#what's driving me insane right now is a menu that will close only when i DONT click on the damn button because

[pupuyvs]

epilogue

4 years later…

Chaewon groans as she paces back and forth.

“Chaewon sweetie I told you to calm down, you’re going to drive yourself insane,” her mother says while relaxing on the girl’s couch.

Chaewon stops and turns to her mother, clearly annoyed by her nonchalance, “I would be calm if everyone just arrived on time.”

Sighing, Yoona pats the spot next to her on the couch. Chaewon reluctantly sits down, a small dog jumping on her lap as soon as she does.

“Today is supposed to be a good day, not stressful. Relax, everything will work out, everyone is on their way.”

Before Chaewon could respond a knock on the door rings out, standing abruptly, the dog on her lap immediately jumping, she rushes to open the door.

“Mrs. and Mr. Yoo,” she exclaims.

The two walk in each taking turns hugging the girl.

“Chaewon sweetie what did I tell you about calling me Mrs. Yoo, you know its Mama Yoo to you,” Jihye’s mother says to her as she closes the door. Blushing slightly, Chaewon nods, “Right, I’m sorry.”

Waving her off she takes a look around the apartment, gasping when she sees the other’s mother.

“Yoona,” she exclaims before rushing to hug the other woman.

“Oh, Seohyun, it’s so good to see you again,” she then turns to the man who followed behind the other woman, “Taecyeon.”

“Yoona.”

The two stare at each other before breaking out into laughs, the man then leaning down to hug the other woman, “It’s good to see you again.”

Yoona nods before Seohyun exclaims once more as she suddenly kneels down to the white dog that was desperately trying to gain someone’s attention, “And who is this?”

“Shiro.”

“He’s adorable, isn’t he Taec?”

The man nods with a sigh, and then turns to Yoona and Chaewon, “She’s been trying to convince me to adopt another dog for the past few months when we already have two.”

“And what’s wrong with another one,” Seohyun says as she stands up, Shiro now in her arms.

“Nothing sweetheart, nothing.”

Satisfied with his answer, Seohyun goes to sit on the couch next to Yoona, who has also sat back down.

“Chaewon, this apartment is beautiful by the way, I love how you decorated it.”

Smiling as she comes back with bottles of water for the Yoo parents, she places them on the table for them, “Thank you, but truthfully I can’t take credit for this, Jihye mainly did this room.”

“Really,” Seohyun asks as she finally puts Shiro down to take a sip of water, “I’d never expect her to be good at decorating, she always took after her dad when it came to things like this.”

“It was surprising to me too. How was your guy's flight?”

“Actually pretty well, however, who knew California was so far from us.”

Yoona goes to agree as another knock on the door causing Chaewon to jump out of her seat, leaving the parents to talk as she goes to open it.

“About fucking time.”

“Don’t blame me, blame these two idiots,” Eunchae says while pointing to the couple behind her, earning a slap at the back of her head from Aeri.

“Don’t be rude, my baby was hungry.”

Eunchae rolls her eyes, “Doesn’t mean we have to spend thirty minutes ordering the entire fucking menu.”

This earns her another slap to the head which causes her to groan out loud and turn around, “You’re going to kill all my brain cells before I can go to college.”

“Good,” Aeri says as she guides Minjeong into the living room, “Don’t be nasty towards my wife next time.”

Eunchae simply flips her off before running to the kitchen as Yoona scolds her.

“Oh, Minjeong you’re simply glowing,” Yoona says as she helps Aeri get her on the couch.

“Thank you Ms. Im.”

“How far along are you now,” Seohyun asks this time.

“Seven months,” Aeri says happily.

Two years after graduation, Minjeong and Aeri’s parents had found out about their relationship. Not happy with their relationship, their parents immediately told them to break up. Not one to listen, Aeri had decided to not only not break up with her, but propose, which Minjeong had ultimately said yes to.

Due to this act not only tying their lives together, but their parent’s businesses together, as they were both the sole heir of their companies, their parents had no choice but to come around to it.

After almost two years of marriage the two had decided they wanted a child together, leading them to where they are now.

Before Chaewon can close the door someone slams into it, leaning down out of breath.

“Never let Eunchae guide anyone anywhere,” Yujin says as she stands up.

“Not my fault you drive slow as hell and walk even slower,” Eunchae shouts from the kitchen, currently destroying a bag of chips.

“Slow? You were going like two-hundred miles per hour and then left us to find a parking spot twenty blocks away.”

“Aeri wanted to be as close to the apartment as she could for her baby,” Eunchae retorts, the last part being said with a sweet tone as means to mock Aeri.

“Where are the others,” Chaewon asks before the two can start arguing.

“Coming up now, since you know we had to park in another state,” Yujin says as she walks into the kitchen snatching the chip bag from Eunchae, flipping her off when she complains, “You didn’t have to take the only spot in front of the apartment bastard.”

“Blame annoying ass Aeri and Minjeong.”

“Keep talking shit about me and my wife,” Aeri says, heading into the kitchen, “My babies only deserve the best.”

Both girls pretend to gag which makes Chaewon shake her head as she turns back to the hallway where she finds Yunjin walking towards her with her arms open, “Miss me?”

But before Chaewon can respond Yunjin gets shoved out the way, “Move your big ass head, she don’t wanna see you she wanna see me.”

Chaewon is then brought into a crushing hug by Yizhuo, “My bestie, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” Chaewon says, “It’s been too long.”

Pulling back to look at her Yizhuo pouts, “It wouldn’t have been this long if you didn’t up and leave us in Korea.”

“You know I had to, Stanford was perfect for Jihye.”

Yizhuo nods but gasps when she looks over Chaewon’s shoulder and pushes past her, “Is that Mama Yoo?”

Seohyun, now standing, smiles widely, “Is that my baby Yizhuo?”

Now with the doorway clear Yunjin, Kazuha, and Jimin walk in, each giving Chaewon a hug as they pass her.

“Nice to see you too Mom,” Jimin says as she watches her girlfriend and mom hug.

“Oh hush, you’re always coming home, I never get to my Zhuozhuo.”

“Zhuozhuo?”

Jimin nods as she comes back to stand next to Chaewon, rolling her eyes, “Nickname she gave her a couple years ago, I swear she’s practically disowned me as her child.”

Chaewon laughs before taking out her phone and seeing the time, “Alright everyone,” she says seriously, “We need to leave now.”

“I’m not driving Aeri and Minjeong again,” Eunchae says as she enters the entryway, which earns her a hit on the back of her head from Aeri.

“That’s fine you can take all the parents, I’ll take Jimin and Yizhuo, Yujin you take the rest.”

Not allowing anyone to argue, Chaewon takes her keys from the hook and opens the door for everyone to leave.

The graduation went by without a hitch, though they were much further back than Chaewon wanted.

But any complaints disappeared as she watched Jihye walk across the stage, their friends and family clearly feeling the same way as they were probably the loudest people there.

As they stepped out of the stadium they began to look for Jihye, who was on the phone with Seohyun trying to guide them to her.

“I see her,” Eunchae exclaims before taking off.

Jumping on her she shocks Jihye, “Eunchae? What are you doing here?”

Before she can answer the group comes up in front of her, “We couldn’t miss our bros graduation,” Yujin says.

Pulling away from Eunchae Jihye can’t hide the shock as she immediately crashes into her friend group, them all pulling her into a hug, which Seohyun makes sure to take a picture of.

Pulling back slightly to look at them Jihye’s eyes are still wide, “I can’t believe you guys are here, holy shit.”

Not giving them a chance to respond she pulls them back into a hug. When they finally pull apart she sees Minjeong and Aeri, who were standing slightly behind the friend group.

“Holy shit you’re huge,” Jihye says earning her a small slap from her mother, “Sorry it just came out.”

Minjeong just laughs as she approaches Jihye to give her a hug, “I am huge, aren’t I?”

“How far along are you now?”

“Seven months,” Minjeong tells her.

“Wow,” Jihye says, clearly in shock, “Time flies, it seems like just yesterday you guys were getting married, which sorry again we didn’t get to attend.”

Minjeong waves her off as she steps to the side so her wife can greet Jihye, which she does with a pinch to her side.

“That’s for calling my wife huge,” Aeri says when Jihye yelps. Nodding in understanding the girl hugs Aeri, when she pulls away Seohyun announces its picture time.

While waiting for the next person to come next to her to take a picture she furrows her eyebrows, “Where’s everyone else at?”

”Yeji and Chaeryeong are currently having their honeymoon in the Maldives,” Yunjin starts, “Wonbin is going on a tour with his father to their company’s branches since he’s taking over soon, Wonyoung has a fashion show and Yuna, well she got called up.”

“Yuna got called up to the national team,” Jihye exclaims.

Nodding Yunjin wraps her arm around her waist so Seohyun can take the picture.

“Insane…”

After a few more pictures Chaewon finally walks up to Jihye, the sight of her causes Jihye’s already impossibly wide smile to widen.

“Hi beautiful,” Jihye says as she pulls Chaewon to her.

“Hello, my love.”

She presses a kiss to her head, “Sorry I didn’t say hi to you first.”

Chaewon shakes her head, “I don’t mind, you haven’t seen them for years.”

“Still I should’ve said hi,” which Chaewon immediately waves off before pulling Jihye into a kiss.

Pulling away she brings her hand up to wipe up some of the lipgloss she left on Jihye’s lip, “I’m so proud of you,” she tells her.

Still slightly dazed from the kiss, Jihye smiles, “Thank you baby.”

“Hate to interrupt this, but our reservation time is coming up,” Yoona tells them.

Nodding, Jihye begins to walk with the group, her hand around Chaewon’s waist, when her name is suddenly called out.

Turning around she sees a taller man and immediately gestures for him to come over. Removing her arm from Chaewon’s waist, which earns her a small glare, she hugs the man, pulling away, she faces the group, “Guys this is Stephen, Stephen this is my family and friends.”

Everyone says hi to him, except for Chaewon who is too busy glaring.

She knew the man through Jihye, due to the fact they partnered a lot Chaewon had learned about him, though she had never met him until now, and she didn’t like the way he was now holding Jihye’s waist.

“So, where are you heading now,” Stephen asks Jihye.

“Dinner, what about you?”

“I don’t think my parents planned anything, so probably go home and enjoy being classes free.”

“Why don’t you join us,” Yoona asks, much to Chaewon’s dismay.

“I don’t want to intrude,” Stephen says back bashfully.

“You wouldn’t,” Seohyun says this time, “The more the merrier.”

Nodding the man pauses for a second, “Is it okay if my parents come too,” he asks hesitantly.

“Of course!”

“Thank you, I’ll go tell them now then,” turning to Jihye he smiles, “Text me the details?”

Nodding she brings him in for one final hug and waves when he walks away.

Turning around she immediately grabs Chaewon’s hand and follows the group as they begin to leave. Furrowing her eyebrows she looks down at the girl beside her when she notices she’s being a lot more quiet.

“Chae?”

She hums.

“What’s wrong?”

When she shakes her head in response, Jihye knows she’s lying. Pulling her lightly to get her to stop, she faces her.

“Baby…talk to me.”

“Does Stephen like you?”

“What,” the question leaves Jihye dumbfounded, “I don’t…think so…”

Chaewon tilts her head, disbelief crossing her face causing Jihye to laugh.

“I’m serious baby, we don’t really talk about stuff like that.”

“So, what do you guys talk about?”

“I don’t know,” Jihye takes a moment to think, “Class, what he plans to do in Korea.”

Chaewon takes a step back, huffing out lightly, “Are you serious? He just so happens to be moving to Korea when we’re going b-”

Chaewon’s cut off by Jihye, “What are you doing? They could possibly hear us,” exasperated she tries again, “Baby, he’s moving back because his family wants to, his brother is a trainee over there.”

“And did he tell you that before or after you mentioned,” she pauses, “That.”

“…After.”

“He likes you,” Chaewon says as she begins to walk away. Chasing after her Jihye holds her hand when she comes next to her, “Baby, even if he did like me, I don’t care because I have the most beautiful, the most perfect girlfriend in the world who I am madly in love with.”

Chaewon shyly knocks shoulders with Jihye, “Sweet talker.”

Yizhuo turns to them, “Love y’all having a moment, but can y’all hurry up I’m starving.”

Pressing one final kiss to Chaewon’s lips they head to the car.

Before they can enter the restaurant Jimin pulls Jihye to the side, quickly reassuring Chaewon everything was fine when she looks at them.

When everyone walks in Jimin looks around before leaning into Jihye, “So did you bring it?”

Jihye nods causing Jimin to smile widely, “I can’t believe it, you are for real about to marry Chaewon.”

“I don’t know if I should.”

Jimin looks at her like she just grew three heads, “What do you mean? You’re having doubts,” hitting Jihye’s arm when she nodded, “Why? You were so sure when you told me.”

“I know, but…what if I’m not good enough?”

“What? Hye, that girl is in love with you.”

“Yeah, but when we go bac-”

“Back,” Jimin asks, “Wait, you guys are coming back to Korea?”

Wincing Jihye nods, “Yeah, we’re supposed to tell you guys at dinner, fuck, I fucked up. Well…now that you know, when we go back she’s going to be training to take over her father’s business and no matter what I work as I’ll never live up to that, I mean hell the only reason I was able to head to college is because she threatened her father.”

When Chaewon and Jihye had come back from their graduation trip her father had been furious, he viewed Jihye as below Chaewon and a possible future hindrance to her. However, Chaewon objected stating that if her father does not only accepted Jihye, but help her go to college then she would step away from the business, Eunchae even stating that she would do the same. Left with no choice their father accepted, however to show his disapproval he decided to distance himself until Chaewon would come back from California.

“Hye, where is this coming from?”

“I’ve always had these doubts, they go away, but they always come back. I just, I don’t know.”

Jimin sighs softly, “Jihye, Chaewon is madly in love with you, I’m sure the only reason she hasn’t asked you to marry her is because she’s unsure if that’s what you want. I get being worried, I feel it too sometimes being with Yizhuo, but then I remember that being with her makes me so happy that letting something as dumb as doubts ruin us seems ridiculous. So don’t let your stupid doubts ruin today.”

Nodding, the two girls are then interrupted by Yujin, “You guys good? Your girls are getting kinda antsy without you, especially you Jihye. Chaewon hasn’t stopped interrogating your friend.”

Groaning, she heads for the restaurant door, “She swears he’s in love with me.”

Before she could enter Jimin grabs her hand, “You good now?”

Nodding, she hugs Jimin quickly, “Thank you, now let’s go before Chaewon comes out here with Stephen’s head on a stick.”

The beach wasn’t packed as Jihye and Chaewon walked along it. After dinner, which went amazingly well, especially when they told everyone they were moving back, Jihye had asked Chaewon if they could take a walk at the beach. Chaewon had of course said yes, stating they could do whatever she wanted as today was her day.

So after departing from everyone, Chaewon and Jihye headed to the beach alone. Or so Chaewon thought, after assuring Jimin once more she would go through with her plan, Jimin had redirected everyone to the beach so they could wait where it would happen.

As they walked closer, Jihye couldn’t stop her heart from beating out of her chest.

“Are you okay baby,” Chaewon asks, clearly seeing the girl was nervous.

“Of course.”

“Do you want to stop for a second?”

Jihye quickly shakes her head, “No, I can go for a few more minutes.”

Accepting her answer the girls walk for a bit more before Jihye stops, looking at her curiously Chaewon is a bit shocked to find the taller girl practically hyperventilating.

“Baby, are you alright?”

Jihye nods, “Yes, I just…you know I love you right?”

“Of course.”

“Good, because I’m about to sound like a complete fool, but just bear with me,” taking a deep breath to calm herself Jihye grabs Chaewon’s other hand as she stands in front of her.

“These past four years have been by the far the best years of my life. If you were to have told freshman me that I would be in California with Kim Chaewon as my girlfriend, she wouldn’t believe you. Truthfully she may have even thought you were crazy, I mean me, with the Kim Chaewon…unbelievable. But here I am…and I couldn’t be happier. Chaewon you are my world, my universe, and I couldn’t bear living in a world where you’re not in my life,” she pauses to wipe a tear that is coming down Chaewon’s face, “I know I’m terrible at words, but truthfully there is nothing I can say that could possibly tell you just how much I love you. But there is a way I can show you.”

She lets go of Chaewon’s hands as she reaches into her pocket to retrieve a ring box, which garners a gasp from Chaewon, getting down on one knee she opens up the ring box, “Kim Chaewon, the love of my life, will you marry me?”

Not even a second passes before Chaewon responds, “Yes, of course.” As soon as she places the ring on Chaewon’s finger she finds herself laying in the sand, Chaewon laying multiple kisses on her face.

Only stopping when their friends and family come out from where they were hiding to cheer them on.

When they get up Chaewon immediately latches onto Jihye, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Cupping her cheeks Chaewon pulls her in for a kiss, their friends immediately cheering except for one.

“Y’all are so gay.”

“Fuck off Eunchae.”

a/n: where do i even begin…i guess i should start off by saying thank you. the feedback i received for this au was…amazing to say the least and im truly so glad that you guys fell in love with these characters as much as i did. i truly wanted to make this 10k words long, but i also knew that was just me wanting to prolong this au from finally end 😭😭 but i couldnt prolong it no more. though this is the end of goal as a whole i will still be doing bonus chapters so if there is anything of chaehye??? hyewon??? jichae??? and their group u want to see tell me ill be down to write it. other than that thats it! i do have two smaus im currently writing which ill link here and here, however u are not obligated to read them whatsoever. if u do, i hope u enjoy what i have planned if you dont, thank you for reading what i had planned and i hope so see you again someday. this a/n long as hell so ill end it here by saying thank u again, take care, and to jihye, chaewon and friends i love yall 🫂🫂🫂🫂

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[fiction-boys-rule]

To Just Be

Pairing: Eliot Spencer/Reader (non gender specified)

Warnings: slight swearing, mental health topics, fluff

Summary: Your mental state takes a turn and you find yourself slipping back into bad habits. Eliot helps to comfort you and the both of you spend a cozy night together.

The music seems too loud in the small space of your bedroom but the thought of silence perturbes you more. The mattress is too soft but not hard enough at the same time. The feeling of your clothes on your skin is driving you insane. You are too cold and too hot at the same time, the only movement in the room being your fan and your feet adjusting the sheets every few minutes. 

You’re overstimulated, to say the least.

The phone in your hands is warm from using it for the past few hours. You can’t seem to stop your hands from doom scrolling. 

Down, down, down. 

What was the trick that the podcaster said? Ask yourself what the last three videos were about to see if you are doom scrolling? 

Shit.

Different ideas pass through your mind, in a blur. Ideas about better things you could be doing to comfort yourself in this state instead of worsening it. There’s that new book you’ve been meaning to read, your favorite childhood movie, the stack of coloring books you bought a few months ago…

That’s all they are, fleeting thoughts and ideas. Pulling yourself away from the phone screen and leaving your bedroom is a daunting task. You want to sleep and be transported into a mental state of nothing, but you aren’t physically tired enough yet.

A soft knock on your bedroom door makes you jump. It cracks open, revealing a curious Eliot.

“Hey, sweetheart. I thought you weren’t home yet.”

“Oh, hi.”

“Were you asleep?”

You glance guiltily at your phone, “No,” you answer meekly.

“You didn’t hear me calling you?” “I guess not.”

He holds his stare for a bit longer than you are comfortable with.

“Bad day today?”

“I’m just tired.” you lie.

Eliot’s feet hesitate in the doorway and you know he doesn’t believe you. He knows you probably just don’t want to talk about it right now.

“I’m going to get started on dinner, okay?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Your response comes out quicker than you intended.

Eliot frowns and eventually asks, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

You feel your stomach clench in protest at your response. You just don’t have the energy to deal with eating. 

“Okay, alright. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

He slowly closes the door and you sigh.

Part of you feels bad for lying to him, but you’re so drained from the week it intimidates you thinking about having to explain yourself when you don’t even know what’s going on in your own mind. You want to comfort yourself in some way and have some sort of routine but you can’t decide what to do and it’s driving you crazy. You feel lost, both in the short and long term. 

You have been thinking of where your professional life is going, the endless chores and errands, and the state of the world that you’re constantly being bombarded with on social media. You feel hopeless and nothing in your everyday life is helping you get out of it. 

There’s been no specific trigger to your emotions, and you suspect that is the biggest stressor for you. It all started during your commute to work in the morning. You couldn’t choose music to play for the life of you and ended up resigning yourself to a quiet drive in order to not be running late.

During your lunch break you decided to visit one of your favorite cafes nearby. When you walked in and started to run through the different options on the menu, your mind went blank. Nothing seemed remotely appetizing, not even your usual favorite. When the barista called you over to order next, you panicked and ended up choosing the first option you saw. It was only afterwards that you realized what you had ordered and ended up doing a walk of shame back to your workplace. You drank the drink hastily to not have it go to waste, but it was a chore nevertheless.

During your commute back home, in silence once again, you encountered many terrible drivers and the closer you got to home, the more your mood soured. 

Upon entering your living space, the reminders of future chores and errands that needed to be done were enough of a nuisance to send you surrendering into your bedroom. 

Now a few hours later, here you still are. Your mind barely registers the now dark room and now you understand why Eliot seemed so concerned.

You distinctly register the sound of pots and pans and remember Eliot’s cooking. Almost on cue, your phone appears with a video of a delicious looking recipe and your stomach grumbles.

Using every ounce of energy you have left, you put your phone down. Your eyes stare up at the ceiling. Your mind is racing but hardly any of the thoughts are concrete or discernable. You just want a distraction, some way to lose control.

You sigh and sit up in your bed. Your back and neck protest from your previous position and you groan slightly. You don’t want to talk much tonight, but you figure you can try your best.

You make a quick trip to the bathroom before slowly continuing to the kitchen. Eliot is playing some old country music softly, the soft ambience and cooking sounds soothing you almost instantly. The overhead light isn’t on, just the stovetop, and you are extremely grateful. The smells pull you in further and your feet are moving before you can stop them.

Eliot turns at the sound of your approach.

“Hey, darlin’.” he greets softly.

“Hi.”

“I know you said you weren’t hungry, but I’m making your favorite. Didn’t want the food to go bad.”

Eliot sounds very unsure of himself at the moment, and it throws you off a bit.

“Thank you.”

He follows your lead of the conversation and doesn’t push you further. His attention returns to the pan and you watch attently as his hands add more ingredients.

“Go on and have a seat. It’s almost ready.”

You wish you could thank him more verbally, but you hope he knows your appreciation runs deep.

You stroll over and sit at the dining table, watching his back and the way he moves in the space. After a while, he plates and strolls over to you. 

“Here you go, baby. I hope you like it.”

You nod and gingerly start to handle your utensils. He eventually sits and you both enjoy the peaceful environment. Once you’ve both finished, he picks up your plates and cleans off the dining table. He surprises you by turning the stovetop light off and heading to the living space. At your confusion, he holds both of your coats up.

“I think we should go get dessert.”

You smile and nod. You stand from your chair and meet him in the space. He gently turns your body and clothes your body with the coat. You can tell by his body language he wants to touch you, but is unsure. Your hands reach out and wrap around his middle, making him reciprocate. His chin settles on the top of your head and he sighs heavily in contentment.

You both pull away after a few moments and head out the door shortly thereafter. You find yourselves sitting on a park bench enjoying your favorite desserts. The park is calm, and the surrounding area holds little to no people. The fresh nighttime air has allowed your mind to come back to the present and you feel refreshed, even if it is just a little bit. 

You return to your home afterwards and now you are able to look at your space in a different perspective. Eliot takes both of your coats off and hangs them up. He leads you to the couch and has you settle yourself before retreating into the hall. You are confused until you see him return with a basket of your self care items that you keep organized. 

He sits next to you and hands you your favorite face mask and headband. You put your headband on and are about to stand when Eliot takes the mask from you.

“Here, turn around.”

You do, and your heart flutters as he places the face mask on you. He adjusts it a few times before leaning away and nodding. To your surprise, he moves in closer and hands another one to you with another headband. It takes you a few seconds to realize he’s asking you to do the same. Your chest warms, and you will your hands to move. You take your time, relishing in touching his face and gazing softly into his eyes. Once you finish, you lean back and giggle softly. He smiles, holding your hands. 

“Now we match,” he says.

“Yes we do.” you whisper.

Eliot isn’t the biggest fan of watching tv, but he scrolls through different options until settling on an old animated children’s movie. You both move into each other’s spaces and find comfortable positions. Slowly, you feel yourself drifting into a peaceful state. His hands on your body and his warmth are steadily inducing you into a sleepy mood.

He catches your body’s signals and pats your side softly.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.” he whispers.

You wish to prolong your night, but you find yourself agreeing nonetheless.

He stands and accompanies you to the bathroom. Together, you prepare for bed and fall into your usual separate  routines. You are in bed first, too tired to follow your more thorough nighttime routine. Eliot joins you soon after, his arms caressing you. 

You decide to speak your thoughts before falling asleep. You hope your true feelings and emotions shine through your exhaustion.

“Thank you for everything. Thank you for taking the decisions away and just letting me…I don’t know, just be. I don’t know what’s wrong, but this helped. To just be.”

You stay in silence for a few beats, not expecting a response. You are glad you were able to express your thoughts, even if you don’t exactly know how to explain them.

“I’ll always be here for you. Just tell me, I’m always happy to just be with you. You don’t need to think or talk, you can just be with me. That’s all I need, just you. Nothing else.”

You squeeze him a little tighter at his words, and they allow for your body to finally slip into sleep fully, able to just be.

[abiiors]

OMG HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE!! 💖💖 also maybe for the bday concepts: matty buying u this rlly pretty set of lingerie and asking you to wear it under your dress when he takes u out on bday dinner, but THEN he has all these filthy thoughts in his head cuz he KNOWS whats under the pretty dress so he gets impatient and smth happens under the table or maybe when they are done with dinner and are back home🥰

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

THANK YOUUU (ik i'm replying to this a two days late but we will pretend otherwise!) smut-ish, so minors stay away

he has spent so much time visualising you in this set now that he actually, for one moment, considers ripping off your dress as you put on your perfume and some finishing touches. on the outside, you're in a beautiful silk dress with a sweetheart neckline that has the perfect plunge. it hits your mid thighs and makes your legs look a mile long; the perfect combination of classy and sexy but he knows underneath it, you're wearing a deep red revealing lingerie set that he selected so carefully over a number of days and now as you slightly bend to pick up your shoes off the floor, he catches a flash of red that is almost enough to drive him insane. and yeah, he does wonder if dragging you back to the bedroom is a good idea but your phone chimes with a text just then; your best friend telling you that she's leaving which means you need to leave too so you can both reach the restaurant at the same time. and just like that you're holding his hand and excitedly tugging him out the door and into the car. so like the gentleman that he is, he opens the door for you and tries to subtly...adjust himself.

anyway the restaurant is very beautiful, a place you've been wanting to go to for months and you finally let matty use his celebrity privileges to get you a reservation (not that he was going to listen to you otherwise). now that you're actually here, everything is so exciting and fun so you quickly settle down and start thinking about what you want to eat, completely unaware of what's going on in matty's head at that exact moment.

he has not stopped thinking about that small flash of red for the last 20 minutes. his hands hover so close to your thigh, simply waiting and wanting to feel the soft skin he has touched a thousand times now. the sweet breathy moans he would elicit at the barest touch of his fingers; hands dragging up, up, up, and legs parting to make space for him where he fits so perfectly. but first he would take his time ripping apart the pretty red thing with his teeth, with his hands, hear all your whines and pleads before giving you exactly what you want and more. he almost groans at the thought, the feel of you clenched around him is so familiar, your sweet taste on his tongue that he craves every single minute of the day.

