to run for the hills.”

Julian chuckled and touched their lips back together sweetly, unhurried, a soft peck in the moonlight. “I’m not running anywhere, I promise.”

Julian could feel Eskel’s smile pressing into his own lips, and he knew he was a goner. “Good. That’s very good…”

They stood there for a while more, lingering in each other’s space as the moon peeked out from behind a cloud, hazy and golden. Though, as more clouds threatened to cover the stars in a dewy mist, Eskel murmured in Julian’s ear, taking his hand and leading him down the path towards Julian’s apartment. They took their time walking back, chatting quietly, sometimes playfully bumping shoulders until they finally reached Julian’s door. It was late, almost 10pm as they stood at the front of the walkup, both feeling slightly chilly.

“I would invite you in but… roommate. And I haven’t told her I’m seeing anyone, so. Not that I expect—er, I mean, whatever you, uh—”

“We’ll figure it out,” Eskel said calmly with a hand on Julian’s shoulder. “Plenty of time.”

With that, they said goodnight, and Eskel promised, once again, to text when he got home.

Meanwhile, Lambert had his back pressed up against the side of the restaurant, its windows dark and oblivious to the shenanigans taking place in its side alley. The usurping chef moaned as his bottom lip was gently pressed between a set of teeth, tugging gently, wantonly, with the promise of leaving him tender and swollen and wanting for nothing by the end of the evening. He knew what Lambert wanted, the smarmy asshole was an open book, and the waiter was always happy to oblige. Besides, Lambert wasn’t the only one getting something out of it. Oh no, this was an equal transaction, enthusiastically participated in by both parties.

Lambert threaded his fingers into thick, dark waves of hair and swallowed the moan he received in response. He felt the pair of hands around his waist slide down to his backside and squeeze tightly, grinding their hips together sloppily, desperately.

“I uh-” Lambert gasped between their lips, “I wanted to thank you again for helping out tonight, Aiden. It uh, I know how much Eskel needed that and-”

“Quit being such a sap and shut up so I can kiss you,” Aiden growled, pushing Lambert harder against the cold brick wall at his back and Lambert was very quickly at a loss for words. Did he have to be up at the ass-crack of dawn to go into the cafe? Yes. Was this just the beginning of a—hopefully—very long night? Aiden hooked a finger in Lambert’s belt and began tugging him towards his car. Yes, yes it was.

***

#family business #collab #eskel/jaskier #eskel/julian #fluff #modern au

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lumosinlove · 5 years

Text

Sweater Weather

part viii

Remus woke up to the sound of the toilet flushing. The room he was in was dark, and it definitely wasn’t his bedroom. He looked to the place where his clock usually was, across the room on the dresser, and when it wasn’t there he sat up further, blankets kept up by his shoulder.

The bathroom door opened then, and he squinted sleepily.

“Sorry,” a voice came, and then someone was climbing into bed beside him. “Sorry, sorry, shh, Il est tôt, it’s early still.”

A hand settled over his hip, a body pressing up against his front and Remus pulled back, blinking hard. Sirius looked back at him, expression morphing into one that was unsure.

“What?” Remus mumbled. This had to be the most vivd dream he had ever had. Dreaming about Sirius coming back to bed after an early morning pee? It had never happened before. Usually his dreams were…less mundane, to say the least.

Sirius gazed down at him, and Remus was struck by the intense feeling of warmth that was present in every place he and Sirius were touching. Sirius’ hand tucked beneath the hem of his shirt and stroked a few soothing lines down Remus’ side.

“Ça va?”

“I…” Remus began to say, and it seemed to trigger something in his brain, to wake it up that last centimeter to realize where he was and what had happened last night. Fierce waves of elation crashed through his chest. He sat up a little further in Sirius’ arms, eyes wide. “Oh.”

Sirius tilted his head in the way he did when he was confused, or thinking, or re-watching his shift on the iPad, and Remus remembered. He remembered, but he needed to make sure.

The surest way to do that was to lean forward and kiss Sirius right on the mouth.

Remus’ entire body relaxed when Sirius made a pleased, low sound into it and leaned towards Remus, settling him back against the pillows so he could lean over him and kiss him again.

“I forgot,” Remus mumbled against his mouth. “Fuck, I thought I was dreaming.”

Sirius hummed, pressing a series of slow kisses to Remus’ cheek, then down to his neck. It felt amazing. “You dream about me?”

Remus could almost have laughed if it wasn’t for the fact that Sirius chose that moment to bite gently at Remus’ jaw. Whatever sound was going to come out turned into a slow, settling exhale.

“Yes,” Remus said softly.

“I do, too.” Sirius sounded pleased. “Sometimes daydreams.” He dragged his mouth back to Remus’ and let their lips brush. “Sometimes very inconvenient daydreams at very inconvenient times.”

Remus’ breath caught. “Yeah?”

Sirius sighed and pressed a small kiss to Remus’ mouth. “You have no idea.”

Except Remus was pretty sure he did.

Sirius smiled like he knew and leant in for another kiss. Remus could have stayed like that forever, nestled beneath Sirius’ body being kissed within an inch of his life. Sirius kissed the way he played—confident and precise, then a little messy when he was really going for it. On a breakaway, or, in this case, slowly taking Remus apart with his hand creeping down over the curve of Remus’ ass.

“You still skate,” Sirius squeezed lightly. “I can tell.”

“Look who’s talking,” Remus said, which turned into Sirius wrestling him back down into the covers to be kissed some more for a while.

“You have practice,” Remus said against Sirius’ lips eventually.

“You do, too,” Sirius caught Remus’ lower lip between his teeth and pulled gently. “You stop me.”

It sounded like a challenge, like Sirius wanting to race on the ice, and Remus laughed and wound his fingers through Sirius’ hair instead, letting himself be kissed.

They did have to get up eventually, and as they walked into the bathroom together, Remus realized that this was the first time he was seeing Sirius as, well, more than what he had been yesterday in the light. There was a purple smudge on his collarbone from Remus’ mouth, and quite a few on his own from Sirius’. But otherwise, Sirius looked the same. His body, toned and tall with lean muscle. The way he stuck his tongue out a little when focusing on anything, even spreading toothpaste on his toothbrush. His scars. Remus realized he had now kissed most of them, the one on his cheek and the one on his lip. Sirius’ hair was a disaster of curls from sleeping and Remus’ hands. Remus loved it.

Sirius caught him looking and smiled a little goofily at him in the mirror as he stuck his toothbrush in his mouth. Remus could see now that Logan’s shirt was a size or two too small, and it stretched across every part of Sirius’ torso and arms. Remus shivered, and then blissfully remembered that he could touch.

So he did. He pressed himself along Sirius’ back and wrapped his arms around his middle from behind. He nosed at the strong dip between Sirius’ wing bones, along his spine. He expected Sirius to laugh, maybe, but instead Remus felt him sigh deeply and looked in the mirror to see that Sirius had his eyes closed. He leaned back a little and Remus spread his feet against the bathroom tiles, taking some more of Sirius’ weight.

“We’ll have to remember to be more careful,” Remus said after Sirius had finished brushing.

Sirius laughed and it came out a little breathless. “More careful already?”

Remus moved around to his side and Sirius turned into him. It felt so natural that Remus could melt right into the floor. “I just mean,” he started, and prodded gently at one of the purple bruises on Sirius’ skin. “Clothing will cover these, but I don’t know what we’d say to Dumo if it didn’t.”

Sirius sighed happily and curled his palm around the back of Remus’ neck. “And those are all my fault, eh?”

“Mm,” Remus nodded in what he tried to make look like a serious way. “You’re the one just standing there, looking like you do, after all.” He rubbed his thumb across Sirius’ cheek. “You need to shave.”

Sirius stooped and rubbed his cheek against Remus’, then soothed it with a kiss, or what maybe was going to be a kiss until a ruckus from down the hall made them both look towards the still closed bedroom door.

“Looks like the baby Dumais’ are up,” Remus said.

“Looks like,” Sirius replied, and finished the soft kiss to Remus’ cheek that he had began.

Remus felt stupid with happiness. If Sirius, now his, looked like this in the bright light of the bathroom, he couldn’t wait to see what he looked like in the sun.

The thing was, it was different, and it wasn’t hard yet, but Remus knew it would be. He hadn’t fooled himself about that. That day at practice was full of giddy, secret shared smiles and Sirius coming over for a sharpened skate and letting his hand rest briefly on the small of Remus’ back as he turned to go. It was new. It was easy to love the newness. Remus knew it would be hard sometimes, but he wasn’t going to sacrifice these moments because of that. He would let it play out. He would let himself enjoy this.

He would wait by the door for Coach to finish his game-time speech and glance, every few minutes, at Sirius, catching his dark eyes steadily looking back. Remus didn’t know if Sirius was actually being obvious about looking, or if it just felt obvious to Remus because it was all he could see, all he could think about. Sirius had a hole in one shoulder of his Under Armour that was definitely going to rip if he didn’t do something about it. Remus couldn’t help but smile a little bit, thinking about the first—and only—time he’d suggested to Sirius that he get a new shirt, or handed him a new hat when the one he had been wearing in post-game interviews was starting to show sweat stains. Sirius, still stiff and unfriendly then, had fixed him with a hard gaze.

“I can’t,” he had said with a set jaw. “I don’t like to change things.”

Remus hadn’t needed him to say anything further. He’d met plenty of guys who had superstitions like that—couldn’t change a stick that he had scored with, wore the same sweatshirt every day before putting their jersey on. He hadn’t seen any, however, with as many superstitions as Sirius.

So, Sirius’ post-game interview snapback was disgusting—and endearing. So there was a hole in Sirius’ shirt that he was most definitely not going to change until he either broke his point streak, or the shirt ripped right in half. Remus bit his lip thinking about the latter, thinking vaguely about different situations where he could be responsible for such a thing. He let himself think about it, right there in the locker room, with Sirius’ eyes trained on him. Sirius’ hands were busy taping a stick, so practice that he barely even had to look. Remus knew what those hands felt like now, on his hips, cupping his cock through his sweatpants—

Remus had his job to get to though. His life felt like an old life now, like some earlier version filled with hockey—of course—and worrying about how much of the team he should really allow himself to indulge in, even if invited. And Sirius. Pining after Sirius. It was the same, really, except now Sirius looked at him and Remus could tell Sirius wanted to kiss him by that look. It was a little incredible. It fueled him through slipping out of the locker room with a smile, it fueled the spring in his step as he walked down the tunnel to the bench and the waiting, filling Hogwarts Arena. They were playing the Ravenclaw Ravens.

He joined Moody on the bench, straightening the extra sticks and looking around the crowd to see if there were any stand-out signs tonight. There were really only the usual. A few girls waiting to ask Finn if he would go to prom with them, a few Ravens fans telling James that he needed to get his eyes checked.

“Ravens got beautiful jerseys this year, eh?” Moody said, and Remus nodded. They were a paler blue than usual, with their signature dark navy coloring raven wings that ran along the insides of the arms so that they appeared to flap with any movement of the players or fans.

“Sick, yeah,” Remus said.

By the time the boys were out on the ice and warming up, many of the kids had received pucks over the glass and the girls had received, if not a prom date, then a signed stick from a slightly pink but winking Finn. Sirius was stretching out on the ice with James, and Remus actually let himself look this time. It wasn’t a coincidence that Sirius was on his hands and knees, stretching his inner thighs, right in front of the bench—he always stretched right in front of the bench—but Remus could look now. And there was a reason why people always said hockey players had the best asses. He wasn’t obvious about it, but the real fun was in watching Sirius, finish, rise, and catch Remus’ gaze. Sirius smiled and skated over for a moment, instead of going to trace the Lions logo at the center of the ice with a puck like he usually did.

“Hi,” Sirius said, picking up a water bottle.

“Hi,” Remus replied in what he could tell was an odd, breathy tone. “Feel good?”

“Parfait,” Sirius slid the water bottle back and licked his lips. “You?”

Remus felt ridiculously unable to keep the smile off of his face. “Mhm. Hey, do—”

James slammed into the boards beside Sirius, “Where is the fucking blue—”

Remus shoved a bottle of blue gatorade at him and James hummed in delight, squirting some into his mouth.

“Thanks, mom.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Leave, I’m having a word with your captain.”

James rolled his eyes exaggeratedly back but skated off to shoot on Leo, who had gotten the start in net that night.

When Remus finally looked back at Sirius, he was standing up again and looking guiltily between Remus and the logo, a puck flicking back and forth on his stick.

“Um, I sort of have to…” Sirius began, then trailed off.

Remus laughed. “Go, keep your routine.” Then, quieter, he added. “We can talk later.”

Sirius sent him a wide grin and then was kicking off towards center ice, slapping his stick to James’ butt on his way. Remus watched Sirius handle the puck with depth, near perfection, in the middle of it all. It was like he was the only person on the ice with the way he focused.

The crowd was getting snacks and settling into their seats. Remus felt like the familiar, exhilarating hum before a game was multiplied by the way Sirius glanced over at him with a wide grin before bending for the opening face off, stick across his knees and eyes going focused and hard. A thrill went up Remus’ spine with the thought that he could tell Sirius how much he liked that look on him now.

The Lions got a shut out. The locker room was cheerful and rowdy after the game, high off of a 4-0 win.

Remus felt high with them.

Sirius had gotten a hat trick. His first one of the season. A gorgeous, coast-to coast goal in the first, followed by a shorty a few minutes later, then a tip-in in the third on a power play. The Lions crowd had been manic, and Sirius had been crushed against the glass by the boys in a hug and what looked like hundreds of hats hat been thrown down onto the ice. Remus couldn’t resist looking up at the jumbo-screen where Sirius’ huge grin was plastered for everyone to see. When he looked down next, Sirius had been right in front of him, pushing himself back onto the bench. Remus couldn’t kiss him, so he knocked him in the helmet instead, smiling back.

“Wow,” Dumo had drawled, accent heavy as he shoved his and Sirius’ shoulders together. “Where did that come from, eh?”

“Guess I’m just feeling it tonight,” Remus heard Sirius reply. He had had to turn around and busy himself with the medkit so he could smile for a second.

The lion head token was awarded to Sirius, and he shoved it on his sweaty head, laughing.

“Nice night boys, and congrats Knutty on the shut out, eh? Let’s keep it going,” he said, then placed it in the upper part of his stall. Remus would have to remember to collect it later for their trip to Nashville in two days to play the Predators. It was then that he remembered they had tomorrow off. He’d have to go in to prep equipment for the plane, but it definitely left his morning free…should it need to be filled with a hockey player in his bed and then sitting at his kitchen table, sleepy and wanting breakfast.

Remus stuck around long enough to watch the media swarm Sirius’ stall, asking him about his hat trick, about how he thought Leo was doing in goal for his rookie season, about his plans for Thanksgiving. Every question was honest if short. He cracked jokes, even. But at the Thanksgiving one, Remus watched the entirety of his body language change. He sat up, adjusted his hat.

“Just home with the family in Québec. You know. It’ll be nice to have time off.”

After that, Sirius was so obviously less open to talking, that some of the reporters moved onto James.

Remus was back in his office and shrugging on his coat when a voice made him turn.

“Need a ride?”

Remus spun on his heels. Sirius was standing there, freshly showered and in jeans and a sweatshirt with his number on the sleeves. He had a beanie pulled low over his wet hair. He smiled, and Remus knew.

“Yeah,” Remus said. “I do.” He grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, murmuring a, “thanks,” once he had reached Sirius in the doorway.

Sirius just nodded, looking down at him for a moment. Remus thought he might kiss him, right there, and as soon as he had the thought, Sirius looked behind him down one end of the hallway, then the other, and then leaned down for the briefest of pecks.

“Let’s get going,” he said, and Remus couldn’t have agreed more.

They briefly ran into Finn and Leo in the parking lot, on their way home back to the apartment they shared, and were spared not much more than a wave. Remus took a steadying breath. They weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary. It was a little thrilling, even, to have this secret.

“I could make some food,” Remus said once they were in the car. “I know you’re hungry.”

Sirius hummed appreciatively as they pulled out of the parking garage and glanced over at Remus. “I don’t want to make you cook. We could pick something up.”

“I’ve got stuff for sandwiches. It’s not exactly cooking. Or pasta, if you want your…” Remus cracked a smile, “second bowl of pasta of the night.”

“I do that sometimes,” Sirius laughed, too. “I get so fucking hungry. But a sandwich sounds really good.”

“Good,” Remus said. He realized he was practically squeezing his hands together and tucked them beneath his thighs instead.

Sirius only needed a few reminders about directions, and Remus took a little delight in the fact that Sirius, without comment, pulled into the overnight parking lot. He knew it was the only option now that loitering on the curb was out, but it sent a tremor to his heart none the less.

They stood on opposite sides of the elevator and grinned stupidly at each other on the way up. Sirius had his hands in his pockets and his head tilted back against the wall and Remus was fairly sure he was going to melt into the floor before they even reached his kitchen. He was just—big. And his sweatshirt was damp at the collar from his drying hair. Remus wanted to wear that sweatshirt.

“Just down here,” he said when the doors dinged open.

“Ouvrir la marche,” Sirius swooped his hand forward and Remus walked ahead, just a little pink.

He could feel Sirius’ presence behind him all the way down the hall, and even more when he pressed a little closer as Remus opened his door. Remus wanted to press back into it, but he took a breath. He didn’t want Sirius to think this was just about sex. The last thing he wanted was for Sirius to feel like Remus was just another person trying to—get to him.

“I have turkey and ham. And cheese. Cheddar,” he rambled a little, trying to let Sirius look around his small apartment for the first time without watching him as nervously as he felt. He walked into the open kitchen and watched as Sirius looked over the counter to the living room. “Oh, and cranberry sauce. I don’t know, I like it with the turkey, you don’t have to have it—”

His sentence was cut off, however, when he was suddenly spun around by a hand around his wrist and pulled into a warm chest. Sirius kissed him hard with a palm against his neck.

“Sorry,” he said after, “I’ve been waiting all day.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Remus fisted a bit of Sirius’ sweatshirt. “You don’t have to be sorry about kissing me like that, jeez.”

Sirius snorted. “Jeez,” he parroted, then leaned down to kiss a laughing Remus again. “Weird word. You know I think I picked that up from you? And I’ll have cranberry sauce.” He brushed their noses together, “I can help?”

Remus nodded, and they got out the ingredients together, Sirius only chirping Remus a little for how stubbornly healthy all the food in his fridge was.

“I’m not the one burning a million calories every night!” Remus said, popping some bread in his toaster.

Sirius held his hands up, conceding and asking, “You want turkey?”

They ate their sandwiches standing up at Remus’ kitchen counter, arms knocking while they ate because they refused to move away from each other. It was nice. It made Remus’ apartment feel less empty. It reminded him of that first call he had received from Sirius, nervous about his ankle and the coming season.

“What made you call me that night?” Remus asked, and by the look in Sirius’ eyes he didn’t have to elaborate.

“I told you I’d liked you for a while. That, and you’re a big reason why my ankle rehab went so well. I knew you’d be able to comfort me.” Sirius shrugged one shoulder. “You always know what to say to me.”

Remus smiled a little. They were the words Sirius had said to him the night that they kissed. “That’s still not true.”

“I’d know better than you,” Sirius knocked their hips together. He took the last bite of his sandwich and then brushed the crumbs off of his hands. “Alright, I’m going to go find that number 12 jersey of yours now.”

Remus dropped his sandwich right back onto his plate.“No, no, no, no you aren’t.” Remus grabbed Sirius’ arm, but had to put a bit of his weight into leaning backwards to keep Sirius still.

