#so of course the first night he's gone the sliding lock for the patio door breaks

[fitveganlifts]

I always think I've got a handle on my anxiety and then something happens to set it off and I'm just suffering again lol

[fayeimara]

Suna Rintaro || Two of Hearts

*Song Scenario | Inspired by Two of Hearts by Stacy Q*

PAIRING. Suna Rintaro x you

GENRE. Fluff <3

WARNINGS. Incredibly suggestive, sexual innuendos & references, swearing, drinking

Ah- Ah-Ah-Ah- I need- I need you...

Low, provocative music filters through the lush backyard of your house, mixing into and around the louder cadence of chatter. The space is relatively private due to the large trees bordering your parents' property and provides the perfect setting for your small get together.

The boys and girls volleyball teams have gathered on an unusually warm evening to celebrate the end of their respective seasons, but for Suna Rintaro, the draw is something more compelling and far more complex than a casual night to finally let loose.

Looking up to observe the slow darkening of the sky, the middle blocker leans back against the low stone fence that separates the in-ground hot tub from the walkout patio. Keeping an eye on the stars instead of following his instinct to seek you out from among the group around him, Rintaro contemplates what exactly he's doing here tonight.

The game of cat and mouse between the two of you has built a certain tension, spilling over into your day to day interactions. Having grown closer as friends the last couple years, neither you nor Suna can pinpoint exactly when the dynamic changed but it's as undeniable as it is unspoken.

The hypnotizing melody of the song currently keeping him company amidst the usual bickering between the twins spins around him but as the chorus flies out, Suna hears the scrape of a screen door and can't stop himself from looking across the tiled patio to meet your eyes as you step out from inside the house with a red solo cup in one hand and ... a chuupet in the other.

Ignoring the warmth that spreads across his chest in time with the thundering of his heart, Rintaro simply tilts his head in reaction, eyeing you as you approach him with a smirk on your face.

"I figured you deserved a reward for keeping these two company while I placed our order for dinner."

Even as his piercing eyes narrow and remain on you in a penetrating stare, the smallest quirk of his lips is enough to tell you he appreciates the gesture, as he extends his hand out to meet yours in the space between you.

Ignoring the jitters of both nerves and excitement churning through your body, an anticipatory feeling you're now well used to whenever he turns that discerning gaze your way, you nonchalantly hand over one of the many jelly sticks you'd bought specifically with him in mind. Neither of you comment on the pause as your fingers brush together and linger for a moment that stretches in silence, where only you two exist, carved out from time.

Osamu's voice cuts through the moment with a bored tone as he ignores his brother's last words to him in favour of turning to face the two of you instead. "If you two are done, can we get back to everyone else? It's definitely someone else's turn to deal with this dumbass."

You and Suna both retract your hands back to your respective spaces without a word, you turning to 'Samu with a sudden, playful grin, "Oh yeah, and who's going to deal with him if not you?"

"Angel?! Where's my treat?" Atsumu's outraged query slips out more pouty than he probably intended and you fully intend to ignore it. He's comfortable enough in your home to grab his own preferred snacks after all. You do keep them stocked, as well, for both him and Osamu.

"That would be you." 'Samu's delayed answer to your own interrupted question is threaded with relieved amusement.

One of the pretty generous perks of being your best friends is that the twins get to fob each other off on you when they're each too overwhelmed with the other's antics or behaviour. Joy. But you signed up for this, didn't you?

Suna stays quiet during your interaction with the twins, stepping up to follow behind you as you move to the gate that separates the patio from the hot tub and pool, twins falling in behind him. Pushing off the cool tiles of the patio down to the previously sun-warmed stones, you grin at the calls from the rest of your guests, faces turning your way as the volume rises slightly with friends calling out about the antics you missed in the mere minutes you were gone.

Rintaro hasn't looked away from you, watching the gentle sway of your hair as you walk in front of him, the breeze catching strands and lifting them lightly in the air to dance around with abandon. Stopping suddenly with his chuupet clutched in one hand, Suna shoves the other into the waistband of his shorts, quelling the urge to reach forward again, this time to capture the playful locks and slide them through his fingers before ending in a tug that calls your attention back to him.

Atsumu provides a momentary distraction, brushing past him to race over to the others in the adjacent pool, tossing himself in the air with complete abandon before pulling his knees to his chest and dropping like a bomb into the water. Or a cannonball, supposedly, but it lacks the form to be called so.

Suna looks back to you only briefly, catching the amused look you throw over your shoulder at him, likely in solidarity of the shared thought. That's one of the things that takes his breath away to this day, how for someone that outwardly seems so different from him, you always surprise him by understanding his thoughts to an exhilarating degree.

It was just fascinating at first, then eventually amusing and familiar, to seek you out for your shared humour, claiming space rent free in Rintaro's thoughts until you finally nestled in as his electrifying comfort. You were the one who would always be looking back without fail, reflecting his thoughts with just one look in those mischievous, enigmatic eyes.

Breaking the eye contact as smoothly as you caught it, with that wry smile still curving your lips, you turn back to your conversation with the others. Suna isn't in one yet thankfully, having stopped halfway to the pool, but he's sure something has to be coming his way from the way 'Samu has also quietly stopped by his side, so he looks over and raises an eyebrow at his best friend, who just obstinately mirrors the expression.

"I don't know what you're waiting for me to say." Osamu finally speaks, happily losing the silent challenge as his lips curl in amusement at Suna's carefully blank expression.

"Who said I was?"

"Then I guess I won't tell you how much more obvious the tension is lately. Like a string about to snap."

Suna turns his head slightly away to cast a disinterested look from the corner of his eyes with his response, "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

And with that, he starts to walk away, turning his head fully forward only to be caught in an incredibly rare moment of complete surprise to find you suddenly in his path, having left your conversation with the others by the pool at some point.

"What he means by what?" Your intoxicating smile aimed up at him freezes Suna completely in his tracks and words, a potent desire sweeping through him to just lean down and capture your lips with his.

Where Osamu was just about to silently step away, Atsumu is the one that steps in to break the tangible intensity between his two best friends, running up between you and Rintaro, soaking and slightly chilly now from his dip in the pool.

"Angel! The sun's almost completely set, let's hop in the tub!"

You back away with a light laugh, from where you had just found yourself rooted in Suna's path when his eyes locked on yours with heated intent. You're still holding his gaze as you answer the setter, "Sure, 'Tsumu. Remove the cover will you?"

"Of course! 'Samu, Suna, c'mon!"

This time it's Rintaro who looks away, slowly and keeping steady, probing eye contact with you until he's fully turned away, to walk the few steps over to the hot tub. You watch as he crouches down and literally single-handedly tosses back the tub's heavy cover with a droll look aimed at Atsumu who just shrugs in that careless, single minded way of his.

Osamu simply stands there, arms crossed and eyes rolling upwards before looking back at you in a silent request to take pity on him. Right, you were supposed to spare him from his brother's exuberant energy for a bit.

With another laugh, this time at all of them, you walk up to join your friends, stepping up to the edge of the tub at Suna's side, close but ever so careful not to do more than lightly brush against him. You're addicted to this thrilling feeling, the way your heart races and skin tingles with electric heat.

You enjoy the rush as the four of you adjust the various controls to set the hot tub up just right for a relaxing soak, adding in the various scented salts that you've finally managed to get them to appreciate as the wonder they truly are for overworked muscles.

Several other friends either hop out of the heated pool or move from their comfortable seats by the poolside firepit to join the four of you, until there's eight in total. Perfect for an eight-seater tub, coincidentally.

While you quickly tie your hair up in a bun to keep it from swirling and tangling in the water, Atsumu ignores the steps down to the floor of the tub and just hops lightly in, somehow avoiding too much displacement of the water and managing to slip right in without a big splash.

Your eyes seek Suna's in amused bewilderment, thinking of 'Tsumu's much bigger splash earlier, and find him smirking back at you, completely in sync. It continues to take your breath away, this likeminded connection with someone seemingly so different from you.

Preoccupied with these thoughts, when you slide down into the heated water of the tub, you find your side also sliding against Suna, sensations alternating with the switch between fabric and skin until you're fully seated. Fighting your blush at the skin to skin contact, you can't resist the compulsion to glance up at him briefly only to find his gaze on you yet again. He doesn't say a thing, however, so you end up anchored to your spot, feeling more and more lightheaded every time one of you shifts but sure he'll catch on if you move away even a little now.

Suna, on the other hand, has never had to fight so hard to keep his expression neutral as the effort he's currently making. The urge to slip an arm around your waist and drag you even closer still, to tilt your head up and press his lips to yours, or even just to pull you over his lap and hold you to him with his face buried in your soft neck. Nothing he can do surrounded by so many people, especially when the two of you are 'just friends'.

Then, Ginjima, one of your other friends but also Suna and the twins' teammate, walks up to ask if there's room for one more in the tub and somehow, having stood in the shuffle to accommodate him, you end up pulled back on Atsumu's lap, the same seat by Suna's side that you'd occupied before now shared by you both.

The middle blocker finds himself clenching his jaw in painful resignation of his late reaction, reminding himself that not only is the setter your undeniably platonic friend but his own close friend as well, even if he did offer to move much too quickly.

At this point, as Suna is debating the merits of simply yanking you away to the only place you should rightfully sit, someone, probably Atsumu, decides to start in on a discussion about boys and girls, and what each likes in the other. You don't know what kind of questions might come your way but you're curious to hear your friends' answers, particularly one typically reserved friend.

It's Gin, now sitting across from you, that asks Suna about his preferences in a girl, teasing implication in his carefully worded question. Careful not to look either too interested or too disengaged to be natural nonchalance, you notice that, for once, Rintaro's not watching you but making steady eye contact with the wing spiker instead.

With a casual shrug, he answers, "I dunno. I guess it's cute when their hair's all tied up in that messy bun."

You make a concentrated effort not to raise your hand to your hair, smirking at Suna instead while you wait for him to decide who'll answer his question next. Somehow, you're not surprised when his eyes slide over to you, happy to have his gaze meeting yours again, even though your heart races at the intent in his eyes.

You know what it's going to be even before he asks you- "What do you like in a guy?"

It's likely your projection, but the night seems to get quieter, stars peeking out above you to watch what feels like a monumental moment, as everyone in the hot tub waits for your answer.

Raising an eyebrow as if in pensive thought, you briefly sift through what you can and shouldn't say in reply before the time seems to stretch too long to be normal and you decide on, "I dunno. I guess it's cute when they're all confidently direct."

His smirk is slow to appear, melting across his lips as if he's carefully analyzing the truths and hidden depths to your words and coming to his chosen conclusion.

"What a cop-out, princess." His hand rises from the water, droplets running back down his wrist and arms to their domain, as his forefinger meets his thumb to flick your forehead in retaliation but you're already angling your face away as you reach up to intercept him.

You end up grabbing his hand just before he can connect, giving him another arch look as you force his hand back down below the water, aware that if he'd really wanted to catch you off-guard, your reaction would have been much too late.

Everyone is watching, some chuckling at the quick exchange, and because you need the attention to divert as soon as possible, you look over your shoulder to narrow your eyes on Atsumu and challenge, "What don't you like in a girl, 'Tsumu?"

He throws his head back in laughter at your twist, arm flexing around your waist as he traps you down to harshly poke your side in subtle retribution, before he meets your eyes with his own burning with indignation at your implication and responds, "I can't say, Angel. I haven't been able to take my eyes off you long enough to tell."

There's a slight brush against the back of your hand under the bubbling water, but you think nothing of it as you roll your eyes in response, with enough exaggeration that everyone can read your genuine disbelief as if it weren't already radiating from your very core, "Right, or you're just a smooth talker that can't admit you're an extremely picky perfectionist."

"Or that." He agrees with another laugh as you dig your elbow back into his stomach as penance for putting you on the spot like that, but he ignores your literal jab and turns to his brother to throw your twist in the question his way.

You're actually curious to hear what the less talkative of your two friends has to say about his dislikes, but your attention is immediately drawn away when you feel yet another brush on the back of your hand and it's as if a spark lights and sets ablaze in your lower belly when you realize it's the textured pad of Suna's thumb.

If anyone chooses this moment to speak to you or ask you a question, there's entirely no way you'll be able to form a coherent answer because your brain is short-circuiting as you realize you're still holding Rintaro's hand under the water, having never let go from when you grasped it before. But... he hasn't pulled away either. No, instead he's rubbing small, maddeningly slow circles on the sensitive skin where your thumb meets your first finger.

It's all you can do to keep your eyes trained on whomever seems to be talking, focusing on keeping your breathing even and quelling any involuntary responses from your sudden awareness. Trying desperately not to unintentionally twitch or shift your hand, not until you can absorb the consequences of this new development, born from one too many bold actions.

If Suna's aware that you've caught on and yet continue to hold his hand, you'll both be crossing into unknown territory. But with your awareness, and likely sudden stillness, how could the perceptive middle blocker have not noticed?

With a calculated move, you lean further back into Atsumu - trying not to blush at the realization that you're sitting on one best friend's lap but completely drowning into the connection to other beside you - and you tilt your chin to glance up at the only one that can hold your thoughts hostage in a binding way. Even though you expect it, you're caught by the knowing look in his eyes when you find him already watching you back, both of you falling deep into the acknowledgement in each other's gaze.

You've clearly missed something though as the volume gets louder and your attention is pulled away, making the conscious choice to nonchalantly slip your hand from Rintaro's as you lightly lean forward again when Atsumu shifts.

"Of course, I can! Look, I'll show you right now!"

And before you know it, you're lifted up by the waist only to be deposited onto the only seat you really wanted, back when you had to move previously. Your entire body is thrown to havoc as, this time, its Suna's toned arm that curves around your bare waist, sliding against your sensitized skin and pulling you firmly to settle back into him without a single word.

You can't even comprehend that while Atsumu might have, quite literally in a sense, tossed you into the fox's den, there's nothing more alluring then the possibilities for how this can end. So you allow your tension to slip away as you relax back into your friend, whose thumb has now resumed its too recent pastime, except with new patterns played on the delicate skin of your waist and stomach.

When Rin speaks, you can quite literally feel the rumble in his chest, like the earth shifting and tilting you off balance with small tremors of sensation, to the point you almost miss his question, "What's that about?"

Suna supposes he should expect the look both 'Samu and Gin throw his way. Of all the people here, he's the one least likely to be unaware of what's been building right in front of him. But how can they fault his distraction when the reason for it is such an appealing temptation, and one he's now finally able to hold in his careful grasp, especially when he almost just felt you slipping away.

Gin, taking pity on his friend's obvious slip, answers, "What do you think? He's trying to prove that at least one person here won't name any traits of his as a personal dislike."

"Wow, he really likes a challenge." You let out a light laugh as you shift to look at Rin behind you, his smirk matching yours but something entirely different in the piercing light of his eyes. At this point, the two of you are already hopelessly transparent, so everyone politely ignores it when neither of you pull back to make further conversation.

Instead, when Suna speaks again, it's addressed directly to you in a low tenor, "Who doesn't?"

"I thought that would be you, no?" You're quick to reply with a teasing look at him.

His arm tightens around your waist before his next words, "I bet I can prove you wrong."

Your smile drops slowly as your mouth opens and then closes, searching for the words that have chosen to desert you. Rin just watches steadily, patiently waiting for your decision but filled with relieved elation when your hand finally rises to rest on his chest, resting just over his speeding heart.

Your next words almost trip over themselves with the sudden desire to reach his ears when Atsumu bounds back up to the tub, challenge momentarily forgotten because- "Dinner's here!"

The spell breaks as you tug both your gaze and your hand away, almost jerking in reaction as if you've somehow fused into him and need the extra force to separate from the magnetic pull.

You lift up quickly from the water with a cheerful excuse that you'll return shortly, avoiding the sardonic arch of Osamu's eyebrow and Atsumu's narrowed eyes. You can't even force yourself to meet Suna's gaze again just now.

Once you've put enough distance between you and the hot tub, you're able to finally dispel the building pressure and tension with a long, slow exhale, grabbing a fresh towel from the deck box to wrap around yourself before heading into your house.

Suna tilts his head back up to the stars, questioning if they're simply curious observers or maybe even mocking meddlers with timed disturbances, as he rubs his thumb against his now empty fingers. Missing the weight of your hand in his, pondering the perfect fit of your frame to his, and committing the silk of your smooth skin to eternal memory.

Fuck it. I don't want the memories.

Harshly lifting himself out of the water, he ignores his friends' questions and, without overthinking it for once, follows restlessly in your wake.

You've already directed the deliveryman to leave the takeout containers on the entryway table, paying and tipping him generously before locking the door behind him, when you hear the door to your backyard open and shut across the open space behind you. Thinking it's likely 'Samu, offering to help with the food so he can get to it faster himself, you're already gesturing towards the takeout boxes as you turn to face him.

You have only seconds to see Suna, dripping with water left in a careless trail behind him, before he's towering right in front of you. In a swift move, he curves his arm back around your waist to pull you up against him before capturing your lips with his.

The credit card in your hand drops to the floor with a faint clatter as everything fades around you except for the feel of Rintaro's mouth moving against yours, his arms tight around you as you melt into his demanding kiss. One of his arms loosens, hand sliding up along your spine before you feel a tug on the tie keeping your hair up in its messy bun.

As the strands escape to flow down your arched back, he captures them in a new constraint, leveraging his fisted grip in your hair to tilt your head and deepen the kiss. You find yourself carefully maneuvered as he moves forward into you until your back is hitting the door and then you're trapped between it's hard surface and Suna's unyielding frame.

Your eyes have long since closed as you feel yourself falling apart in the middle blocker's relentless embrace, so you're caught entirely by surprise when a throat quietly clears, followed by a familiar voice loudly exclaiming, "I knew it!"

You and Suna draw apart, not suddenly but slowly instead, as if waking from an exquisite dream that you both desperately wish would keep you in its grasp forever. There's barely a shred of space between you two and you lock eyes with each other momentarily, his peridot gaze trained on you as you each work catch your breath.

You're careful to clear your expression before looking over at the twins both standing there in mirrored stances, and with ironically identical, unsurprised looks on their faces.

When no one else speaks, Osamu states calmly into the ensuing silence, "Don't let us interrupt. We just came to see if we could help with the food."

"I called it! Didn't I 'Samu?" Atsumu's voice is smug with excitement and satisfaction.

"You sure did, 'Tsumu."

You exchange another look with Rin, yours unreadable and his searching for something more, before you address the twins. Or try to, because it seems like you're at a loss for words yet again. Suna's effect on you, it seems, stealing your words, breath, and heart, all in a single move.

"Do they know there's water everywhere?"

"I think they do."

The twins have picked up the containers and are already walking away, you can catch the movement in your peripherals but you don't move to follow them, not with your eyes or your physical self. Rintaro's made the final move to change this game that you both have been playing long enough, the least you can do is acknowledge his win.

So instead of turning away as you've so gotten used to doing, you reach up instead to wrap your arms around his neck, drawing his lips back to yours in an unspoken concession. You don't see his exhilarated smile as it tugs at his mouth, no, you feel it curving his lips as they return to press against yours once again.

This kiss is softer, gentler, a luxuriously slow celebration of your two hearts finally beating in sync, together as one.

A/N: This... one got me so much. It's based very closely on one of my own experiences which might have been why it just had to be Suna. It also took me so long as I wrote it over many separate days, coming back to it again and again. And the quiet middle blocker just kept taking over. There are still so many thoughts and moments remaining for this scenario, going wild in my head every time I revisit it. So many things Suna has left to say or do... No promises but, I suppose this might not be the end after all.

© 2021 fayeimara. All rights reserved. Please do not repost, modify, or claim as yours.

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Epilogue

cruel summer masterlist

AN: I swore to you I would have this posted before I moved, and I DID (I leave in 11 hours for my cross country drive). Sorry this took forever, I pretty much wrote... a 10k word sequel.

It seems that fate enjoys playing cosmic jokes on Rowan Whitethorn when it comes to the first day of summer.

He and Aelin were supposed to take off for Terrasen yesterday, in order to make it to opening day at the park. Then, after closing, he was going to take Aelin down to the water, beneath the docks, where they’d kissed for the first time. It was going to be perfect. Just the two of them, reunited by the water, watching the sun dip below the horizon, ready for a new summer of memories – this time to be made together. But today was a piece of shit, and everything had gone to shambles. With the app formally launching this week, Rowan’s office was in crunch mode. He tried to escape, but was held back with last minute bugs to fix. He sent Aelin off, telling her he’d meet her there as soon as he was freed from work. But before he knew it, yesterday turned into noon today. And somehow noon turned into five. And then to six. At seven, Rowan finally put his foot down and insisted he would answer any questions from the road. He’d be working remotely all summer anyway. He’d dictate code for them over the phone, if they needed. And they had. His front dash rings with an incoming call from Aelin as he speeds along the interstate, praying to the gods he doesn’t get pulled over. Although with the way his day is going, he wouldn’t be surprised. He sighs loudly in greeting.

“That bad, huh?” Aelin’s sleepy voice comes through the speakers. It’s already midnight, and he’s sure she’s about to fall asleep any second.

“I’ve had about six calls with Darrow,” Rowan sighs. He doesn’t really mind – he loves his job, and loves being part of this team. But, his boss’s perfectionist tendencies have him working long after the clock stops. “I’m so tired,” he complains. “Oh no,” Aelin coddles him. “How far away are you?” Rowan glances at his navigation. “Three hours out. If I don’t hit any more snags.” Aelin chuckles softly. “Yeah, you didn’t forget anything else important, did you?” Rowan groans, thinking of his absolute incompetence as a human. Maybe if he’d been less flustered about rushing  out of work and heading  to Terrasen, he wouldn’t have made this insane mistake. Nearly an hour on the road, Rowan realized he’d forgotten the most important item he needed this summer. Unconsciously, Rowan pats at his pants and finds the lump in his pocket easily. He swallows thickly. His entire plan would have been ruined without that tiny box. Unable to tell her what he really went back for, he lied and told Aelin he’d forgotten his wallet. She seemed to believe him, but he was now running two hours behind. He picks up his pace even more. “I miss you,” he sighs, and he can hear the crinkling of Aelin’s starchy sheets beneath her head as she rolls to her side. “You’ll have me soon enough,” she laughs. “I wish I could have you right now,” he whines, and he can hear the small hitch in Aelin’s breath before she replies. “Oh yeah? And what would you do to me?” Her voice is low and breathy, and he can’t help but groan her name in frustration. He’s been working his ass off prepping for this app launch. And with Aelin taking classes and studying for boards on top of teaching, they’ve both been far too tired to do anything but curl up in bed and sleep. Two exhausted ships passing in the night. Two exhausted, and clearly horny, ships. Rowan swears as arousal courses through his strained muscles. “Should I pull over?” he asks.

If Aelin wants help getting off through the phone, he’s not not participating. Rowan looks ahead to see when the next exit is. He’ll need to find somewhere dark and secluded fast. But Aelin hesitates, and he can practically see her flushed cheeks and wild eyes as she chews on her bottom lip as she debates her answer. “No,” she finally replies, resigned. “Just. Drive fast.” Rowan taps the accelerator a little harder, pushing his new car another few miles above the speed limit. “On it.” “Rowan?” She breathes softly into the receiver. “I don’t care how late it is, wake me up when you get here.” “Yes ma’am,” he laughs. “Love you,” she mumbles sleepily. Rowan blessedly doesn’t get pulled over, and somehow he makes up an entire hour, pulling up the long driveway to Ashryver Estate just after 2am. He turns the headlights off quickly, hoping he didn’t wake anyone. The house looks as imposing as always, its wide balconies and oversized windows glowing under the outdoor lights. But Rowan can’t help but think how different his life is from a single year ago. For one, he and Aelin will be sleeping in her room together, with the complete awareness and approval of her parents. Rowan assumed it would be weird for them to be in the house, so they rented a place of their own, but Rhoe and Evalin insisted they spend at least their first night with them. At least. He supposes when he’s been living with their daughter since last Yulemas and asked for her father’s approval of their marriage a few days later, it can’t be that weird. But still, Rowan’s excited to have their own place. Albeit. A much smaller. Less expensive place.

A large yawn rips its way from Rowan’s mouth, and he decides to leave his bag in the bag seat. He’ll get it in the morning. For now, he just wants to take off his work clothes and get into bed with Aelin.

But of course, nothing about today is easy. Rowan lifts the front mat, expecting the key beneath, but it’s missing. He checks his phone to see if Aelin told him they moved it elsewhere. But no. It’s supposed to be there for him. He reaches under a potted plant just to make sure. But still. No key. He jiggles the doorknob, hoping against all hopes that in this small beach town maybe they left the door unlocked for him. But it remains unmovable. Shit. The gods truly are against him. Rowan flicks his cellphone light on, searching the small path that leads to the backyard. Thorns from the overgrown rose bushes scrape his arms, and he hisses as one catches his skin. Fuck this day. Once he makes it safely to the back patio, he attempts the sliding door, but of course, it is locked, too. Rowan glances at the rose trellis, leading up to the second floor balcony he knows so well. It’s been a while since he climbed it, but he thinks he can. He grasps at the holds above his head and pulls himself up, one foothold at a time. As he launches himself over the railing and onto the balcony, he prays to every god he knows that Aelin has left her window unlocked. It doesn’t budge.

Crouched uncomfortably, Rowan lifts his tender knuckles and knocks against the glass of the large window. He watches as Fleetfoot lifts her head, wondering where the knocking is coming from. She spots Rowan and thumps her tail against Aelin’s fluffy comforter, but doesn’t bark or come to greet him. She’s not exactly the best guard dog.

Rowan knocks again, this time a little louder, and he watches as Aelin sleepily rouses from her slumber. He knocks a third time, and Aelin looks around, confused, obviously thinking that he’d woken her from inside the room. He waves from his crouch as she finally locates him on the other side of the glass.

She pads barefoot across the room and unlatches the window, which finally swings open easily.

“Feeling nostalgic?” she asks, her eyes squinting with unreleased laughter.

“Ha ha.” Aelin is the only one laughing as she helps Rowan through the window, but he can’t help but smile at the way her arms circle his waist and pull him towards the bed at the center of the room. “Where’d the front door key go?”

“Oh no, I forgot to put it back? I must have been more tired than I thought…”

He nods, and her arms squeeze his waist tighter, apologizing with her touch. A shiver runs up Rowan’s spine as her warm hands push the hem of his shirt up his back.

“If you’re too tired,” Rowan begins, but his words are muffled by Aelin tugging his shirt up and over his head. “This can wait until tomorrow…” Her fingers splay across his bare chest, and her lips brush against his shoulder, her eyes dark with want as she insists.

“We’ll sleep in tomorrow,” she insists, tilting her chin up towards his.

Rowan lowers his head to hers, and she hums happily as his mouth caresses hers. He doesn’t have to be asked twice. He lets Aelin lead the way, crawling onto the bed on top of her. Aelin’s hands immediately go for his belt buckle, and he helps her, kicking off his pants one leg at a time as he pushes her nightgown over her head.

Clothes scatter across Aelin’s bedroom floor as the pair climb under the covers. Fleetfoot dodges his flying briefs with a loud huff and slinks under the bed, causing both Aelin and Rowan to laugh. But they aren’t distracted by the dog’s antics for very long. Within seconds, the pair is wrapped up in each other, finally after so long, relishing in the feel of being skin to skin. Rowan’s hands skim up her thighs, and he kisses every inch of her neck and shoulders he can reach. He has every intention of taking his time and worshipping her body, something they haven’t had the privilege of doing in weeks, but Aelin has other thoughts in mind.

She guides his hand between her legs, showing him how much she wants him, moisture dripping onto his fingers before he’s barely even touched her.

“Please, Rowan,” she moans, and Rowan chuckles into her cheek, whispering into her ear with a quiet. “Bossy.”

“You like it,” she says, smirking softly.

He does. He loves when she takes charge. But he doesn’t let it happen for very long. Before she can finish her sentence, Rowan lines himself up with her and slides into her with a deep thrust.

Aelin gasps and wraps her legs around him, digging her heels into his ass as he sits back on his heels and grasps her hips. He’s overwhelmed, as he always is when he first enters Aelin. Warmth spreads through his body as he adjusts their position and pace, lifting her hips off  the mattress to meet him as he kneels in front of her. He loves her this way, splayed out for him, her hair a tangled, golden mess haloed around her head. She breathes heavily with each torturously slow movement of his hips. She bites down on her lip, but releases a too loud, breathy moan regardless.

Rowan shushes her through his chuckles, loving that even after a year, this hasn’t remotely gotten old.

“C’mere.” She reaches out for him, and Rowan is helpless before her commands. He lowers her hips and leans down to kiss her. Fingers tug at his hair, keeping him pressed against her face. Even when their kiss breaks, they’re content to just breathe into each other’s mouths as he moves inside her slowly and deliberately, savoring each moment.

Rowan increases his pace, feeling them both on the brink, Aelin’s nails digging into his back, his lips at her neck – when the doorbell rings.

They both freeze. Rowan stills his hips, and Aelin’s gaze swings to the door.

“Was that our house?” she asks, eyes wide. The doorbell is followed by several knocks.

“Uh, I think so,” Rowan says, glancing at the clock, which now reads 3 am. Who the hell could that be? Fleetfoot pokes her nose out from under the bed and slinks towards the door to sniff under it.

“Do you think if we stay quiet they’ll go away?” Aelin whimpers, grasping his neck tighter. “I’m so close,” she half cries-half laughs. Rowan joins her.

“Me too,” he says, letting his head drop onto her shoulder.

“Just finish quickly,” she says, tilting her hips toward his, and Rowan chuckles into her skin.

Rowan refuses to move as he hears two pairs of footsteps coming down from the third floor. Aelin’s parents.

They listen as the front door opens, but are unable to pick out any words. The door closes just as fast, and he can feel Aelin relax and push her hips against his as her parents make their way back upstairs. He finally gives in and starts moving again, much to both their relief.

The relief is short-lived, though.

“Um, Aelin?” Evalin calls from the other side of the door, accompanied with a quick knock, and Rowan has the good sense to roll off to the other side of the bed, grumbling the entire way, upset to be cockblocked as Aelin tosses on her nightgown. Whatever was happening is officially over now. Rowan briefly wonders if it’s a cursed day as Aelin swings her door open.

“Is everything okay?” she asks her mom breathlessly, and Rowan tucks himself further under the blanket, willing his still prominent erection to subside quickly.

Suddenly, two cops emerge, and Aelin crosses her arms over her chest, backing up into the darkness of her room. Rowan would like to throw a robe over her, too, by the way the two cops are looking at her, but he can’t exactly go anywhere right now.

“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” the shorter of the two begins. “But we were notified by your neighbor of a breaking and entering? We wanted your permission to sweep your room for any intruders.”

Rowan groans loudly and lets his head fall back against the pillow as Aelin snorts.

“I’m so sorry to waste your time, officers,” Aelin says politely. “But, uh, there’s been a huge misunderstanding.”

Her eyes flick to Rowan’s, who is still under the covers, but based on the state of the pair of them, there’s little question as to what they’ve been up to.

“Let me guess?” the other cop snickers. “Intruder?”

Rowan waves, and Rhoe and Evalin smile as they wave back.

“Rowan, when did you get in?” Rhoe asks, failing to hide his smile behind his hand.

But Rowan’s fairly certain this day could not get any worse. He’s still erect beneath the covers, and completely naked, and his nearly naked girlfriend is being interrogated by the cops and her parents. He wants to die.

“I forgot to leave the key out for my boyfriend,” Aelin explains. “So, he climbed up the trellis into my room.”

The cops apologize for the late-night intrusion, and Rhoe finally laughs fully. “As you were…”

They close the door with a soft click, and Rowan groans, falling back onto the pillow as Rhoe and Evalin head back upstairs, taking Fleetfoot with them.  

“Intruder,” Aelin laughs as she closes her bedroom door. “The Cortlands would never have called the cops.”

Rowan perks up at that. “Oh yeah, who’d they sell to?”

“I don’t kno-oww!” Aelin hisses in pain and clutches at her foot. “Ow, what the hell did I just step on?” she cries again, stumbling her way over to the light switch. “Was that your belt buckle? Shit, that hurt.”

Rowan squints as the bright bulb illuminates the room, and his heart stops as he sees what Aelin holds in her hand. Aelin stares with wonder at the tiny box that he’s managed to keep from her since he purchased it last December. Six months living together, and she never suspected once. In his haste to disrobe earlier, it must have fallen out of his pocket. He forgot it was even in there. He’s a fucking idiot.

Aelin’s jaw drops as she looks from the box up to Rowan, her blue gold eyes swimming with awe and confusion.

“Rowan?”

Her voice sounds so small and timid and so un-Aelin like, and Rowan’s stomach drops. Does she not want this?

“I swear to the gods, it was going to be perfect,” Rowan says, scrubbing at his face with his hand. He watches as Aelin’s eyes grow impossibly wider. He closes his eyes and imagines the scene he’d wanted so badly. ”I had it all planned out for today. But, then today happened.” He He sighs loudly.” Six months of waiting… to find your ring on the fucking floor.”