'...matty? babe are you listening to me?' it's only when you click your fingers in front of his face that he realises that you've been trying to get his attention for a full minute now. your best friend and her date look at him with some degree of concern but they quickly go back to scanning their menus once he smiles at you sweetly. 'i asked if i should try the chicken or the fish,' you repeat and he has to actually clear his throat before he can answer. and then like a pathetic, horny teenager he wonders if he should go into the bathroom right now so he can do something about the ache between his legs. or...he could...

a soft gasp, just like he predicted in his head, as soon as he drags the hem of your dress to the apex of your thighs. your legs were already crossed but now you clench them tighter as he draws patterns with his calloused fingers. 'what are you doing?' you mumble just loud enough for him to hear while you pointedly study your menu. he doesn't answer, doesn't stop; he keeps moving his fingers inward, right towards your covered slit, so very close to the ache that's starting to form there. a swarm of butterflies erupts in your stomach as you think of how public this is, what if people can see? what if they can tell just from your faces. and although he looks all cool and nonchalant, you're sure your face is bright red. all thoughts fly out the window when his fingers tap your covered clit, just once but enough to send shockwaves through your whole body.

the server comes back, and the other couple gets busy placing their orders and asking questions while matty whispers right into your ear, 'how can i focus on food when all i want to do is bend you over right here?' a sharp intake of breath from you while he moves his hand to the nap of your neck, fingers slowly dragging over your pulse point, smirking at how fast it is just under your skin until you place a hand on his thigh and lean into him. 'i heard they have nice bathrooms...' and now it's his turn to swallow roughly as he quickly starts thinking of all the excuses he can give for you both going to the bathroom at the same time.

'you alright, love?' your friend's voice shocks you out of your thoughts and matty's hand stills in place. 'you look a bit red, are you too hot?' you almost choke at her words and quickly shake your head, no, just feel like i might combust... but you don't say the words that are on the tip of your tongue.

'actually, darling,' matty pipes up and then gives his most normal smile to the other two, 'i wanted to introduce you to the chef...she's my friend. how about we go say hi while we wait for the food?'

your friend rolls her eyes affectionately, such a celebrity, she must be thinking but you almost jump up at the opportunity and squeak out a yes. matty, ever the gentleman, has a hand on your lower back as he guides you around the table and makes sure to brush against you just enough, then whispers a quick, 'be a good girl for me and be quiet, we don't wanna get thrown out. the chef isn't actually my friend,' to which you laugh and try to leave the dining room with as much dignity as possible while you're on your way to fuck in the bathroom like horny teenagers.

[firsttrust]

Coconutbattery macbook air

#Coconutbattery macbook air serial number

#Coconutbattery macbook air update

#Coconutbattery macbook air full

is not able to send / receive the correct read out and updated information, but that was pure speculation.ġ. The actual repair facility tech who helped me swap the battery and replaced the DMC (?) suggested that the issue might be that the batteries are newer tech than the High Sierra operating system, and as such H.S. Spoke to a half dozen local Apple technicians as well as several Apple Care Senior (Tier 2) folk, and literally NO ONE has any idea why this is happening nor have any of them seen this set of issues before.

#Coconutbattery macbook air serial number

Except that Same INCORRECT Battery Cycle Count and the mAh Charge Numbers all of which STILL are showing the number from the Old Dead Battery even though the Serial Number of the New Battery and other information is showing “properly”….?!?!? To make matters Even More Weird, we ran the “MRI” panel of tests from Apple, and overall everything checks out great…. We even tried TWO (a second) New Batteries - same result.

#Coconutbattery macbook air update

The computer started right up, and holds a charge.įor some insane reason, while the battery now works somewhat properly, both the System Report AND Coconut Battery are ONLY showing the information from The Old Dead Battery, and neither will update to the NEW Battery Information under any circumstances! Tried resetting PRAM, SMC etc. The small circuit board where the Mag-Safe plugs in (the “DMC”?) was also replaced. We replaced the battery completely as many above suggested. UPDATE, Semi-Repair, Weird Residual Problems…. MacBook not recognizing battery, not even in coconutbattery very similar problems to this FixIt post, but I am not skilled enough to open the case: If I open About This Mac / System Report, it says this about the battery: Its as though that extra "5 hours of extra drain time" after it hits zero % has DAMAGED the laptop’s ability to even recognize what should be a perfectly good battery! I even reinstalled the whole operating system…. Starting from an external drive shows the same problem - no sign of the battery even when running from an external boot attached via USB (External Start Up Disk). Disk First Aid did nothing and says it’s “All Fine” (NOT). SMC reset could only be tried with power cable in (did not help), further PRAM reset did nothing, Mag-Safe power cable always has the orange light, and if power cable is detached the computer dies immediately. But then I closed it for a few hours and when I reopened it the problem was back and now worse than ever. I tried to reset the PRAM and it acted normal ONCE and charged up to 92% and CoconutBattery showed that normal 4000 amp capability, and about 690 cycles. CoconutBattery now shows empty fields where text should be, as though there is no battery to discuss? "Show Battery In Menu" (System Preferences / Energy Saver) literally will not work - you check it and it un-checks itself. Before this CoconutBattery showed ~4000 Amps out of the OG 4600 available, and the cycle count was only ~690. I did the recalibration because I was only getting 3-4 hours on a charge.

#Coconutbattery macbook air full

When I returned to the laptop after the full 5+ hour post-0% power drain (second to last step), the battery is ABSOLUTELY NOT RECOGNIZED.

[pinkt3aa]

date day

bruce wayne x fem! reader ♡

contains-angst if you squint, 881 words

“M’lady I’m glad to see your planning out things for you and master Bruce to do for a date, but when is Master Bruce going to find the time to do these things exactly?” Alfred asked fixing up some tea for you in the kitchen

Letting your head fall on the table you let out an exasperated sigh, “you’re right Alfred just we haven’t been on a date in weeks it’s driving me insane”

“Very true” he spoke placing the tea beside you, “you two must have a talk about this. Ive raised Bruce since he was a little boy but he should at least have some common courtesy”

“You know Alfred you’re one of my best friends” you chuckled

— —

Later into the day your mind thought of all the ways you should approach Bruce. Should you be rude about it? No, or maybe you should be understanding about it. After all he was the one saving the city at night.

As the bed dipped with your tired boyfriend, you were awake. Still with your eyes closed you pretended to be asleep as he pecked your forehead with a kiss of affection. Wrapping his arm around your waist he grumbled a ‘goodnight’ closing his eyes.

“When are we going to go on a date?”

Opening his eyes he raised his eyebrow at the random question.

“The last time we went on a date was a month and a half ago Bruce”

“tell me when and we’ll go on another” he spoke wanting to close his eyes so badly but fighting off his sleep to hear what you have to say

“Than let’s go on one today! Or tomorrow how ever you take it since it’s 5 in the morning” a smile gracing your lips at the good news

“I have work” and your smile was gone.

“Can’t the city stay one night without Batman? If anything you have locals saying on the news that the poor guy needs a break” you huffed turning away from him and shut your eyes

— - —

Propping yourself out of bed you put your slippers on and went downstairs, ready to tell Alfred all about it. It being the afternoon since you were never an early riser the smell of lunch followed you on the way to the dining room.

This time walking to the table an unexpected person sat in one of the seats with their head faced in front and away from you. With hair you could only match with Bruce.

Coming up behind him you put your hands over his eyes in a playful manner, “guess who?”

“Y/N”

“Correct ding ding ding!” removing your hands off his eyes and kissing his cheek and than sitting in the chair beside him.

“I never see you in the morning so I’m guessing your giving being the Batman a rest for today” you smiled.

“Yup” he said smiling just a little to see you happy to be spending time with him.

“You here that Alfred! I got myself a date today!!”

After lunch you wasted no time putting on your best outfit and ushering you both out the house. The first place on your bucket list was a cafe. No normal cafe though. A batman themed cafe!

Which shocked you the first time you heard about it. Who would make a whole cafe based on a hero? But after taking a look of the picture reviews of the place you just had to try it with Bruce.

The second you arrived at the cafe Bruce chuckled at the blown up character float of his second disguise outside the place. Hooking your arm in his you smiled at him as you both entered the small cafe.

“Hello! Just two for today?” The teenage behind the front desk asked picking up to menus as you nodded

Following her to a booth your smile grew seeing the pillows had a Batman covering on them. “Okay I’ll be back in a little bit to give you guys to time to look over the menu” she said before ushering off to the front desk

“A Batman cafe?”

“Yup! Now let’s look at the menu” picking it up to scan your eyes over it

“Bat boy latte art?” Bruce questioned seeming rather interested in the drink

“That seems tasty I’m probably to get the Batman bum scrum made with Batman booty kicker it says here” you giggled pointing at the menu

The restaurants names for certain drinks or food made you giggle while there. Even making Bruce have a small smile at the ridiculous names. No doubt though the food was enjoyable.

“Before you guys go could I please get a picture with the both of you” your waiter asked nervously holding up her phone

Nodding you stood closer to Bruce to make room for her as she held up her phone in a selfie position. While she counted down from three you stuck up two fingers behind Bruce’s head like bunny ears and smiled. The young girl was quick to thank you smiling giddily.

Walking to his car hand in hand you paused making him look toward you confused. Smiling at him you pulled him in for a loving kiss, “I’m glad you took off work today”

[dourpeep]

how about DOM! Diluc and Xiao (separate please) with a female reader (I would love to ask if you could make her plus size but I fully understand it you dont) and its a case of reader has been teasing him all night and he now has her alone and he isnt gonna let how worked up she got him go to waste and she knew her plan has gone well as this is what she wanted.

I won't write plus size for the sake that I've not a clue of how to but the rest I can surely do!! I default to soft dom for both of these boys—I hope that this is to your liking!! :>

(Actually looking through this again, and they’re not so soft)

(if anyone has suggestions please let me know what you'd like to see in a plus size-centric reader and I'll see from there!)

Get What You Get

Summary: You get what you deserve ;> Features: Diluc and Xiao (seperate)

Contains: ((NSFW 18+)) dom!Diluc x afab!reader, dom!Xiao x afab!reader, (Diluc) teasing, bar sex, ooo he angy, clothed sex, bondage, (Xiao) teasing, xiao gets worked up easily hehe

Diluc

It started with a few innocent kisses.

Tonight, it's slow at Angel's share, Diluc carefully buffing out the water stains left behind after washing glasses. Unlike most nights, there's only a handful of patrons, passed out or too drunk to really notice much. With each press of lips to his cheek and shoulder, his smile grows just a bit wider.

"Is there a special occasion, love?" He leans in and returns the affection.

You shake your head and he turns back to his work. Suddenly, an idea pops into your head. Watching the way your unassuming lover works, you lean in and brush your chest against his arm, hand lingering close to his waist. Your other hand reaches to rest against his bare forearm, fingers squeezing gently.

"Diluc-" Your touch trails up a vein.

The muscles in his forearm tense only for a moment before he starts working again.

Another kiss finds itself on his shoulder while the hand on his waist trails over his hip to barely brush against his lower back. Keen as ever, he catches on. Crimson eyes flicker over across the bar through the tavern, making contact with each remaining customer. Voice low, he whispers.

“Not now.”

For the time being, you pull away, satisfaction filling you as his shoulders relax.

The little game of not-so-innocent brushes and sweet whispers continues well into the next hour, ending with you slipping past him to “help” grab another rag from the drawer, your ass brushing up against the hardness trapped beneath his slacks. To your surprise, two strong hands grip your hips and keep you pressed to him.

A surge of panic alerts you to look around.

Oh. It appears that it’s just the two of you left in the tavern.

Hot puffs of breath slide over the skin of your neck, exposed to his lips and sensitive. Diluc breathes in your scent and rolls his hips against yours to remind you of the current problem at hand.

“Misbehaving all night, purposely teasing me despite the customers...”

Diluc speaks slowly with his lips touching your skin, voice dangerously low. A rush of warm spreads through you.

“Luckily for you, I’ll make an exception.”

Just a little nudge is all it takes to get you to bend over the countertop.

“Would you like to try the secret menu?”

If you weren’t so aroused by the man behind you, you’d laugh. Yet he pushes against you, broad chest to back, keeping you right where he needs you.

His tongue traces up along your neck and makes you shiver, a contrast to the cold wood you grab at. A gasp of his name leaves you breathless.

Deft fingers undo the button of your slacks, guiding the fabric off your hips to pool at your knees. The metal clicking that follows must be his belt.

It falls uselessly to the ground with a thunk.

Next, his ascot follows. You wiggle against him during this idle moment. He gives a warning squeeze to your thigh. Right as you reach behind you to touch him, your wrists are held together.

The silky touch of fabric secures them.

“You have already proven your determination...”

Your heart stutters.

“Well then...”

More sounds of fabric shifting fill the silence and the sudden sensation of hard heat press to your exposed entrance gives a rush of need.

“It is now time for you to witness my resolve.”

Xiao

Both fortunately and unfortunately, Xiao flusters easily. The brush of your hand against his is enough to turn the tips of his ears red, a peck on the cheek and he's turning away to hide his face. Yet here you are, head laying in his lap while enjoying the mid afternoon sun.

The chatter of people below fills the gaps between the rustling of trees and accompanying chirps. Up here on the balcony, you can see nearly all of Liyue.

Xiao fiddles with a bright yellow leaf, watching the way it twirls between his fingers. His other hand lays joined with yours on your stomach.

When you bring his hand up to your face, you feel the way his attention is on you. When your lips carefully brush the fabric over his knuckles, you look up coyly at his blush.

“What are you doing?”

His accusatory tone makes you smile, and you press another kiss to his knuckle to watch him bristle.

“Holding your hand.”

If it wasn’t the yaksha you were looking at, you’d almost say he was pouting. After appreciating the way he tries to turn his attention back to his leaf, you place your hands back to rest on you.

Night begins to fall and paints the sky in an array of colors. Anytime now, the moon would make its appearance. The breeze has died down for the night, yellow leaves no longer dancing around the two of you.

Still, you both sit in the same position.

You brush up along his thigh, or at least whatever you can reach that’s not currently covered by your head. Leg twitching, Xiao steels himself. Amber gaze flickering to you, he notes the poorly concealed attempt at hiding your suspicion.

“You—”

He startles when there’s a gentle pressure against his lower abdomen. Your lips press against his side, head turned just enough to reach. The air suddenly feels too thick for him.

Another kiss makes it too thin.

“Ngh—”

Already he’s thickening beneath you, abruptly standing up, glad that his day-to-day wear provides ample coverage. He’s restless, flighty, and readies himself to burn off this newfound energy fighting somewhere far, far, far from the inn.

Until he looks back and sees the way you’re kneeled on the ground, gaze lifted to meet his. Already he’s reminded of his predicament.

In a flash, he gathers you in his arms and brings you to his room.

It’s dark inside, neither of you bothering to turn on a light. His eyes glow bright. From your place on the bed, you watch him cover over you, arms caging you against the soft surface. Your heart beats erratically in your chest.

“You drive me insane.”

With a clash, your lips collide, melding together as he drinks in your moans. His hips slot between yours and, when you lift your hips just so, wetness seeps through the thin fabric that gives him the feeling he craves.

“These mortal...” He nips at your neck. “Urges..”

Xiao only pulls away enough to strip himself of his clothing and you of yours, the useless fabrics decorating the far edge of the bed.

Naked and chest heaving, he presses into you and you finally melt under his touch.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

mr. worst cup

CollegeBarista!Jaemin x Reader

summary: Jaemin messes up your order and in turn messes up any chance at any sort of relationship with you (or so he thinks)

word count: 4.3k

A/N: I really hope you guys like it! 

Taglist! @eggbutnotyolk​

Mornings, Jaemin hated them. Yes, that was beyond cliche, but it was the truth. Especially right now. At approximately 7 am, Jaemin also hated being awake, Jeno, being cold, people, Jeno again, and work. 

Jaemin and Jeno both worked at a cafe near campus where Jeno worked the morning shift, had time for a quick workout, then went to school, all because he enjoyed mornings. On the other hand, Jaemin hated mornings, so he slept in, went to class in the afternoon for a few hours, and then came to work in the evenings. It was a schedule that just worked for the both of them, no downsides- usually.

But Jaemin was not in the comfort of his bed, dreaming, drooling, and snoozing away like he could have been this morning. No, he was working Jeno’s shift because Jaemin was the best friend on the planet and he would do anything for Jeno anytime Jeno wanted- no. Jeno had woken up with a high fever and a sore throat, and it was easier to wake Jaemin, his roommate, to ask for him to cover his shift than to text another coworker. Anything for the health of the general public, gag, Jaemin hated how nice Jeno was sometimes.

So after opening at a bright and early 6:45, helping only one customer in the 45 minutes that he had been open, Jaemin was starting to feel that anger from being up so early. He should have some coffee to give himself energy and help with the anger, but his brain just couldn’t seem to send the signals to his limbs to make him move. His eyes were locked on all the empty tables and chairs of the cafe, tables and chairs that were always filled during his normal evening shift. The emptiness paired with the godforsaken jazz song playing over and over and over again were driving him insane. After a five-minute war between his mind and body, he got to work making a drink for himself. His specialty iced americano with his precious eight shots of espresso. His priceless, liquid gold. He was so concentrated while making his drink that he didn’t even hear the door open to reveal his second customer of the day. 

“Oh my god, Jeno! Eight shots?” He heard a voice exclaim. “Oh, you’re not Jeno, I’m so sorry.”

“Just a minute please, I’ll be right with you,” Jaemin replied. 

He couldn’t keep you waiting forever, so he set his prepared drink aside and made his way to the customer at the counter. Oh, this cute customer. He quickly turned to the register, asking you for your order with a polite smile.

“Just a medium iced caramel latte with almond milk, double the caramel drizzle, and an extra shot please.” You recited your order.

He nodded, took the money, and began working on your order, but unfortunately, his mind was not on your order. He just wanted a sip of his coffee, for the energy to kick in. His body was craving it, the taste, the energy that would make him feel normal, like a human. He could have gotten a quick sip in if the bell over the door hadn’t distracted him. Another customer, same routine: smile, I’ll be right with you, finish one drink, new drink to make. He distractedly reached for the cup on the counter, calling out your name before turning to the new customer. 

You approached the counter hesitantly, this did not look like your drink. The bell over the door sounded again and again as you hesitantly reached for the drink that was supposedly yours. You could just ask him to remake your drink, but the line was getting longer with the morning rush beginning and you had to get to class soon. That and you would feel awful asking him to waste supplies to make a simple drink again. 

Okay, you reassured yourself, hopefully, this wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe this barista just makes it differently, much differently, than Jeno does. You grabbed the drink and a straw, calling out a “thank you” as you walked out of the cafe. Stopping beside a trash bin you unwrapped the straw and took a sip of the pitch-black drink. Your face scrunched up in disgust, you could barely fight back the urge to spit out the coffee, no matter how hard your body was screaming at you to get it out.. You could not bring yourself to even look at the poison in hand so you tossed it into the bin, what a sad waste of money and his work. 

The next morning you walked in a little later, as your first class of the day had gotten canceled. You joined the line, looking at the menu because you could not and would not order your usual today. Normally you wouldn’t have to look at the menu, Jeno knew how to make your drink perfectly, but Jeno was not there. The take on your drink yesterday had scarred you, perhaps a hot tea today. 

“Hello, the caramel latte again today?” The same barista from yesterday asked. Where the hell was this guy getting “again” from?

You smiled almost apologetically with a hint of apprehension, “No thank you, just a mint green tea with honey please.”

He nodded, tapping away on the tablet, taking your money, and getting straight to work. The bell over the door became the background noise as the rush of professionals and early risers came in for their morning caffeine fix. Jaemin looked at the clock quickly, just 10 minutes before another coworker would show up to help him, this rush was too crazy. He quickly stirred the honey into the cup, called your name, and got to the counter to continue taking orders. It was too bad he didn’t get to make more conversation or look at you longer. Not in a weird way, he felt like he had barely had a chance to even get a glance at you today.

You had barely made it on time to class, sliding into your seat just a minute before your professor walked in and began a quick review of your last class. You sat back with a sigh, taking a sip of your warm drink. 

Well, this was odd, your tea didn’t taste like tea at all. Maybe it was just the first sip? No, the next sip tasted like nothing but honey. Confused, you took the lid off the cup to take a look, only to be met with the sight of steaming water mixed with honey-no tea in sight. 

After class, you sent a quick text to your usual barista and friend, Jeno, to let him know that you had notes for him. Time to carry on with your day, sadly caffeine-free.

Jaemin had had no idea that he had messed your drinks up so badly. When he had given you his americano the rush had just come in so when he went to look for his drink later he had figured that his coworker had just accidentally tossed it. The second day, he could blame the rush again. He had haphazardly tossed a tea bag in the general vicinity of the cup before passing it in your direction. So it came as a surprise to him that for the rest of the week that he covered Jeno’s shift, the cute customer that came in right before the rush, that would be you, had stopped coming in. It was a shame, but he could continue on with his life with little to no regret. Maybe he would see you again or maybe another customer would catch his eye. There was no use in dwelling on something he had no control over or wasting time letting his mind run wild with anxious thoughts of why you hadn’t come back.

That was until he came home one day a week later to find Jeno on a loud call. Jeno smiled and quickly mouthed to Jaemin that he was on the phone with a friend. “Jeno, I’m telling you. That was the worst coffee I have ever tasted. Never in my life have I had a drink that could be used to run a car. I just don’t understand how you could mess up a caramel latte that bad.” He heard. 

Caramel latte? The voice sounded familiar but he was hopeful that maybe, just maybe it wasn’t you. 

“And the next day, god Jeno, I ordered a tea because I was so nervous to order a coffee and all I got was hot water, then I stopped going until you went back.” It was you, This was the worst-case scenario and it was you, the cute customer that he had developed a tiny, little crush on. He tried to remember how he had made your orders, and he swore he made them the way he asked. But how was he supposed to remember anything correctly when he was up before 10 every day and coming in contact with a hundred people?

“Yeah, I can do Friday morning, see you then.” Had Jaemin missed the rest of the conversation? It seemed so.

“So Mr. Makes the Worst Cup of Coffee, how was your day?” Jeno smirked.

Jaemin scoffed, “We don’t even know if it was me.”

Jeno burst out laughing immediately going to explain that those were the days that he was sick while Jaemin yelled over him stating that perhaps, perhaps, it was another barista you were talking about. But they both knew that no one else that worked in the cafe drank anything nearly as strong as Jaemin’s iced americano. Jaemin sighed having clearly lost the argument, “How do you know them anyway?”

“We’re the same major,” Jeno answered with a simple shrug. Maybe it wasn’t too late for a change in major.

This customer was so close to home and he had somehow ruined one of the things he prided himself on. He was so proud of his barista abilities, it was a passion of his. Customers constantly came back for his drinks specifically, left him tips (for his drinks or looks- he didn’t care), asked when Jaemin would be back on his days off, and he had gotten employee of the month a few times. 

After that night, you had not left Jaemin’s mind. It was like all he could think about was you. When he saw Jeno, every day, he wondered if Jeno had seen you. When he woke up every morning he remembered that you were up early, bright-eyed and ready to take on the day. At work, he constantly wondered if maybe you would come in and order something. Walking across campus he wondered if he maybe had a class in the same buildings as you. At this point, it was no longer a little crush on the cute customer that came in twice a couple weeks ago, it was a crush on a friend of a friend, someone that he could actually potentially meet one day. 

Maybe he could run into you on campus, leaving the library after studying so hard that he could offer to buy you a cup of coffee. There could be a party soon that the two of you would magically bump into each other at where he could blow you away with his bartending skills. It was such a weird thing for Jaemin to experience, imagining what might be with someone he didn’t know beyond being a customer. He had been in relationships before but never had there been a person that consumed his every thought. 

Granted the day after the call, Jaemin did feel a little- or really a lot of anger towards you saying he made the worst cup of coffee that he did actually let his anger fuel his day. He was flipping violently through textbooks, punching away at the keys on his computer, nearly ripping through sheets of paper with the pressure of his pencil. He didn’t like this feeling, he had to remind himself to calm down and take deep breaths. No one had ever made him feel this angry, if it was even anger that he was feeling or maybe just sadness poorly masked as anger. That made much more sense, it really did pay off to have taken that psychology class his first semester.

You had become so involved in every part of Jaemin’s day that he just wondered if in this very moment he was imagining you walking out of Starbucks while he sat at a red light on a sunny Friday morning. Had his mind become so powerful that he could now make things and people appear out of thin air? He hadn’t tried that since he was a kid, but maybe he had just become more powerful. It couldn’t be you though right? He knew there was no way he had super powers, but there was also no way it actually was you, it would be the biggest coincidence. He rolled down the passenger side window, leaning closer to the sidewalk where you were walking towards the parking lot and gasped when he realized that his imagination was in fact, not playing tricks on him, it really was you. 

“Are you cheating on us?!” He screeched. Uh oh, he wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. The stupid mermaid was just staring at him mockingly, he couldn’t stop himself from saying it. It was the worst word vomit he had ever experienced. 

You stopped and squinted trying to look at who had just yelled at you, lucky for you Jaemin was still in shock from actually yelling that he was frozen still with a hand clasped over his mouth. Yup, that would be the person that yelled. You looked him dead in the eye and took a long sip of the drink in hand. “Tastes better than yours.” You cheekily called back. 

Jaemin’s jaw dropped, he was so ready to defend his barista title, his locally-owned cafe, but the car behind him seemed to think the opposite thanks to its incessant honking because the light had been green for more than 10 seconds. Once again, you had plagued his thoughts, not necessarily in a good way though. You had betrayed him-no, you hadn’t but he was dramatic.

He could at least spend some time away from you, it’s not like he saw you out in public very often, ever saw you on campus, or came in during his shift. He was lost in his thoughts as he walked through the door to his apartment. He heard Jeno laugh, then a new voice. Very odd, but he put on a smile and reminded himself to be polite. 

“Hi- oh you,” Jaemin said. 

“Nice to finally meet you properly, please don’t yell at me again.” You smiled playfully. 

Jeno’s eyes widened comically in shock, immediately interrogating Jaemin. Why would Jaemin think it’s okay to yell at someone he doesn't know? Much less one of Jeno’s friends. Jaemin really did try to defend himself, but every time he tried to make a point it just didn’t make sense. He sounded so stupid. “I am so sorry about him.” Jeno apologized, elbowing Jaemin’s rib. 

“I’m sorry too, it was inappropriate and rude of me to yell at you.” Jaemin recited. This was not the first time he had had to apologize for yelling at someone in public. 

You waved the both of them off, “I was messing around, it’s nice to match a name to a face.”

Jaemin made his way to his room like a scolded child while you and Jeno returned to the screens in front of you, already typing away before the bedroom door even shut. Jaemin made a promise to himself that he would stay in his room until you left. There was no way that he would go out there and risk even more embarrassment in front of you, not just the customer he had a small crush on but the innocent pedestrian he yelled at that very morning. His mind was swirling with regret and thoughts of how badly he had messed up any chance he had with you. He could not go out there and ruin any remaining chance of friendship or even acquaintanceship, or even risk you going to Starbucks every day and never going back to the cafe. Half an hour later he pulled a pillow over his face to muffle his groans, these thoughts were making him crazy, one groan from his throat and a rumble from his stomach. There was no way he could wait until you left now, he had to get food. 