Sirius cracked up and playfully—but successfully—tugged Remus closer towards his bedroom. “What,” he stopped suddenly, making Remus stumble a little. Sirius caught him and pressed him against the wall. “You aren’t going to wear it for me?”

Remus let out a shaky breath. Sirius towered over him, neck bent a little to brush their lips together. His voice was low and deep, his accent sounded heavier than usual.

Remus swallowed and took a breath. “Maybe you can wear it for me.”

Sirius smiled slowly and his tongue came out to wet his bottom lip. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Remus said, slowly being distracted by Sirius’ thigh pressing between his own.

Sirius’ eyes were dark when he leaned closer, brushing their noses together.

“Show me.”

Remus leaned up and kissed Sirius hard, pushing him backwards in the direction of his bedroom. It wasn’t the most practical. They kept bumping into the walls because they wouldn’t stop kissing long enough to watch where they were going. Sirius kept his hands planted firmly on Remus’ hips, dipping beneath the hem of his sweatshirt.

“C’est bon?” Sirius said against his mouth.

Remus didn’t respond, exactly, but kissed him harder, guiding them through the doorway and into his bedroom. He had a sudden, fleeting thought about whether he had left it messy or clean that morning.

“Mm,” he said, pulling away and glancing around the floor. It was bare except for a stray shirt on the bed. He looked back up at Sirius, who was looking at him with his eyebrows raised. “I was just—if it was clean.”

Sirius laughed, hand moving to rest on Remus’ cheek. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Remus’ mouth. “Don’t worry about that.”

Remus wrinkled his nose, “I wasn’t worried—”

But then Sirius was kissing him again, backing up until they were by the bed. He gave Remus’ sweatshirt a tug. “Can’t have this on if you’re going to wear your jersey, eh?”

“Eh?” Remus parroted, and Sirius gave his side a playful pinch before spinning them so the back of Remus’ knees hit the bed and he fell backwards.

“I can take it off?” Sirius fell down on top of him, thighs spread around Remus’ hips and palms pressed into the mattress on either side of Remus’ head.

“Yeah,” Remus breathed.

Sirius pressed a devastatingly lingering kiss to his mouth, and then grinned before moving onto his neck. Remus blinked up at the ceiling and let out a breath, hands going to Sirius’ hair.

“It isn’t fair,” Sirius said against his skin. He pulled the collar of Remus’ sweatshirt down and kissed there, too, along his collarbone. He scraped his teeth lightly.

Remus’ fingers tightened in his hair, and he pulled his lip into his mouth. “What isn’t?”

Sirius lifted his head and looked at him for a moment, eyes dark and playful. He sat back a little farther down the bed so that his face was level with Remus’ stomach as he pushed the hem of Remus’ sweatshirt up, revealing pale skin.

“You get to see me naked all the time,” Sirius said, and leaned down to press a kiss just above Remus’ naval.

Remus laughed, a little breathlessly. His hand had slipped from Sirius hair when he moved out of reach and he pulled his own sweatshirt up now. “How is anything about that unfair? Seems pretty great from my end.”

“Well, I never get to see you.” Sirius tilted his head at him, eyes flicking along Remus’ face. “Enleves-le pour moi?”

Remus blinked at him for a second, then scrambled to follow instructions, sitting up just enough to wrestle his sweatshirt from his body, leaving him bare from the waste up. It would be easy for Sirius to see, now, how fast he was breathing.

“Now I do,” Sirius said lowly, and kissed down Remus’ chest, large hands spanning along Remus’ ribs. “No more teasing in hotel and guest rooms. You forgot your clothes,” Sirius sends him a small smile. “Jeez, Remus.”

“I did,” Remus said, flushing as he remembered that first night Sirius and him had fallen asleep in New York.

“You certainly didn’t mind me,” Sirius’ mouth had made it down to Remus’ hips now, thumbs playing with the band of his sweats, “silently freaking out on the bed.”

Remus looked down at him, breath hitching. His dick was uncomfortably tight in his boxers now, an obvious bulge just below Sirius’ chin. “Oh, you were freaking out?”

“Mm,” Sirius hummed, then promptly bent and mouthed all along the clothed outline of Remus’ dick.

Remus let out a breath, fingers closing tightly around the sheets.

“You were right there,” Sirius breathed, then pulled away, pushing himself back up to Remus and pressing their hips together, pulling a groan from both of them. “Making me crazy.”

“Fuck,” Remus tangled his fingers in Sirius’ sweatshirt. “Fuck, off, take this off.”

It was what he said, but at the same time he hooked his ankle around Sirius’ calve and kept him there, arching his hips up as Sirius pressed them together.

“Have to let me go,” Sirius said, and fuck if Remus loved how his accent was even heavier now, like he was losing focus. “If you want me to wear the jersey.”

“I just want you,” Remus said instantly, feeling a little wild with the truth of it.

A funny look crossed Sirius’ face for a second, lips parted. He leaned down and kissed Remus, tongue swiping into his mouth. He made a low sound and sat up on his knees, reaching behind him and tugging his sweatshirt and t-shirt over his head in one motion.

Remus held his breath. After so long of not being able to look, the sudden freedom nearly made him ache. He felt himself twitch in his pants at the hard planes of Sirius’ chest. He was just good. Everywhere. Lean muscle, cut hips, broad shoulders.

“Not to say I won’t want you to wear it…sometime.” Remus smiled as he reached forward questioningly and tugged at Sirius’ sweatpants.

Sirius laughed, leaning down over Remus again. His skin was warm against Remus’. “You first. I wear that thing every day.” He nosed against Remus’ cheek, voice dropping to a whisper. “Hey.”

Remus chased his mouth, sneaking a quick kiss. “Yeah?”

“You should know that I—um.”

Remus blinked a few times at the suddenly nervous tones in Sirius’ voice. He reached up and pushed the hair away from Sirius’ face, rubbing his thumb along his temple, over a slightly raised, old scar on the high of his cheek. “What it is? It’s alright.”

Sirius leaned into the touch, smiling a little sheepishly. “Nothing bad, I’ve just never…you know? With a guy?”

Remus felt his eyes widen and Sirius shrink back from it, smile fading a little.

“No, no, no,” Remus said quickly, pressing a hand gently to Sirius’ chest. “That’s fine. Sirius, of course that’s okay. We can do whatever you want.” Remus shook his head, smiling, “If it helps…I sort of feel like I’m going to come in my boxers like a fucking sixteen year old.”

Sirius’ mouth opened for a minute, then he ducked his head against Remus’ neck where Remus could feel him laughing. Remus laughed, too, but even the slight change in mood didn’t stop him from squirming against Sirius a little.

Sirius felt it, groaning gently into Remus’ neck before pulling back to look down at him, to kiss him soundly. Remus decided to take a little more control then, licking into Sirius’ mouth and pushing at his shoulders until he got the hint and rolled obligingly onto his back.

“We can do whatever you want,” Remus repeated as he settled himself on top of Sirius. “We can start slow, okay?” Remus reached down and brushed his fingers over Sirius’ dick through his sweatpants.

“I—yeah,” Sirius said, sounding a little dazed. He nodded, “yes.”

Remus got them both out of their sweatpants, their boxers, and then they sat there looking at each other for a moment. Remus swallowed dryly. He’d caught what fleeting, risked glances he’d allowed himself of Sirius’ dick in the locker room, but never like this. Never hard leaking against his stomach a little. He had been able to tell he was probably big when he got hard but—

“God,” Remus breathed. If only he’d known that his fantasies hadn’t been doing Sirius justice at all. That the real thing was so much better. He felt himself twitch and cupped a hand around his balls briefly, hissing, just to relieve some pressure.

Sirius, meanwhile, was staring just as intently back, eyes wide and hungry, and mouth parted like it did after a breakaway up the ice. He opened an arm, and looked up at Remus.

“Come?” he said. “What now?”

Remus let out a breath and went to him, pressing himself all along the side of Sirius’ body and tucking one thigh loosely over his. He liked this, being as close as possible and free to look all he wanted. He ran his hand up Sirius’ chest first, then up his neck to turn his head and kiss him. He wanted Sirius to enjoy every second, wanted him to feel relaxed.

“Okay?” Remus asked when, after a few minutes of making out, Sirius started making noises.

“Oui,” Sirius breathed, chasing Remus’ mouth. “But…” He reached for Remus’ hand where it was curled around the back of his neck and took it in his own, moving down, down, and pressing it just above where his dick was more than a little wet against his stomach. He made another soft sound, and Remus smiled. Sirius skin was hot and Remus was happy to have so blatantly received permission.

Remus pressed a kiss to his jaw and wrapped a hand around him. It was a little dry, and Remus would get the lube from his bedside table in a second, but right now all he wanted to do was watch the way Sirius’ eyes slipped closed and his mouth dropped open. Remus let out a shaky breath and squeezed Sirius at the base, then ran a thumb over the crown.

“How do you like it?” Remus asked, pressing a blind kiss to Sirius’ cheek as he watched.

Sirius swallowed. “It’s good. A little tighter, maybe.”

“Here,” Remus said. “One second.”

He gave Sirius a quick stroke before rolling away for the lube. He eyed the condoms for a second, but he didn’t think that was what was happening tonight. He was more than happy with this.

“Ah,” Sirius said. “Didn’t know where you were going on me.”

Remus flipped the cap and squeezed a bit out onto his palm before tossing it onto the bed somewhere and pressing himself all against Sirius’ side again. “Not going anywhere,” he said, and took Sirius in his hand once more. “Tell me what you like.”

Sirius let out a little laugh, letting his head rest back against the pillows. “You.”

Remus smiled and took advantage of the newly exposed expanse of Sirius’ throat to kiss it gently. He tightened his grip and heard Sirius’ breathing hitch. “And?”

There was a beat of Sirius simply breathing, before his hand closed around Remus’ and he pushed his thumb up to play at the head. The minute he did so a bit of come dewed at the tip before leaking over the side. It was Remus’ turn to breath a little heavier, watching Sirius show him this part of himself. Never in a million years did he think…

“Can I…?” Sirius began, then hesitated until Remus nodded. He didn’t know what Sirius was asking, but he was okay with it.

It turned out Sirius wanted Remus on top of him, thighs against Sirius’ hips. It turned out Sirius wanted to grab the lube and dribble it straight onto his own stomach, then pull Remus down with his hands on the backs of his thighs.

“Oui?” Sirius mumbled in response to Remus’ punched out moan, and rolled his hips up.

“Fuck. Fuck, yeah, yeah,” Remus breathed. He let Sirius coax him the way he wanted, his hands framing Sirius’ head. They built a relatively quick rhythm, but after a while Sirius started making noises again. He was louder than Remus had expected.

“Who knew,” Remus let slip. He couldn’t remember ever being this hard.

“More,” Sirius panted, then reached for one of Remus’ hands and wrapped it around both of their dicks.

Remus couldn’t help but laugh a little, even as he groaned at the sight of Sirius’ large hand around his, around both of them. “Your play, huh?” he said.

“Communicate to score,” Sirius mumbled, a little deliriously.

Remus would have made fun of him for it, if it hadn’t reminded him of something. He leaned down instead, keeping one hand around both of them, jacking them quickly with firm snaps of his hips.

“That fucking hat trick, Pads, fuck,” he rubbed his thumb against the sensitive base of his cock, thinking about the powerful, dark look Sirius always got on the ice. “You were so good. You’re always so good.”

Sirius made another low noise in the back of his throat. “Because of you,” he managed, then, “Think about you on the ice. All the time. Now, more.”

Remus couldn’t help but smile as he bit a kiss into Sirius’ neck. Sirius said “more” in the same way that he yelled “skate” at his teammates from the bench.

“Yes, Captain,” Remus said into his skin.

“Fuck,” Sirius groaned, but it didn’t sound all that unhappy at all. He practically growled and wrapped an arm fulling around Remus’ back before flipping them.

“C’mere,” Sirius said simply again, and then his hand slipped down to Remus’ ass and lifted him against him.

“Yes,” Remus choked out, arms tight around Sirius’ neck. He could feel himself getting close. He looked down and felt his dick twitch hard. Sirius’ cock had made them both messy with the nearly steady stream of precome it was leaking, clear and shining.

“Did,” Remus thought for a moment, “did you already…”

“No,” Sirius panted. “Just—how I am.”

Remus couldn’t even reply to that, just reached down at ran a the heel of his palm against Sirius’ red, stiff cock, through the mess, pushing it against his own stomach, against his own dick.

“Close,” Sirius said. “Remus, come for me.” He let Remus back down against the mattress and hitched his legs around his hips. Remus moaned as it brought them that much closer. Sirius reached between them with both hands, cupping Remus’ balls with one palm and giving Remus long, tight pulls with the other. “Come.”

Remus felt his breath catch, his back arch off the bed, before he came hard, blindingly so. He felt Sirius’ reaction when he did, a shaky release of breath as Remus arched against him. Sirius pressed against him, cock heavy and aching against Remus’ hip. He rutted once, twice, and then came, too, with a groan. He came for a long time, and in thick pulses, mouth open and eyes shut. Remus felt his cock twitch in a valiant effort to come again at the sight, only managing a thin dribble. He couldn’t imagine where it all came from.

“Jesus,” he breathed, reaching out. “God, Sirius, look at—you’re so…fuck.”

Sirius more or less fell into Remus’ kiss. It was sloppy and wet, and Remus never wanted him to stop. He pressed his fingers through Sirius’ hair to steady him, to pull him in completely until they were chest to chest, mess and all. Sirius was breathing hard, panting into Remus’ mouth. There was a fine tremor beneath his skin and Remus passed his hands up and down Sirius’ sides, smoothing it away. He pressed kisses to Sirius’ jaw.

“Fuck,” Sirius murmured. “Fuck, Loops, that was…” he groaned a little.

Something in Remus’ chest warmed at the nickname. He held Sirius a little tighter.

Sirius looked at Remus, smiled softly, then pressed his face against Remus’ neck, warming and laughing lightly. “You liked your hat trick?”

Remus laughed out loud. “My hat trick? Your hat trick.”

“But it was for you,” Sirius pressed a kiss to Remus’ neck, which turned into a trail of them until he reached Remus’ mouth again. “For our team…but for you.”

Remus pushed his fingers through Sirius’ hair. “Maybe this is a new hat trick. Our hat trick. A sort of—celebration.”

Sirius laughed, tilting his head.

Remus pressed a kiss to his lips. His heart was still beating hard as he tried to catch his breath. “You know, like a Gordie Howe hat trick is a goal, an assist, and a fight. We can have a goal, an assist, and a…” He smiled.

Sirius smiled slowly, eyes dark and knowing. “A fuck?”

“Maybe,” Remus grinned as Sirius bent to kiss his neck again.

“What will we call it, eh?” He trailed his fingers lightly over Remus’ sensitive dick, then smoothed a warm thumb over his hip bone.

“Mm…” Remus let his eyes slip closed, tilting his chin up.

“Fruit-loop,” Sirius laughed, then snorted and laughed harder. “Fuck-trick.”

Remus laughed too, and then they were laughing against each other, then kissing, then laughing again.

“I’ll just have to score more goals, then,” Sirius whispered against his mouth.

“I guess so,” Remus said.

(A/N: My prom years have passed, and yet I, too, want Finn O’Hara to be my prom date.

Thank you so much for being patient guys! Also keep an eye out for some news I’ll be posting soon!)

#sweater weather #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #hockey!au #hockey player!sirius #trainer!remus #harry potter #wolfstar smut #wolfstar fluff #the marauders era #sirius/remus #remus/sirius #writing #lumosinlove #hp fic #harry potter fic #wolfstar fic

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davecall93 · 4 years

Text

Teddy (8)

In their settled routine, Teddy regularly woke up at 11. By that time, Coach would be downstairs, either fixing him breakfast in the kitchen or working, having already laid out his boy’s breakfast. Teddy would eat, lay back down or on the deck in the back. That morning, Coach was not home, and Teddy grabbed a box of to-go chow mien from the fridge. As he was nearly finished, he heard the garage door open and Coach whistling to himself.

“Hello, honey” said Coach, entering the room carrying a stuffed paper grocery bag. Teddy perked up. The word honey was Coach’s word to indicate that he was especially pleased with himself, even more so than usual.

“Morning. You’re home late.”

“You didn’t starve, did you?” Said Coach sarcastically pointing at the box in Teddy’s left hand. He then noticed that was all Teddy had, frowned and said, “Wait…is that all you ate?”

“I can get seconds.”

“It’s fine, actually. I have plans for us today.”

“Yeah?”

Coach smiled as he took groceries out of the bag. Teddy note that there was something wrapped from the butcher.

“Fancy dinner?”

Coach ignored Teddy. He went over to the large, walk-in pantry and emerged with two party sized bags of chips, a package of double stuffed oreos and a liter of soda. When he set them down, he grabbed Teddy’s face and squared the boy’s eyes with his, exerting only a slight, prodding amount of pressure.

“I think Teddy would like to spend the day in his room.” Teddy’s room was the walk-in closet.

“Yes sir,” said Teddy, staring Coach.

“You can take the iPad in the study and your headphones. Do not come out until I come to get you.”

“Yes sir.”

When Coach released his face, Teddy dutifully marched to the study and then to the walk-in closet, where he spent the day in the yellow light grazing on his snacks. In the later afternoon, around 4 o’clock, he was dying to use the bathroom, and as he shifted about trying to soften the increasing pain, he heard Coach’s disembodied voice say over a cheap speaker, “You can go, Teddy. Be quick.”

That sick fuck, thought Teddy as he bolted out and into the bathroom. When he returned, he peered along the shelves and ceilings, wondering where Coach had put the camera.

At 5:30, Coach opened the door, finding Teddy chest down on the floor in only his boxers watching TV and licking the cream off the side of an Oreo.

“Behold! Adonis in the underworld.”

Teddy took his tongue, bunched the tip and licked the cream of the Oreo sensually. “You like that pervert?”

“He’s feeling fresh,” said Coach, quietly. “That’s good. I was planning just the lesson for him. Come downstairs. You can leave your feed.”

Teddy followed Coach downstairs and onto the patio. There was a high-backed chair with arms and rope hanging off one of them. On the table wing of the grill what looked…no, what was, Teddy now knew…a funnel gag and a leather eye mask.

“Sit, Teddy.”

“Isn’t it a little early in the day?” asked Teddy, thinking about the dinner he had assumed Coach was planning.

“Be quiet.” After he had secured Teddy’s limbs, Coach brought over the funnel and mask, saving the mask for last. Teddy, unable to speak, whimpered slightly as he was plunged into darkness. In that darkness, he felt a piece of rope be wrapped around his rounded gut, tied back just gently enough to hug his circumference ever so slightly. Teddy could not see it, but Coach was beaming as he looked at his trapped and helpless little darling, bulging at the stomach, love handles and crotch, his mop of hair untended.

All Teddy heard was Coach say, “There we are” and then waited. He heard Coach’s footsteps across the deck and slide the screen door open and closed.

Coach? He attempted to whimper. Coach?

Teddy lost track of time as he sat there, feeling the occasional pleasant breeze and shifting helplessly every few minutes. Some time later, he heard what he thought was a second voice in the kitchen. He wondered who Coach would have over…

And then he heard the screen door slide open and the laughter of a pleasant, easy going exchange. He knew that second laugh from somewhere, he just could not place it. He heard Coach say, “You can take the pitcher and the wine, I’ll carry this.”

As the footsteps approached, Teddy could tell there was just one other person with Coach. Then, out of the blue (at least to Teddy, who could see only darkness), Teddy heard a bright enthusiastic voice: “Hey! Looking good, big guy!”

It was Henry.

