#A plant literally BURROWS into your brain & fucks it up

[mushie-lol]

first post here lmao uh Luigi and Dimentio

(TW blood!! Not super realistic or anything)

(also TW brainwashing/mind control?)

also Luigi & Mr. L designs!! Wow.

[wroteclassicaly]

A/N: There’s no point to this. I’m just feeling angsty and it came to mind…

Your fingers are cold, skin beginning to prickle with the burn of frost. You watch the digits grip the metal gate until your knuckles crack under pressure. You can’t see any of their stables, not with your blurred sclera. Your throat is confined to suffocation, body suffering trembles that aren’t a result of this brutal Midwestern winter. There’s a guilt burrowed deep within your chest cavity, twisting, knocking at your bones with an iron fist that demolishes your bones — dusts them to ash.

Would explain why you’re about to collapse.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay…” You’re using your spare hand to angrily wipe at your wind-kissed cheek, nose slick with snot.

But it’s not alright. You’re not alright.

Any normal human being could appreciate the happiness, the change in him that comes from finding what most of the world searches for. But you, the person who actually cared for him, watched out for, held all his secrets despite dangers to your own life — you’re the single soul that can’t find any joy in what he’d laid on you merely moments ago… You never anticipated seeing the day where your best-friend would give up his disconnected ways and find someone to share things with that isn’t you, that’s more than a quick fuck and forget. Sure he had girls, he had them a lot — various ones, never you. And that was okay, as long as it wasn’t serious.

Until he told you in his bedroom when you were dressing the healing dissolvables below his lower lids.

“Thinkin’ I might’ve found somethin’ good for my future with this one. Who would’ve thought, right? Especially after all this?�� He didn’t mean for his fingers to graze your wrist when he motioned to his healing, slightly marred skin. It wasn’t unusual, but it stung this time, literally winding you.

In record time, you applied the cooling antiseptic and went to retrieve your purse. He’d frowned at this, looking at you with a tilted head full of messy, freshly grown out tresses. “I thought we were watching that stupid ass lifetime movie you wanted? Ya know… now that I can actually see it.” He’d winked your way, something your knees would’ve started shaking upon receiving. You were completely dead weighted in your legs and feather light in your guts.

In hindsight, it was a pathetic answer, but it left your lips before you could prevent it. “No thanks.”

You didn’t let him respond, just pulled on your coat, said you had to go, and made it halfway down the drive of Nadine’s new property, before you booked it to the stables and fell against the gate. And the fucking guilt is devouring you piece by piece.

How do you make peace with a future with someone that will never be what your soul has been primed for it to be? He’ll be in your life, sure, but you’ll have to be a dutiful friend and stuff everything down, knowing that you can’t involve yourself with another person, because they won’t be him. Your brain is a goddamned hamster wheel and you can’t get off, dizzy and nauseous. Your coat weighs too much, your clothing itches. Everything that you found right in this world is now wrong. A piling of packed snow crunches beneath leather combats.

Gator go away, go away, Gator.

You don’t look in his direction, his cedarwood cologne brimming your nostrils, the sound of his lips as they wrap around that dumb ass vape, causing a stirring hiss from the hit, and then he’s pocketing it, approaching you like every doe he used to (regretfully) hunt during season. On relaxed elbows, he plants his arms beside yours, his leather jacket flexing over defined muscles. You still pretend to be lost to the view, but by now, he knows you’re bullshitting him. A deep sigh escapes his mouth and he’s nudging you.

“You looked at me when my eyeballs looked like melted butter, so you’re not gonna give me common courtesy now? What’s wrong with you?” He tries to make light, but you know he’s worried about your rejection — his one solid person, his safe space. Or you were before her.

“I said I had to go.” You’re shocked that it comes out without the wavering that threatens to cave in on your throat muscles.

Gator is displeased by this answer. “Talk to me, please. You always talk to me. We tell each other everything, don’t we? I trust you, you trust me. Sort of our dynamic, ya know?”

“Not about this.” A quick glance to the left and you’re pretending to wipe your nose, but Gator knows better. You’ve been crying.

He tries to approach you carefully, in a way that regards your feelings before his own. You beat him to the invisible punch line, the smell of your shampoo and body wash invading his upped senses as you raise to press a chaste kiss with chapped lips to his pink dusted cheek. You don’t say anything more, simply leaving him behind like so many before…

He’ll be okay though. She’ll be around for their date tonight.

And you? You’ll be in the dark of your room, nursing a glass bottle that’s half full of amber liquid, staring at the bus ticket in your palm…

It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay…

// Eat me paragraph //

[waltwhitmansbeard]

13 "I want you. All of you" with vaxleth :3

13. "I want you. All of you." this is not at all in the spirit of the prompt but oh well, this is what we got. this is grow with the flow!

"Am I annoying?"

Vax blinks, his brain struggling to make the switch away from the podcast episode he's editing. "What?"

Keyleth leans back against the kitchen counter, fingers fidgeting with a vine of the pothos she's repotting. She's not looking at him. "I was just...never mind." She turns back to her potting tools.