He hates the spike of insecurity and flagellation that fills his brain, ready to convince him he’s useless. He’s gotten better about his negative self-talk over the last year, but sometimes old habits are hard to break.

“Six months?” she asks, fiddling with the box in her fingers.

“Yulemas shopping,” Rowan chuckles to himself, but there’s no humor to be found there.

“Rowan.” She repeats his name, nothing more than a whisper from the other side of the room.

“I used to feel like the lesser party in this relationship. And I swear, I don’t feel like that anymore. But, the way this has happened, I’m feeling pretty useless. That, or this proposal is cursed.”

“Can I see it?” she whispers, and Rowan suddenly feels even more nervous, if that were even possible.

He nods, feeling the strain in his throat as it bobs uncomfortably, his throat suddenly dry.

She cracks the box open, and Aelin breathes in sharply as she picks up the emerald, flanked by two smaller diamonds, and laid into a platinum band. It had cost two full months of his paycheck, but he’d seen it and immediately known it was meant to sit on Aelin’s finger for the rest of her life.

She approaches the bed slowly, and his body warms as her awed expression turns into a brilliant smile. He loves when she looks at him like that. Like he’s special. She straddles his lap, bringing one knee to either side of his waist and wraps one arm around his neck, the other cradling the box in her hand still.

Her lips press against this over and over again as she whispers between kisses, “Yes, yes, yes, yes.”

Rowan’s heart pumping wildly as he pulls back to look at her.

“Yeah?” he asks, and she replies quickly.

“Oh yeah.” She grins and kisses him again. “And if you want to do your plan tomorrow, I am all yours,” she says, and Rowan’s heart feels like it’s going to explode of joy.

He slides the ring onto her finger. It looks just as perfect there as he’d imagined, and he can’t resist perssing the newly jeweled hand against his thrumming heartbeat.

“I’ll give it back in the morning,” she says, a small tear trickling down her cheek.

She can’t stop smiling, and neither can Rowan, both of them mumbling “I love you,” over and over as Aelin climbs into his lap to finish what they started earlier in the evening.

~*~

Rowan wakes before Aelin, which is highly unusual, but she did say she was tired. He glances at the glittering gems on her finger and kisses it softly. He can’t believe this beautiful creature is actually going to marry him.

“Mmm,” she smiles back in her sleep, and he can’t resist pressing his lips against hers.

As he distracts her with sleepy kisses, he slides the ring off her finger, and she pouts immediately. “I’ll give it back soon, I promise,” he says softly, and her smile returns. The ring finds its way back into the small velvet box without any problems, and Rowan pulls on clothes from the floor and pockets it immediately. “Coffee?” he whispers into her ear, and Aelin nods, eyes still closed.

Rowan heads downstairs and grabs his bag from his car, and decides to shower before bringing Aelin coffee. After working all day, then sitting in a car for nine hours, and then engaging in sexual activity for most of the night, he could really use a shower. Plus, maybe he can tempt Aelin into joining him, he thinks.

Upstairs, though, Aelin is already in the bathroom and looking worse for wear. Dark circles rim her undereye, and her cheeks looks pale and sweaty. She flushes the toilet and walks slowly to the sink to rinse out her mouth.

Rowan drops his bag from his shoulder and rushes to her. “Aelin? Are you okay?”

She shakes her head and shrugs. “I think you might be right about the cursed proposal. I’m so sorry,” she apologizes, splashing water onto her ashen face. “A few of my students had this stomach thing, and I thought I escaped it, but…”

She stops and breathe slowly through her nose and out through her mouth. Her eyes flick to Rowan’s in the mirror, looking disappointed and upset.

“Hey, hey,” he reassures her, pushing back her damp hair from her clammy forehead. “You never have to apologize for getting sick.”

Aelin had also caught the flu from one of her students in January, a terrible cold in March, and strep throat that turned into an ear infection in April. Rowan was extremely grateful she’d already gotten the chicken pox otherwise their May would have been really upsetting. It turns out Aelin’s immune system kind of sucks.

“Good thing is it’s only a twenty-four-hour bug, so we can just push until tomorrow?” she says hopefully.

Rowan kisses the top of her head. “Get back in bed. We’ll worry about that when you’re feeling better.”

Aelin grumbles all the way back to bed, but she must be feeling extremely sick if she followed his directions so quickly. Aelin is one of those suffer in silence such people, who likes to think that if she doesn’t acknowledge not feeling well then she won’t be sick. As if she ignores her problems they’ll cease to exist. Rowan has to admit, when he discovered that he was fairly relieved. He’d thought it only applied to him. Oh how wrong he was. If the fact that she climbs into bed without any hesitation is any indication, she currently feels like shit.

“Who gets sick during the summer?” she complains to herself, but when Rowan comes out of the shower, she’s already fast asleep again.

He wanders downstairs to grab coffee for himself and is only slightly surprised to see the whole family there.

“Uncle Rowan!” Gavin cheers, throwing himself around Rowan’s thighs.

“Hey, bud, you’re getting really tall,” Rowan laughs. “And strong,” he continues, realizing he’s unable to walk with the little boy grasping his legs.

“Where’s Auntie Ae?” Gavin asks, his blue eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. Rowan recognizes that look. It’s the look of a man obsessed with Aelin Ashryver. He doesn’t particularly blame the child.

“She’s still sleeping,” Rowan answers the little boy, who immediately looks disappointed.

“Someone wore her out?” Lysandra jests, welcoming Rowan with a warm hug and a nudge to his ribs.

“Very funny.” Rowan says, though his tone lacks any humor.

Aedion snorts. “Come on, it’s a little funny. And a great story. Locked out, and then interrupted by the cops while banging?”

Rhoe chokes on his coffee. “I don’t think I used the word banging.”

“No, you used the words ‘being intimate’ which is somehow much grosser,” Aedion laughs again, taking a long sip of his coffee.

Rowan’s cheeks are burning, he can feel the flames go all the way up to his ears. This is why he’s grateful he and Aelin have their own rental they can check into tomorrow.

He ignores the conversation at the table and instead lets them know Aelin isn’t feeling well.

“So she’s not coming to the park today?” Gavin pouts.

“I don’t think so, but maybe tomorrow?”

Appeased, Gavin rushes off to play with Fleetfoot..

Rowan wishes the family a good time at the park and heads back upstairs, wanting to check in on his sick girlfriend. Wait, no. Not girlfriend. Fiancée. He grins at that.

Upstairs, he climbs into bed next to Aelin’s slumbering form. She immediately curls into his thigh, and his mouth twitches upward when she sighs his name in her sleep. His fingers run through her hair, and he basks in a moment of silent happiness. In sickness and in health, right? While Aelin sleeps, Rowan opens his laptop to see about a hundred emails waiting for him. He answers them dutifully as he sips his coffee. His work only halts when Aelin launches herself out of bed and stumbles to the bathroom, still half asleep. He itches to help her, but he’s learned from previous experience that Aelin does not like to be coddled when she’s sick. Instead, he opens her windows to let some fresh air in. The room fills quickly with the crisp scent of salty sea air traveling on a breeze. The shower turns on in the bathroom, and Rowan returns to his never-ending emails while he waits for her to emerge.  A cloud of steam billows around her skin as she opens the door. Her skin has regained some color, a pink flush to her cheeks and her eyes look brighter. “Napping helped?” “How long was I out for?” she asks, her voice hoarse as she curls back up next to him. He glances at his watch. “Only a few hours. How are you feeling?” “Like crap,” she laughs. “You should go downstairs. You do not want to catch this.” “I don’t know,” Rowan says, stroking her cheek. “I wouldn’t mind staying in bed for a few days.” Aelin shivers and nuzzles further into his side. “You’ll mind it when you’re hunched over the toilet.” She sniffs the air and a greyish pallor takes over her complexion. “If nothing else, can you take your coffee cup downstairs. The smell of anything food-related is...” “Not good?” he asks, and as Aelin goes to shake her head, she rushes into the bathroom again and slams the door shut. As loathe as he is to leave her, Aelin is right. He can’t afford to get sick right now. So, Rowan takes his laptop out to the patio with Fleetfoot keep him company as he finishes his work. When Aelin finally makes her way downstairs at the end of the day, she looks significantly better. The whole family sits at the dinner table, and their heads swivel to the disheveled blonde, still wearing her pajamas. “You look like you’re feeling better.” Aelin nods in affirmation and Rowan breathes a sigh of relief that it seems the worst has passed. “Can I make you toast, Fireheart?” Evalin asks her daughter, who wrinkles her nose at the large dinner spread on the table. “No, I need something cold for my throat.” She pats at her neck. “Do we have any ice cream?” Rhoe laughs. “Yeah, she’s feeling better.” “Freezer,” Evalin directs her, and Aelin makes herself a bowl of mint ice cream quickly before taking a seat on Rowan’s knee. Rowan looks at Aelin’s empty ring finger as she eats. He can’t wait for tomorrow. Can’t wait to make it official. ~*~ “Twenty-four-hour bug, my ass,” Aelin frowns as she exits the bathroom the next morning. She’d been so convinced it’d passed when her ice cream stayed down last night. Apparently not. “This is the worst.”

Rowan pats the fluffy comforter next to him, and Aelin crawls on top, cuddling into his side like a cat. It’s been a long time since she felt this sick before. And she had the flu earlier this year. Stupid music students and their germy fingers!

“Rowan,” she whispers, wondering if she should admit what she’s about to admit. “I’m starting to believe in the curse.”

Rowan snorts too loudly, taking her comment as a joke, but she’s not so sure. Three days in a row his plans have gone to shit, and Aelin is starting to feel antsy to have that stunning ring on her finger again. She missed its weight as soon as he pulled it off yesterday, and she’s ready for it to be returned to its rightful owner. Her.

As if he senses her agitation, Rowan drags his fingers through her hair, scratching her scalp and playing with the strands like he knows she likes. Her eyes flutter close, and within a few minutes, she’s asleep again. Aelin wakes again in the late afternoon feeling groggy but with an even stomach. She takes a quick shower and brushes her teeth and heads downstairs, where Rowan is lounging out on the back patio. His computer glasses are perched on his nose as his fingers type a mile a minute, probably fixing some bug that Darrow couldn’t reprogram. His brows are furrowed, and he bites his lip – his concentrating face.

He finally looks up as she approaches the doorway, and she watches as his wrinkled forehead smooths out, his serious face replaced by one of delight. It makes her heart beat faster.

“You must be feeling a lot better than this morning if you’re looking at me like that,” Rowan says, closing his computer and standing to greet her. His arms welcome her with a warm embrace, and she inhales deeply as he wraps his arms around her, tugging her close.

“Is everyone at the park?” she asks, lifting an eyebrow suggestively, and she can’t help but smile as Rowan’s eyes darken.

“What happened to being concerned about me getting sick?” he asks as his fingers trail patterns against the thin fabric of her tank top.

“Who said we had to fuck face-to-face?” Aelin says, tugging his shirt with her hands. “Just bend me over the kitchen island.”

“Aelin,” he groans, pressing his face into the top of her head. She can feel his chest vibrate with laughter against hers, letting her know that her idea is  being rejected. But if the other things moving against her are any indication, he’s not completely disinterested.

“As tempting as that sounds,” he begins, and by the look on his face, she knows he’s been thoroughly tempted, “I was kind of hoping not to be interrupted the next time we do it. If you’re really feeling better, though, maybe we should move into our own place tonight?”  

Aelin grins excitedly. As much as she loves Ashryver Estate, she’s thrilled she and Rowan will have their own place this summer. Where they can be as loud as they want. And desecrate every single surface.

It takes them barely thirty minutes to pack, and Aelin calls her parents to let them know they won’t be there when they return. Aelin assures her parents she feels better, that the bug has run its course, and apologizes for sneaking out while they’re gone.

She and Rowan pull up to the small brown house nearly simultaneously. It’s not on the beach, about a fifteen-minute drive from Aelin’s parents, and about a ten-minute walk to Lysandra and Aedion’s, on a small residential street dotted with lush green trees and bright verdant lawns. They drop their bags in the foyer and immediately wander around the place, taking in the cozy, beach town vibes.

The backyard is perfect, and Rowan opens the screened in porch door for Fleetfoot to run around the wide gated lawn. At the center is a long, narrow pool, which glistens a bright turquoise. Aelin can’t wait to spend her summer lounging in it.

As they make their way back into the house, they finally make their way to the kitchen. Its immaculate marble counters are dotted with decorative bowls of lemons, and Aelin notices Rowan nearly drooling at the Viking double ovens. But what has her attention is right in the middle of the room.

Rowan follows her gaze and his green eyes darken, a shade of forest that she knows means trouble for her. The pair practically race to the kitchen island, and they make good on Aelin’s earlier suggestion, well into the evening.

~*~

Aelin wakes in the middle of the night, gasping for air, feeling overheated in her own skin. She must have had a nightmare, but she can’t remember what about. She looks down at a dreaming Rowan for comfort, his eyelashes twitching against his tanned cheeks, and feels her heart swell in her chest. She loves this man so much. She can’t believe she’s going to be his wife. Years ago, when Chaol had thrown around the word “marriage,” she’d flinched. Literally. Flinched. Now, she aches to let everyone know that this man is going to be her husband.

She leans down and kisses his bare shoulder. “Rowan,” she whispers against his skin, and he stirs slightly. “Rowan, wake up.”

He startles awake, bolting upright faster than he has any right to do, and looks her over seriously. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she says, and he exhales quickly.

“Why am I waking up then?” he asks, looking at the clock. It’s barely past 4 am.

“I know you wanted to do your perfect proposal, but…” Rowan’s face pales in the moonlight, and Aelin reaches out to reassure him quickly. “I don’t need a perfect proposal. I knew when we left here last summer that you were it for me. You’re kind and funny, and you understand my terrible humor without making me feel stupid about it.” Rowan smiles at that one, making her stomach flutter. “You’re ambitious and proud, but you have never asked me to change what I want or to make myself bigger or smaller. You just love … me.” He swallows and nods. He does. She knows he does. Which is why, she barrels on, confessing what she’s been ruminating over the last two days in bed.

“I want to marry you so much,” she breathes, her voice cracking with the weight of her emotion. “And even though I don’t know what your plans were, I know this wasn’t even close to what you imagined. But,” she pauses and bites at the skin on her lip as Rowan leans closer. “I can’t imagine us doing anything traditionally, can you?” He shakes his head and rubs his thumb against her bottom lip, unhooking it from her tooth. She smiles at the gesture. “I loved my accidental proposal,” she says more boldly, “And I want to tell everyone I know immediately. I want to have a celebratory dinner with all our friends, and I…” Her voice cracks again as a rogue tear falls from her eye. “…want my ring back.”

“Right now?” Rowan asks, unshed tears in his eyes, and Aelin nods readily. As Rowan crosses the room to the dresser and pulls the small velvet box from his sock, Aelin’s heart starts pounding again. This is really happening.

He shakes his head slightly as he opens the box and pulls out the ring. It gleams under the soft glow of the moon, casting emerald shadows across their white duvet.

“You know, that was a hell of a proposal, Ms. Ashryver.” He smirks, and she cocks her eyebrow in return.

“So what’s your answer, Mr. Whitethorn?”

He pretends to look pensive for a second, before sliding the ring back onto her finger. It fits perfectly. “Yes, I think I’d like to marry you,” he says, leaning close to her lips. “And what about you? You’ll marry me, too?”

“I already said yes,” she whispers. The tension hums between them, both their hearts pounding with the electric current of their promises. “Yes,” she answers again, and Rowan pulls her beneath the blankets with him.

~*~

“You know your initials are going to spell AAW, now, which I find absolutely adorable,” Lysandra says as she takes Aelin’s splayed hand in her grasp. Her eyes narrow in on the new piece of jewelry, examining it like a hawk.

“It’s stunning, Ae,” she concludes, and Aelin can’t help but peer over Lysandra’s shoulder to grin at the man of the hour, taking beers out of their fridge.

“I know,” Aelin says, her cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so much at her family and friends’ enthusiasm over their “very expected” nuptials, as Manon put it.

The doorbell rings, and Aelin attempts to extract herself from the small circle of women who have huddled around her hand to “oo” and “ah,” at her ring, but Rowan is faster. He welcomes her parents into their abode with a wide smile. Evalin and Rhoe drop off giant catering tins filled with food, prepared by Emrys, on the kitchen island.

Rowan throws Aelin a knowing smirk, and her cheeks pink remembering the thorough way they debased that particular part of the house last night.  

Lysandra chuckles softly and whispers in her ear, “I hope you Cloroxed that.”

Aelin’s pink cheeks darken, heating wildly at Lysandra’s knowing smile. She must look shocked, because Lys simply shakes her head and shrugs. “How do you think we got two kids? Please. Aedion and I used to screw on every surface in—”

“Okay!”  Aelin holds up her hand. “I don’t need to know.” She gags, feeling slightly queasy at the image of her brother and his wife going at it. “But yes, we invested in Clorox wipes this summer.”

“Smart girl,” she says, squeezing Aelin’s shoulder lightly.

Aelin rolls her eyes and heads to the island to help her fiancé unpack the food and welcome her parents. They greet her with hugs and kisses, and Evalin can’t stop smiling. Neither can Aelin, though. She’s getting married. To Rowan. She’s never felt this kind of happiness.

When Aelin goes to lift the foil from the food, Rowan pushes her away. “Go, sit. I’ll make you a taco.”

The food smells heavenly. Emrys has outdone himself, Aelin thinks to herself as she takes in the spread of multiple taco fillings and accoutrements. And in a separate Tupperware, just for her, is her favorite potato salad, labeled with her name and the word, “Congratulations!” underneath. She thinks she might cry.

“Grilled adobo chicken with corn salsa, guac, and cheese?” she asks, and Rowan nods.

“Chips?” he asks, and she shakes her head, instead pointing to her special Tupperware. He winks at her and shoos her away, back to entertain everyone as he calls out, “Food’s ready!” A line forms across the island, and Rowan oversees food distribution as Aelin wanders back out to heir friends. She knows what he’s doing. By staying by the food, Rowan doesn’t have to socialize or make small talk. Things he loathes. She doesn’t call him out, letting him retreat to his comfort place of the kitchen as she makes her way out to the screened in porch where most everyone is sitting.

“So, when do we get proposal details?” Elide asks, sipping at her beer. Lorcan frowns, commenting that proposals are private, and Aelin briefly wonders if those two are next in line to walk down the aisle.

She smiles as slides onto the chaise next to an outstretched Dorian, who’s already working on his third beer, and tells a very vague and abridged version of their proposal.

Manon laughs every step of the way, relishing in the ridiculousness of their premature proposal. “And the ring traveled across the room from his pocket, hm? How aggressively was he kicking them off?”

“Manon, my family is here,” Aelin hisses.

“Your family knows what you two were up to in your bedroom all last summer,” Aedion laughs loudly, “And apparently this summer,” he continues, pulling Lysandra into his lap, as the room bursts into laughter at Aelin’s expense.

“I hate you all,” Aelin groans as Rowan walks into the porch, both their plates in hand.

“I hope not,” he says as he hands off the plate to Aelin. “Otherwise, the rest of our lives are going to be pretty awkward…”

“You know I love you,” Aelin says, batting her eyelashes. “You bring me food.”

Rowan rolls his eyes and takes a large bite of his taco. Aelin does the same and nearly moans in satisfaction. It’s so spicy and so good. She really hopes it stays down. The only food she’s had in the last two days has been ice cream and toast.

As she devours her plate, she listens to Elide and Lorcan’s summer plans, nodding and hmming in all the right places. She saved her potato salad for last, because you should always save the best for last, and excitedly plops a piece into her mouth. She chews twice before she spits it back out onto the plate. The whole room silences.

“Sorry,” Aelin apologizes, covering the chewed potato with a napkin. “I think the mayo was off.”

Rowan takes a bite of it himself and cocks his head to the side. “It tastes fine to me. Are you sure you’re not still sick?” he asks, leaning over to feel her forehead. It flushes under his touch, but not because she’s sick. She’s been fine for over twenty-four-hours.

“I’m fine,” Aelin whines. “But that mayo was not.”

Manon opens her mouth and closes it. And then opens it again. “Maybe you’re pregnant.”

“No…” Rowan and Aelin reply quickly at the same time, before glancing at each other, and then back at the room filled with their friends and family. Their expressions range from amused to suspicious to horrified to confused, and suddenly Aelin thinks she’s going to be ill all over again.

“That’s not possible,” Aelin comments confidently. There’s no way. She went back on the pill as soon as she went home last summer. Although now that she’s thinking about it, she’s not a hundred percent sure she actually bled during her last placebo pill week. But she must have, right?

“Aelin?” Rowan asks, his voice unreasonably high. He leans forward and places his hand on her knee, and she looks down at it, placing her hand atop it, before looking back at him.

“I think we should go to the pharmacy.”

“Oh, I’m coming too!” Elide announces, downing the rest of her beer.

Aelin rushes out of the house without saying goodbye to anyone. She assumes Rowan makes some excuse for their departure, but she doesn’t have time to delay. She needs to know and needs to know now. How the hell could this have happened? There must be some other explanation. Her knuckles are white on the steering wheel as Rowan hops into the passenger seat, and Elide slides into the back.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, and Aelin nods tersely.

“Uh huh,” she replies, but she’s not entirely sure how she feels.

Inside the pharmacy, Aelin pulls three different brands of pregnancy tests. Rowan stands awkwardly beside her, arms crossed, perusing the back of each.

“I don’t know,” he says calmly, but his wild green eyes betray his panic. “Is there a best brand?”

Aelin doesn’t know. She decides to get all three.

As they wait in the check-out line, Elide giggles loudly.

“Aw man,” she places a hand each on Rowan and Aelin. “Remember the last time I ran into you here? You were buying condoms.” Her eyes flick to the pregnancy tests. “Why’d you stop using them?”

“Elide!” Aelin hisses, and Elide grimaces at her tone. Rowan pays quickly and swipes the bag of the counter and returns to the car. She looks at Rowan, his eyes simmering with worry as he looks her over. “The mayo was off… wasn’t it?” she asks again, and Rowan reaches for her hand, taking it in his larger one and shakes his head.  

Aelin speeds home, ignoring everyone as she makes her way into the guest bathroom and pees on every single stick. She’s taking no chances. She sets a three-minute timer on her phone, and slinks against the bathroom door, falling until her butt hits the cold tile of the floor. This was absolutely not the engagement celebration she had anticipated.

Through the door, she can hear Rowan lean against the other side. He must be sitting, too. His head thumps against the wood and she breathes in deeply, eyes screwed closed.  

“I love you,” he murmurs against the door, sliding his fingertips through the crack beneath it. Aelin brushes her own against his, and she releases some of the panic she’s been holding in her shoulders at his calming touch.

She stays like that, until her alarm goes off. And she can feel that tension creeping back into her body, which is suddenly frozen with fear.

“I can’t look,” she says.

“You have to look,” Rowan insists through the door.

“I don’t want to,” she groans. “And I don’t have to.” She pauses. “You can.”

She can hear his sharp exhale. “Do you want me to?”

“Please,” she says quietly, and she can hear him stand. The doorknob turns and he pushes the door open. Aelin shifts slightly so he can get through, and he walks straight to the counter top where the tests are laid out, getting her pee all over one of the fancy hand towels.

Aelin closes her eyes tightly, thinking that if she closes her eyes, she won’t have to see the result. But of course. She forgot about her ears. Rowan’s breath stays steady as he turns and crouches in front of her.

“You’re pregnant,” he whispers. Aelin’s heart thuds. She knew she was. As soon as Manon said the word, she knew.

“It was those stupid antibiotics when I had strep,” Aelin grumbles, putting her face into her hands. “I knew there was a chance, and I didn’t say anything. Why didn’t I say anything?” This was so not the plan. Her feelings are all over the place. “Rowan, what are we going to do?”

She opens her eyes, shocked to see how close Rowan is to her. He cradles her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her cheeks gently as he probes into her with a loving gaze. It takes her aback for a second. The way he looks at her. Gods, she loves him so much. She blinks and is surprised when a tear rolls down her cheek. He wipes it away and kisses it. The small gesture is enough to solidify how Aelin feels.

“I know this isn’t the right time for us. It’s so soon, and you’re in the middle of your schooling, and I’m going to be looking for a new app to work on soon, so… if you don’t a baby right now…” He swallows, his voice pained as he continues forward, and Aelin can’t gasp soon enough. “I’ll support you no matter what—”

“No!” Aelin shakes her head.

“No?” Rowan asks, quirking his head to the side, and Aelin finally lets her tears spill over her cheeks.

“No.” She shakes her head, giving him a watery smile. “This is our baby. I want this.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and she nods again, blinking rapidly. She can’t blink the tears away fast enough, so Rowan kisses them away, pressing his lips against her eyes and her cheeks until her crying abates.

The pair kissing in the bathroom don’t even notice when their party departs, too busy being wrapped up in one another.

~*~

Rowan is woken up in the middle of the night, again, by his fiancée. He loves her more than anything, but he’d really enjoy a full night of sleep one of these nights. Preferably without her yelling at him.

“Rowan!” she growls, rousing him from his pleasant dreams, and hoisting him up. Her face is red with anger, her eyes glittering in the moonlight, looking ready to attack.

“Hmm?”

“I can’t believe you knocked me up! Now we have to have a shotgun wedding!” she yells, louder than she has any right to in the middle of the night.

“Can it really be considered a shotgun wedding if I proposed to you before I knew you were pregnant?” Rowan asks, trying to pull her back down, and immediately regrets it, based on Aelin’s increased anger.

She frowns. “I don’t want to be fat at my wedding.”

Rowan laughs sweetly and pulls Aelin into his arms. “You won’t be fat. You’ll be pregnant.”

Aelin pushes herself out of his grasp and glares. Ok. Wrong thing to say, clearly. “I refuse to be fat at my wedding,” she growls, flopping back onto her pillow. “But if we wait until after we have the baby for me to get my body back… that could be two years from now.” She rolls over and faces him. “I don’t want to wait two years.”

Rowan scoots down until he’s facing her, his legs tangled with her bare ones beneath the covers. “First of all, you’re beautiful, no matter what.” Aelin scoffs, clearly not believing his truth. “But, we don’t have to wait.” He can’t help but kiss her surprised face. “Let’s get married this summer. Here. It’s where I’d want to do it anyway.”

He can see a hundred thoughts racing through Aelin’s blue eyes as she contemplates his proposal.

“Plan a wedding in two months? My mom is going to die.”

“If it’s too much…”

“It’s not too much,” Aelin replies, snuggling closer to him. He runs his hand up the back of her tank top, feeling her skin warm the pads of his fingers. She presses closer to him, her curves against his chest, and he dips his head down to kiss her.

“It’ll still be a shotgun wedding,” Rowan says through kisses. “The people who don’t already know will surely figure it out when the baby comes six months later.”

“As long as I look good in photos, I don’t care.”

“Good to know motherhood won’t affect your vanity,” Rowan chuckles, and Aelin gasps.

“Rowan, we’re getting married, and we’re going to have a baby.”

Rowan shakes his head. “I know. What have we done?”

~*~

If Rowan thought last summer was a whirlwind, it’s nothing compared to a summer with a pregnant, last minute wedding-planning Aelin. As soon as they told her parents the plan, Aelin was off to the races. They’ve decided to forgo everything traditional, much to Evalin’s distress. The only thing Aelin has insisted upon is Rowan not seeing her wedding dress beforehand, which he has no problem with.

In fact, he’s been fairly uninvolved in the wedding plans, leaving the decisions to Aelin. He found out very quickly that she had strong opinions about flowers and colors and food. The only thing he’s insisted upon participating in is the guest list – which includes only twenty of their closest friends and family.  He knows that number isn’t even a tenth of the amount of people who attended Aedion and Lysandra’s wedding. Aelin is expected to have a high society wedding, but she and Rowan are defying expectations left and right with their lives. But somehow, it doesn’t seem to matter. They stopped asking for approval from anyone the second they got together, and everyone seems to be okay with that.

Rowan smirks as Aelin sighs loudly from the back seat of his car. Her arms are crossed against her chest, pushing up her breasts to make an even larger than usual swell of cleavage. Despite her insecurities, pregnancy looks incredible on Aelin, and Rowan can’t help if his eyes flick to her chest more often these days.

“Stop checking out my rack, Rowan,” Aelin frowns, and he laughs boisterously, tipping his head back in amusement at his grumpy fiancée. “It’s not funny. Look at the road.”

Rowan stares harder. “We’re at a stoplight.”

Aelin’s lips curl into the most adorable pout, and her blue eyes widen.

“You know, you could have driven up here with me,” Rowan says of the empty passenger seat next to him, and Aelin shakes her head.

“No, changing levels is the one thing that makes me queasy,” she explains.

“Which is why you should have driven up here,” Rowan says. “My mom is going to insist that the pregnant girl sit in the front.”

“Adults sit in the front,” Aelin snaps, and Rowan smiles.

“I hate to break it to you, but you are an adult.”

Aelin frowns again. “You know what I mean.”

They drive in silence for a few more seconds until the tension becomes so thick that Rowan has to ask. “Are you nervous about meeting my mom?”

It’s all the prompting Aelin needs to explode. “Yes!” she shouts, throwing her arms up in defeat. “Of course I’m nervous! I’ve stolen her son away from her. You didn’t even go back for Yulemas,” she prattles nervously. Rowan watches as she emphasizes with her hands, a sure sign of Aelin’s stress. It’s completely unfounded, though.

“Aelin, you don’t understand,”  Rowan throws her what he hopes is a reassuring smile over his shoulder. “You made Dora’s dreams come true by dating me, much less marrying me and incubating our child. She loves you.”

Aelin barks out a laugh. “Incubating?”

Rowan shrugs. “What would you call it?”

“Incubating works,” she replies with a snort, and Rowan can tell he’s had some luck in calming her nerves.

By the time they arrive at the airport, Dora is already waiting on the curb with her bag in her hand. She’s come to spend the whole wedding week, spending time with Rowan and meeting her in-laws before they make it official. Rowan’s been playing it cool, but he is incredibly excited to see his mom.

He hops out of the car and welcomes her with a big hug as soon as he can. Aelin nervously exits the car and waves hello. He watches as Dora’s eyes go wide as she extricates herself from Rowan and throws her arms around Aelin.

“You are even more stunning in person,” Dora says, causing a soft blush to appear on Aelin’s cheeks. “How are you feeling? Sick at all? How are the cravings? How are your studies? Are you teaching at all this summer?”

“Uhhh…”

It’s so rare that Aelin is flustered, that is gives Rowan some sort of sick pleasure that it’s Dora Whitethorn, who makes her nervous. Rowan can’t help but smile as he watches his two favorite women meet each other. As he expected, Dora goes straight for the back seat when it’s time to return to the car, and it’s a fight Aelin loses quickly.

“Told you so,” Rowan says, winking at a disgruntled Aelin, as she buckles herself in.

“Has your son always been so self-righteous?” Aelin asks the white-haired woman making herself comfortable in the back of Rowan’s roomy SUV.

Dora’s green eyes twinkle as she hums. “No, but he’s always been a pain in my ass.”

“Mom!” Rowan can hear her snickering behind him, and Aelin’s eyes widen in joy. There’s nothing she loves more than teasing him. He forgot that these two share that interest.

“It’s true, baby,” Dora laughs. “You’re constantly making things much harder than they should be. Aelin should know what she’s getting herself into.”

Rowan frowns as Aelin laughs harder. “If I get left at the altar I’m blaming you.”

Aelin snorts loudly and puts her hand on her stomach. “As if I’d raise this chicken on my own. No offense, Dora, but I seems really hard. I don’t know how you did it. And so well.”

“Sometimes you get a good egg,” Dora says with a small smile just for Aelin. “Now, tell me all the gossip about everyone who’s going to be at this wedding. I just flew ten hours and am ready to be entertained.”

~*~

“Stop fidgeting,” Manon hisses, swatting Rowan’s hands away from his carefully brushed hair.

“I can’t,” Rowan admits, tugging nervously at a lock of his hair. He’d meant to get a haircut before the big day, but clearly that hadn’t happened, and now his hair is just a smidge too long, falling into his eyes ever so slightly.

Manon glares, her heavily lined eyes throwing him a look that could kill. And he knows she means it. Rowan stands still, taking a deep breath and attempting to center himself as Manon rolls up the sleeves of his light blue blazer.

“How are you this nervous?” Manon asks, quirking her red-painted lips into an amused half-smile. “Dorian is officiating.”

“Don’t remind me,” Rowan groans. How he said yes to that idea, he’ll never know. Aelin must have been in the midst of performing some incredible sexual act for him to agree to that detail. But it seemed too important to her say no. Plus, it’s not like there was anyone else he’d rather do it. He was just… nervous. About what Dorian might potentially say in front of their guests. After all. He’d been there since the very beginning.

“He loves you both,” Manon says with a sigh. “And I do too. Although if you ever use it against me I’ll deny forever.”

“You love Aelin?” Rowan asks, and he watches as his best friend rolls her eyes and hip checks Rowan. She adjusts the thin straps of her navy jumpsuit, smoothing out the silky fabric to assure her minor assault hasn’t messed up her wedding look.