Teddy whimpered a bit, unsure exactly what words he was trying to produce. He felt someone approach and then suddenly there was a hand shaking the flab of his gut vigorously. “Teddy, you’re bigger than the last time I saw you! Look at your arms!” Teddy felt Henry pinch the pool of fat beneath his triceps. “Hewie really takes great care of you.”

“He’s disgusting,” said Coach, somewhere to Teddy’s left and above him.

“Don’t say that,” said Henry, who was rubbing Teddy’s thighs with his hands. “He’s beautiful. Look at him! He looks so well-fed.” He pinched Teddy’s love handle. “That is some tender loving care right there.”

Teddy whimpered slightly, confused. Why was Henry there? How did he and Coach know each other?

“Henry has come to join us for dinner, honey,” said Coach, who had crouched down so his mouth was about level with Teddy’’s ear. “We were going to have some drinks here on the deck. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Teddy whimpered more forcefully. He heard Henry whisper, concernedly, to Coach, “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” whispered Coach, just loud enough so Teddy could hear. “He’ll tell us if he really wants to stop it.” Coach and Henry simultaneously at Teddy, who continued to whimper our of confusion and shift needlessly in the chair.

“Go for it,” said Coach, who watched as Henry pour some of a blender of shake into the funnel. Teddy gulped it down dutifully.

“See? He loves it.” Teddy sat still. It was not the shake that he was sure that he minded.

“Should I give him some more?”

“Sure,” said Coach, as if he routinely considered how to properly moderate how he served Teddy. Teddy felt another rush of shake and gulped it down.

“Now tell him what a good job he’s done and come have a drink.”

“You’re doing great,” said Henry, patting Teddy softly on his stomach. Teddy was nowhere near full after Henry’s modest pours. “You’re so soft.” He grabbed the pitcher again and poured more shake into Teddy. “Just to top you off,” he said, slightly sheepishly. Henry then walked over to the deck table and sat across from Coach.

In the darkness, Teddy digested and listened intently to their conversation. He was less bothered that an acquaintance had manhandled him than that Coach and Henry appeared to be on a date. The two were chatting about Coach’s charity work (Henry was famliar with the organization) and apparently shared a mutual love of cooking. Teddy felt his young heart in love sink.

Until of course, he heard, in the darkness, Henry ask how long Coach and Teddy had been together.

“Since the start of the summer.”

“That must have been a big change.”

“It was. I moved into this place after I broke off an engagement a few years ago, and I didn’t think I would meet anyone for a long, long time. But I had to pounce fast on Teddy; he was moving.”

“We’re thinking of moving after he gets back,” said Henry. “Neither of us is from around here, and I mean there’s not much here unless you just want to hang out.”

“I could find you a job if you’re looking for one. You should give it a try, it’s a nice place for someone your age.” There was a pause. “Besides, I’ll need someone to sit for Teddy if I ever have to go away and can’t take him.”

Teddy heard Henry laugh. “What would that entail?”

Teddy could not see Coach gesture towards the boy sitting tied up on the deck. “Just like this. You have to cook for him, though, and rub his belly when he’s full. He’s like a dog.” Coach raised his voice to make sure Teddy could hear, “But much dumber!”

“Hewie!”

“He can’t hear us.”

“Well, my boyfriend would not…I mean…it’s not really his thing. He’d be pretty disgusted.”

“Teddy’s the first boy I’ve ever really had the chance with. Everything up to now has been mostly pretty vanilla. My boyfriend in college got chubby because I would cook for him, but…he was a drunk, rocker boy. That was as much the beer as me. Then I dated a guy who was…” Coach paused and inhaled, “…a nice guy. He kept trying to lose weight, and we just sort of petered out.”

“And the engagement?”

“Ah! He was an asshole. So was I, I guess. It was a long phase. I really wanted to live the life I expected to. And I like nice boys, but I really gelled at the time with this guy. We were an incorporated couple. Perfect match, did everything together: marathons, dinner parties, we played around together, we were known in the co-mu-ni-ty. I proposed at Christmas, he was the one guy my mother ever approved of. He was all about status. And one day he was bitching about how fat he was—and that bitch was fitter than me—and it just hit me that everything we did was for…well, we didn’t have Instagram at the time. But we were a fucking hashtag. So I broke it off, took the offer to coach swimming here, and then one day I met that little fat mop of hair.

“And the rest is history.”

“The rest is history. But you know…you take a chance. Teddy could have been like, ‘I don’t like this,’ and we’d be sitting here eating salads. You make choices.”

“So I should stay with him?”

“Until you shouldn’t.” Coach looked over at Teddy. “I think someone is ready for the rest of his shake.”

Henry got up and poured some more shake in the funnel.

“No, you’re too polite. You gotta give him what he fucking wants. I’ll show.”

In the darkness, Teddy heard Coach approach.

“Now, as I pour it in, put your hands on his stomach and just feel that greedy pit get full.”

Teddy felt two cool hands place themselves on his stomach. In seconds, there was a rich flow of shake, and he felt the rope tighten against his stomach.

“Teddy!” Said Henry as they continued to feed him, “you’re growing all over the place!”

Coach looked down at Teddy’s tented crotch. “That’s all me. He didn’t do that at first, did you honey?”

When there was air again, Teddy moaned.

He then felt the tickle of Coach whispering in his ear, “Henry is going to jerk you off. Is that okay?”

Teddy made a long moan of assent. In the darkness, he could feel his stomach rounding out, pushing tighter against the rope Coach had fastened around him. He felt Henry’s hand reach into his boxer’s and pull out his modest erection, and stroke it rhythmically. In seconds, he was lost in a mix of pain from the stuffing and the ecstasy of Henry stroking his cock.

When he came, more forcefully than he had in a few weeks, he could hear Henry say breathlessly, “Fuck that was hot.”

“C’mon, I think it’s our turn to eat,” was all that Coach replied.

The two ate companionably, leaving Teddy tied up and eavesdropping on the patio. When the night turned cold, Coach draped a blanket over him. When Henry said goodbye, he patted Teddy on the stomach, telling him what a good boy he’d been, as Coach had instructed him to do.

Once he was gone, Coach came out and released his eyes and mouth. Before Teddy could say any words, he got a big wet kiss.

#Gainerfiction #gainer stories

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onisionisacanceronthisearth · 4 years

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What is your opinion on the whole windowgate situation? I hear a lot of people thinking it's somehow set up (I do not personally believe that), what's your take on it? Do you think it could've happened to anyone, or Kai and James/Greg caused it? Why didn't he show the security cam footage?

My take is just neglect, pure and simple. They’ve never given a shit about their kids, it was Sarah or Kai’s grandmother who ever cleaned the house or watched the kids while Kai or James would make their videos or livestreams. Kai seems to like the idea of being a parent more than actually being a parent and it shows in their videos. Meanwhile Greg just fetishizes pregnancy and clearly has no love or care for his children

In various vlogs you can spot the kids under the tables with an ipad. The son has anger issues and will push his (at the time under 2) younger sister off the couch. If you’re taking care of your kids and watch them the kids would never be in a position where one could push the other, very young child off furniture. Especially if this is a common issue. Greg even thought a good way to deal with the kid’s anger is to allow his son to try beating him up (who knows if he lets his son do that, but he’s said it so he obviously thinks that’s a good thing to say online). During a power outtage instead of comforting the kids Greg and Kai vlogged while one of the kids was in the background with a full brightness ipad under a table while it was pitch dark otherwise. Greg and Kai then went to olive garden and it’s unknown if the kids went with them or were left alone at home during the outtage.

Greg and Kai have made it clear all the “womanly duties” like general cleaning and cooking is all up to Kai as well as indicated the same for childcare. We also know that once while Kai and Madison were out and Greg was supposed to be caring for the kids and not only refused to change at least one child’s diaper because he thought cleaning up a poopy diaper would make people think he’s a pedophile (ironically solidifying his pedophilia more if he’d even sexualise cleaning poop off a toddler), but didn’t even think to call the mother that her child was obviously completely coated in poop long enough to cause serious rashes. In fact, it was entirely likely he just left the kids alone and didn’t even so much as check up on them during that time because you just can’t miss a diaper that filled nor the constant crying of a child who needs their diaper changed. While Kai might be neglectful, Greg just flat out ignores his children.

During the incident Kai was cooking and instead of getting Greg to stop being useless and watch his damn kids, Kai decided to leave the child alone in a completely seperate room to be parented by the TV. While being interviewed Kai even admitted that the girl had a history of being very active and climbing everywhere yet thought it was perfectly fine to put her in a room alone with no view of her. Greg added also that the girl had a history of standing on the windowsills and so the parents always kept the windows closed and locked yet Kai left them alone in a room without making sure that was the case (or potentially the kid learned how to open windows). Another perfectly acceptable thing was Greg deciding to film a video of his fallen child instead of comforting her because he was afraid CPS would suspect foul play while randomly citing the Shiloh incident. Again, ironically this is a lot more suspicious and wouldn’t even exonerate him even if he was questioned as to having thrown his child out the window or something. If anything I see this as yet more proof of him not giving a shit about his children because after the initial shock and yelling at his spouse to call 911, he grabbed his camera to film the child being comforted by his spouse and the window the child fell from (even the officer noted the reasoning as strange).

I personally don’t see it as suspicious that the security video didn’t capture the fall because it was just a doorbell camera and the video does collaborate at least Greg’s story that he went outside after hearing weird noises and immediately ran back to Kai telling him to call 911. I also see no reason for greg to show the evidence because it’s more useful when combined with the police report and really only shows that Greg was indeed surprised to see his child lying on the ground with multiple head fractures (but I guess proves he didn’t have anything to do with it). As for the other video it was a one second video showing his bleeding child on the ground followed by a pan up to the window that would need to be pretty much fully censored to be on youtube (but even then he’d likely be in the shit because of the content). No reason to bother trying.

I don’t think this is something that could happen without stupidity and negligence but I don’t think any of it was intentional. While I think Kai is a horrible parent, I do think they do love their kids and doubt they deliberately put their young child in a room with an open window in order to kill them and Greg does have a pretty much iron tight alibi so it’s not him either. It would be nice if the two of them started to pay closer attention to their kids now, but I unfortunately really doubt it.

#onision #coolguykai #laineybot #onision and his children

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talesofstyles · 5 years

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I just really want some really nice cosy Harry fluff about chilling together and just loving on each other without sex. Please please please x

hi! i’m literally the worst person that you could send a concept to so i’m sorry this took forever! but hope you like it anon! xx

When Harry is in London, he has an additional—and most important if you ask him—profession; his wife’s personal chauffeur. Most of his business is in LA, so his schedule isn’t as tight when he’s back home in London. When he’s home, he wakes up bright and early every morning; sometimes he wakes up first, but most of the time YN has to wake him up. At first, she always wakes him up after she’s all set, dressed in her work outfit, and ready to go. But then Harry started to complain because he wanted to see her getting ready. YN laughed, and the next day she woke him up right after she took a shower so she was still wrapped in her towel. Of course, Harry being Harry, he tugged the only piece of fabric that covered his wife’s body and pulled her back into bed. They did it that morning, and for the first time in history, YN was an hour and a half late to work.

“Sodding fucking bollocking shit wank!” A train of curse words left YN’s mouth, making Harry burst in laughter. “An hour and a half! What am I supposed to say to my boss?!”

“Just tell ‘im your husband gave you a really big breakfast,” Harry teased his panic wife, grinning from ear to ear. “Took a while to finish.”

“Harry!”

Smiling to herself and shaking her head as she recalls the memory, YN looks at her reflection in the mirror to check her make-up one last time, before she stands up and walks towards the bed to wake her husband up. In the beginning, YN refused when Harry proposed his idea to take her to work and then pick her up every day whenever he’s at home. London traffic is no joke and she thought that Harry could just rest at home, but her stubborn husband wouldn’t have any of it and insisted to do it so she just let him.

“H,” YN whispers as she taps Harry’s shoulder gently. “Wake up.”

Harry stretches out his arms in response before he rubs his eyes. “Morning,” he mumbles, opening his eyes slowly. He pouts as soon as he realises that YN is already dressed and ready to go. “Y’didn’t wake me up earlier!”

“Sorry,” YN lets out a chuckle. “Got an important meeting this morning. Can’t risk being late.”

“I wanted to see you getting ready,” he grumbles like a stroppy child, making YN laugh.

“You’ll see more than that tonight,” she smirks at him to cheer him up. “Promise.”

“Oh,” he smiles instantly. “Gonna put on a little show f’me?”

“Maybe,” YN shrugs playfully, laughing at her husband. “Go and get ready. What do you want for breakfast? Eggs? Muesli?”

“Don’t worry about that,” he says as he begins walking to the en suite to get ready. “I can just take a fruit and eat in the car if you’re in a rush.”

***

“Indian or Chinese?” Harry asks YN as soon as they step into their home after Harry picked her up from work. It’s Friday and they always order takeout every Fridays.

“Indian, please,” YN replies without turning her head as she plops down on the couch in their living room. “And-”

“Get extra naan?” Harry cuts her off, smiling. They really know each other so well that they don’t even have to talk in full sentences for the other to understand.

YN chuckles, looking over her shoulder and smiling at Harry. “I was gonna say I love you.”

“I’m not buying that,” Harry rolls his eyes comically as he grabs the phone to order. “Know you too well, darlin’.”

“I’m not selling anything,” YN laughs.

Harry walks towards the couch after he put the phone down. It’s not that often for YN to sit on the couch right away after she gets home from work. Normally, she’ll take a shower right away or maybe just change into her loungewear, but on one of these days when she’s extra clingy—if you ask Harry he’ll want her to be that clingy every day—she’ll plop down on the couch with her husband. She’ll take the remote control from his hand, and begins scrolling to find something to watch on Netflix. The telly is always on, but they never actually watch it. She’ll snuggle up to his side, her head resting on his chest and he’s got one of his arms wrapped around his wife.

Harry knows that she is in that mood when he sees her sitting down on the couch waiting for him to finish their order. And he’s right; as soon as he sits down, she scoots closer and wraps her arm across her husband’s body, resting her head on his chest.

“Tired?” Harry looks down to her, kissing the top of her head.

YN nods before she lets out a yawn. “Very.”

“Take a little nap then,” Harry suggests. His fingers brushing her hair subconsciously because he always does it whenever she’s close to him. He knows how much she loves it when he does that. “I’ll wake you up when the food gets here.”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” YN says before sitting up and pinches Harry’s belly.

“Oi!” Harry exclaims, rubbing the spot that she’s just pinched playfully. “What was that for?”

“My workmate found your post-it!” YN grumbles and Harry instantly bursts out laughing.

It started with YN’s obsession with a post-it. She always writes little notes and put them literally everywhere. Most of them are in her work files, but if you open up her collections of books and even magazines, it’s most likely that you’ll find them too. Quotes that she finds on the page, recommendations of places or things from magazines, important things from work, she writes down everything.

So one day, Harry wrote something for her on a post-it and slipped it into her handbag. Then YN wanted revenge and she began to leave little surprises for her husband as well. In his car, his pocket, the back of his iPad, in his suitcase, everywhere she could think of.

And today is no different. This morning when YN was preparing a quick breakfast for him, Harry cheekily wrote down ‘Wanna break our record this weekend?’ on a post-it and slipped it into her files.

“Who?” Harry asks her, still laughing.

YN tries to keep her straight face to make it seems that she’s annoyed but Harry knows she secretly loves it. “Luke.”

“Which one again is he?” His eyebrows knit together, trying to remember his face. The name sounds familiar to him.

“Dark hair, green eyes. The one with a white button-up shirt at my office’s family gathering last summer. D’you remember? You talked to him.”

“Ah!” Harry exclaims when he remembers the guy that his wife is talking about. “The fit one?”

YN giggles and nods. “The really fit one.”

“Good then,” he replies. “Now he knows you’re married.”

YN rolls her eyes comically. “I’m married to Harry Styles. I think even Obama knows I’m married.”

“Tha’ Harry Styles you’re talking about,” Harry starts. “Is he cute?”

“Eh, he’s fine,” YN says teasingly. “Got a bit of a belly but I love it. Think he’s carrying our baby.”

“Oh, is it a girl or a boy?” Harry jokes.

“I don’t know yet but probably both,” YN giggles. “Think we’re having twins.”

Harry gasps. “How big is the belly?!”

YN laughs even harder and Harry pulls her closer to him again as he laughs as well, cuddling her. “Don’t make me laugh, I wanna take a nap.”

“Alright, alright, c’mere,” he says, playing with her hair. He wants to keep quiet but he can’t help himself. “Y’smell so good.”

“Ssh,” YN whines. “I’m trying to sleep.”

“Sleep,” Harry lets out a little chuckle and kisses the top of her head. “I’ll wake you up when the naan gets here.”

#harry #harry styles #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fics #harry styles fanfiction #harry x y/n #harry x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #husband!harry #harry styles imagines

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the-headbop-wraith · 4 years

Text

1 _ 22 Truss and Silhouette

Waiting and patience where two hard traits to master. Arthur was well versed in the methods of both, he was careful by nature and he had nothing he really looked forward to when waiting. These attributes where challenging for Vivi, who always found a way to pass the time if they were on the road headed in some direction. But patience for a specific time to come, and hurrying to do nothing for the duration until that specific time; that was another matter. Vivi could become too excited, especially when there was no matter to toil over for the here and not soon enough to be.

The temperature continued to drop at an increasing rate, until it was so cold Vivi could hardly stand it herself. She didn’t know how Arthur could manage it, him being sleeveless and stubborn on the subject of a good coat. She could sympathize with his reluctance of sleeves, but it seemed like the excuse of covering up his prosthetic for the few cold months would outweigh the negatives. Arthur couldn’t hide from her the discomfort he felt when people stared too long at his arm, but there was a multitude of reasoning and rational rattling around in his mind that she would never begin to comprehend. She couldn’t trample that.

She moved back to the driver side seat and curled up, staring out the window and into the contrast of tangling tree branches jutting across the pale sidewalk that encircled the park. There was wifi and she had splurged on that for a short time, until the laptops battery gave out. She didn’t keep track of how many ways she enhanced and fooled around with that one picture she took earlier that day. She had done other things, such as probed into other rumors but none had been as firm, had the same feeling as that little restaurant they had eaten at earlier. There was only one chance, it was very slim, but it was still there. A chance.

“I wonder where he goes sometimes,” Vivi murmured. No answer, but for the halt of metal twittering and clicking in the back. “I don’t really worry, I should probably, but I don’t feel like I have to. You and Galaham the same way.” The clatter and delicate work renews, and she can see the pale shadow on the ceiling of the van just above the seats back.

“I kind of forget to worry about Galahad,” Arthur admits. “It’s terrible, because I should. I trust my uncle with him and everything, but anything can happen to a lil dude if you’re not around.” He pondered over it as Vivi shifted again, this time perching her legs over the head rest of the driver seat. “Capable. That’s what I’ll say. I know Galaham’s capable of taking care of himself, you know Mystery’s the same. Worrying about them doesn’t fit into that.”

Vivi made a sound as she lay in the seat, her head pressed back into the curve of the steering wheel. “But anything can happen.”

“Anything always happens, and will happen. Trying to fight it is pointless.” Arthur set down his tools and studied the portions of the incomplete arm, still insect like with long bundles of wire hanging from the elbow. “The things I lack control seem pointless to worry over, when I don’t seem to have an immediate influence.” He looked up and was startled to see Vivi’s glasses gleaming in the light, from the bright glow of the lamp seated beside him while he worked. She watched him over the seats back with that odd, unreadable expression.

“You’re deep, Art,” Vivi said. “Did you realize that?”