Jeno looked up as the door opened, “Right on time, does chicken sound good for dinner?” 

Jaemin nodded, ready to turn back and relax on his bed but instead he lingered in his doorway. He ignored the nerves in his stomach and decided that the best decision as a host in his home would be to not leave you alone while Jeno called in the order. Even if he did think you were a little bit of a treacherous snake- from a business standpoint of course.

He cleared his throat, effectively grabbing your attention, “So uh, what are you guys working on?”

“Jeno and I are partners for a project in a communications class so we have to analyze a bunch of sources and then explain why the audience could interpret each source in different ways.” You answered simply with a shrug, as if you had just told him how to make toast. 

“Well that’s cool…”

It was now or never. He could talk to you now and clear the air in hopes of perhaps forming a friendship or he could stay quiet and try his best to enjoy the awkward environment. He let out a breathy, nervous laugh, drawing your attention back, “So I think I heard you say I make the, what was it? Oh, the shittiest cup of coffee you’ve ever had.”

Your eyes widened, “No, no, no! I didn’t say that exactly, I did say though, it was the worst coffee I ever had.” 

“How badly could I have messed up your order? So badly that you had to go to Starbucks apparently.” 

“I had ordered an almond milk caramel latte and received a coffee with not only no milk at all, so it wasn’t even a latte, but also no form of sweetness. On top of that, I had one sip at the beginning of the day that kept me awake and energized until midnight. And! You gave me tea with no tea. Surprisingly though, you are not the worst barista in the cafe.” You responded with a playful roll of your eyes.

Jaemin choked on his spit, “What do you mean? I remember the first day you came in while I was making my coffee… you got my coffee.” He dropped to his knees, “Forgive me, please.”

You threw your head back with a laugh, “Get up, I’ve already forgiven you. Jeno talks about you a lot, so I was actually looking forward to meeting you anyway, even if we did start off on not so great terms.”

“They said about 20 or 30 minutes, you good?” Jeno asked as he reentered the room.

You smiled with a nod, “We’re becoming the best of friends.”

Jaemin blushed, ready to get your attention off of him, “So, you said I don’t carry the title for worst barista.”

“Wait really? Who is it then, best to worst go!” Jeno exclaimed. 

“First, is your owner, Johnny, right? Man, he makes a delicious caramel latte, the best I have ever had. Next, I guess would be Ren-”

“Renjun?!” Jeno and Jaemin interrupted. 

“Well yeah, he’s super nice and added caramel syrup to the milk I think? Not sure, it was really good, and he added the cutest little drawing on my cup. You guys aren’t last or anything though, Haechan is.” You told them with a shudder.

You all burst out laughing as you recounted the time that Haechan had yelled at you while taking a phone order and ended up sliding a half filled, kids size cup of water across the counter with your name. Another time he was so busy flirting with another customer throughout the whole process of taking and making your order that he had given them your drink too and just given you a pastry instead. Jeno told you guys about a time that Haechan had poured coffee beans on the floor, not once or even twice, but three times in one four hour shift. Jaemin added his own story where Haechan had convinced a handful of customers that they were out of coffee until Johnny came in from the back with a bag of coffee beans. 

You all wiped the tears from the corners of your eyes as you tried to catch your breaths from laughing so hard. Jeno sat up when he heard a knock on the door. It was probably the delivery man. 

Jaemin looked over at you, a happy smile still on his face. “You know, I would really like it if I could actually make it up to you.”

“Free coffee?” You asked excitedly. 

He laughed awkwardly, “Uh no, I uh, um- I think you’re really... cool?”

“This is fucking painful. Jaemin thinks you’re cute and this is his lame attempt at asking you out on a date.” Jeno jumped in, setting the bag of food on the dining table. 

You flushed, immediately feeling hot, “I would actually really like that.”

The dinner was clouded with awkwardness, little glances here and there paired with a little conversation. Now that you both knew you at least kind of liked each other, and were interested in one another there was no way he could ruin his chance by saying something embarrassing. All the conversations were basic, surface-level, first day of class icebreaker, boring. What’s your major? What do you want to do with your major? What year are you? How long have you and your best friend since birth lived together?

“Maybe it was better when you hated each other, I can practically feel the tension.” Jeno sighed, reaching his hands forward to “grab” the tension. Maybe Jeno would eat his words when the sparks began flying after the first date, maybe. Yeah, probably.

-

BONUS

“I’ve had a really good time with you.” Jaemin smiled down at the ground. The blush on his cheeks was hot while your hand in his was warm. 

“I’ve had a great time with you too, you really made up for all your little mishaps.” You replied.

Jaemin laughed, “Which reminds me, I have to finally show you that I am in fact the best barista, ever. Would you mind if we stopped by the cafe?”

You shook your head, holding his hand tighter on the walk to the cafe. He held the door open for you and guided you towards an empty seat close to the counter so you could both still talk to one another. 

“Welcome! Oh, Jaemin was this your date? I’ve seen you here before right? I’m Johnny, the owner.” Johnny greeted with a smile. 

“Nice to meet you too, I love your cafe. Jaemin is making me a replacement drink since he ruined the first couple of drinks. He doesn’t have to, but he practically insisted.”

“And you didn’t call and complain? You must have really liked him.” Johnny laughed.

You couldn’t fight the heat creeping up your neck, so you quickly looked away from the owner standing in front of you to avoid more embarrassment. 

“Ah, I’ve never made you this nervous! Here is your iced caramel latte with almond milk.” Jaemin teased as he set the drink in front of you. He looked at you expectantly, awaiting your verdict.

You took a sip, pleasantly surprised with the familiar taste of your favorite drink. “It’s so good! Thank you.”

“Better than Johnny and Renjun?” Jaemin asked.

“Maybe stop the questions while you’re ahead buddy, there’s no way it could be better than mine. Hope to see you soon.” Johnny smirked as you both left. 

Jaemin pouted the whole way back to your apartment, you had to reassure him that it was so good that soon he would get sick of seeing your face around the cafe.

He stopped in front of your door, “I don’t think I could ever get sick of your face, so I would really like to take you out again.”

“I would really love that, goodnight Jaemin.” You smiled, pulling him in for a hug before making your way inside.

Jaemin smiled, stepped back from your door and slowly began to make his way home. Walking slowly as his thoughts were filled with date ideas, your face, and just how amazing you truly were. He was so in his head that he didn’t even realize you had come back out to see him again until he felt you tug on his wrist so he could face you. 

“Can I kiss you?” You asked breathlessly.

He smiled widely, nodding energetically as he placed a hand on your waist to pull you closer, inviting you to do as you please. Your hands came up to the nape of his neck, nervously playing with his hair before you finally pressed your lips to his own. A short but passionate kiss, it was like your lips were made for one another.

“I’ll see you soon, text me when you get home.” You told him bashfully, holding onto his hand until it eventually fell from the distance between you two. He agreed, locking eyes with you until you were out of his sight and there was no possibility of you ever leaving his mind. Sparks indeed.

[elentiyawhitethorn]

feysand blind date

Loving Every Second of It

Fluff//3010 words

Feyre wasn’t sure what she was expecting tonight.

Lucien had set her up on a blind date with a friend of a friend and there was no way it wasn’t going to end miserably. Maybe Feyre would say something stupid and he would think she was weird. Maybe he would decide she wasn’t pretty enough or her clothes weren’t nice or she was just boring. Maybe some other woman who was everything she would never be would catch his eye. Maybe—

“I really hope you’re not still imagining ways this will end poorly.”

Feyre frowned. “Seriously, Lu, this is a bad idea.”

Lucien elbowed her. “You said, and I quote, “I’m done being a lonely spinster who’s too busy regretting my life choices to get laid.” Therefore I, as the good friend I am, decided to get you a date. And consequently, laid. So stop being a bitch. If it doesn’t end well, at least you put yourself out there, right?”

She sighed. “If it doesn’t end well, I will have to endure the long-lasting humiliation and despair for the rest of my life. That’s not something I’m inclined to want.”

“The only reason I’m still here listening to your self-pity is because I know if I leave you’ll chicken out.”

“And because I’m your best friend?”

“Yeah, that too.”

Feyre scowled and crossed her arms. “You don’t say that very convincingly.”

Lucien just smiled and gave Feyre a peck on the cheek. “You’ll have a good time tonight. Just be yourself.”

“But what if he doesn’t like myself?”

“He will. Azriel has good taste in people, as evidenced by the fact that he’s dating me,” Lucien stated matter-of-factly.

Feyre rolled her eyes but allowed a small smile to cross her features. Azriel had only started dated Feyre’s best friend a couple weeks ago, and she’d met the man a handful of times. It was his friend, Rhys, she thought he’d said, that she would be going on a date with tonight.

“It’s time to go,” Lu told her.

Feyre blinked. “Already?”

“Yes, don’t pretend you haven’t been counting the seconds. You’re such a bullshitter.”

A mournful sigh was all she gave Lucien before heading to the door. They had agreed to meet at the restaurant, a fancy, but also homey, little place downtown.

“Wait.”

Feyre almost growled out loud. If Lucien kept distracting her, she was going to lose her nerve.

“I’m driving you to the restaurant.”

Feyre spun around. “What do you mean you’re driving me? I was about to walk out the door.”

Lucien crossed his arms. “Yes, but that still leaves you with dozens of opportunities to turn back around. I won’t risk it.”

Feyre narrowed her eyes, but reluctantly allowed him to take her. The drive was unpleasant—Feyre would never admit it to him, but Lucien had been right. Had she had the option, she would have turned around by the time they pulled up at the restaurant. Feyre’s hands were clenched into fists to keep them from shaking.

She tried to think when she had become so nervous about dates. It probably had something to do with Tamlin. Tamlin was a bastard who had ridiculed and scorned Feyre subtly enough during their relationship that Feyre had begun to think of herself as worthless, entirely unaware it was his fault. She’d dumped his sorry ass after she caught him in Feyre’s own fucking bed with Ianthe, a “friend.”

Yes, that was definitely the cause of Feyre’s anxiety. She was never excessively social or flirty, but she had at least been cool and collected, as many guys noticed. Or they used to, anyway. Now she was scared to go on a single gods-damn date.

“Are you going to get out of the car, or are we going to sit here all night?” Lucien’s dry voice cut into her thoughts.

Feyre glared at him, not deigning to give a response other than a raised finger (try and guess which one) and getting out. She closed the door and turned around, checking her phone for the time before turning it on silent. It was only a few minutes before six-thirty, so he may or may not be there already.

Taking a moment—and making sure Lucien had already driven off—Feyre smoothed out her dress apprehensively. She was wearing a plain blue dress suited for a special occasion, but still simple enough not to be too flashy. Had she misjudged what to wear? Should she have with something more stylish? Or maybe more revealing, showing off more of her legs or breasts?

And her makeup—was it too plain? Should she have chosen better earrings? Should she be wearing more jewelry? Were her flats too drab?

Feyre almost wished Lucien had stayed to make sure she made it in the restaurant. Steeling herself for the inevitable letdown that tonight would be, Feyre went inside.

Before she had a chance to look around, she nearly ran into a man waiting at the entrance.

“Oh, you’re pretty.”

The man raised an eyebrow.

Feyre blinked. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” She was blushing and cursing herself for her lack of a filter.

Although, who could blame her? The man was dark-skinned, violet-eyed, and muscled, with dark, tousled hair and strong cheekbones. He was wearing an insanely hot dress shirt with the sleeves—the fucking sleeves—rolled up, revealing tattooed forearms. Pretty was a bit of an understatement.

The man was grinning now. The bastard probably had a lot of women telling him he was pretty. Feyre kicked herself internally.

“Well, if it makes it better, I think you’re pretty too.”

Feyre’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. “Um, thanks. I should… I have a date… with um…” She trailed off, the man smirking all the while. And then she thought of something.

“You’re Rhys, aren’t you? I mean sure, there are plenty of other people here who could be Rhys, but I have the worst luck, and telling my date he’s pretty totally qualifies as bad luck. Fuck, I thought we’d at least make it to the table before I scared you away. Oh shit, I’m just making it worse now, aren’t I?”

Rhys, or the random guy Feyre was assuming to be Rhys, smiled. Not condescendingly or rudely in any way, just more of an amused expression. “I am Rhys. Which I think makes you Feyre?”

Feyre nodded sullenly.

“It takes more than a beautiful woman complimenting me to scare me away, don’t worry. Why don’t we sit down?”

Feyre’s face was crimson, she was sure of it. She hadn’t expected a compliment from him after that little incident. She tried to think of what Lucien would say right now. Don’t worry, it’ll be a fun story to tell your kids. Okay, not helping.

Trying to turn off her brain, admittedly without much success, Feyre nodded once more and let Rhys lead her over to a table by the window. It was mostly dark outside, so the choice of seating only allowed to give them some privacy as opposed to being in the middle of the room. Probably not a conscious choice on Rhys’ choice, but Feyre quite liked it.

He also pulled the chair out for Feyre to sit. What a gentleman.

Feyre awkwardly fumbled with the menu, trying not to stare at Rhys’ beautiful face.

“Have you been here before, Feyre?” So much for that.

She looked up. “No, I haven’t.”

“I’ve been a couple times. Of course you can get whatever you like, but I would recommend the braised pork. It was delicious.”

Feyre bit her lip. “It sounds good.”

The waiter came over just then and Rhys asked for the braised pork for himself, then Feyre said to make it two orders.

He left, and the pair was left in silence once more. “So, Rhys,” Feyre said, making an effort not to be entirely silent. “Tell me about yourself.”

He smiled. “I work as an architect. I like reading, sightseeing, and talking to interesting ladies. How about you?”

Feyre snorted. “I’m an artist. I like, well, painting I guess. And jogging. And talking to handsome men, I suppose I should say.”

Rhys full-on grinned. “Tell me about your work. Is it just paint, or other types of art?”

Feyre answered his question, and then a few more. She tried not to talk too much, not wanting to take over the conversation, but Rhys showed such a genuine interest in her passion that Feyre could help opening up. By the time the food arrived, he knew her style, her favorite colors to use, her methods of gaining inspiration, and her opinions on some classic pieces that Rhys seemed to know more than the average person about.

Then the waiter interrupted with their meal. Once everything was served and Feyre had already dug into the pork, which was even more delectable then Rhys had let on, he asked another question.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you decide to try out a blind date?”

Feyre finished chewing, using the time to think about how to answer his question properly. “I ended a bad relationship a few months ago, and I’ve been a bit lacking in confidence since then. I guess I’m just sick of spending my weekends alone. What about you?”

“I’ve been searching for a relationship for a while. I’m interested in the idea of spending my future with someone, so when Azriel suggested a date with you, I jumped at the chance.” Rhys seemed to reconsider his words. “Not that I would be spending my future with you, necessarily.” He paused. “I mean—”

“No, I get it,” Feyre cut in, not wanting to hear any more of this. “I’m not the type of person you want to be in a serious relationship with.” She had known all along. Rhys was charming and handsome and smart and funny and there was no reason he would want to spend his life with her of all people.

Rhys’ eyes widened. “No, not at all!” he exclaimed. “That came out wrong. I was only trying to take it back so as not to pressure you. I didn’t know how much you’d be okay with hearing me tell you how interested I was in you after saying I’m looking for a relationship.”

Feyre blinked, surprised to find that it hadn’t been a dismissal. Surprised at more than that. “Oh.”

Rhys smiled, the first signs of nervousness shining through his calm demeanor. “I like you, Feyre. We’ve only been talking for fifteen minutes, and already I like you. And I’m not getting too ahead of myself by claiming you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. Not nearly this soon; hell, I just met you. But I do think you should know what I’m looking for so we can end this before it goes too far. If you’re not ready for something like that, I mean.”

Feyre was stunned. Rhys not only liked her, but enough to tell her something like that?

“I hadn’t really thought that far ahead, but I like you too,” she replied. And she meant it. Rhys was really nice, and very intriguing. She hadn’t considered what she wanted past a date. After all, she had been positive he would diss her by the end of it. But Feyre sure as hell wanted something with this man.

Rhys almost seemed surprised. “I’m not asking for commitment or anything like that. Certainly not on the first date. But maybe you can think over that later, and we can finish dinner now?”

Feyre smiled, still processing his words. “Okay.”

They dug in. There was less conversation than before, both because Feyre was too busy letting out content groans at the taste of the food and from the lingering awkwardness. But they did start talking more toward the end, Feyre snorting into her hand as she heard the end of some ridiculous story Rhys was telling her. By the time the waiter came over and let them know the restaurant was closing now, they’d returned to an animated conversation.

From everything to Rhys’ work as an architect to gossip about Azriel and Lucien to current events and old movies and bad jokes, it had crossed the discussion. Rhys was an exceptional conversationalist.

Rhys pulled out a wallet, but Feyre said, “We can split it.”

He glanced over. “I’ve got it, darling. Consider it my treat.”

Trying to suppress a shiver at the new nickname, Feyre said, “Really, I can help out.”

“Persistent, aren’t you? Maybe I’ll let you buy me coffee next time.”

Feyre knew he was teasing; there was no doubt he would refuse to let her pay next time. He seemed like the kind of guy to insist. Still, Feyre was more than satisfied with hearing that there would be a next time.

Disappointed with the fact they had to leave, but definitely pleased with how the date had gone, Feyre stood. Rhys walked Feyre out in silence, the latter surprised to find how long they’d been chatting. The restaurant was almost empty.

Feyre pulled her phone out of her purse.

“No ride, darling?” Rhys had raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“No, my friend dropped me off. He was worried I would flee if he didn’t actually bring me here himself.”

Rhys grinned. “Would you have fled?”

“Probably,” Feyre admitted.

“Let me drive you home. No expectations,” he added hastily at Feyre’s expression. “Just so you don’t have to wait out here. It’s getting cold.”

“Alright,” she agreed, very appreciative.

She’d sent Lucien a text and he had shot back a message letting her know he would be on the way. Feyre swiftly sent another text.

nvm rhys is dropping me off

Then she followed Rhys over to his car, laughing when he opened the door for her with a bow. Feyre wished she was the one driving; it would have been easier to keep her eyes off of him if she had something to focus on.

“Am I really that pretty?” So he’d noticed.

Feyre scowled. “Shut up.”

Rhys chuckled and glanced over, then turned his eyes back to the road. “I had a really nice time tonight, Feyre.”

“Me too,” she said.

The only words passed between them after that were directions on how to find Feyre’s apartment, fairly close to the restaurant. They were a street over when Feyre pulled a scrap of a receipt out of her purse, as well as a pen—Lucien often made fun of her having everything in her purse, but it was useful—and wrote down her number. They parked and Rhys looked over.

“So you don’t have to contact me through Lucien next time,” she clarified, handing him the paper.

Rhys smiled and put the paper in his pocket.

“Thank you for the ride, Rhys.”

He frowned mockingly. “What kind of person do you think I am, darling? Didn’t you know the good guys walk their dates to the door?”

Feyre laughed and mumbled something, getting out. Rhys stepped out of the car as well. But Feyre was starting to get nervous that Rhys was expecting something from her. Tamlin always had, after all.

They reached Feyre’s door and she stopped. But before she could say goodnight, Rhys seemed to realize why she was so anxious. He was too observant for his own good.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Feyre. I didn’t walk you here because I required anything of you.”

She flushed. “It’s not that I thought you would, exactly, I guess it just… been a while since I’ve met a nice guy.”

Rhys looked very sympathetic. “I understand. And for you, Feyre, I couldn’t care less if you wanted to drag me in your apartment and have your way with me now or wait a year to so much as kiss me. You’re worth it.”

There was no way Feyre’s face at all resembled a normal color. Or her ears. Or her neck. Gods, she was positively reeling.

“Really?”

“I had fun with you,” was all Rhys said.

Feyre barely noticed herself leaning closer. “Maybe a goodnight kiss wouldn’t be so bad.”

Rhys’ lips twitched and he assessed the sincerity of the statement. He leaned in slowly, giving Feyre every chance to back away, before planting his lips softly on hers.

Feyre melted into the kiss, obsessed with the soft feel of his mouth. It only last a few seconds, and Rhys’ touch remained featherlight. He pulled back, grinning.

“Goodnight, Feyre.”

She leaned against the wall for support. She was probably swooning. “Goodnight.”

One last smirk was all she got before he turned and walked down the hall.

Making it into her apartment, Feyre tried to process what had happened.

She’d met the man and made a fool of herself. Still, he had been nice and showed an interest in her. Then he had said he desired a serious relationship with someone, and she was a good candidate. There had been some more startled deer-like behavior on her part and some more suaveness from him. Then he had been super gentlemanly about not expecting her to sleep with him.

Basically, he was all Feyre could have wished for—and then some.

Feyre groaned loudly, throwing one of her flats at the wall. Then the other. She wasn’t sure why she was angry. Probably just because she’d been so ridiculous tonight. Or maybe it was the pent-up up hormones.

Feyre glanced at her phone, saw about a dozen messages from Lucien telling her to have fun and “be safe.” She threw her phone on the couch and grumbled about what a nosy little asshole her best friend was.

Then she slumped to the floor.

Feyre was going to spend the rest of her life mooning over Rhys and making a fool of herself, she already knew it. And she was going to love every second of it.

Oh, she was screwed.

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen // @feysand-loml // @infernoqueen19 // @live-the-fangirl-life // @midsizewitch // @sleeping-and-books // @story-scribbler // @thebonecarver

[falloutjay]

Wait, you are my hero? - Kenny x Reader

This is my first ever published x Reader fanfiction ever and I tried my best.

Just as a disclaimer, its not fully proofread, so I am already sorry for that and English also isn’t my first language so sorry again. I hope you guys do enjoy it tho.

______________________________________

Kenny McCormick/Mysterion x Reader

You walked around South Parks nightlife district, the so called "SoDoSoPa" with your good friend Bebe, when you heard a loud sound from a few streets away. People were running and screaming, some were on their phone calling the police. Curiously, you ran towards the noise, like some others.

"YN, stay here! That's too dangerous!" Bebe called, while she sprinted after you. Coming closer to where fires were already rising, you saw him.

"It's me! Professor Chaos! Scream like the little ants you are!" Professor Chaos was a super villain that had been terrorizing the town for quite a while now. He and General Disarray were feared individuals that only cared about creating chaos and nothing more. But he was not the reason you and others remained here, while most people would leave. People like you stayed for the Professors sworn enemies. The superheroes that protected this town. There weren't many, especially good ones, but one in particular made your head spin, when you heard his name.

"YN please. Let us leave. It's dangerous!" Bebe pleaded looking around the street. Professor Chaos had blown up a construction side and the fires where ravaging among the building. He stood on top of it laughing like a maniac with Disarray be his side.

"We can't leave. I want to see him."

"You're insane!" Bebe said again and looked around, obviously distressed.

"Come on, where are you." You whispered and your hand clutched onto your phone.

You hope to finally snap a picture of him personally instead of always cutting out the imagines in the newspaper or magazines.

People were still screaming when a roaring sound broke through.

Your eyes grew wide and you pressed record on your phone, holding it in the direction of the sound. A purple motorbike came around the corner and the person on it looked just as amazing as you imagined. His purple cape moved beautifully behind him, when he pulled off a sick drift and stopped the bike.

Mysterion, the most badass and beloved hero arrived. You worshipped this man.

In your opinion he was simply amazing. He was strong, courageous, and not afraid to die. You were so busy drooling over this hero, that you didn't noticed Bebe shaking your arm and screaming about the fire. Then a second hero arrived.

The somewhat hated "Coon".

He stood there, somewhat out of breath while screaming at Mysterion.  "Ah, Mysterion, my arch enemy." Professor Chaos laughed evilly and pointed at him from the top of the building.

"I'm here too Chaos!" The Coon screamed. Professor Chaos didn't even give him a glace and just waved his hand, while he laughed.

"Today, I will put an end to your hero career Mysterion." "Oh yeah? I'd love to see that." The purple clothed hero retorted cockily and laughed. “Stop ignoring me for fucks sake!” The Coon screamed angrily, stomping his foot on the ground.

"We will see who will be laughing at the end. Disarray!" Professor Chaos screamed and suddenly you felt yourself being pulled.

You screamed before a hand was put over your mouth. You managed to turn your head a little bit and catch a glimpse of the right-hand man of Professor Chaos, General Disarray. "I have someone, Professor!" He called out to the gigantic seeming blonde and he laughed evilly once more.

"I have a hostage, Mysterion. Now your chances are significantly smaller than ever!" He laughed again and thunder struck behind him.

"Mysterion?" He called out, after he noticed that the hero was nowhere to be seen. You felt yourself getting pushed around a lot and heard some fighting noises before strong hands grabbed you. You let out a quick scream, before you saw into deep blue eyes. You noticed immediately that Mysterion had saved you. You sadly had not seen much of the fight, like you wished you had. He must have looked amazing.

"Run. Now. Get out of here." He said in his extremely deep voice and you needed a second before you could process everything that had just happened, but you managed to nod hesitantly before you took off running. Running for your dear life. You kept a tight grip on your phone in your pocket and when you finally reached the street in which you lived, you took a short second to catch your breath. "What the..." You mumbled somewhat scared and giddy.

Hastily you took out your phone and looked through your gallery. Your heart started beating faster when you took a good look at the beautiful snapshot you took of Mysterion while he arrived on his motorcycle.

"That's so gonna be in my locker at work." You mumbled, smiling like an idiot and you probably were one. You barely managed to escape the sticky situation, but you felt like it was somewhat worth it.

For you it was worth it.

Your little obsession with Mysterion started back when you were in High School and he saved a little girl that was almost run over by a car. Back then he was not all that professional like he was today. He apparently received some funding by the government which allowed him to have that cool motorcycle and a little headquarters. No one knew who he was or where he stashed all of his belongings. But he was a hero. To the town and for you personally.

A little squeal escaped your lips, before you went to shower and then straight to bed. Mysterion was the only thing on your mind during all of this.

When your phone rang early in the morning, you were already up and going about your day. You had the picture you endangered yourself for yesterday already printed out and in your work bag.

You worked for a little company belonging to Eric Cartman. He founded it a few years back and it changed its focus ever so often.

Eric paid you well and that's what kept you in the job. When it was time to leave you simply got into your car and started driving to the outskirts of the town where Eric had his little company. You parked on your employee parking space and saw one of your close friends and also colleagues walk up.

Stan Marsh.

He was honestly better than this job, but he simply wanted to escape his father for some time, because he hated the weed farm he owned, and Eric promised him some good money.

"Morning Stan!" You called out and waved towards the raven haired. He waved back and quickly jogged up to you.

"Hey, YN. Did you hear about the whole thing yesterday with Professor Chaos?" He asked and you showed your phone.

"Already read all the articles aaaand..." You quickly pulled up the snapshot you managed to sneak yesterday. Stans eyes grew wide.

"Woah! You were there?" "Yeah! And the girl that almost got kidnapped by Disarray? That was me." You smiled and Stan shook his head. "weren't you with Bebe yesterday?"

"Yeah." You began, as the two of you sat down at your desks. "She's somewhat pissed about me standing around in danger but she's happy I wasn't hurt." Stan smiled warmly at you and you guys talked for some more until Cartman strolled into your shared office.

"Okay. Okay. So... I want a new article about Coon for my blog and I need you, Stan, to please sort out the client data and phone anyone who hasn't bought our new merch." Eric said and pointed at the "Who is the Coon?"-T-Shits and Hoodies that hang on the wall.

"But no one likes the Coon?" Stan questioned and Erics face grew a little red. "Everyone loves the Coon. Mysterion is just some asshat who plays dress up and tries to mingle with the professionalism of the Coon." Eric said through gritted teeth and Stan and you rolled your eyes.