“I just told you I’d deny it.” She places her hands on her hips, examining Rowan up and down, before adjusting the small white pocket square in his blazer. “There. Perfect.” She says with a pat to his chest. “Ready?” she asks, and Rowan nods.

Rowan leads Manon through the gates of Ashryver Playland and lets his worries ease away. He’s not sure why he was ever nervous. He’s about to marry the most amazing woman in the world.

Beside the pier, in the location where Rowan had intended to ask Aelin to marry him, is a small walkway leading out to a platform on the beach. Ten chairs flank either side, filled with smiling, familiar faces. Dorian waits at the center of the platform, beneath a stunning arch of twisting greenery dotted with pale flowers.

As the sun starts to descend, a dark golden haze casts itself over the sand. He watches as it turns to orange and then pink beneath his shadow. And then he knows it’s time.

Rowan smiles as Gavin leads Fleefoot down the aisle, spreading pale flower petals across the platform with his other hand and then takes a seat next to his family, who congratulates him with high fives and cheers. Fleetfoot happily thumps her tail as Rowan gives her a smile, too.

But his attention is diverted immediately as everyone stands to welcome Aelin. His heart thumps wildly in his chest, hammering against his ribs as he spots her face. Aelin lifts her chin up toward the colorful tie-dye sky and takes a deep breath. As she takes her first step onto the platform, she smiles the most beautiful smile Rowan’s ever seen. He’s sure his face mirrors hers, and he can’t help but laugh as she scrunches up her nose slightly and sticks her tongue out at him. Gods, she’s perfect.

His eyes never leave her grinning face. When he takes her hands in his, when she stands here facing him, all the way until they say, “I do.” He’s not sure what he was ever worried about, because he barely even hears Dorian’s officiating, too busy being swept up in the turquoise-gold of Aelin’s eyes.

When Dorian announces, “You may kiss the bride,” Rowan doesn’t think twice before wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. If she’s surprised by the exuberance of his kiss, Aelin doesn’t show it. She matches his fervor with equal force, soft lips parting to let their tongues explore each other’s mouths a little too thoroughly for public consumption.

“Now everyone knows how Aelin got pregnant,” Dorian snorts quietly behind him, and Aelin smiles and laughs into Rowan’s mouth.

Seeing his opportunity, Dorian interrupts them before they can go in for another kiss. “I now pronounce you husband and wife!”

Rowan lifts Aelin, scooping her from under her knees, and cradles her against his chest as he bounds off the platform.

“Where are you going?” Dorian yells as Aelin squeals loudly. But Rowan doesn’t care.

He finds the pole he was looking for immediately. Below the pier. Where he first kissed Aelin. He wants to kiss her there as his wife for the first time.

“Rowan!” she gasps as he presses her against the wooden beam, his mouth finding hers quickly. He can feel her soft fingers in his hair, tugging him against her, reciprocating his kiss, making his pulse race just like that very first time.

He pulls away panting, and rests his forehead against hers.

“I love you so much,” she whispers. “But if you ruin my dress before we get a picture together, I’ll murder you.”

Rowan laughs and lets her down, and they both kick off their shoes and sink their toes into the sand. He finally lets his eyes trail down her body, taking in her flowing white dress and grins.

“I’m going to be honest, I just looked at the dress for the first time.”

She smacks his shoulder, and he recoils, grabbing her hand and bringing it to his lips. “You’re perfect.”

She tilts her head to the side, letting her loose waves fall over her shoulder. “You’re a sap.”

“A sap you love,” he retorts quickly.

“Gods help us,” Aelin laughs, reaching up to kiss him again. But Rowan has other thoughts in mind. He trails his lips down her neck to her chest, loving the way the neckline of her dress emphasizes it.

“Oy!” Dorian cackles, “Let’s keep it PG. There’s people who want to eat dinner soon.”

Rowan flicks him off. “We’ll meet you there.”

But Aelin grabs his hand and pulls him to follow Dorian.

Their small reception is only a ten minute walk away in the Ashryvers’ back patio. Aelin made the playlist herself, and they covered the pool with a temporary dance floor. Emrys made the dinner – no mayo in anything and sparkling cider to last well into the night.

Rowan walks hand in hand with his bride across the sand, walking the familiar stretch from Playland to the Ashryver Estate. Only this time, everything is different. Nothing is a secret. And they both belong in a world of their own creation – one they’re going to start getting ready to bring a life into.

~*~

“What are you thinking?” Aelin says from her perch on his lap, well into the evening. She runs her fingers through his hair, now disheveled from hours of dancing and too many sips of champagne.

“I’m thinking that I can’t wait until next summer,” Rowan says, cracking a smile at Aelin. She rubs her thumb against his cheek and presses her lips to his.

“The last two summers weren’t crazy enough for you?” she asks. “You want to know what it’s going to be like with an infant in the mix?”

Rowan pales. “Oh my god, Aelin, we’re going to have a baby.”

“Did you forget?” she says, holding back a laugh.

He shakes his head. “No. I just…” He pauses. “What are we going to do with a baby at Playland?”

Aelin laughs, leaning her tired head against his shoulder. “Well, we’ll obviously take them on the Firecoaster, first and foremost. Then the High Flyer. Oh, and the Bumper Cars.”

Rowan can feel his lips turning down into a frown as he imagines his child on the dangerous rides.

“Rowan, I’m kidding,” she assures him, and he squeezes her side, causing her to let out a sharp cackle. “We’ll figure it out,” she finally says quietly. “We always do.”

She tightens her hand around his, and the pair sit together, wrapped up in each other, long after their party has ended and their friends have gone home, telling each other stories of summers to come and memories yet to be made.

~*~

I have loved writing this fic so much, and I don’t truly want to say goodbye. Which is why if you ever want a futuretake with these two, I will be more than happy to take prompts. ALSO, in case you hadn’t seen, I started a new Rowaelin fic called I Don’t Want To Wait (linked the masterlist).

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[kerwritesthings]

Homecoming

Summary: It hurts to crash and fall, but helps when you have someone to help pick you back up

Word Count: little over 2.2k

Warning: fluff with a slight touch of oh sad, cursing and a little illusion to naughty

Author Notes: So hey, muse is back, feeling it and she’s a cranking. I had general thoughts on this since end of Final and return to play, bullets I had vomited, maybe a paragraph but it never went anywhere. After I got J’s challenge done, it kind of just poured out in regards to those two kids. This is part of what’s now officially the Orange Blossom verse since I’m fully attached to Tyler and Clementine. 

Guess I need to get a hockey masterlist together now? Cause yeah, more words coming here for them (possibly a NSWF back half to this? maybe?) and on a few other hockey boys. Also, maybe even getting some Shawn words out too? #museisfeelingit

We’re taking off. I finally get to say see you and the boys later and really mean it.

You knew straightaway when the buzzer sounded the other night this was going to be hard, harder than last year for sure. When you talked after, it shattered you hearing him that way. You couldn’t be there and that hurt. You also knew there was more than he was letting on or even telling you, but you weren’t pushing him then; it wasn’t worth it. There’d be a time and place for that.

We’ll be waiting xo

You try to get as much set and ready, at least for the next 48 hours, so you can just both be. Fridge and pantry are full, everything is clean top to bottom inside and out. As you run through the checklist in your head, you feel a heavy head plunk down on your knee with a whine.

“I know buddy, I miss him too. He’s coming home to us right now though. Only a couple more hours,” you scratch behind the golden lab’s ear. “Let me feed you and your crazy brothers so you’re not completely batshit when your Dad gets home.”

As soon as you say Dad, they lose their minds it seems. A raucous feeding and a subsequently needed clean up after of both the kitchen and you, time is closer than you thought. You’re refiling the Brita when you hear the locks clicking open and the telltale plunk of bags hitting the floor. Then he’s there in the doorway between the hall and the kitchen. You just look at him for a moment and truly exhale for the first time since he called after the game, he’s finally home.

“Hi,” you smile, stepping closer to him.

“There’s my babygirl,” Tyler sighs deeply, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around you. “Fuck, I missed you, so damn much Emmy.”

You hold him just as close, nodding into his chest trying not to cry. He drops his head into the crook of your neck and breathes in and out slowly. Your arms wind around his waist as you feel his eyelashes flutter against your skin.

“It’s too quiet…” he starts.

“They’re outside. They were going crazy in the house; I think they could tell from my energy you were coming back,” you explain. “That or it was just another Wednesday.”

He bites a chuckle back, his lips dusting against your neck.

“May need your help with them,” he murmurs against your skin.

“How bad?” you ask, hands sliding up to his face, pulling him away to look straight at you.

He’s tired, it’s all over his face. He just shrugs.

“Tyler…” you start.

“Bad,” he mumbles out, eyes slipping shut as your fingers start looping in his hair sticking out from his hat. “Doc wants me in for scans and testing tomorrow afternoon.  I’m gonna need you to drive me please, J dropped me off because I couldn’t.”

That’s why you didn’t hear the rumbling of an engine or the garage door.

“Where?” you tread lightly.

“Better to ask me where not, Em. You know the knees were acting up before we went into lockdown, but they were better than before when we went back for phase two,” he replies. “Then the hip started at the end of camp here probably from the other shit. I thought we had it under control before we left and the knees were feeling less shitty. I played the one game in round robin. Wasn’t great, but it wasn’t crazy pain and I’ve played through worse. They backed me out for precautions, you know that. Thought the rest and therapy on it would do it.”

“But then?” you probe carefully, knowing he wasn’t letting on how much the bumps and bruises of playoffs were really affecting him when he would call.

“All kind of went to hell from there though and it just unraveled,” he sighs deeply. “Definitely the right hip. Left is tweaked from compensating. Wrist was nagging too. Everything fucking hurt but, I just. I couldn’t let them down, I couldn’t. It’s playoffs. Not when we were pushing and we were that damn close. So fucking close.”

Tyler sniffs and drops his head to your shoulder.

“You have the biggest heart baby; you’d never let them down. They know that. But you need to take care of yourself and not break yourself to the point of disrepair, Tyler. Not good for them or for you, especially if you want to keep on playing,” you say. “Tabling this for now though. Let’s go see the boys, then I think you need some food, a soak and some sleep.”

“You’re forgetting something,” he whispers into your shirt, his hands holding firm at your hips.

“Hmm?” you question.

“You, I most definitely need you, Emmy,” he picks his head up and smirks before leaning into kiss you.

It starts sweet, light even then he presses into it. Tongue swiping and teeth nibbling, it’s warming up quickly. His hands flex tighter, drawing you even closer into him. You can already feel him half hard against you.

“Ty,” you break away, breathless. “Not if…”

“Nope, non-negotiable. We’ll figure out a way. It’s been almost two fucking months,” he utters against your lips before pressing into another kiss, this one quick. “I hear them losing their shit out there. Come on.”

He snags your hand, tangling your fingers together and tugging you towards the French doors to the patio. You can tell immediately in his gait, he’s in a good deal of discomfort. Knowing him, he’s refused anything heavy pain killer wise while he was playing, other than the extra strength Advil he’s only been comfortable taking. Maybe some cortisone if the inflammation wasn’t subsiding and even that would be a push to get him to agree to.

“Don’t even think about getting down on the grass you, I saw the limping,” you chide, pushing him down onto the lounge chair. “They can all attack you from here.”

He pouts, but you just flick his ear, then yank the hat off his head.

“Boys, look who I found for you,” you call out.

Three large dog heads whip around at once and make a break for you two. You back out of the way, giving the labs more than enough room to get up and around the chair. Once the initial may lay of wagging tails, jumping excitement and licking backs down, Gerry ends up on the lounge wedging himself on and between Tyler’s legs as he thinks he’s still tiny, with Cash and Marshall on either side their heads in his lap.

“Who’s the best boys? Did you miss me? I missed you. Were you good for Mom while I was gone?” he asks them, petting them each as they bask in having him back. “You better have taken good care of her. We had an agreement.”

“As good as being in the house with three boys without their dad could be,” you laugh from behind the chair, hands on Tyler’s shoulders. “They were good to cuddle with, especially on game nights.”

“Not as good as me though,” he tips his head back with a cheeky grin.

“Debatable Tyler,” you tease, bopping his nose.

“Hey,” he pouts, lip jutting out.

“You can remind me later,” you murmur, dropping a kiss to his forehead. “You spend some time with the motley crew out here. Don’t you think about running or leaving that chair, really. I’ll get some stuff pulled together in the kitchen. Any requests? I stockpiled on some of your favorites.”

“Did you make your chicken bake?” his eyes light up as he thinks about what to ask for.

“Of course I did, you asked me about that a few times when you were griping about food options,” you grin. “I’ll get that and salad ready. Boys, you need to take it easy with Dad, he’s more broken than he’s willing to admit.”

You head back into the house and into the kitchen. As you’re turning from the oven to start on the salad, you hear the thump of paws first before feeling a plop of a head on your feet.

“Marsh baby, why aren’t you outside with your Daddy?” your eyebrows knit as you look down at the dog.

The dog just huffs and sighs with big eyes looking up at you.

“He’s back now with us buddy,” you wipe your hands on a towel before bending down to pet him. “He’s missed you just as much as you missed him. You’re his first baby. Go love on him some more.”

Marshall just whines again, nudging you to try to make you cuddle with him on the kitchen floor.

“Let me finish this up, then we can all snuggle on the couch ok?” you bargain, heading to the sink to wash your hands before finishing the salad.

He didn’t leave your side as you went on your way to get the meal together, sticking closer than he did when Tyler first left. The bake would be in for a bit longer, so you slide the salad into the fridge just as everyone filters back into the house.

“Your oldest son has abandonment issues,” you call out. “Tyler, you best not. Get your ass on the couch, I’ll pull him over. There’s no rolling on the floor.”

“He’s always been the most sensitive, worse in his old age,” he jokes, sliding an arm around your waist to lean into you.

“He’s not that old, be nice,” you poke at his side. “Marshall just loves you that much. That needs like 20-25 more minutes in the oven. Salad’s done, so it’ll be easy once this is warmed through. Come on; couch, pups and maybe I’ll even let you get handsy.”

Tyler turns you, palms sliding up your hips around to your back to pull you into him. You go easily and willingly.

“Thank you, Emmy,” he says softly, nosing at your temple. “I’m so lucky I get to come home to not only these three but to you too. Means a lot. I love how much you care about those three nutzos in there as much as how much you love me. And I know it’s not easy at times, but I hope you know that without question, I love you. I love you more every damn day and I want to keep showing you that.”

You didn’t expect that. It’s never been a question on your feelings for each other, but it always hits you when Tyler gets into his feelings like that. You don’t even respond with words; you just pop up onto your toes to kiss him.

“Love you too Ty,” you murmur, a breath away from his lips.

As soon as you both settle into the couch, letting him get comfortable first as you saw the grimace when he initially sat down, the dogs fall into place too. Even if it’s only for a short break, it’s nice to feel like things are settling back into a sense of normalcy. You close your eyes and exhale, probably for the first time since they came off the ice after game six.

“Bath after dishes?” you start as you shuffle plates off the table. “No fighting me, you need it. You’re wincing at every other movement. I picked up some eucalyptus soak with Epsom salt, so you won’t smell like my lavender or jasmine.”

“You joining me?” he wiggles his eyebrows, grin as wicked as ever after taking a sip from his glass.

“We’re not fucking in the tub Tyler,” you chide him as you load the dishwasher. “Busted hips do not make for good times with water sports even with as big as that soaker is.”

“Wrecking all my fun,” he sighs with the grin still evident. “But I guess you’re right. If I promise to kind of behave, will you join me?”

You can’t help but scoff a laugh.

“Kind of behave? Shit’s sake. Only you, Tyler,” you swing back around to the table, dusting a kiss to his temple. “Let me go get stuff ready and the water all set in there.”

“Someone needs to make sure I wash behind my ears amongst other places,” he gets cheeky, snagging you to pull you down onto his lap. “No one better than you for that, baby.”

He nips at your ear before nuzzling his face into your neck before tightening his arms around your waist. You’ve missed this, missed him.

“You can distract me all you want, but I’m still not fucking you in that tub,” you laugh, your hands tracing loops and swirls against the black ink over his forearm before trailing down his hands.

“Was at least worth a shot, but I’ll take you wet, naked and full of bubbles in the water with me,” he sighs, biting at your jaw before pushing you off his lap. He takes a swat at your ass as you’re walking away.

“I’ll add bubbles, just for you, since you asked so nicely,” you call out over your shoulder, sticking your tongue out at him.

“Put that away unless you plan on using that, preferably on me,” he shouts back in the midst of laughing.

[kaibacorpintern]

yuugi and kaiba... platonic... maybe a lil angst like kaiba doesnt know how to have friends and yuugi just accepts him as he is and kaiba can be a kid for once.. for the minific prompt pls? :) thank u.. luv ur blog btw

just thought you should know that when i read this prompt i instantly turned into this and wrote almost 5,000 words. it’s a little angsty and about friendship, but it’s also about loneliness and food and depression, with a few jokes peppered in here and there. DSOD didn’t happen but atem is alive, because i say so. i want kaiba and yuugi to be friends so freakin’ bad.

long story short: i went nuts. thanks for the prompt!!

***

Every day, little by little, Kaiba looked greyer. The lines of his shoulders slouched. The hollows under his eyes deepened, like holes being dug in the dirt, on hands and knees; a slow, miserable burying. To hear him speak was worse. Yuugi heard his voice from thousands of miles away, like he was on a different continent, a different planet, and the light of every thought was crossing the staggering empty silence of space. It terrified Yuugi, to think of Kaiba as fading, that someone who raged with all the thrill and fury of a storm could slow down like this. But he was fading. 

“Hey. Are you alright? You seem down lately,” Yuugi tried, on one of the rare mornings where he caught him alone in the elevator, on his way up to the game design department. With no one else around, he usually felt emboldened to drop the act: not an employee with his boss, maintaining proper deference, but someone who’d known Kaiba for a very long time, and knew him like few others did.

The glass-walled elevator whirred as it rose. Kaiba stood there with his arms crossed, impassive, his back to Domino. The city streets unfurled below them.

“The elevator’s going up, Yuugi,” he said, after a full seven seconds of silence. A weak dismissal, by his standards, made even weaker by a toneless delivery.

“Sure. But - ”

With a polite ding, the elevator opened onto the game design floor. 

“You’re running late,” Kaiba said, nodding him pointedly out the door.

“Bro, I’m fifteen minutes early,” Yuugi said.

“Don’t fucking ‘bro’ me, ” Kaiba snarled, with all the sudden, twitching ferocity of a nervous dog. Yuugi smiled and slowly backed out of the elevator, his palms turned out, long enough to make his point: he'd come in peace. Kaiba frowned at him, bristling, until the elevator doors started to close. The last Yuugi saw of him, before they touched together, were a pair of blue eyes, their fiery energy winking out like a popped spark, falling shut with a sigh.

At his desk, Yuugi toyed with his phone for a good ten minutes, ignoring emails and his coworkers’ good mornings, his thumb hovering over Mokuba’s contact info as he rehearsed in his head. Hey, how’s Stanford? You enjoying your classes so far? Making friends? Of course you are. Great. Well, so, I’m calling because I’m worried about your brother - 

A call like that would put Mokuba on a plane within an hour, honestly. But maybe Mokuba would want to know. Maybe he shouldn’t. Maybe if he left his first quarter of college and returned to Japan, just because his brother had a few bad nights or something, Kaiba would punt Yuugi off the top of the building. 

Maybe Atem? The only person Kaiba ever “talked” to about anything, if  pummeling each other with card game holograms could be called a conversation. Which they did.

YUUGI What’s eating Kaiba? Is he alright?

He stared at his phone a while longer until remembering it was the middle of the night in Egypt. He put his phone away, put Kaiba out of mind, and got to work.

***

Atem texted back mid-afternoon.

ATEM I don’t know. Go find out

YUUGI Okay but i’m not you lol he won’t tell me. even with a duel

ATEM GO

ATEM FIND

ATEM OUT

YUUGI OKAY I'LL DO MY BEST

ATEM And tell that stuck-up bastard to answer his fucking phone one of these days

Odd. Kaiba never ignored Atem.

YUUGI I’m on it

He finished work late, packed up his things, and headed downstairs to the lobby, moving quickly to catch his train. He had most of a mind to save the Kaiba question for later, go home, and flop face-down on his bed until he roused himself enough to pick at leftovers. The elevated metro station was awash in a crisp dusk light, the navy purple night descending on the day’s final line of gold. His train was coming in three minutes; the next on the same line in thirty-four. He'd just made it.

If he stood at the far end of the platform, craning his neck, he could see the long strip of windows at the top of the KaibaCorp tower. Dark. Kaiba had gone home early. Yuugi frowned, biting his lip, as his train arrived. 

He let it go, jostled and swaying in the flood of people flowing in and out of the carriages. The next train took him far from home, flying with sleek electric ease through the glittering glassy black monoliths of the city, and into the leafy, overgrown estates beyond the far edge of town.

***

Kaiba's estate was a brisk walk from the last station on the line, along the side of a road without sidewalks, and through a tunnel of trees that laced their branches together over the road. By the time Yuugi got to the gates, his feet aching in his sneakers, night had fallen. The trees were thick with shadow and wind, whispering to each other in fairy tale voices. It was the kind of night that urged people into their homes, with the doors locked, away from the ancient things that lurked in the undergrowth, wild and forgotten and stronger for it. He was relieved to reach the gates, on the edge of the illumination around Kaiba's mansion, held in the center of the light like a toy castle in a snow globe.

The gatehouse was empty. A security camera peered down at him from the top of a wall, nestled in a thick swell of vines. Ignoring its glossy little eye, Yuugi studied the door in the wall beside the gates, pushing more vines aside to find the keypad. If he called ahead, the chances of Kaiba buzzing him in were next to nothing. They were next to nothing on a good day.

YUUGI do you know the key code for the door?

ATEM 445241474F4E#

ATEM that took me literally years to get

ATEM go around the back. he won’t open the front door

YUUGI you're the best <3

He tapped in the code, carefully. What if he got it wrong? Would a trapdoor open up below his feet? With his back to the quiet road, and the dense, rustling woods on the other side, he swallowed his laugh. 

The door opened with a faint click. Yuugi slipped through and began the long walk up the drive to the mansion, sneakers crunching the gravel underfoot. On either side of the drive,  the lawns were pristine, every petal of every flower and every leaf on every hedge perfectly in place, holding the poses nature’s hand had fixed them in with effortless ease. Somewhere across the grass, shrouded in the night, came the distant murmur of a fountain. 

The mansion itself was an ugly, graceless brick of a building, so rigid and square in its design that its position in the center of this wooded estate seemed an oppressive intrusion. Per Atem’s instructions, Yuugi skirted the front, with its twin dragon statues and Roman columns and imposing front door, and went around to the back, padding silently through the grass. Like the top of the tower, the windows were dark. Every glance through the glass, checking for life, made him feel like he was looking into the bottom of a well, deep and cold and watery, a tomb for hopeless wishing. 

At the back of the house was a large patio, with a view of the sprawling grounds, which rolled downwards in a gentle slope, all the way to a line of trees. There, the grounds gave themselves back to the wild. Even on a shivering night like this, it was easy to imagine what the patio was like in the full splendor of high summer, drenched in sunlight and everything shimmering in golden-white heat.

A thin light cast a hazy cloud onto the patio through a pair of sliding glass doors. Yuugi stopped, halfway across the patio, questioning himself for the nth time that night. And if he was overreacting? So what if Kaiba was in a mood? Kaiba was always in a fucking mood. Yuugi had no doubt Kaiba would thunder at him for a while over the arrogance, the audacity of his presumptions or something, and then throw him out by the scruff of the neck. Oh, god. The embarrassment burned in his face already. 

Yuugi firmly shoved his own feelings aside. He was a gamer - a gambler - by nature, and he’d learned enough over the years to bet on his  own instincts. He gamed it out, in his head, shuddering into the warmth of his jacket as the breeze rolled through him:

He checks on Kaiba, and everything is fine: he goes home feeling awkward and Kaiba avoids him at work for the next three weeks. Acceptable outcome.

He does not check on Kaiba, and everything is fine: he goes home, and the whole night gets written off as a weird, secret little adventure. Acceptable outcome.

He checks on Kaiba, and everything is not fine: unacceptable, but now someone knows. Acceptable outcome. 

He does not check on Kaiba, and everything is not fine: Unacceptable outcome.

He stole towards the sliding glass doors. They led into a glossy modern kitchen, as pristine as the grounds, and full of clean, gleaming surfaces. It was completely free of clutter like mail, or keys, or coffee mugs, or any of the other odds and ends that usually piled up over the course of normal days. A bowl of flowers sat on a kitchen table in a breakfast nook, starting to wilt. At the end of the kitchen island was a bowl of fruit. A still-life painting split in two. 

Sitting at the island, perched on a bar stool, was Kaiba, his head resting in his folded arms atop the counter. His face was mostly hidden in the crook of his elbow; through the limp tangle of his bangs, Yuugi saw his eyes were closed. His black leather satchel leaned against the leg of the bar stool. The rise of his back as he breathed was slow and subtle, the only thing that convinced Yuugi Kaiba had not turned to stone in his seat. Asleep?

No. 

A small blue light rose up from Kaiba's phone, lying on the counter. One hand slowly unfolded, silenced the call, and refolded itself. A gesture that made less than a ripple across the still water of this tableau.

Awake.

Lifelessly, doing nothing. Not even staring into space, but retreating into the space behind his eyelids, a space Yuugi knew intimately well: shallow and lukewarm and wordless, a space for letting hours and days drift by, uncounted. It had been a long time since he’d visited - not since he’d solved the Puzzle - but it was a space he never wanted to revisit. It was a space that stayed with you for the rest of your life, once you’d been there, and yet a space more distant than the farthest star in the universe, beyond the boundaries of both light and love. A place of perfect solitude. 

Quietly, carefully, Yuugi tried the handle of the sliding glass door and found it unlocked. He slid it open. 

Kaiba startled, pulling himself upright as though yanked by a puppet string on his neck. He turned to Yuugi, still and alert, not quite comprehending. As he understood who stood there, the pieces clicking into place, his eyes hardened in his pallid face, speechless, furious. 

“Before you say anything,” Yuugi said, as Kaiba opened his mouth, “I have a story. Let me tell you, and then you can kick me out.”

“This is my fucking house. I can kick you out whenever I damn well please,” Kaiba snapped.

“It’s more of a puzzle, actually. I don’t think you’ve ever solved this one,” Yuugi said. 

Kaiba looked at him sideways, now more confused and suspicious than alarmed.

“And if I solve it?” he said, because ah, yes, of course, stakes. Nothing ever for the joy of it.

“Bragging rights.”

“If I don’t?”

“Nothing happens,” Yuugi said. 

They stared at each other. Yuugi ventured a smile. Did he dare walk in? He was still standing on the threshold. 

“Fine,” Kaiba said, a word more like a sigh. “Come in and tell me your stupid puzzle.”

***

Every house has its own particular smell, its character, its self-contained story about those who call it home. Yuugi took off his shoes, setting them beside the glass door, and frowned. Kaiba's smelled like clean linens, a touch of dust, cool air. A muted smell with no character. He didn't know what he expected. Something else, something thick and wet and heady, like oncoming thunder, or concrete after rain.

On this side of the glass doors, the kitchen was even more exquisite, temptingly so. He knew, from his lusty late-night Internet searches, that the knives in the wooden block alone cost more than several thousand dollars. Untouched! He refused to let them go to waste. Such things were more beautiful when they were held and used and loved, doing what they were made for. And despite the marbled silence, the thin white lighting, this was a house, not a museum. Yuugi dropped his backpack on the floor next to an empty bar stool and turned to Kaiba, who was sitting upright, hands atop his thighs, watching him.

“Uh - do you have anything to eat? I haven’t eaten since lunch,” he said, slinging his jacket over his backpack.

“No. Every night I just plug in and recharge,” Kaiba said dryly. “I believe that’s called a fridge. Those have human food.”

Yuugi bit his tongue, hiding his smile as he went around to the other side of the island. At least Kaiba was still capable of snark. He opened the massive fridge - sparse offerings, sparsely touched - and rooted around, not quite sure what he was looking for between the limp carrots and slabs of smoked salmon. Only the cheese drawer yielded interesting spoils, unspoiled and exotically European.

“The pantry?” he said, nodding at the door next to the fridge. 

“Presumably.”

Yuugi found a loaf of sourdough bread on a shelf in the walk-in pantry - a fucking walk-in pantry! - and returned to the counter with his haul: the bread, the butter, a wedge of Gruyere, and a brick of Emmental. “I’m making a grilled cheese. You want one?”

“If it makes you happy,” Kaiba muttered.

“It does, yeah,” Yuugi said, unsheathing one of those glorious, mirror-polished knives from the wooden block. He rolled up his sleeves and attacked the cheeses with relish. “So - the puzzle goes like this. You’re fifteen years old. You’re small for your age, underweight, painfully shy. You get shoved around a lot at school. Before school, after school. Whenever, honestly. No one really sticks up for you, although you try to stick up for them, when you can, and no one really talks to you, because you live in your own little world. Your head’s always in the clouds, and you get really excited over a lot of things no one else really cares about.”

As he spoke, he unearthed a frying pan and set it on the gas stove, slicing off several pats of butter. As they melted, soft and yellow-white, he carved several slices off the loaf, shuddering with secretive pleasure at the fresh crunch of the crust. 

“Next time, just bring me your high school diary,” Kaiba said. 

Yuugi snorted, buttering the slices and laying them carefully into the pan, where they began to sizzle. He draped the slices of cheese on top. “So you can read everything I wrote about you? No thanks. Anyway. You have one friend, but she’s not always around - her family travels a lot for work. So here you are, a bullied, lonely little oddball, and one day someone gives you a gift. A puzzle.”

“A puzzle in a puzzle.” 

“Right,” Yuugi said, pressing down on the slices of bread with a spatula. The butter crackled and spat; a thick, warm smell wafted through the kitchen. “And if you make a wish on the puzzle, it grants your wish when you solve it. So you make your wish, and you solve your puzzle. You know the rest.”

He turned back to Kaiba. “Now I’m here in your kitchen, making you a grilled cheese. So. What did I wish for?”

To his credit, Kaiba was taking it seriously, offering no snide comments about magic or wishing, leaning forward with his arms folded again on the counter. Yuugi let him study him, eyes narrowed and thoughtful, knowing he was running back through all eight years of their shared history, doing the math. 

“Well, no one shoves you around any more,” Kaiba said. “Not even me, judging by the fact that I can’t even get you to leave my house. I should’ve known better than to try.”

“Ooh, a compliment. Thanks, I’ll treasure it forever,” Yuugi said, grinning, flipping the sandwiches. Melted cheese oozed from the sides. The bottom slices had toasted to a golden brown. His mouth watered. “Plates?”

“Up and to your left.”  

Yuugi opened the cabinets and, standing on tiptoe, eased out two matte black stoneware plates. Fancy.

“You wished for strength,” Kaiba said. 

Yuugi slid the grilled cheeses onto the plates and severed them in half with the spatula. 

“Nope,” he said, leaning across the island counter to set the steaming grilled cheese in front of Kaiba. The semantic point that his friends and his strength were one and the same seemed irrelevant. He was speaking to Kaiba. He needed to speak in Kaiba’s language. “Strength wouldn’t have solved anything for me.”

“You just said you were getting shoved around  - ”

“I wished for friends, Kaiba,” Yuugi said. “Yeah, I was tired of getting shoved around. But I was even more tired of being alone.”

“I - “ Kaiba cut himself off, pressing a sigh through his nose with a tight, pinched expression. Within seconds his face soured. “You make a wish on your magical little trinket, and you get just what you always wanted. How fucking fantastic for you - ”

“Don’t do the aggressive-aggressive thing, it’s not cute,” Yuugi said. “And don’t test me, either. You and I are way past that. Just look me in the face and tell me, honestly, you want me to leave.”

Kaiba turned that ferocious blue gaze on him, silent.

Yuugi waited, holding his gaze. 

Thin, languid tendrils of steam rose from their melting grilled cheeses and folded away.

“Don’t tell me you think of me as one of your magic wish friends?” Kaiba said.

“There’s nothing magical about our friendship, no,” Yuugi said, and to his delight Kaiba snorted with amusement. “Now eat, before it gets cold.”

***

They ate, the evening quiet of the kitchen magnifying every fried, crunchy bite. Yuugi had hoisted himself onto the bar stool next to Kaiba, congratulating himself on a well-made grilled cheese. He would’ve made it work even without the expensive knives.

"Don't tell Mokuba," Kaiba said, dabbing at crumbs on his plate with a greasy scrap of bread, "or Atem."

"Don't tell them what?" Yuugi said.

"How you found me. On hour six of staring at a wall.”

"I won't," Yuugi said.

"They don't need to worry about me. I can take care of myself," Kaiba insisted. 

"You can, but are you?" Yuugi said. 

"Mmh," Kaiba murmured, resting his elbows on the counter and his chin atop his laced hands. “Don’t tell them that, either.”

His eyes rolled sideways, his gaze drifting around the kitchen, through the arched doorway, through the rest of the house, where all the lights were off. Yuugi slid off his stool and selected two pears from the fruit bowl, heavy with ripeness, rinsing them in the sink.