A moment passed as Arthur tried to register what she had muttered, then he chortled. “I… had a lot of time to think.” He fixed his sight back on the prosthetic and did some unnecessary work. There was progress made but it didn’t feel like progress, it felt empty and only looked interesting. He gave up and collected the metal and motors, set them back in their box and opened up the compartment in the carpeted floor. Inside sat stacks of old books, maybe forgotten by Vivi but she had never wanted to part with them in the first place. He set his supplies and tools among the clutter and shut the door down.

“One day we should put a camera on Mystery’s collar, and just see where he goes,” Vivi suggests. Arthur brought a blanket with him as he slipped down into the passenger seat. “It’s still too early.” Arthur sighed and bundled up tighter. Vivi began to speak, but Arthur cut in saying:

I don’t need a coat, I am fine.”

Vivi huffed and spun around in her seat. She didn’t mind the cold. “Fine. But I was going to ask, what kind of fruit you would be if you could choose.”

Arthur hiccupped and sat up in his tight coil of blankets. “What?”

“I already know I’d be a blueberry,” Vivi stated. Soft scratching mingled at the metal door, and Vivi unlocked the latch and opened the door for Mystery. “But what would you be? A banana?” She scooted aside and gave the dog room to leap up onto the driver seat with her. “Mystery would be a coconut.”

“A coconut is not a type of fruit,” Arthur grumbled. “It’s a nut. Wait… I think? It’s kind of big.”

Mystery cocked his head at Arthur, then looked at Vivi. He left them for an hour, and this is what he came back to? Vivi smoothed Mystery’s ruffled hair back. He looked at her and lapped at the few stray strands of hair poking out from under Vivi’s hairband. I don’t understand.

“I’d be a horned melon,” Arthur announced. “Those things are cool.”

“Horned melon?” Vivi questioned. “I’ve never seen one.”

“If we ever go into a none haunted grocery store, I’ll show you,” he said. “Maybe.” Arthur watched Mystery crawl closer to him and lay over the side of his blanket. “I hear they taste like banana, anyway.”

“As long as its banana themed,” Vivi replied. She unfolded from her curled position on the seat and twisted the key in the ignition. She made sure to turn the heater vents on Arthur and turn the heat up full blast, despite his disapproving glares. She didn’t care. Whenever she could directly interfere with his self-appointed misery with little protest, she would do so if only to annoy him.

The hour was getting late, it would be midnight in less than forty-five minutes. She turned to the outdated box monitor and scrolled through the long list of orders, most paid over card, some on credit, and the rest in cash. She added that to the iPad on the desk, and made a second note on the hard paper notebook on the counter. She checked the time on the iPad again and sighed. Outside, a car or two would whoosh by the window every other minute, solidifying perception of the late hour.

“You almost ready?” the voice called. She leaned back off the counter and looked to the tall teen as he came from the door to the back room, blue stained to his white apron and a white towel draped over his thin shoulder. “I just finished cleaning the stoves, and the inventories logged for tomorrow.” He crossed behind the pastry cases and looked into the glassed interior with the many cakes and cookies in their dark rows.

“Almost,” she said. “Half a page more. Could you replace the disk in the camera?” She plucked her purse off the counter and handed it over.

He folded his towel and set it on the counter beside his mom, then took her purse and plucked out the keys that were just inside. He wanted to tell her about the hits he’d gotten already on the video segment he uploaded, but his mom would just think it was ridiculous that people had actually clicked it. He gave a little skip as he crossed to the pantry cabinet beside the back door, and opened the tall case where the closed circuit camera was hidden on a shelf. The purse hung loose over his lower arm, while he stopped and ejected the disk. In the purse was a disk case, with the new disk to be exchanged for the new one.

A muffled song came from the purse, and he reached in to pluck out the small phone his mother insisted was practical and therefore perfect. “Hello?” he answered, as he locked up the cabinet. “Sorry, I wanted to go ahead and scrub under the stoves….” He stopped and listened to the voice. “I will. Mm-hm. Love ya.” He stuffed the phone and disk away, then tossed the purse onto the counter beside the heavy set woman. “Dad says he’s been waiting for ‘dramatic emphasis’ an hour. Also, he wants one of those ‘Aztec Éclairs’ if they’re still any.”

“Ooh,” she cooed, and shut down the large box monitor. “Lucky him, there is one left. But we’re going to share that little delight.” She folded the iPad up and stuffed it into her purse, and slung the strap over her shoulder.

He took off his apron and folded it up. “Y’know Bridget was lying. She can’t cook, much less an éclair.” He took a wax bag from the box on top of the glass counter and folded it over his hand. On the glass counter was a large glass dome, typical of most pastry shops, this featured a small note card with the ‘special’ of the day. His mother approached with a white paper bag, and he folded up the little chocolate stained pastry and set it inside.

“We’ll just let her have this victory for now,” his mother said. “There’s no reason to spoil her fun. Ready?” He nods, and tucks his apron under his arm. “Back door locked?”

“And the outside gate,” he assured.

They exit the little space behind the pastry counter and cross to the far side of the restaurant. His mother unlocks the glass door and steps out into the night, while he reaches out to the light switch—

And paused.

A faint, ambiguous creak emitted somewhere in the room. He turns and stares back across the shaded tables and chairs, and struggles to see into the dim corners where dark shades tangle. He watched one of the mirrors on the wall as its glossy surface trembles, but there is nothing in the reflective surface but a section of the restaurant and the wall behind the counter. He shrugs as the cold breeze from outside tickles his neck, and he flips off the light and leaves the empty restaurant to join his family.

The minutes tick by, taking ownership in small clusters as the absence of vigor settled in. Then an hour came by with a steady click or crack of the immovable walls, and swallowed up the collection of time in second strokes. It was almost appealing to sit and wait and reflect on the pieces that had lost meaning, on the cracks that marred a perfect picture. Sometimes it felt good to recall the lost shards of what must have been a distant past, but in the same flurry of emotion he felt the resentment for loosing such precious moments. All things taken for granted, mourned only now when they were no longer his.

He smashed his fist back onto the wall at his back, and felt the solid structure and imposing stature. He wanted to burn it, drag it out of the world that had left him. Make it understand. But a wall was as immovable in nature as it was in physical structure, and anything building on his own personal regret would not make a wall sympathize with him.

It struck Lewis how reminiscing could drag out old want and desires, but it didn’t strike him as odd. That should have been a first note of warning for him but he didn’t have the sharpness to care, not when his thoughts returned to his mansion, his sanctuary. It was not often he longed for it, but when he did he felt the hollowness burn into his core and essence, as though a crucial piece to his existence had been abolished. In these times he felt a bitter resentment, though he knew this wasn’t fair. He couldn’t shake the feelings though, they were branded deep into whatever passed for his ethereal essence.

He shouldn’t be here. He should have left a long time ago. But it was difficult to roam and move without a strong sense of destination locked in his thoughts. He didn’t want to get lost again.

Not much was said between them while they waited. The hours ticked by, even when Vivi was certain she had seen the truck of the owners drive off. She parked the van down the street from the soup and bakery. Beside her leg was Mystery, keeping warm as she stroked the soft mane on his back, even though the cold didn’t bother Vivi as much as it did Arthur. Occasionally she would murmur something to the dog, and Mystery would perk a ear or lift his eye brow at her curiously. Vivi was anxious to move but she knew it was too soon.

It would have been nice if Arthur could have lit the lamp in the back, but he settled for the dull haze of the yellow lamp from the street side, shading through the windshield with its meager orangey hue. The light catches over the clean side of the metal of his thumb, and the silver clashes over the tarnished surface of the locket. He remembered the morning following when Lewis failed to reappear, Vivi was in the bathroom while he gathered his cloths. The bundle popped out with one of his shirts and at the sight of the rich color of the satin cloth, it had made his knees go weak and he had fallen hard to the floor.

What was his game? If Arthur was meant to hand the locket over to Vivi, as he had originally intended, why didn’t Lewis just do it himself? Or was there another motive at work? The ghost might have fallen into some kind of trouble, but Arthur knew without a doubt if that were the case Lewis would have gone straight to Vivi. But Vivi wasn’t meant to have the locket, or was she? Since the mansion – like a far off nightmare – Lewis hadn’t made the attempt to hand her the locket since. It was Lewis’ anchor, that’s as far as Arthur concluded about it. If he were more ambitious he might’ve tried to exorcise Lewis, but Arthur didn’t have that kind of strength mentally or spiritually. But he felt that might’ve been a rational why he wound up with the locket, and he couldn’t blame Lewis for his suspicions.

He ran his thumb along the crease in the side and. Not for the first time, he was curious to open it and see what was inside. But he couldn’t do that, he didn’t know if the locket would stay in one piece if he fiddled with it too much, he didn’t understand it. He shouldn’t even be messing with it. There was no mistake made by Lewis when he left the locket in Arthur’s bag, but Arthur didn’t understand the implications.

If Lewis was still around. That remained an inference. Arthur was skilled at debunking supernatural photography, but he refused to study the picture Vivi had taken.

“Are you ready?” Vivi asks, as she leans up to look into the back.

Arthur bundles the heirloom up carefully and stuffs it back into his pocket. He pulls the blanket tighter over his shoulders as he shuffles to the front seat, and takes Vivi by the shoulder when she pulls at the door handle.

“I should go in alone,” Arthur utters. Vivi turns in her seat to face him, Mystery tilts his head back to view Arthur. “I’ll talk to him, if I can. This whole mess is my fault anyway.”

“No, it’s not,” Vivi states. “You’re not going in there on your own and that’s final.”

Arthur averts his eyes. “Vi, we haven’t really been on our own together,” he murmurs. “Since the mansion. Never. Until, that bogus case.”

It hits Mystery first, though he had been keenly observant of their unconscious habits, he had not been aware of the oblivious tendencies of his companions. He whined at Vivi as she set her hand over his snout, and he nuzzled her palm.

“It was my mistake,” Vivi pressed. “I should have been paying attention – I got caught up in.. everything – the euphoria, the excitement. Us, together as a group like old times.” She stopped there and chewed on her bottom lip, peeling off the miniscule scab there. Mystery crossed his paws over her lap and leaned up, trying to convey some kind of sound without whimpers. “I’m sorry for a lot of things, Art, and it’s not fair that you should be the one to go in.” If they stopped for a break Arthur would go off to browse the shelves, but never made a purchase. He volunteered to run the errands or buried himself in the work on his new prosthetic. She swung her arm over the driver seat’s headrest and faced Arthur. “I wouldn’t go in without you or Mystery, it’s the same. We’re doing this together.”

“It’s not.” Arthur folded his arms over the middle seat and rested his chin over his cold arms. “Sometimes I think about those crazy jobs we had, even the none paranormal ones.” He sighed and watched the empty street stretching ahead, the cold glisten of light layered over the thin traces of fresh rain. “A lot of times I thought, ‘This is it. I’ve done it now. I can’t get out of this,’ and I was scared. Some loon in a mask, a low kilter spirit, someplace I wasn’t meant to stumble into – I was really bad at that. Most times I flat out gave up, I’m not ashamed of it. I couldn’t figure how I could get out of the deep shit I had gotten into.” Arthur rubbed his face on the loose sleeve of his shirt and glanced at Vivi. Her face was focused but vacant, as if trying to chase memories that had been lifted out of her grasp. “But more times than I can remember there was Lewis, at the right moment to get in the way, or drop a sack of beans.” He gurgled a low chuckle in his throat. “He had this innate way of catching up when it all… it all seemed hopeless.” He shut his eyes and tried not to envision that person standing there, and that clear unaltered voice that came with it:

“Arthur, I swear. How do you manage this?”

He reached down with his metal arm and gave Mystery’s ear a gentle scratch. “I should save him for once, even if it’s from himself. I owe him.”

Vivi hesitates, but nods. “We won’t follow.” Mystery pulls his head from Arthur’s hand and sets his head down on his paws and sighs.

“I’ll try not to be gone long.” Arthur drags his way into the back of the van, dropping his blankets as he moves across the floor, but stops when he reaches the back doors. He grabs his provision bag and knows Vivi must’ve heard his movement, but she doesn’t comment. He shuts the doors gently behind him and dashes up the street, toward the darkened windows of the small soup shop.

Vivi feels a small bud of panic in her chest but tries to stay calm. Arthur fades into the shadows, and it feels as if she’s already lost him too. There is no way to gauge what sort of condition Lewis will be in, even if it was only a short amount time that he was separated from them. It was a fear that had persisted in her since the mansion, she couldn’t find it in her to pair the two up when they went off on investigations. She did have a longing desire for restoring and reacquainting herself to someone that she had loved… was it deeply? Passionately? But there was that underlining fear was always there, always lingering in the back of her memories. It wasn’t fair.

“Mystery,” she mumbled, as she curled up into her seat and pinned her chin to her knees. “Why didn’t I do things different? What can I do?”

The dog whines and sits up to press his shoulder into Vivi’s and leans on her. You’re doing everything you can, they’re just being idiots. He rests his neck over her shoulder and snuggles close to her.

There was a back door into the restaurant, right off from the parking lot that was situated between the two buildings – an office complex and the restaurant. Arthur saw it earlier that day, and he expected the gate that entered into the small compound to be locked. He didn’t bother with the lock in the gate, it would be easier to just climb the tall fence, especially when there was no barbed wire at the top.

He dropped onto the top of the plastic dumpster lid and from there leapt down into the grease stained payment, the off scent of spoiled vegetables and bad dairy assaulted his nose. Arthur slung his backpack off over one arm and opened the zipper a bit, enough to get his good hand in. He didn’t need light to fish around, but the steady gleam of an overhead lamp gave him enough visibility to view his surroundings. Everything was done professionally, as he sought the gloves and packet from his backpack, he ran in his mind over all the information Vivi had given him. They did these sort of jobs… a little too often.

A pair of tight fitting gloves went over both his hands. His prosthetic left no finger prints, but a diligent detective could always distinguish irregularities between fingerprints. He slung his bag over his shoulders and went along the hard slate wall, until he found the white door. It had two locks, a deadbolt and hand knob. No problem. He leaned his shoulder into the door and fumbled with the small packet, his lock pick kit. The deadbolts were always easier for Arthur to treble, but the sappy hand knobs always gave him trouble. This didn’t make since, but if he was ever desperate enough he could always just snap the doorknob off.

The interior was dark and cloudy, the hall narrow and smelled thickly of cleaning fluids and rust. Arthur didn’t bother with the light, he pulled the door shut behind him and crept through the small room, the basic layout carved by the vague edges of shadows remained fresh in his mind. A low hum filled the janitorial room, some kind of machine or generator, he wasn’t sure. He put his good arm out and felt the surface of a wall, then the frame of the door. He had a little more trouble finding the handle in the door, only because it was lower than he expected and he kept missing it.

He sniffed at the air that washed over his face and pushed the door a little more as he entered into the kitchen. The lingering traces of vegetables and other foods remained, such as crackers and meat, beside the warm aroma of pastries and sweets. He stood for a moment in the doorway gazing at the glittering silver from a distant light, or maybe a memory.

”Arthur! Hello kiddo. You keeping Lewis out of trouble?”

There were stoves along one wall, countertops in the center. His feet sounded hollow on the floor, their echo reverberated for years over the walls. The metal felt icy through his gloves, he pressed his fingers into the surface and raised his other hand to his forehead and tried to ease out the ache in his mind. “I- I’m sorry. How many ways can I say it?”

”I know you’re not into spicy things, hon. So I made you this. It has a tangy aftertaste, but its sweet, pleasant, and not hot at all. Give it a try.”

He shivered and dropped to his knees. He hadn’t realized how cold it was. It had gotten so cold too fast. Arthur brought his metal hand to his chest and held it there as his heart pulsed, his mind tripped and clawed within his skull. “I couldn’t stop… I tried, I swear.” Arthur choked on his words and bowed his head down, cowering from the haunting voices in his mind. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. It wasn’t—”

“Take care of our son.”

He never went back.

It didn’t benefit him to go into just any shop, or place. Lewis didn’t fully understand but he had a gist of it, what it meant. He did get hopelessly lost when he wandered, the same way he did when he first awoke. Wandering. Is that why spirits became so lost and confused, something about corporal sense, the binding Vivi always spoke about. He reached his hand up reflexively to touch the heart there, but then recalled that he had given it up and the notion brought about a deep sense of despair, though he wasn’t sure what pained him more. Which decisions he feared, or which ones he regretted most.

The call had frightened him, and he had fled that place, those memories, what was left behind. Odd, how he thought he could run away, or venture to a specific destination that in all spiritual theory did not exist. But it wasn’t what he sought that compelled him, it was the thing he couldn’t release. He didn’t try to overthink these things, even at his most active. To him it felt wrong, maybe it was, probably wasn’t, but to him it felt wrong. Like he betrayed some bitter serenity he had found.

He again looked to the mirror on the wall. The suit, his ribs, ribs that should not be exposed, a vacant neck collar, and a skull. Lewis stepped back as the mirror cracked, jagged webs of magenta flared through the gleaming surface and the glass scatters beneath his suspended feet. Oops. He raised his fist to melt the frame as well, but a sharp bolt in his kinematic range caught his attention. He drew his fist back and spins himself to the door that led into the back room. He recognized that jagged sense of distortion anywhere and Lewis debated on pursuing it or keep his distance.

“C’mon Lew, don’t let me just wander around and talk to myself,” Arthur muffled voice raised, echoing, beyond those doors.

Lewis glides to the door that opened into the back room and was about to push it open, but he decides to simply slip through. He moves along the nearest wall lined with tall cabinets, his attention set on Arthur at the opposite end of the room. One of Arthur’s hands was gripped to the side of a cold stove set into the wall, his other hand was pressed to his brow.

“I can see why you came here,” Arthur says. He pushes away from the stove and weaves among the countertop islands, straining to peer through the shadows, his metal hand rests on the corner of a counter and he uses its stability to guide his shaky steps. He jumps a bit to a subtle tap, what sounds like the pots or dishes hanging on the racks at the wall clatter softly. He listens, but there’s no other sound aside from the dull hum of the machine. He spins around and stumbles back, but there is nothing in the open air. “Jeez.” He raises his hands and presses the cold gloved palms into his eyelids. “I just want to talk. Just give me a sign if you’re listening or not, I don’t care.” The dull rumble of the machine mocked him, and Arthur sighed.

“Hate me all you want, Lew. I can’t fault you for that. I know….” He paused, and thought over his words. “I didn’t want to. You know I couldn’t help it! I tried, god I tried. I knew I couldn’t stop, I don��t know what I was thinking, but it wasn’t – It wasn’t me, Lew! Why won’t you understand that? Maybe you can’t, I know… I know I don’t.” Arthur drew in a deep breath and brought one hand down, his flesh arm, to the countertop and kept his knees from buckling under his weight. His head ached, that harsh rasping in his thoughts. “It’s not just for Viv-vi, but I want to talk again. I swear… if we just talked, I know it’s not gonna fix what broke between us but – We… drifted apart.” He shook his head, and lowers his voice. “I pushed you… away. Don’t let me do it again. I can’t take this.”

Arthur ran a hand over his face and tugged at his goatee at his chin. He gave the room a brief scan, gathering in the calm gloom, the engine hummed obnoxiously. He groaned, despair leaking into his lungs. “I promised Viv I’d come back with you.” Promises in their group didn’t really work out, Arthur couldn’t figure out why they kept making that same mistake over and over. “What am I saying?” No sound answered, his voice echoed

He slipped the backpack off his shoulders and opened it up. He checked the surface of the countertop before he pulled out a candlestick. The lighter he bought was still in his, overlooked by Vivi. Arthur didn’t care, he lit the short wick of the candlestick and let the wax melt at the tip, so he could fix the candle to a spot on the countertop with the warm wax. He took a piece of graphite and pondered a moment, debating on a script that would work, he couldn’t hope to use the stronger runes but maybe it didn’t need to be compelling. He didn’t think it would work anyway.