"Hey, wait, no." Vax shoves himself out of his chair and crosses over to her. He reaches around to still her hand, which is haphazardly troweling soil around the roots of the pothos. "Talk to me."

She sighs and drops the trowel. "Sometimes...sometimes I don't get why we're together."

Vax's heart stops beating in his chest. This conversation has the potential to go horrifically wrong; if she's about to break up with him, Vax is sure he won't survive it. He takes her hand in his and gently spins her to face him. Her cheeks are already red with embarrassment. "Do you...not want to be? Together?"

Keyleth's eyes finally snap to his. "No! I mean yes! Yes, I do!"

The feeling is slowly starting to creep back into his extremities. "Okay, some intense emotional whiplash happening here, Kiki."

"Ugh, this is what I mean!" She slips out from between him and the counter and begins pacing toward the bed. "I'm not good at this, the talking and the knowing what to say and the..." Her hands gesticulate wildly. "...being a person."

Vax feels like he's going crazy. "Babe...you literally have a podcast."

"That's different," she says dismissively, spinning around to pace back. "I can talk about plants, or baking, or, or Simon, but..." She stops in front of him, eyes wide, searching. "Do you ever feel like you're not a real person?"

She's looking at him with a desperation that he can feel but not understand. The fact of the matter is that he has no idea what she's talking about. Vax has always felt incredible real, incredibly human, incredibly alive. Every dumbfuck decision he's ever made has been in wild pursuit of some feeling, of lust or adrenaline or curiosity or boredom—he has always sought out the richest, fullest life. When Vax steps out onto the city street, he feels connected, like he's one fish in a school too big to comprehend, but hey, at least he can see the people he's swimming alongside.

He knows that Keyleth struggles with that sometimes, the connection, the understanding. But he never knew that she doesn't feel real. He takes her hand and pulls her toward their little loveseat. "I don't feel like that, no." They sit, and Vax pulls her head under his chin. "But can you tell me what it feels like?"

Keyleth sniffles and burrows against his chest. "It feels like...I don't know. Like everyone I know is a complete, complex person with dreams and plans and feelings, and I'm like...a houseplant they water sometimes. I absorb the light, and I grow a little, but I'm still potted where I am."

"Okay. So...you feel like your friends are moving on without you? Leaving you behind?"

"No, I..." She presses her fingers into her eyes. "I'm not making sense."

She's not, but Vax doesn't want to say that. So instead he says, "I may not get it, but I think I do get you. Maybe not perfectly, or completely, but I know the person you are—kind, compassionate, funny, diligent, cranky when it's past your bedtime—and I love you. And I want you. All of you. Even the parts of you that you don't think are real. Because I know they're real. I'm holding them right now."

"I believe you," she whispers. "I just don't know how to make it feel real."

Vax hums and begins to play with the fingers of one of her hands. "You know, sometimes, when I haven't really been looking after myself and it's late and I'm not feeling so hot, I look at you and I think, 'Hey, you need to get the fuck away from her before you ruin her life like you've ruined everything else you've ever loved.' And it really, really sucks, because I don't want to get away from you. I love you."

"I don't want you to get away from me, either," she murmurs, squeezes his fingers.

"And I know that. I know that that's true, and you mean it, and it's real. But it doesn't feel real, not in the moment. So I tell myself it's real anyway, and it's a lie, because I don't believe it, but I've found that if I just tell the lie to myself enough times, there's a good chance I start to believe it."

They sit in silence for a while, listening to each other's breathing and the hum of the dishwasher and Simon rumbling purrs in the window. Vax would gnaw off his own arm to know what Keyleth's thinking, but he knows he's got to give her the time she needs to untangle the roots of her thoughts. Eventually she says, "I don't know...if it works like that. If I can lie to myself the way you can. But I do know that I feel...more real with you. Like I'm not an actor on a stage, but a person living a life. It feels good."

He kisses the top of her head. "Good. I'm glad. Because I, for one, am a big fan of the life we've got going, and I really want you to like it, too."

"I do." She looks up, smiling unsurely. "I like you."

"Thank the gods, otherwise this would be super awkward." And he kisses her, and he hopes she can feel in his lips all the things he is too fumbling and too unsure to say.

[mellowswriting]

I saw that requests are open! would it be possible for you to write a follow up to Second Chances with javi and reader? Maybe you have another kid and this time javi is able to be there for you throughout the whole pregnancy, and get to experience the first kick, you giving birth, etc (I am a sucker for domestic!javi if you can't tell haha) I think it would be really cute!!

From the Beginning

pairing || Javier Peña x afab!Reader

summary || Javier gets to experience the chaotic excitement of welcoming a new baby to the family.

word count || 6,466 

warnings || kid fic, pregnant reader, non-graphic childbirth, some spiciness but no smut, dad!Javi being adorable 

a/n || I can’t even express how much I love writing about the boys as dads, especially Javier! I really hope you all enjoy this, it was so very much fun to write.

Main Masterlist  |   Join the taglist!