“Did... something happen? Did you get in a fight?” he ventured. “Atem says you’re not answering his calls.”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

The kitchen swelled with silence.

"They left," Kaiba said finally, as Yuugi considered how to cut the pears. A basic wedge cut was too childish. "And I told them to go, enjoy it, make the most of it. They have their own lives to live. Mokuba must've asked me a thousand times if I'd be fine without him if he went to California, and I said yes, go, because I don't need him around. I'm fine. And there's no point in getting angry with someone for leaving if you don't need them in the first place."

The effort must've been massive, Yuugi realized, slicing into the pears, to keep the anger at bay. To dig into the wound and wrench the thing out whole, raw and throbbing, without duels or rubbled islands, and without the help of the people who loved him the most. No wonder he looked so exhausted, so limp; no wonder he was again sinking towards the counter, arms folding, his head dropping like there was a hand on the back of his neck, guiding him down with animal docility. 

“How long have you been feeling like this?” Yuugi said.

“What the hell do you know about it?” Kaiba said, semi-muffled by his elbow. 

“It feels like there’s this dark little pit in yourself that you can’t stop digging,” Yuugi said, “and when it’s deep enough, you’re gonna curl up and bury yourself at the bottom and sleep for a year. Right?”

Kaiba said nothing, heaving another sigh.

“Sit up. Eat this.” Yuugi thunked a plate of pear in front of Kaiba, each slice wafer-thin, almost translucent, dripping with light. Kaiba dutifully pulled himself up and removed several slices of pear, with jenga-like precision, careful not to damage Yuugi’s artful pinwheeling. “Well?”

“I always feel like this,” Kaiba said, a startling confession, all the more terrifying for the blithe, dismissive tone with which he confessed it. “So what if it’s a little worse than normal? I’ll find my way out of it.” 

Yuugi leaned over the counter, hands clasped atop it, business-like. 

“I have no doubt in your ability to get out of this,” he said. “But I don’t think you should do it alone. See, I don’t want you to leave, either.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah?” Yuugi said. “I challenge you to a duel. My deck’s in my backpack. I have some new strategies I’m dying to test, and you’re the only one who makes me really fight for it. How about it? Wanna duel?”

Kaiba exhaled, resting his elbow on the counter, his cheek against the back of his hand. He plucked out another pear slice, not eating it; instead just letting it dangle from his fingertips, watching a tiny pearl of water roll off the edge and break apart on the plate with monumental indifference. 

Watching him, Yuugi allowed himself a brief, private moment of grief, for Kaiba, knowing he wouldn’t want it, and he’d be insulted if he knew. To have your heart broken by what you love was one thing; to swing from love to hate was another; but to stand still and feel your love go, leaving nothing in the hollow it left behind, was the worst.

With a light flick, Kaiba released the slice of pear, his gaze drifting again. 

“No. I’m tired of fighting,” he said sullenly, so dull a sound that Yuugi sucked in a breath, two dueling thoughts colliding with concussive impact in his chest. Good, stop fighting, why don’t you finally get some rest, and the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him and shout no! keep fighting! I know you’re in there! 

Kaiba lifted his head, looking at Yuugi with an air of steeling himself. “Okay. What... what do you want from me?”

Yuugi almost laughed, but caught himself. No good things came from laughing in Kaiba’s face. 

“Other way around,” he said, drawing a circle in the air with his finger. “This is about what you want from me. Whatever you need. Whatever you want.”

Kaiba frowned, thinking.

“Do you seriously believe the magic of the Millennium Puzzle helped you make friends?” he said.

"Um. Well, it was more like a domino effect, you know? A chaos theory, butterfly hurricane kind of thing - “

“Magic had nothing to do with it. It was all you,” Kaiba said, with more heat and passion than he’d shown in weeks. “But you have to understand I’ll never be your ‘bro’ - ” couching the word in air quotes, a disdainful pair of twin finger twitches - “and I’m not one of your little pals, like Jounouchi, or whatever. That’s not who I am. That’s not how I do it.” 

“I know,” Yuugi said. “Listen - ”

“I don’t - ” Kaiba huffed and scowled at the counter, at his blurred, misty reflection. “I prefer to handle things on my own. I always have. I don’t - know how - ”

“Kaiba.” 

Kaiba looked up, shoulders stiffening, his face tight and stricken. 

“I know,” Yuugi said. He let that hang between them until Kaiba’s shoulders had eased out of their anxious coils. “Don’t worry. I’m not adding you to the group chat or anything. I don’t expect anything from you except the occasional bitchy comment, and maybe a good, boisterous laugh, from way deep down in your chest, like when you draw Blue-eyes in a duel. You know, the ‘I got you now, fucker’ laugh.”

Kaiba laughed - a laugh at half-power, lacking his usual trumpet blare of triumph, but a laugh nonetheless. “You are an oddball.”

“Birds of a feather,” Yuugi said smugly, and checked his phone. It was getting late. “Okay. I think I’ve bothered you enough for the night - ”

“You’re not bothering me. Are you taking the train back into the city?”

“Yeah.” 

“What line?”

“Red line,” Yuugi said, and was struck by an idea. "Why? Somewhere you wanna go?"

"I'm in the mood to get out of the house for a while," Kaiba said. "It's too fucking quiet in here without Mokuba."

Yuugi fixed him with a look. "Yeah, so one of the interns was telling me about a new arcade that just opened off the Ishibashi station. I was gonna go after work with the guys to check it out some time, but..."

He didn't even need to finish the thought. Despite his best effort to hide it, something hopeful had bloomed across Kaiba's face, rich and warm. It made Yuugi ache to see that look, and to wonder what he would've wished for at fifteen, freshly cast from the forge and still hard and brittle and white-hot with rage, burning everyone who touched him.

"Get your coat, let's go," Yuugi said, and Kaiba almost sprang off his bar stool. "Wait - finish the pear. I cut it fancy for you and everything."

Kaiba rapidly ate the pear. "The grilled cheese was excellent, by the way."

"Really?"

"Yes. If you come back and make me another, I'll make all the bitchy comments you want."

Yuugi laughed. "Deal."

***

ATEM did you talk to him? 

Yuugi leaned against the polished wooden edge of the pool table, his thoughts whirling in his head lazy and kaleidoscopic. He was halfway through his third beer. They'd gone through air hockey. The racing games. The shooting games. Foosball. Kaiba had spent fifteen minutes at the claw machine, winning a plush Kuriboh for a middle schooler and pressing it into her hands with a firm explanation of how the machines were rigged against her. 

Then they'd found the pool tables, in a dim little corner, the green felts shining like tropical islands in a shadowy red-brown sea under the hanging lights. Yuugi was still smarting from the whipping, which Kaiba had delivered with almost careless ease, drink in hand. 

"Yuugi. Look," he said, leaning over the table, aiming the pool cue at some bizarre constellation of pool balls, his long shadow falling across the felt. 

"Give me a sec," Yuugi said, and swiftly rescued Kaiba's sweating old-fashioned from the edge of the table.

YUUGI ya. now he's showing off

YUUGI trick shots at the pool table

ATEM so he's fine?

"You're not looking," Kaiba said, lifting his head. "Look."

"I'm looking," Yuugi said.

The cue moved smoothly between Kaiba's fingertips as he aligned his shot - sleek, frictionless, silent - with a quick, sharp thrust he sent the pool balls smashing into each other, cracking like lightning across the table and vanishing into the pockets. The last ball rolled towards the last pocket with slow, melodramatic flair, teetering over the lip, like it knew exactly who had struck it, and what kind of show it needed to put on. 

It dropped in, clattering into its fellows at the bottom of the pocket.

Kaiba laughed, triumphant, glowing with youthful glory, catching the victory by his hip with a yank of his fist.

YUUGI he will be

"Did you see?" Kaiba said, turning to Yuugi. The lines under his eyes were still there; the seams that held him together, pulling apart. Those would take some time to repair.

But for the moment he was radiating with energy, beaming, star-like in the dim electric gloom of the arcade. Not hidden in the blackness of space, but brighter for it. Despite it.

"I saw," Yuugi said.

[bluedemon1995]

Stay True To Yourself!

I read a story about a girl whose boyfriend took her to a swingers party…but neglected to tell her! And of course, that story led me down a very strange rabbit hole until this popped in my head. Ummm, this one has a little bit of a more adult theme - so please read with caution! This is an alternate reality story- obv not canon.

Katie Holt sat in the car feeling a niggling sense of unease that she cannot dismiss as hard as she tries to shove it down. She tries to narrow down the cause, thinking and analyzing as is her nature. Is it because she hasn’t been dating Mark very long and he picked her up roughly an hour ago. In fact, if she was honest, this was probably the longest amount of time she’d actually spent in his actual company. Previously, it was mostly online chats then a couple of in person short lunch coffee dates. But they were maybe twenty minutes. Is it because they are going to a party and she typically does not enjoy parties? Or maybe it’s because he’s the only person she’d know from this party, and she hates being dependent on anyone. She’d much rather rely on herself.

Regardless of the cause, she tries to shake off the feelings and enjoy the moment. Live a little in the real world like Allura said as she was helping her getting ready. Actually, if she was honest, this was the second novel experience of the day since having a friend come over and help her get ready for a date was a first as well. Yesterday, when she absently mentioned that she could not go to the movies tonight because she was going to a Christmas party with Mark, Allura got so excited. She immediately made plans to go shopping and offered to come and help me get ready. She was honestly more excited than I was but it was nice to have someone care.

Which was nice because her mom and dad had a work Christmas party to go to and her brother was on a date himself. It was nice for Allura to come over and help her out. In spite of the make up, dress and dating tips, she had a good time. Allura was only a couple of actual years older than but in experience she was decades ahead of her!

This year, partly due to their project at work, she’s gotten closer to some of co-workers or team. It’s been a nice change since high school and college where she was mostly alone except for her family and their friends. She loved feeling like people got her sarcasm, her references well, just HER. It was nice to have people who made her stop working to eat lunch or heck, even remembered to check to see if she left work for the day. Slowly but surely her team had become her friends.

Which all leads her back to a few moments ago, when Mark parked and got out of the car, stopping at the hood to wait for her. He looks impatient but whatever, she needs to take a minute alone to get her self under control. Her nerves hit a high point but deciding this was as good as it gets, Pidge stands and walks to the him, impulsively reaching out and holding his hand. It was dark and snowy, she definitely did not want to fall on ice as they walked up! How embarrassing!

He seemed surprised by her hand but quickly pulled her close, “Hey so, this is a special party and I’d really appreciate it if you kept an open mind, think of it as an of it as an experiment.”

Pidge felt like a five alarm bell was suddenly going off at the conclusion of that sentence. FUCK! What was he talking about?!? Why would he say something like that now? It was akin to setting a bomb and saying, do not look at the timer.

While Pidge is having an internal panic attack they walk in-no knocking just walk straight in the door. She doesn’t see anything right off the bat that concerns her. There’s a table where keys were thrown, shoes piled in the front hall and music playing. It was a really nice house, set in one of the fancier subdivisions of the area. Pidge was trying to keep calm but she was annoyed that he’d state something like that as they were walking in the door! What about beforehand so she could of decided?!? And he really didn’t tell her anything, which is worse than knowing.

He takes his shoes off, she does the same. Hesitating, he turns and pulls her towards the kitchen. “Drink? What’s your poison?”

Pidge sighs, beer seems safe and not like she’s going to be drinking much of anything after that bomb he dropped walking in. “Beer is fine, I’d like light if they got it.”

He nods and goes towards the coolers lined up along the wall. Pidge does what she does best, fades into the background and observes the room carefully. The lights seem dim and she could see out the patio doors that more people are out there by the pool. She squints, maybe it’s the just the glare…but are those people naked?!?

Mark comes back at that time with a draft beer which means I won’t be taking a drink of it. Why wouldn’t he give me a bottle or can that I could open myself? I’m quiet and watch Mark take in the party. I wonder who he knows? Suddenly, I look at a pretty girl in a Mrs. Claus outfit who comes up to Mark. She smiles brightly, and proceeds to lock lips with Mark, wow. She’s actually impressive with her ability to wrap around him like a snake yet keep her hand with her drink still, not spilling a drop. I’m actually impressed! My eyes dart around the room, trying to gauge what the hell is going on here. Why would he bring me here if he already has girl???

Finally she breaks off and slides over to me, “Hi, Danni with an I, wanna make out?”

I blink, rapidly, “Um, no, I’m good, but, uh, thank you for the offer though.”

She smiles, “Okay! If you change your mind I’ll be around!”

She flounced away and I looked to Mark, quietly questioning, “Exactly what kind of Christmas party is this? Why am I even here?!?”

He chucked, “It’s a swingers party and you can’t come alone. You NEED to bring a date, you know for the numbers. C’mon, this will be fun.”

I look at him feeling myself turn red. “Wait a minute, I bought a fucking new outfit for this?!? I put goddamn makeup on! You fucking asshole! Look, I could give two shits about what you do, honestly, we aren’t involved like that but why involve me? Could you not find someone else to bring? For fuck’s sake!”

Mark stared at me, having the NERVE to arch a brow, “Cursing really? You know swearing is for people not intelligent enough to come up with a better word. Besides, don’t be a prude, look walk around and find someone you find interesting or hot. There are a lot of people here, like it’s not that hard.”

I close my eyes and as bad as I want to hit him, curse him out, I refrain. Oh, he will pay, just later when there aren’t about a hundred witnesses who can fill out a police report. I take a breath and walk away, back to the front door. I look at the keys, but they all look the same, how would I know which is which. I guess I could take them all but what if someone wants to leave. I step out to the front steps.

Honestly, this could not have happened on a worse night. I can’t call Matt, he’s finally on a date with his current dream girl and my parents at that work party. I close my eyes, take a breath to reign in my anxiety that is sky rocketing and first I try Allura. But, duh, she’s at the movies with Romelle and probably turned her phone off. Shit. My eyes fill with tears but I refuse to let them fall. I take a deep breath, trying Hunk instead another coworker. Straight to voicemail. Shit he might be sleeping.

I look at my contacts and realize, I don’t have a long list of people to call. I sit and sigh, okay no matter how embarrassing I could always get an Uber. I schedule one but because I’m so far it will take about an hour. I walk around to the back and sit on a chair in the dark corner of the backyard. Sitting, I let my finger hover over the last name to try. Here goes nothing. Hanging up I text a short message. What the hell do I have to lose at this point.

I sit. And sit. I don’t know how many girls and guys I rebuff but something about a person not wanting to hook up makes people want to hook up with you apparently. Jeesh, in my real life, no one wanted to date me now everyone was trying to have sex with me. WTF?

Sighing I look at my phone, and crap, it looks like all my surfing has killed my battery. Suddenly a very naked Mark and a different Mrs. Claus come up to me.

Mrs. Claus giggles out, “Hey if you’re nervous, you could totally hook up with my husband. He’s the hot elf over there, standing on the edge of the pool and hot tub. It will be fun! Then if we like, we could continue next week!!” She giggles a lot and I try not to be rude.

“Thank you for that kind offer, but I’m good.”

She shrugs, “Sure thing baby, but aren’t you bored. Marky said you were shy and um, a novice. Don’t be afraid.”

Mark turns and Pidge can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. Only for some guy in his boxers to edge into her space. “Darlin’, you-me-, it’s written in the stars baby.”

I groan, “Nope. You misread them, thank tho.”

Usually once I say no, they just move on. But nope, not this one. “Don’t be a prude. Sex is very natural. It’s elemental. It’s like essential. You need me baby!!”

Really, that’s his line? I shake my head no, but now we’ve got a crowd. I hear people interject how I’m falling into societies lanes and I must be a virgin because I’m sitting by myself. Then I hear people say I should be grateful and oh my gosh, yep, I’ve been transported back to high school. Except I’m not a self conscious kid anymore and I don’t give a fuck what they think about me. But, I’ll be damned if I don’t respond. No one pushes me or pressures me to do something I don’t want to. And I’ve never just gone with the crowd cuz it was easier, not then, not now.

I hear a roar and suddenly all attention is lost on me. I decided to leave before my temper actually erupts. I quickly move towards the gate to get the hell out of here. I’d rather walk home then stay here. Fuck Mark and his party. I might actually brainstorm with Allura and Romelle on a way to get back at him. Something embarrassing.

As I walk away I hear Mark yelling my name, “Katie! Katie! Don’t walk away! You need to expand your senses and life. Don’t be scared. There is so much I could teach you. Don’t be such a prude!”

Laughter.

Well fuck him. Now I’m pissed. I’m not scared. I just don’t want to do this. Yet, who does he think he is telling me what I should do. As if. And what if he did this to other girls, who weren’t able to say no? I turn around and calmly but loudly state, while looking straight at him, “Look, don’t act like I’m the scared one. Who didn’t tell me where they were taking me. If this was a scene I was into, fine. And believe me, I will sleep with whoever I want. I just don’t want to sleep with you nor do I have anything to prove to anyone. But if and when I see a guy or girl for that matter, that I’d like to fuck, then I would. So, shut up, cause Marky you’re just not it.”

I could hear murmurs and then Mark yelling, and his feet slapping on the ground. Ughhhhh. One thing I could be thankful for is seeing him naked, cuz ick. He has no muscle definition and oh my God, I cannot wait to tell Allura how he looks like he waxes cuz he has no hair anywhere on his body.

I turn to walk away and see a guy who I have HAD the luxury of day dreaming about striding towards me with an shit eating smirk. Well, shit, of course. My eyes closes but it doesn’t stop my from seeing him behind my eyes. His hair is slightly matted from his helmet which means the roar must have been his Harley. He has one of his many black t-shirts on with his favorite leather jacket over it. His jeans are well worn and faded not those designer ones that only look used. He has on his riding boots, which of course give him another inch or so of height. Which he loves. Opening my eyes I see him about 6 feet away and I see he still has his riding gloves on.

I determinedly walk towards him only to hear Mark scream, his feet slapping, or at least I hope it’s his feet. He yells, “Yeah right, you prude-like you would ever-“

I reach said hot guy and say, “I’m kissing you in two seconds. One, two.”

I fist my hand in his shirt and pull him closer to me. Except he doesn’t move, so I look up into his eyes and arch a brow, he arches his, which causes me to roll my eyes and I open my mouth to tell him to go to hell when grins. With his hands on my hips pulls me into his hard body, throwing me off balance. I slip my arms around him lift my head and his lips slam onto mine. Ok, point proven. Yet, as I lean back to break the kiss, I feel two arms encompass me, hold me close and reposition me.

His mouth re-angles on mine, I feel myself lifted on my tip toes. Omg, the heat of his body is amazing. I didn’t even realize I was cold sitting out here but against his body I felt like was next to a heater. His tongue pushes past my lips and, well, I stopped thinking for a full minute, hell maybe minutes. It was that good of a kiss. Shit. His tongue stroked mine, made me shiver and then he nipped my lip causing a groan. I literally could feel him smile and I was going to move back when his hand fisted in my hair and he started to kiss my neck and holy crap! I think my knees buckled but it didn’t matter because he picked me up and my legs were suddenly wrapped around his waist. His hands were supporting my weight but I think they were actually under my dress. My hands were in his hair and digging into his shoulder respectively. Well. Hell.

I don’t know how long that went on for when suddenly I hear Mark right next to us yelling, “That’s enough.”

Slowly pulling back, his gravelly voice questions, “Outta here or are we continuing the show? Just to be clear, I’m good with either decision.” He then arches that fucking brow.

Face flaming, I whisper, “Let’s go. Please.”

Eyes on me, he nods. “What’s asshole’s name?”

“Mark.”

Nodding he raises his voice, “Hey Mark, fuck off and if I ever see you again, you’re dead.”

A girl in just a string bikini bottom steps in front of us, drawing our attention. Her hand is gliding down her chest when she looks right at him, throatily murmuring, “Wanna upgrade?”

He laughs, “Um already did. Let’s go Pidge.”

He moves his hands and I lower my legs. He instantly laces his fingers with mine and pulls me to the path back to the front. “Keith! You can’t say that! You know about Mark being dead meat.”

“Just did.”

“Why, what, are you even doing here?”

As he places his helmet on my head and carefully tightens the straps, “I saw Shiro’s phone buzz, so I looked. It seemed like something that couldn’t wait. So here I am.”

Blinking I nod, “Okay. I said I had an Uber coming.”

“Saw, don’t care. I, um, didn’t like the idea of you being here when you didn’t want to be. So yeah, deal.”

“But why didn’t you respond?”

“I pinged your location to my phone and left. Didn’t think about it honestly.”

“What if I was gone?”

He shrugged as we approached his bike, which was on the lawn! “As long as you were safe.”

He then takes off his coat, slipping it around my shoulders, “Arms in, it’s cold when we start moving.” Eyes on her legs, fingers play with her skirt, brushing her thighs. “I can’t do anything about your legs though. Let me know if you need a break. We can stop as often as you need.”

I nod, and as we drive into the night, my arms tight around his waist, I can’t help but smile. Keith Fucking Kogane. Damn this boy can kiss. Maybe there is hope for my love life after all. I feel his hand cover my hand on his abdomen, squeeze and drift down to my leg. I squeeze him a little tighter and I know it’s just my imagination but I swear I can hear his laughter.

My hero.

[softboywriting]

A Perfect Fall

Summary: You and Shawn have been best friends for most of your lives and since you were a teenager you’ve had a crush on him. He has no idea, or so you think. Things are about to change, and all it takes is a trip to the best pumpkin patch around for true feelings to surface. [fluff] [best friends to lovers] [fall/autumn theme]

Word Count: 4k

|Masterlist In Bio|

If someone were to ask you your favorite color you would say gold. Gold like the leaves on the trees in the middle of October. Gold like the letters of Shawn’s last name gilded across the back of the letter man jacket that sits over your desk chair at home that he left there a year ago. Gold like the sun going down over the river on a cool autumn night. But most of all, gold, like the color Shawn's eyes are when he sits across from you in a barn an hour from your house and stares out at horses in the nearby corral. He's beautiful. Breathtaking. Outstanding in every way. He's your best friend in the entire world and he has no idea that you're completely gone for him, or does he? Let's go back to how this day started.

Beeping, incessant, droning beeping. The sound of your alarm clock going off at its regular time, seven in the morning. Right now you should be getting up and making yourself appear to be somewhat human before heading to class, praying you remembered all of your homework. You should be scrambling through your kitchen, grabbing a banana for breakfast as you head out to meet Shawn in his Jeep. Not this week though. It's the first day of Thanksgiving break and you're so happy to be able to smash that snooze button and bury your face into a pillow.

Your phone goes off, a low buzz buzz against the pillow your head is on. You've almost fallen back to sleep, nearly reached that floaty state of perfect warmth under the blankets that gives you an express ticket to dreamland. Almost.

Buzz buzz.

"For the love of everything holy, can you go away?" You groan angrily into the pillow. As if the phone might switch itself into silent mode out of pure fear. That would be that day wouldn't it?

Buzz buzz.

You slide your hand under the pillow and extract your phone, turn your head just enough to see the screen and lay it against the pillow next to you. Three missed messages.

Shawn: you awake?

Shawn: get up loser i have coffee

Shawn: I'll come in there

You drop the phone on its face and tug your blanket up over your head. If he wants you to get up on your first day of this mini vacation from the hell that is your second year of college, he can come get you his damn self. He may be your best friend, and yes, you may be head over heels for him, but getting up early on vacation happens for no man.

The sound of rattling outside your window followed by a dull thump is a dead giveaway that Shawn has scaled your mother's new trellis and tripped on the old shingles of the back patio roof. Clumsy and dumb. That's Shawn for you.

"Get up, hey," he talks against the glass as if you'll hear him better by doing so but ends up only muffling his voice further. "I know you're up."

"Go away!"

"No!"

The latch on the window wiggles, you can hear a familiar scrape of his student ID card from his wallet against the wood of the window frame. You watch as the ancient lock flips 180 degrees and the window slides up, sending a cold gust of morning air into your bedroom.

"You're a dick." Shawn grumbles, squeezing through the narrow window frame. He's had trouble getting through it since freshman year of high school. Really the only reason he's climbing through it now is to avoid making too much noise coming in the front door and enduring the wrath of your dad who is surely still asleep because he works nights at the packing plant in town. Shawn woke him up once by just walking too loudly and that was enough.

"You're a dick for waking me up on my vacation." You roll over and face the wall.

Shawn flops on the bed, leaning over across your legs and waving something in your face. "I am not, I'm the best person ever."

"Nope."

"Come on! Look at the tickets!"

You slip your hand out of the blankets and snatch the papers from Shawn's hand. Two all access passes to the Friendly Farms Pumpkin Patch. You narrow your eyes at him and he raises his eyebrows. This is such an unfair move. He knows how much you love pumpkin patches and he knows that you've never been to the Friendly Farms Pumpkin Patch because it's so far away and it usually costs an arm and a leg if you don't buy preseason passes.

"Eh? Whatdya say? Me, you, old J-Bone and the open road to the best place to get your pumpkins this side of the river?"

You groan and drop the tickets on the pillow. "Okay! Okay fine I'll get up." You shove the blanket back and it covers his lap. "But stop calling the Jeep "J-Bone" it's so weird."

"She has a name okay, and I'm gonna call her by it."

You sit up and shove him down on the bed. "Freak."

"Only for you." He smirks, sticking his tongue out and making lewd licking motions.

"Oh God please stop." You throw your pillow at his face and get up to get dressed in whatever was semi clean. Laundry had taken a backseat to classwork these days, you’re planning on catching up during the break.

One big hoodie, Shawn's that he left at your house a few days ago, a pair of leggings under some fitted sweatpants and a lopsided ponytail later and you're ready to go. As promised Shawn has a coffee in the Jeep for you as well as a croissant breakfast sandwich.

"How long is this drive again?" You ask over a mouth full of buttery sausage and egg goodness. "An hour?"

"An hour and a half."

"I'm gonna go to sleep then."

Shawn chuckles. He pulls the Jeep out of your driveway and heads for the highway. "I have a feeling you'll stay awake."

"Why's that?"

"The drive is too beautiful to miss."

_________________________________

Shawn is absolutely correct. The drive down the highway is way too incredible to miss for just a few more minutes of sleep. Of course you've seen the trees around your town turn shades of red, orange and yellow before but driving through open roads where trees grow in massive forests completely unbridled by man, is an experience you won't soon forget. Never in your life have you seen so many different hues of fall colors at one time.

"Shawn, pull over, I need to get out and do something."

Shawn looks over and quickly turns off the highway onto the shoulder where the gravel meets the grass. "Everything okay?"

"More than okay." You grin and unbuckle your seatbelt. You open the passenger door and slide out, leaving the door open as you tromp across the grass to the edge of the forested area. Behind you Shawn kills the engine and you can hear his door open then close followed by your door being closed.

"What are you doing?" He laughs, following you into the trees. "We're not even at the pumpkin patch and you're going crazy."

"I've been crazy. You know that, come on, we've been friends for how long?"

"Twelve years and counting."

You stop before a tree that has bring pinkish red leaves on it. They're like no others around it and you pick up a few of the ones that have fallen. "Pink leaves." You hold them out and Shawn takes one.

"These are pretty. I've never seen them this color."

"Take my picture? I wanna remember this tree forever."

Shawn takes your phone and types in your pass code to unlock it. He's the only person on the planet who knows it beside you and you know his as well. "Alright, do you wanna pose or something?"

"I'm gonna throw a bunch of leaves up in the air and if you can, try to snap the picture as they fall around me?"

"I'll do my best." He chuckles and kneels down a bit to get you in full frame for a better angle.

"Okay on three? One, two, three!" You fling an arm full of leaves up into the air and laugh as they rain down over you.

"Nailed it."

"Really?!" You rush over and Shawn hands you the phone. Sure enough it's you standing and grinning at the leaves as they fall around you with the pink tree in the background. "Oh my God it's perfect."

Shawn puts his arm around you and starts walking back to the Jeep. "I've been messing around with my friend Josiah's camera a bit. He showed me a few tricks for everyday stuff."

"Oh wow, fancy boy."

"Shut up, I am not fancy."

"Fancy pants Mendes learning all the tips and tricks on photography to pick up chicks."

He scoffs. "Yeah, as if. I just wanted to try it out. Josiah takes some awesome photos and it looks so easy, I was curious how he did it."

"I'm just teasing you Shawn." You pat his chest as you reach the Jeep and he pulls his arm away from you. "I think it's cool that you're interested in photography. It's definitely something that could be useful one day."

"Like taking photos of you today."

You smile and let out a little laugh. "Yeah, definitely like today."

Shawn gets in the Jeep and you haul yourself up into the passenger's seat. "You ready for the real fun to begin?"

"Hell yeah. How many pumpkins do you think we can fit in the back of this thing?"

"I dunno," he says, looking into the back where the seats are down and then looks at you. "But we're not going to find out."

"Buzz kill."

"Sorry, but I'm not having my Jeep chock full of pumpkins."

"Psh, it's for science."

Shawn's rolls his eyes and signals as he pulls out onto the highway. The two of you have at least another forty minutes before you reach the farm. Shawn turns up the radio and you decide to lean the seat back and just enjoy the rest of the ride.

_________________________________

The entryway to the Friendly Farms Pumpkin Patch is huge. There are wrought iron gates with metal pumpkin cutouts all along the bars of the fencing with ivy like casts on the top. Shawn drives down the bumpy dirt road to the designated parking area and stops to park near the ticket windows and actual gates inside. There are maybe a dozen cars already parked as well, which considering the popularity of the place isn't hardly anyone. It's still early though, they have just opened for business at nine and it's only about a quarter till ten.

Shawn opens the back of the Jeep while you grab your backpack purse off the floor of the backseat. "Do you need a water bottle?"

"Yeah." You walk around to meet him. "I thought you were going eco friendly?"

"I am." He hands you a reusable metal bottle. "I promise I washed it this morning."

You slip the bottle into your side pocket and chuckle. "Like we haven't been sharing germs forever."

"True." He closes the door and pulls the tickets out of his back pocket. "Ready?"

"I was born ready."

Shawn wraps his arm around your shoulders and heads to the ticket windows. You're excited beyond belief to see what is in store for you beyond the corn stalk covered gates before you. It's going to be perfect.

_________________________________

To say the pumpkin patch is beyond expectations would be about right. You and Shawn walk past the ticket booths and through the gates into a whole town built up around the fall theme. There are shopping booths, food booths, a sign for a corn maze, a hay rack ride, and the pumpkin patch. There is a whole slew of games and places to take photos as well and all that is just what you can see when you walk inside. There's a whole path along the shops that just keeps going and you are floored.

Shawn grins at you, beaming, because you're beaming right back at him. He knew this place was going to be great. Photos online just didn't do it justice. "What do you wanna do first?"

"Just...take it all in." You walk forward toward the center of the town like set up where there is a huge wooden windmill, hay bales and benches all sitting in a circle around it.

Shawn walks along beside you and chuckles. "It's pretty awesome."

"Awesome isn't the word." You laugh and plop down on a hay bale next to a smiley homemade scarecrow. "It's a dream, Shawn."

"I'm glad." He thumbs toward a nearby caramel apple stand. "Let's get a snack and start this day right huh?"

"You read my mind."

_________________________________

You and Shawn spend the whole late morning into the early afternoon wandering around, checking out the entire lay out of the pumpkin patch. You grab cider around eleven and then cocoa at noon. A late lunch consists of a shared smoked turkey leg, a funnel cake and some tomato salad that was being made fresh by some little old ladies at a booth near the center of the patch. The food is incredible and you and Shawn take turns feeding each other bites of this and that, giggling when one of you ends up with powdered sugar on your face from the funnel cake.

Spending time like this with Shawn is the best and worst thing to ever happen to you. It's a glimpse at what life with him would be like if you were together. Your heart swells every time he leans in to say something about the scenery that he’s noticed because you think he's going to kiss you.

Lunch wraps up and Shawn goes to toss your trash in a nearby oak barrel that's set up as a trashcan. He dusts his hands off on his jeans and pulls his sweater off over his head. "Here," he holds it out to you and you raise your eyebrows.

"Why do I want it?"

"Because you're going to get cold on the hayrack ride."

"Psh no I won't."

"Yeah you will." Shawn bunches up the sweater from the bottom up and holds it out for you to put your arms in. "Come on, I know you wanna."

You stick your arms out and he helps you get the sleeves over them and tugs the sweater down so your head pops through the neck hole. "It's so warm." You look down and pull out the soft knit fabric that's far too large on you. "You must be like a thousand degrees."

Shawn shrugs. "I'm always hot. You've slept with me, you know that."

"I-I-" You freeze, brain definitely going down a very different road from what Shawn means.

"Yes?" He chuckles.

"I have not slept with you."

"Well, not like that but... y'know." He shrugs and you knit your brows together.

What does that mean? Y'know what? What do you know? Does he want to sleep with you like that? What...just what?

Shawn waves his hand in your face. "Hey, earth to space cadet. The hayrack ride is gonna be boarding soon."

"Oh! Yeah!" You shake your head and start walking toward the signs pointing to the line for it. Shawn follows close behind, throwing his arm around your shoulders and leaning his head on yours.