He scrawled into the surface of a plastic cutting board, its top crisscrossed and stained by extensive use. It seemed to fit Lewis. Circles and sharp angles decorated the board, Arthur set the black polished graphite aside and reached into his pocket, he brought out the satin cloth and the locket contained. He unwrapped the cloth and studies the bronze coloration under the pale candlelight, the harsh contrast of the metal conflicts with the old gloves he wore. He set the locket in one of the circles and gave the room a last glimpse with his eyes, while the flame burned bright.

“I call out for Lewis Pepper,” Arthur spoke, voice unsteady. He didn’t feel like he was doing it right, he didn’t feel like he was allowed to do this. It had to violate something, but he didn’t want to overthink it. “I beseech you to reveal yourself, Lewis Pepper. I know this is really underhanded, but damnit, you leave me no choice.” He placed his hand over the locket and raised his eyes. “We’re not losing you again! I call upon you with all my heart and soul, Lewis Pepper. Show—”

“Boo.”

After the first five minutes Vivi lost track of time, but she kept resolute to Arthur’s wishes. She was nervous but didn’t want to admit it. Had Arthur made contact? Was he all right? She worried and fidgeted, and Mystery had placed his paws upon her hands and made soft dog sounds until she calmed down. He was a strange friend, but he continued to reassure her, despite his shared concerns. Alternately, she or he would check the driver side window, see no one, and settle back.

The night waned onward, until Vivi could no longer keep her eyes open. She curled up into the seat, and Mystery had brought to the front with them one of the blankets from the back and piled it over Vivi. Mystery coiled himself over Vivi’s side, and Vivi tried not to sleep. She wasn’t sure if she had or not, she thought she saw memories of when they were younger – she, Mystery, Lewis, and Arthur. Going down to the spooky creek, picking flowers (something Lewis liked to do, and Vivi enjoyed it), hanging out with Arthur at his uncle’s shop. She thought there was a raven once tapping at her window, as she sat in her room reading. It became irritating when the bird wouldn’t leave, and whenever she chased it off it came back

Vivi jarred from her dry rest and raised her head, her face collided with she sharp cold air that hovered in the van as the sleep clung to her eyes. She gazed at the driver side window and saw a bird with glossy black wings and a white face tapping at the glass.

“Is she asleep?” That was Arthur’s voice, muffled through metal and glass. She recognized the way it carried through the door. The sounds slip away, she wanted to stay with them but it was hard to see past the dark mirror in her memories.

“Just let her sleep,” Lewis said. He stood aside as Arthur fumbled with his pockets, and finally produced that boo charm keyring. “I’ll talk to her in the morning when the suns out.” He hesitates as Arthur unlocks the door and pulls the latch. “And there are witnesses.” Arthur chortles softly to himself and steps aside, the dull orange glaze of the streetlamp glistened over Arthur’s metal arm in his short walk to the back doors of the van. Lewis watched Arthur’s progress until the other ducked out of sight, the clatter of keys raised at the back doors of the van and the more audible thud of Arthur’s prosthetic. A soft whimper came from Vivi at the intrusion of sound, though Arthur was doing his best to be quiet, Lewis was sure. He glanced to Vivi buried down under a dark blue blanket. “I’m sorry, mi arandano.” Lewis leaned forward and brushed some of the soft blue hair out of her face, and set his palm onto her forehead. “I’m not your burden.”

Vivi stirs and mumbled some incoherent sound, Lewis was almost certain it was a Latin phrase. It isn’t long before Vivi settled down and Lewis is able to slip her away from Mystery, out off the driver side seat. “Lew’s?” she murmurs, eyes opening blearily at the suspended skull.

Lewis bundles the blanket around her tighter and moves along the van to the back doors. “Close your eyes,” he hums. “And I’ll be there.”

The van creaks as Arthur plops down in the front seat and maneuvers to draw the open driver side door shut, without a sound. Mystery gives a small grunt when Arthur bumps his nose while thumping around in the front seat. Aside from that mild interruption, the dog doesn’t stir to greet the return of his friends. Mystery gives a sly glare Arthur’s way, before twisting over onto his side.

“Did you mean to get caught in the camera?” Arthur questions, without looking up. He debated driving the van somewhere else, back to the park, but he could barely see straight let alone coordinate his prosthetic adequately.

Lewis set Vivi on the floor of the van and leans back, pondering. “Camera,” he echoes. “Camera. When was there a camera?” Arthur looked into the vans back and found the skulls ember eyes, confused and uncertain, despite how the sharp edges of black contrasted over the bleached white. It didn’t sit well with Arthur.

“Vi swears by the camera,” Arthur mentions, instead. “Long story short, that’s how we found you.”

Lewis mulled it over as he swung the back doors shut. The creak of those doors compressing on the dry atmosphere of the van was subdued and irritating, it didn’t suit his desires. He wanted to feel as if the doors were secure and they would hold off any shape of intruder, the curious or the dangerous. “I just needed some distance,” the spirit says, voice crackling. “Time to… think.” Lewis raised his hand to the front of his coat where the gentle thrum of his locket pulsed. Its return was indescribable, even if he had left it of his own will. Or was it involuntary? He might’ve been compelled too, by a force stronger than his passion and desire. He didn’t want to rationalize that. The mental contradiction was almost a physical pang.

“I meant what I said,” Lewis began. He spun himself and looked at Vivi curled deep within her blanket. Carefully, he reached down to her face for the small lensed glasses and slipped them off. He gave the colorful spectacles a brief study, before folding them up and placing them within reach at the side of the vans wall.

“So did I,” Arthur muttered. He pressed his lips into the bench seat and focused on Lewis, on the ribs, the bright contrast and hues of his ethereal outline, melting into the black space of his surroundings as the looming figure rotates in place. “I wasn’t selling short,” he insists, voice low and rough. “Honest. In the mansion, I was ready.” He shut his eyes when Lewis tilts his skull. “And you were gonna do it too, you just…. Maybe we should drop it.”

A soft crackle emitted from Lewis, as he lowered down more onto the vans floor. Some crumpled box in plastic caught his lost interest, and he plucked it up. “We can always talk,” Lewis offered.

“Oh,” was Arthur’s toneless response. “Right. But… it’s hard to translate the stuff in my head. Always has been.” He hadn’t lain back on the seat yet. The blanket he had dragged with him was tangled around his legs and waist while his good arm prodded the latch behind his metal arm. Droplets of rain misted over the windshield of the van, causing the light to distort into jagged shapes and oblong, glittery jelly beans. He watched a few drops grow larger and wider before they connected and rolled down the glass in a crystalline thread. “One of these days.” He pulled the switch and tensed. The cold air made it worse, it seemed to amplify the sharp prick that traveled up his spine. Arthur jerked the immobilized arm free and slung it up onto the dashboard, a mild hope that the morning sun would warm it before he was driven to reattach it.

Lewis wanted to say something more, but whatever way he phrased it the words resounded in his thoughts, accusing. Arthur’s head slunk down out of sight, and Lewis judged he would be left to his own mediations for the brief/infinite span of the night.

There were decisions but they had no choices. A choice was a possession but a decision was an action, both were powerful tools if given the right sort of labels.

“I’m more afraid of the emptiness that’s left in your absence.”

That’s how Arthur put it. It would be hard to go onward and find their routine, their semblance of normality. Arthur knew why he came back – the sort of personal business Lewis had not made amends with, what lines he had left purposefully blank. Vivi had gotten in the way.

No, that wasn’t true. She could never be in the way. She brought clarity, focus, and guidance. All things Lewis was lost without and hadn’t known he’d been missing. It was amazing what you miss when you didn’t realize it’s been lost. That was why this was hardest on Vivi and Lewis was mortified that he had distanced himself in this way. But, he knew she’d give him what was coming when she awoke.

He was not looking forward to that.

Lewis could enjoy the hours that she was tranquil. He knelt closer beside Vivi and pulled the edges of the blanket up around her shoulders. Vivi shifts and made a sound that might’ve been pickles, or tickles. Lewis wanted to feel the smile on his face, but maybe later when he had settled down. Much-much later.

The random patter of rain danced over the roof of the van, raising in acoustic ferocity and then tapering off into a faint hiss. Lewis studied the roof and the windshield, coated with a thin layer of moisture. He raised himself from the floor and half stepped, mostly glides as he moved to take his post behind the bench seat, where he usually lost himself while the others rested. He pulled up short when the end of his coat tail was snagged.

“Lew?” Vivi uttered, voice heavy and groggy. Lewis spun his skull to view Vivi. She sat on her knees, one fist rubbed at her eye while the other pulled at his coat. “You’re back?” She shouldn’t be awake, but Lewis really shouldn’t be surprised either. “Are you hurt?”

“No?” Lewis lowered more into her eye level and dipped his skull to his suit collar. “It’s almost morning,” he whispered, the sound of his voice twittered. “You should go back to sleep and rest while you can.”

Vivi withdrew her hand and rubbed at her shoulders under the thick sweater - cold or discomfited, Lewis couldn’t judge. “You left.”

“I’m back now,” he assured. Lewis reached his hands out to her but stopped himself. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” He didn’t want to say Promise.

There came the contemplative pause, and Vivi nurtured it where she sat without comment. The rain gently chattered over the vans roof, a cage to bar out the unwise, the wicked, those that were desperate enough to be out in the harsh veil of frigid water. Vivi brought her hands up to her face. She would have done this even if she were wearing her glasses, and pressed her fingertips into her eyelids. Lewis waited, feeling bitterness toward himself. “It’s really cold,” she murmured. “Could you just rest with me, for a change?” Lewis didn’t move. Vivi slides her hands down her face and looks up into his eye sockets. “I don’t want to wake up and you’re not there.”

That other side of him was scared. The fragments of him that remembered Vivi, and let her cool waves crash over his fever driven fire. Maybe in time, if Lewis just gave himself a little more time, the indecision and doubt would clear away. It wouldn’t confuse him, and he would begin to find this balance in this niche among friends, where once he had been forgotten. But he didn’t need to concern himself over those bits and pieces that scattered in his grasp, he only needed to know he was wanted and needed.

“I’ll be here,” Lewis’ voice crackled. He couldn’t promise, but he knew he would be. He lowers down beside Vivi and put his arms around her, and she leans onto his chest as he lies down.

She mumbles some incomprehensible words, and Lewis rattles with confusion. “I said,” she whispered, “don’t think I’m just letting you off easy.”

It takes a moment for the words to register in Lewis’ thoughts, and the embers dim in his eye sockets as he settles his skull over Vivi’s bright hair. He coils his arms around her and soothed out his thoughts, distancing each reflection from his solidified state of presiding existence. “Have mercy on anyone that tries to tear me away,” Lewis crooned into her hair.

Vivi sniggers, and buries her face in his chest. “I missed you,” she said, her fingers tightening on his suit collar.

“I don’t know if I deserve you,” Lewis hummed. But Vivi was already beyond the point of no return, her arms loose against his coat lapels and her breathing so subtle Lewis could scarcely detect it. “Please.” He coiled himself around Vivi’s smaller frame, shielding her from the cold air and the dark shadows that pricked at his coat edges – impenetrable, steady, and wholly present. “Forgive me.” He let the mild purr of his voice carry into something more human, and harmonized it into tender hymns. The gentle trill never faltered as the hours crawled by, calculated in obscure notion by the passive thrum of Vivi’s heart. Though he could make himself appear almost human, almost alive, the heavy rhythm within his chest was something he could not artifice. But for this meager span of time in the present, Lewis could be content to hold Vivi close to him and feel her heart beat through his soul.

#msa #mystery skulls fanfic #mystery skulls animated #msa fanfic #mystery skulls fanfiction #msa fanfiction #msa lewis #msa arthur #msa vivi #msa mystery #mystery skulls ghost

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jlalafics · 5 years

Text

“Rent Control”-Epilogue

We’re here! I can’t tell you how much fun I had writing this!

Anyway, I plan to put this on FFn and AO3 some time next week so you can read the whole thing uninterrupted.

Also, just to warn you. This is LONG.

If you haven’t read the other parts, follow the links below:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Summary: Katniss Everdeen has found the perfect home in San Francisco—great neighborhood, an easy commute and, best of all, it’s rent controlled. There’s only one problem; the landlord will only rent to a married couple.

Enter Peeta Mellark.

_____

Rent Control

Epilogue: One Year Later

“Rue, I want the buffet to go here.” Katniss pointed to the back of the space, adjacent to the living wall. “Presents will go on the round table that we’re setting up at the entrance. The table linens are coming with Annie and Finnick—I found them at this awesome vintage shop in Oakland. They’ll be great if we ever decide to have any other special events…” She turned to the young girl. “Anything else that I’m missing?”

Rue chuckled as she ticked things off the iPad she carried in her hands.

“How about breathing? Seems like you missed it during that entire conversation.”

“Very funny, smartass,” Katniss retorted though she smiled fondly at the girl. “Sometimes I wonder why Peeta and I hired you.”

“Because I am the S-H-I-T…and because I can make a kickass Kouign-amann,” Rue replied, her grin just as affectionate towards Katniss.

Katniss nodded. “True.” She took a deep breath. “I just want everything to be perfect tomorrow for them. They’ve waited for so long…”

“It’s going to be great,” Rue assured her. “Now, you need to relax…have you even eaten?”

“No, just been busy and it escaped my mind.” Katniss sighed. “I could go for a cheese bun.”

Rue scrunched her nose. “Oh God—is that what you and Peeta call it now?”

“No, she’s actually really into my buns.”

Peeta appeared before them with a tray in his hand. Pressing a quick kiss to Katniss’ lips and placing the tray on an empty table, he presented her with a cheese bun which she took and began to eat with relish.

“I do love Peeta’s buns…” She winked at the man before her, cheeks full of food. “Among other things.”

Rue rolled her eyes at them. “You two disgust me. Go get a room—or an alley.”

“Now why would we do that when have those awesome mirrors Johanna gifted us in the back?” Peeta said with a smirk.

“I thought you said those were there so we could all keep an eye on each other in the kitchen!” Rue exclaimed. “Now I will never be able to make anything in there!”

“So, we’ll see you tomorrow?” Katniss asked, finishing off the rest of the bun as she wrapped an arm around Peeta’s waist.

“Yeah…but only because I really like cake!” Rue told them as she gathered her things off the counter next to her. “And, Annie’s potato salad!”

In a huff, the girl marched through the revolving door going to the back of the building.

Peeta and Katniss looked to one another, identical grins on their faces. Hand in hand, they went to the front where a long communal table stood and Peeta helped Katniss step onto the adjoining bench to sit on the wood surface before joining her.

When they were settled, they turned to one another.

“Happy Anniversary,” Peeta told her.

Katniss smiled and took his hand. “Happy Anniversary.”

Together, they turned to look out the front window of the Mellark Bakery, content in the moment and with one another.

++++++

“You won’t even tell me?” Katniss asked as she followed Peeta out of the kitchen.

“No,” he responded firmly as he went to the buffet table. Taking the piping bag, Peeta examined the three-tier cake before going to the middle tier and adding another perfect white frosting flower. “You also made me promise not to tell you.”

“You’re mean!” she responded petulantly. “See if I ever go down on you again.”

“Gross.”

Annie and Finnick, along with the rest of their brood, entered the bakery. Jack—now four—immediately went to Peeta to show him the Pokéball that he had in his grasp. Sarah and Rose dispersed to run around the bakery to which Finnick managed to wrangle one of the twins.

“Rose, we don’t run around Uncle Peeta’s bakery!” he told the girl in his arms.

“Sarah!” the one-year-old replied.

“Oops—sorry, kid,” her father replied sheepishly.

“I am so glad that we decided on that vasectomy,” Annie said as she went to hug Katniss. “Also—really gross. Why were you talking about ‘going down?’”

“Peeta won’t tell me,” Katniss informed her.

“Yeah, well that’s why we’re having this shindig—” her friend said as she placed the large bowl on the buffet table. “—so we can all find out as a family.”

“Actually…” The tips of Finnick’s ears went red. “Peeta kind of told me already.”

Annie’s brows furrowed at her husband. “Well…no head for you, either!”

“Are we interrupting something?”

Beetee stepped into the bakery along with Wiress, bright smiles on their faces.

“No, just some marital corporal punishment,” Peeta told the couple. “Speaking of which—congratulations on the engagement!” He placed a kiss on Wiress’ cheek before shaking Beetee’s hand. “Santorini must have been good for you.”

“And, check out that rock!” Katniss said after embracing Wiress.

“Beetee knew how I felt about diamonds,” Wiress explained with a gentle smile. “So, he came up with this lovely thing…and I couldn’t be more thrilled.”

“It originates from the 1920’s,” Beetee said as they stared at the ring. “The ruby is still in great shape and that design for the setting—they don’t make them like this anymore.”

“Wow…” Katniss was impressed; the ring was a work of art with its intricate carvings and a setting made to look like the ruby was the center of a golden-petaled flower.

Her gaze went from the ring to meet Peeta and she found him staring at her, a strange expression in his eyes.

Katniss could usually read him like a book—but this look was different.

“Hello! Hello!”

Everyone cheered as the celebrant entered the bakery.

Effie was glowing.

In the voluminous emerald dress, she looked like Mother Earth herself.

Well, her belly was about as round as the earth.

Haymitch followed, looking perfectly respectable in a dress shirt and slacks, his dark hair tied back.

Taking a deep breath, she looked to Peeta whose gaze went tender as he reached for her.

Together, they went to greet the soon-to-be parents.

++++++

“You two did really well,” Daphne said to Katniss and Peeta as she looked at the buffet table approvingly.

It was a great array of food; Annie’s potato salad and fried chicken—signatures from her restaurant, empanadas from a nearby Spanish restaurant, fresh salads created by Katniss’ mother, and Peeta’s three-tier cake with the ‘Hey Baby!’ topper made by Prim, who was a master calligrapher.

“We’re actually going to be partnering with Annie’s restaurant to create a new lunch dish,” Peeta said, his arm around Katniss. “Katniss thought about it. My brioche buns with Annie’s fried chicken. Robin taught Katniss how to make her slaw, so they’re pairing it with that. Should debut by the end of the month.”

“Perfect,” his mother replied. “I’ll have your father update the website to announce it.”

“I’ll take a picture when it’s out for our Instagram,” Katniss offered.

His mother beamed at Katniss. “You found yourself a good partner.”

“Don’t I know it,” Peeta agreed.

“Oh! There’s your mother,” Daphne told Katniss. “We went to Manhattan for a girls’ night and ended up backstage at Hamilton! Can you believe it? I’m going to see if she brought the pictures!”

With that, she rushed over to Katniss’ mother and the two hugged excitedly before they began to peruse Robin’s iPhone.

“That’s so creepy,” Katniss said.

Peeta grinned at her. “What? The fact that they had a girls’ night and are so far from that? Or that whenever they are with each other they become teenagers?”

“I don’t know…I didn’t think that they’d be so close…after everything,” she admitted.

Katniss looked around at the crowd of people who had come to Effie and Haymitch’s Baby Shower and Gender Reveal—the motif was a sage (and neutral) green.

A lot had changed; she was no longer at Johanna’s, instead becoming the designer for the bakery. Peeta had convinced her that it would be great for her portfolio. Together, they had come up with a cohesive design that gave the bakery its homey yet eclectic vibe. There was soft wood and greenery everywhere; there was no disposable ware, only large, thick mugs and glazed plates—very hygge.

Eventually, Katniss had transitioned into Business Manager to do the hiring. Rue was a recent graduate from the San Francisco Culinary Institute, and she couldn’t come more highly recommended as a candidate for Assistant Baker. She was creative and kind, eager to learn, and they took to her immediately. She hired a few more people for front-of-house including Finch, Rue’s roommate and Thresh, who decided to follow Peeta after he quit the coffee shop.