Early spring mornings always had a special quality about them. The air was never too hot, pleasantly warm with a hint of a cool breeze that still lingered from winter’s sharp grip. Plants were beginning to bloom, the trees regaining their bright green foliage that ruffled in a symphony with every pass of the wind. Spring was the bringer of warmth after the ice and snow, the nurturer that coaxed seeds to sprout and flourish, the guide for new life and hope.

Ironic, then, that those very qualities you had grown to love were the ones causing you so much inner turmoil that you couldn’t even enjoy the gorgeous morning happening around you. You hadn’t even realized what was happening at first. Mother nature hadn’t exactly gifted you with a cycle that could be easily followed and predicted. Instead you had the supreme pleasure of having to carry around menstrual products everywhere you went and having to replace your underwear far more often than usual. So when you went two months without the waves of cramps and frustration of your period, it wasn’t all that remarkable.

It was when you were doing some last minute grocery shopping the night before that you realized something was off. Well, more off than usual. The sight of the shelves of tampons made your stomach bottom out with realization. You must’ve made quite a sight as you stood in that aisle with a cart half full of food, just staring at tampons with dread. Two boxes of pregnancy tests got tossed in with the various other items in your cart and you hoped that Javier was too tired from work to insist he help you put away the groceries.

For once, the universe appeared to be on your side. Your husband was sitting on the floor with Elianna, a spread of coloring books and crayons scattered on the living room carpet, and he actually listened to you when you waved him off to carry the bags in yourself. The tests were tucked away in the bathroom behind your tampons - ironic, yes, but it was the one place Javier really wouldn’t be poking around.

Honestly, a part of you felt bad for not telling Javier right away. He had more than proven himself as a great father and husband in the nearly two years since he returned to your life. Those irrational little fears of him leaving you and little Ellie had been crushed into nothing in the wake of the role he readily took on with his daughter, but this was different. Maybe it was pretty naive of you to not have that conversation with him, but it was something you thought you still had time for.

The plus sign on the pregnancy tests told you the time for that conversation was now, apparently. You were grateful for the timing of your little realization. Saturday mornings saw the standing trend of your sister whisking Ellie away for some ‘auntie and niece time’, and you really didn’t want her to feel the tension you were carrying. She was such a perceptive little girl that had an eye for everything.

Javier was still asleep. You usually slept in with him on the weekends, but you were restless to find out if your period was just pulling a fast one on you or if you actually were pregnant. Now you had four positive tests sitting in front of you and a sleeping husband who you couldn’t decide whether or not to wake up. Luckily, you ended up not having to make that choice since two sharp raps of his knuckles against the bathroom door snapped you out of your trance.

The door opened a millisecond after you snatched up the tests and hid them behind your back, not so unlike Ellie when she was hiding a treat she wasn’t supposed to have yet. The difference was that you didn’t know if this would be a treat to Javier. He was still half asleep, his thin pajama pants slug low on his hips and his eyes squinted against the bathroom light.

“G’morning,” He grunted as he moved to shuffle past you. “Move over, I gotta piss.”

You were rooted to the spot, though, your brain floundering to gain control of your muscles. “Uhm…”

“What’s wrong?” Javier slowly perked up through his sleepy haze at the realization that you looked downright terrified. He put his hand on your bicep and squeezed slightly. “Is Ellie okay?”

“What? No, yeah, Ellie’s fine. She’s with Amelia.” You spluttered, cringing at your inability to function.

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Javi pressed. There really wasn’t any hiding things from him. Ellie must get that sharp eye of hers from her father. “What are you holding behind your back?”

You tried to swallow down the thickness that enveloped your throat to form some sort of words, literally anything to convey to him what the hell was going on, but your body was seized with fear. So you held out the tests wordlessly. His eyebrows furrowed as he took the bundle of tests from your hand, staring at them with a split second’s confusion before it dawned on him. “This…? You…?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. The worry in your voice must’ve been obvious because Javier was on you in a second flat, his arms crowding you into his chest with a crushing strength.

“You’re pregnant?” Javier croaked into your neck and the dam of emotion in your chest crumbled. His voice was full of excited disbelief, and relief crashed over you.

“Yeah, I am.” You said with a tearful chuckle, winding your arms around him to burrow yourself even further into his chest. “I know we never really talked about having another kid but… is this something you want, Javi?”

“Fuck, this is ironic.” Javier laughed quietly and when you looked up at him, he avoided your eyes with an almost bashful look. “I was gonna ask you today if you ever thought about it. Do you have any idea how many times I went over it in my head?”

You couldn’t help it - you cracked up laughing. The whole thing was almost ridiculous - the both of you worrying despite wanting the exact same thing. Tears of relief and laughter soaked into his t-shirt as you both broke into chaotic laughter, fingers clutching at each other’s shirts as you tried to catch your breath.

“So, uh… are we doing this?” Javier sounded nervous, his hands rubbing up and down your back as if to reassure himself. “You really wanna have a baby with me? Again?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was choked with a tense mix of emotions, so you cleared your throat and tried again. “Yeah, I do.”