You and Shawn take a seat at the back of the ride on a hay bale covered with a red plaid blanket. He's completely right about you needing his sweater. It is a lot colder up off the ground with the breeze from the moving ride blowing around you.

"Look, there's the pumpkins!" Shawn says, pointing to the left.

You look over through the slats of the walls of the ride. Sure enough there is a sea of orange pumpkins and deep green leaves that are yellowing with age as the plants are ready to be picked. There are a couple of very big ones and you definitely need one of those. You don't care how you get it to the car, you need it.

"Check those out," you say, pointing out the massive pumpkins.

"Holy cow those gotta be like fifty pounds."

"I want one."

"Okay."

You sit back and stare at him with your eyes wide. "Okay? You're not gonna convince me to get a few small ones instead?"

"Nope." He grins. "I'll buy you that pumpkin there."

"What's the catch?"

"No catch."

You narrow your eyes but don't argue the deal any further. He must have some motive. There has to be some catch. Maybe he'll say you have to move it or something. Seems fishy.

The ride stops at the entrance to the pumpkin picking area and you and Shawn get off with a few other visitors. There are tons of great pumpkins all around but you waste no time heading for the giant ones.

"How are you going to lift that?" Shawn pipes up as you reach them.

"Well, that's why I've got you."

"Oh? I'm gonna lift that?"

"Please?" You pout your lip out. "You said you'd buy it for me."

"I did." He chuckles, circling the giant orange mass. "I sure did."

"Regretting that?"

"Absolutely not."

You put your hands into the sleeves of Shawn's sweater and put them over your ears. They're cold and you wish you'd brought a hat or even some earmuffs. "Can I get it? For real?"

"Yes." Shawn kneels down and lifts the pumpkin up with ease. "Let's go."

"Isn't that heavy?"

"Not that heavy." He smirks and you walk next to him out of the patch to the line of employees waiting with ATVs that have little trailers attached for carrying visitors pumpkins to their cars or to the front entrance to drop them off until they leave.

"Name and car description?" The woman at the ATV asks as Shawn loads up the pumpkin.

"Ah-"

"Mendes with an s. Black four door Jeep Wrangler." Shawn says, dusting his hands off. "We'll pick it up at the gates."

"Alrighty." The woman scribbles down Shawn's information and peels a sticker of her clipboard to put on the pumpkin. "You got a big one eh?"

"Yes." Shawn wraps his arms around you and lays his chin on top of your head. "Biggest one for my best friend."

"That's so sweet. Would you like to pay here or at the gate?"

"Here." Shawn pulls his wallet out and hands over a ten dollar bill, the rate for extra large pumpkins from the yard. "Thank you ma'am."

"It's what we do," she says with a smile and a tip of her floppy straw hat. "I'll see this baby up to the gates. Have a friendly fun time!"

You and Shawn wave her off as she drives away with your pumpkin.

Shawn pulls away from you and grabs your sweater covered hands. "Wanna go over to the barn and feed the horses?"

You glance over at the big red barn where they show the horses and cattle throughout the day. "Sure. It doesn't look took busy."

Shawn turns around and squats down. "Get on my back, I'll carry you over there."

"What? Why? I can walk!" You laugh and he pats his back.

"Come on!"

"Okay okay, don't have to tell me twice." You climb on his back and he hoists you up so he can hook his arms under your legs. It reminds you of when you were nine and you first met. Shawn was big then too, tall for his age and athletic as ever being in hockey almost year round. He would always give you piggy back rides around the yard to catch lightning bugs on hot summer nights.

Shawn drops you off on a haybale near the first stall inside the barn. There is literally no one in there at the moment and you have the place all to yourselves. "I'm going to get a couple of drinks. Any preference?"

"Cider is fine. Hot please."

He disappears and you lean back against the old wooden wall. Today has been one of the best days of your life hands down. It's everything you love all wrapped into one, a pumpkin patch, oversized sweaters, hot cider, pumpkin picking...Shawn. You sigh and chuckle to yourself. Did Shawn realize how romantic this is? Did he have any clue how it must seem to any stranger passing by? The two of you would be the cutest couple. The dynamic is there, but what you lack is a pair of balls to say or do anything.

"Hot cider." Shawn says, handing you your brown paper cup and sitting down on the hay bale opposite you. "Fresh too."

"Thanks." You smile as you sip the warm spicy sweet liquid.

Shawn stares out at the corral nearby, eyes catching and sparkling in the late afternoon sun. He's gorgeous. Everything about him makes your heart soar. From his soft eyes to his slightly rough hands curled delicately around his paper cup, he is truly the only person you've cared so deeply for.

"Can I ask you something?" You say softly, barely realizing you've spoken. Too late to take it back now.

"Anything."

"Why haven't we ever gone out?"

He chuckles, a wide smile spreading across his face like wildfire. "Haven't we though?"

"No?"

"Can I tell you something?"

You lean forward, setting your cup beside your folded legs on the hay bale. "Of course, anything."

"This was supposed to be a date." He bites his lip and looks down, thumb circling the spout of his lid. "I was going to ask you out, like, for real."

"W-what?"

"Yeah." He laughs, looking up, anywhere but at you. "I chickened out though. I didn't ask you, I just sort of handed you the tickets and said let's go. Which in retrospect was fine, but it's definitely not what I had planned on doing."

"You wanted to take me on a date?"

"Yeah?"

"You...you want to be more than friends?"

Shawn rubs the back of his neck. "Shit, I guess? It's weird. You make me happier than literally anyone I've ever dated. You get my jokes and you sass me right back when I get smart with you. You're really beautiful and sexy in this crazy everyday way without even trying. And you're so smart and- how could I not want to date you? I've literally been so stupid for my entire life because I-"

You lean across the hay bale and press your lips to his. It's a moment you've been waiting for since you were thirteen years old and first realized you had feelings for him. You didn't expect to be the one initiating the kiss but here you are and there Shawn is. You pull back and Shawn just gawks at you.

"That was...you...you taste like apple cider."

You giggle. "You do too, dork."

"Can we do it again?" He asks, putting his cup aside and leaning toward you. "I think I need another taste."

"Mmhmm."

Shawn cups your cheeks and brings you in, kissing you lovingly like this is his way of making up for the last twelve years of your lives. He tugs you forward gently and you crawl over onto his lap, straddling his thighs as you grip his hair. It's been forever since he's had a haircut and it's a bit long, soft as can be, curly and absolutely grabable.

"Hey," he mutters, pulling back just enough to break the kiss. He bumps his nose to yours and you open your eyes to see his beautiful green and gold flecked hazel ones staring back at you. "Do you wanna go out with me?"

You smile and nudge his nose with yours once more. "I thought you'd never ask."

End.

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

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Thank you so much for reading this piece!  - A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

[onyxmin]

When the Were Bites

You accidentally let a werewolf into your house

It's a few weeks before Halloween and you are getting ready for the next full moon, which happens to be the night before the 31st. It became dark about an hour ago and you need some herbs for decorations from your backyard. Might as well grab what you’ll need for dinner tomorrow too.

You step out onto the patio, and with a snap of your fingers you have light illuminating from some of your outdoor candles. Mint, sage and coriander are the closest to you and then head towards the section of your garden where your nightshade is hidden in plain sight.

Once you have grabbed everything you need and begin to turn back in the direction of the house, you hear a loud rustling between the trees directly behind you. You slowly turn on your heel to see if you can see anything and are met with glowing yellow eyes. It is too low to be an owl and way too tall to be a stray cat. Despite being a supernatural being yourself, you just think its a wild dog and head back inside.

Everything you picked from outside, is quickly set down on the kitchen counter. Then, you search for two larger bowls to fill with cold water and some scraps leftover from dinner. The bowls are taken outside to be set down on the far side of your patio. You leave the candles lit and head back inside.

A few hours go by and you are startled from your reading by a loud crash coming from the backyard. With your mind, you quickly bookmark the page as you hurdle over the back of the plush couch in your fully decorated living room. You peek outside and see the candles are no longer lit but you can faintly hear some shuffling out there.

Normally one might think there might be a person trying to get into your house but you knew that couldn't be. Even if there were, with your vast knowledge of spells you'd be safe. Flicking on the porch light would probably scare whatever’s out there so you just sit and listen. A deep and heavy breathing accompanied by a scratching noise can be heard through the crack in the nearby kitchen window. You are super curious to see what kind of animal you possibly lured into your backyard but it's way too dark to see. Of course there are plenty of spells to fix that but you can’t think of one off the top of your head.

Soon it grows quiet outside so you turn on the porch light and you quickly catch a glimpse of a giant dog hopping over your fence and tailing it back to the treeline. Before the big mass of fur disappears, its head whips around and you meet those glowing yellow eyes once more before they vanish out of sight.

Night after night you now leave the porch light on and keep refilling the same bowls you leave out for your visitor. You like the company even though you are inside while the stray dog quietly eats its meal outside. Sometimes it will stay long after your offerings are gone and lay out on the patio furniture strewn about. You don’t mind since it’s now cold out and it’s not like they’re being used anyways.

Tonight it seems like the dog waits for you to get ready for bed before leaving. You just finished brushing your teeth and changing into pajamas before checking outside and turning off all the lights. When you reach the sliding door heading outback, you startle seeing the dog sitting a foot or two away from the door and peering inside. You cautiously approach the door and gently wave at the mutt. It stands up and looks like it nods at you before bounding away, up and over the fence once more before it's gone. You retrieve the bowls and set them into the sink before turning off the lights, checking that the doors are locked and head to bed.

Several nights go by and no sign of the stray dog. You’re honestly worried it didn't like the leftovers from the last time it stopped by and maybe even thought someone else was feeding it better than you possibly could. You cleaned up the bowls but put fresh water back outside just in case your new furry acquaintance might return.

It's a little past midnight when you go check on the back door to make sure it's locked when you happen to notice a big hunched over figure slowly making its way toward the fence. You turn the light switch on and see the dog you are now familiar with but something seems off. Once the dog approaches the fence, it puts its front paws up on the chain links but is unable to do much more than that. You realize its hurt.

In an instant, the door is unlocked and flung open before you dash towards the fence separating you from the big midnight black dog. It cowers a bit once you reach the gate.

“Hey, its ok. I won’t hurt you, I promise.” You coo softly as you unlock the gate and flip up the latch.

You slowly open the gate and step away to see if it will come inside. The dog lowers itself back onto the ground and heads in your direction. You hold a hand out so it can sniff you as it passes. Its large snout snuffles your hand, making you giggle due to the tickling sensation on your palm. You close and lock the gate and wait upon the porch.

The dog makes it up the last step and collapses. You rush over, checking for a pulse and any wounds. Clearly it's passed out from exhaustion but no wounds can be seen. The thick black fur and the mattedness of it doesn't help in the search for any injuries.

You try desperately to lift the dog up but no luck, it has to weigh just as much as you! You cradle its head at least as you rack your brain for a specific spell to help you out during your current situation. It doesn’t take you long before one comes to mind and you start to chant an incantation, one to make a living thing or object weightless. Now you are able to carry the dog with ease and bring it into your home.

You lay the exhausted dog down on a heap of blankets in front of the fireplace. Quickly getting to work on making sure it's comfortable, grabbing some fresh water for it to drink once it wakes up and starting a small fire. You re-lock the back door and head to bed, hoping the dog will be awake and feeling better in the morning.

As soon as you awake, you wipe the sleep from your eyes and throw on your favorite hoodie before heading out into the living room. What you find is not what you were expecting.

A man. A completely naked man lay before you on the pile of blankets you set out last night. At least he was partially covered by one of the blankets, thank the stars. You held in a squeak, making sure not to wake him from his deep slumber. Quietly, you approached the man to check to see how he was holding up.

You tentatively pressed two fingers down on his throat, he was alive. You thanked the stars once more. You noticed he seemed flushed and way too warm to the touch. Your hand traveled up to his forehead, he was burning up. Nothing a cold rag and poultice couldn’t help!

After retrieving the cold rag and pressing it to his forehead, you set to work on the poultice. If you wanted to ensure the success rate, the longer it would take to make but you had to make sure this stranger was ok. It didn't even cross your mind through the shock, confusion, and worry that you had a werewolf in your house.

So focused on making sure the poultice is perfect, you don't hear the man in the other room stir. When you turn around to grab something out of one of the covers you see him sitting up. You blink and stand there unmoving, unsure of what you should do. He blinks back at you and raises his hand in a wave, making you smile.

He then looks down and sees the current state he’s in, clutching the blanket closer and muttering, “Oh shit.”

You feel yourself blush and lightly laugh before grabbing what you originally needed and turn away. “How are you feeling?” You gently call out to him.

“I feel like my skin has been set on fire and kind of disoriented. Uh, thanks for letting me in through the gate last night. I didn’t have a place to go and coming here was the first place I thought of.”

You hum in response, mulling over what he said. Then it clicks. He’s the dog. Who shifted into a human, probably during a state of duress and weakness. You let a werewolf into your house!

“You didn’t realize did you?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Not at first no. Should I be worried though? I mean not to stereotype you or anything but most weres are.. dangerous and aggressive.”

He smiles and shakes his head, causing you to release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You were unsure what to say next so you set your attention on finishing up the task at hand and made a mental note to get him some clothes.

As soon as you finished, you grabbed a mug and filled it with hot water. With a flick of your wrist, a tea bag appeared in the steaming mug. You grabbed the poultice and tea to give to the unnamed werewolf.

“Here, drink up.” You handed him the mug, which he took gladly.

“First off, hi I’m Y/N. It's nice to officially meet you.”

“I’m Yoongi, nice to officially meet you too.” He says with a small smile before taking a sip of the tea you gave him.

You just remembered he needs some clothes. You close your eyes and in your mind, you search your closet for the biggest pair of sweats you own and a baggy t-shirt. Once they are found, you have them float into the living room with a snap of your fingers.

You know you’ve caught Yoongi off guard when you hear a low growl coming from the back of his throat When you open your eyes, you can see the hair on his arms bristling due to the newly appeared clothes laid flat on the couch.

“I am so sorry! I did not mean to startle you.” You tell him sincerely, lightly reaching your hand out to touch his hand. He calms and looks down at your hand.

“Ah sorry. I tend to forget personal space sometimes. But speaking of that, what happened last night? I know you must be in pain so I made this.” You motion towards the bowl in your other hand.

He eyes the bowl and sniffs the air, scrunching his nose in the process. You laugh at his reaction and how cute he looks with his nose like that.

He just glares at you for laughing and waits for you to stop. He then clears his throat and takes a few more sips of tea before speaking.

“Well to answer your question, the local pack that's been trying to recruit me doesn’t like the fact that I have been visiting you and taking your leftover scraps. They have no idea you are a witch and if they did, I would probably be in much worse condition than I am now. So because I refused to stop visiting you, they tried to get the message across. One of them fucking bit me so I returned the favor tenfold. They look worse than me.”

You feel saddened by what they did to him but you can’t help but smile that he took them all on by himself just so he could stand by his own beliefs. Especially just so he could continue visiting you.

“Where are you hurt? I know you can heal quicker than humans but it still needs to be treated. The venom will slow down the healing process that you could get an infection. That’s probably why you feel like you're on fire.”

Yoongi cautiously rolls up the blanket, revealing a huge bite mark right above his left knee. You inhale sharply, seeing how painful it is and even more so because it's definitely infected.

You coat your hand with the poultice and delicately smear it over the bite. You get a hiss in reply and a hand gripping your free one tightly. He sure has super strength but you ignore him crushing your hand and finish dressing his wound. You’re about to ask if he’s been hurt anywhere else when you notice a dark purple bruise peeking out from the top of the blanket, right below his ribcage. You are seething at this point.

You quickly stood up, grabbing the baggy sweatpants and throw them at his face. His reflexes were quick, he barely dodged getting smacked in the face by the airborne sweats.

“Put those on and make sure the left pant leg is rolled up so it doesn’t irritate your bite. As soon as you're done, I need to attend to that nasty bruise. You might have a broken rib or two.” You spin around on your heel after barking out an order and wait for him to get dressed so you can finish getting him on the mend.

You hear a chuckle behind you.

“No privacy?” You can just tell he’s smirking right now.

“I told you already I have no personal space. Plus by the time I left the room, you’d already be dressed. You done now?”

“All yours witchy poo.” You whip around and glare at him. With a snack of your fingers, a pillow is sent flying at his face at lightning speed. He was too slow to dodge that and it surely wiped that smirk off his face.

You plop down onto the floor in front of Yoongi and wait for him to give you the ok to see if he’s broken any ribs. He knows this will probably hurt so he latches on to one of your hands again before nodding. You lightly skim your fingers over the bruise, waiting for a reaction. Nothing. Slowly you start applying pressure to see what hurts and what doesn’t. He’s a trooper so far but you can’t tell if anything is broken or not. This is going to hurt.

You press down harder, feeling a fracture in one of his ribs and more your hand up to check the others when a loud yowl rips through your ear canals and you are tackled to the ground.

“Hey, hey it's ok! I’m really sorry but I need to make sure you don’t have any more fractures.” Yoongi growls above you but goes back to his sitting position, doing his best to sit still. Before taking another feel of his possibly broken ribs, you plop down in front of him and cast a spell to keep him immobilized.

You move to the rib above the one that's fractured, and now you scream in pain. He bit you!

“How in the hell did you do that?! You can’t move!” He still somehow managed to fight against your spell a bit and latch on to your shoulder. You quickly use the remaining poultice on his bruise and move away before removing the immobilization spell.

“That hurt!” He growled at you.

“Oh, like biting me wouldn’t hurt either?!” You shake your head, placing your hand over the mark on your shoulder and begin to close up the wound. Bites by supernatural beings that are taken care of properly and quickly will heal and disappear, with or without magic.

The wound closes but the mark doesn’t fade. You try again but still nothing. You glance over and see Yoongi staring at you wide-eyed.

“What now?”

He’s silent for a moment or two before speaking.

“I don’t think that’s going to go away. Bites by a werewolf that leave a scar behind means you’re my soulmate.”

You feel like you’re going to faint. You have never heard of a witch being a soulmate to any other supernatural besides another witch. Sure vampires and werewolves can have a soulmate of the opposite species but never this. But a part of you is elated by this news, you’ve already grown attached to this man in dog form and you can’t deny that he's very handsome in human form.

“Do you think that’s why you were drawn here, to me? And felt like you had to protect me from the others?”  You ask quietly, looking straight into his soft brown eyes. He holds your stare and nods, a cute smile adorning his lips.

“Well looks like you’re stuck with me!”

It's the day before  All Hallows Eve and you are now officially living with a werewolf. His wounds have finally completely healed and he’s feeling right at home. You’ve grown much closer during his slow healing process due to that nasty bite on his leg. But it's the full moon tonight and that means it's his first change while living with you. You’re nervous, especially now that he won’t be home until the moon disappears from the morning sky.

He reassures you everything will be fine, he won’t be able to hurt you if he’s back out in the woods. He has come to learn you are a natural worrier and that makes him drawn to you even more. Yoongi hugs you tight and kisses you on the forehead before releasing you from his bear-like grip.

“Don’t wait up for me, I’ll be back before you know it. Safe and sound ok? I promise.” With that he’s out the door and scaling the fence, heading deep into the heart of the woods.

When Yoongi returns home early in the morning, he finds you curled up on the couch.

“I told you not too wide up for me silly girl.” He whispers. He scoops you up with ease and carries you back to your bedroom.

He gently sets you down and goes to grab some blankets when he feels a hand wrapped around his wrist, lightly tugging. His free hand grips the blankets and pulls them over you before attempting to break free from your hold. For a sleeping witch, you are still pretty strong.

Yoongi gives in and climbs into bed, curling up beside you. You immediately snuggle up into his warmth. You may have only known each other for a very short amount of time, but you’re soulmates. Might as well get used to each other, nothing better like the present.

Soon Yoongi is drifting off to sleep too. Eager to spend your favorite time of year with you and tell you how much he missed you during his date with the full moon.

[valentines-in-london]

I Need Fire (Part 18)

Authors Note:  Please I encourage you to listen to Send Her My Love by Journey while reading the beginning of this chapter followed by Faithfully by Journey, both songs were huge inspirations for this chapter!  I hope this chapter makes up for the last few!!  As always any and all feedback is more than welcome<3 Word Count: 3,898 Warnings: a bit of angst and fluff Taglist:   @freddiessmallnipples @triplehaitches @samanthadegaro @lauravic @oh-well1 @la-sorciere-fleur @anxious-diabetic @xdeath-soulx  @fanofnightz If you’d like to be added please let me know!

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Chapter 18 December 23rd

One week, seven days, one hundred and sixty eight hours, ten thousand and eighty minutes. That’s how long Tommy had been gone.  Rayne had tried everything to find out where he was, to no avail, so either he really was MIA or people were covering up for him.  She was sure Doc was covering up for him, he claimed to have no idea when she called. Nikki was out of his mind on drugs but claimed to have no idea.  It was frustrating and she was close to giving up.  Rayne had fallen asleep outside on the back patio night after night on one of the lounge chairs.  She would wrap herself in an oversized blanket and the brisk cool California air and the sound of waves swirled around her lulling her to sleep.

She’d been spending a lot of time outside for the past week, she felt such emptiness when she stayed in the house.  So she would choose the chill of the outside world, than the emptiness of the home she lived in.  It hurt too much to see the Christmas tree and the decorations around the house that they had put up when they first got back.  Rayne hadn’t even turned on any of the Christmas lights all month, which usually symbolized such joy for her.  To top it all off she wasn't even sure if her Christmas plans were still happening.  She and Tommy talked about hosting Christmas Eve dinner and Christmas dinner with his family at their new home.  She'd went out and bought all the food one day after work that week, she just hoped she had someone to feed it to.

There was some good news however, Rayne had gone to the doctor for a follow up and he said she was healing very well.  She could go back to taking baths and more strenuous exercise.  Rayne had gone to a kickboxing class every day since the check up.  It was practically therapy going to the classes, which is why she always loved kick boxing.  Her doctor also told her she could resume normal sexual activity which she did everything she could to not let out a laugh at that statement.  She couldn’t even if she wanted to.  But tonight she was going to go out and have fun.  Journey was playing a show at the Forum and she was always in love with Steve Perry’s voice.  Tommy and her had planned to go but since he was MIA she wasn’t going to miss out.

Rayne stood in front of the full length mirror in the bedroom.  She wore a ripped up black denim skirt, black stockings, a leopard print top with her signature leather jacket and boots.  Jo had always given her shit for liking Journey, saying that they were “corporate rock” whatever the hell that meant. And she knew she might look a bit out of place but she didn’t care.  With a few tweaks to her hair and makeup Rayne was ready to head over to LA for the night.

When she got to the Forum, Rayne made her way through the sea of people tailgating. She always loved the atmosphere of the tailgate, the energy was always buzzing with excitement of fans before they saw a band they loved.  Rayne headed to a bar down the street to grab a quick drink before show time. Of course since a show was in town was bar was booming.  Rayne made her way to the bar sliding in to order a whisky neat.  Once she paid for her drink she found a vacant space against a pillar.  It was at that moment that she saw Doc sitting in a booth with a guy Rayne did not recognize.  Doc locked eyes with her and waved her over.

“Hey Rayne, didn’t expect seeing you here.”  Doc smiled up at her.  As soon as she approached the table she could feel the other man's eyes on her.

“Yeah, I am going to the Journey show tonight and figured I’d grab a drink beforehand.” She replied looking over to the man in the booth, he was awfully handsome.  Rayne extended her hand to him.  “Hi by the way, I’m Rayne.”

The man took her hand and flashed a million dollar smile.  “I’m Jon, nice to meet you Rayne.”

“Take a seat Rayne.”  Doc offered.

“Oh I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not, please sit.”  Doc encouraged and Rayne took a seat across from Doc and next to Jon.  “Jon’s a new signing of mine and his band is about to do some press and shows over in Japan so we made a stop in LA, he’s from the east coast.  Which you’re from also right Rayne?”

“Yeah I’m from Jersey.”

“No shit so am I.”  Jon smiled turning in the booth to face her.

“Really? Huh, small world.”  Rayne chuckled.  She was about to ask him where in New Jersey he grew up but Doc quickly spoke up.

“Is Tommy with you?”  Doc interjected. Snapping Rayne out of whatever was going on with her and Jon.

“No.” Rayne sighed.  “He’s still no where to be found.  I kinda thought you might have been covering for him.”

“I’m not, I honestly have no idea.”  Doc said honestly.  Rayne shook her head, how could Doc not even know where he was?  Rayne simply finished her glass of whisky before pushing it to the center of the table.

“Well it was good seeing you, I’m going to head back I want to catch Bryan Adams, he’s opening and I’ve heard good things.”  Rayne smiled pushing herself out of the booth.  “It was nice meeting you Jon, good luck with everything.”

“Bye.” Jon said softly watching as Rayne made her way through the crowd of people and out of the bar.

What she had heard was true Bryan Adams.  He definitely wasn’t as hard rocking as what Rayne usually liked but his lyrics were amazing and his energy as a solo artist was great.  You could tell that he was still learning about himself on stage and commanding a large crowd, but he had incredible potential. Once he had left the stage Rayne walked up to the concession stands to grab a beer, not her favorite but it would do.  When she returned to her aisle seat the lights went down and the crowd erupted.

When Journey came on she was transfixed, they were just absolutely incredible musicians and Steve Perry’s voice soared throughout the arena.

Early on in the set the keyboard notes of one of Rayne’s favorite songs off the new record started emitting an excited squeal from her.

It's been so long Since I've seen her face You say she's doing fine

Rayne sang along to the words loving hearing the crowd sing the words back to the band. She hoped one day that would be what Motley Crue received every night on stage.  They had been the opener for the tour with Ozzy and the crowds knew some of their more popular songs but she knew one day they’d be the headliner and the crowd would drown them out during every song.

I still recall A sad cafe How it hurt so bad to see her cry I didn't want to say good-bye

There was something about the way Steve sung the lyrics that night, it went straight to her heart.  She felt the tears start to sting, it all just hit too close to home.

Send her my love, memories remain Send her my love, roses never fade Send her my love

The same hotel, the same old room I'm on the road again She needed so much more Than I could give

Rayne almost jumped out of her skin when she felt someone grab her hand.  She turned ready to punch whoever it was that thought they could grab her. But was shocked as hell to see Tommy standing sheepishly next to her.

We knew our love could not pretend Broken hearts can always mend

Half of her was elated, and the other half was seething.  Did he seriously think he could just show back up and be affectionate?  Rayne unlaced their fingers and watched as Tommy silently mouthed, “I’m sorry.”  She didn’t respond, simply turned her attention to the stage and the electrifying band on it.

The last song before the encore that night was Faithfully, and honestly the lyrics and song were completely too much for Rayne, halfway through the song she pushed past Tommy and began climbing the stairs up to the concourse.  Rayne kept her head down, her hands furiously wiping tears away from her cheeks.

“Rayne! Rayne wait!”  She nearly stilled at the sound of Tommy’s voice but kept moving through the arena.  She was forced to stop walking when Tommy grabbed her hand and spun her towards him.  “Rayne, hear me out.”

“What’s there to hear Tommy?”  Rayne raised her voice.  “You bail on me for a week and then you just fucking show up here and act like everything is okay?”

Slipping her hand out of his grasp Rayne turned on her heel and walked towards one of the arena doors.  The crisp December air was a welcome feeling against her hot skin.  “Rayne!  I’m not trying to act like everything is okay.  Just, talk to me!”

“I’m going home.”  Rayne said as she reached her car.  “So if you want to talk, that’s where I’ll be.  If you can even remember how to get there.”

Tommy opened the passenger side door and slipped into the seat causing Rayne to lean down inside the car looking at him in shock, “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m going home with you.”  Tommy said simply.  Rayne sighed getting behind the wheel.

“I’m not saying a word until we get home.  You just fucked with me seeing a band I really love.”  Rayne said pointedly at Tommy turning the key in the ignition and cranking up the volume on her cassette player.  Malibu wasn’t extremely close to Los Angeles and Rayne was seething behind the wheel.  Eventually they pulled into the driveway and Rayne turned the car off and silently walked into her home with Tommy falling behind her.  Rayne put her bag down on the kitchen counter and turned to Tommy, “You wanted to talk.  So talk.”

“Rayne, I’m sorry.  I completely reacted the wrong way.  I should never have left that day, and I should’ve come back before tonight. I just, I didn’t know what to do, or what to say.”  Tommy admitted.  “So I’ll start with the beginning.”

Rayne crossed her arms and was all ears.

“When you told me about the baby, everything in my brain started to misfire.  It was a lot to take in, I was excited to think we were pregnant, and then to hear that we lost the baby was heartbreaking. And then it was earth shattering to hear that you thought you had to bear the grief on your own to not hurt me.”  Tommy’s words were coming out rapid fire, Rayne knew he was nervous.  “I could only imagine what you were going through.  And it made complete sense why you pulled away. But on top of all of that, I was still hurt.”

“You shouted at me Tommy.”  Rayne said sadly.  “You have never raised your voice to me the entire time we’ve been together.”

“I regret that as much as disappearing.  I never should have done that, there’s no excuse for that.  No matter how angry or hurt I was feeling, I should never have raised my voice.  That’s not me.”

Rayne heavily sighed and looked down to the floor.  “Where do we go from here?”

“We talk about how we’re feeling.  What happened is no small thing baby.  And this is the first time either of us have been able to talk about it with a cool head.”

“You hurt me Tommy.  Do you remember what you said to me before you walked out?”  Rayne couldn’t even look at him.

“I-I’m sorry I don’t.”  Tommy said sadly.

“You said ‘it looks like you failed at that too,’ and you know that cuts me to the bone. When we talked about a family I told you my biggest fear would be that I would fail them.  And I was already beating myself up about doing exactly that.  So for you to say that to me…” Rayne began to get choked up.  “It broke my heart Tommy.”

“Baby, I’m so sorry.  I shouldn’t have said that.  Even in anger that is below the belt.”  Tommy apologized.  “How can we fix this?  I know we can get through this as long as we’re together.”

Rayne looked up at Tommy with tears in her eyes, “Just get over here and hold me.”

Tommy let out a sigh he didn’t know he had been holding and rushed toward Rayne and tightly wrapped his arms around her, lifting her ever so slightly off the ground.  Rayne wrapped her hands around Tommy’s neck burying her face in his hair, breathing in his scent. Tommy whispered in her ear, “I missed you so much baby.  I love you.  I love you so much.”

Smiling softly Rayne began to cry.  It felt so good simply to have his arms wrapped around her.  It was the first time since the accident that they had really touched or showed any physical affection to the other. “I’m so sorry Tommy.”

“What? Baby you have nothing to be sorry for.”  Tommy pulled his head back in order to look at Rayne.  Rayne just nodded her head.

“I do, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.  I should have.  And I’m so sorry I was caught up with the craziness of life and completely unaware of the fact that I was pregnant.  If I’d have know I’d have been more cautious.”  

“No, baby. No.  Do not apologize for any of that.  You had no idea, and I think for anyone, not actively trying, that is probably normal to not know.  Maybe we just have to trust in that everything does happen for a reason.” Tommy said softly, gently caressing Rayne’s face.  “You are perfect, and you’re going to be a great mom, when the time is right. And I’m here for you Rayne, truly, I am here.”

Smiling softly at his words Rayne leaned in a kissed his lips tentatively. "I've been an emotional wreck for weeks Tommy.  Just because you and I are alright it doesn't change that fact."

"I'm here for you baby, no matter what.  My only ask is don't hide what you're going through from me.  If you're hit with a wave of sadness I want you to come to me for support okay?"  Rayne nodded her head.  "I'll always be here to support you baby."

Rayne knew he was telling the truth.  She knew he would support her through not only the emotions that may come up but also through life in general.  Happy that they put that on the table Rayne asked another question that had been bugging her all week.  “Where exactly did you go anyway?”

“I crashed at Mick’s house much to his dismay.”  Tommy gave a light chuckle.

“Oh I’m sure he absolutely loved that.”

“I got a lot of shit thrown at me all week.”  Tommy nodded.  “So am I forgiven?”

“Am I forgiven?”  Rayne asked for herself.

“There’s nothing to forgive baby.”  Tommy kissed her.

“Ditto.” Rayne smiled.  “Can we go to bed now?  I’m exhausted.”

Holding his hand out for her to take Rayne gladly did and allowed Tommy to lead her upstairs to bed.  Tommy took off his shirt as Rayne walked into the bathroom to take her makeup off and wash her face. Rayne looked at herself in the mirror to see she looked like a hot mess, mascara stains had run down her cheeks from her tears.  “Jeeze Tommy, you could’ve told me I looked insane.”

“You don’t look insane, you look beautiful.”  Tommy spoke from the bedroom.  Rayne popped her head out of the bathroom to look at him.

“I love you babe, but I look like a crazy person.”  Rayne chuckled taking a makeup wipe to her face and walking back into the bathroom.  After washing her face, moisturizing her skin and pulling her hair up in a pony tail Rayne padded into the bedroom.  She opened one of her drawers and grabbed an oversized t-shirt. She walked over to the bed, throwing the t-shirt on the mattress and began to undress.  Of course Tommy rolled over on his side to admire his girlfriend.