Johanna, who was currently chatting up one of the Haymitch’s co-workers, a tall drink of water with thick-framed glasses, encouraged her to spread her wings. Prim, bored with the East Coast and longing for adventure, took Katniss’ place at the boutique and was living in the Mission District above a bar that she occasionally bartended for.

Katniss’ gaze drifted to Effie and Haymitch. Her landlords looked jubilant; Effie caressing the bump that had surprised all of them seven months ago.

The Abernathys were celebrating their anniversary at the time. Everyone had joined them for dinner in the apartment’s backyard. Wine bottles were opened, some questionable things were smoked…and by morning, the Abernathys were found under their lemon tree, covered in a picnic blanket and wearing nothing under it.

A few weeks after that, Katniss and Peeta had their grand opening.

It had gone perfectly—until Effie vomited at their front entrance.

They assured her that she was ‘christening’ their new business when, in actuality, a little peanut was currently lounging in her uterus.

It had happened—the long-awaited Abernathy child had come.

“I think it’s time for them to do the reveal,” Peeta said into Katniss’ ear.

She nodded in agreement. “Everyone’s had their fill. I’ll let Rue know to grab the cake knife in the back.”

Peeta went to the couple to lead them over to the cake that would tell them their baby’s gender.

He winked at her before guiding Haymitch and Effie away.

Then, there were herself and Peeta.

Financially and in their work lives, they were doing great.

However, after their pretend nuptials, they had gone into a standstill. They were perfectly content for a while, unmarried and living in sin.

Lately, however, she had felt a longing.

And, as Katniss looked around at their family and friends, moving along in their personal lives, she realized that she wanted more.

She wanted them to be real.

Katniss wanted to get married.

++++++

“Before our soon-to-be parents cut the cake, does anyone have guesses on the gender?” Stephen called out to the crowd.

Everyone had gathered around the cake table excitedly waiting for the cake to be cut. His mother and Robin were already taking photos on their phones of the couple as Thresh—a budding photographer—took a few shots on his old Canon. Prim was quietly taking bets; the pool was already in the mid-hundreds, and the bets went from how much Baby Abernathy would weigh to how long into labor would Effie finally snap at Haymitch for impregnating her.

“I’m pretty sure, girl or boy, it’s going to be a dick,” Peeta’s father responded with a smirk.

“Christopher!” Effie put her hands to the sides of her belly. “Not in front of my baby!”

Haymitch guffawed. “He’s got a point there. No matter what gender, he or she is coming out with a set of balls and a penchant for rebellion.”

“Well, you’re as ready as you’ll ever be,” Beetee assured them good-naturedly. “So, come on—just do it already!”

“That’s what Effie said,” Finnick cackled.

Effie looked to Jack. “Cover your eyes, sweetheart.”

The little boy followed instructions and Effie immediately flipped Finnick the bird.

“I thought you said no cursing,” Finnick retorted.

“I wasn’t speaking, I was gesturing,” Effie said testily. She whipped over to her husband. “Now give me the knife.”

“No, I think I’ll keep any weaponry for now, sweetheart,” Haymitch said.

Together, they turned to the cake, and Haymitch quickly cut into it revealing the bright blue of the delicate sponge.

There was a collective scream as everyone rushed forward to congratulate the couple.

Peeta and Katniss hung back, content to watch the jubilee by one of the posts of the bakery. His girlfriend leaned back against him and he wrapped his arms around Katniss’ waist.

“You happy?” Peeta whispered into her ear.

“Oh yeah,” Katniss mused. “How could we not be happy about a little Haymitch in the world?”

“You know that kid is going to be all Effie,” he responded. “She is going to spoil the shit out of him!”

“True, but they deserve to,” his girlfriend said. “They waited for so long.”

Peeta looked around; their world was changing rapidly. Almost two years ago, Katniss was just the pretty girl from a boutique who he low-key had a crush on—and fantasized about during cold San Francisco nights.

Now, they were running a business together, living together, and just falling more for each other as time wore on. Peeta couldn’t even remember a time when he wasn’t waking up next to her gorgeous face. He didn’t want to imagine it.

He had always wanted Katniss in his life—and Peeta hoped that she wanted the same.

Because locked in his desk in the back was a ring.

Beetee wasn’t the only one who went vintage.

++++++

“You are stressing out, sis,” Prim remarked.

“I know, I know…” Katniss admitted as they walked around the CityTarget. “I’ve been so busy with the bakery that I haven’t had time to buy stuff for the apartment. We ran out of toilet paper last night—and it was during a time when one of us was prairie dogging.”

“Egads!” They reached the aisle with the toilet paper and Prim threw in several value packs into the cart. “Take as much as you can! Geez, you’re making co-habitation real appealing.”

“You lived with me for years,” Katniss retorted.

“Well, I was a kid for a majority of it—I didn’t know any better,” Prim said with a grin. “Really though, you seem kind of…not-so-fresh looking.”

“I’ve been feeling not-so-fresh.” Katniss pushed the cart towards the health aisle. The bakery needed more bandages for the first aid kit. “Now that the baby shower is over, I thought I’d feel better, but I’m not.”

Prim peered at her. “You getting sick? Peeta holding out on you?”

“I’m fine,” Katniss insisted though she yawned. “And, Peeta never holds out, especially since I’ve been super into him lately.”

Her sister raised an interested brow. “Explain.”

“Like for the last week, I’ve been obsessed with his…scent,” Katniss told her as she grabbed a value pack of bandages. “Literally, I wanted to lick the sweat off of him.”

“You freak nasty!” Prim bounced next to her. “I’m so proud.”

“So, that’s not weird?” Katniss asked, continuing down the aisle as she looked at the list on her phone.

“Well, we all have fluctuating hormones during our cycles,” Prim informed her.

“Hmm.” Katniss checked off the bandages, her next destination was dental floss.

She stopped, her brain connecting every symptom she had been experiencing into one realization.

Her eyes darted to the display in front of her.

Pregnancy tests—and they were all on sale.

Prim looked to her then to the display then to her sister once more. “Ohh…shit.”

Katniss could only agree to the sentiment.

++++++

“How long do these things usually take?” Katniss asked as she sat on one of the couches in Johanna’s boutique.

“Pretty quickly,” Johanna said as she looked at the three sticks assembled on the counter. “They all say ‘Pregnant.’”

Katniss shot up and rushed over, her eyes bulging as she looked at the three identical tests. “No.”

“That explains the whole sweat obsession,” Prim said.

Johanna looked to Prim. “Do I want to know?”

“Not really,” she replied. Prim put a hand over Katniss’ trembling one. “So…are we happy?”

Katniss took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment to just regroup.

She had always wanted children. Yes, it wasn’t expected and it was pretty early in the relationship; they were practically infants when it came to the relationship game in comparison to everyone around them.

However, Katniss couldn’t imagine having children with anyone but Peeta. She could see him with their child, teaching him or her to bake bread. Other images of their life with their little bun flashed in her mind…walks through Golden Gate Park, picking out the best ingredients for the bakery at Farmers’ Markets, falling asleep on their cozy couch in front of the fireplace during Christmas…

Finally, Katniss opened her eyes.

“Yes. We’re happy,” she told her sister and Johanna.

Prim reached over to embrace her. “Congratulations!”

Johanna joined in, a wisp of a tear in her usually sharp eyes.

“He or she is going to be the best dressed kid in San Francisco, thanks to Auntie Johanna!”

Prim pulled away to look at her sister. “So, how are you going to tell Peeta?”

“I don’t know—” She gathered them back together. “Just keep hugging me!”

++++++

“This is a bit of a surprise,” Robin remarked. Next to her, her husband flipped through a copy of the San Francisco Chronicle as his own father looked through an old copy of People that had been lying on their coffee table.

“I know!” his mother, who joined Robin on the lounger, added. “We never get invited here!”

The door opened and Prim stepped in along with his brothers.

Peeta had told Katniss to expect Bran and Alex as they wanted to check out the bakery, having missed out on the grand opening.

“Sorry! I get so confused at SFO!” Prim explained as she took of her coat and when to greet her parents and his own parents. “Took me forever to find the right terminal!”

Bran and Alex immediately tackled Peeta, sandwiching him before he could stop them.

“Guys!” he yelled. “You’re here because I have something serious to talk about!”

“We know,” Bran replied. “But there is something important that needs to happen.”

Peeta shook his head. “NO.”

Alex smirked. “Yes, little brother—the Mellark round-up.”

Together, Bran and Alex began to jump up and down.

“Mellark! Mellark! Mellark!”

Then, if Peeta wasn’t embarrassed enough, his mother and father joined in.

“Mellark, Mellark, Mellark!”

His mom was getting incredible jumps despite being in the sharpest heels imaginable.

“What is going on here?” Effie had arrived, along with Haymitch, who was greeting Stephen and Robin. “Daphne, you’ll destroy your Louboutins!”

“When there is a Mellark roundup, you must roundup,” his mother replied simply as she stepped away and rushed forward to hug Effie.

“Annie and Finnick should be coming soon,” Effie told the group as she plopped down on the space that Robin made for her on the couch. Katniss’ mother helped put a pillow behind Effie’s lower back. Their landlord sighed in contentment. “You’re a lifesaver, Robin. It takes me forever to get off our couch…”

“Won’t be much longer, I’m sure,” Robin assured her.

“Good, because I’m seriously done with this,” Effie said.

Finnick and Annie, along with Beetee, followed along a few minutes later. Wiress would be watching the Odair children who were all having their afternoon naps.

Once everyone was seated, Peeta settled himself in front of the group.

“First, thanks for coming,” he began. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while and I—”

“You want to propose to Katniss,” Haymitch stated. “I mean, it’s not exactly brain science.”

The door clicked and Johanna rushed in. “Sorry, I’m late! What did I miss?”

“Captain Obvious just stated the obvious,” Alex informed her with a wink. “Or in the simplest of terms, my baby brother is finally proposing to the woman who he was supposed to be married to a year ago.”

“Oh.” Johanna looked to Prim, who shook her head. “That’s great…”

Peeta immediately sensed something wrong in their expressions.

“What?” He took a gulping breath. “She’s not ready, right? Or, maybe she’s having second thoughts?” A sharp squeak escaped his throat. “I think I’m might be hyperventilating—”

“You’re overreacting,” his mother said, interrupting his moment of panic. “If you know Katniss like I know you do, you will know that she loves you.”

“And, that she wants more than anything to be with you forever,” Robin added, a tender smile on her face.

Stephen put his arm around his wife before looking to Peeta. “So, what do you want us to do?”

“Help me figure out how to propose to her,” he replied, his eyes going around the room. “Everyone in this room knows Katniss and me better than anybody else in the world. And, I just want this to be…perfect.”

“It will be, because it’s coming from you,” Beetee said sincerely. “However, if we’re trying to get organized, we first have to establish when.”

“That’s simple,” Stephen said. “Katniss’ birthday is in two weeks.” He looked around the room. “It would be the perfect excuse if she asks why everyone is here.”

“How about we all meet up again in like two days or something?” Annie suggested. “Before then, let’s all come up with some ideas to talk about during the meet-up.”

Everyone agreed to her plan.

“Peeta, why don’t we talk about Katniss’ likes and dislikes?” his father suggested. “Might help get everyone’s minds going.”

“Sure,” Peeta replied as he began to pace. “She’s not big on loud functions or anything where she’s in big crowds…can’t stand artichokes—thinks they’re wasteful…hates people who talk on those earbuds that aren’t connected to anything.” He paused, smiling to himself. “She loves sunsets…cheese buns…and—”

“Your penis?” Prim interrupted.

“Primrose Everdeen!” Her mother scolded.

“Come on, mom,” Prim said. “What did you think they did—sleep side by side in spacesuits?”

“No, but no need to be crude,” Robin admonished.

“So…two days?” Johanna called out.

“Two days!” everyone agreed.

+++++++

Prim grabbed Johanna’s arm as soon as they walked out of Katniss and Peeta’s apartment. Her parents and the Mellarks were already congregated at Haymitch and Effie’s for drinks before heading back to the rented home they were sharing while in the city.

“What the hell was that?” she asked her boss. “You almost gave the news away!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was coming into a meeting like that,” Johanna said. “I actually thought it had something to do with Katniss’ birthday.” She blew out a breath. “They’re going to have so much on their plate.”

“Well, it’s not our plate to worry about,” Prim told her firmly. “Just keep cool until Katniss figures out how to tell Peeta the news.”

“What news?”

They both jumped and turned to find Bran and Alex before them.

“Nothing!” they chorused together.

“Please.” Alex put an arm around Johanna. “How can you resist a Mellark?”

She threw his arm off her shoulders. “Very easily.”

“Come on, sis,” Bran pleaded. “Katniss has news? She’s not really breaking up with him, is she?”

Prim snorted. “Get a grip, bro. My sister is so into to Peeta that she told me—just a few days ago—she literally wants to lick the sweat off him.”

“More than I needed to hear,” Bran said.

“I want to hear more!” Alex responded. “Just more stuff I have on little brother.”

Prim walked towards the stairs, ignoring the Mellark brothers as they started a chorus of ‘Please!’. She was never good with being pressured and had a penchant to snap.

Katniss was much more impenetrable—except when it came to Peeta, apparently.

“Please leave it be! Katniss will tell Peeta about the baby when she’s good and ready!”

Her eyes squeezed shut when she realized what she said—SHIT!

The door of the Abernathy apartment opened slowly.

Taking a deep breath, Prim prepared herself for the onslaught of questions.

“Five, four, three, two, one—”

Her mother responded first, tears thick in her voice. “Your sister is pregnant?”

Swiveling around, Prim saw the heads of her parents, the elder Mellarks, and the Abernathys sticking out of the apartment door. In front of her, Bran and Alex stood, their jaws hanging open to which Johanna tried to push Alex’s up.

She turned to respond to her mother.

“Yes, Katniss is. No, I don’t know how long. She went to an appointment to confirm it today. I don’t know anything else. Above all—no one can tell Peeta!”

There was a collective nod and everyone stepped back so Haymitch could close the door.

With a wink at her, he closed it behind him.

“You are not good at keeping secrets,” Alex concluded with a grin.

“I know…” Her hopefully-soon-to-be brother walked over and gave her a hug. “At least I’ll be the baby’s favorite aunt. You and Bran can fight over who’s favorite uncle.”

He pulled away. “Not fair! Bran can actually get the kid a pony! He has a fucking pony guy!”

Johanna quirked a brow at the eldest Mellark brother. “Why would you need a pony guy?”

“We’ll worry about that later,” Bran said. “How about us brand new Aunts and Uncles have a drink?”

With a tired nod, Prim allowed Bran to lead her down the stairs and to the closest bar.

++++++

Katniss sighed, allowing for just one second the feeling of contentment to flow through her.

There it was, six weeks and five days old; a peanut of a thing, really.

A peanut with a heartbeat.

Stepping off the lightrail train, she walked onto the street island and headed in the direction of the bakery. It was already closed for the day and Peeta was probably in the midst of closing paperwork. He was diligent about being there everyday to make sure that everything was tip-top. She loved that about him; his constancy in all things.

Peeta had promised his parents that Mellark Bakery would be a success on the West Coast. He had achieved it, putting a new spin on his parents’ bakery, with gluten-free pastries and vegan-accessible food that broadened their customer base.

Getting her key out, Katniss unlocked the front door of the bakery and stepped in just as Thresh walked out from the back.

“Hey Katniss,” he greeted her. “Peeta’s in the office.”

“Thanks, Thresh,” she replied. “How did it go today?”

“Pretty run-of-the-mill, for a weekday,” Thresh informed her. “Great morning rush, decent lunch, and then kids coming in with their parents after school.”

“Maybe we should have discounted pastries from 3:30-5:00—” she mused. “—for the kids and their parents. Great time to get rid of the current day’s batch.”

“Great idea, boss lady.” Thresh gathered his things from the counter. “I’m off but let Peeta know that I checked and we’re still good on almond flour.”

Locking up after Thresh, Katniss headed into the kitchen. She loved the smell of it; the flour, sugar…even the scent of chocolate—that must be the baby’s doing as she was not into the cocoa bean.

Here, she felt wrapped up in this beautiful life that she and Peeta created for themselves.

Would it still be wonderful with the three of them?

Pushing her thoughts aside, Katniss went to the open doorway of their office. Peeta sat with his back to her, his shoulders hunched and deep into the spreadsheet on the screen in front of him. Next to him, his phone rested, the rough voice of Tom Petty singing about Mary Jane on its speaker.

She knocked against the doorway.

“Did I ever tell you how sexy you look with a spreadsheet in front of you?”

Peeta met her eyes, his cheeks coloring. “Probably not as sexy as you look taking counter orders.” Swiveling his seat, he patted his lap. “We’re low on chairs.”

Katniss obliged, primly sitting on his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Peeta pressed a kiss to her lips. “How are you doing today? You headed out pretty early. Everything okay?”

“I’m great,” she told him. “Just had an appointment.”

Here it was, the moment when she should tell him of their impending offspring.

Peeta yawned suddenly. “Sorry, I’m just exhausted. It’s been a very long day for me. Did Thresh tell you whether or not the almond flour was okay?”

Suddenly, now was not the time to tell him especially when he was tired and processing spreadsheets—

“He said the flour was fine.” A familiar tune wafted into the air and she abruptly stood up, holding her hand out. “You want to dance?”

Peeta nodded, taking her hand and rising from their ergonomic and expensive office chair.

“This song always makes me feel like I’m in a 90’s romantic comedy,” she told him as The Cure filled the room.

Peeta met her eyes, his own crinkling in laughter. “Aren’t we?”

She chuckled and nodded, her head going to his shoulder.

“The good kind, like Reality Bites or 10 Things I Hate About You—with witty dialogue and a kickass soundtrack.”

“Well, we have the witty dialogue,” Peeta told her. “Just need that soundtrack—” He stopped for a moment and looked into her eyes. “There’s something different about you. You look…sparkly.”

Katniss rolled her eyes. “Real witty.” She pulled him closer. “Just keep dancing.”

Her birthday—it was coming up.

She would just tell him then—and he couldn’t say anything bad because it was her day.

Somewhere in her head, Katniss swore she heard the baby call her a chicken.

++++++

Two days later, the group gathered once more sans Beetee, who would be watching the Odair kids. He had already sent Peeta an ample outline of his suggestions that included recreating he and Katniss’ first date down to the dress she wore for it.

Katniss was at the bakery for evening inventory. Rue agreed to pretend she needed help to give them ample enough time to discuss their ideas.

“Okay, Annie and Finnick—what do you got?” Peeta asked, a clipboard and pen ready in his hands.

“Well, we thought it might be cute if the kids helped in some way,” Annie said, looking through her own list. “Like maybe Jack could hold the ring for you or the girls can give her flowers…” She looked through the rest of her notes. “Sorry guys. The girls are teething and Jack is going through a phase of just waving his little Jack around, if you know what I mean. Our ideas are not so good.”

“So, your kid likes to be naked,” Johanna replied. “Everyone goes through a naked phase.”

“When did you get over yours?” Prim quipped.

“I haven’t,” Johanna simply replied.

Peeta jotted down Annie’s suggestions.

“No, they’re fine. I take everything into account.” He looked around the room, stopping on the Abernathys. “Haymitch? Effie?”

“How about you do something in the garden?” Effie said. “I mean, I can decorate—”

“You mean I can decorate,” Haymitch interrupted. “There is no way in hell that I’m letting you on a ladder.”

“But I have all the streamers from the baby shower and Katniss loves green!” his wife protested.