“I can’t… fuck, I can’t believe you - you’d… thank you.” He babbled, nearly unintelligible in his scramble to convey how fucking grateful he was, but you knew. It wasn’t the first time you had heard the desperate need to spit words he couldn’t really find, the words that matched the swell of emotions in his chest that still wasn’t used to voicing. “Fuck, Ellie’s gonna be such a good big sister.”

That choked you up more than you expected. She really would be, you knew that for a fact, but it was a dream you had boxed up and shoved on a shelf with all your other unrealistic dreams for your future. Never in your life did you let yourself really think you could have the whole package deal - the loving (albeit gruff) husband, the big house, the sound of little feet chasing each other through the halls…

“Wait, how long have you been…? Or do we have to see a doctor first? Oh shit, we have to find a doctor for you, what the fuck are they called..? A fucking... obstetrician!” Javi rambled in a mix of nerves and excitement, breaking from your embrace to pace the length of the bathroom. “How are you feeling? Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help, because -”

“Javi, breathe!” You calmed him with both hands out to stop his walking and braced your hands on his shoulders to rub at him firmly. “We have plenty of time, okay? Let me go make some coffee for you and we can sit down and make a plan. First, didn’t you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Oh… yeah.”

----------

Javier couldn’t stop bouncing his knee. It was a subconscious thing, something he stopped the moment he realized but soon found it moving of its own volition all over again. He really was trying not to let his nerves show even though he knew that you could tell. It was all so new to him, which wouldn’t be a problem if the reminder didn’t gut him every goddamn time. He couldn’t imagine how alone you must have felt the first time around when you were pregnant with Elianna, especially in these cold, sterile doctors offices.

His grip tightened on your hand. The feeling of your fingertips pressed against the top of his hand kept him grounded, helped him remind himself that there was no going back and changing everything else that happened. All he could do was be there this time around, be the best version of himself that he could be for you and his kid - well, kids now. Plural. The excitement was almost enough to drown away the guilt. Javi really could barely believe that he was getting the privilege of experiencing this with you.

“I’ve seen files on drug lords shorter than all that.” Javier nodded at the pile of forms and paperwork you held in your lap and you laughed brightly. He preened a little at the sound. It was something he could never get enough of, that laugh of yours. “I love you.”

You looked up at him, the pen in your hand stopping its constant scratching for the first time in forever, and gave him a lopsided smile. “I love you, too.”

There was no way he wasn’t going to kiss you after that adorable little display. Your cheek felt soft against his palm and the little sigh of relief you huffed against him was addictive. Just knowing that he was an anchor for you made Javier feel so incredibly loved and important and all he wanted to do was imbue you with that same sense of security. He held you close, his hand slipping back to the back of your neck to keep you right where he wanted you, and gave you those soft little kisses that never failed to make you melt.

“Mrs. Peña?” A nurse called out and he had no choice but to let you go with one last peck against your lips. He followed you and the nurse into the exam room, nerves and excitement soaring even higher in his chest.

It was kind of fascinating, watching you answer the nurse’s barrage of questions. Questions about your medical history, how many pregnancies you’ve had, all about your menstrual cycle. The two of you went back and forth for at least fifteen minutes, tossing questions and answers back and forth like a tennis match. The nurse left with the promise of the doctor being in momentarily for an ultrasound.

“Come hold my hand?” You asked, and how could he deny such a sweet request?

“Of course,” He pulled a chair from across the room and settled himself next to the exam table, both of his hands wrapping around one of yours as he brought it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “So what happens now?”

“The doctor will give me an ultrasound. She’ll probably want to run some blood tests, too.” You sighed, obviously uncomfortable at the thought of needles.

“I’ll hold your hand then, too.” Javier promised.

“It’ll be good practice for you, ‘cause once I’m in labor I’ll probably break your hand.” You teased and yeah, broken fingers didn’t sound all that great but fuck, he was more than ready to let you do just that. Javier wanted to be your rock, wanted to support you through it all - especially since he couldn’t the first time.

Two quick knocks sounded against the door made Javier straighten up hastily. The doctor came in with a smile and a large machine wheeling in behind her. “Good morning, mom and dad! How’re we feeling?”

“All good here, Dr. Hall. A little nauseous, but still… good.” You gave Javier’s hand a little squeeze before letting go to unbutton your jeans and fold the waistband down, followed by pulling the hem of your shirt up. It was hard to believe that the beginning of an entire new life was right there between your hips.

“Good to hear!” Dr. Hall fiddled with the ultrasound machine for a moment before turning to you. “So today we’re going to take a look and find out how far along you are, make sure mom and baby both look healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” You and Javier said in unison, and he took your hand again, needing to feel you there with him.

The gel must’ve been cold based on the way you hissed slightly. Javier watched the screen as Dr. Hall trailed the wand over your belly, lips parting at the sight of the black and white image. It was hard to make out what exactly he was seeing at first, but the image shifted slightly and he could make out the tiniest, vague shape of the newest edition to his little family.

“It looks like you’re about ten weeks along.” Dr. Hall murmured without taking her eyes off of the screen. “Baby is about the size of a plum.”