“You are truly the most beautiful woman in the world.”  Tommy said softly just before Rayne took off her bra, she playfully threw it at him.  Grabbing it from the air Tommy smiled, “What?  It’s true!”

Slipping her t-shirt over her head Rayne placed her clothes in the laundry basket. When she walked back to the bed Tommy threw the comforter and sheets down for Rayne to slip under. Rayne turned off the light next to the bed and slipped under the sheets, immediately Tommy wrapped his arms around Rayne pulling her close.  He was home, not only in his physical home, Rayne was also his home.  “It’s good to be home.”

“It’s good to have you home.  Goodnight Tommy.”  Rayne gave Tommy’s arm a squeeze.

“Goodnight baby.”

The next day Rayne woke up to the smell of something cooking in the kitchen. She rolled over to wake Tommy up only to be greeted with cold sheets.  She sat up in bed rubbing the sleep from her eyes before pushing the covers off her to go downstairs.  What she saw in the kitchen shocked her.  Tommy was standing over the stove cooking, actually cooking.  "What are you making?"

Startled Tommy turned to look at Rayne.  "Well you're always feeding me so I wanted to treat you to some french toast."

"Tommy it smells amazing."  Rayne said appreciatively taking a deep breath in.  "Since when do you cook?"

"I mean, I wouldn't consider following the receipe anything special but my mom taught me a few things in the kitchen."  He grinned shyly.  "And besides I know you're going to be cooking a lot today, which I'll also gladly help with.  But I figured one thing you didn't have to worry about would be helpful. Now sit down."

Rayne smiled at the gentle command and took a seat at the kitchen table watching Tommy work his magic.  The food did really smell amazing and she hadn't eaten french toast in forever.  "So everything is still going as planned for tonight and tomorrow?"

"Yeah. My mom is so excited to see you and the house and have your cooking."  Tommy said enthusiastically while bringing a plate over setting it in front of Rayne.  He then quickly returned back with a cup of coffee.

"Well I'm glad I did my shopping this week.  I didn't know what would be happening, what with everything that was happening."  Rayne teased Tommy, he took it well.  "Anyway I hope you like seafood because there's going to be lots of it tonight."

Rayne's grandmother had passed down many Italian traditions to her, one of the ones the older woman was most passionate about was the Christmas Eve meal of the seven fishes.  She had never really had the opportunity to do it on her own because it was usually just her and Jo, and Jo wasn't much a fan of seafood.

"I love me some seafood and anything that you cook.  You know my mother is going to be flying around trying to help you right?"

“And I will gladly welcome the help.”  Rayne took a sip of her coffee.  “Also I’m just saying, if your cooking for other things is as good as your French toast, I’m gonna have to go to have to work harder at kickboxing class. Because food this good will make me fat.”

Tommy laughed and took a bite of French toast for himself.  “I’m glad you like it.  You always cook so much for me, I figured it was only right to return the favor.”

Rayne simply tapped her index finger against her pursed lips and Tommy happily pushed his chair back and leaned over the table to kiss Rayne’s lips.  She tasted like maple syrup and cinnamon she was sugar and spice incarnate.  When Tommy pulled away from her lips he couldn’t help how his heart soared. She was his person, she was his forever.  He stood up straight and started to make his way up the stairs.  Rayne called after him playfully, “Tommy where are you going?”

“Just, stay. Right there.”  Tommy said enthusiastically as he disappeared into their bedroom.  Shrugging her shoulders Rayne took one last bite of French toast before pushing the dish away from her and grabbing a strawberry to nibble on.  Rayne heard him shuffling around before he rushed back down the steps until he stood tall in front of Rayne.

“Tommy, what are y…” she couldn’t even finish her sentence Tommy was down on one knee.

“Rayne Sykes, I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my whole life.  You make me so happy, and if you’ll allow me I’ll spend my entire life trying to make you as happy as you make me. Everything good that has happened to me and all the good that is yet to come, it all means nothing unless you are right next to me to experience for it.  I wanted to propose at the perfect moment, I wanted everything to be perfect.  But what I was blind to was that every moment with you is perfection.”  Tommy spoke with a heartfelt passion and pulled out a red velvet box opening it to reveal a sparkling diamond ring.  Rayne gasped when she saw it.  “Rayne Sykes, will you marry me?”

Rayne was genuinely shocked.  She knew Tommy had wanted to propose to her the night of the accident, but she didn’t expect him to choose this moment to do it.  His words were beautiful and from the heart, everything Tommy did was from the heart.  She didn’t know what she did to deserve the man kneeling in front of her but she would be happy to be his forever, and she would be happy to have him forever. Rayne began to frantically nod her head smiling wide before she happily replied, “Yes.”

Tommy took the ring out of the box and slipped it onto Rayne’s ring finger before standing up smiling down at her.  Rayne stood up and onto her tippy toes to bring her lips to Tommy’s. Pulling away she looked down at the sparkling ring on her finger which the diamond itself was large but the band was also completely adorned with smaller diamonds.  It was just completely stunning.  “Do you like it?”

“Tommy it’s beautiful.”  Rayne exclaimed breathlessly before meeting his gaze and giggling.  “Holy shit, did we just get engaged?”

“We’re engaged baby.”  Tommy smiled leaning in to kiss Rayne once more.

It was not how Rayne expected the day to begin, but it was a welcomed surprise.  She knew she had to shower and get ready for the day and Tommy’s family but right now she wanted to stay in this little bubble that was just the two of them as long as she possibly could.

Take me to the next chapter....

---

Did I make up for making you all suffer the last few chapters?  It’s not the end of angst in this story but for now we’ll live in the bubble of happiness.  Did you listen to the songs while reading?  What did you think?  Any favorite parts of this chapter?  Anything you’d like to see moving forward?  Let me know!

[honeypiehotchner]

Deception -- part eight

You guys are crazy. But thank you for all the love on this story. I’m going on another mini-vacation this weekend, so this is the last update for a bit. Love you guys xx.

Also weird note, but I have a love-hate relationship with John’s character in season four, but that hair? 10/10 he looks so hot

I’m incredibly glad I didn’t become an actual practicing therapist. I’m awful at it.

           I thought I was doing good, but that was before my one and only patient woke me up, on my patio, with a concerned look on his face.

           “John?” I ask, taking in a deep breath as I realize I’m outside. And that I fell asleep. Which also means I must’ve slept right past his appointment time. “Oh, God.”

           “Don’t worry about it,” he murmurs. “But you’re running a fever, so let’s get you inside.”

           I try standing on my own, my body protesting, causing me to fall into John’s arms – do not think about how strong he must be. “I’m so sorry.” I glance down and see broken shards of my mug swept up into a neat pile. “That was my favorite mug,” I murmur sadly.

           “Hey, I said it’s okay,” he replies softly, sliding the glass door open. “All I’m worried about is getting you inside. And I’ll get you another mug.”

           I nod without really thinking about it or anything for that matter, letting him guide me to my couch where he lays me down, his hand resting on my forehead.

           He frowns. “You’ve definitely got a fever.” He looks around, grabbing a blanket and covering me – and if I wasn’t so sleep deprived, I’d be fighting him and telling him to leave my house this instant.

           “I’m fine,” I mutter, waving him away, the blanket falling. “You don’t need to take care of me.”

           He ignores me, silently covering me up once more. “Do you have a thermometer?”

           “John, you don’t need to—”

           He begins walking away before I can even finish my sentence, rummaging around in the kitchen. “Found it,” I hear him closing a drawer and walking back over to me on the couch. “Come on.”

           I glare at him.

           “I’m a doctor,” he reminds me. And then a little firmer, more serious, he says, “Open.”

           I let him stick the thermometer in my mouth, still pouting like a child, but he walks away again, not caring and not paying my toddler-like reaction any attention.

           I pull the thermometer out of my mouth after a moment, looking down. “It says 37 degrees even, John, I’m fine—”

           “Put it back in your mouth,” he instructs. “It didn’t finish taking your temperature yet.”

           I sigh heavily, doing as I’m told. I listen as he sets a full kettle on the stove and walks back over, sitting on the chair beside the couch. I open my mouth to say something, but I quickly shut it when he shakes his head.

           The thermometer doesn’t beep for another few moments, signaling its finished. John stands and takes it from my mouth without giving me a chance to look, which only furthers my worry when he frowns at the reading.

           “What?”

           “38.1 degrees,” he shakes his head. “That’s a proper fever.”

           “It’s fine,” I wave him away, trying to sit up on the couch, but it does cause my head to spin. “It’s probably just a little virus, I’ll live.”

           “No, lie back down,” he practically pushes me back onto the couch. “You’re going to get some rest and I’m going to go get some chicken soup, but if I come back and you’re not sleeping…”

           “Yeah, yeah,” I groan, pulling the blanket up under my chin. “What if I lock the door?”

           “I’ll kick the door in.”

           I open my eyes to glare at him. “You wouldn’t.”

           “Would you like to find out?”

           “…no.”

           “Okay,” he nods. “I’m going to the store, but I’ll be right back.”

           “Fine.”

           I close my eyes then, and I don’t really remember hearing him leave, but the next time I open my eyes, he’s back and kneeling in front of me.

           “Hey,” he smiles. “I made chicken soup.”

           I have no idea why, but my response is, “You didn’t make it.”

           He laughs – at least it made him laugh – and says, “No, I didn’t, but it’s ready. You need to eat some so you can take some aspirin.”

           I close my eyes again, shaking my head. “I’m sleeping.”

           “I know you are,” he replies softly. “But I need you to wake up for just a few minutes. You can sleep again once you’ve finished eating.”

           I groan, eventually doing as I’m told, which is sitting up enough so I can eat some chicken soup and take some aspirin. John tried to offer feeding me since I’m still not totally here, but I’m here enough to feed myself. And conscious enough to know how embarrassing that’d be if he had to feed me chicken soup. This is embarrassing enough as is, but I can’t exactly tell him to leave with how stubborn he is.

           He has a bowl, too, sitting on the opposite end of the couch and carefully watching me. It’s a bit annoying, if I’m being honest. He’s like a mother hen. I know he’s a doctor, but this is a bit ridiculous, isn’t it?

           I curl back up as soon as I’m finished, shoving the bowl away from me on the tray. I can feel John still watching me as I lie down, wrapping the blanket tightly around my shoulders.

           And I’m asleep within minutes.

~~~

The next time I wake, it’s because John is putting another blanket over me. He sees my eyes opening and he shushes me, shaking his head.

           “I’ve just got to go back to work for a few hours, but I’ll be back later to check on you.”

           “You…you don’t need to do that,” I mumble.

           “I know. I want to,” he reminds me.

           “Fine,” I breathe, my eyes staying closed because they can’t be bothered to open at the moment. “Key.”

           “What?”

           “There’s a spare key…under the—the flower pot. So you can lock the door.”

           “Oh, right, yeah.” I hear his footsteps start toward the door. “Get some rest.”

           “That’s the plan.”

           The last thing I hear is his laughter before he leaves, the melodic sound making me wonder if this has all been one insane fever dream.

~~~

“John, I am so, so sorry.”

           “You’re feeling better, then,” he smiles, walking in after realizing I’m holding the door open for him. He’s got two bags in his hands, too. What the hell did he buy now? “Your fever’s gone down?”

           “John, you don’t need to take care of me.”

           He sets the bags down on the chair in the living room, turning back to give me a weird look. “And I thought I told you, it’s okay. I want to.”

           “Isn’t it weird?” I ask, wrapping my arms around me. “I mean, I’m your therapist. You’re not supposed to take care of your therapist when she’s sick.”

           “I know that,” he sighs. “But when I – When you weren’t answering your doorbell, and then I walked around and saw you passed out in the chair, the mug broken on the ground, I got scared.” He shrugs. “You weren’t responding for a few moments, I thought I was going to have to call an ambulance.”

           “Oh,” I mumble. I didn’t know it was that bad.

           “I wanted to take care of you today because it…” He pauses, shrugging again. “Well, it’s obvious you don’t have anyone else to. And I wasn’t going to just leave you passed out on the patio.”

           “But still,” I shake my head in disbelief – at what? At how sweet, kind, generous, giving, selfless he is? “You could’ve just as easily called an ambulance and had the hospital doctors look after me instead of you. You’ve spent your day here, taking care of me, I—” I shake my head. “It’s probably the nicest thing I’ve ever had anyone do for me. So thank you.”

           “Eh, hospitals are rubbish,” he chuckles, but I know he doesn’t really mean that. “And you’re welcome.” He pauses again, this time for a longer moment, just staring at me, and then he asks, “So, do you…have someone?”

           “Do I have someone what?”

           “To take care of you, I mean.”

           What an odd way to ask a woman if she’s single. “No, I don’t,” I laugh awkwardly. “And judging by the fact that you took care of me all day, I’m assuming you don’t either.”

           “No,” he shakes his head, suddenly bashful, looking down and examining his shoes before looking back at me. “No, I don’t.”

           I nod slowly, wondering if this conversation – this entire day, really – could be anymore awkward than it is right now.

           “So, you’ve been shopping.”

           “Right,” he blurts, remembering. He picks up one of the bags and hands it to me.

           Hesitantly, I take it from him, raising an eyebrow at how heavy it is. “What is it?”

           “Open it.”

           I do, pulling out…a mug. A beautiful mug. It’s marbled, in a sense. Blue, green, and hints of gold sprinkled about it. And in white lettering on the front it says “relax” in a cursive font. I smile softly, looking to him with my heart feeling like it’s going to beat out of my chest.

           “I love it.”

           He smiles then, too, almost in relief.

           “What’s the other bag?” I ask, not meaning to pressure him, but I am curious.

           He hands it to me without hesitation, explaining himself. “It’s just some more tea, and some honey. I think you do just have a viral infection – there’s been one going around for a few weeks. But some tea and honey should help with the sore throat and overall gross feeling. And of course, taking aspiring to keep the fever under control.”

           I shake my head, laughter bubbling out of my chest at the contents of the bag. “What would I do without you, doctor?”

           “Pass out on the patio?” He offers, obviously teasing me, to which I gasp.

           “That’s rude of you to bring it up. It was an honest mistake.”

           “What, passing out?”

           “Drinking tea on the patio,” I clarify. “I should’ve known I’d fall asleep. I stayed up all last night.”

           “What? Why?”

           “Calm down, doctor,” I chuckle, placing both bags back on the couch. “I just couldn’t sleep, that’s all. It’s taken me a while to get used to this place again.”

           I realize as soon as I’ve said it that I’ve said too much.

           Dr. Jane Stewart doesn’t have a big back story because she didn’t need one. I was supposed to be a therapist and only a therapist, meaning, I would never really bring up my personal life at all if possible. Meaning, I wouldn’t need a personal life to talk about.

           “Oh, have you just moved?”

           Good God, I’m an idiot. It’s the infection. Or maybe the aspirin. “Yes, actually,” I chuckle. “You’re my first client in this new home. And I guess you could say I’m doing remarkably well.”

           John takes the slight change of subject in stride. “Yes, I think you are,” he replies, but his tone causes me to look at him and really look at him this time because…he’s being serious. “Well, I won’t keep you standing around any longer. I’m glad you’re feeling better and all.” He starts migrating toward the door, his silent cue that he’s wanting to leave.

           Or maybe he thinks I want him to leave. In which case, he’s incredibly dull. I don’t want him to leave at all. But I can’t ask him to stay. That would be wrong of me and this is already wrong enough, him taking care of me all day.

           So, I let him leave. I thank him once more for all he’s done, and I shut the door after him as he walks out.

           I lean my head back against the door. I just know Mycroft is going to bring this up in our meeting tomorrow.

[honestsycrets]

Let It Snow

↳ modern au

Author’s Notes | written for @michaeliskindahot. Done for dangerousvikings and ivaraddicts’ Christmas challenge.

❛ pairing | hvitserk/reader

❛ word count |  3172

❛ genre | fluff, smut

❛ summary | every year, reader goes with her best friend hvitserk to pose as his girlfriend at his mother’s yul events a few hours away. this year, a yu lstorm forces them to stop at a chilly hotel. with one bed. great.

❛ warnings | smut

This isn’t the first time you played Aslaug Sigurdssdottir.

For your best friend Hvitserk, bringing home a good girl has always been one of his top priorities. It wasn’t the bimbos that Mother wanted… with big tits spilling out of their three sizes too small cups or tiny skirts of which Hvitserk would yank up to take a peek at cheeks covered in no way by stringy thongs.

No, mother wanted you.

The proud owner of a law firm and pencil skirts that were framed so tight that Hvitserk couldn’t get a peep if he tried. It wasn’t just that you were spry and now raking in the dough, either. It was the charm and grace that floated off your shoulders like the Valkyries his mother told him about as a child.

The same holly happy silver bells bullshit blasted your bluetooth system, leaving your ears ringing, eyes blinded by a slurry of snowy white in front of your eyes. The hotel was still a good two hours away. In this strong, frosty storm though… it wasn’t happening.

“We’re stopping.” You tell your cheeky little friend.

“Yeah... yeah, I got it.” Hvitserk nearly turns his eyes from the icy chalked roads to look at you, so you click your tongue at him, making him focus on what he was doing. Without hesitation, he agrees to find the hotel that you book on your phone. 

Twenty minutes later, he’s rushing in the frosty snow to get the bags out of the car for the night. His vans slip and slide across the icy pavement toward the hotel room that sat on the patio.

“What are you smiling so much for?” You glance over your shoulder to your friend. Hvitserk skids across the sidewalk with that dopey, weak smile on his full cheeks. With a whirl of the lock, the door opens. Hvitserk trots in first, throwing your suitcase to one side before he collapses onto one the bed.

“For the bed! Besides Mor’s gonna give me the look.”

The only fucking queen sized bed with a plain white comforter. It’s red lap skirt looks comfortable-- but you know it was a lie when you consider what you have packed in your suitcase.

“She’ll be okay, I’ll text her. She won’t give me the look.” Then you look to him. “They didn’t have a twin beds.” You can’t help a pout, locking the door then adding the separate rust covered chain lock higher up. You would have taken anything else other than what you ended up with. Hvitserk stretches, exposing his tummy underneath a cute red and white Yul sweater. An adorable Vikings riding a horse is splattered across a stripe.

“So what? We’ll just sleep together! We’ve done it before... like in high school, remember? Borg always liked to torture us with projects.” Hvitserk beams, pushing himself up after yanking his black joggers up his ass. The bed looks a whole lot tinier when he’s sitting on it like that. He flips off his shoes as you anxiously move to one of the fluffy pillows.

“Aren’t you supposed to offer me the bed alone as the big man?” You curl your index and middle finger almost mockingly. Not that you were exactly excited for this hotel either. All the ones that you would usually book were taken for the night.

“Nope!” Hvitserk chirps. “It’s fucking freezing in here. What kinda best friend are you?”

True, you think. It is unnecessarily cold. As you go to flip the heater on, it makes a gentle whirling as if starting to turn on. But no warmth comes from the space where it should blow out air. Only even colder air that leaves you cranking the knob one way-- then another. 

“Well, guess its gone to shit.” You say, glancing over your shoulder to your best friend.

“Lucky that I brought my Yul sweaters and lucky blanket then.” Hvitserk remarks. Hvitserk’s blanket is his favourite richly forest green on the outside-- and warm fuzzy white on the inside. You can’t even remember why he loved that thing so much, but since you bought him it a few years ago, he hadn’t let it go.

“Really, how many Yul sweaters do you own?” You roll your eyes. Make no mistake, he looked a hell of good in them. But it seemed ridiculous that he had so many!

“Probably twenty.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Yul is my favourite! You know that, babe.”

Too many but… maybe that’s what you loved about Hvitserk. He was never too afraid to be soft when he needed to be. You sigh as you unzip your suitcase and seek out… a slip amongst bath supplies. You certainly couldn’t go to bed in a pencil skirt. You take it, shuffling off awkwardly as it hiding it from his view. The carpet feels icy under your feet the whole way.

At least the water was warm because the prospect of facing Hvitserk nearly naked had you nervous. He had seen a lot of things on you in his life. Sure, booty shorts and v-necks-- but never a combination of the two. Slipping on the satin and lace slip you finally garner the courage to slip out, combing your hair into waves.

“(Y/N) are you almost done! I’m all cold here alo-” You step out of the bathroom and Hvitserk loses his words. In truth, he must have forgotten he was talking at all. Your hands leave your hair, throwing your old clothes into the dirty laundry bag you brought and placing your comb back where it went. You’re trying your best not to show off your ass to Hvitserk, laying on the bed on his forearms to no avail.

The satin slip glides across your thighs up over some sweet, lacy panties. He can just barely make out the contrast of your skin against the bare ass of the panties. In truth he swallows dryly, inching up. You tug the bottom of your slip sitting against the highest part of your thighs, slipping onto the bed beside him. Shamelessly his eyes follow you, settling on the lacy line of your gorgeous cleavage.

“Hvit, stop oogling!” You whisper, laying your head on a fluffy pillow at long last.

“Uhh…” He murmurs, dropping his eyes to his cock at attention beneath his joggers. It’s helpless-- he’s hard and there’s no helping that one. “You packed lingerie to come visit my mor?”

Instantly, you go on the offensive. Of course you didn’t pack it so Aslaug would see! Were you trying to pick up his mama? No!

“Yeah, you know when I packed that it wasn’t with the intention of you EVER seeing, Hvitserk.” You snap. “I like to dress up for me.” You pull the fluffy blankets of the bed over your cold shoulders, wiggling your nose. It’s truly nippy inside. Hvitserk pulls off his sweater and v-neck shirt underneath, chucking it in another direction. His toned chest beats with his hacksilver pendant. He snatches his blanket and returns under the sheets with you.

“Should have seen it earlier.” He grins toothily. “What are you talking about? Your tits are perfect, shit, you haven’t even had surgery!”

It’s a sore spot. He knows how nervous you are every time you get into a dress. Often sticking a chicken cutlet in your bra or throwing a blazer over your shoulders to pull away from the so deemed imbalance.

“They really aren’t.” You hide underneath your blanket. The fluffy comforter hides up to your nose-- but Hvitserk being Hvitserk, he tugs it away from your lovely body. He turns on his side, letting his fingers trace your jawline-- then move down your throat. You snatch his wrist short of gliding down your sternum and leading between your round breasts.

“You’re treating me like your bimbos.” You sneer. Of course you say it hatefully or… was it jealousy so? Hvitserk leans in, letting his long hair that he so usually yanks back into a bun, tickle your lips.

“No…” He husks so unlike the best friend that you’ve known for years. You’ve only overheard this hot tone in the bars right before you would say goodnight to him and go home. It was never aimed at you. “I want to show you how fucking sexy you look in that shit.”

Hvitserk snaps the hold on your wrists, pushing his knees on either side of your hips to pin you beneath him. Suddenly, its as if he’s as large as Bjorn hovering above you. Your sweet, slender Hvitserk swells with another, predatory air.

“Let me show you.” Hvitserk whispers against your lips, hooking his finger under a strap of your slip. “Please.”

You wish that you had the drive to tell him no. That of course he couldn’t because he was your best friend. Instead of that, you only feel the softness of the straps falling down your shoulders, your large breasts peeking in the cold air.

“Ohhh…” You gasp, breath sliding from your lips. “Hvit…”

He’s non-responsive. His willowy hands take up your breasts, cupping and mashing them together with a ginger massage. His tongue glides between your breasts in one long lick, catching your eyes in his sharply green ones.

God, you wish that you could tell him no.

“Look they’re perfect.” He points out, leading his mouth to one of your nubs. His lips cusp around the nipple, swirling his pink tongue along the pert tip. His ears perk to a light, ginger moan that slips out of your lips. Better than sweet candy canes or hot chocolate, by far. His other hand takes your nipple between his fingers, pinching it gently.

“You’re so fucking perfect, you know?” Then with a pop, he repeats the treatment onto the other side. Hvitserk lets himself relax on top of you. That very second you feel Hvitserk’s needy cock pressing down upon you-- and it strikes you just how soaked your panties have become in a matter of minutes.

“Are you wet?” Hvitserk glides between the valley of your breasts to lay a chaste kiss down. He abandons your chest, letting his fingers slip down to the stringy red panties that cover your hot pussy. He massages the mound only once, testing the waters.

His answer comes in a shuddering moan, unable to face the truth. Hvitserk, however, knows the truth already. Your panties are moist with your thick need, the sticky fluid waiting for his very attention. He’s always known how you felt-- just as you knew how he felt.

How many men had he approved of?

How many had he ran off at bars or begged you to get rid of?

So, so many.

“Hvit… wait.”

So he waits, looking up at you with the neediest of whines. He doesn’t really want to wait. He wants to dip between your legs and make love to you in the way only he knows how. Hvitserk tilts his head, cussing off to the side.

“Yeah…” He murmurs, his palm still massaging your engorged lips.

“I don’t have a condom, Hvit.”

For everything he packed, a condom wasn’t one of them. He seeks out possible answers. But in a snowstorm… it wasn’t like he was magically going to procure a condom. And he was pretty sure hotels didn’t have complementary get-some-pussy condoms either.

“Shit.” Hvitserk hangs his head. “Me neither.”

It looked like he wasn’t gonna get any tonight. But… that wasn’t it. It was more than some fucking pussy. It was your damn pussy that he might never get another shot at. He had a feeling that you would be too embarrassed to face him otherwise.

“It’s okay.” You breathe, catching him off balance. Your hand shocks him by gliding between your bodies, snaking into the waistband of his joggers to pull his cock to freedom. He gasps as you grasp the root of his dick, forcing him to settle between your legs more properly. His forearms rest around your head, propping himself up. “Buy me morning after later.”

Never did a fucking pill sound so damn good. Hvitserk nods eagerly and so you lead the head of his dick up against your warm hole. He doesn’t wait for an invitation once you push him forward. He bucks his hips forward, snatching himself in your sopping wet walls.

“Fucking shit!” Hvitserk fists the pillow, cringing. “Are you squeezing me on purpose?”

You shudder, focusing on how deeply he was and god-- how full of him you finally feel. It wasn’t by circumstance that you posed as his stupid girlfriend every year. This had to happen some time. Or… so you hoped.

“Nooo.” You buck your hips up. “Why?”

Redundant-- but you want to hear it off his lips.

“You’re soo-- soo tight. It’s so good.” He moans out. You squeeze him purposefully, causing him to buckle his hips forward. He punches the pillow by your head “Fuck you (Y/N)! I’ll fuck you up too!”

He snaps his hips back, pounding himself forward to make you take him yet again. His cock plunges at a brutal, delicious pace. It’s exactly what you always wanted him to do in the privacy of your own thoughts, rubbing your cunt and riding toys imagining that it was his veiny cock claiming you like a cheap whore.

“Shit! Yes, yes, yes!” Hvitserk shrills, finding your hips lifting to devour his prick with every thrust inside. Your very walls tug at his dick as if you don’t want to let him go-- and maybe that’s the allure. How desperately you take him, how beautifully your breasts bounce with his powerful thrusts. He lowers his head down beside yours, letting his nose  rub against your hair perfumed with festive vanilla shampoo, tinged in cinnamon.

“Hvit…” Your hand shifts to his handsome cheek, pulling him down to catch his lips messily. His honey coloured facial hair pricks at your lips and so the second time you kiss him, your lips glide more purposefully against his thin ones. A split second decision is one you’ll probably regret, but running your tongue over his, you take it anyway. “I love you.”

Mistaken or not, Hvitserk pulls up from your lips to gaze at you in his shock. His hips slowen in their pace. He snuffs out your worries by mashing his lips once again against your own, pumping himself far quicker than before. If it was a good thing or a I need to get off and run thing, you’re not sure. Hvitserk’s lips turn into your neck, biting your skin between smooth impassioned kisses.

“I’m going to cum soon.” He states, turning back up to your lips. “Do you want me to pull out?”

His pace is frantic, desperate to find something that felt good for you. He knows he’s found it when you shudder powerfully, squeezing his prick every time he touched that spot. You shudder a moan-- I don’t know, he hears. Smoothly, he hooks your legs at his slender hips, squeezing your ass.

“Pull out?” He gasps weakly, squeezing his eyebrows together to focus as to when he would cum. You shake your head, throwing your hands around his back to scratch at his back and keep him as close as you could. He almost pulls out when your legs squeeze him back in.

“No, in! Cum inside!”

“Fuck, yesss… take it!” He exhales forcefully, losing pace in the intone of your orgasmic shrieks around him. A wave of your muscles milking him to his completion finishes him off. His seed spills in ribbons pressed tight against your cervix. His pleasure is pleasantly outlined by your nails clawing against his back, leaving marks to be proud of with his brothers later.

Seconds later, Hvitserk awkwardly laughs, looking down to the welts he’s left on your neck. “Shit that was good but I’m fucking freezing! Sorry about your neck.”

“Sorry about your back.” You reply, loosening your legs around his hips. Hvitserk is still pitifully deep, lodging like a plug as he softened. He shoves himself off of you, globs of cum rolling down your creampied pussy.

Hvitserk glances down to your pussy before he would dip down. He forces your legs apart, sweeping up his seed with his long tongued flattened out as if licking a stupid ice cream pop. Your hand comes to your mouth, watching. After several apologetic licks, he suckles your pussy lips with a pop of his own lips. Then, he surfaces.

“Sorry about your pussy too. I fucking love pussy.” He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. Then pushing himself to the side of the bed, he tugs his blanket to cover your body affectionately. Your pussy feels swollen with all the love he just gave you. Then sliding under the same, he lays in bed with his hand behind his back. The cool air had been biting him all along-- but with sweat running down his back, he could ignore it up until now.

“Hvit?” You ask him. “What was that?”

‘That’ was his fault. He let his prick get ahead of himself again, shit. He looks over, pulling you in against his chest. There was nothing that he could say this time to get him out of this situation. He swallows dryly, looking to his watch. The clock struck 12:39.

“Uh,” He stutters. “A Yultime present? Wanna be my girl?”

You turn to look at him, almost scoffing at this half ass proposition. If not for the seriousness that plagues Hvitserk afterwards. Maybe he was a playful boy with games and food as his two loves in life. But you know Hvitserk enough to know when he really meant something.

“You serious?” You say. A bright smile slaps across your lips, resting your hand across his toned chest. Your finger traces the bumps of his hacksilver pendant when he nods.

“Yeah. You know my family already and everything. So yeah?” Hvitserk prods you on a little bit. Ivar would probably tease him when he found out how exactly you were coerced to date him. 

You paw the soft brown curls of his chest. “Say you love me.” 

He said it all the time. Love ya babe-- on tons of texts. But he hadn’t said it in sex! Hvitserk flushes, taking your hand to his lips to playfully kiss your knuckles. 

“You know I do.” He leans his head back, letting his other hand trace affectionate circles along your back. 

“Sayyyy it. How do I know you weren’t just being nice for some ass?” You tickle his hairs. 

“Hey! I wouldn’t do that!” He wouldn’t? You lift your eyebrows. “Err-- to you. I love you, shit. Happy?” He says and those the words might sound harsh, he says it with a playful smile. His cheeks feel raw with all the smiling he’s doing.

“Yes.” You say curtly. “I love you too. So of course you can be my man.” 

It was the best present Hvitserk got that year.

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[supernaturalfreewill]

Your name: submit What is this?

Words: 2,405 Demon!Dean x Reader Warnings: none reaaaally A/N: SURPRISE IT'S HEEEERE! This is the fourth part of a series! Read Part 1 2 and 3 first!

You looked down at the crumpled pile on the floor in front of you in disgust and casually lifted a boot. You dragged your knife along the sole, scraping the semi-congealed blood onto the rubber edge and planting your foot back firmly on the floor, smiling a little at the thought of how goddamn confusing that one bloody shoeprint was going to be for the cops.

No forced entry. Doors and windows all locked from the inside. No fingerprints.

Just a dead rapist and one bloody partial shoeprint.

You cast a final glance at the body in the middle of the floor.

He hadn’t even seen it coming. How could he? And you never got sick of the look on their faces when you finally showed yourself to them… after you had a little fun first of course.

Your targets were are a special kind of sick and you afforded them the same thought and mercy which they gave their victims; exactly none.

You materialized by the nearest wall and thrust the knife you had used for the dirty work into the ugly wood paneling.

The cops could have the murder weapon. It wouldn’t matter. You left no traces, except for that little bit of sulfur you didn’t bother to get rid of. It would be a red herring for them. By the time they’d even confirmed what is was you would have gone across the country and possibly circled back around again.

In the next instant you were outside in the alley, pulling your hood up to obscure yourself better as you moved through the shadows, carelessly splashing through puddles, rinsing the last bit of blood off your boots.

You headed for your newest haunt, though this would probably be your last night in the establishment. You needed to keep on the move. There were plenty more scumbags you needed to visit...

Somewhere in the back of your mind you acknowledged that you were leaving behind a trail of bodies, and sooner or later, someone would catch up to you by following that trail. You hadn’t yet decided who it was most likely to be, but you know it would be someone.

_ _ _ _ _ _

By the time Cas and Sam pulled up in front of the building, cops were already removing a body in a body bag from a garden level apartment.