"Sure thing." Stan mumbled and started typing. "YN, for today, please research me some new money-making ideas." You nodded and went searching.

Hours went by in which Stan and you would love to just bang your head against the tables. "Why is he so obsessed with the Coon? You could almost think he is the Coon." Stan mumbled. "Almost but... You never know. I mean, we probably will never know who Mysterion is." You answered and filled out the papers needed for a new money-making idea. Last time you guys tried NSFW-Patreon drawings; the problem was though that none of you could produce enough hentai to keep up with the demand. You guys did not notice that you had been working for a while until two beautiful blonde-haired boys poked their head in.

"You guys coming for lunch?" Butters asked. "Yeah, haven't noticed it's lunchtime yet." You said and peeked at your watch. "Hardworking as always." Butters smiled and just now you noticed he had a black eye.

"Butters, what happened there?" Stan asked and he looked scared for a second. "Just some guy who beat me up at the bar, nothing to worry about fellas." He smiled and honest to God, he was just a little sunshine all around. Unlike the blonde next to him.

Kenny was more of a player and very down to earth. He was super charismatic and confident despite his troubled upbringing.

You packed your bag and followed the guys.

Kenny didn't work for Cartman. He worked in a small car shop just a few buildings away. You didn't know why he refused to work with Cartman, but you could guess it was maybe due to Cartman being a little shit sometimes and him telling the blond always "You're pooooor Kiiinny."

Maybe Cartman’s terrible attitude really was the reason the blonde refused to work for him and only came here to have lunch with you all. "Where are we eating?"

You asked and watched Stan and Butters discuss on where to go. "How about Cafe Monet?" Stan proposed and you all agreed. Well, not really, Kenny didn't agree, he just tagged along. Once you all arrived and you were seated you guys searched through the Menu.

Kenny didn't and you knew he wasn't going to order since he was adamant about saving everything he had.

You know that since he once told you that he was saving everything he had for his sister.

You had met Karen a few times and she was a pure little angle, so you felt hard for the blond.

It melted your heart that he was trying so hard to better himself and help his siblings. Feeling generous you slid your Menu over to the blonde and smiled. "Pick something. It's on me." You whispered and he eyed you confused.

"I don't need some charity shit or something. I'm fine with eating my lunch later." He said, his blond bangs framing his face elegantly. "I know. Just see it as a friend treating a friend." You whispered back and he gifted you a half smile and went to look what he would like. Finally, you decided on a nice Fav/Dish and Kenny picked a bit of fish with potatoes and greens.

"Eating all healthy?" You questioned when the waiter out down the plate in front of him. "Yes. Staying fit is important." He said and winked confidently. You were so busy talking to the blond next to you, you did not notice the topic of your other two friends. "No no, YN was the girl." You turned your head to look at Stan pointing at you. "Huh, sorry, what was that?" You asked and Stan laughed.

"You were the girl who got almost caught up in professor Chaos evil plan weren't you?" Butters looked at you with wide eyes. He seemed trembling.

"Oh yeah, that was me. General Disarray was about to take me somewhere, but I was saved."

"Why were you there anyway?" Kenny asked with a full mouth. "Snapping pics of her crush." You eyed Stan angrily.

"He's not my crush."

"Tell that to your locker." You rolled your eyes.

"I managed to snap some good pics of Mysterion. I mean.... look!"

You digged out your phone from your pockets and showed the pictures around. "You should be a photographer or something I mean, damn. His ass Looks amazing in this one." Kenny said and inspected the pictures intensely.

"Don't encourage her to endanger herself anymore. And besides that, I don't think Mysterion would want to bang your boney ass." Stan commented snarky.

"Still more ass than you, flat cake." The blonde retorted and you and Butters simply watched the small verbal fight between them, before the two of you talked about some fashion things you knew about.

After lunch it was all back to work. It was getting tiresome around the last hour and it felt like a horrible drag. But eventually, you were finally done. You walked outside, together with Stan and you stood there.

"You need a ride home?" You asked him and he shook his head.

"Nah, I'm eating out with my family today. Just a small way to walk." You nodded and the two of you bid your goodbyes.

You got into your car and let out a deep breath. Work was tiring today, and you felt like just relaxing at home. It would be nice to maybe fill your bathtub with some loving hot water, some candles would also be nice. And cake. Yes. A cake would be needed.

So, you decided to make a small stop at the bakery before you would go home. You left your parking space and began driving through the night as you noticed a special someone sitting at a bench at the bus stop. You pulled the car up to the bench and rolled down you window.

"Kenny, what are you doing here?"

The blonde looked up from his phone and seemed surprised that you stood or rather parked there.

"Oh, I'm just waiting for the bus, the usual." He said and looked around. "But I feel like it's not coming."

He shrugged and you leaned over to open your car door.

"Hop in, I'll bring you home." You said and he reluctantly got it.

"Stop being nice, I feel like I am taking advantage." He mumbled and closed the door.

"What happened to your truck?" You asked, wondering what must have happened that Kenny had to take the bus.

"Some stupid racoons infested it and bit through some cables. I can swap them, but I had to order them online and it takes a while until they arrive." He crossed his arms, thinking about how much he wanted to strangle those stupid racoons.

"Honestly, I'm starting to see a pattern on why Coon is a raccoon."

Kenny laughed wholeheartedly with you. "That's the best thing I heard about him." Kenny bit his lip and wondered if it was okay for him to ask what he had on his mind for a while.

"Now that you already picked me up and all that..." You stole a quick glance at him before your eyes went straight back to the road. You nodded to signal him to continue.

"Would you mind hanging out for the evening?" He asked, charming as ever.

You thought about it for a moment.

"Sure, why not. I'll still get me some cake though." You said and pointed at the approaching bakery.

"Why?" He questioned curiously as you parked swiftly in front of the store.

"I feel like taking a nice long bath later and maybe I'll relax with some cake."

"You don't need cake to relax when you can have me."

Kenny's smile was incredibly devious and playfully. Normally girls would probably freak out or something about this comment, but between you and Kenny it had become somewhat normal.

"No thanks. The cake won't disappoint me after thirty seconds." You said and got out.

Kenny wanted to protest but you simply smiled devilishly and went straight into the store. Kenny used this time he was given to think of some witty comebacks.

He was not gonna let you have the last word about this. When you came back to the car, and got in, you were told: "You don't need to hide that you just wanna masturbate and think about Mysterion while touching yourself.

Kenny sat there with a smug expression and you rolled your eyes. You placed the package in the back and then gave him a light punch onto the arm.

"That one was good, I'll admit that. But you know, I'd rather think about Mysterion than be touched by you." You said and laughed.

Kenny needed to laugh too, mainly because the whole topic was simply in his favor, even when you were not aware of that.

"Ah, I love our banter." Kenny said and got comfortable in the passenger seat while he watched you drive.

"So do I. Oh, by the way, I got you and Karen some cake too. You'll treat me another time."

"Treat you with my dick? Or would you like my tongue?"

"If your name isn't Mysterion, no chance."

It was more banter to you than actually real. You were not that horny for Mysterion.

Everyone just loved to make this shitty joke at your expense ever so often, but you honestly didn't mind.

"Ah come on. And if I get a costume like his and change my voice a little?"

"Still no chance. Sorry Ken."

That still was a stupid lie. You sure were attracted to Kenny, I mean, who wouldn't. He was a tall, dirty blonde, blue-eyed hard-working man, with a soft spot for his family and great humor. You weren't surprised when you learned how many girls had little crushes on him. He was good looking and even when he wasn't the wealthiest, he was a kindhearted soul.

When you finally reach your apartment complex the two of you got out and Kenny followed you patiently to the fourth floor. Inside your apartment he went straight for the couch and relaxed. You let him be but reminded him of the no shoes rule. He begrudgingly took of his heavy and run-down boots and put them aside. He also, to your surprise, took of his orange trademark parka and tossed it into a corner.

"You'll pick it up later." You remarked from the kitchen when you saw him do that.

"Yeah, Yeah, I will."

You knew full when that he just said that so you wouldn't start a discussion with him. You knew that but still let it slide. For now, at least. You prepared a little sandwich for yourself before you plopped down onto the couch next to the blond.

"So, what are we doing?" You asked with your mouth full and he shrugged.

"How about you take that bath you were talking about and I watch you do so."

Did this shit eating grin ever leave his face?

"Nah, I'm good." You said and smiled back.

"Ah come on." He whined but laughed immediately after.

"Let's just watch some TV." You proposed and snagged the remote to put something on.

You guys were just lazily watching some random show while also being on your phones. All that was on your mind was that bath though. You loved Kenny to death but right now you were just craving some hot warm water all around you.

"Would you mind if I take that bath I was talking about? I really feel like I need that."

You said and the blonde smiled without taking his eyes off the phone. "I'd need you naked too."

You threw one of the couch pillows at him and pretended to laugh.

"Ha ha ha. You're sooo funny, it almost hurts me." You said, got up and walked into your bathroom to start the water.

In the next minutes you were setting up the candles and got your cake ready. When the water was almost ready, Kenny leaned in the doorway and watched you ignite the last candles.

"Jeez, you're going all out. Looks nice though." He said and gave you a low whistle.

"You wanna have me join you sweetheart?" He said and walked over to your kneeling figure. Kenny also got down to one knee and basically massaged your shoulders. You let out a deep sigh and rolled your eyes.

"Hey, Ken, listen, I really appreciate you and love our jokes and shit, but I don't think we should bang. It would be like... I don't know, super awkward if we had something and then just keep being friends and all that. And You're a great friend and I don't want to lose you, you know."

Kenny's smile faded and he frowned a little. "YN, I fucked so many girls and guys and I'm friendly with most of them and even their old or new partners. I'm sure it won't change a thing." He said charmingly and turned your head towards his.

You stared deeply into his eyes and you inspected the beautiful bright blue spots that highlighted it and the dark blue edges, while your heads came closer. You had never seen Kenny’s eyes up close.

And suddenly it struck you.

It felt like an ice cube slide down your spine and you trembled. You pulled your head back and basically fell onto your ass. Kenny eyed you confused and offered you a hand to get back up.

"No, I'm fine... I-I'll just take the bath if you don't mind." You laughed nervously and still confused Kenny nodded and held up his hands in defense.

"I get it, I get it. You won't resist me forever." He smiled and walked out. You were left there, breathing away the strange feeling of panic.

You quickly undressed yourself and went into the hot water. It calmed your racing thoughts down for a little bit and you managed to order them.

The blue, the highlights, the dark edges that formed a beautiful circle. The few freckles underneath the eyes. Why did Mysterion and Kenny have identical eyes? What, How, why, just... Argh!

You began stuffing yourself with cake and tried your best to make any sense of the situation. Was Kenny Mysterion, or did they just have similar eyes?

Or... You thought about it long and hard and eventually.... It kind of just... Clicked?

It made sense.

Kenny was living alone, he was young, in shape, the piecing blue eyes, the need to protect others, some jokes he made... It... It just fitted together like a puzzle.

You quickly finished up your bath and went outside after blowing out the candles.

"What a view." Kenny joked from the couch and you just went straight into your bedroom.

This perverted guy you were close friends with was really the pure and kindhearted Mysterion? In your head it barely made any sense but you kind of just felt like your theory was correct.

You got dressed quickly and just sat on your bed, trying to picture the blond in the purple costume without the hood.

It just fit.

The height, the figure.

Everything.

After a few minutes you heard a knock on your door and carefully Kenny came in.

"Good, you're dressed. Even if I don't mind you in less clothes."

You didn't respond or gave him any attention.

"YN, is everything, all right? You're suddenly so wei- You're Mysterion, aren't you?" You interrupted him and looked straight at him.

He seemed surprised, taken back, unsure.

Everything, Kenny was normally not.

"Me? Mysterion? Sweetheart, was the water too hot?" He laughed when he collected himself again.

"No. Not at all. When Mysterion saved me, he starred straight into my eyes. You guys have the same eyes, freckles, skin tone." You said and waved your hands around.

"I guess no point in denying then. I should have been more careful." He said and sat down next to you.

"Please keep it to yourself. I'm sure if someone knows who I am, they will target the people I'm trying to protect." He said and his hand went through his hair.

"Does anyone else know?" You questioned and he shook his head.

"Nope. Not even Karen. It is dangerous if someone knows who I am. So, I always kept it a secret. I guess my only mistake was trying to fuck you after you were that close to Mysterion but..." He grinned evilly, "You said no one could fuck you except Mysterion. So... Here I am." His hand moved from his head to his knees, presenting himself.

"I wish I was as confident as you." You mumbled.

"I can't believe the hero I always looked up to is... You?" You said, raising and eyebrow and inspecting the blonde once more.

"Disappointed?" He questioned and tilted his head.

"I don't know."

"You wanna know what's funny to me?"

You looked at him, waiting for his reply, but as soon as you saw that shit eating grin on his face, you knew it'd be bad.

"That ass you admired and took pictures of was mine. The guy in your locker is me. It is so funny. You obsessed over me, without knowing it was me. That's so fucking funny, I wish I could tell someone."

He laughed his ass off and fell onto your bed. He just kept saying how funny it is and you felt more and more like a fool.

"Can you shut up, this is embarrassing and confusing you asshat." He finally got back up and held his hands up in a defensive manner.

"Woah, woah, no need to be so hostile." He spoke. You simply rolled your eyes.

"I love that I now have more material to make fun of you. But also, I feel flattered that you love me, without having seen this beautiful face."

"Someday you'll choke on that humongous ego of yours."

"I'd rather choke you."

You had a small starring contest and you lost when you just busted out laughing.

"So, now that you know my secret, I'm sure you will not say anything about it..." He asked and took your hand.

"I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Good, otherwise I'd have to kill you." He said in his Mysterion voice and the grip on your hand got stronger. You felt scared for a second, before he smiled again.

"Just a joke." You just nodded.

"Ahh, come on Sweetheart..." You looked at him again and he had this smug expression once more.

"Don't you love this." And he switched the voice again.

Still somewhat embarrassed and also confused because the guy you had a small crush on turned out to be a friend of yours, your cheeks heat up and immediately Kenny picked up on it.

"I can tell you like it." He whispered into your ear.

"Dude, this feels like some weird roleplay or something." You giggled.

"We can make it that. I still have some of my older costumes."

You laughed once more and bit your lip, while Kenny pushed you slowly onto your bed and got on top of you.

"Oh, shut up Mysteribitch."

"Oh, I'll make you my bitch."

He laughed, before he slowly pressed his lips onto yours. His lips felt somewhat rough and at the same time smooth, kind of just like you imagined what it'd be like.

And also, just like you imagined, his tongue found its way into your mouth rather quickly.

You continued making out for quite a while and honestly, to you it felt like heaven. But eventually you carefully pressed your hands against his chest after they had wandered down from his soft hair and you pressed him away.

"What... Don't tell me you're thinking about this staying friends shit again." He said somewhat aggravated. You shook your head.

"No, I just wanted to ask if you could bring one of those old costumes next weekend. Maybe we can pick up on that roleplay idea." You whispered against his lips and he smiled into the now following kiss.

"Good. I was just gonna say that I don't wanna be friends. I kinda wanna be more. I like you a lot YN." He whispered in-between the kisses.

"I'm fine with that." You whispered back and the two of you just smiled into the many kisses you now shared. And pretty much, just like you expected, it didn't take long for Kenny’s hands to roam around your body and finally wandered underneath your shirt.

You did not just make out that night.

It led to much more and you loved every second of it. When your alarm woke you up in the morning, it felt strange to feel these strong arms around you. You carefully woke Kenny up and told him it was time to get up.

"I don't wanna. It's so nice here. The view it to die for." He said as you got up.

"Go shower. I'll drop you off at work."

"Fine." He mumbled and walked past you, naked.

"The pure confidence of this man."

You got dressed and ready for work, as did Kenny begrudgingly. While you also made him a bit of lunch, he stole some kisses ever so often. You honestly were surprised at this, you imagined this part differently, but of course you did not complain. When you were finally in your car and on your way to work, he proposed an idea.

"Okay, so of you wanna do that roleplay shit, I'll Go the extra mile. Just for you, I'll surprise you with the whole thing. Just leave your window open next weekend and you might be visited by the hero with the great ass." He winked.

You bit your lip, feeling aroused just thinking about it.

"I will do so. Hope Mysterions dick is as good as my boyfriends." You teased and Kenny laughed rather hard.

"Feels strange hearing you say that, but I can get used to it."

"Good." You answered and you two smiled like idiots, thinking all about your crazy plans, while you pulled into your parking space.

"You walk over to your work?" You questioned as you saw Stan approaching from the corner of your eye.

"Yeah. See you at lunch, Babe." He pressed a final kiss onto your lips and took off to his own work.

Stan whistled as you caught up to him.

"I thought you were crushing on Mysterion?" Stan questioned with a smile on his thin lips.

"I kinda got over it. Kenny's a pretty good catch anyway, I think he's the closest to Mysterion that there is." You smiled and Stan laughed at your comment.

"If You say so."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it." You smiled, knowing this secret between you and Kenny will spice thing up in your relationship.

[fighterkimburgess]

Lover Chapter 11 - Canaryville Boy

Summary: Jay's finally out of hospital and about to go back to desk duty. His final day before work, he decides to show Hailey around his childhood haunts. Series Masterlist here

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of sex, Jay!Whump

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--

Some mornings Hailey woke up and couldn’t quite believe how lucky she was. This was one of those mornings. Jay’s arms were around her, and he was healthy. He was back in work on desk duty the following week, so they were treating this weekend as a date weekend.

Once they were up and dressed Jay urged her out the door, getting into the drivers seat of the truck and grinning. He’d only been cleared to drive the day before, and Hailey thought it was the best news he’d gotten at that appointment. Until the doctor had confirmed he could have sex. That was definitely his favourite news.

She stared out the window as they drove into Canaryville, pulling up outside a mom and pop diner.

“I used to come here on Saturday mornings with my parents and Will, it was our thing. Wanna get breakfast and see if it’s as good as I remember?” Hailey grinned, and they walked in hand in hand. They grabbed a table, and the waitress who came over immediately recognised Jay.

“Halstead! What’re you doing here? I thought you were too fancy to come back here.” She was in her fifties, and Jay just grinned.

“What can I say? I wanted to show Hailey around my old haunts. Hailey Upton, meet Maggie McNamara. Maggie, this is Hailey, my girlfriend.” Hearing Jay call her that still made Hailey grin with delight, and Maggie smiled too.

“You should have brought her around before now! I’m assuming you want your normal breakfast combo. Want me to give you a few minutes to decide?”

Hailey quickly checked the menu in front of her, before shaking her head. “I’m good, can I get chocolate chip waffles, a side of bacon and a fruit cup?”

“Coming right up. Coffee and juice for both of you?” Their synchronised nods were enough, and Maggie whirled away to get their orders.

True to Jay’s word, the food was delicious. Every so often someone would stop by their table to say hi to Jay, ask how he was doing. Despite the circumstances around his injuries being secret, everyone knew he had been in hospital. He just smiled and said it was an on the job injury before distracting them by introducing Hailey. She smiled at people whose names she’d never remember, mentioning she was a cop as well and of course she knew Will, they were very close. It felt like a Greek family reunion, everyone walking in and knowing everyone else, and she felt at home at it.

Once they finished eating and argued over paying - Hailey won, mostly because Jay had to use the restroom and she snuck the bills to Maggie with a smile - they went outside, where Jay walked her to a park. It was a cold March day, with snow still on the ground, but they did a loop, arm in arm. They stopped and watched some kids sports practice, Jay waving at one of the coaches.

“What was that?” Hailey asked, watching the kids play some weird mix of hockey and lacrosse. It was like a hockey stick, but they used a ball and all the kids had helmets on.

“Have you heard of Irish hurling? It’s the fastest field sport in the world, totally insane. When we were kids my mom got us into the local club to play it. She was from Kilkenny in Ireland, and it was basically a religion when she grew up. Will hated it, but I had pretty good aim. I think there’s some team photos in one of the photo albums. Mom thought I could play for Illinois before I joined the army.” She watched as the kids hit the small balls, loud cracks echoing through the park as they did. Imagining Jay as a kid with a stick that was almost as big as him, hitting the balls against trees to practice his aim.

Once they finished walking and decided it was too cold to stay out, Jay directed her to a coffee shop. She ordered for them, but before she could pass over cash Jay had paid, a smile on his face this time.

The sun was trying to break through the clouds they sipped their drinks, talking about everything and nothing. Hailey had been back at work for three weeks, and Jay wanted to know everything they’d done. She refused to water down what was happening, filling him in on the pedophile case they’d had the week before. It was hell, but Jay was soon back in work and it’d be easier then. To lighten the mood Jay brought up a YouTube video of hurling on his phone, showing Hailey just how talented some of the athletes were.

“And they’re all amateurs. I think that’s why Will preferred baseball, if he got into the major leagues he could earn money. Hurling and football is totally amateur.” She could have listened to him talk about his childhood, the things he’d loved all day.

When their drinks were finished he picked up Hailey’s hand again, intertwining their fingers and leading them to a pizza place a few blocks away. It was cosy and intimate, and again Jay knew the owners.

“Halstead! How’s that brother of yours? I heard he gave Sarah stitches last week?” The waitress this time was in her late teens, a grin on her face.

“No idea, I’ve been busy. This is my partner, Hailey.” He indicated to Hailey, and the two women smiled at each other.

“Work partner or partner partner? Because you’ve never brought anyone here before.” Hailey spotted the gleam of a younger sibling in her eyes, and decided to intervene.

“I mean, technically both? He decided to show me around where he grew up, told me this was the best place for pizza in Canaryville.” The teenager let out a laugh at that.

“Now I know you’re dating him, and you’re lying for him. I’m Jess, and he’s basically my big brother. Want your normal, Jay?”

“Yeah, and two cokes?”

She nodded and walked away, leaving Hailey looking quizzically at him. “Your normal? Do I want to know?”

“Deep dish pepperoni and sausage with extra chilli flakes. AKA the same pizza we get basically every time we go out. I figured you’d be ok with that?”

The entire time they spent there they were laughing, first at Jay’s jokes and memories, and then at Jess telling ones that Jay had ‘forgotten’ to mention. Hailey was learning so much about his childhood that she had never known, stories that Jay himself seemed to have forgotten in time.

Their last stop of the afternoon was to the bar Jay had drank his first (legal and illegal) beers in. He told the story of joining the Army on his eighteenth birthday, but having to wait until his senior year of high school was over to be sent to Fort Benning. So the night before he shipped out he and Will had gone to the family owned bar, and been served two drinks. Because if Jay was old enough to potentially die for his country, he was old enough to have a beer while doing it.

Pat had brought him for his first legal beer, a silent event between the two men. His dad hadn’t known how to get through to Jay then, hadn’t known how to talk to him, so instead they sat in silence, watching a hockey game on the tv.

This time though, Hailey told Jay about her childhood hobbies, about the things she did at the restaurant. Greektown didn’t hold happy memories for her the way Canaryville did for Jay, but she was so delighted to be part of his story, to learn where he’d come from.

One beer was enough for them, and they started walking down the street towards the truck, arms intertwined again. They were talking about nothing and everything - what Jay’s desk would be like when he returned, how much paperwork Ruzek would try to pass off on Jay seeing as Jay was on desk duty - when Hailey felt him falter beside her. She turned, and he was much paler than he should have been. It was like in slow motion as Hailey watched her boyfriend collapse onto the cold street.

She shot into action, pulling out her cell phone and dealing 911. As soon as dispatch answered she began speaking quickly.

“Detective Hailey Upton, badge number 55055. Off duty detective Jay Halstead, badge number 51163 has collapsed. Need immediate medical assistance.” The dispatcher stayed on the line as Hailey heard sirens coming closer, keeping a finger on Jay’s neck for his pulse. He was breathing and he had to be ok.

When the ambulance pulled up she was relieved to see it was 61, Sylvie and Violet getting out of the rig to help. They loaded Jay up and put him into the back, Hailey following quickly behind. She watched Sylvie work on Jay, hooking him up to the heart monitor leads and putting an oxygen mask on him. It was terrifying but she kept an eye on his heartbeat, trying to work out what had happened. He had to be ok. He had to be.

Their arrival into Med was met with fanfare, and yet again Hailey and Will were stuck looking into a trauma room as Connor tried to perform miracles. She watched them scan, holding Will’s hand as they both used the other for comfort. She tried to analyse Rhodes’ face, work out what he was seeing, but she didn’t know any of it. She couldn’t know any of it.

It took less than five minutes from when Jay was brought in to him being wheeled out of the trauma room and into an elevator. Connor came over to her and Will, almost running.

“I need to be quick. There’s a blood clot on his lung, we need to remove it now. It’s risky, but we can’t leave it there. The two of you go to the surgical waiting room and as soon as I have any updates I’ll let you know.” With that Hailey watched the surgeon who’d keep the love of her life run up to the OR, as she held her breath for yet another miracle for Jay.

Chapter 12>>

Taglist: @abbyscameron @amazingbutterflyes @chicagoames @blonde-freckles @morganupstead @brookerz122493 @mnt2live4more @redpoodlern @alkadri-layal @stephanie708 @tuxieboy101-blog @thelittlepterophyllum @planecrazylex @bluecrush129 @rawgiel @gsophie43 @angelsjedi @milahs

[ssa-sugar-tits]

Ten Years (ch. 4)

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Content warnings: cursing, smut, nsfw, penetrative sex, car sex, public sex?, hair pulling

a/n: this is literally just porn. remember to use protection, only have sex in private if car sex is illegal in your state, and never drive after drinking.

   Maybe your relationship hit a bit of an unexplained rough patch. But you and Spencer have always been more than a typical couple. You've gotten through worse, this is just a step to start re-igniting the love you've spent years growing and nurturing. The dress you choose is a dark, plum purple. It hugs your curves, stopping a few inches above the knees. You pair it with a set of diamond earrings and a wine red lipstick. Slipping into a pair of glossy black high heels, you complete the look with a sleek, half up, half down hairstyle. Not to sound conceited, but... you look fucking hot. And ready for your date.

Spencer takes a deep, steady breath as he adjusts his tie in the mirror. It's his first date with you and he has to pretend it's a regular thing. Good luck with that, he scoffs to himself. When you step out of the bedroom, his jaw drops. He'd only seen you outside of work attire 4 times. You smirk seeing how his eyes glue to you, taking you in like a work of art.

"How do I look?" you ask confidently, already knowing the answer.

"Perfect." he breathes out.

"You look okay too," you laugh. "Now let's go."

Placing a kiss to his flushed cheek, you leave the apartment and get into the car. It's surreal to him, that you remember little things like how he doesn't like to drive. You speak to him and look at him with genuine love.

"Reservation for two, Spencer Reid." He tells the woman at the front. She escorts you to a small booth and takes your orders.

"We haven't done this in a while," you laugh, opening the menu in front of you.

"I want to." Spencer blurts out, confusing you a bit. "Do this, I mean. You're everything to me, Y/N. I'll do anything to make you happy like you deserve."

Speechless, you meet his gaze and give him a flustered smile.

"You know how you sound right now?"

"How?" he prompts.

"Like you did when we went on our first date," you reach to hold his hand and laugh. "We're already married, no need to charm me babe."

He beams and takes your hand.

"I know, I know but I love you. It's important to me that you know that."

"Well I've known that since like, the day we met but I love you too."

He has to do a double take, realizing what you said.

"Wait since... Y/N," he clears his throat. "How long before we became uh-- romantically involved, were you aware of my feelings for you?"