Javier squeezed your hand lightly, the both of you sparing a glance at each other before staring back at the screen in wonder. The doctor pointed out the baby’s head and a little foot as she took her measurements, reassuring you both that everything looked perfect. He gave a rushed “yes, absolutely” when she asked if he wanted the ultrasound photos - there was a spot in his wallet that he had in mind for it already.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been in situations that left him shocked before. This was Javier Peña, after all. Life and career experiences had given him plenty of moments where his mind was completely washed blank with surprise, but never had it been such a good thing. There were so many times that the shock was accompanied by grief or anger, but excitement? Gratefulness? That was new to him, left him reeling the entire drive home, all throughout dinner. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him that he couldn’t be like this when Ellie got home the next day. She was smarter than he could’ve imagined any kid being at three years old and even though he agreed with your assertion that no one should know about your pregnancy for a few more weeks at least, Javier was certain his daughter would be able to needle it out of him.

Those expert interrogation skills must be hereditary.

It wasn’t until he was getting ready for bed that it really hit him how real it was, that you really were sitting in the bed you shared with him, pregnant with his baby and making plans for the usual Sunday brunch and park visit you all did every week. As he set his wallet on the nightstand, he couldn’t help but pull out the little ultrasound picture. He had a feeling he would be doing that a lot, especially when the new cadets were driving him crazy at work. It all swelled up in his chest, the appreciation and excitement and disbelief, because holy shit, how did he get so lucky? One finger traced the little image in his hand, and he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Thank you.”

The confused look you gave him made him flounder for the words.

“I just… I know everything was fucked up the first time around but I swear, it’s going to be different this time. I am not going anywhere.” Javier slid closer at the sight of the tears in your eyes, easily welcoming your arms around his neck as you practically drug yourself into his lap. He held you close to his chest, trying to instill the certainty and promise of it all. “God, fuck, and I thought I couldn’t get enough of you before…”

“Javi…” You croaked, laughing wetly into his neck.

“I’m serious! You’re gonna have to tell me to fuck off when you want space because I can’t keep my hands off you.” Javi teased, relief washing over him at your seeming acceptance of his promises. “And now like this, growing my baby… fuck, I am in this with you. Me and you and Ellie… and our little plum.”

That night, Javier fell asleep with his head on your shoulder, his face buried in your neck, and his hand tucked into the waistband of your sweatpants to cradle that precious space that held his newest child.

----------

Ellie couldn’t stop touting her new title to anyone who would listen.

“I’m a big sister!” She told the cashier at the grocery store, the other kids at the park and their moms for good measure, and even the mailman when they came by each morning. The brightness in her eyes when she said it made your heart flip in your chest. You had expected some sort of confusion or even for her to be upset at the idea of a new sibling, but she launched right into a story about how her friend from playgroup has a baby sister, and you knew that she would be just fine.

With your sixteenth week rapidly approaching, you couldn’t be more grateful that Ellie was excited for the new addition to the family. It was one less thing for you to worry about amidst the chaos of bringing a new person into the world. The fatigue was something you definitely didn’t miss about pregnancy - it washed over you without warning, left you nodding off wherever you sat. Thank god Javier was such a hands on father. He had no problem herding Ellie off into the backyard or off for a walk to let you get some much needed rest.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a hands on husband, though. Sure, you knew he was excited and you knew he already loved everything about your body, but he really wasn’t lying when he said pregnancy made him want you even more. Every night, Javi’s hands gravitated to your body to ease the kinks out of your muscles, to rub your feet until the aches went away, to cheekily offer you an orgasm if you were up for one. It made you feel cherished, something you sorely missed the first time you were pregnant.

“Thank you, Javi,” You groaned lowly as those strong hands of his worked at your lower back. He easily hitched your thigh up slightly to ease some of the pressure on the new swell to your belly. There was a slur in your voice when you said, “Feels so good.”

Javier chuckled behind you, moving on to rub your feet. “Be quiet, you don’t want to wake Ellie.”

“Did you ever see this being our life?” You murmured though your voice was muffled by the pillows you buried your head in. “Telling each other not to wake the kids, making bacon smiley faces for a toddler’s breakfast?”

“I didn’t think I’d actually get it, but I wished for it. Dreamt about how pretty you’d look all full of me.” Javi placed a teasing kiss to the inside of your thigh. “The real thing is so much better.”

You could only groan under his praise. His thumbs dug into the arch of your foot and rubbed in methodical circles, drawing another pleased groan from you that you muffled in your pillow. The pain slowly melted from your tired muscles under his thorough ministrations, leaving a pleasant warmth in his wake that made you all pliant and drowsy beneath him.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Javi asked as he rubbed his hands up your calves and you smiled. You knew exactly what he was gunning for.

You eased yourself onto your back and reached out for him with both arms, bringing him forward with grabby hands that he could never refuse. Javier settled between your thighs, a knowing smirk on his face, and leaned down to kiss you deeply. “‘M feeling good, Javi.”

“You know I love making my girl feel good,” Javi murmured as he kissed down your neck, one hand trailing back and forth over your hip and thigh lovingly. “Can I make you feel even better?”