The two exchanged a look with each other. Cas grabbed a couple badges from a box hidden underneath his seat and handed one to Sam.

The dark circles beneath Sam’s eyes had diminished somewhat in recent weeks, but they never disappeared completely. He was looking stronger though, and steadier, Cas was happy to note. He had a sense of purpose. They both did. They had something to keep them occupied, and something to strive for. And that was bringing you and Dean home.

”Okay,” Sam said to Cas as they strode across the lawn. “Just remember to—“

”Follow your, lead. Yes, Sam. I think I’ve got it by now.” Cas looked up toward the apartment building. It was nicely landscaped and many of the balconies above had flowering plants and patio sets arranged on them. “Nicer apartments than our last few cases,” the angel said.

Sam sighed heavily and his jaw clenched. “Well, rapists come from all backgrounds. They’re not just some sicko from the bad part of town,” he said. “Sometimes people refuse to believe that,” he added sadly. “Money is power, you know.”

Cas’s face clouded over. “You think that’s why he avoided a conviction?”

“I read his case file. I know it is. His lawyer, the best money could buy, got the DNA evidence thrown out.” Sam flagged a nearby detective down.

“Excuse me. We’re with the local FBI field office. You mind if we take a look at the scene?” Sam asked, flashing his badge. “We’ve been sitting on this guy for a while and—“

“Oh, yeah. Your co-worker is inside already. Knock yourselves out. They just took the body out but my partner can tell you how we found him.”

Sam and Cas exchanged a tense expression, thanked the detective, and started toward the sliding glass door. “Co-worker?” Just as Sam was swallowing the lump in his throat, the detective called out to get their attention. “Hey! Good luck! You’re gonna need it,” he scoffed, turning and heading toward his car.

Cas let out a doubtful sigh. “Great…”

Sam flashed a badge again to an officer as they neared the open patio door and he pointed them straight in to the living room. Rounding the doorframe their eyes immediately fell on none other than Crowley.

Sam’s jaw clenched and he was sure his gaze turned cold. But Crowley merely nodded and said, “Agents.”

Cas and Sam begrudgingly walked over and surveyed the scene. Once the detective inside had talked them through everything he left the three alone to go oversee further evidence collection.

”FBI? Really, Crowley? What kind of FBI agent dresses like a funeral home director?” Sam said, gesturing at the King of Hell’s all black suit and dark tie.

Crowley glanced down at his suit. “This is an Armani suit, Moose. Not that I would expect you to know, based on your Walmart ensemble.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Glad to see you’re feeling better,” Crowley added sarcastically.

Cas’s voice came out in a growl. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

”What do you think I’m doing? The same thing you two nimrods are. Following the bodies. Purgatory is filling up with monsters and hell is filling up with sinners. Our numbers haven’t been this good since the Black Plague struck Europe,” he finished with a snarky smile.

”If business is so good, then why are you bothering following up on whoever is doing it?” Sam pressed.

Crowley merely shifted his weight and didn’t respond, eyeing the bloody knife still sticking out of the wall.

Cas narrowed his eyes at the demon. “You felt it too,” he said.

Crowley looked over at Cas, and although he tried to scowl there was some doubt in his eyes that the angel could see. “Please, I’m a demon. I don’t feel anything.”

”The change in power. You felt it,” Cas said again.

Sam was glancing between the two of them, trying to read Crowley’s expression, and becoming very uncomfortable about all the officers moving in and out of the room. “Alright, we can’t talk about this here. Let’s go. We’ll go someplace we don’t have to worry about being overheard.”

A short time later, the three of them were sequestered in a dingy bar, and despite the fact that there was only Budweiser and Bud Light on tap, Crowley still asked for some fruity monstrosity of a cocktail, which Sam was pretty sure was going to get them thrown out or punched.

Sam was having a hard time looking at Crowley without feeling anger boil in his chest. He wanted to punch him square across the face, but at the moment he also wanted to know what Crowley thought about what Cas insisted he had felt.

“So, what do you think it is?” Sam asked.

Crowley took a deep drink out of his fruity cocktail through the straw, obviously prolonging it to maximize Sam and Cas’s annoyance. “What do you think it is?”

”Come on, Crowley. You’re lucky I didn’t try and gut you with an angel blade the minute we saw you,” Sam spat. “If you’d like to keep things that way, I suggest you help. This whole mess is your fault anyway!”

Crowley cocked his head at Sam and dabbed the corner of his mouth with a bar napkin. “Not very friendly, are we, Moose?”

Sam was about to retort but Cas interrupted and attempted to run interference. “It’s Y/N. Isn’t it?” he prodded.

The same discomfort they had seen back at the crime scene was evident on Crowley’s face. Cas took it as an affirmative response.

”Perhaps,” Crowley said. “I may have heard something about it.”

Suddenly, Cas snapped. He seized Crowley by the front of his suit and was inches from his face. “Listen, you little insect. We wouldn’t have lost Dean OR Y/N if it weren’t for you, so if you know something I suggest that you tell us, otherwise I will personally see to rearranging your face.” Cas’s voice came out through clenched teeth as a growl.

Sam noticed that the bartender just turned his back and walked away, apparently unconcerned, and Sam put a hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Cas—“

Just then, Sam’s cell phone rang. All three of them froze, and Sam dug into his pocket and pulled it out. Unlisted caller.

Sam glanced up at Cas, who immediately released Crowley. Crowley watched with interest as he straightened his suit coat and tie. After gulping down the tightness in his throat the best he could, Sam answered the call. “Hello?” He could hear the hesitation in his own voice.

“Sam, Sam, Sam,” came the voice from the other end.

”Dean.” Cas’s eyes widened and his gaze intensified. Crowley leaned in a little closer.

”How’s it hanging, little brother?”

Sam didn’t know how to respond. “Dean, we’ve been trying to get in touch with you since—“

“--since forever. Yeah, I know. But you know what they say, moss doesn’t grow on a rolling rock or some shit,” Dean replied carelessly. “Listen… I know you and Cas are on the trail of this killing machine and I think there’s something you should know about it.”

“What about it?” Sam asked, his heart hammering in his chest.

Dean slammed back a shot of tequila and cleared his throat. “It ain’t me,” he said.

Sam let a silence stretch for a moment. “…is that it?”

”Yeah, kind of.” Sam could almost see the shrug he guessed Dean was making and he felt anger welling up in his chest again.

”Dean, Y/N is missing, maybe dead, or God-only-knows what and all you can say is—“

Dean interrupted. “Yeah, Y/N is definitely not dead,” he said.

”What?” Sam retorted.

”Who the hell do you think is leaving the Hansel and Gretel trail? But, you know, bodies instead of bread crumbs,” he said. “I’m ahead of you on this thing.”

”What’s he saying?” Crowley whispered, but Sam just waved him off.

”We thought it was but--are you sure it’s Y/N?” Sam asked.

”Positive,” Dean said. “Absolutely positive. She’s gone totally scorched earth!” He almost sounded amused and it was grating Sam’s nerves.

Crowley suddenly grabbed the phone from Sam and put it on speakerphone. “Dean! Pleasure to hear from you as always. Never available when needed but buzzing around like a fly when--”

”Crowley! Well, I should have guessed… The gang is all there,” Dean said carelessly.

”Dean,” Cas said. His voice was cold and steely. “Where are you?”

Dean only laughed. “Ahead of you, chuckles, but I’m not about to tell you where. You three are in Indiana? Well there are three more bodies waiting for you down the line.”

“Dean, what exactly is—“ Cas wasn’t sure how to ask the question. “Have you seen Y/N?”

”No, but I’m close. Closer than you three amigos anyway.” They heard the clink of glassware in the background. Dean changed gears. “Crowley, there are some crazy rumors flying around about your domain. Shouldn’t you be reining those in?”

Sam and Cas’s eyes flew to Crowley’s face, immediately trying to read his reaction.

”I’m not sure what you’re referr—“ Crowley started, but Dean quickly interrupted.

”You know goddamn well what I’m referring to,” Dean countered. “A bunch of your minions are losing their shit because they think Y/N has gone nuclear. Some are saying she’s going to be taking over,” he scoffed. “Can you imagine that? Y/N taking over hell? I mean, I know she’s gone vigilante but Y/N? Taking over Hell? A little unbelievable. I’m sure even as she is she probably is full of annoying principles,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “Based on the earful she gave me last time I saw her…” Though he was talking about the fight you had had with him in the hotel during the rendezvous Crowley had arranged, a sudden surge pushed the image of you pale and dead on that slab into his mind unbidden and he winced and squinted his eyes shut, trying to force it out of mind.

But on the other end of the line Cas and Sam were still scrutinizing Crowley, who was no longer able to hide his concern and anxiety. He tried to distract from it. “Full of principles until some hunter wanders into her path, maybe,” Crowley said.

Dean was about to respond but Cas quickly hung up the call and Sam and the angel let their angry glares bore into the demon. “I knew that you knew something,” Cas growled.

Sam sidled up beside him and soon had an angel blade pressed against his ribs. “Now, Crowley. This is Y/N we are talking about. It’s not a game.”

It seemed that the ‘King of Hell’ didn’t have any options. “Alright, Moose. Put the pig sticker away, it’s making me itch,” he said. He sighed heavily as Sam backed off. Cas’s cobalt eyes were fixed on him.

“What Flutters here picked up on, his so-called ‘change in power’ was Y/N coming back to—well not back to life exactly, but into being in her new form,” Crowley said.

”As a demon,” Sam said. No surprise there.

”Bravo, Moose,” Crowley quipped. “But it’s more than that. It seems that for some unknown reason Y/N came back as—” he hesitated.

”As?” Cas urged, his deep voice thick with foreboding. The air felt electric around them. Cas knew they were on the edge of some new information that was going to change everything.

”A Knight of Hell,” Crowley said, averting his eyes to the floor. “So, you see we are in a bit of a predicament.”

Sam fell back heavily onto the nearest barstool, his face dumbstruck. Cas’s blue eyes were glaring at Crowley and his anger resurfaced.

”A Knight of Hell,” he repeated. “What have you done, Crowley?”

And this time the demon didn’t have a snappy comeback. All he could do was stare at his polished dress shoes and wait for what was to come.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Happer Part 12

Summary: After another fight with his girlfriend of five years, Sebastian needs to make a tough decision. But after the breakup, things get even messier

Chapter Warnings: Forgiveness and the future. 

Warnings: None

           The next day, Sebastian was spending time by the pool behind the family’s home. He was enjoying the relaxation and the sun. Tegan and Gemma had gone out to spend some time together. They went shopping in nearby Sydney, hoping to talk and bond again.

           Late in the afternoon, Sebastian had gotten up to walk around the pool and stretch after lazing around on the patio all day. He stood near the edge of the pool, just soaking in the sun.

           He didn’t hear the sliding door close and someone walking up to him. Completely caught off guard, Sebastian felt a heavy push and he fell into the pool.

           Getting over the shock, he resurfaced and looked to see who the culprit was.

           Gemma stood at the edge of the pool, with her hands on her hips, and a firm look on her face. “You’re forgiven, for now, Stan.” She informed him. “But if you hurt my sister again, you’re done.”

           Sebastian smiled slightly. “Alright. Fair enough. Thanks, Gem.” He replied gently.

           “Mhm…” She sighed and turned to go back inside. She passed Tegan who came out in a bathing suit. The two-piece showed off her abdomen making Sebastian weak in the knees. She truly was the epitome of a perfect, healthy, mother-to-be. She wore the look so well.

           “So, the push into the pool was my retribution?” He pulled off his now soaking wet t-shirt and tossed it onto the patio. He slipped off his sunglasses too.

           “You didn’t have your phone in your pocket did you?” She winced. “I told her not to.”

           “Nah, it’s on the chair.” He shook his head. “It’s fine, I’ll accept the punishment.” He chuckled. “Needed to cool off anyway.”

           Tegan laughed softly and went around to use the steps on the side of the pool instead of jumping.

           Sebastian swam over to the shallow end to meet her.

           She sighed contently as she stepped into the refreshing water. She paused to tie up her hair and submerged the rest of her body. “Just what I needed.”

           “You look gorgeous.” He murmured and held his arms out to her.

           She wrapped her arms around his neck and legs around his waist. “You look handsome. I love when you’re tanned like this.” Her fingers left a wet trail down his cheek and neck.

           “Can’t get this in the middle of a New York winter.” He agreed and slowly spun back and forth around in the water. His hands went to rest on her hips, his long fingers extended over the side of her baby bump. “Did you know babies are actually really good swimmers?”

           She tilted her head to the side. “Really?”

           “Yeah, I guess it’s some natural instinct.” He shrugged. “Pretty neat.”

           “You don’t think you’d be nervous?” Her long nails trailed lightly up and down his upper back.

           “Oh, trust me, I’m going to be super nervous about everything.” He admitted. “I’m fucking terrified.”

           “You and me both.” She rested her cheek on his shoulder. “My mom tried to say it was all natural and I’d figure it out in no time but I don’t know.” She mumbled. “I don’t know if I’ll be a good mother.”

           “Tegan, that’s nonsense, of course, you will.” He assured her. “I know you’ll be the best mother.”

           “You don’t know that for sure.” She argued and closed her eyes. “You can’t know that for sure.”

           Sebastian waded through the shallow end to go sit on the steps with her in his lap. “I know that you’re a caring and sensitive woman who loves very deeply. Parenthood can’t be easy. I mean it’s a living thing you need to nurture and take care of. I’m petrified that I’m going to do something wrong but I feel like if you care enough, that’s the best you can do. We can figure this out together.”

           Tegan chewed on the inside of her cheek and reached up to knot her fingers in his dark locks. The sunshine brought out the lovely, chocolate color hidden in his hair. “I’m scared about giving birth too.” She admitted quietly. “I don’t know if I’ll be strong enough. What if something goes wrong?” Her worried eyes met his.

           “We can’t worry about ‘what-ifs’.” He murmured. “If we do then it’ll only make us feel worse. I guess the most we can do is prepare for everything and make sure we’re ready. Breathing and other tips, right?” He tucked away a piece of stray hair that had escaped her top bun.

           “Yeah…”

           “It’ll be okay, Tee. Everything’s going well, you’re healthy and so is our son. Our little Charlie.” He kissed her forehead. “Let’s look forward to all the things we’ll get to do with him.”

           She smiled shakily, her eyes shining. “He’s going to say mama first.”

           “Oh, not if I have anything to say about that.” He teased. “It’s going to be dada.”

           “Hm…it’s cute how wrong you are sometimes.” She replied coyly.

           “Alright, well just wait and see, Cross.”

           “Okay, Stan.”

           For a brief moment, Sebastian thought about their different last names. It didn’t sound right to him. Tegan Stan. That sounded better.

==============

           While Tegan napped before dinner, Sebastian was spending time with her sisters. They sat outside on the patio as the sunset and the air began to cool down.

           “So uh…does Tegan have like a kind of ring she wears?” He brought up casually. “I know she has that sort of pinkish one.”

           Kirsty gasped. “Ohmigod, you’re going to propose!”

           “Whoa, hey, hey, hey, that’s not what I said.” But a small smile played across his face.

           “She likes round cut diamonds,” Gemma replied. “She was looking in the jeweler’s window at engagement rings today.” She reported helpfully. Although the young woman was still a little frosty towards Sebastian, she was being nicer than the night before.

           “She was?” Sebastian perked up. Maybe Tegan was in the same mindset as he was. Maybe things were ready to move to the next step even though it did seem a little sudden. “Did she point out any ones she really liked?”

           “Yeah, a few.” Her sister nodded.

           “Maybe we can go look tomorrow?” Phoebe asked hopefully. The idea of going with her sister’s boyfriend to pick out engagement rings sounded exciting.

           “It’s a little soon.” He shrugged. “I just…maybe it’ll be good to be engaged before the baby is born.”

           “Maybe you can get a ring and sit with it for a bit?” Kirsty suggested. “See how it feels and maybe if you get to a moment…it’ll feel right and you’ll ask.”

           “Okay…” He nodded and liked the sound of that. “D’you think she’d say yes?” He wondered.

           “You two need to be in the right space. But you do want to marry her, don’t you? Even if it’s later on?” Kirsty asked.

           “Yeah, of course. I want the baby to be raised in a family. And of course, I want to be with her for the rest of my life.”

           Phoebe and Kirsty cooed while Gemma made a gagging sound. “Oh, brother.”

           He chuckled. “I’m counting on you, Gem, will you help me?”

           “Yeah, I guess.”

============

           The next day, the girls and Sebastian made an excuse to Tegan and Shannon to go out.

           Gemma brought them to the jeweler where Tegan had been looking at the window displays. She pointed at the glass. “She liked that one, the one with the little diamonds around the bigger one. She said the circle cut was her favorite.”

           “Let’s go see it.” Sebastian opened the door for the three sisters and followed them inside. The air conditioning hit him, making his arms speckle with goosebumps. Although the excitement and apprehension attributed to it too.

           Someone from behind the glass cases came to help them. The older woman showed them a few rings that Tegan had expressed interest in. The sisters argued and bickered over which one was the best. Eventually, Sebastian made the final decision. Tegan wasn’t an especially flashy dresser and appreciated the little things in life. But Sebastian wanted people to know she was his. He wanted to put a ring on her finger that meant he was committed to her for the rest of their lives. It meant more than the size or look of the diamond. But he also wanted to spoil the mother of his child. So he chose a ring, had it placed in a black velvet box, and slipped it into his pocket.

           “Not a word to Tegan, right?” He asked the girls as they headed back to Kirsty’s car.

           “Of course.” Phoebe mimicked zipping her lips.

           “We want it to be a surprise.” Gemma agreed, softening up as she saw the care and thought he put into Tegan even if it was just a ring.

           Sebastian smiled. “Alright, let’s head back.”

Permanent Tags: @what-the-buckybarnes @captainmarmel

Masterpost 

My Masterlist

[metallikca]

Ich bin nur Menschlich (I'm only human)

(@shotgunintheimpala)

Prompt: Christina Perri's Human

For Esther's 150 Followers challenge that I'm rly late for and I'm sorry but life went hectic and its so hard for me to write when I'm stressed

A/N: Set in 2045, Dean/66 Sam/62, Cas has been human for 25 years and lives with Charlie.

Additional A/N: My fic is based off of the song, rather than containing the song, because I find it really hard to incorperate songs in my writing.

Wasser (Water)

Surrounding Castiel, simply water, it’s Bläue lost on his eyes, instead the light shone red through lids closed over irises made of sky.

Holding his breath, he swam, his strong body taking the strain with ease. He emerged from the water at the edge of the pool, cool marble chilling his hands as he used them to propel himself up out of the water.

“Cas!” he heard a feminine voice call from the kitchen, His roommate, Charlie, hung out of the window. The redheaded woman was holding a phone, presumably his, and waving it out the window at him.

“Answer it, Charlie.” He replied, grabbing a towel. “I’ll be a minute.” He threw the towel over his head and quickly dried off, leaving the damp towel around his shoulders as he walked in through the patio. He looked at Charlie expectantly, who held his emerald green Samsung to her ear. She held it out, “Claire.”, she spoke dully, and Cas wondered whether this would be good or bad.

He hadn’t heard from Claire in over 2 years, she had been living in Toronto with her boyfriend and busy hunting with the Canadian branch of the Winchester Letters Initiative, a re-creation of the years-gone “Men of Letters” (which now included many talented Female hunters.).

Originally based in Kansas, the Winchester brothers re-created the Men of Letters, making it a mix between what they were and what the Men of Letters wanted to be, and allowing any hunter of any gender to join the collective, and be permitted to utilize the Bunker’s library, holding key information on all monsters across America. Often times Hunters came into the Bunker when they got hurt or needed a place to lay low, the countless rooms in the space provided a “Hotel” of sorts for them.

He took the phone and pressed it to his ear, holding it with his shoulder as he strode into the kitchen. “Claire.” He grabbed a glass from the cabinet, “What’s going on?” he turned the handle on the sink and the faucet started to pour cool water into his glass, as he listened to Claire he turned the faucet off, slowly placing the glass on the counter without drinking any of the water. He leaned against the counter, in the pit of his stomach he felt a knot, and in his chest he felt pain. Even after years of being human, he never quite got used to this feeling.

“Dad.. I....I'm so sorry." Claire’s voice fell flat on Castiel’s ears.

Grief, like waves from the Ocean, pummeled against him as if he was the shore, he felt as if he might collapse, but some part of him was too stubborn to let his body fail. The phone went dead and he laid it quietly on the counter. Charlie stood in the doorway, a concerned look had appeared over her usually happy features,

“I’m so sorry, Cas.” Charlie spoke, walking forward into the room.

“I…” Cas breathed in deeply. “I knew it was coming.” he spoke as if it might make him feel better to say it, but it didn’t. There was no peace.

He walked out of the room and into his bedroom, locking the door behind him. He leaned against it, sliding down to the floor. He held his head in his hands and silent sobs began to make his body shake. After a long while he stood, crossing the room to his dresser, and pulled out a small box. He closed his eyes briefly, mentally preparing to face the reality Claire had told him. He opened the box softly, the light from the last of the evening sun illuminating shiny photographs, each one carefully labelled at the bottom. Cas picked up the first photo, with a black car, a man with green eyes was holding out a beer to the photographer, smiling widely. Surrounding them were trees in shades of red, orange and yellow. Underneath the photo a label read: Dean and Baby, October of 2020.

Castiel gently placed the photo on the table beside his bed, flicking on the lamp. He sat and continued looking through the photos, not noticing his crying until a drop landed on a photo of Him with Dean, Sam with his wife Eileen, and Charlie, each dressed as a different Scooby Doo character, titled The Scooby Gang, Halloween 2023.

Cas wiped the tear off of the photo, setting the box on the table he stood, trying not to cry. His best friends for years, the men who had saved him countless times, were gone.

‘Sam and Dean are dead.’

Thinking the words caused Cas’ emotions to overflow. He had seen Sam and Dean die over a dozen times and come back, but he knew, this time it was for real. He knew by how Claire said it, from the fact that she didn’t speak of any ideas to bring them back “this time”, or even tell him how they lost their lives. This time, was the last one, the last death for the brothers who had saved the world more times than anyone else could handle. He dropped to the floor and felt a rush of relief as his consciousness faded.

Hours later, Cas’ eyes open, looking around he notices that Charlie had gotten him onto his bed. Beside him on the table was a glass of water.

The box of photos had disappeared, he looked around systematically until he spotted the box sitting on the dresser, closed. He moved and felt something on his forehead, and removed what turned out to be a washcloth, damp with cool water.

He sat up only to feel a jarring pain in his head, and instantly grabbed the glass and the pill he noticed beside it, swallowing the pill followed with the water.

He moved the blanket off of his legs and swung them over the edge of the bed, wiggling his toes, encased in bumblebee socks peeking out from pajamas Charlie must have put on him while he was unconscious. He smiled gently, appreciating his roommate’s consideration and empathy.

He emerged to a semi-dark apartment, Charlie had gone to bed and night had long fallen over the city. The only light came from streetlights shining their light through the cracks in the curtains. He wandered to the window, pulling the curtain and gazing out into the artificially lit streets of Kansas City absently. The vast buildings made him feel safe, somehow, even knowing the monsters that lurked the streets.

He sighed as he turned from the window, and stood for a moment to let his eyes adjust as the curtain made the room dark, once more settling into place, shutting out the rest of the world. Shutting out the world that now seemed bleaker, knowing the Winchester Brothers were gone from it. He thought about how he would deal with this, he allowed his systematic Angel logic kick in. He thought that he might need counseling, that he might need help before their cremation. He knew they’d go like the hunters they were, burned on the pyre as generations of hunters had been. “The most honorable way to go,” Dean had once said, but now Cas wasn’t so sure he agreed. He wasn’t sure he could watch as his two brothers left this Earth for good, and he suddenly wondered where their souls went. Did they go to Hell, like so many Monsters undoubtedly promised? Did they go to Heaven, even though the Angels couldn’t care less about them? Did they get thrown in Purgatory, or the Void? His curiosity faded as quickly as it came, leaving behind a awfully large lump in his throat, which caused him to decide he needed an infusion.

He stepped into the kitchen, trailing his fingertips over the marble counter-tops. He loved this apartment, he loved the sleek kitchen appliances, the marble, the white carpet. He loved living with Charlie, too, because there would never be a day they’d be anything more than friends, and he decided a long time ago he didn’t want any more than friends. He may be human now, but his Angel instincts still made him wary of giving his heart to anyone, especially with past experiences in mind. He thought of Dean, and how they had such strong, undeniable Chemistry. An instant connection, he had thought it was love, and so had Dean. But it wasn’t. And even though Dean had moved on, Cas wasn’t sure exactly what held him back from loving anyone else. He knew he wasn’t in love with Dean, but nobody else could understand him, nobody else knew him the way Dean did and that made everyone else incapable of really being able to be with him.

He remembered back to Dean’s first marriage. A lovely young woman named Jo, if he remembered correctly, which of course he always did. That didn’t last long, but as far as he knew they stayed friends throughout the rest of Dean’s life. He wondered if the lady was still living, if she knew, if she cared. He moved on to Dean’s second marriage. She wasn’t a hunter, like Jo had been. She wasn’t even someone who was involved in this life at all. Her name was Sinead. She was brunette, built tall and broad-shouldered for a woman, soft personality, too. The total opposite of Jo. Her soft Irish accent made everyone in the room calm, and her music made everyone feel like they should be meditating. With Sinead, Dean had found love. Maybe not true love, maybe not his one-and-only, but certainly a wonderful love that made him happy until his dying day.

*screeeeeee* the tea kettle whistled, bringing Cas out of his reverie. He poured the hot water into his cup, watching the liquid pull the red colour out of the infusion, he breathed in, the scent of apple and cinnamon filled his nostrils and made him smile. He grabbed the honey jar out of the cabinet and smiled at the comb that was sitting at the bottom of the Jar. He poured honey in and stirred it, and put everything away before returning to the living room. He clicked on a lamp, and sat next to it on the recliner he usually occupied. Sipping his tea he thought of Sam, and how Sam had believed in him no matter what. Sam had always been like a brother, albeit a bit like an older brother, which Cas had plenty of with the Angels, but Sam was different. Sam understood, and when he didn’t, he listened. He always allowed Cas to finish his stories before adding feedback, unlike Dean who would cut in any time he had a thought. Sam was a genuinely good soul.

Cas thought of Eileen, Sam’s wife, and their three children, Dean, affectionately called “Dean 2.0” by the family, Bobby, and Ella. Dean 2.0 was the oldest, though luckily he wasn’t exactly like his Uncle. Instead he was more like his mother, caring and understanding but with a bite if he was crossed. He grew up to be a wonderful hunter, as did his siblings. Bobby and Ella, the younger two, were fraternal twins. Ella looked just like her mother, while Bobby looked more like Sam, built tall, they both exceeded their mother’s height as adults, much to her annoyance. “I’ve got a house full of moose!” she’d sign, smiling as she shook her head at her family. She could never really be annoyed with them, and Cas couldn’t honestly think of a family he knew of that loved each other more than them.

The clock chimed, signaling the end of another hour, and indeed, another day.

Cas debated whether he should try to sleep again, deciding to watch TV and finish his drink and then go back to bed, but before he knew it dawn’s light was shining in through the cracks in the curtains, illuminating the room in a soft glow. He sighed, running a hand through semi-long locks. He stood and stretched, empty mug hanging from one finger. He walked into the kitchen, cleaned his mug and got coffee on to brew for Charlie. He yawned, checked his watch and then proceeded to groan. 05:00. The worst time, in his opinion, to ever be awake. He didn’t have to work for hours.

‘maybe I should try to sleep,’ He thought absently to himself, yawning again. “I don’t think I can, at this point…” He spoke aloud, he had a habit or responding to himself. Stretching again, he tried to shake the stiffness out of his limbs.

He heard the coffee’s “Finished brewing” signal and returned to the kitchen, grabbing a mug and filling it with the hot brew. He heard a door open and Charlie emerged from her room, looking disheveled. She raised her nose and breathed in, a small smile forming on her face. “You made coffee?” She asked rhetorically, and Cas nodded. He held out a mug for her and she poured coffee into it, taking it from him to add the cream and sugar.

“Did you sleep?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. He knew he must look terrible.

“No.” He responded, furrowing his brow. “Well. I might have. I lost track of time at one point…” He added, thinking back to this morning, and wondering where the time had gone.

“When is the…thing?” He asked, not able to voice the burning he knew would happen.

“I…’m not sure.” Charlie responded, “Claire didn’t say anything to me. I figured she’d tell you.” She frowned, taking another sip.

“Alright.. Well I’ll call Eileen, I guess, and ask her that when I see how she is doing.” He took out his phone, but when the screen lit up to show time had only gone fifteen minutes, he set it back down. “Later. I’ll call her later. I’m sure her and the kids don’t want anyone bothering them before nine, at least.”

Charlie chuckled quietly, “You’re probably right.” She took another drink of her coffee and wandered out of the kitchen, Cas listened as her door shut, and Cas left to go to work.

The day dragged on, and Cas realized somewhere through it that he had somehow forgotten to call Eileen. He took a break and dialed her number, taking a deep breath as it rang.

"Dean Winchester," Cas squeezed his eyes closed, "Winchester Letters Initiative headquarters. What can I do for you?" The boy answered formally.

"Hey-uh-Dean." Cas muttered into the phone,

"Oh... hey Uncle Cas." The boy replied,

"Uh.. Dean... when is the.. the um.." Cas swallowed, trying to get his words out past the lump in his throat.

"The memorial?" Dean spoke softly, and Cas felt his eyes burn with tears.

"Y..ye..ah." Cas managed, feeling out of breath.

"It's in a week," Dean replied, "At the bunker. Everyone will be there."

Cas nodded to himself, taking another breath, "Alright. Charlie and I will be there. I have to get back to work now, tell the family Charlie and I love them."

"Will do. Love you, Uncle Cas."