“Before this turns into a fight that Haymitch won’t win—” his mother told them. “—Peeta, just note it and let’s keep going.”

“Okay then.” Peeta wrote down the suggestion before going to his mother and father. “Mom? Dad?”

“Well—” His mother turned to look at Robin, who practically bounced in her seat. “We thought that we could blow up some pictures of you and Katniss sequencing your relationship!”

“And then we could do like a few them of your future,” Robin added. “Like one of you two getting married and one of you and Katniss with your baby—”

Prim, who had been drinking a glass of water, suddenly coughed.

“M-Mom!” she sputtered; her blue eyes wide with shock at the possibility of her mother revealing Katniss’ secret. “They don’t even have kids!”

“Oh pish.” Robin waved her hand easily. “Nothing that can’t be photoshopped.”

Peeta wrote down the suggestion. “That sounds pretty cool. I mean kids seems a little far—”

“You don’t want to have kids with my Katniss?” Stephen suddenly asked.

Peeta’s head snapped up. “Of course, I do! It’s just—”

His father suddenly towered over him. “Just what?”

A whimper suddenly escaped his mouth.

“I just thought that I would first like Katniss to accept my proposal before actually thinking about children…”

Bran jumped up, his hands going to both fathers’ shoulders.

“Chill, Dads.” He gave them pointed looks. “I mean, let them work that out when they get to that moment.”

“Anyway, before the parents decide to hijack your proposal, Bran and I came up with something,” Alex said. “We think that you should do something musical for her.”

Peeta shook his head vehemently. He already knew where this was going.

“No, bros.”

Prim scoffed. “Yeah, like Peeta can sing!”

“You’d be surprised,” Bran told her. “I mean, we—”

“Stop!” Peeta jumped from his seat. “I’ll put it into account but…”

“You know her favorite song, right?” Alex asked.

Peeta nodded, his cheeks burning. “Of course.”

Alex put an arm around his younger brother. “Then, just think about it.”

“Fine,” Peeta told him begrudgingly. “But I’m not making promises.”

“Just make it romantic,” Johanna told him earnestly. “Because in the end, Katniss is just like any other person; she enjoys a good romance once in a while.”

Peeta suddenly grinned, thinking of his conversation with Katniss the previous night as they danced in their small office. “A romantic comedy…”

Then, it came to him.

++++++

This was hell.

Katniss put a cool washcloth to her forehead as she sat on the floor of her bathroom. Peeta had offered to stay home with her, but she assured him that it was just ‘female issues.’ There was no need for him to miss out on work and Prim would check on her in the afternoon.

The moment he left, after promising to call at lunch, she immediately rushed into the bathroom to throw up the contents of her stomach—maybe her stomach itself—into their toilet.

She didn’t know how long she could take doing this, keeping this misery to herself.

Peeta got her into this. He should suffer, too.

“A few more days…” she told herself.

In a few more days, it would be her birthday and she could tell Peeta about their baby.

With that thought, Katniss laid down on the cool porcelain floor and fell asleep.

++++++

“She’s a wreck…”

Katniss blearily opened her eyes hearing her sister’s voice.

“What did you expect?” a deep voice asked. “She’s carrying my brother’s spawn.”

A washcloth was placed on her forehead.

“Just let her rest. She’s stressed out, keeping all of this from your brother.”

Katniss was soothed at Johanna’s words.

“Should we get her to their bed?” asked Alex. “She looks a little peaked.”

“I’m fine,” Katniss finally grumbled, her eyes opening to find Johanna, Prim, and Bran on the floor with her. Alex leaned against the doorframe. “If you take me to the room, I’ll just end up here, anyway.” She glared up at Johanna. “I can’t believe you told them.”

Johanna gave her a mock scowl. “Me? I didn’t say anything. It was your brainless sister.”

Prim gave her a pout. “Sorry, Katniss. You know I can’t keep secrets.”

“It won’t be a secret much longer,” she informed them. “I’m going to tell him on my birthday next week.”

“Your birthday?” Johanna repeated. “When did you decide that?”

“Once I got the confirmation that there was a little peanut-sized being inside me—also, when I chickened out on telling Peeta that same day,” Katniss replied and sighed. “We can never get married now.”

“Why not?” Alex asked.

“Because once I tell your brother, he will propose to me. Not because he wants to, but because he’ll feel obligated to. I don’t want to trap him like that. I mean, we can raise the baby together—”

Bran reached over to give her shoulder a squeeze. “Oh sweetie, my brother would never marry someone just because of obligation. Every move that Peeta makes, he makes with love.”

“I know.” Katniss sniffled. “Damn hormones. I just don’t want him to regret me…or the peanut.”

“He would never,” Alex assured her.

Katniss suddenly shot up, twisting in the direction of the toilet before retching into it.

The four other occupants reared back before Prim gathered herself to hold her sister’s hair up.

“Let it out,” Prim told her soothingly.

“I think I just threw up a lung,” Katniss replied miserably. “Help me up. I feel so gross. I need to change my shirt.”

Bran, the brawniest of them all, scooped the nauseous expectant mother up easily. “I got you.”

“Thanks, bro…” Katniss closed her eyes. “You smell like Peeta…but I’m not even turned on.”

He guffawed. “Gee, thanks.”

Everyone else followed them down the hall to the bedroom and Bran gently placed Katniss on her bed.

“Let me grab you a shirt, sis,” Prim said quickly before going into their closet and returning with an oversized white t-shirt. “Do you need anything else?”

Katniss shook her head. “I have a bottle of water by the bedside. I’m just going to lay down for a while. Peeta said he would call soon.”

Nodding, Prim went over to kiss the top of her sister’s head. “Get some rest, okay?”

Katniss nodded before closing her eyes. She was out before Prim even closed the door.

As soon as the door was closed, Prim turned to the other three.

“Fuck the plan. Peeta needs to propose like right now,” she informed them.

“Are you kidding?” Alex said.

“No, I’m not. Katniss is unpredictable and moody…she might tell him right when she wakes up for all we know. We have to beat her to the punch,” Prim told the three before looking to Bran. “Text all of our parents. Johanna, alert the building. Once this is all done, then we go to Peeta. Agreed?”

They all agreed quietly, not wanting to awaken Katniss, before getting to their duties.

++++++

The door of the bakery had barely closed for the day before the group barreled in. Peeta and Katniss’ parents, and well—the whole damn building were suddenly standing right in front of him as he was putting pastries away.

“What’s going on?” Peeta demanded to know.

Prim stepped forward. “You need to propose—now.”

He froze, a half empty tray in his hands. “What?”

Johanna took the tray from his grasp so she could have one for herself.

“If you don’t, there’s a chance that Katniss might say no,”

He looked at everyone’s anxious expressions. “But, the plan—"

“We figured it out,” his father told him. “It’s all set up.”

“How did you manage that?” Peeta asked.

“Katniss’…female problems knocked her out cold,” Alex offered. “At least, that’s what Prim told me.”

“We worked quickly and quietly,” Beetee assured him. “It looks great.”

“But…this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen,” Peeta said in disappointment.

“Peeta.” Robin lifted his drooping chin. “When did anything between you and Katniss ever go as planned?”

Peeta looked into her eyes—Katniss’ almond eyes—before giving her a kiss on the cheek. Reaching into his pocket, he handed her a set of keys.

“Will you get the ring? It’s in the bottom-left drawer of my desk in the small petty cash box.” His gaze went to his mother, her own eyes glittering with tears. “My mom knows the combination.”

Then, Peeta turned to the rest of the group.

“Let’s do this.”

++++++

Blinking slowly, Katniss finally opened her eyes. She was relieved to find that her stomach was no longer rumbling. She carefully sat up, her gaze going to her side table where a note in Prim’s writing laid on a packet of Saltines, saying ‘Eat me’.

Katniss opened the packet quickly and scarfed down the crackers while texting Prim to thank her. She was surprised to find that she had slept late into the afternoon.

Her phone dinged with a response. ‘Are you okay?’

She typed back, ‘I’m feeling much better.’

The next message came quickly: ‘Johanna and I are downstairs in the lobby. Come down and meet us! Also, can you wear that dress that you wore on your first date with Peeta? Effie was telling us about it the other day and Johanna is thinking of having it recreated exclusively for the boutique.’

Katniss swore that she had worn it at some point in front of Johanna but typed back in agreement, letting Prim know that she would be down in a few minutes.

Going to her closet, she pulled out the rust dress that she wore that first date. Without that date, she may have never run into Gale and he wouldn’t have texted his mother like a little bitch.

However, if he didn’t, then maybe her and Peeta might have still been living that lie.

In some ways, she should be thanking Gale—right after punching him in the nads.

Quickly, Katniss threw the dress on. She still fit in it nicely, her boobs filling the top a little better, but their little bun was still well hidden. After making sure that she didn’t reek of vomit, Katniss made her way out of the apartment and down the stairs.

Stepping onto the main floor, she found Prim and Johanna missing—but the door leading to the backyard was open. It wasn’t uncommon to find a group of them congregating for a glass of wine or just to talk about their day.

She loved this about their building; it was a community—a family.

As Katniss stepped into the backyard, her mouth fell open.

She didn’t see Prim or Johanna but found something entirely different.

To both sides of the door were easels with blown-up photos of herself and Peeta. She continued down seeing that first photo at their City Hall ‘wedding’ to a photo of themselves in front of the Mellark Bakery on its grand opening. It was easy to piece together that they were all set up to show the sequence of their relationship.

However, the last two before the archway of the garden showed two images of what was supposed to be their future.

One was an actual wedding, their faces photoshopped—masterfully—on a bride and groom in front of beautiful rose archway. The guests all happened to have the faces of their families and friends.

Then, there was the last one; the one of herself—with a very nice rack she might add—holding a baby in her arms. Photoshopped Peeta stood behind her, gazing adoringly at their little one.

Her hand reached to the little one’s face and with a sigh, Katniss wondered who their actual little one would look like.

She moved forward, entering through the thick archway where she was greeted by Beetee and the Odair girls.

In front of her, a large white curtain going from one side of the yard to the other had been drawn up, keeping her from seeing what was behind it.

Katniss looked to her neighbor. “Hey Beetee, what’s going on?”

He smiled at her before reaching behind him and presenting her with a delicate daisy crown.

“The girls—” Beetee looked to Sarah and Rose, who giggled and bounced excitedly. “—and I were in charge of this lovely crown.” He placed it carefully on her head. “The girls chose the flowers.”

Katniss looked to each twin. “Thank you, Sarah. Thank you, Rose.”

Beetee held out his arm. “Shall we?”

Tentatively, she took it. “I’m a little scared of what I might find behind that curtain.”

The man next to her chuckled as the little girls ran ahead.

“Now when has that ever stopped you from leaping forward?” he asked her, a softness in his dark eyes. They stood in front of the curtain and Beetee parted it with just enough space for her to walk through. “Go ahead.”

Taking a deep breath, Katniss stepped in.

The beginning strains of her favorite song came on and she let out a breath of shock at the sight.

Her family along with the Mellarks were there, all gathered to one side as the Abernathys, Odairs, as well as Beetee and Wiress stood to the other side. She walked down an aisle of rose petals gazing up at the streamers creating a beautiful sage-green big top.

Then, her eyes went to the stage in front of her. “Holy shit…”

“I don't care if Monday's blue

Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too

Thursday, I don't care about you

It's Friday I'm in love…”

It was Peeta…on stage…singing into the mic—and why did she not know that he could sing?

Katniss felt her lips turn up in a grin when Peeta winked at her, his mouth against the mic.

“Saturday, wait

And Sunday, always comes too late

But Friday, never hesitate...”

And, was that Bran on the drums behind him…and Alex on bass?

“I don’t know if Peeta ever mentioned that he and his brothers had a band,” Daphne said suddenly next to her, blue eyes bright with mirth. “They were quite the thing in our neighborhood.”

“I can imagine why,” she replied breathlessly, watching as Prim and Johanna sang back-up to Peeta’s lead vocals. “He’s good.”

Daphne gave her a kiss on the cheek. “He stopped singing for a long while—until you came along. Now, he would only do this again for you.” She moved Katniss forward gently. “Go on, listen to his song.”

“Always take a big bite

It's such a gorgeous sight

To see you eat in the middle of the night

You can never get enough

Enough of this stuff

It's Friday

I'm in love…”

Katniss didn’t know if it was the baby or just her, but she could feel the butterflies flutter in her stomach as she walked towards to the stage.

Oh shit—her stomach lurched; it was neither her or the baby.

It was her stomach.

Katniss could feel the bile rushing up and she lifted her skirt with one hand and used the other hand to cover her mouth before rushing to the left side of the garden. The music stopped abruptly in a jangled mess as she reached the end and let the vomit erupt from her mouth.

She was barely aware as someone gathered her hair up as she continued to throw up into what looked like a set of begonias.

“Oh God…whose flowers were these?” she choked out through tears and vomit.

“Don’t worry about it,” Haymitch said off-handedly behind her. “Those tenants were huge douches.”

A cool hand went to her forehead. “Are you okay?” It was Peeta. She realized as she leaned back against his chest that he had been holding her hair. “I didn’t think that it was humanly possible for someone to vomit that much in such a short span of time.”

Katniss closed her eyes, feeling the relief of being in his arms after such a trying day.

“I didn’t know you had such good voice,” she breathed into his chest, exhaustion taking over.

“Just one of my many talents,” Peeta told her and she could hear the smile in his voice. “You wanted romantic comedy, right? Don’t all good romantic comedies come with a kickass soundtrack?”

She laughed wetly. “They do, but they don’t usually come with vomit.”

Peeta chuckled, his chest contracting as he let out a shaky breath.

“No, they don’t. Some of them do come with one of these—” Peeta pressed his mouth to her ear and her skin tingled at the warmth of his breath against her ear. “Katniss Everdeen, will you marry me—for real this time?”

Her eyes opened and Katniss sat up, her gray ones suddenly watering at his words.

“Are you only asking me because I’m pregnant?” she managed to blurt out.

His eyes suddenly widened to a degree that could break world records—or cause a major headache.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Uncle Peeta?” Jack suddenly stood in front of them holding out a tiny red box. “Your mommy told me to give this to you.”

“Thanks, Jack.” Peeta ruffled his unruly locks before the little boy went to join his family. He turned back to Katniss. “Take a look.”

Shakily, Katniss took the box and opened it. There laying inside was a beautiful pearl ring surrounded by small diamonds on a thin band.

There was no way in hell, with a ring like this, that he did not plan this proposal.

“This is real.” She met Peeta’s eyes. “Are you okay…about the baby?”

Katniss felt her chest swell as tears lined his deep-blue eyes and his mouth split into a grin.

“We’re going to have baby,” he said thickly.

Peeta kissed her soundly, despite what Katniss was sure was the most rancid-flavored kiss.

But if that wasn’t love, then she didn’t know what was.

When they pulled apart, Katniss beamed at him.

“We’re having a baby…and getting married as soon as I brush my teeth.”

Peeta helped her up and she adjusted her skirt, brushing bits of grass off.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think that’s possible,” Peeta said. “We’d have to wait until tomorrow—”

“Actually—” Beetee approached them and handed Katniss a piece of paper. “Signed by the mayor herself.”

It was a marriage license, their names already on it with today’s date as their official wedding date.

They both looked to Beetee and he shrugged. “I came prepared.”

++++++

Many months later…

“Come on, little mama.” Peeta rubbed the small of her back. “Just a bit longer.”

Katniss groaned as she trudged forward. “I am so sick of being pregnant.”

“Really?” He gave her a smile. “I couldn’t even tell.”

“Why did I marry you?” she asked, grinning at him.

“Because I’m adorably irresistible,” Peeta told her as they reached the front. “And, I have a huge—”

“Ego,” Katniss finished for him. She pressed a kiss to his lips. “And your penis is not so bad.”

“Better curb your tongue,” he warned. “Our daughter might come out with a sailor’s mouth.”

“Help me up.” Holding Peeta’s hand, Katniss carefully stepped onto the bench and onto the flat surface of the table. The table creaked as she settled. “Oh, that doesn’t sound good.”

Peeta joined her quickly, pulling her close.

“We can’t stay here for too long. Haymitch and Effie are expecting us. It’ll be their first date night since Luke was born,” Peeta told her.

“I know. Effie told me she’s been ‘aching’ for Haymitch.” Katniss blanched. “When she is really tired, she has no filter.”

“That was more than I needed to hear,” Peeta replied. “I guess it’s better than hearing about Alex and Johanna.” His brother had finally worn down Katniss’ friend and was now happily shackled after being married by an Elvis Presley impersonator in Las Vegas. “I don’t think my parents have forgiven them for eloping.”

“Well, they’ll forget once this one is born,” Katniss assured him, her hand on her swollen belly. She looked to Peeta. “Do you regret that we didn’t have a big wedding either?”

“Hell no!” he exclaimed. “I married you at sunset in front of our friends and family and it was actually official—”

“After I vomited in the middle of your performance.” Katniss leaned back against him. “I can’t believe I married the Nick Jonas of the Mellark brothers.”

He groaned. “Please stop with the Jonas references.”

“Okay…but when our daughter is sixteen, you can bet your ass that I’m playing the recording for her,” she responded.

“Deal.”

They sat back, looking out the window of the Mellark Bakery, content in the silence of the moment.

The silence didn’t last very long.

“Oh crap.” Katniss turned to her husband. “Help me up.”

He looked to her, used to her frequent trips to the bathroom and sudden need for pastries. “Why?”

“Because my water broke all over this table and it will cause water stains!” she burst out. “We just finished paying it off!”

Peeta jumped off it immediately, almost breaking that perfect Grecian nose in the process.

“It’s time?”

Katniss nodded, a bright smile on her face. “It’s time.”

______________

I hope this sated your appetite. I wish I could go into each character and tell you what happened to each but that would be like…ten more pages. I’d by happy to tell you via message on Tumblr.

For now, just know that Katniss delivered a healthy baby girl—and Peeta’s nose ended being broken, anyway. Next baby, he’ll be sure to not suggest that Katniss hold off on the drugs eleven hours in.

They’re still deciding on a name having vetoed Primrose the Second and Johanna the Great.

Suggestions for names are appreciated as well as presents for the newest tenant of the building.

Just a few other notes:

-A kouign-amann is actually a really flaky cake but here in San Francisco, they’re sold in a donut size so I think of them like cronut. Whatever it is, it’s flippin’ delicious.

-We have CityTargets in San Francisco, which are smaller versions of Target, and they’re basically made for urbanites or if you’re by the one next to San Francisco State University, college students.

-The current mayor of San Francisco is London Breed, I figure she’s still mayor in this timeline of the story.

Song: “Friday I’m in Love”-The Cure

Thank you for sticking around and reading!

With love, JLaLa

#Rent Control #everlark #Everlark Fanfiction #Everlark AU #Its finally done

171 notes · View notes

wishingupontheskyandstars · 4 years

Text

Reylo Fanfic Title: Seasons of Friendship, Yearning, Kisses, And Love

Rated M

Fic Summary: Rey is Ben's new neighbor and as the seasons pass by there is friendship, yearning, first kisses, and love.

Chapter 1 AO3 Link

Chapter 2 AO3 Link

Chapter 2 - Spring 🌷

Ben sat on a bar stool in his parents' kitchen, working on his laptop. He stopped typing, raised his arms and stretched--instantly feeling less tense. He grabbed his warm cup of coffee from off the counter and finished it. He sighed as he looked ahead at the back yard. He grinned slowly, watching his dad flip burgers on the grill next to the gazebo. He saw him give a half-smile to his mom and Aunt Amilyn. The two were on an outdoor rattan sectional sofa. His mom was sat up with Amilyn's head on her lap, massaging her head lovingly. They were talking to each other until his father said something he couldn't hear. His mom nodded at him with a grin and said something which made his dad laugh. Ben looked away, glad they were all happy. He retrieved his phone from the counter and saw a new text from Rey. He smiled, not caring if anyone saw him. He started to text back, sighed happily, missing her.