"Quite the profiler, aren't you?"

It's crazy, all these years and you really haven't talked about it? You thought you had but he's the one with the eidetic memory... he would know. The waitress returns with your food and you start to recount how his small crush had first become apparent.

"Spence, it was pretty obvious when you stumbled your way through an introduction on my first day. Then there were the stares when you thought I wasn't looking, the awkward smiles, the not-so-subtle jealousy when someone hit on me." A reminiscing smile grazes your lips as you recall the early stages as your relationship and heat rises to Spencer's neck and face. Noticing, you reassure him.

"Don't be embarassed, that was years ago. And clearly I thought it was cute since I married you."

For reasons you couldn't possibly understand, he's humiliated. Did his Y/N really know exactly how he felt about her? Then it turns to a sense of giddy happiness, realizing you return those feelings.

"Why'd it take so long for us to happen?"

A scoff distracts you from your dinner as you shake your head.

"My guess is we were both a little too fucked up to do anything about it. Your dumb, genius ass thought I'd reject you and my dumb, non-genius ass was too scared to commit. But it all worked out just fine, didn't it?"

"It did," he agrees with a sense of sweet euphoria filling him. "I'm eternally grateful for that."

Something in the air, something between you is drawing you to each other in a way you've never felt.

"Spence."

You gaze at him with a fierce desire and he gets the message.

"Check please!"

   Stumbling into the backseat of your car, Spencer grips a handful of your hair sternly while pushing his mouth into the most passionate of kisses. All the while your hands fumble to unbutton his dress shirt. He licks his lips as he examines your far too clothed body. You're thrown back onto the seat and his slender fingers explore your body, tongue still blitzing yours in firey love. A premature wine-flavored moan slips your throat into his when he squeezes your thigh delicately. While you grapple with his belt hastily, he pulls the straps of your dress down your shoulders to expose your breasts. Exposed and writhing, he attaches an open mouth to your neck trailing down to your breast causing you to gasp loudly. Spencer wraps his lips around your nipple and suckles, washing you with bliss. You use your free hand to palm his length, causing him to groan before lifting your legs to wrap them around his waist. Having never felt the sensation of unraveling a woman, especially you, into such a pretty mess he instantly sighs in comfort feeling your warm wetness drip down your thighs.

Wait. Fuck. That's a problem, isn't it? He was a dorky virgin when you met. A cute dorky virgin, but still a dorky virgin. Just go with it, he tells himself. It's what you'd say if you knew.

Bursting with sudden affirmation, he lines up his cock up to your soaking slit and enters you. His head rolls back in immense pleasure and he almost forgets to actually fuck you. You moan with the first heavenly thrust and dig your nails into his firm backside.

"Oh my god, Spencer." you roll out in a syrupy haze.

His pace quickens and he tugs at your hair. Th sound of his supple skin slapping against your body paired with your love coated moans crystallizes the atmosphere.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're so pretty," he lets out more filthy strings of praises and groans louder.

"Spence, I'm so close," you practically whine.

It isn't just sex, it's true love-making and expression and you're gravitating with pure bodily harmony.

"Almost there, let go for me baby."

His words send you over the edge and waves of felicity spin through you. Your pussy's walls tighten around his dick, prompting more stretched out moaning and grasping. Red lines of love streak Spencer's back while you ride out your orgasm. The ecstasy of what you did radiates, leaving heavy breathing and dopey grins evident.

"Goddamn, Y/N." he sighs contently, dressing himself and trying to smooth his now wrinkled clothes in the limited space of the car. You open the car door and drive home, giggling and floating from absolute love all the way. Leaving your heels in the hall, you and Spencer make your way to the bed not bothering to change out of your dress clothes. Burying yourself in his neck happily, he holds you firmly and you drift off to sleep together.

Beep. Beep.

Spencer wakes up, slightly irritated by the alarm beside him.

"Morning love," he mumbles before he realizes you aren't in bed with him. Shifting, he runs a hand through his hair and yawns wondering where you are.

"Y/N?"

You don't respond but his phone chimes, indicating he's received a text.

No, god no.

You have to be fucking kidding me, he screams internally.

8:04 AM

Wednesday, July 30th, 2005

New message:

Y/N

Reid, everything okay? JJ's presenting the case in a few minutes. Call when you're on your way.

It wasn't a dream, he can say that without a doubt. He spent a week ten fucking years from now. He isn't insane, it happened. He stares in disbelief at his phone.

He... He should get ready for work shouldn't he?

[apossessionadaybreak]

Father’s Day Special

“Hey dad, I got you something” I announced, barging into the house.

“Hmm? Oh you shouldn’t have, there’s plenty of better things to spend money on than your old man.”

“Dad, for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been wearing the same set of clothes every week. It’s Father’s Day! You deserve to have something new.”

He laughed. “Guilty as charged, put it in my room and I’ll have a look at it later.”

I did as he said, smiling to myself. I would do anything to make my dad happy, he had been so strong, so amazing, raising me all on his own. Not once had I ever heard him complain or lose his patience. If only I could do more for him… As my mind wandered, I began to feel a little woozy. Shopping for dad must have taken more out of me than I thought. I had even tried on some of the things I had bought for him. Of course I already knew his measurements but it was just for fun, to see the difference in size. I’m not sure what I was expecting, the pants sagged around my ankles and dropped down the moment I tried to put them around my waist. The belt hadn’t been any better, being way too long for someone like me to even consider. Still, I had earned at least a short nap. Surprisingly I could barely even keep my eyes open as I dragged myself to the bed. I was out in moments.

I gasped as I opened my eyes. I couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few seconds but something felt… odd. I somehow felt… thicker? Heavier? I shook my head to try to clear it which only reinforced the feeling that I had somehow grown a lot in a very short amount of time. I blinked and even the way my face moved felt strange. Looking down I saw that wasn’t the only thing that had changed. For one there was a lot more hair than I remembered, the thickest region right in the middle of my chest and more covering the rest of the front. I felt rather than saw, lines spanning my torso, defining muscles I had never bothered to develop. They were accompanied by a layer of fat and yet all of it felt, just right. Appropriate for a man my age. That thought gave me pause, I wasn’t sure when I had begun thinking of myself as a man but it certainly wasn’t within the last five minutes. Acting on instinct, I began to stretch. It felt good, better than I had ever known, the way my muscles pulled and tightened all around me. I took a deep breath and inhaled a scent that I knew instantly yet couldn’t place the name of. It was a few moments before I realised that it was coming from ME, it was what I smelled like. I took a few more tentative sniffs to confirm before putting my arms back down. I shook my head, I had hair all over my body in places I didn’t even remember. Everything felt distinctly familiar and foreign at the same time. I looked up to see a mirror, and saw my dad staring back at me.

I had never heard my dad scream before but somehow his deep voice still remained thunderous and commanding. I began to breathe faster, panicking. It was weird to say the least, to see my father, always so strong and stoic, having a meltdown. I swallowed hard attempting to calm myself and figure out just what the hell was going on. I scrambled to my feet, not even remembering having sat down. The weight and strength of this body nearly threw me off-balance even as I tried to stand up. Hesitantly, I looked into the mirror again, and saw my dad once again, making the same horrified face I had in my mind. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, feeling my huge chest inflate as I did so. Without even meaning to I felt blood rush straight to my member. I groaned, as if it wasn’t weird enough being in my dad’s body. I looked around me to confirm my surroundings. I seemed to be in my dad’s room. The shopping bag I had dumped here earlier was lying on its side. Looking down, I saw I was wearing the pants and belt I had tried on earlier except now they sat snugly around my waist, a perfect fit. I thumbed the material, scarcely daring to believe myself. I had shopped at the store so many times previously with no strange effects. Could something as simple as trying on clothes impart such supernatural properties? I wondered if my dad was in my body, experiencing the same weird scenario I was but given the complete silence throughout the rest of the house I was inclined to think otherwise. Somehow, I was possessing my dad’s body, filling out his suit pants. Now that I had gotten over the initial shock, another part of me couldn’t stop thinking how awesome this was, against my better judgment. I was my Dad. I was my own father. “This is crazy!” My dad’s voice boomed out of MY mouth, vocalising MY thoughts. I wanted to laugh, felt a mad urge to laugh and before I knew it was doubling over in the middle of the room, a lovely bass chuckle escaping my lips. My mind raced with all the possibilities that had opened up to me, I couldn’t even begin to describe the insanity of what was happening.

I felt my face with my thick, calloused fingers, feeling the tickle of the short bristles of hair on my head. A beard, I had an honest-to-goodness beard, well groomed and maintained. I ran my hands over the rest of my body, feeling newfound strength in my limbs and appreciated the WEIGHT of this body. It had never occurred to me just how well built, well proportioned my dad was but now I was seeing it in an all new light. I felt a bucking against my briefs as a small dark patch appeared on the trousers I had just bought. I laughed, I had always been a boxers man myself but couldn’t argue with how well the fabric supported my girthy new package. I ran my fingers through the dense pelt covering my chest and belly, taking a moment to circle my nipples, so much bigger and more sensitive than my own. My hands wandered down to my crotch and I began to unbuckle and unbutton, all thoughts of taboo replaced by the white haze of pleasure. However, as I slid the pants down past my knees, I began to feel woozy again, exactly how I felt before… this happened.

Coming to my senses, I quickly pulled the pants on again, the discomfort disappearing as quickly as I dressed. I couldn’t even begin to understand my powers but thought it best not to get too crazy for now. I flexed, striking a pose in the mirror and laughed as my dad obeyed my every command. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted my dad’s wallet. An idea coming into my head, I grabbed and thumbed through the wad of notes and cards stored within. I, my dad had never liked spending money but today was Father’s day and he, I deserved to enjoy myself. I quickly located my car keys and phone, smiling as I unlocked the latter with my strong fingers. I couldn’t recall the password at the moment but with a quick fingerprint scan I was reading through all of my dad’s messages. Details and memories of my life flowed smoothly in, informing my movements, my thoughts. I snapped up a crisp white button-down from the closet, swiftly pulling it on and tucking it in to my trousers. I tilted my head and arched my back as I felt my body a second time through my clothes. The fabric stretched tight as it hugged my skin, my nipples, me.

Panting, I retained the presence of mind to grab a set of my, my dad’s clothes and moved to leave it in my room. Knocking on the door, I swung it open to reveal my body, lying still on the bed. A quick check revealed I was still breathing. Resolving to study my powers later, I laid the pile of clothes on the desk before closing the door behind me.

I wasted no time driving to the local mall where I had purchased my gifts. I walked around the same department store I had been in just hours earlier but failed to uncover anything unusual. The only difference was the way other people looked at me, talked to me. Gone were the glances of disdain and fake smiles for the teenager grabbing clothes far too big for him. Now they were far more attentive, sincerely giving their best pitches, eager for my approval. I smirked and shook my head, my budget had expanded far beyond what they had on display. I strode out, leaving them to gaze at my impressive back. A small grumble sounded from my stomach and I grinned. Following the smell of sizzling meat I sat myself at the fanciest restaurant in the area. I politely declined a menu, I already knew my favourite. “Steak, medium-rare, and a glass of your finest red.” The waiter nodded and retreated as swiftly as he came. I looked casually around the room, easing my bulk into the soft cushions of the chair as I made myself as comfortable as possible. All around me were people who probably never even gave my dad the time of day now shooting glances in my direction. As they should be, despite my usual appearance I was not a man to be taken lightly. I rolled my shoulders and unlocked my phone, studying up on my life as I waited.

An hour later I walked out, fully satiated, having left a generous tip to boot. I felt a small pang of guilt as I saw my face in the glass, my dad would never spend this much money but I consoled myself that it was just for today, he deserved to enjoy himself. I was certainly enjoying myself. I strolled around, exploring stores I had never even looked at before.

“Billy!” I turned around at the sound before I could even process the words, somehow my dad knew this man. I gave him a once-over, he was taller than my dad but seemed just as fit. I felt a smile come to my face and a bulge in my pants.

“Evening Phil.” The words left my mouth as easily as flowing water. This was my son’s, my, best friend’s dad and fellow lawyer. I grimaced a little, the mix-ups were getting more frequent and slightly worrying.

“Looking good my friend, finally using that paycheck of yours?”

I laughed. “Gifts from my son. For Father’s day.”

“Ahh they grow up so fast don’t they? Nicky gave me a tie though I wouldn’t say no to a new belt either, suits you well.”

I glanced down and smiled at my handiwork. “It is nice isn’t it?” I grinned as a plan began to form in my mind. “Perhaps he’s waiting to give you the rest.”

Phil snorted. “Yeah, right. If that ever happened I’ll need to send him for an exorcism.”

I laughed harder than before, he had no idea how close he was to the truth. “Was good seeing you Phil but I must be going. Places to be, errands to run.”

We waved each other goodbye as I stepped in the direction of the tailors. A bespoke suit would do very nicely and Phil would indeed look nice with a handsome new belt around his waist. Might give a new sparkle to his eyes, I thought to myself, grinning madly as I did so. Happy Father’s day indeed.

[shewillreadyou]

Me before You: Chapter 2- For Real

As always. I hope that you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

A/N: This is a TRR AU. Liam is already married, but see’s Riley and wants his cake. If the readers are receptive this might turn into more than a mini series.

Disclaimers: Most characters are property of Pixelberry

Warnings: Language, adult content, mild sexual innuendo. 

Word Count: 2458

Catch up: Haven’t met you Yet

Prompts: @theworldofprompts​ 

“Name one thing you regret in life?”  

“Well, for starters, I married you.” will appear in BOLD.

Pairings: Drake & Riley

Song inspiration: For Real- Amel Larrieux

Be Kind: Hit the heart button, leave a comment or reblog. It makes a writer so so happy. 

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may salute your bride.”

Savannah and her groom shared a modest kiss. 

“It is my pleasure to present to you for the very first time the Duke and Duchess of Ramsford. Bertrand and Savannah Beaumont of Cordonia.”

“Cordonia?” Riley whispered to herself.

“So I’m not crazy. Drake said he is from Cordonia. The Liam look-alike could really be King Liam of Cordonia. The matron of honor could actually be Queen Carsyn. This is insane.” 

Her thoughts raced as she tried to make connections. 

“There will be a cocktail hour in the barn,” an older woman announced.

The barn was decorated in a rustic theme, Tim McGraw’s, “I like it, I love it” played in the background and there were servers with appetizers everywhere. Quickly, lines formed for the open bars. Mack held on to Riley’s arm as they waited.

“So let me get this straight? The guy you met in New York, was Drake? Drake Walker? Like Savannah’s brother Drake? No fucking way. The world is not that small.”

“Yeah, apparently it is, he is the man I saw at the airport, the guy from the bar, the guy I’ve been texting and now he’s here.”

“Sounds like fate.”

“I don’t know if I believe in fate. More like dumb luck.”

“Miss Riley?” a server interrupts their conversation. 

“For you and your guest.”

He offers a whiskey sour and an old fashion, the signature drink to she and Mack.

“Compliments of Mr. Walker. My name is Caleb, I have been personally assigned to you for the duration of the evening. You don’t need to wait in lines. I can bring you whatever you need to eat or drink.”

“Wow, well thank you Caleb. That’s very thoughtful.” 

She tries to tip Caleb and he refuses. 

“No thank you Ma’am. Mr. Walker has already compensated me handsomely. Please let me know if there is anything else I can get for you.”

Later

The wedding party joins the guests in the barn before the bride and groom have their first dance. Riley watched from her assigned seat wondering who would end up seated next to her. The seat went empty for the first part of the afternoon. 

“That was a beautiful ceremony. You know, I have seen pictures and heard tons of stories about Drake from Savannah, but he has really grown up. He is a hottie.”

“He’s ok.”

“Wow, just ok? Huh? I’m wounded.” he says in a raspy voice. 

“Drake!”

Mack and Riley blush furiously.

“Raye. It’s good to see you again.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” she smirked.

“Sorry! Drake, this is Mackenzie, Mack this is Savannah’s brother Drake.”  

“Don’t listen to her. She was definitely pleasantly surprised,” Mack said as she extended her hand for Drake to kiss. 

Riley elbowed Mack and Drake laughed as he shook her hand. 

“Good thing I get the honor of keeping you company tonight. My seat was moved next to yours.”

He smiled and Riley’s heart melted just a little bit more. He leaned over to hug her and she immediately flashed back to their dance on the rooftop. 

After their first dance, all the guests were invited to the dance floor. “At Last” by Etta James started to play.

“May I have this dance? And please don’t tell me that your feet still hurt.”

She stood, unsure of what to do in the presence of royalty.

“Your Majesty, we have to stop meeting this way. Shouldn’t you be dancing with your Queen?”

Before he could answer, Drake slipped up behind Riley snaking his strong arm around her waist. Pulling her into his embrace.

“Beat it Li!”

“Miss me yet?” 

“Perfect timing. Small world. You didn’t say that your Mom and sister lived so close to me.”

“I didn’t think it was pertinent information at the time,” he said as he led her in a slow dance. Riley watched Queen Carsyn over Drakes shoulder, as she shot daggers at King Liam. 

“Is he always like that?”

“What?”

“Liam? Is he always so tactless?”

“I’m not at liberty to comment,” he chuckles.

“Question asked, question answered.”

“Enough about Liam. Have I mentioned how stunning you look?”

“No, but thanks for the compliment anyway.”

She smiled, getting lost in his eyes as they swayed to the music.  

After sitting and watching Drake and Riley dance and flirt for hours Mack was about ready to go.

“Ri, I’m about ready to head out.”

“Riley reluctantly said her goodbyes to Drake, not knowing when she’d see him again. 

After a short drive back to her place they arrived to see a red Jeep sitting idle in front of her door waiting. Riley looked at Mack and shrugged her shoulders. When she had said goodnight to her friend, she headed to the door. The window of the Jeep lowered, “Hey, could you tell me where to get something good to eat in this neighborhood?” 

“Drake! What-- how did you know where I lived?”

“Guestbook.”

“Well, that isn’t creepy at all.” 

“I’m hungry and thought you might be hungry too.” 

“So, where to?”

“I don’t know, I have only been here a few weeks.”

“I know a place.”

Drake gets out of the truck and walks around waving at Mack, who is still watching from her car. He opens the door for Riley and grabs her by the waist helping her into the truck.

“Really? Such a gentleman.”

He smiles as he heads back around. Mack lowers her window and says, “I took a picture of your license plates just in case she doesn’t make it back.”

“Noted.”

“Thank you. So where are we going?”

“Whataburger. I can’t get that in Cordonia.”

“What the what?”

“You’ll love it, promise and it’s on me. Seat belt.”

“Let me ask you a question?”

“Just one?”

“God no, I have a million questions.”

“Ok, I will try my best to answer them.”

She thinks of what she wants to ask first.

“What did you honestly think when you saw me today?”

“That I am not this lucky.”

A blush crept across her face as she awkwardly shifted in the seat.

“Why do you live in Cordonia if your Mom and Sister are here?”

“Work is there. Besides, I have never had a good reason to come back.”

“I see.”

 Her face betrayed her, she was feeling conflicted and defeated and it showed. They drove along the dark road quietly for a few minutes.

“So, uh, you must do important work in Cordonia for you to stay there instead of here with your family.”

“If you want to know what I do for a living Raye, just ask.”

“You told me not to and I respect your wishes.”

“Well, some would consider it important. My family won’t be here for long, Sav and my nephew are moving to Cordonia this week. I’m the lead for the King’s Guard.”

“You mean you protect Liam?”

“Yeah,” he says as he rubs the back of his neck.

Just then they pulled into the parking lot. The line in the drive thru was long so they headed inside. He held the door open for her and when they stood in front of the counter he stood directly behind her as they both looked up at the menu. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms when he noticed her shiver. 

“Cold?”

“Yeah, a little. Also, overwhelmed with this menu. Order for me?”

A mischievous grin crept across his face as he placed his suit coat around her shoulders. 

After an hour of probing conversation, many laughs, and eating a deliciously greasy burger, heavenly fries with as Drake called it “fancy fucking ketchup,” they headed back to her place. 

“Drake, I’m not ready for tonight to end,” she confessed.

“I know the feeling.”

“Come upstairs with me?”

“Riley Elizabeth Raye! What kind of guy do you think I am?”

“The kind who steals people’s personal information out of wedding guest books.” 

“Checkmate.”

“Besides, I have had these shoes on since this morning. My feet! Anyway, we can watch a movie and chat for a little while.”

“I have been told I give a mean foot massage.”

“Are you offering?”

He licks his lips and bites his lips. Her center twitched.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what? Why are you looking at me like you want to climb in my lap?

Her cheeks flushed red.

“You wish.”

“Enough about that, let’s talk about our first real date.”

“Who said I wanted to date a guy with no real reason to come to Dallas?”

“Whoa, that was before.”

They headed up to her apartment. He stood so close to her in the elevator that she could feel his body heat. They had a staring contest that she lost. She definitely looked away first. It was like he was staring into her soul. The sexual tension was thick and she felt relieved when the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. 

“Long distance dating is not exactly something I want to pursue.”

“Understandable. I’m here now. Let me take you out tomorrow.”

“What would that look like?”

“Dallas Jazz fest is tomorrow.”

“And you just happened to know that off the top of your head?”

“I might have done some research on my phone when I learned that a certain lady whom I’d like to impress was within my grasp.”

She chortled, “you like jazz?”

“No, but if I get to spend time with you it can’t be that bad.”

“You’d do that for me?”

They step inside her place and he makes a face. 

“What is it?”

“Your place smells exactly like I expected, fruity.”

She invites Drake to sit as she kicks her shoes off. She moves around the counter and opens the fridge grabbing a couple bottles of water, a bottle of Glenmorangie, and a couple glasses. 

“Raye, this is the good stuff. It’s really expensive. Sure you’re sharing?”

“Completely, pour me one too? Be right back,” she says as she headed into her bedroom to change and freshen up.

When she returned, Drake cleared his throat at the sight of her barely there clothing change. 

They settled on the soft couch as Drake passed her the tumbler of whiskey he poured for her. She eyed the drink as he stared at her. 

“What are you looking at?”

“Your umm, outfit? Comfy?”

“Yes. Very. Should I drink this? I didn’t see you pour it.”

“Good grief, switch with me.” Drake says before raising his glass.

“Cheers, to the best reason I ever had to come back to the States.”

She bit her lip trying to contain her smile.

“Well then, after a toast like that you get to pick the movie.”

She later regretted being so generous. Drake chose FACE OFF. They started off good, he pulled her aching feet into his lap and rubbed them until she was sure she would orgasm. She pulled away crossing her legs in a twisted attempt to save her panties. 

She loved the movie but knew she couldn’t get through any of the scenes when they ran their hands down the others face to wordlessly say, I love you. So as much as she tried she sat with tears running down her face for much of the movie. The first time she cried Drake pretended to ignore it. She wiped her face on her. The next time she cried he looked at her with a raised eyebrow and the final time he pulled her into his arms and wiped her tears.

“You definitely get to pick a movie that won’t make you cry next time.”

“Next time? You really want to go out with me, huh?”

“I thought that was clear by now.”

  “Drake, can I be honest?”

“I’d prefer it.”

“I have never dated a white guy before.”

He feigned shock. Then laughed. 

“We have that in common because I haven't either. Is that all?”

“No, I didn’t expect to like you this much.”

“Have you dated a black woman before?”

“No.”

“Are you ready for family and friends to turn their backs on you? For strangers to shoot us dirty looks in public? For all of the things that come along with dating me?”

“I guess I never really thought about it. But I’d like to think that it would be a small price to pay to be with you.”

 They chatted until they both fell asleep. The sunrise plucked him from his slumber. She had fallen asleep in his arms. He watched her for a few moments fighting the urge to kiss her. He untangled himself from her and used her restroom. When he returned, she was awake. 

“I thought you finally came to your senses and left.”

“I don’t scare easily. I’m headed back to the ranch. I’ll pick you up around 6pm.”

She stood and they shared a long embrace as she secretly sniffed him trying to memorize his smell before she let him out.

Back at the ranch

“You stayed out all night. Did you get some trim?”

“No.”

Figures. You wouldn’t know what to do with all that ass anyway.

“And you do?” Carsyn interjects.

“Carsyn, I didn’t realize you were back from your morning run.”

“I knew that you wanted to fuck her. I saw the way you were looking at her at the wedding.”

Drake stands, “This seems like a personal conversation. Call me later Li.”

Liam shakes his head and turns to his wife. 

“You are always making a big deal out of nothing. I have given you everything. You knew who I was before you married Me. You are the queen. Why are you so insecure?”

Tears filled her eyes. 

“Name one thing you regret in life?”  “Well, for starters, I married you.”

Liam stormed out of the room to find Drake in the hall on the phone with Riley. When Drake sees Liam he ends the call.

“Drake Walker. Your nose is open. I know you think you like her but, do you really want to start seeing a black woman? They can be a lot.”

“Don’t be an ass Li, any woman can be a lot. But it’s different with her. She is so chill. Like it’s easy with her.” 

“If it’s so easy, why didn’t you close?”

“I said that it’s easy to be with her. Not that she was easy you, prick.”

“Just be careful Drake. You know what they say… Once you go black…”

“Li! For fucks sake.”

“I’m just saying. I’m going out tonight so if you need a trial run Carsyn will be here alone.”

“Did you just give me permission to fuck your wife?”

“Sure, everyone knows I’m not.”

“Hard pass.”

@txemrn​​​ @pixie88​​​ @secretaryunpaid​​​@khoicesbyk​​​ @blackkingliamstan​​​ @mom2000aggie​​​ @shannonwrote​​​ @hopelessromanticmonie​​​ @fanjessfic​​​ @rideordiechronicles​​​ @lucy-268​​​ @dcbbw​​​ @darley1101​​​ @maurine07​​​​ @sfb123​​​ @bbrandy2002​​​ @kingliam2019​​​ @schnitzelbutterfingers​​​ @lem-20​​​ @choicesficwriterscreations​​​​ @theworldofprompts​​ @no-one-u-know​​

TRR: @twinkleallnight​​​  @bebepac​​​ @mainstreetreader​​​ @romereadingshop​​​ @romewritingshop​​​ @lem-20​​​ @texaskitten30​​

[illegal-spiegel]

Firsts with Kyoya

Pairing: Kyoya Ootori x f!reader Genre: Fluff, vv light smut Warnings: smut at the end. CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP

First Meeting:

surprisingly enough, the way you two met was through his father 

you just moved from America and your dad had business with Kyoya’s 

after meeting you, Kyoya’s dad, Yoshio Ootori, was determined to have you meet his son 

you made arrangements to come back when his son was there, wanting to please your father

it’s hard to do such a thing 

you are an only child and a female 

in America, it would’ve been easier to take over his company

but in Japan? 

it’s near impossible now 

either way, you do all you can to make the man happy  

and if making an arranged marriage with this boy would do that, then you’d do it in a heartbeat 

even if you’d rather marry someone you love

you came back the next day for lunch, sitting at a big table with the Ootori family and your mother and father 

Kyoya was nowhere to be found 

suddenly, you hear a boisterous voice come from outside of the large dining room 

“But, Kyoya! I need help with my Japanese! I also want to use one of those Kotatsu things!” you hear someone shout in Japanese, but with an accent 

you don’t hear a response

instead, you hear a maid softly tell the gentlemen that Kyoya’s family and the guests are waiting in the dining room 

there are then quick footsteps to the dining room 

two maids open the door and in strolls a blond and a raven-haired male 

they both stare at Mr. Ootori before looking around the table 

both of their eyes eventually stop on you 

“Son, you’re late, and you brought a guest,” Mr. Ootori says with a hidden emotion

they are both silent for a moment before the blond speaks up 

“Sorry, Mr. Ootori. I can leave. I held Kyoya up an-”

“It’s alright. Why don’t you both take a seat?” he says in a sugary sweet tone, motioning for a maid to set another place down for the blond 

Kyoya was sat right across from you 

his gaze makes you feel insecure all of a sudden 

“Sorry about being so late. I’ll make it up to you somehow,” Kyoya apologizes to your family 

your father speaks up first, smiling at him as he did so 

“No worries, young man.” 

you could hear his American accent when he spoke 

he then glances at you, expecting you to say something  

your eyes widen at this realization as you clear your throat 

“Oh, uh, yes. It’s quite alright. We were quite early, anyway,” you reassure 

Kyoya gives you both a smile, it seeming a bit fake to you but you weren’t about to call him out on it

“Let’s eat,” his father announces 

from there, you ate in silence and only spoke when spoken to, just like your father taught you

about halfway through lunch, the blond started speaking to you 

he introduced himself and you both started a conversation from there

you couldn’t help to let the serious facade fade and to smile at the boy 

he was very sweet and funny, even if he was kind of loud

you discovered he’s quite goofy 

after dinner, Mr. Ootori offered to show your dad to his office to talk further about business plans 

he instructed his son to ‘entertain’ you 

you, Kyoya, and Tamaki made your way out

“What would you like to do, Miss (L/n)?” Kyoya asks in a formal tone 

you hold back a frown at his tone 

is he always so serious? 