“Please?” You asked breathily and your husband was more than happy to oblige. The loose tank top you wore was the first to go, followed quickly by your shorts and underwear.

Javier set about lavishing your neck and chest with affection, his touch more gentle than usual on your oversensitive breasts, and once again you were struck by the surrealness of it all. The fact that this had begun in Colombia all those years ago as two coworkers using sex for stress relief and had blossomed into this beautiful life you shared together was a thing of dreams. But there you were, with Javier Peña making love to you, quietly as to not wake your daughter and gently as to keep you and your baby safe and happy, and you could barely believe it.

“I love you,” You choked out through the tears that sprung into your eyes and Javi sat up to look at you with a concerned expression.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes roaming all over to find the apparent source of your tears.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You tried to pull him back down to you but he didn’t budge, the concern unwavering.

“Then why are you crying?” Javier brushed a thumb under your eyes to wipe away the evidence of your strong burst of emotion.

“Because I love you,” You chuckled as you held his hand close to your cheek and pressed a kiss to the middle of his palm. “And I’m pregnant, so everything is a thousand times more intense and you don’t get to tease me for that.”

“I would never,” Javi muttered but the mischievous grin on his face betrayed him. “Let me make you feel better, baby,”

“I’m already better, Javi - oh,”

----------

Two o’clock in the morning was not an ideal time to wake up, especially since Javier knew that Ellie would be awake and full of energy by seven, but something felt off. Even in his unconscious state, he could feel the absence of you in bed and his mind nagged at him to get up and find you. The hardwood was cold beneath his feet as he wandered from the bedroom, finding the bathroom empty before he made his way down the stairs. You often would rest on the recliner in the living room when your back was bothering you particularly bad, especially since your center of gravity had so drastically changed the further along you got in your pregnancy - but you weren’t there either.

Before Javi could start really worrying, he heard the refrigerator open and found you peering into the illuminated fridge in search of… something. A pint of ice cream was already in your hand, a spoonful of it hanging from your lips as you browsed with a frustrated look on your face, and honestly… Javi loved how you looked. It was so domestic and sweet, the sight of you in your pajamas that barely covered your belly as you raided the kitchen.

Thirty-six weeks and four days. He could barely believe how much time had passed since he saw those positive tests. It felt like forever and the blink of an eye at the same time, and he was beyond excited to meet his newest little one.

“What are you looking for, sweetheart?” Javi asked after a moment of watching you helplessly search around.

The sheepish smile you gave him made his heart swell in his chest and he automatically opened his arms as you shuffled over to bury your face in his chest. “Your kid is driving me crazy with the cravings.”

Javier hugged you tightly, relishing in the way you relaxed against him. “Well, if they’re anything like me, they probably want those barbecue chips, then.”

It didn’t take long for him to get you herded back up to bed with the chips in hand and the sight of you sleepily munching away while burrowed in the blankets eased an almost innate need Javier had to see you safe and happy, all nice and taken care of in his bed. He climbed into bed once he was sure you didn’t need anything else, settling on his side with his head propped up against his hand to watch you despite his own sleepiness.

“Let your mama sleep, troublemaker.” He murmured to your belly as he rubbed gentle circles over the spots he could feel the nudges of his little one retaliating to their father’s stern words. “Need some lotion?”

“Hmmm, please?” You hummed.

Rubbing lotion into your skin was something Javi had taken a particular liking to. The first time he had seen you doing it yourself, he was quick to take over. That was the first time he felt his little one kick at his hands and he fell even more in love - something he hadn’t thought was possible. It was a good way to feel closer to you both, to his wife and the baby you were bringing into the world, and the way you dozed slightly as he helped you relax made him feel needed, like he was doing right by you. That’s all he ever wanted to do.

A nudge to the edge of his hand made Javier glance back down to where his hands were running all over your belly, but it was the sight of the baby rolling that made him do a double take. “Holy shit,” He whispered, hands frozen as he saw what had to be the imprint of a little foot or hand poke out before disappearing. “There really is a whole person in there.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” You grumbled, grimacing slightly at the feeling. “It’s aerobics hour, apparently.”

“That’s fucking crazy.” Javi tentatively resumed massaging the lotion into your skin. It was hard to fathom, the idea that your body was so capable of creating and nurturing a brand new life, and for the millionth time he found himself thanking the universe for letting him have this second chance.

----------

Gabriel Peña came early, quick, and with a sharp cry you were sure could be heard throughout the entire hospital. His little nose was scrunched up, his face all red from his wailing, hands curled into angry fists over his sudden eviction from the warmth and darkness he was accustomed to. It was a short labor, so very different from your first with Ellie for so many reasons but the biggest being the strong presence of Javier at your side. The moment the contractions began at the crisp hour of six a.m., he was alert and full of nervous excitement.

True to his word, Javier let you clutch onto him through it all - every contraction, every push, every angered grumble you threw his way for getting you pregnant in the first place. That sharp mind of his kept up under the pressure. He spoonfed you ice chips and let you use him for support as you rocked your way through particularly bad contractions.