Rey sat on a bistro chair next to her small round black patio table, on her balcony, facing Alderaan park. It was a lovely day to take a stroll through the park, see and smell the gardens full of blooming flowers if only she could, she thought. She stretched her legs in front of her, lifted them, and placed them on the other bistro chair where the sunlight instantly warmed her skin. She reached for her favorite mug filled with her freshly made strawberry and blueberry smoothie and took a sip. It tasted so refreshing she wiggled her dark blue colored toes she painted the previous night. She looked to her left and saw Ben's vacant balcony separated only by a glass divider. His linen love seat, patio table, and easel remained unmoved for almost two months. Her phone chimed with a new text message. She grabbed it and wrinkled her nose, reading Ben's text. She sighed--resting her head against her sliding door, missing him.

More Than 3 Months Ago

Between Christmas and New Year's Rey got her apartment settled before she started her job at the city library in early January. She purchased essential furniture: A bed frame and mattresses, a small couch, and bar stools for her surprising long kitchen counter. She didn't feel the need to buy a table for the dining area when she could fit four chairs at the counter. She instead used the dining space as a mini office, purchasing a blue shabby chic desk and matching chair. She didn't see anything to suggest her apartment was haunted unless she dismissed that one time the light in the kitchen randomly turned on in the middle of the night when she couldn't sleep and ate cereal. Other than that, she was enjoying her new life in the city.

It was the morning after New Year's Day as Rey finished eating her fruit bowl when she heard a knock at the door. She walked over and peeked through the peephole. Her heart leaped at seeing Ben. They had spent one morning out together for breakfast just a day after Christmas and since then were friendly if they ran into each other, waiting for the elevator. He even helped the people that moved in her furniture. She briefly saw him on New Year's Day when he came back from a party hosted by his friend, Tai. He had invited her and she wanted to say yes, but didn't--insisting she had other plans, but really, she saw the city's fireworks from her balcony and watched rerun episodes of a favorite show on her new television. At the time, she didn't want to move too fast in getting to know Ben as she recognized he was different from other guys she dated.

She opened the door revealing Ben with a worried expression. He said in a rush, "I wanted towarnyou that my momandAuntAmilyn are coming over."

Rey raised her brows, getting half of what he said. "What?"

"I'm sorry." He genuinely looked apologetic as he sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair, nervously.

"Why?" Rey felt like she couldn't get any other words out since she was caught off guard.

Ben shrugged. "They unexpectedly came over for breakfast and now they're interested in decorating your apartment. I'm sorry."

"Oh!" Rey's eyes widened. She didn't know how to respond.

Ben pointed toward the inside of her apartment. "I tried to text you earlier--to warn you so you can leave or—"

Rey groaned, closing her eyes as she leaned into her door. "I forgot to plug it in last night."

"Ah." Ben crossed his arms.

At that second there was a new voice in the conversation: "Rey!" Leia said from behind Ben as she put an arm around her son's waist and squeezed him, making him groan slightly. "How are you this morning?" She asked with a bright smile. Amilyn also appeared, standing on the other side of Ben looking inside her apartment with an inquisitive look on her face.

"Great, thank you, Mrs. Solo." Rey saw Ben look gigantic next to his mom. It made her grin.

"No need for formalities." Leia walked towards Rey, quickly hugging her as did Amilyn, who followed behind. "Call me, Leia," she said, walking in the living room looking around at the nearly empty room.

Rey shrugged at Ben, who was still in the hallway. She gestured with her head for him to come inside. He mouthed I'm sorry as he walked by her. She nodded, giving him a small smile.

Leia walked a few steps into the kitchen as she said, "We just wanted to pop by and..."

"See if we can help you decorate your place. Ben mentioned you start work soon," Amilyn said as she gave Rey a wink.

"It would be a gift from us to you," Leia said.

Ben rolled his eyes, looking agitated. "Mom..." He interrupted or tried to.

Leia walked back to Rey and gently squeezed her arm. "We're just grateful that Ben has a neighbor like you and someone who can be—"

"Mom, stop," Ben said in annoyance. He was standing on the other side of Rey with his arms crossed.

It was as if Leia didn't hear him as she continued to say, "You remember at Christmas when he looked happy singing carols while Luke played the piano? Ami, when has that ever happened?"

"Never!" Amilyn yelled from the kitchen. Ben scoffed.

Rey chuckled and crossed her arms, bumping her elbow with his. Ben sighed. "Did I mention I was sorry about this?" He asked, his dark eyes looking into hers. She saw the intensity in his look and she could tell he was distraught over this.

She put her hand over his arm. He wore a dark sweatshirt, but she felt the strength of his arm--the muscle which made her take a breath in before she reassured him, "It's okay, Ben."

"I know what we're going to do." Leia walked outside to the balcony. She turned and said in a matter of fact tone, "Rey, give us until this early evening and we'll have everything ready."

"We'll be done by five," Amilyn estimated as she walked towards Leia with her iPad in hand, typing.

Rey looked at Ben with a look of disbelief. "Are they serious?" she whispered.

"Always," he said with a heavy sigh.

"Go see a movie or dine at Maz's restaurant. She added a few new meals on the menu," Leia said as she retrieved her phone from her purse and started to type away.

"The garlic parmesan pasta is divine," Amilyn said, not looking up from her iPad as she made the chef's kiss gesture.

Ben's phone rang, surprising them both. He retrieved it from his jeans pocket, looked at it, and grimaced. He looked back at Rey. "It's someone from work—I have to take this." He looked back at his mom and Amilyn and shook his head. "As I said, they're too much," He looked uneasy as he placed his hand on her arm before walking away.

Rey felt the warmth from his touch as she saw him walk to the hallway talking about the design of a website. She looked back at his mom and aunt on the balcony and walked with determination to them. "Leia, I'm so appreciative but I don't have the money to pay you back. I just got some furniture that I know will work for me so..." She gave them a reassuring smile.

Leia looked up from her phone and put it back into her purse. She walked just two steps to reach Rey and took her hands in hers. "I promise we will keep your furniture in place. We just want to help and maybe one day you can pay back the favor to someone else." Rey felt trust as she stared in her soft brown eyes that resembled her son's. Leia smiled which made Rey smile in return.

"And we're good at this." Amilyn boasted as she continued to type on her iPad.

Leia still held Rey's hands as she said, "I'm sorry if we inconvenienced you, Rey, and we understand if you want us to leave."

Other than Ben helping her when she first moved and even inviting her to spend Christmas with his family when she didn't have anyone, she had never had someone help her just because. She realized the genuine kindness in this family ran strong. With a smile, she said, "I look forward to seeing what you two do."

After Rey and Ben browsed a bookstore, took a stroll in the freezing outdoors through the snow-filled park, and had lunch at Maz's restaurant, Rey saw as promised the newly added décor work with all her furniture. A dark wood coffee table was placed in front of her dark couch. A floor lamp and an end table were alongside one side of the couch. There were mirrors placed in each room. Different scenery and floral prints were hung on the walls. An end table with a lamp was placed in her bedroom. A blender, pots and pans, and a spice rack were added to her kitchen.

Out on the balcony, there was a black bistro table and two chairs on the patio along with an umbrella. Succulents, ficus plants, geraniums, and orchids were placed all around her apartment. She touched the petal of one orchid and felt it was indeed real and not fake. She hadn't nurtured many plants before but was ready to take care of them. They made the apartment livelier, Rey thought. That evening she made everyone dinner filled with bruschetta and mac n cheese with veggies. Rey found herself getting more attached to Ben and his family and was starting to feel like she was where she was supposed to be--she held on to that feeling.

Soon enough, Rey got in the rhythm of her apartment, neighborhood, and her new job position. At work, she instantly clicked with two of her co-workers: Rose and Jannah. At the apartment, she and Ben had lunch every weekend after a busy work week, either at hers or his place. The more she talked to Ben, the more she was feeling something for him.

During their lunch before Valentine's day, Ben made a sausage, cheese, and spinach quiche. Rey took a bite and closed her eyes in bliss.

"Does that mean it's good?" Ben asked and grinned.

"Fuck yes," Rey laughed, covering her mouth. "Sorry."

Ben laughed. "Glad you like it." He took a bite and nodded at her. "Yeah, there's not going to be any leftovers."

Rey already took a second slice from the dish. She raised her fork and said, "Correct." She looked at the easel on his balcony. With her fork, she pointed at it. "Are you working on new art?"

Ben nodded. "It's of the park," he said, modestly. He immediately went back to eating.

Rey gave him a sly grin. "When do you think I will be able to see this new art piece by artist, Ben Solo," she said with a smile.

He laughed and rolled his eyes. "Maybe...never," he said, raising a brow.

"Oh, come on!"

He shrugged. "Probably by next weekend. I'll bring it over to your apartment."

"Yes!" Rey said with excitement.

Ben looked at Rey and thought she looked genuinely happy to see his art. He looked away and took another bite of quiche. He then realized next weekend was Valentine's Day and he had been wanting to ask Rey on a proper date. Perhaps—his cell rang just then. He looked at it and put it back down. "It's Amilyn," he said.

"Oh! How is she?" Rey asked then drank orange juice from one of Ben's expensive-looking crystal goblet.

Ben shrugged. "Fine, I guess. She and my mom are always busy so—" The phone rang again. "Ok, I better get this."

Rey nodded.

Ben answered, "Hey, Au--What?" Ben's brows furrowed. "When? ... Which hospital? ... Okay, I'm leaving right now...umm..." He moved his mouth one side then the other. "Did you see him? ... Okay, yeah, bye." He put down his phone and stared at his plate of half-eaten quiche.

"What happened?"

At the sound of his name he looked at Rey and said as if confused, "My dad was by himself ...in a plane accident. He needs surgery and I need to go to the hospital." He stood up and walked down the hallway to his room. He came back less than a minute later and looked around the living room. "My keys--I don't know where they are."

Rey looked behind her at the hook near his front door where his keys were. She walked, grabbed them, and gave them to Ben.

He looked surprised as he held the keys in his hand. "Right." He looked around the room again and said, "Umm...my phone." He grabbed his wallet from the pocket of his dark jeans and looked puzzled. "Not my phone." He put his wallet back in his pocket.

Rey looked at his phone, left on the counter. She grabbed the phone and gave it to him. He looked confused as he said, "Thank you."

"Ben, you're in shock. Let me drive you to the hospital."

Ben raised his brows. "You'll drive me?" He looked genuinely surprised, again.

"Of course." She gently put her hand on his arm. He looked down at her hand then his eyes searched her face as if trying to find something. Rey tried to give him an encouraging smile as she walked with him towards the front door, locking it behind them.

As Rey drove to the hospital she made it a habit to check on Ben during red lights. His eyes were always closed--his jaw was clenched.

When they got to the hospital waiting room, Leia held onto her son as Ben had his arms around her. Rey heard him whisper to his mom, "He'll be fine—He always is." Rey smiled, touched seeing Ben so affectionate with his family.

Later that evening as Rey and Ben were back at the apartments she opened the door to hers. She looked to her left and saw Ben still standing in front of his door. "Ben?"

He looked at her with an almost worried expression. He walked a couple of steps to her. "I'm thinking of packing a bag of clothes and staying with my parents for a while--just until he's out of the hospital and recuperates at home. I don't know-- maybe if I was there more it would help." He shrugged.

Rey stepped closer to Ben where there were less than a few inches between them. "What can I do?"

Ben half-smiled. "You've done so much already—driving me to the hospital when I couldn't get myself together. You being there--it helped... thanks, Rey."

"Even though the timing was not ideal it was nice to meet your dad's friends, Chewie and Lando. They told so many stories when you were younger." She wrinkled her nose in mischief.

Ben looked like he was turning red in embarrassment. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Oh, yeah, like what?" He shook his head. "Never mind."

Rey chuckled. "Anyway, if you need anything, please let me know." She realized they were close--very close. She leaned forward just a tad. The hallway lighting was dim as if it was going to go out any minute.

Ben looked down at her hands. Slowly he touched her fingertips with his. "Rey, earlier I wanted...um..."

Rey looked down at their hands touching. His touch felt warm--she wanted more. She held his hand, stroking his skin with her thumb. She looked up and met his dark eyes. "Yes?"

Their faces were close enough where Ben could smell her strawberry shampoo. He felt her soothing caress on his hand and wanted to ask her out for Valentine's Day but he refrained. He closed his eyes and sighed, feeling it wasn't the right time. If he left now he wouldn't be back for a while, and-- He cleared his throat and didn't let go of her touch as he said, "Let's keep in touch, okay?"

Rey felt that he was going to say something different but nodded, interlocking her fingers with his, and said, "Absolutely."

Texts and phone calls were how Rey and Ben communicated the next few weeks as Valentine's Day came and went. Han was out of the hospital and back in the comfort of his own home, in bed most of the day, with a cast on one leg and one arm. Rey could tell Ben was relieved that his father was almost back to himself just in the more at ease tone of his messages to her. She planned to visit Chandrila during an upcoming weekend but soon enough that became just a wish.

As March rolled in, whispers about the Red Shadow Virus became louder and louder, world-wide. Everywhere, including the city, many were severely sick and some died. It became a tragic pandemic that resembled the Blue Shadow Virus that occurred less than a century ago. A stay-at-home order was enforced, keeping people home except going out for the essentials. Ben continued to stay with his family at home while Rey stayed in her apartment on her own. Instead of talking a few times a week their conversations were daily.

"I'm glad your father is feeling better," Rey said as she made dinner in her kitchen. She had her cell phone on speaker.

"That's the only good news right now. He can be grouchy sometimes but I think he's relieved I'm home—Mom too." He sighed. "It's a tragedy what's going on."

"It's heartbreaking—watching the news and listening to the loved ones of those that have passed away..." Rey felt her eyes moisten remembering what she saw on the news just an hour earlier. "How's your mom?"

"She's been redecorating half of the house and making sure my dad is healing well. She's keeping busy, as always. How are you holding up?"

Rey stirred vegetables that were sizzling in the pan. "I went shopping earlier this morning so I'm good on groceries for a while and I'm able to work remotely, for now."

"Same here."

"Yeah and a couple of days a week, Jannah, Rose, and I have been making food deliveries to first responders."

Ben smiled, knowing Rey is someone that wants to help any way she can. He admired that about her. "That's great. Rey, I—" He stopped talking.

Rey furrowed her brows. "Ben? You there?"

"Yeah... What I wanted to say was that I'm going to miss seeing you these next few weeks." He gulped.

Rey smiled, glad he felt the same as her. "I feel the same."

"Yeah?"

"Mmm." Rey took a breath before she admitted, "I miss seeing you every morning, taking the elevator together, and having our weekly lunch—it's something I look forward to."

She didn't hear him for a few seconds and feared she might have said too much but she then heard him say, "Ditto." Rey grinned.

Present – Early Afternoon

Ben was in his car arriving back to his parents' home after making a grocery run and other errands for his parents. He turned off his car and saw the garage door close behind him. He took off his mask, got out of the car, and started to bring groceries to the kitchen, cleaning the fruit and vegetables, before putting them in the fridge. He looked outside at the gazebo. It was quiet but he knew his parents and Aunt Amilyn was home. He shook his head and retrieved more groceries from his car.

Minutes later, he went upstairs to check on his parents to see if there was anything they needed before he took a shower, worked on his laptop, and perhaps text Rey. At that thought, he grinned and opened his parents' bedroom door. "I'm back, do you need anything else?" He asked before his eyes enlarged at what he saw before him. I should have knocked, he thought.

"You know there's something I didn’t know about my family."

Rey was lying on her bed wearing comfy pajamas as she looked up at the ceiling. She had Ben on speakerphone next to her on a pillow. She leaned on her right side and said, "What?"

Ben was in his room, sitting up on his bed, his feet on the ground. He was holding his phone at his ear. "My parents are like a couple with Amilyn."

Rey smiled. "You didn’t know?"

Ben gasped. "Wait--you knew?!"

"I did see some sort of intimacy between them in the kitchen at Christmas. I thought you knew."

"I found out earlier today after coming back from the market. I went to check in on them in their room and saw my dad asleep without his shirt on one side of the bed and the other side... My mom and Amilyn—" He gulped before he continued, "Um—They were making out, hands everywhere, and they were unclothed, the duvet at their feet and--I ran--feeling like an idiot." He sighed, covering his eyes with his arm.

Rey laughed. "Oh my god, did you at least talk afterward?"

"Yeah. I know it's their business but I wished they would have told me a long time ago so I could have been happy for them starting back then instead of now." He sighed. "I'm probably not making sense."

"You are--When I saw them together it looked like all three were in a happy relationship."

"I learned it's been going on since my mom and Amilyn met in college and then my mom met my dad and--Well, they're happy together and so am I. Aunt Amilyn always felt like family since I was a kid so I'm glad they can be comfortable together in front of me instead of feeling like have had to hide it." He remembered earlier that evening as his dad was at the bbq grilling burgers and his mom and Amilyn were in the gazebo, how content they all looked together. He smiled, wishing he had more memories like that.

Rey stretched her legs before curling near the phone. "Why didn't they tell you back then?"

"My mom didn't think I would understand but at thirty-two years old, I'm glad they can trust me," he scoffed.

"You're thirty-two?" Rey asked.

"Yes, why? Too old for you?" He then stopped talking as if he said more than he meant to.

"Ben?"

"Hmmm?"

"You're the perfect age for me and I don’t know about you but I miss you." She wrinkled her nose and raised her brows, feeling a rush of relief in telling him her true feelings.

Without a pause, he said, "I miss you too, Rey." He sighed. "Wow, I can't believe we've been waiting this long to tell each other that."

"I know," Rey said. "Ben?"

"Yeah?"

She felt bold when she asked, "What do you miss about me?" She didn't realize but she held her breath waiting for him to answer.

Ben chuckled. "That's easy--Your smile whenever we see each other and when you wear your hair in that unique triple bun hairstyle and I miss talking to you face to face."

"So, what are we going to do?"

"Once this stay-at-home order is lifted, I want to take you on an official first date."

"I want that too, badly."

Another month went by as Rey was at her desk on her laptop corresponding with Rose concerning work when she heard Ben's door open. She immediately ended her chat on teams and closed her laptop.

She stepped outside to her balcony and saw the sun just start to set. She turned to her left and finally saw him. He took off his dark mask and placed it on the patio table. It had been three months since she last saw him. She felt such emotion in seeing him. "Ben!" She walked to the glass divider.

Ben turned her way, smiled, and walked to his side of the glass divider. "It's so good to see you, Rey," he said. He looked at her face, her hazel eyes, her lips, her hair which had grown longer. "You grew your hair out," he remarked.

Rey ran her fingers through her brown hair. She nodded. "Thought it was time."

"Looks nice." He gulped, moving his mouth one way then the other.

"You look nice too." She licked her bottom lip, seeing his hair tied in a tiny ponytail; it looked different and she was intrigued. He was dressed in dark pants and a dark gray sweater that fitted him just right. He had a couple of days of scruff on his face and with it, he looked very handsome. "It's a surprise seeing you here."

Ben nodded. "My dad is feeling back to normal and--I just wanted to give them their privacy." He shrugged as he next said, "I wanted to get back to my art and—you. Even as we're separated by this glass, I just want to be near you."

He lifted his hand and placed it on the glass. Rey raised her hand and placed it opposite his. "Same," she said. They stared at each other making sure not to look away.

#reylo #reylo fanfic #rey x ben #long post

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