“Let’s go to the garden! I’m sure (Y/n) would like it!” Tamaki basically shouts 

Tamaki offers you his arm, which you happily take

he then leads you to the garden which you did, in fact, fall in love with 

Kyoya was relieved that Tamaki was easily able to entertain you but knew his father would be mad at him if he found out it wasn’t his son who was the one entertaining you

so with that thought, he comes over to you and starts informing you on the different flowers, their meaning, etc. 

you spend some time with the two boys in the garden before hearing your dad’s booming voice

you turn and see your father waiting on you, nodding your head to let him know you heard him

you turn back to the boys and flash them a smile, bowing to them since you read that’s what you’re supposed to do when thanking someone

“Thank you for showing me the garden. See ya later,” you thank before walking away to go over to your father

Kyoya’s eyes follow your figure as you leave, the gears in his mind churning 

First Time Hanging Out:

Kyoya’s father never told him why exactly he had to interact with you so much

“Text Y/n.” “Invite Y/n over for dinner.” “Give Y/n a call.”

and now, he wants him to take you out

his father made reservations for you two at one of the most expensive restaurants in the area, then making plans to go see a musical 

when you saw a limo outside of your house, you grew very nervous 

this felt like a date

but like not a date?

Kyoya was taking you to places that couples go on dates but Kyoya just didn’t really seem interested in you? 

you get into the limo with a smile slapped onto your face, kindly greeting the handsome male 

he greets you before going quiet

he then remembers that he’s supposed to get you to like him or whatever his father said 

so, he strikes up a conversation with you  

you quietly respond as he speaks to you, feeling a little uncomfortable 

about halfway to wherever you’re going, he seems to give up on talking to you 

you feel a bit guilty for not really participating in the conversation but how could you?

he was acting like someone is holding a gun to his head and forcing him to talk to you

you sigh as you stare out the window, your eyes lighting up at the sight 

the sun was setting, making reds and oranges paint the sky

Kyoya notices the look in your eyes, a weird feeling coming up in his chest 

he helps you out of the car once you reach the restaurant, not seeing the expression on your face

the said expression on your face is one of shock 

sure, your dad is a CEO of a company but that doesn’t mean you are insanely rich and get to blow your money on whatever

your dad gave you money when you asked for it 

which is close to never 

as you both take your seats, your entire body is stiff

you felt like if you breathed too much, you’d knock the expensive vase full of flowers off the table somehow 

Kyoya notices your tense state but doesn’t comment on it 

when you’re brought your menus, you try to find the cheapest thing available, which is not cheap at all in your book 

you didn’t even have an appetite anymore 

finally, Kyoya can’t take it anymore 

“Would you like to go somewhere else?” he offers

you let out a breath of relief, nodding your head with a small smile

“Yes, please,” you whisper

he offers a hand to assist you to stand up, you lightly taking it 

once outside, he turns to face you 

“Where would you like to go?” 

you look around before spotting a McDonald’s, smiling as you point it out 

“I want to go there,” you say with a bright smile 

Kyoya internally groans at the sight of the greasy place, wondering why you’d want to go there out of all places 

“Alright. Let’s go,” he says in an almost monotone voice 

you happily lead the way, your stomach growling a bit 

you didn’t really care for McDonald’s all that much but it reminds you of home 

of America 

you order for the both of you and pay before he can even blink 

you lead him to a table once you get your food, giggling at his expression 

“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”

he studies the food as you eat a fry, acting as if it’ll start moving 

“It’s fine. Besides, you paid for it,” he says softly, picking up a fry and slowly eating it 

he wouldn’t admit it out loud but it didn’t taste that bad 

you both eat and, surprisingly, have a proper conversation 

you seemed much more relaxed and happy as you ate the fatty food 

Kyoya just didn’t understand you 

after you both finished eating, he told you about the musical 

you agreed to go to that since you changed the food plans 

you go together and you both actually enjoyed it. It was entertaining in different ways 

once he takes you home, you were kind of sad to leave 

he and Tamaki are the only things you have close to friends 

First Dance:

okay yeah, so, normally people don’t dance unless they go to a school dance or their significant other is just that romantic 

but the Ootori’s are far from normal 

they hold some sort of ball every year for some reason or another (you weren’t really listening)

your father made you dress up like a princess

makeup and all (you look kinda like a clown in your opinion. Your face feels ten times heavier)

after knowing Kyoya and Tamaki for a while now, you were all kind of friends now

if you can call it that 

you and Tamaki are for sure

you hang out all the time

Kyoya though? 

you weren’t sure if you could call him a friend 

Tamaki told you that they associate with each other because of a club

Kyoya would have no interest in him if there wasn’t something for him to gain 

it broke your heart to hear that 

Tamaki is such a caring person who deserves the world, in your opinion

he’s been through so much, he deserves to have a best friend 

I suppose he sees you as his best friend 

anyway, you eventually reach the Ootori estate after a boring drive with your father (he kept telling you how to act, eat, walk, speak, blah blah blah)

you head up the steps as soon as the door is open for you, taking in the fresh air with a smile 

 as soon as you get inside, you feel suffocated again 

you wanted to run to the garden, which is where you normally go when visiting the Ootori’s

your father is right behind you though, leading you to the long table piled with food 

you realize it’s because that’s where Kyoya is 

he ‘drops you off’ there before walking away to speak to important people 

Kyoya gives you a nod in acknowledgment before taking a sip of whatever he’s drinking in that fancy glass of his 

you face the table and can’t help but to feel your mouth water 

you’re starving 

your dad is forcing you on this stupid diet to have you be thinner 

‘men like their women thin,’ he said

it made you want to puke 

back in America, he was a pretty chill dad 

ever since we got here though, it’s like there’s a devil on his shoulder whispering all this nonsense to him 

maybe it’s that Mr. Ootori...

you didn’t even realize you’re stuffing your face, literally shoving as much as you can into it, before you feel a tap on your shoulder

you’re still chewing when you turn around, seeing a slightly older gentleman offering his hand to you 

“May I have this dance, Miss L/n?”

you quickly gulp down the food and take his hand with a polite smile 

dad says that you should always accept offers to dance 

you didn’t want to dance with this guy though 

he’s not that much older than you but he’s clearly not in high school anymore 

he also has too much cologne on 

and you just want to stuff your face with those delicious looking Mushi Pan

but alas, you're forced to dance

it seems that a slow song starts just as you step out onto the dance floor 

you’re are about a minute into the song before someone taps on his shoulder, making him pause and turn around 

“May I cut in?”

the guy huffs a bit but nods his head, bowing to you a bit before stalking off 

you bite back a smile as Kyoya takes ahold of your hand and waist

“Didn’t take you as a dancer,” you tease, letting your hand fall onto his shoulder

he hums as he looks anywhere but you as he replies

“I’m talented in many subjects, including dancing.”

you roll your eyes at his bragging, sighing as you look away from him

“That man was a terrible dancer,” he continues when you don’t reply 

you frown at his words, refusing to look at him 

“Reminds me of you trying to cook pancakes,” he teases.

you gasp in mock offense, taking your hand off of his shoulder to hit his chest

“I am great at making pancakes!” you argue, trying not to smile 

a small smile graces his face as he disagrees with you, playful banter being shot between you both 

neither of you realized how long you’d been dancing until his father starts making a speech (apparently he does it every year towards the end of the ball)

Kyoya leads you off the dance floor and back to the food 

“I heard your stomach grumble as soon as you saw the Mushi Pan,” he teases

it’s kinda weird to hear him be so playful 

you lightly shove him before grabbing one of the spongey desserts, taking a bite of half of it and moaning 

“These are literally so good,” you mumble around all the food in your mouth

you were too busy falling in love with the soft yumminess in your hand to realize that Kyoya was giving you the softest look 

okay, maybe he did have a soft spot for you

First Time Giving a Compliment: 

you both are at that phase where accidental touches aren’t so accidental anymore and you’re a lot shyer around him now 

he seems just as confident in himself as always 

so, when he walks up to you while you’re talking to Haruhi and asks you to go to the mall with him 

you’re shocked 

you, of course, agree, trying not to blush

you both head to the mall after the club is done for the day

you both walk around, going into a few stores

neither of you really buy anything 

eventually, Kyoya’s need to shower you in gifts kicks in 

he leads you into a store that he thinks you like and asks what size stuff you wear

you’re embarrassed to tell him things like your pants’ size 

what if he thinks you’re fat?

he doesn’t react in any sort of way really when you tell him 

he then starts walking around the store, picking out things that catch his eye and things he thinks you’ll like 

he then comes back to where you’re standing, admiring a necklace

he hands you a bunch of clothes and tells you to go try it on 

you walk into the dressing room, trying on a pair of jeans and a shirt he picked out 

he’s sitting on a plush chair and looking around when you come back out 

his eyes instantly snap to yours before roaming your body 

he smirks and gives a nod 

“You look good.”

a blush instantly slaps onto your face, biting your lip to hide your smile 

“Thank you,” you whisper

you then scurry back into the dressing room, staring at your reflection 

did that just happen?

did Kyoya Ootori really just give you a compliment?

you silently squeal and jump around happily 

Kyoya watches in amusement as your feet go up to hide behind the door before coming back down to meet the floor 

he can clearly see you fangirling but doesn’t call you out on it

after trying on everything and picking out what you like, you both make your way to the register 

as soon as the cash register says the price, Kyoya is handing over his card before you can even reach for your wallet 

you gape at his card before gaping up at him 

“Why would you do th—”

“Oh, I want to purchase that necklace too,” Kyoya says cooly as he points out the necklace you were eyeing earlier 

“No! We don’t need anything more. Thank you,” you say before the cashier can move

they look between the two of you, trying to decide who to listen to 

“Don’t waste more of your money on me, Kyoya,” you plead, already feeling bad

he sighs before waving his hand at the cashier, nodding his head 

“Alright, that’ll be all.”

you relax at his words, picking up your bag once the cashier hands back your receipt and his card 

you then quickly head for the exit 

Kyoya whispers something to cashier before following after you 

you then quickly lead the way out of the mall, feeling embarrassed and guilty for having him pay for you

Kyoya didn’t mind one bit though 

he’d buy you the world if he could 

First Time Giving You a Gift:

you guessed it 

he went back for the necklace 

and gave it to you for your birthday

your heart didn’t know what to do with itself 

you ended up throwing your arms around him for a hug

he kissed your forehead and held onto you tightly 

this was your first hug 

and man, neither of you wanted to let go 

but alas

you can’t stay in each other’s arms forever 

you tried for a while though before the gang started gagging at the two of you 

you pull away and smile bashfully up at him as you thank him again 

he then asks if he can put it on you 

you hand it over to him and turn around, pulling your hair up 

he slips it between your arms and then pins it behind your neck, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders afterward

you then turn back around with one of the brightest smiles he’s ever seen 

“It looks good on you,” he whispers 

he gets like this now 

all sweet and mushy, even in public 

he liked to keep it as private as possible though, hence the whispering

you try to contain your blush, but it’s impossible at this point

“Thank you,” you say again

First Kiss:

okay so 

I’m sure you guessed this as well 

he initiated it 

it kinda surprised and didn’t surprise you both at the same time 

like 

you both had your suspicions that you liked each other (it helped that literally everyone constantly told you both that you are head’s over heels for each other) 

he took you on a date 

and no, it wasn’t at some fancy schmancy place 

it was at night when he texted you and asked to hangout 

you had to sneak out of your house 

and there was Kyoya waiting for you outside your house 

you both were driven around for what felt like ever before finally reaching your destination 

the middle of nowhere 

you made a joke asking if he’s actually a serial killer and this is where he takes his victims to kill them 

he, of course, joked back and said yes, but you are his favorite victim 

you playfully gushed as he went to the trunk (you made another joke saying he’s getting his ax)

he pulled out a picnic basket and a couple blankets 

you raised a brow as you helped him hold some of the stuff, letting him lead the way 

he led you into a field, the grass going up to your thighs 

then, Kyoya steps into a clearing 

you actually gushed this time when you noticed it’s in the shape of a heart 

“How romantic,” you teased as you set the big blanket down 

it’s getting dark outside but you swore you could see a blush dusted over his cheeks 

you set everything up before getting comfortable 

he then pulled all the food out of the basket, making your heart melt (and your stomach growl) 

he made all of your favorites

no, not the chef 

he did 

you gave him a kiss on the cheek before starting to dig in 

you both talked to each other quietly despite the fact that you two were the only ones out there 

you both admired the sun as it sets 

more so you since he was too busy looking at you 

you both stayed out there for hours. Cuddling, holding hands, sharing secrets, all the goods 

at one point, you both had stopped talking and were just staring up at the stars 

you felt eyes on you, making you turn your head to find a pair of brown-grey eyes focused on you 

you blushed as you studied his eyes 

he’s the only one you know with eyes like that 

you couldn’t see his eyes at one point cause he closed them and leaned in, connecting your lips 

your heart lurched into your throat, deciding it belonged there instead of your chest

you both kissed for a moment before pulling away 

you smiled bashfully at him, feeling a blush coming back to your face 

“That was my first kiss,” you admitted softly 

his eyes widened before he relaxed, smiling back at you 

“Me too. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did,” he whispered

you giggled like a schoolgirl at his words, nodding your head 

you then leaned back in and gave him another kiss 

that happened throughout the night 

after he had asked you to be his girlfriend

First Time Having Sex:

(you remember that episode where Kyoya tugs Haruhi onto the bed and like get on top of her?)

(YEAH BRO)

(that shii hit different)

so 

there you two were

casually hanging out with everyone on your little vacation AFTER HIGH SCHOOL AS ADULTS

Tamaki absolutely refused to let you two share a room 

he said you’d be safer staying in ‘daddy’s’ room

Kyoya straight up told him, “Over my dead body.” 

the twins thought it was hilarious 

you ended up getting rooms right across from each other 

you and Haruhi were sharing a room cause “You two can bond!” 

Tamaki and his ideas, you swear 

you didn’t mind though 

it was fun having girly time with Haruhi 

but you wanted to see your boyfriend 

so, once Haruhi fell asleep, you snuck across the hall to see Kyoya 

and there he sat 

looking tall, dark, and handsome 

he had just got out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his torso

and shirtless

cleanup in the doorway cause there’s drool everywhere 

it was then you realized you never really get to see him without his glasses 

he stood up silently, walking over to you 

you flashed him a smile, extending your arms a bit as you waited for a hug which is normally how you greet each other 

that clearly wasn’t what he had in mind 

your eyes widened as he tugged on your arm and forced you onto the bed 

you’re pretty sure your heart flew out of your chest and is now somewhere on the floor 

he quickly crawled onto the bed and hovered over you, staring down at you with clouded eyes 

“Oya?” you whispered your nickname for him, your eyes wide as he just silently took you in 

you hadn’t changed out of your swimsuit yet from being on the beach all day 

you had one of his button-up t-shirts on though, which was enough to cover you up 

he didn’t reply as he leaned down to connect your lips

normally, your kisses don’t last long and are super sweet 

or are passionate and include some groping 

this kiss though? It felt fiery and new and exciting 

you instantly returned it, humming softly 

his hands started to roam, starting at your thighs and ending up on your stomach 

he then lifted his hands to start to undo the buttons of his shirt 

once the buttons were all undone, his hands go back to wandering 

he stopped below your chest and pulled back to look down at you, silently asking for permission 

you let out a shaky sigh and nod of your head 

after experimenting with your chest, he started to get serious 

foreplay lasted for a good bit, seeing as how this is both of your first time doing it together

when it came time to do the actual deed, he pulled away to go to the table he was sitting at previously 

you watched him with furrowed brows, your naked body going cold without his touch 

he picked up his wallet and pulled out a condom, turning to you with a smirk 

you snorted with a raise of your brow, leaning back on your elbows 

“You brought a condom? Confident are we?” you teased 

he smirked darkly as he walked back over to you, standing by the side of the bed as he slipped it on 

“I didn’t bring just one,” he said in a deeper tone than normal 

your face instantly got hot

he then took his time with you 

letting you adjust and making love to you 

he wanted it to be perfect for you 

for the both of you 

you felt like you were in heaven 

though, god was probably frowning at you 

you snorted in the middle of Kyoya pulling out to thrust back in 

“Are you laughing at me?” he questioned with a brow going up to hide in his loose hair 

he didn’t even bother giving you a chance to reply and explain 

he just started going faster, making you forget anything you were going to say 

once you both climaxed, he cleaned you both up before holding you in his arms 

you didn’t mean to fall asleep in his arms

but you did 

the next morning, Tamaki came to Kyoya’s room to wake him up, seeing as how everyone else was already at breakfast except for you and him 

Haruhi said you weren’t in the room and she figured you went to the beach as soon as the sun started to rise since you talked about wanting to go shell hunting while enjoying the sunrise 

he didn’t bother knocking and just walked in 

he yelped in surprise and turned around, getting that famously dark blush of his 

Kyoya had his famous murder gaze as you held him back 

“I swear I didn’t see anything!” Tamaki yells as he takes off down the hallway 

Masterlist 

more with ohshc

[hydrangeahug]

Solodeus Week Day 2!

Road Trip | Cooking

Ao3

Note: it's only day two and I'm already going insane </3 fun

"Let's go on a road trip!" He said. "It'll be fun!" He said. But they have been spending exactly 3 hours in the kitchen and not a single one on the road, all because Solomon decided that they would need something to eat for the trip.

Asmodeus was leaning against Purgatory Hall's kitchen counter while Solomon was cooking something that even god would refuse to lay his eyes on if he was held hostage. "Solomonnn… let's just get something from a restaurant when we find one… we could've been on our way for three HOURS now!!" Asmodeus said, while looking at the abomination that Solomon considered 'fine cuisine'.

"Yes but nothing tastes as good as homemade food, does it?" That would be true if it wasn't for the fact that they were talking about Solomon's cooking. If Asmo would have to put even just a small bite of whatever that weird purple…thing… that Solomon was preparing then he would not survive to see the beach that Solomon had promised him alive…

Asmo was tired, and they hadn't even spent a single second on the road yet… "What's the fun in a road trip if you don't even try anything that the places you're driving through have to offer?? Come onnnn, I want to sunbathe on that beach you promised me..."

Solomon turned around to give Asmo a quick forehead kiss. "I'll just put everything into some tupperware and then we can leave, okay? Just a few more minutes and we can go, and if you help me I promise I'll give you a massage tonight, deal?" Oh how Asmodeus hated the way that Solomon knew exactly what to do and say to make him do nearly anything… "If you pay for my next spa day on top of that it's a deal."

"Alright, alright, deal."

And after a few more minutes - that definitely felt more like hours- in the kitchen and another 30 minute check on their luggage, they were now finally in their car.

"So the plan is: we go from here…" Solomon pointed to their current location, which was Purgatory Hall, and slowly moved his finger to their first stop. "...to the Devildom Planetarium, it also has a shopping district that we can go to before they open, if you'd like."

The Devildom Planetarium was at the moment talked about everywhere, they had rebuilt a few weeks ago and today was their opening ceremony. They had a human world, a celestial realm and a devildom section. It wasn't the traditional planetarium that people knew, but a planetarium where you can look at the stars of each world and also simulate what it would look like if different planets, stars, or meteorites crashed into each other. They also had a star related restaurant inside that everyone in the Devildom has been talking about. Asmodeus wanted to get there specifically for the star themed food, while Solomon was more curious about the stars and the simulations.

"Oh of course I'd like that! We could go to this hotel afterwards, right? It will take some time before we arrive at the next location, so a break in between would be important." Asmodeus put his finger on the location of the hotel to show Solomon the rough location of where it was. It wasn't very far from the Planetarium so they wouldn't have to drive very long. The Planetarium opened quite late and they would probably spend a while inside so it was good to make sure they wouldn't need to drive for long until they can rest.

"Hmm, good idea. And then we drive for around 12 more hours until we get to the beach. We could take a few breaks in between to check out stores or other interesting places too. Then maybe get to a nice restaurant and hotel for the night and then the next few days are spent at the beach. Sounds good?" Solomon showed the way they had to drive to get there once more before putting down the map and taking Asmo's hand.

"Sounds great!"

It didn't take too long until they arrived at the Planetarium, it was still too early for the opening ceremony though, so they decided to look at a few stores before going back.

There were a few clothing stores, an antique store that Solomon wanted to visit and a restaurant. They had food packed but not only did Asmo not want to smell whatever it was that Solomon made ever again, it also would get him sick, which is the worst thing to happen on a road trip and not something Asmo was looking forward to. "Hey we haven't eaten anything yet, want to go to that restaurant over there?"

"Sure, I've been getting quite hungry anyway. But would you mind going in alone and getting something for both of us? I'll join you as quickly as I can."

Asmo was confused, did he forget something in the car? "Of course but… is everything okay? Did you forget something in the car?"

"Something of the sorts. I just need a few minutes, I promise." Solomon gave Asmo a quick kiss before walking back. Maybe he forgot his wallet? He knew that Asmo could pay too… there was no reason for him to rush back like that. But Asmo decided to ask him about it once he's back and made his way towards the restaurant.

The smell inside the restaurant was amazing, a refreshing change from their morning "cooking". Asmo was brought to a table at one of their windows. The view from his table wasn't towards the street, but towards a small river. It was very pretty, it even had a seating area, maybe they could take a break there after going to the Planetarium? Ah… but maybe it would be too dark then… a pity.

A few minutes went by, a waiter had already brought the menu and a drink for Asmo, yet Solomon was nowhere to be seen. Asmodeus looked towards the door each time he heard it open but the smile on his face dropped the moment that he realised that it once again, wasn't Solomon.

Asmo watched the river outside while he was uncomfortably waiting for Solomon to get back, the fear that he just left slowly creeping into Asmo's mind.

Footsteps made their way towards his seat but Asmodeus just assumed it to be a waiter or a new guest making their way past, until a hand gently held Asmo's eyes closed with a quiet "boo" sound gracing his neck. "I'm sorry that it took me so long, I promise I'll make up for it later." and then a gentle kiss was given to his neck by the same man who had let him wait for way too long for Asmodeus' patience.

"What took you so long…? I was about to go search for you, you know…" Asmodeus said while bringing his eyes towards Solomon who was now sitting on the other side of the desk with his eyes searching for what Asmo assumed to be a waiter. 

"I saw an ingredient that I needed urgently for a potion. But… as it turns out, the 'ingredient' just ended up being a fake plant." Adorable, Asmo thought. Solomon was a good liar usually but right now the slight red decorating the tip of his ears gave him away beautifully. He was curious as to why Solomon was lying but he didn't mean to pry, hoping that Solomon would tell him on his own eventually.

The rest of the day went by well, the Planetarium was more beautiful than either of them expected and it was more than worth the drive there to be one of the first people to get inside after the renovations. Solomon and Asmo made their way to the restaurant that they were at earlier but instead of going in together, Solomon had asked Asmodeus to wait outside.

It was odd. Solomon kept quite a lot of secrets from everyone and Asmodeus was usually fine with it, but today he was acting weird. Asmodeus didn't like it but before he could dwell on it more, a waiter had already held the door open for him.

"Please come in, we apologise for having you wait, I will now lead you to your table if that would be alright."

And so they went inside, but the moment Asmodeus had set foot inside he felt something being off. There was no one in the restaurant. Was it almost closed? Did they spend too long in the Planetarium? Where was Solomon?

Then Asmodeus looked outside, beautiful fireflies flying around the area that he had previously found so pretty, and in between those fireflies stood a desk that was quite nicely decorated with Solomon standing right in front of it.

Oh what did the wizard plan this time, Asmo thought while making his way towards the table outside.

"So, is this a good apology for making you wait so long today?" Solomon said while making his way towards Asmodeus, who was now standing below the night sky full of fireflies.

"Solomon, what…?" But his lips were already caught in a gentle kiss before Asmodeus had any chance of finding the words that had now fully disappeared from his mind.

"Close your eyes for a moment, please." Solomon quietly said against Asmo's lips and he had no will to refuse Solomon when he was looking at him with so much adoration, so he closed them.

Asmo could hear a box being opened and he was about to open his eyes when he suddenly felt cold metal against his delicate neck. He could feel Solomon fidget with the cold chain until he seemed to have finished. Solomon walked back and gave a quick kiss to the tip of Asmo's nose before telling him to open his eyes.

Asmodeus did so and immediately reached for what was hanging around his neck. It was a necklace and a quite pretty one at that. It looked expensive, Asmo wondered how he got it without him noticing and that's when it hit him. So that was why he was so late!

"Do you like it?" Solomon said while taking Asmo's hands into his. "I saw it in a window when we arrived and it reminded me of you. I was worried it would be sold if I had left it there until we were back from the Planetarium."

"Sol… thank you, I love it." And this time it was Asmodeus initiating a kiss, oh how much he loved Solomon. Asmo knew he had to somehow repay him for this beautiful gift during their trip, but for now, all he was able to concentrate on was the man who was shining so brightly under the fireflies' pretty glow.

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of wildfire relief, @jesusonthetortillas​ donated $10, and requested pre-series pining!Sam, with diary discovery. Thank you for donating!

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

After his little lesson from Sabrina, the hot librarian's assistant, it's not hard at all for Dean to find what he's looking for. He drops Sam off at the library the way he usually does, and flirts with Sabrina on his way out like he usually does, but instead of going to his shift at the construction site like Sam thinks he's going to, he circles back around, through the library stacks on the main floor, and waits like a dingus by YOUNG ADULT – ADVENTURE, watching the back of Sam's nerdy, nerdy head where he's hunched at the computer banks, getting up to no kind of good.

It wouldn't have come to this, Dean thinks, if Sam weren't so—he doesn't even know how to think about it. He doesn't know when to pin it down. They were doing okay. Sam ran away, a few years back, but since then he's—well, he's always bitching at Dad and bitching at Dean half the time too, but he's done good in school, he's done his part with the hunting. It was sometime at that last school. September in Maryland. Dad was gone a lot of the time, because Dad always was, and Dean went with him on about half the hunts but Sam got to stay behind, got to just call in research tips and last-minute lore checks, and Dean thought he was pretty happy, as much as Sam ever seemed happy. Chill, just doing his homework at the rickety desk, not complaining any more than usual about Dean's usual dinners of fast food or Kraft or Top Ramen. Seventeen and getting tall and mellowing out, and finally hanging out with his little brother was just fine. Dean thought.