There were tears in Javier’s eyes as he carefully set his hand on his son’s head, carefully musing the shock of dark, wispy hair on his head. You leaned your head against Javi’s shoulder, exhaustion, relief, and happiness warring with each other after hours of labor. You felt his lips press against your temple before he sniffled and whispered, “Thank you.”

Javier stayed by Gabriel’s side the entire time the doctors checked him over and cleaned him up, per your instructions, and he was the one to return your son to your arms. It was the most careful you had ever seen him, his movements slow and deliberate, eyes on the baby’s adorable, chubby face.

“Seven pounds, nine ounces,” Javi murmured as he drug a chair as close to your bedside as possible and settled in, his hand resting on your thigh. A disgruntled whine came from the baby wriggling in your arms and you smiled, knowing he was hungry and could probably smell the milk your body had been preparing to make for his arrival. You pulled the gown down to expose your breast, propping your arm with a pillow to better support him, and adjusted his latch to settle in.

“Nice latch, mama,” One of the nurses said as she finished settling the blankets around your feet.

“Not my first time at this rodeo.” You chuckled quietly. It had been a while since Ellie weaned but you still remembered the struggle of figuring out how to get a newborn to latch properly when you had no idea what you were doing. You set your hand over Javi’s, smiling at him when he blinked sleepily up at you. Neither of you had gotten much rest before Gabriel decided to make his appearance into the world. “Can you hand me some water, honey?”

“Of course,” Javi perked up with the small task you gave him. There wasn’t much he could do at this point, but you wanted him to feel involved, to feel like he was helping you, and even though his mere presence helped you relax, you knew he was an ‘action’ kind of man. He needed something to do to feel useful. He held the straw steady for you and everything, your sweet husband. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired.” You answered honestly, leaning into his hand when he brushed stray hairs from your face.

“I know this wasn’t easy. I’m proud of you.” It was a simple statement but it hit you right in your chest. As excited as you were to have another baby, it was hard. Exhausting. He could see it all, how tired you were and how hard you were working just to carry on like normal through your pregnancy, and while he did everything he could to ease some of that burden, the plain acknowledgement of how hard you worked felt good.

“I love you so much.” You whispered, pulling his hand close to kiss his palm.

“I love you, too.” Javier leaned over the side of the bed and kissed you softly, careful not to jostle his son where he sleepily nursed against you. “How are our kids so damn cute?”

You huffed a laugh, which made Gabriel shift against you before settling back down, sighing suspiciously similar to his father. “It helps that their dad is incredibly good looking.”

“True,” Javi said, trying for that cocky tone you loved but you didn’t miss the pink tinge to the tips of his ears. Compliments always got him like that, all red-faced and adorable - though he would never admit it.

A short nap later and you had one very excited Ellie fidgeting in the chair next to your bed, impatiently waiting to meet her baby brother. Javier stood behind her, quietly reminding her to be careful as you helped keep the squirming newborn steady in her lap. Your heart damn near exploded when she began cooing at her brother and very gently touching his soft cheeks. She was enamored by him, asking so many questions that you and her father could barely keep up.

“Can we share my bed?” “No, he can’t sleep in your bed, baby. He has to sleep in a special bed in mommy and daddy’s room.”

“Does he get a special seat like me?” “Yep! Daddy’s putting his carseat in next to yours right now. You’ll get to talk to him the whole way home.”

“Is he gonna cry a lot?” “Yeah, he will. That’s how babies let people know they need something since they don’t have words like we do.”

“Can I share my crackers with him?” “Not yet! Right now, he only drinks milk.” “Milk? Like for cereal?” “Kind of, but it comes from your mommy.” “What?!” “You ate the same thing when you were a little baby, too.” “What?!”

The entire drive home was full of little Ellie chatting away at her baby brother, mostly about the stuffed animals she had at home that she promised to show him the moment they got home. There was a small smile on Javier’s face as he drove, his hand curled around yours on the center console. He practically radiated contentment and damn did it look good on him.

----------

For what felt like the millionth time, you woke before the sun had a chance to rise. Though this time, it was to the feeling of a full bladder rather than the sound of a hungry baby, so that could be counted as a small win at the very least. You tried to ignore the ache in your healing body as you stumbled your way to and from the bathroom, near silent in your movements even though you were half asleep. It was a well practiced dance, getting out and back into bed without waking your sleeping children.

But something was off. The sheets were cooler than usual, missing the fire-like heat that Javier radiated constantly. You sat up, blinking against the drowsiness and darkness to see your husband passed out on the rocking chair in the corner of the room with Gabriel curled up on his bare chest. Skin-to-skin contact was something Javier couldn’t get enough of. He told you how close it made him feel to his son and you couldn’t complain. It was a precious sight. Avoiding the creaky floorboards, you carefully covered Gabriel with a soft baby blanket and smoothed it down his back.

“S’wrong?” Javier mumbled, words slurred with sleep, his eyes barely cracking open. On instinct, his hands shifted over the little baby asleep on him to hold him closer, even more secure.