Cas hung up, and slowly slid the phone into his pocket. The cold stone behind him was soothing, giving him a slight feeling of support.

~~~

The week went by, somehow fast and slow at the same time. Cas didn't think he could ever prepare himself.

Suddenly the day to leave was upon him, he packed enough for several days and joined Charlie at the door, clicking the autostart button on his truck keys. The engine revved to life outside as Cas locked the door behind him. Charlie slid into the passenger seat as Cas took the drivers seat, squeezing the steering wheel tightly before releasing it and shifting into drive.

The drive was long, and Cas had a hard time not thinking of all those memories of the boys.

Finally they arrived. Cas stepped out of the truck, grabbing his suitcase out of the back seat, and quickly strode up to the door. He felt a chill as he placed his hand on the door handle, turning it slowly and swinging the door open. The warm light of the hall illuminated his tired face, and as he walked down the steps into the main area he felt flooded with bittersweet memories. He could see Dean and Sam in his mind's eye, sitting at the tables, researching for one of their countless hunts. But the memory faded quickly as it had come, and he rubbed his arms as the chill came back.

Eileen and the kids were waiting for them in the media room. The kids were watching a movie and Eileen was crocheting. She set down the yarn in her hands and got up, giving them both big hugs, and the kids followed suit.

Then Eileen, sitting once more, took a breath, and began to sign, telling Cas how the boys died, and that they were so glad he and Charlie were there with them, that it was always good to have more family around. Tears began to flow from her eyes and she dropped her hands into her lap, looking down. At that moment Cas knew how hard she was taking the loss, so he pulled her close to him and hugged her. He knew he couldn't compare to Sam, but she needed something. He felt arms curving around him and Eileen, and glanced up to see Dean, Bobby, and Ella, half hugging him and half hugging their mother. All with tears streaming down their young faces. Charlie joined in and for awhile the group of them stayed that way, taking comfort in each other.

They stayed up late that night, telling stories of the men they knew and loved, laughing, crying, grieving, and just a bit, healing.

The next morning brought sunshine, they donned their black clothing and stepped outside into the bright light, the warmth drying their tears.

They spent the morning setting things up. The bunker needed seating for everyone who was attending the memorial later that evening. Before that, privately, would be the burning. The pyres were already set up, and Cas and Dean took the job of readying the boys for it. They cried, unashamed of their sorrow, throughout the whole process.

The burning itself went by quickly, and everyone involved was relieved as the last of the embers died out, for they weren't sure they could stand there much longer remembering.

As they shuffled inside, the first of their guests for the memorial arrived, a loud knock sounding on the door.

On the other side stood a very awkward Crowley, dressed in his usual black suit, with a black tie. Behind him stood his mother Rowena, looking equally as awkward.

"Come in." Dean gestured, eyeing them slightly.

"We're... so sor'y for yer loss." The redheaded witch offered politely, and Eileen gestured "thank you." She guided them to the main area of the bunker, in which sat dozens of seats and a table with a projector for photos and videos. Cas had packed his photos when he left, and now they sat neatly by the projector with a photo scanner beside them.

Many people arrived after that, Claire, Patience, Jody, Donna, Jack, Chuck, And many more arrived to say their goodbyes to the Winchester brothers who saved the world several times over.

A few hours past, they all ate dinner and had pie, and when everyone was finished they said their own goodbyes and eventually Dean, Bobby, Ella, Eileen, Cas, and Charlie were alone once more.

Cas and Charlie stayed for one week afterward, helping with anything they could. Eventually they too, went home, but not before both insisting Eileen call them if they needed anything.

Additional A/N: If you want the addition of how the boys died, send me an ask-I couldn't find a good way to put it in.

[let-the-music-take-c0ntrol]

Wedding Series: The Honneymoon

A/N: Wow it’s finally here the last part! Sorry it took so long I’ve been hella busy and low-key putting this off. Only reason for that is because I’m not as into Sk8 as I use to be, which means this will be the last thing I write about for him (on this blog anyway). Thank you all for reading this entire series! Anyway enjoy the gif. I wanted it to match the theme of this chapter. Sorry for the long note so let’s get to it!

Warning: Contains Sexual Content. View At Your Own Risk!!!

     The feeling of turbulence was what made you wake up. You had jolted in your spot making Nate flinch in surprise. “Whoa you good?” Nate questioned, his hand landing on your upper arm and squeezing it for a second. You looked around confusedly with squinted eyes and nodded. Nate shifted in his spot to allow you to lay on him some more. “We’re gonna land soon,” he whispered, trying not to wake the other passengers. 

“Nine hours feels so long in the air,” you muttered, trying to get comfortable. Nate smiled at your words. The two of you had slept for most of the flight. At some point Nate had woken up and started to write a bit of music as you slept. The two of you had been married for two days exactly. Nate would have liked to have gone on the honeymoon directly after the reception, but he knew you all to well to know that you would need at least a day to pack. Any other time you were on top of stuff, but when it came to vacations you always took long to pack. “Can you open the window?” you timidly asked. Nate slid the cover barrier up so that you were able to see where the two of you where. The sun had started to set, but you could make out the crystal blue water down below. There was something else but you weren’t quite sure what it was. 

“The pilot said it was Mt. Otemanu,” Nate pointed out. The two of you could barely see the mountain just an outline. Your body leaned over Nate’s just a bit more so you could get a clear view. “The place we’re staying is not too far from there,” he said. You relaxed back into your chair and smiled at Nate in enthusiasm. Your hand reached over to grab his and you squeezed it. 

“Tell me more about the resort,” you begged. All Nate had told you was the location and that you’ll be staying in the Four Seasons Resort. Nate’s face contorted in thought and you tugged at his arm like a child trying to get their mother’s attention. “Come on,” you whined, giving him a pout. 

“Okay the only thing I can tell you is that we’re staying in a over water bungalow,” he told you. The tiny hint made your skin tingle and you started to imagine what it would feel like to finally be on the island away from everything and just disconnecting. Of course the two of you weren’t far from doing that. In about ten minutes the plane was going to land and the two of you would be in paradise.

Nate’s hand squeezed yours in comfort as he stuck the key into the door. You were buzzing with excitement and squeezed his hand back. Nate unlocked the door and slowly pushed it open. The two of you had been silent throughout this whole process. Nate gesturing for you to enter first and take a look around. You might have been a bit too giddy and skipped inside ahead of Nate. He couldn’t help but to smile and tipped the person that had escorted you to your bungalow. Nate grabbed your luggage and brought it inside. It was a bit cooler at night, even more so since the two of you were staying above the water. Somehow you had found yourself back outside. Except this time it was opposite of the entrance to the bungalow. You were out on the balcony and was staring out at the water. You could clearly see what was ahead of you. The bungalows that had occupants in them were lit, allowing light to spill out onto the water. There was some stairs leading towards the water. Your own way to get into it and back into the suite without going around. Nate had made his way into the bedroom. He placed your luggage to the side and kicked off his shoes. He let out a sigh of comfort and then went to go look for you. 

Somehow without Nate’s knowledge you had gotten into the plunge pool. This was where he had found you after about fifteen minutes. “This place is amazing,” you gushed towards Nate. He was leaning up against the door frame, watching you with the smile.

“You should see the bedroom,” he smirked, “Did you get in there with your clothes on?” Nate’s eyebrows furrowed when he realized you were literally swimming in the water. You shook your head and a sly smile made its way onto your lips.

“I decided to skinny dip. Care to join me?” you asked, beckoning him over. Nate laughed at your words and cleared his throat. You wiggled your eyebrows at him. “Don’t tell me you’re getting shy,” you said in a teasing manner. Nate licked his lips and a tiny whine left them. In just a matter of seconds he was stripping from his clothes. You cheered in delight, but quickly covered your mouth when you realized some people might be sleeping. 

“Oh shit this is cold!” Nate yelped, eyes closing as he tried not to focus on the temperature of the pool. He was letting out deep breaths for each step he took inside. Finally his whole body was submerged under the water. You swam towards him and Nate reached out to grab you by the waist and pull you towards his body. “How are you feeling Mrs. Maloley?” he questioned with a smirk. You smiled at his words and your eyes sparkled in delight. 

“I feel great, calm really,” you replied. Nate nodded at your words and he leaned down to give you a small kiss. You turned in his embrace, back pressed against his chest as you looked out at the view. Bora Bora was absolutely beautiful at night and you couldn’t help but to admire it. The both of you resting in this position for some time. You soon felt Nate’s hands slowly slide down your body. His fingers tickling your skin as he pinched at your hip and then his hands landed on your ass and Nate lightly squeezed at it. You laughed at the action and quickly pulled away from him. “Oh come on!” he softly whined, only to receive a face full of water as you splashed him.

“What?” you innocently asked, knowing exactly where he was going when he touched you. Nate’s eyes narrowed and he gave you a sly smile. You began to swim away from him already knowing what was on his mind. Soon the two of you were getting into a splash war and your laughter echoed out into the air. Finally Nate had caught you and you were once again back in his arms. “I know your games,” you said, wiggling about in his arms. You gave up after a while and wrapped your legs around his waist. Nate’s length pressed against your thigh. You rested your head on his shoulder and allowed him to swim towards the edge of the pool until your back was pressed against the cool glass. Nate’s nose nuzzled into your neck and water droplets fell from his eyelashes and onto your shoulder. He kissed at your shoulder then your neck. 

“Can I kiss you?” Nate whispered in your ear. He felt your body move against his and though he couldn’t hear it Nate knew you were laughing at his question. Usually if he wanted to kiss you he’d just do it, but for some reason Nate was feeling a bit shy right now. You pulled away to look at him. Your hand reaching up to brush away the hair that was draped over his eyes. 

“Of course you can kiss me,” you smiled, hands still running through his hair. Nate exhaled deeply and he leaned down to capture your lips with his in a sweet, but passionate kiss. You kissed him back with the same intensity and it lasted for a good three minutes before the two of you pulled away. You caught your breath feeling the heat rise between the two of you. You head tilted to the side as you felt his lips trail across your skin. You let out a tiny gasp as he nibbled at your sweet spot. You thanked your lucky stars Nate was holding you up at the moment. Nate pushed his crotch into yours and a soft moan left your lips. His lips were back on yours, but more feverish this time. Your tongue slipping between his lips and tasting his tongue. Nate’s teeth sunk into your bottom lip and he pulled and released it in a teasing manner. The kiss continued and you fingers dug into his shoulder creating half moons. 

     The sun beaming down through the window felt warm against your skin making a smile embrace your face. You had momentarily forgotten where you were. The soft sheets on your bare skin feeling unfamiliar as you tossed over to the side. Your eyes shot open and glanced at your surroundings for a bit before realizing where you were, body relaxing back into the covers. You were still naked from the previous night; though yours and Nate’s actions didn’t go further than making out and feeling each other up. You both were too jet lagged to have sex, so you opted for cuddling naked. Speaking of Nate, you had realized he wasn’t in bed next to you. You sat up and stretched while letting out a yawn. You could hear Nate talking to someone from outside the room and soon the sound of a door closing. You slid out of bed and grabbed a long t-shirt from out your luggage. Once you were partially dressed you went in search of your husband. Nate was out on the patio of the bungalow hovering over a table and moving around plates of food. You quietly stepped out and instantly felt the heat of the sun. You couldn’t help but to grin at the sight in front of you. Nate looked relaxed almost like he needed this vacation. “Are you going to stand there and stare at me or are you gonna come eat?” Nate said. His eyes were still locked on what he was doing, so the fact that he knew you were there was a bit shocking.

“How do you know I’m staring at you? I could be looking at the view,” you told him, arms now crossing over your chest and giving Nate an ‘explain that’ look. 

“I am the view, Sunshine,” he teased, waving you over. You laughed at his words and walked closer to him. “I asked them to bring breakfast technically it’s lunch because someone decided to sleep until one,” Nate playfully scolded. Your eyes widened at his words and your mouth gaped in surprise.

“It’s one in the afternoon?” you questioned, earning a nod from him. Nate pulled out the chair for you to sit down. “I’m sorry. I hope you weren’t awake without me for too long,” you commented. Your mouth watered at the sight of french toast being placed in front of you. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until now. With all the excitement of getting to the resort, you and Nate failed to grab dinner. 

“Just for an hour. I was pretty jet lagged too,” Nate said, grabbing two sausages from a pile and placing it on his plate. “I called my mom to let her know we had landed safely, but other than that my phone is off and we’re entirely disconnected from the world.” You smiled at his words a feeling of comfort slipping down your spine. The two of you had agreed to not use your phones or social media while on the honeymoon. Opting to bring along a regular camera and a Polaroid one to document the trip. You let out a sigh of content and ate your breakfast while staring out at the gorgeous view. 

“So what do you have planned for today?” you asked a while later, popping a grape into your mouth and munching on it. Nate rose an eyebrow at you over his cup of coffee and he sipped at it slowly.

“Uh nothing,” he said, “We’re on vacation baby there doesn’t need to have a plan. We should just cruise carpe diem.” You let out a tiny groan at his words. Even when you two went on a normal vacation you both always had a plan. Nate could sense your hesitation and he reached out to grab your hand. “Right now the world is our oyster, so look around and tell me. What do you want to do first?” he asked.

“Well first off it’s ‘the world is your oyster.’ Second what’s with the famous clichés?” you laughed, tugging at his hand. Nate gave you one of his signature smiles and you rolled your eyes. 

“Come on just look. What do you want to do?” he seriously asked. You hummed, lips pursing as you looked out at the water. There was already guests out and about. You could even see some standing up on some boards and paddling around. You glanced at Nate and then smiled.

“How about paddle boarding,” you suggested. It was something you had always wanted to try and since Nate was saying the two could do anything you wanted then why not that. 

“Paddle boarding it is,” he agreed.

     “Oh shit!” Nate yelled, beginning to wobble on his board. He tried hard to steady himself but instead failed and the sound of his body hitting the water echoed around the area. Your hand covered over your mouth to stop your laugh. The sound of your giggles only coming through seconds later the minute Nate resurfaced. “You think that’s funny huh?” Nate said, narrowing his eyes at you. You shook your head and stifled your laugh. Nate dipped under the water and swam closer to your board. 

“NATE NO!” you shouted, already knowing what he was going to do. Before you could even stop him, Nate had tipped your board over and you fell into the water. The splash ringing loud in his ears. “You suck,” you pouted, sucking in a deep breath of fresh air. 

“You shouldn’t have laughed at me,” Nate smiled, splashing you with water. You began to tread the water then leaned back until you were back floating. 

“Have to admit that it was funny,” you said, slowly moving closer to Nate. He climbed up on the paddle board he had pushed you off of and closely watched you. The two of you had been out in the water for two hours now. Swimming with the fishes and just enjoying the sun. Finally after managing to ride the paddle boards without help the two of you were just playing around. Nate couldn’t help but to admire you. His eyes scanning over your body with love and lust. He didn’t forget the night before-or more so the early morning. You could practically feel his stare and stopped the back float to look at him. “What?” you questioned, almost feeling as if he was staring at a really bad tan you had just gotten.

“Nothing. You’re just so beautiful,” Nate replied. You felt your skin heat up at his words and swam until your were next to him. 

“This place is breathtaking,” you said, resting your arms on the board, closing your eyes, and raising your head up to soak in the sun. Nate nodded in agreement and reached out to poke at your cheek. “Mhm?” you hummed in response, still in the same position. Nate’s eyes landed on your collarbone and he began to chew on his bottom lip. When he didn’t respond you broke from your tiny trance and looked at him. 

“We should head back to the room. . .take a shower, get ready for dinner,” he said nonchalantly. Nate had expressed the words “take a shower” and from the look he was giving you, you knew what he meant. “Only if you want to,” he quickly added on. 

“How about a bubble bath instead?” you suggested, “We can light some candles, pop open a bottle of champagne.” Your words trailed off as your fingers ran across one of his tattoos. Nate felt goosebumps rise up on his skin at your touch. He was already hard and you could tell from how constraint his swim trunks had become. The two of you grabbed the oars and made your way back to shore to return the paddle boards. You couldn’t have been quick enough in trying to get back to your bungalow suite. The minute the two of you got inside, Nate ordered some champagne and chocolate covered fruit while you ran the bath. You began to light the candles that was provided in the room and turned off the bathroom light.

You began to get undressed and hung your wet swimsuit on the balcony to dry. The water was just the right temperature and you felt a tingle run down your spine as you stepped into it. “Okay I also got fruit covered in cho-” Nate entered the bathroom and stopped in tack when he saw you in the water. “Chocolate,” he said, “Couldn’t wait for me?” You shook your head at his words, hands reaching around you to play with the bubbles. He shook his head in amusement and then pulled the cart that held the champagne, two glasses, and the fruit he was just talking about. Nate popped open the bottle and poured the liquid into the two glasses. He handed one over to you and then proceeded to get undressed. Luckily the tub was big enough for the both of you. Nate’s long body sliding into the hot water. It was a huge contrast to the cool water from outside. 

“This is nice,” you commented, resting your head back and just relaxing. You decided to move over until your back was pressed against Nate’s chest and you could feel him slightly tense. There was always some affect you had on him when you two were naked and in a confined space. It drove Nate insane and once again his length grew hard. “You okay?” you muttered, reaching out to brush some strands of hair from out his eyes. 

“Great actually. I married the love of my life and now we’re in this beautiful place,” he said, kissing at your hairline. You grabbed a chocolate covered cherry from off the tray and fed it to him. The air became tense and you knew it was from the sexual tension you both were harboring. Neither of you had been able to touch one another in the way you wanted since the wedding. Your first night as a married couple was spent celebrating, so you were too exhausted to do anything. The next day you both had to catch a plane. Long story short you both were in desperate need for a release. Things seemed to escalate quickly. The both of you feeding each other fruit and getting buzzed just enough was what egged you on. The sensual atmosphere was all you needed. At some point the two of you started to make out. 

Your breaths were in sync and you turned in your spot until you were straddling him. The sounds of your kissing echoed around the room. Teeth clashing together and tongues massaging the other. You moaned into Nate’s mouth when he bucked his crotch into yours. The kiss broke and you trailed your lips across his jawline. Sucking tiny love bites into his skin. Nate’s hands slowly slid over your skin and his hands landed on your ass. He squeezed at your ass cheeks and spread them apart. Retracting his hand back, Nate gave your ass a slap eliciting a breathy moan from you in return. “You like that?” Nate questioned, earning a vigorous nod from you. He did it again and you moaned even more, your head going down to rest on his shoulder. You softly nibbled at the skin between his earlobe. Tongue gliding over the purple bruise that was beginning to form. With one hand you reached down and grabbed his length. “Fuck,” Nate hissed, hands pausing their action as you began to softly squeeze up and down his length. Nate licked his lips, breath becoming shallow as he tried to focus on pleasuring you too. 

His hand slipped between your legs and his thumb pressed near your clit. The sensation made you shiver and you began to stroke Nate’s length as he kept playing with your bundle of nerves. You continued to add to the display of love bites on his skin and both your moans littered the air. Your thumb swiped over the head of his length and Nate’s hips jerked up in instinct. He was in bliss, but knew the feeling would be much more intense once he was inside of you. Nate slid a finger into your heat. The feeling of it being a dull pain since water never served well in lubrication. It almost felt good, your legs going slack as he added in another finger and continued to rub your clit. Nate began to thrust his fingers making you whine in both pain and pleasure. Finally your lips landed back on his in a feverish kiss. Your hips moving against his fingers in need of wanting more. “Bedroom,” you said against his lips already knowing your stroking wasn’t doing much for him and neither was his fingering doing much for you. Nate pulled his fingers out of you and you whimpered at the loss. With legs feeling like jelly you stood up as best as you could. Nate was the first to step out the tub and he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. Grabbing another towel, Nate draped it over your shoulders before bending down and scooping you up into his arms. You yelped in surprise, but still allowed Nate to carry you back into the bedroom.

“I’ve been waiting to do this,” Nate said, carefully tossing you on the bed. You were still wet and droplets of water flew everywhere as you body landed on the soft mattress. “Waiting to feel your warmth-” he grabbed at your ankle and slowly pulled you towards the end of the bed. “Waiting to taste you-” Nate spread your legs apart and you instantly felt a different type of wetness. Your chest rose rapidly as his fingers trailed down your leg and teased at your inner thighs. “Waiting to make lo-”

“Oh just fuck me already,” you moaned out, cutting off his words. As much as you wanted Nate to make love to you, you wanted him to fuck you the most. It had been so long since the two of you had just gotten down and dirty. You couldn’t even remember the last time the two of you had sex. With the wedding planning and Nate spending his time at the studio it had gotten hard for you both to spend some quality time with one another. 

“No making love? None at all?” Nate questioned with a chuckle. You knew he was stalling at the moment. Thumb slowly rubbing over your clit in a tantalizing way. After getting you all riled up Nate loved to tease you until you were begging for him.

“We can make love later please Nate just fu-” a moan left your lips and your hand flew down to grip at the sheets. Nate had skipped the teasing and went in for the kill. His tongue taking a long swipe up your slit and the tip of it playing with your bundle of nerves. Before you could even close your legs Nate had pushed them down. He sent three kitty licks between your folds and nipped at your clit. You had to be soaked by now, hips raising in a request for him to do more. Nate plunged his tongue inside of you, moving it about while his thumb rubbed over your clit. He moaned against your heat the vibrations of it making your clit throb. The sounds of your moans had his length pulsating. Once again his fingers were inside of you and Nate spread the two fingers apart as he scissored you. You let out a huff, toes curling as you begged him for more. “S-Shit p-please Nate,” you whined, desperately needing him inside of you. You had missed his length. Having it fill you to the brim and hitting all the right spots. 

“Say it. You know the magic word,” Nate growled, lust filled eyes glancing up to gauge your reactions. You whimpered at his words and Nate added in a third finger. The burning sensation of it felt good and you began to clench around his fingers. You were far from close and Nate knew it. “All you have to do is say it,” he teased, reaching one hand up to grab and play with your breasts. Your eyes slowly opened and he could tell they had grown a shade darker. “You know what I want to hear,” Nate taunted, pinching at your nipple until it became a hardened nub. You shook your head and as a result Nate completely pulled away. “Naughty girls get punished,” he told you. You clamped your mouth shut, but reluctantly turned over when he tapped your thigh in a small demand for you to turn over. You felt his large hands cusp your ass and he rubbed over the cheeks slowly. You knew what he was about to do, your clit already throbbing at the sensation of feeling your ass cheeks on fire. “Last chance,” Nate said, “Are you going to say it?” You shook your head once more.

“No,” you said through gritted teeth. Nate retracted his hand back and sent a harsh slap to your ass. You let out a gasp and he gave you another slap to the same cheek.

“Count,” Nate demanded. Sending two more slaps to the other cheek.

“F-Four,” you stuttered out, letting out a moan and burying your face into the pillow. “Five, six, seven,” you hummed, body tensing as the pain increased. Your juices coated your inner thighs and Nate smirked at the sight. He added five more slaps and you counted just like he had demanded. You felt the bed raise as Nate climbed off of it. 

“I brought a little something,” he said, you stayed in your position knowing good and well that if you moved Nate would spank you even more. 

“What is it?” you breathlessly asked. Rocking your hips up and down. Nate’s hands were finally back on you and you sighed in relief as he spread your ass cheeks apart and licked at your folds. 

“So fucking wet,” he hummed, thumb pressing hard at your clit and rubbing. “I bought lube. It’ll make everything feel so good and slick,” he said. You could hear the cap of the bottle open and soon felt the coolness of the liquid being poured over your ass. You moaned as the cold liquid calmed your burning skin and Nate continued to rub your clit. You couldn’t take it anymore and knew Nate wanted to be inside of you just as much as you wanted him there.

“Please fuck me. . . Master,” you finally said. The last word leaving your mouth slowly and washing over Nate. He smirked at the word and you could tell Nate might have came right there if you had said it again. It was a name he had chosen for himself, being the Dom of your relationship of course. 

“See was that so hard,” Nate whispered, sending feather-like kisses down your spine. You could feel the head of this length press at your entrance, but before entering you Nate made sure to rub his tip between your folds a few times. Slowly he pushed in and your body shook at the new sensation. Doggy style had always been your favorite position. The angle allowed Nate to hit all the right spots and you could sometimes take control if he was feeling up to it. Your hands reached out to grip at the sheets as Nate continued to enter you. He added more lube and you soon figured out what he meant about everything feeling smoother. Nate pushed all the way in and the two of you simultaneously moaned. There was always something about having sex in a new place that made everything feel intense. Maybe it was the atmosphere or the tension. Whatever it was you loved it. “I swear I’ll never get tired of this,” Nate said, letting out a throaty laugh. 

You had become impatient and pushed your ass back against him. Nate moaned at the movement and you began to rock against his length, riding him in a different way. You felt him leave you for a second and then you slid back down until he was inside of you once again. After about the third time, Nate took control and gripped at your hips. Your moans bounced off the wood of the bungalow as Nate pounded into you. The sounds of his skin slapping against yours was like a sweet melody. You met his thrusts as best as you could, body shaking in pleasure and thighs tensing. “Fuck yes right there,” you squealed, one hand reaching back to grip at his wrist. Nate gave a particularly sharp thrust and you let out a tiny scream. His length was long and had just the right girth to have you withering beneath him. Broken words left your lips as Nate repeated the action. Your hand moved from his wrist and dipped between your legs so that you could rub at your clit. You were nearly seeing stars and enjoyed the immense pleasure. The two of you weren’t going to leave that bed until you were ready. It felt so good to feel each other again. Celebrating your marriage in the best way possible.

     “Ooooh give me a turn baby,” Nate cheered, reaching his hand out and twirling you around. You giggled at his words and did a pose for him. “You look gorgeous,” he said.

“You look amazing too,” you smiled, straightening his bow tie and pecking his lips in a sweet kiss. Your eyes landed on the purple bruises scattering across his neck and you cleared your throat. “Maybe you should let your hair down to cover the uh,” you said, poking at one of the love bites.

“I’m good. I want everyone to know who I belong to,” he winked, “Let’s go before we’re late.” The two of you had reservations for a dinner and entertainment down at the hotel restaurant. You and Nate could have spent all day in bed if you wanted to, but Nate had brought up the fact that he made reservations and that you should start getting ready for it. Since neither of you washed up during your bath, it also met you had to shower once again. You glanced at yourself in the mirror before grabbing Nate’s hand and leaving the suite. You were starving to say the least. The first time you ate was earlier that day and it had already gotten dark. Warmth glossed over your skin as you both walked to the restaurant and Nate pulled you into his side. His arm wrapped around your waist, hand resting at your hip as you made your way there.

Nate could see your eyes light up in excitement as the dancers walked out. Your plate of food being forgotten as they began to dance with the fire. “Oh my god, Nate look!” you exclaimed, your hand hitting at his thigh. All the guests were in awe as they watched the dance take place. Nate’s attention was split between watching you and the dancers. He loved to see your smile and how the sides of your eyes crinkled when you became excited at seeing something new. 

“Maybe you should learn how to do that,” Nate joked, nodding his chin in the directions of the dancers. You laughed at his words and shook your head. 

“I’d end up hurting myself, but I should film this!” you said, your thoughts jumping all over the place. You dug into your bag and pulled out the camera. Nate laughed and shook his head in amusement. This had to be the best vacation the two of you had ever been on and he was glad to be sharing it with his now wife. 

[aspooookystory]

Reclaimed, part 3

Burton began to see them almost immediately after breaking ground for the house. They always appeared as a group, looking like extras in a zombie movie, except of course much worse because only Burton seemed to be able to see them and it wasn’t a movie. There were about 40 of them, always standing down close to the lake, next to the treeline separating Burton and Monica’s hard-won property from the neighbor’s yard. They stood and watched, or whatever passes for watching when you don’t have eyes. Their clothes were rags. White bone glinted in the sun. Whenever they appeared, Burton could smell them. Not decomposing flesh, but dust. The inside of a long-closed box.

Always in the front of the group was the drowned woman with her baby, or what he guessed was once her baby. She clutched a cloth bundle to what was left of her chest.

Burton did not know what they wanted, or told himself he did not know. He thought of them as he thought of every obstacle in his life: something to get out of the way. In his office at the big white house he googled things like restless spirits and disturbed grave apparitions but this never led him anywhere sensible, just a jumble of old badly coded websites about haunted houses and urban legends. Burton shook his head, irritated. He either needed them to go away or to be explained. Maybe they would leave when the house was finished? Were they confused? Burton pictured himself walking out to their position near the treeline, explaining what had happened, them jostling their partially exposed skulls to show they understood before shuffling off to the outskirts of town and laying down in their new graves. 

One day, finally, it was all done. The house was remarkable, even among other castles built by other millionaires. It looked like a sea captain’s house: cedar shake, a turret, a widow’s walk along the very top, laced with wrought iron. Every detail thrilled Burton, and if Monica seemed underwhelmed, Burton didn’t think much of it. He could rest at last, having achieved this pinnacle thing, the great dream of his life, the big house with the lake view that everyone wanted and that he’d fought so hard to win.

After they moved in, though, Burton was not able to rest. The people, or what remained of them anyway, had not gone away. They still appeared to him, day and night now, and unless Burton was really losing his mind they seemed to be growing impatient. They were no longer content to huddle by the treeline near the shore. Sometimes they were as close as the deck around the pool. Burton started to feel afraid, because he recognized something in them, rolling off them like that dusty stench: they wanted something.

***

Monica succumbed almost right away. Burton hadn’t been paying much attention to her, all his time had been spent fighting with people and then dealing with the architect and the contractor and the landscapers. One night he finished up some work in his office, a heavily paneled room with a fireplace and expansive view of the lake, and went upstairs with two glasses of wine, looking for his wife. Monica was curled on the settee in their master bedroom, an open book turned face down on her lap, her hand curled over it as if she’d stopped to gaze out at the lake. He called to her, said he’d brought wine, but she continued staring straight ahead, and Burton really looked at her for the first time in months. She waved away the wine, her eyes dull, skin dry and loose.

Over the next week, Monica worsened quickly. She cried, mournfully, and seemed in the grip of a despair that she could not articulate. She didn’t want to see a doctor, didn’t want to eat or shop or read. Burton began to notice the smell. He wondered if she was sick, if something was eating her from the inside out, because some part of her, it must be said, seemed to be rotting. He felt panic, possibly for the first time in his life. Monica was frightened, too, and then purely terrified, unable even to sleep.

One morning, Burton woke up and realized that Monica was not in bed next to him. At first, he hoped this was a good sign, that she was feeling better and had gotten up for a shower or some tea, or just to read in the settee with the beautiful view, a favorite pastime of hers. He got out of bed and found her there, on the settee, sitting slumped over to one side, staring blankly at nothing and quite dead.

She looked terrible, as though she’d been dead for some time. Had she? Been dead for a while? Burton’s thoughts ran around madly inside his head. He looked again at Monica, her eyes fixed and glassy. Burton despaired at the thought of touching her, but he desperately wanted her to stop looking at him, so he reached out a trembling hand to close her eyelids as he’d seen in movies. 

What could he do? If he called an ambulance, what would he say? My wife seems to have died in the night. Well, that was putting it mildly. She had clearly been dead for days, Burton had been living with a zombie, which he absolutely could not tell anyone and be taken seriously. There would be questions. Interruptions. People would interfere, want him to answer questions he could not. He thought of waiting until night, carrying her outside, dropping her into the lake, but she’d be found. He could bury her somewhere? He did, after all, own a cemetery. But that would be noticed, him in his private cemetery late at night, digging. He wouldn’t let himself google anything. Too risky, don’t do anything that could be used as evidence, even though he hadn’t done anything, not really. 

After dark, Burton opened the extra-long sliding door on the back of the house, the one that was meant to provide the joys of indoor-outdoor living. He needed air, but instead of a fresh lake breeze, he smelled them: dust. He looked out to the tree line, could see them massed in their usual spot. Wordlessly Burton went back in the house, gathered his wife’s body up in the comforter he’d draped over her, and carried her outside. He placed her in the yard, a few feet off the patio, and backed away slowly. They stood motionless, watching. Once inside, Burton locked the door and turned off the outdoor lights, scampering upstairs and hiding in the master bathroom like a child. He stayed there until dawn, when he finally allowed himself to look out the window over the backyard. 

The dead, and his wife, were gone.

***

Burton didn’t want to go outside anymore, they were always there now, the dead people, which now included his wife among their number. This was all the more terrifying because she looked worse, more decomposed, each time, and he was embarrassed for her in some way. He stayed in the house and barely attended his income properties, offloading responsibilities to a property manager. He tried to get a hold of the man he’d hired to tend the new cemetery, but the phone always went unanswered; a few minutes of googling during a fitful night turned up his obituary. Burton found the man’s family, called them, inquired about the death. They did not seem to want to discuss it. It was a sudden illness, a woman whispered sorrowfully before a man took the phone and barked that Burton was upsetting his wife. Burton hoped the caretaker had at least been properly buried and not carried away in the night by a gaggle of persistent zombies.

Over the next several days it felt to Burton that the dead were always near. Sometimes it seemed as though they had been in the house. Had Monica told them how to get in? He was insane. He knew he should leave, he should evict a tenant from one of his prosaic Lakewood side-by-sides and move in. But this was his house, his lakefront palace, it had cost him so much. The more frightened he became, the more angry he felt. The tables were turned and these dead people were trying to take something from him.

How to get rid of them? He wondered if it was like on television, if he had to shoot them in the head or hack them apart to get them to stop, were they really zombies? Again, he was insane. One morning he woke up and immediately smelled their dusty old bones and knew they’d been in the house, in his room, while he slept. Had they all come in, watched him, standing there silent and horrible like they did at the treeline? Or was it just the drowned woman and her terrible unseen baby? The night before he’d looked outside and they were standing at the edge of the patio, and she almost seemed to gesture to the bundle, like she wanted to show it to him. He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want anything to do with them, he’d bought the land fair and square. It was his. They’d been evicted.

Burton had avoided looking at himself in the mirror once he noticed how dry his skin was getting, how spotted his hands had become. He knew what was happening. Who could he call? What would he say? I’m dying. I’ve died. The dead have come to claim their land, and I’m a zombie now, please send someone. He had to laugh. He wondered how it would happen. Would he slip away in his sleep, as Monica had, and continue to decompose there in the beautiful master bedroom with the tray ceiling and the fireplace and the settee facing the lake. Would the dead move in, throw him into the lake as he’d considered doing with his wife, would they pay the property taxes, put the garbage in the bin for the man in the tiny truck to take away each week? What could they possibly want with the house? 

He felt himself getting closer to the end of whatever was happening to him, whatever process had been inflicted on him by the dead people in his yard. He was very tired, always cold, he smelled bad. He felt sadness, he cried, both for himself and for Monica, realizing what she must have gone through. He was, he’d decided – admitted, really – already dead. He lay down in bed, drew the sheets up over himself, waited, smelled old dust.

***

His lawyer had been the one to call the police. She couldn’t get a hold of Burton for days and found the house empty, the patio door slid open, the bedding on the master bedroom floor looking as if someone had been dragged off of it. Did it seem that way, or was she imagining things? Maybe Burton had been about to make the bed, it didn’t mean anything sinister necessarily, but the house didn’t give her a good feeling. It never had, being built on top of a graveyard, sorry, a former graveyard, but it still seemed a bad business to her, it had all along.

When Burton wasn’t found – no trace of him or Monica, not anywhere, for months and then a year and then two – the house went on the market. Plenty of people came and looked, mostly out of curiosity, Did you hear, the guy that dug up the graveyard, he disappeared, no one ever heard from him again. But no one made an offer. Once people got inside, the house felt all wrong.

Burton’s private cemetery, being untended and largely forgotten, became overgrown, then unrecognizable. Weeds and grasses consumed the old re-set headstones, trees deformed and swallowed the fence, the sign fell off. All around it, things came to life, a shopping plaza and a gas station and a chicken restaurant. The abandoned cemetery started to make the rest of the neighborhood look bad and few people remembered the crazy man who’d dug up dead people to build a house on the lake. 

Business owners became annoyed, it was infuriating to think that perfectly good land was just sitting there because of a bunch of dead people nobody knew or even remembered. How many graves were there? 40 or so? There were no records, it was a private cemetery. And certainly no one noticed, when the diggers and the flatbed trucks came to move the graves again, the two unmarked and more recent graves. The woman and the man had been interred without coffins or even the bare courtesy of a box, less buried than reclaimed by the earth, or by something else entirely.