That was two towns ago, three months ago. Dean picks his nails with his pocket knife, leaning on one elbow by the Hardy Boys. Sam's still working away on the computer. Anymore he always is. After school he's always angling for Dean to bring him to the library and if Dean won't drive him then Sam walks, even when it's raining, like it is half the time in frickin Washington, anyway. Always finding a free computer and settling in and disappearing onto the internet. Not coming home until the library closes, and moody if Dean's there when he walks in, and Dean just—he thought they were past all this crap. He thought that maybe Sam had—settled. Figured out how things were, how things had to be.

Well. Either way. Sabrina, with the glasses and the sexy dreads and the legs that very much went all the way to the floor under those wide-legged pants she was always wearing—she gave Dean a computer lesson, free of charge, and he's got a way in, now. Sam won't talk to him, won't hardly look at him. Dean chews the inside of his cheek, watching Sam type on the battered public machine. Sam's not the only one who knows how to research a case, in this family. Dean's going to figure this out. He's gonna fix it.

A bell rings, at five o'clock, like the end of a school day. Sam jerks like he's been shocked and looks up at the ceiling, clearly annoyed. He's been engrossed for two hours, typing away, reading. Real frickin' boring, on Dean's end, but he stayed put. Like staking out a house for a job—nothing to do but wait. He takes a few steps backwards, makes sure the shelves hide his face, and there's a general rustling as people leave—a mom and her kid, and tears because the kid's favorite book wasn't here—and when Dean looks again the computer banks are empty, and Sabrina's checking out the last few patrons, and Sam's—gone. Walking home in the rain, little goth that he is. Fine with Dean, if it gives him a few minutes.

When he settles into the chair Sam was in it's still warm. He opens up Netscape Navigator, the library's homepage welcoming him in a friendly kinda way—big yellow smiley face, that's fun. He goes to where Sabrina taught him, in the menu at the top: view, and then History, where it turns out the computer saves all the webpages you went to just in case you need to find them again, and there—oh, jackpot. Gotcha, Sam.

All kinds of crap. A weather website, a bunch of Ask Jeeves searches, something called DiffEQandU. Some mythology stuff, too, and Dean goes to one that turns out to be a history of kitsune. That's something, at least—Sam doing his important homework, in there with whatever other crap he's been working on.

The last bunch of results are all pages from some website called Livejournal, which Dean's never heard of. He clicks one at random and is brought to—huh. A splashy red page, with a big picture on top of kids graduating from high school in those dorky blue robes. He scrolls down, skimming, looking for the important details among the mess, but it's hard to tell what it is. A forum, it looks like. Kind of like the ones Dean's been on where people trade car parts, or swap ghost stories. A square box, dated yesterday, that says WHEN IS HARVARD'S APP REVIEW???, and a panicky paragraph where some chick might die if she doesn't get in. Another, the day before, with questions about the SAT, and a link that says 43 comments that, when Dean clicks it, brings him to a bunch of apparently teenagers all giving each other tips from some test they're worried about taking.

College. Dean's stomach curls into a knot. It's all—college stuff, applications and tests and deadlines. The usernames are all weird shit: tmntpizzadelivery, quistis4ever, willyshakes. Dean can't tell—is one of these kids Sam?

Sabrina's nearly done with her line of book nerds. Dean rubs a hand over his mouth and clicks away, tries another of the Livejournal results in the history. Another forum, this one apparently about—soccer? Jesus, Sam. Another forum, this one about Conan the Barbarian, and that one's at least easy to snort at, with people's shitty drawings of Red Sonja and excitement about a possible remake. There are personal pages, though, too—one titled Delaware Sucks, in which some girl complains about her life—one titled trent reznor rules my soul, featuring a goth kid who won't shut up about Nine Inch Nails and his bitch of a mother. Another, with a plain blue-and-grey color scheme, with the title on the road, and a new post from today—from an hour ago—with the text just reading, I don't know what to do anymore, and six comments underneath, waiting.

"Hey—ready to go?" Sabrina says.

Dean jerks in his seat. Sabrina's raising her eyebrows at him, behind her glasses, a little smile curving her mouth that promises something a little better than book dust and computer lessons. "I'm always ready," Dean says, grinning, and gets her to roll her eyes—yeah, he's in there—but his eyes drag back to the webpage, the posts. He scrolls down, quick—post after post, waiting to be read. "Real quick—borrow a pen?"

She has one—she's a sexy librarian, of course she has one—and he uncrumples a receipt from his jacket pocket and writes down the URL, careful to get it right. rearviewmirror.livejournal.com. He wants to click on the comments, but.

"Come on, the movie's starting soon," Sabrina says, and Dean closes Netscape, folds the receipt very carefully into his pocket, stands up. He's got a date to make out with a hot chick in the back of a movie theater, and maybe a little more, and Sam's whole Eeyore routine has to take a number. Dean will figure it out. He's got an easy way to run a stakeout, now.

*

December 4

Still can't decide. Anyone else going through this?

current mood: agonized current music: motorhead (AGAIN)

Comments:

teenagehamburger: Yes!! I still don't know where I want to go. Mom wants me to stay close to home, but Delaware sucksssss. Where are you looking?

       rearviewmirror: Anywhere. TBH I'm still not even sure I should apply.

               teenagehamburger: WTF?? Of course you should!! College is the big escape, remember?

 December 1

He's driving me INSANE

current mood: annoyed current music: motorhead (again)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: lol you got it bad

       rearviewmirror: right now I just want to hit him with a brick, actually

teenagehamburger: LOL!! Sorry :(  :(

       rearviewmirror: Sigh. I guess it could be worse, right?

             teenagehamburger: Definitely!! He could be the cute cheerleader from 4th period who doesn't know I exist….

                     coppertonebuttgirl: oh, sorry hammie, that sucks <3

 November 29

The thing is, I don't even want anything crazy? I just want to be—me. Just me, without anyone breathing down my neck. Trig teacher says I could get in to one of the top ten, but I just want to go *anywhere that's not here*

current mood: restless current music: Pearl Jam (home alone!)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: i hear you lol. why don't they get that the rules and hovering and all that shit just makes us want to run faster?

    rearviewmirror: Exactly! My teacher keeps talking about college like it's a place to expand your mind and stuff, and that's fine, but lately I just want to expand my horizons. Kind of ironic?

         bloodofreptile: yeah lol haven't you lived like everywhere?

               rearviewmirror: Feels like it.

teenagehamburger: Is You Know Who going to college too?

 November 18

I feel like it shouldn't be this hard. Normal people have it easy.

current mood: indescribable current music: silence

Comments:

coppertonebuttgirl: feel free to talk to me anytime <3

 November 3

Dad's gone again. Didn't say goodbye. We went to the movies and he gave me a beer, and we watched the stars for an hour in the parking lot even though it was freaking freezing. Happier than I've been in a while. Don’t want it to change but it has to change.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

teenagehamburger: OMG, that sounds so romantic?? I can't believe you were drinking!! Aren't you underage?

     bloodofreptile: lol relax it's not a big deal

           teenagehamburger: I'm just saying!!

coppertonebuttgirl: wish it wasn't hard for you <3

bloodofreptile: dude you've got to say something

     rearviewmirror: I literally can't.

          bloodofreptile: ok but it's gonna drive you crazy. do you even know if he's gay? start with that maybe

*

The posts go on, and on. Reading backwards through time, it's a strange piecing-together. rearviewmirror is active in about ten communities and Dean reads through all of them, that week, bringing an illicit cup of coffee in to the library when he doesn't have a construction shift. He reads with his hand over his mouth and by the time he has to get off the computer he's got a headache, every time, his throat dry and aching.

The journal's been active for six months. Dean clicks through the pages to the very start and reads it in the right order, his heart pounding oddly in his ears. I don't know what this place is. A journal, I guess, considering the name. I just need somewhere to talk where no one will listen.

It's not a pouring-out, like some teenage girl doodling hearts around her crush's initials. He holds back. Never says exactly where they're living, never mentions names. To figure out who it was, you'd have to be one of two other people, and Dean knows that Dad can barely turn on a computer, much less go onto the internet and pore over some teenage angst-fest. Dean spends half his time wishing he were the same. Maybe if he hadn't asked Sabrina for help.

At home, Sam's the same as he always is. Comes home after his own stint at the library, eats the dinner Dean gives him. He reads, most of the time. Does his schoolwork. Dean says, careful one night, "Hey, True Lies is on. Wanna watch?" but Sam only gives him a strange, uncertain look and says, "No, I have a paper due," and he shuts himself into their bedroom with the door very firmly closed, and Dean sits there on the couch alone with a beer and Jamie Lee Curtis being sexy as hell on the fuzzy TV, and he—he doesn't know what to do.

He remembers that day, the looking at the stars day. It was November 2. A nasty anniversary, in their family, and yeah, Dad left. Dean got it. He'd thought Sam did, too, by now. It was better to have Dad gone, on a hunt, than trying to drink himself to death at home in the apartment. At least he was working, that way, and not hurting himself. To distract both of them, Dean picked Sam up from the library and they went straight to the movie theater—the Blair Witch sequel, with Dean providing running commentary about how dumb they were about dealing with ghosts, which at least made Sam grin and elbow him to shut up, even if he was laughing too, the liar—and, yeah, afterward they'd picked up Taco Bell, and then after that Dean swung through the liquor store drive-thru and they parked out, and he let Sam have a beer, and they both sat on the trunk and leaned back against the cold glass or the rear window and didn't really talk, much. The stars, big above them. The night, quiet. Sam was pressed against his side, chilled out and not bitching about anything, and Dean tucked his hand behind his head and he was pretty content with the world, right then. His brother, here, and a six-pack waiting, and nothing happening right then that'd hurt them. Sam smiled at him, that night, before he went to bed. It was sweet—like he used to be, when he was little—and Dean had ended up falling asleep on the couch, watching the public access, but his dreams that night were—good, like they never were on the night of November 2, and it had felt… okay.

do you even know if he's gay?

The college prep—that wasn't a surprise. It hurt but it didn't shock. All his worrying, all his whining, wanting to be 'free'—whatever free meant—it was all part and parcel of the last decade. Dean should've known better. Sam wasn't mellowing out. Sam was a stubborn little shit and he'd always wanted to have a life that wasn't—this.

The gay thing. That hit different. One of the communities Sam followed was for lesbian and gay youth, talking about their coming out experiences. Sam didn't post there much but he commented, asked questions. How do you know? What does it feel like? The hamburger girl was from there, a lesbian chick trapped in some Delaware high school. Encouraging, commiserating. They talked about how college would be their big escape, their chance to go to a big city and find their way. Meet people. Only apparently hamburger girl was crushing on the cheerleader from fourth period, and Sam—

Dean makes an excuse the next day. Saturday: no work for Dean, no school for Sam. Alone in the apartment together, all day, after Dean's week of reading—he can't face it. "Where are you going?" Sam asks, eight a.m. with his hair fucked up and coffee clenched between his hands, and Dean looks at him in his pajama pants and his ratty hand-me-down shirt, skinny and tall and hiding things Dean can't handle, and he says, snappish in a way he doesn't mean to be—"Out, Sam, for christ's sake—" and sees Sam's expression shutter before the apartment door slams behind him.

He goes for a drive, out of town. Cold, threatening rain like it always is, but it won't snow. Out—past the airport, past the suburbs, out to Black Lake. They killed the nymph that was drowning people out here, him and Dad, when they first arrived. Sam stayed home. Sullen on the other end of the line when Dean called to say they'd finished the job, and they were getting burgers for dinner, and did Sam want one. Whatever, Sam had said, like even answering was an imposition. That was November, too.

He sits on the hood, heels braced on the bumper, arms locked around his knees. The lake looks cold. He wants to sink into it, wants to feel that freezing shock, like the polar bear dive he did on a dare back in Illinois. The way the brain just goes blank, tv-static filling up everything and washing all the shit away. All the weird crap you don't want to think about, frozen, and the only thing to focus on just—getting out.

He's not going to dive into the lake. It's nine in the morning and he's wearing his only pair of boots. He hasn't gone out with Sabrina all week. He's been piss-poor at the construction site and McMillan nearly brained him with a hammer yesterday, because Dean wasn't paying attention, and the foreman screamed at him in front of the whole crew. None of that feels close, right now. He breathes the wet-clogged air, cold and mossy, turning his ring restlessly on his finger.

Back at that high school they went to in Raton, Mrs. Encinas in 6th period English told Dean he'd be smart, if he didn't just give up all the time. All he needed to do was take the time to read between the lines, to actually interpret what he was reading and not take things on face value. He made some joke. He doesn't remember what it was, now. Like he didn't know what the fuckin Great Gatsby was saying, when he hoped and hoped and never got what he wanted. When happiness always felt like it was about a thousand miles away, on the other side of a lake he couldn't cross, and hope went out like a snuffed light. Dean can read what's not there. He's done it his whole life.

The problem: Sam's little online journal went back six months. They've lived in four towns, in that time. He never uses names, never puts up anything that'd really identify him. They were in Maryland, August-September-first of October, and it was a comment right at the end of August, on the community for gay kids, talking to the hamburger girl: I like someone, too. He doesn't know. He. The same he that carried forward, through all his journal entries, from Maryland to Washington across whole breadth of the country. He likes classic rock. He drives me nuts. He gave me a beer, and I wanted—

Dean curls forward over his knees, sliding his hands into his hair, breathing hard between his knees. He can read between the lines and he wishes that he couldn't. He wishes—god. What? That Sam would just meet a nice girl and fuck her and get it out of his system? Except how he was writing, it wasn't like it was new. It was something he'd been thinking about. When did you know? had read one of the forum posts, and in the responses, among all the dumb teenage crap about formal dances and jerking off to the wrong person in the music video, there was a comment by username rearviewmirror that said, I broke my leg and he carried me to the car and I wanted to kiss him.

Sam broke his leg in July, the summer he turned fifteen. He'd been trying to stay quiet but he'd had this trapped whimper in his throat that he couldn't stop, and Dad had stayed behind to cover their backs and it had been left to Dean, to scoop Sam up, his whole body quivering with the shock—to hug him close between the trees, humid Georgia night making every place their skin touched slick with sweat—to let Sam cling to his neck, shuddering, and to put a hand on his back and whisper, hey, Sammy, it's not even that bad, huh? no bone sticking out, you did good. we're gonna get you a cast and I'm gonna draw you a great picture, okay, Cindy Crawford with her tits out, right there on your shin and Sam had been so shaky that his laugh sounded like he was crying, but he'd nodded against Dean's neck and chattered out sounds cool, Dean, and when Dean got him to the car Sam hadn't wanted to let him go—so they crawled into the backseat together, Sam still half in his lap and with his arms still tight around Dean's neck. Dad got into the front and frowned at Dean in the rearview, and Dean nodded, and when the car leapt forward Sam gasped and gripped at Dean's shirt when his leg got jostled, and Dean put his hand in Sam's hair and said, it's okay, you're okay, and Sam—wanted to kiss him.

He can't square it. It's like there's some twinned version of his brother, in this place Dean never knew existed. All these secrets he's been hoarding, this other person he's been. These wants that make him a stranger.

He goes back home with stuff for lunch around noon. Sam's reading, in the bedroom. "Got pb&j or grilled cheese," Dean calls, down the shotgun kitchen through the thin-carpeted hall, and Sam calls back, "I'm not hungry," which is a goddamn shit of a lie. He grows like an inch a day, he's never not hungry. Dean braces his hands on the counter and counts to five, in his head. He puts the bread away, and puts the cheese in the fridge. He goes into the living room and turns on the TV and it's college football, which is boring as hell, but it fills the apartment with noise. He wishes Dad were home. He wishes he were hunting.

The Huskies lose. Sam hasn't come out of the room, as far as Dean can tell. He's had—four beers? He looks at the table. Five. It's getting toward dark and it's raining, a-fucking-gain, and Dean's still wearing his jacket and his boots and his ears are cold, because the heater in here sucks, and he's shredded the label of the beer everywhere, everywhere. He brushes it off his knees and that just means it's gonna get ground into the shit-brown carpet, but—who cares. He's got other things on his mind.

He gets the last beer out of the fridge. Should've bought more. "Got some spare cash," he says, to the dark hall. There's a halo of light around the half-closed bedroom door. "Thinking pizza for dinner."

Silence.

Dean pushes the beer bottle against his forehead. "C'mon, Sam. It's not going to kill you to prefer pepperoni or sausage. Just say something."

"Doesn't matter," is the response.

Dean squeezes his eyes closed, slams the bottle down to the counter. It's four steps to the bedroom and the door flies open under his palm. "Just fucking say," Dean says, and Sam's looking at him with big eyes, curled up on the twin bed with his back up against the wall, books spread open all around him. Homework, of course. "Just say it, okay? What do you want?"

Sam stares at him. "I don't care! Get—whatever, pepperoni. Jeez, what's up with you?"

"Sure you don't want sausage?" Dean says, kind of nasty, and Sam frowns, shakes his head. Goddamn it. Dean drags a hand over his face, sags against the door frame. He's—a little dizzy. Oh—okay, so maybe he should've eaten, sometime since this morning. "Damn it, Sam," he says, his stomach twinging.

"What?" Give him this—maybe he's sneaking around, maybe he's lying about half his life, but Sam doesn't shrink back from an argument. He's still in his pajamas. He shoves his notebook away, lifts his chin. "What?"

"Been doing some reading," Dean says, and watches Sam's face scrunch disbelievingly. "Rearviewmirror? You don't even like cars."

It's weirdly satisfying to watch Sam blanch. He's been so unaffected the last little while it's almost a relief to get a real reaction. His mouth parts, his eyes go big. He stares at Dean in total silence except the rain drumming on the roof, and then he says, "That's—private."

"Not that private," Dean says. "You're putting shit on the internet for any asshole to read, Sam. It's not a pretty princess diary with a sparkly lock."

Sam's face is white. He licks his lips, his back rigid against the wall. "How did you—you never—"

"I know how to use a friggin computer," Dean says, and watches Sam close his eyes. "So? Got a lot to say to a bunch of strangers. Might as well say it to me. I mean, I'm your brother, right? Family."

It comes out hard but his voice cracks, on the last word. He swallows and some of the anger dissipates. Sam's jaw flexes and he tucks his hands behind his neck and his knees drag in, like defense. Like he needs defense. Against Dean. Like it's Dean who's wrecking things.

Dean's legs go out from under him. He sits down. Right there, in the doorway to the bedroom, the frame hard against his spine. The rain's loud and he doesn't—what is there to say? "You should've told me."

That's really it. Sam looks at him. Disbelief. "How?" he says, and Dean tips his head back against the wall, looks at the popcorn ceiling, says, "I don't know, it's not my damn secret. But you should've."

"Yeah, that would've gone great," Sam says, sarcastic.

Silence. The rain. Dean drags his hand over his face again, clears his throat. "So. You're—queer." For some reason it seems like the simplest thing to start with.

Sam snorts. "I'm not, like, jerking off to JC Chasez," he says, bitter.

"Who?" Dean says, but shakes his head. "God, whatever. Jesus, Sam, I can't—don't talk about you jerking off. You're not—you don't date chicks, either. Ever. So you're—"

"I don't know," Sam says. Kind of firm. Dean closes his eyes to not look at him. "I don't know, okay? But that's not what—" Pause, while he drags in a breath that's audible across the room. Dean curls over, his forehead between his knees. It's too big to hear. Sam blows out air. "You read the whole thing?"

Frail. Cobweb soft, like if Dean breathed too hard it'd break. Dean folds his hands over his head. "I read the whole thing," he says.

"Don't—" Sam says, quick, and cuts himself off. Dean can't stand it—he looks, peeking up, and Sam's made himself small, there at the head of the bed. His mouth is small, his lips between his teeth—his eyes, big and scared. "Dean. I wouldn't—I swear. I wouldn't—"

"Kiss me?" Sam flinches like from a raised fist, when Dean's all the way over here. Dean licks his lips, dropping his hands so they dangle useless between his knees. "Or, what. Leave? Either way it's pretty fucked up, for me, Sam."

"Oh my god," Sam says, very quietly, and—christ. Looks like he's gonna cry.

"Sam," Dean says, and no matter how pissed he is, that's not—Sam fights back. Sam always fights back, he's frickin' annoying that way. He's not supposed to crack like this. Dean rolls up to his knees and Sam's looking away, neck craned unnaturally so that his face is pointed at the broken-blind-covered window so that Dean can't see, but Dean can—Dean can see his teeth so hard in his lip that the skin there's white, and his chest shaky, and his fist clenched in the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms, and, and—"Sammy," Dean says, again, and Sam's eyes close and there is—shit, shit, a tear, running fast out of the corner of his eye, streaking down his cheek so quick that if Dean could blink he might've missed it.

Dean's gut hurts, like he took a punch from a werewolf and he's gonna be bruised for the next three weeks. He doesn't have anything to say to make it better, not when it's this screwed up. This isn't Sam bitching about Dad or whining about crossbow practice or pouting about a move. Sam's been thinking about this for two years and he's managed to talk about it with people, online at least. Dean's coming at it with a week's slow raw realization and he doesn't know how to make it—not how it is.

He gets over to the bed, on his knees. Sam won't look at him, like the view of nothing through the blinds is the most fascinating thing in the world. There's a wet shining trail, down his cheek to his jaw. A damp circle on his t-shirt. Dean says, because he can't think of what else to say, "You really—you want—" and even then, can't articulate it. A kiss. Sex. A kind of close they've never been. He says, slower, "Is that why you want to go?"

Sam drags in air. Sounds like it hurts.

Dean drags his teeth over his lip. There are books all over the bed. He pushes them away, and Sam's notebook. He pushes up—knee on the mattress, and sinking down to his hip, and Sam's close enough to touch, now, and he jerks and looks at Dean like he's an alien. A ghost. Something that can't be real, only they both know that it is. Dean touches Sam's hand, fisted there in his pants, and Sam jerks again, his stiff shoulders back against the wall, and he shoves Dean's hand but no matter the crazy growth spurt Sam's been having Dean's still stronger, still has the reach—he grips Sam's wrist and yanks, gets him off balance, and then he's right inside Sam's grapple and has his hand flat on Sam's chest, pressing him harder against the paint, and Sam stares at him wild-eyed with his breath both fast and deep and Dean leans forward and presses their mouths together. It's a bad kiss—he barely hits on center, and Sam freezes—but there's the touch of warmth, Sam's lips—soft—and the shocked air hitting Dean's face—and Dean drags in breath through his nose and resettles, fits his mouth to Sam's soft open lower lip and makes it better, his head tipping, easy pressure there, just the faintest amount of suction so that when he pulls back a millimeter there's a little smooch sound, and that makes it—real.

He kissed his little brother. No getting around that. No pretending. His nose brushes Sam's cheek and Sam's not really breathing, and Dean—fuck, Dean does it again, pressing in and letting Sam's wrist go so that he can get a hand on Sam's jaw, tipping him so it's good. Sam makes a tiny noise and breathes out hard against his mouth, and when Dean kisses him for a third time Sam meets it, his lips moving finally out of that still shock, his fingertips brushing Dean's arm all careful, his heart pounding under Dean's hand.

Dean pulls back. An inch between them—not enough but all Dean can seem to manage. He swallows. His lips are tingling, and his eyes are closed and he doesn't want to open them, and his fingers—jesus, he's got them tangled in Sam's hair like Sam's some easy hot chick he's picked up at a dive bar, pressing her up against the wall in the bathroom hallway, knowing how the night's going to end.

"We can't," Sam says. Sam. His voice, steady and familiar. "We—Dean. This isn't—"

"No," Dean says, god knows why. He pulls back, though—pulls his hand out of Sam's hair, stands up. His legs wobble for a second. He has to open his eyes and so he drags in a breath and does, and Sam's sitting there with his shoulders high and tight and his hands fisted on his knees and his hair a little fluffed on one side, a little screwy. His mouth parted and his eyes—fixed on Dean's face, looking all over it. Like he's memorizing a trail map, for an unknown stretch of land.

"I'm drunk," Dean says. It's not true. Five beers—he's buzzed but he knows what he's doing. Sam doesn't contradict the lie. "Acting nuts. Sorry, Sam. I—"

"I want pepperoni," Sam says. His face isn't white anymore. He's flushed, dark pink in the hollows of his cheeks. His eyes are dark, wide and fixed on Dean, and there's still that shining trail on his cheek but it's drying. "Order from that place on Melrose. Garlic knots, too."

Dean backs up a step, pins on a smile. "What, you think I'm dumb? Like I wouldn't get knots," he says, and Sam doesn't smile but he nods, brief and fast like Dean's picking up a play in some con they're running, and Dean snaps a finger-gun at Sam—fuck, what is he doing—and turns out of the room, says—"Okay, dinner in thirty minutes or less or your money back!" and walks through the kitchen and out into the living room and out the front door, and closes it behind himself, and leans against it and stares blindly out into the rain, the setting sun still sparking some tiny golden bit of light out to the west, past the horizon.

He licks his lips and tastes salt, not his own. Sam's hand, on his arm—skimming, brushing light through the thickness of his jacket. Like he wasn't sure he'd be allowed to really touch. He drags in the rain-soaked air. He'll drive, to get the pizza. He'll drive, and he'll give Sam time. When he gets back he'll offer Sam half the pie and a beer, and there'll be some movie on TV that Sam probably won't want to watch, but maybe he will. They'll be—brothers. Dean knows how to do that. It feels like it's all he's got left.

*

It's—not easy but it's not all that hard, either. There's a brutal week where Dean's torn between walking on eggshells and wanting to wrestle Sam to the ground, and Sam goes perfectly silent—not pouty withdrawal or furious silent-treatment, but as still and quiet as though he's not even there. Dean can't bear it. It takes Dad coming home to break it—Dad, and christ, when he calls to say he's coming back Dean completely freezes and his mind fills up with—with—but then Sam looks at him and takes the phone out of his hand and says, his mouth's full—what's up? and after that it's like things… settle. It's not okay but it's livable.

rearviewmirror.livejournal.com goes quiet. Dean checks, occasionally, over the months that pass. When he's looking up some random piece of lore for Dad, when they're hunting alone and Sam's stuck back at whatever shitty hotel they stored him at, and Dean's on research duty because Sam's in high school and can't answer his phone. Dean types in the address and checks, and it's still that last post. Anyone else going through this? He hopes, sincerely, not. It's too fucked up for anyone else to bear. At least the Winchesters have practice.

They run PT. Sam does his homework. Dean watches TV. Hunting focuses things. There's stuff to kill and people to save and things aren't falling apart any more than they ever are, so—Dean deals.

Sam leaves.

*

It's January. Dean's in a library, alone. Dad's working a job north of Boise and he sent Dean down to Wendover to take care of a haunting, and Dean's done and Dad called and said two more days and there's this raw wounded spot where Dean should be able to turn, to look over his left shoulder and say—but it's empty there, and so he's in a library.

Sam started posting again, when he got to school. Small stuff. That he was sorry for the long break. That he'd ended up at a university after all. The hamburger girl doesn't respond anymore but the Nine Inch Nails boy does: thought you were dead, he says, no-caps like he's so goddamn cool, and Sam says, Just working some stuff out.

Sam likes his professors. He plays pick-up soccer with some of the guys from his dorm. His roommate snores. He doesn't listen to music at all. There's nothing—real. There's none of the sadboy shit, nothing about what he's feeling, no pondering of what it all means. He picks up a few different Livejournal friends, clearly people from his classes, who crack jokes about Ancient Civ and Linear Algebra. He joins a community focused around civil rights litigation. He might as well not be there.

Dean reads it all. If Sam's not calling then Dean's gonna check in whatever way he can. When Sam left Dean made sure he had at least one good knife in his bag and he said don't forget the salt when Sam hiked his backpack onto his shoulder, and Sam snorted and looked at him like a gunshot but he nodded, and Sam's not dumb, he knows how to take care of himself, but. Dean's the big brother, here. He's within his rights, to check and make sure baby bro's not being a dumbass.

January and it's fuckin cold, in Wendover, but the library's too warm. Dean keeps his coat on anyway, scrolling through the comms. He's kinda turning into an expert, navigating the pages, recognizing the shorthand. He hasn't made an account. Doesn't know why he would. He finishes his scan of the comms Sam's part of and doesn't really see any relevant posts, and no comments from rearviewmirror that he can find. He chews his cheek and goes back to the main page, thinking—okay, he can get out of here. Beer and dinner, and finding a motel that doesn't look toxic, and waiting for Dad to call. Not the worst night he could have. He refreshes, one last time, just in case, and there's a new post. He reads:

January 23

Done with class for the week. Feeling restless.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

lawblog69: we should go out!!

bloodofreptile: go get laid

Dean snorts. At least the NIN kid is consistent. He refreshes again and there's a new comment.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

    rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

He takes a breath, sitting there at the computer bank. It's quiet in here—the good people of Wendover aren't much for the library, apparently—but he feels like someone's right there. Like he could reach out and touch, when it's just words on a glowing screen. Still—the speed of the comment—Sam's… sitting there. Right now, on a computer in Palo Alto, looking at the same thing Dean is.

He refreshes.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

    rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

        bloodofreptile: still holding onto that? very hufflepuff. how long has it been?

              rearviewmirror: my whole life

Dean presses his knuckles to his lips, hard enough that he can feel his teeth pressing back. Jesus, Sam. He refreshes—another comment, from coppertonebuttgirl, agreeing about the restlessness but apparently she's off to a date with her boyfriend, and Sam responds and says sounds nice :), and jesus, Sam, Dean thinks. Off to have the big college experience like he wanted so bad, off to have that new shiny life, and after five months away he's still all sadsack, still not actually living.

He clicks the comment box. He types, unaccountably mad. He hits submit, and gets a warning that it'll show as anonymous. He waits, and refreshes, and reads:

Anonymous: Just go hit a bar. Live a little. Thought you were supposed to be smart, college boy.

     rearviewmirror: Since when does smart have anything to do with it?

Dean rolls his eyes. He can hear Sam's voice saying it, nettled and trying to sound like he isn't.

Anonymous: You're on here mooning after Cindy Crawford when Claudia Schiffer and Tyra Banks are out there in the real world. Have a beer, get over it.

A pause. Dean has to refresh twice. The librarian walks by with her cart of books and gives him a distracted smile, and Dean's so addled he doesn't actually process and then return it until she's already gone.

rearviewmirror: I don't think it's something you get over. It mattered. It still does, to me.

Dean chews his thumbnail. Sam's face, turned unnaturally, looking out that window at the rain. The wet track, on his cheek.

Anonymous: Matters enough that you're never going to move on?

    rearviewmirror: I didn't think you could move on from family. Maybe I was wrong.

The air goes out of Dean's chest. He turns away from the computer, entirely, swiveling the chair so he's looking out at the lonely bookshelves. He flexes his jaw and swivels back around. Hits refresh.

The thread of comments is gone. He blinks, confused. He doesn't think he was hallucinating—been a while, since he was that tired and drunk. But—oh—in its place, a single comment, under the brief conversation with the NIN kid:

rearviewmirror: Tell me if it's you.

Dean licks his lips. He closes out of the browser, picks up his notepad and keys. On the steps outside it's cold, cold, fucking cold, and this town is bleak. He walks down to the Impala, waiting there in the iced-over grey snow, and braces his hands on the hood, and blows out a long purling winter-dragon breath, and then fishes his phone out of his pocket. Another new phone, but he's got Sam's number memorized, and he almost calls before he chickens out. If it's not actually wanted—he imagines that conversation and he's just not constitutionally capable, right now, of facing how goddamn awkward it'd be.

He texts: It's me.

The response, after seconds: Where are you?

The shitty part of Utah. That's saying something. Easier, like this. Like it's not him kicking down a doorway right into Sam's head.

I don't have class tomorrow.

Could be random, if he didn't know who he was talking to. Dean leans his elbows on the hood of the car, looking at the little box of black-and-white text. He chews his lips and thinks. Before he can respond, another message:

I don't want to move on.

Dean tips his head enough that he's pressing the edge of the phone into his forehead. His fingers are cold. He sniffs, his nose dripping in the icy weather, and types, careful to make sure he gets it right: I'm nine hours away.

Less, if he goes over 100 in the boring parts of Nevada, and if he doesn't stop at all for a catnap.

Stop in Reno for a nap. You get weird when you drive all night. Text me when you're close.

Dean works his jaw, standing there in the cold. He's got nothing to do, for two days. He's got most of a tank of gas. He's got—nothing. Nothing. He gets in the car, and he drives.

It's only 9:30 when he gets to Reno. There were parts of Nevada where he drove very, very fast. He pulls into a truck stop, gets more gas and parks out near where the semis are lined up, the drivers early-birding the night away. Still cold here but less so. He twists around so his back's to the passenger door and looks out the driver window at the neon signs of the truck stop, the cars going in and out of the gas islands. He ate a little but his stomach was all twisted up and he couldn't get much down. A beer would go easier but he doesn't want to be drunk. Well. He does. This is insane. This is—completely stupid.

He pulls out his phone, looks at it. Dials and holds it to his ear, and it rings three times—long enough for him to change his mind four times—before there's an answer, and Sam's voice says, "Dean?"

His voice. Dean closes his eyes, tips his head back against the cold glass of the window. "Long time, no speak," Dean says. It feels rusty.

Sam's quiet for a second, on the other end. "Not really, though. Right?"

"I guess so. It's not the same." Dean listens to the little acknowledging sound Sam makes. There's silence again, for seconds that he counts—one and then two and then three. He listens to the cooling tick of the engine, through it, and then says, before he loses his nerve, "I shouldn't come. Right? This is nuts."

There's some noise, staticky. Like something passed over the mic on Sam's phone. After a beat, Sam says, "You should do what you want to do."

"Oh, should I," Dean says, and it comes out sarcastic, but he doesn't really mean it to be mean. Sam doesn't take the bait, staying quiet on the other end, and Dean opens his eyes again, watching a huge truck muscle past the gas island, watching the normal world go by. He rubs his eye. "I've been—it's been weird, Sam."

Understatement, but he doesn't know why he says it. That kind of stuff isn't for Sam to worry about.

"Go to sleep," Sam says, instead of responding. "An hour or something, just enough so you won't drive off the road. Text me when you're close."

Same thing he said before. "It'll be like three in the morning when I'm close," Dean says, and Sam says, "I'll be awake," and then the line disconnects, and Dean's left there alone again on the bench seat, but it—feels different.

He sort of sleeps, sort of doesn't. He's got a talent for going to bed wherever and whenever he has to—on spare tires and on forest floors and in a closet, once, with a propane tank as his pillow—but his brain won't shut up. He drifts in and out, for the hour Sam asked him for, and then he gets out of the car and goes into the 24-hour c-store and buys a big cup of coffee and a Hershey bar, and points the hood west, and follows the yellow dashed line home.

He texts from a gas station outside Sacramento. Sam texts back in less than a minute with an address. Dean glances at his map of California and responds: 45 minutes, and it's more like thirty when he pulls up to the—yeah, the motel, and he makes a sound that's sort of like a laugh except it doesn't feel like one. He turns into the parking lot and the headlights flash the building, and there, sitting on the sidewalk with his back to a pillar.

Dean parks. Sam has his arms folded over his knees, but he unfurls, stands. Dean gets out of the car and Sam's—jesus, ten feet away, his face totally visible under the streetlight. His hair's a little longer. "Did you get taller?" Dean says, and Sam huffs, his head ducking, and—fuck everything else, it's Dean's little brother, and he drags Sam into a hug, folding his arms over Sam's shoulders even if he has to lift on his toes a little to do it. Sam goes stiff for half a second, but he hugs back, and Dean turns his face in, Sam's hair in his nose like it always is, and feels him—warm, and safe. All Dean ever wanted for him, pretty much.

"You have to get the room," Sam says, when they pull apart. At Dean's eyebrows he shrugs, the corner of his mouth curled. "What? My scholarship doesn't include seedy rent by the hour stuff."

"Oversight much?" Dean says, but he goes in, and he gets a room. Two queens, because that's what the tired miserable little desk clerk says they have available. Means Dean doesn't have to think about other possibilities, and it means that when he dangles the keys off his finger and Sam half-smiles at him, when they've walked down the cold sidewalk side by side, when Dean opens the door and finds the different motel room, same as the first—Sam sits on one bed, and Dean sits on the other, and they look at each other, and it's like it's two years ago and they're just two kids, waiting for Dad to come home.

Sam is taller. Taller than Dean, now. His hair long enough to fall in his eyes, which it does constantly. Newish sneakers, and old jeans, and a hooded sweatshirt, and a denim jacket over the top of that. Not warm enough for the Bay in winter, but Dean bites his tongue before he says anything about it.

"How are your classes?" he says, instead.

Sam's cheek sucks in, like he's chewing it. After a second he says, "You don't want to talk about my classes, man." His head tips. "Anyway. You read about it, right."

It was a mistake not to stop for beer. Dean needs something to do with his hands. "Your algebra professor sounds like an asshole," he says.

Makes Sam smile before he ducks his head, looking down at his lap. "I thought—" He swallows, audibly. He shakes his head, his hair falling down and hiding his face. "Only reason I started posting again was that I wondered if you might still—if you'd check."

It's quiet, honest. Dean hasn't talked to Sam in person for half a year and he's off-balance. Expecting Sam to snark, to be dismissive, to roll his eyes. Small hours of the morning, maybe he's too tired not to be honest. Maybe he's growing up. Dean's not prepared for that.

Sam looks up at him when Dean's silent for too long. His teeth dig into the corner of his mouth and he drags his hand through his hair, gets it off his forehead. "I said I didn't want to move on. You know what I meant, right?"

Dean huffs. "Yeah, I'm not an idiot, Sam," he says, and Sam's eyes tighten. Dean leans back on his hands, tips his head back on his shoulders to look at the ceiling. "Thought this was the whole point of getting out. Getting away, making a whole new life. Being someone else."

"I'm still me," Sam says, unseen. "And it wasn't the whole point. I want a life. That part—whatever, that doesn't matter right now. But I never thought the other thing was going to go away."

He stands up, so Dean can see him. Dean looks at him down his nose, and Sam's—god. Tall. That keeps being his first thought. Tall, and maybe not a stranger, even if he's real damn strange. Sam steps closer, in the little space between the two beds, chewing his lip again. He's gonna make a sore there. "Dean," he says, and Dean raises his eyebrows in response. "You came."

"Yeah," Dean says, rueful. "Well. I'm Cindy Crawford."

Sam's face ripples—a frown, surprise—and then a huffed little laugh—and then he steps between Dean's knees and touches his chest, his jaw. Leans down, slow, telegraphing like they're practicing a fight, and Dean stays exactly where he is, leaned back on his hands, and Sam's mouth touches his—softly. Not hesitant. Dean lets his eyes close and feels it. Puff of air against his face as Sam lets out a tense breath and then another kiss, the damp inside Sam's lip catching against Dean's, and Dean kisses back then, reaching up and getting Sam's jaw, his jacket, fisting the denim and pulling Sam closer. There's a stagger—Sam's knee landing on the bed by Dean's hip, and Dean gets an arm around his lower back and kisses him again, tasting him. Salt, and when Dean kisses him again and presses his mouth open, licks inside, there's coffee-taste, Sam's tongue—slick, tentative—he stayed up, to wait for Dean—his kiss clumsier now, like he doesn't have much practice.

Dean pulls back a few inches. Sam's half-draped on him, his weight nearly in Dean's lap. His eyes are dark but big with surprise, like he didn't expect Dean to go with it. "Sammy," Dean says, and Sam—shudders, his hands closing hard around Dean's shoulders. Okay, Dean thinks, filing that away. He drags a thumb over Sam's jaw, where he's got a barely-there prickle of stubble. "What are we doing?"

Sam shakes his head, licks his lips. "This," he says, holding the side of Dean's neck. "This."

They peel Sam's jacket off, and then Dean's. Sam's still in that hoodie, soft black, and Dean gets his fingers just under the hem of it, barely grazing Sam's stomach, kissing him again—tangled up close on the edge of the bed, Sam's thigh slung over his. Sam keeps touching his face, his chest. His amulet, swinging forward between them when he urges Sam down to his back on the mattress, a knee between Sam's and his hand still there on Sam's belly. Sam grips the amulet and breathes out hot against Dean's face and lifts up for another kiss, which Dean gives him easy, and it's—god, it's good. The lights on, the room warm, Sam wanting underneath his hand. His mouth, slick and open, learning how to press back, how to give as good as he's getting. Dean kisses his cheekbone, his jaw, settles his hand flat on Sam's stomach to ground him, says, "Sammy, you've done this before, right?" Sam hitches breath, nods. Dean sorta laughs, lifts up so he can actually see Sam's expression. "More than once?"

"Twice," Sam says, and when Dean raises his eyebrows he frowns, vaguely indignant. "Jenny Morrison, just before graduation." He licks his lips. "And—a guy. After student orientation, here."

"Playing the field, huh?" Dean says. There's no reason it should make his stomach go molten hot. He rubs Sam's stomach, feels the rise of his breath. "You like it?" Sam nods, again. "What'd you do?"

Sam's cheeks are dark, brick-red. He licks his lips again and Dean ducks back in to kiss him, knocking his mouth open, tasting inside. Earns himself a small deep noise and Sam's hand sliding through his hair where it's too short to grab. He nudges Sam's nose and sits up, peeling off his overshirt. "C'mon. What'd you do? Didn't put that up on your journal, how am I supposed to know?"

"It was a rush party," Sam says, looking at him. He pulls his t-shirt off over his head, making sure his amulet stays put, and Sam blinks heavily, his lips parted. Jeez—it's weird. Hot. Sam wants him, Dean thinks, and it sends a rush of blood south. "He's—uh. Pre-med, smart."

"Not looking for his biography, Sammy," Dean says, and spreads his hands on Sam's hips, pushing up. The hoodie moves, the t-shirt underneath rucks up—Sam's pale here but still that faint all-over tan, darker than Dean's skin. He licks his lips. "What'd you do? Jerk each other off?"

Sam nods, again, his mouth open. God, Dean can imagine it. On some dorm-room bed, their heads leaned together, Sam's mouth open just like this—panting, his hand fumbling down—fuck, fuck it's hot, Sam nervous and into it and trying, making sure. "You liked it, huh?" Dean says, stroking his thumbs over Sam's bare belly.

"Yeah," Sam says, thin on not enough air, his knee drawing up. "But I—I thought about—when you kissed me—" and Dean kisses him again, groaning. Jesus, Sam's gonna kill him. Thinking about some shitty nervous freaked-out kiss when another guy's got his tongue in Sam's mouth. Sam grabs his shoulders, sits up, and Dean accommodates him easy, letting Sam touch him back—Sam's hands sliding down his chest, around to his ribs, grasping. "Dean," he says, panting.

"Let's get this off, huh?" Dean says, pulling, and Sam yanks the hoodie off in a second flat, his hair all ruffling up behind it. The shirt comes with it and there's just Sammy's bare smooth skin, that same pale tan all over. Small brownish nipples, slim muscles. His body. Dean dips and kisses his bare shoulder, licking there, biting, and Sam's nails dig into his ribs so he does it again, swinging a leg over so he's straddling Sam's lap, taking his time. He scrapes his teeth over the swell where Sam's collarbone dips into the arch of his trap, and Sam grips his neck, his back arching. He's hard. Shit, he's nineteen, he has to be hard. Dean slides his fingers down Sam's belly to his belt, tucking under the waist of his jeans, but Sam grips his wrist, then, groaning, saying—"Wait—wait—"

Dean drops his head to Sam's shoulder, groaning back. "We waited," he says, but Sam's hand is on his shoulder, pushing him back, making him look. "What?"

Sam's pink. "Have you—with a guy?" Dean rocks back but Sam's holding him close, looking all over his face. "Dean. Have you—"

"Yeah," Dean says, and watches Sam's ears go red. Sam doesn't need to know when, but it was all in the last year. Three dudes, hookups that were way too easy. They were good—turns out that Dean just likes sex, any way someone will give it to him—and he learned what it felt like to have a dick not his own in his hand, how it felt to slip a cock into his mouth and make a man groan. He hadn't thought about Sam while he was doing it, not really, but he's thinking about it now, and Sam's eyes have dropped, his lips between his teeth. Jealous? Dean smiles while Sam can't see and breaks Sam's hold on his wrist, and slides his hand down, and cups the crotch of Sam's jeans where he's swelling them out. Sam jerks, eyes flying open. "Means I know what I'm doing. Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sam breathes, and then it's—undoing his belt, and unzipping, and then—god, he's still got his sneakers on. Dean backs off and kicks off his boots, deliberately, and Sam blinks at him hot-eyed with his chest heaving and his jeans half-open looking like a friggin porno, but then he gets with the program, and the shoes thud to the shitty carpet and then they're practically racing, undressing, and when Dean kicks his boxers off to the side Sam's—naked, half on the bed, staring at him. Dean stares back, circling a hand around Sam's ankle. God, to look at him, in the lamplight. Long legs, hairier on the shins and lightly furred on the thighs, and a decent dark bush around a dick that's—jesus, that dick. Big, bigger than Dean's, bigger than—Dean licks his lips and looks up with an effort and Sam's staring right back at him, focused between his legs, his mouth parted. "Like what you see?" Dean says, and Sam doesn't answer, just reaches for him, and Dean crawls up the bed and settles on his elbow above Sam with their legs brushing bare, Sam's dick hot against his hip, and Sam kisses him with both hands on his face, his thigh dragging up against Dean's, his lips almost trembly.

Dean soothes a hand down Sam's ribs but Sam's—fuck. Shaking. They haven't even done anything. "Sammy," Dean whispers, between Sam's needing brief kisses, and Sam shakes his head and kisses him again and then ducks his head down, his nose brushing under Dean's jaw. Dean pulls Sam closer—tips, so they're on their sides—and pulls Sam's leg over his hip, pushes in, and—ah, shit, shit that feels good, Sam's big dick brushing in against his, dragging heavy and hot. "Oh," says Sam, small, and Dean slips his hand further and grips Sam's ass, the muscle tight and small—pulls in, and pulls again, encouraging, and Sam grips Dean's shoulder underhand tight enough to hurt but follows, pushing in with the rhythm Dean's urging. He's breathing fast, hot against Dean's throat, but he's got it—humping in, meeting Dean, making their dicks slide, his cockhead smearing wet against Dean's belly. Dean hums, kissing Sam's temple where he can just reach it, just enjoying the—insane way it feels. He lets Sam's ass go and Sam keeps going—good, good—and he licks his fingers sloppy, and reaches down between them, and for the first time he gets a grip on Sam's dick, feels the heft of it. Sam makes a sound like he's been shot and Dean says shh, easy, slicking his hand down to the base, squeezing hard as he pulls back up, and Sam makes another gulping strange sound, his thigh clutching hard around Dean's hip, his hand crushing Dean's lower back in closer. "That feel good?" Dean says, and Sam—comes. Fast, humping in, spurting up Dean's belly and his own, the slick getting all over Dean's dick, hot and wet, the sensation enormous. Dean squeezes him through it, knowing, and Sam humps in again and grabs his ass, nails digging in. Dean tips his head back, feeling it. God, it's good. Sam. His brother.

He swallows. His dick's throbbing, wanting more, feeling left behind. Sammy shudders and Dean licks his lips, pushes Sam back so his shoulders hit the bed. He flops—boneless, shocked—and Dean drags his hands over Sam's ribs, frames his hips. His dick is still big, flushed and wet, his balls clutched up high, and Dean licks his lips and says, "Okay," to no one, and leans down, and gets Sam's dick in his mouth.

A shock, Sam's body practically lifting off the bed. "What," he says, somewhere Dean can't see him—"What are you, oh—" and Dean thinks, oh, what if no one has done this? What if Jenny just opened her legs and she and Sam humped awkward and teenage in some backseat—what if pre-med only wiped his handful of Sam's jizz on the mattress and passed out—what if Dean's the first one, here, opening his jaw wide, careful of his teeth, slicking down, getting the whole fat length of it in his mouth. Only—he can't, fuck, Sam's too big. He fists the base, pulls off, spits and slicks the wet down. When he glances up Sam's up on his elbows, staring, and Dean grins at him, jerks it again, swallows. He can taste Sam's jizz, leftover from coming before. "Hang on," Dean says, and goes back down, letting the head bust his lips open, slicking tight down to his fist, dragging his tongue hard against the underside, suckling easy. Sam takes his statement as an order and grips his head, his shoulder, his hips cringing up into Dean's mouth, and Dean heaves in air, feels Sam firming up again, thick and needing and good.

He's only done this a few times but he—shit, he liked it. Likes it better the other way around, of course, but like this—his dick pressing into the bed, throbbing—Sam splitting open his mouth—yeah, it doesn't exactly suck. He bobs up and down, making sure to pay special attention to the soft ridge at the head, and Sam's making insane noises, now, up above him, petting his head and his shoulders and gripping, trying to shove up. Dean leans into his hip so he can't, fists his dick, pulls off gasping and licking his lips. Sam's still staring, down the length of his torso, and Dean jerks him through the goopy mess they're making—his spit, Sam's precome, what Sam's already come. "You like it?" Dean says, and Sam—rolls his eyes, the little shit.

"You're smug," Sam says, and Dean raises his eyebrows and says, "You're damn right I am," and lets Sam's dick go and goes down, down, no fist in the way until Sam's dick hits the back of his throat and he gags—breathes through it—slurps up with tight lips and then goes right back down, getting his throat used to it, learning the feel of this massive, awesome dick. Sam moans, pushes his hips up, and Dean lets him, rides it—lets Sam fuck up, lets him get a rhythm, like fucking—Sam, fucking his face—and Dean reaches down between his own legs and fists his own dick, finally, groaning in relief and making Sam shudder as the vibration rumbles through Dean's open throat. Sam grips his head with both hands, holding him down, and Dean drags in air through his nose and holds there, filled up with Sam and choking, spit flooding out of his open mouth—the world dark and just Sam's taste, his smell—and Sam makes a little sound—and Dean grunts and lifts off, breaks Sam's hold and crawls up his body, straddling his hips and dragging his dick against where Sam's is all sloppy-hot, dripping wet. Sam gasps up at him and grabs his hips, his ass, fucking up into him, and Dean grips both their dicks in two hands, fucking into the tight wet channel he's making for them both, and Sam pulls at his ass, spreading it, rocking his hips to help, moaning and looking helpless up into Dean's face, and Dean leans down and breathes against him and Sam still comes first, creaming them both, his dick flexing and twitching in Dean's grip, and Dean braces one slick hand on the bed and fists himself seriously, jerking fast, and Sam moans and kisses his jaw and pulls at his ass with those big hands, his fingers slipping low, dipping—and Dean jerks and spills, his belly seizing, his thighs clamping around Sam's hips, Sam's lips open and dragging wet against his throat, his fist gripping the bedspread so hard that his fingers cramp.

Sam's stroking his hips, repetitive and soft, when he's done panting. Dean swallows, shifts his weight. He's slumped on top of Sam, his face buried in Sam's shoulder. Wet between them, sliding, and he releases his dick and slips his sticky hand out, bracing on the bed enough to get some air between them. When he lifts up Sam's eyes are half-closed, but he focuses on Dean's face right away, and his hands stop their stroking and just squeeze, warm and tight. "You okay?" Sam says.

"My line," Dean says, and Sam rolls his eyes again, squeezes again. Dean sits up more but Sam doesn't let go. "C'mon, we should clean up."

Sam's eyes tighten, just barely. He sits up, keeping his grip on Dean, and Dean rocks back but doesn't tip over. He gets a hand on Sam's shoulder to keep his balance and Sam says, steady, "Don't freak. Okay?"

"Who's freaking?" Their dicks are still pressed wetly together, though Dean's basically soft, now. Sam's still plump, thick. He swallows. "C'mon, we're gonna get cemented together," he says, and Sam's mouth purses but his grip goes light, and it gives enough room that Dean can lift off, get his feet under him. Jesus, there's enough jizz on him that it's rolling down his belly—he claps a hand to it before it can drop, smearing it over his abs. "You come like a geyser, dude," he says, not really complaining, but Sam's cheeks are red when he looks back up, and he feels—shit. He doesn't know.

He goes to the bathroom. Fluorescent light, pink-painted sink. He wets one of the five-cent washrags and wipes himself up, and he's not turned on anymore so his thought is mainly that it's just gross, and that bed's going to be wrecked, and also, what is he doing. What is he doing.

Sam's hand appears, reaching around him. He jumps. In the mirror behind him, Sam's tall, looking over his shoulder. Looking at Dean, even as he wets the other rag, cleans himself up. Dean chews the inside of his lip and can't really turn away. Sam's got red marks on his shoulder, where Dean was biting him.

"Stay," Sam says. He tosses his wet rag back into the sink and settles his hands on Dean's biceps, squeezing. When he steps forward his dick presses into the small of Dean's back and his chest is warm, damp. "Tomorrow at least. We've got the room. Stay."

"You want your dick sucked again?" Dean says, and that time it is mean and he did kind of mean it to be, and Sam's eyelids dip and his jaw clenches, but he only slips his hands away from Dean's arms to his ribs, holding him. It feels… Dean shakes his head. "Sam," he says, but there's not really anything that can go after it.

A big hand slides up and over, flattening on his breastbone. "It's not just this," Sam says, meeting Dean's eyes in the mirror, and it makes Dean's cheeks go hot.

He covers Sam's hand with his. He shivers, for some reason. He says, "I should take a shower, I've been in the car all day," and Sam says, "Okay," and Dean takes a shower and Sam sits on the closed toilet, watches him through the clear curtain. Gives him a towel when he comes out. Takes his hips, when he's dry, and presses him to the tiled wall, and tips his head up, and kisses him clean.

Five in the morning, or later. There's a clean bed and Dean hasn't slept in a day. He lays down and Sam lays down with him, a few inches away until Dean relents and turns over, and Sam curls up behind him, holding on, his mouth against Dean's shoulder. There's going to be a call from Dad, at some point. Dean's going to have to meet him somewhere, because there's going to be something bad that needs killing. He can't stay. He's wired and tired, all at once.

"Sleep," Sam says, and Dean turns his head against the pillow, knows he will.

"Hey," he says, and Sam makes a quiet noise. "If you put this on your journal, maybe bloodofreptile will finally shut up about you getting laid all the time."

"His name is Dennis," Sam says, and Dean laughs, weirdly glad. Dennis. Yeah, that fits. "And this isn't going on the internet."

"Probably a good idea," Dean says, and Sam says, again, "Dude, go to sleep," and Dean tips back into Sam's warmth, and does, and it's the best sleep he's gotten in a year.