“Shh, nothing’s wrong.” You soothed as you gently tucked his curls back away from his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

“M’kay.” And with that his eyes were closed, back to dozing like he was never interrupted in the first place. You were glad. Tomorrow was an early morning, and paired with all of the midnight feedings and diaper changes, you all could use some rest. So you laid back down, sleep dragging you back under swiftly.

Javier was practically bouncing with nerves just hours later, even though he was trying not to show it. It brought you back to that first appointment when you were pregnant, only this time he held a sleeping one-month old who he was trying not to wake up with his nervousness.

“I just want it to go well.” He grumbled when you asked if he was okay.

“It will.” You reassured him, rubbing circles into his knee. “They’re both perfectly healthy, the pediatrician will tell you that, too.”

You were right - then again, when weren’t you? Gabe was a healthy nine and a half pounds, strong heart and lungs, and good reflexes. Javier was hooked on the pediatrician’s every word, nodding along and giving you a relieved smile with each positive statement. And of course, Ellie’s rambunctiousness had the pediatrician and nurses completely captivated as she told them all about her preschool and the antics she got up to while they checked her over.

The pride on Javier’s face with every positive comment and reassurance that both of his kids were on track developmentally made your heart flip. You felt so beyond lucky to have this little family of yours, with two beautiful children and the man you always loved. It felt too good to be true sometimes, especially when Javi pulled you close for a tight hug and a kiss to the side of your head before he worked to get one wiggly Gabe back into his onesie.

One impromptu trip to the park later and you and Javier had two very tired kids on your hands. Ellie was already passed out by the time Javier pulled into the driveway but Gabe was quickly venturing into ‘overtired’ territory. He was grumpy, wriggling around in your arms like he couldn’t get comfortable, all the while giving little whines and grunts that threatened to turn into full on wailing. He didn’t want milk, he didn’t need a diaper change, he just wanted to sleep but was too frustrated to let a nap take him.

“Give ‘em here.” Javier offered and you freely handed him over. The postpartum fatigue was no joke, and even though it was lessening with each passing day, you were damn tired so you had no issue with letting your husband put the baby down for a nap. You curled up on the couch, not quite going to sleep but still letting your mind and body rest as you listened to Javi try to negotiate with Gabriel as if he were some sicario and not just a particularly stubborn baby.

“C’mon, little man. Just go to sleep. All of your problems if you went to sleep right now? Solved. Completely solved. Instead of crying you could just… go to sleep.” Javier whispered over the cooing and grunting of his son. “Oh, don’t give me that face, mister.”

You snorted a laugh - you knew exactly what face Gabe was pulling. His nose and eyebrows would scrunch up, lips pursed as he huffed angry breaths like a little baby bull. It was an exaggerated copy of the face Javier pulled anytime he was frustrated, which you found ridiculously adorable. Slowly, the grumpy grunts became more and more quiet until they disappeared completely, and a few moments later, Javier flopped down on the couch next to you with a sigh.

“Got him down.” Javi said as he pressed close to you, burying himself between the back of the couch and your body to press his face into your neck. A blanket of drowsiness must have settled over the entire house as both kids napped peacefully in their beds and you cuddled up to your husband in the living room. The both of you would doze until the sound of little feet on the hardwood or the sounds of a hungry baby woke you, and then it would be back on the grind of parenthood, but you knew… with Javier by your side, you could do it.

{Taglist}

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[pixiegrl]

how ABOUT for the malum “I would’ve had breakfast ready, but you were sleeping on my arm, and I didn’t want to wake you.” :-) some soft morning cuteness love u

Mandie! Hilariously enough I wrote a Malum piece to this prompt back in August and this is a pseudo sequel to that. Please enjoy for @blackbutterfliescal and @devilatmydoor celebration for Michael’s bday! 

On ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27625850

Michael goes to roll over and finds that he can’t. Opening his eyes reveals that it’s because Calum is sleeping on his arm. Specifically, he’s curled up, snuggling into Michael’s side and snoring slightly in his sleep. Calum has one arm thrown over Michael’s chest, face pressed into Michael’s neck. It’s making Michael overly warm, pressed this close, but he doesn’t want to wake Calum up and disturb him. Michael knows it’s his turn to make breakfast, has a whole plan for what to do that involves pancakes and the fancy espresso that Calum likes but he can’t be bothered to move when Calum’s like this. He looks sleep soft and comfortable, burrowed into Michael’s neck, Duke curled up behind his knees, Moose and South draped over their feet. It’s rare to get mornings like this, living in their own bubble of domesticity. Mornings like this make Michael think about marriage, about being able to live like this forever. Logically, he knows that he and Calum are forever, that they’re going to get married at some point (especially since their conversation before Luke and Ashton’s wedding) but sometimes Michael gets nervous. He gets worried that eventually Calum will get bored of him, his late nights and video games and stupid brain that gets a little broken sometimes and tells him he’s not good enough. Calum’s his best friend though, knows Michael better than he knows himself, always knows how to pull Michael back from the edge. He’s never tired of Michael in all the years that he’s known him. Calum is Michael’s rock, his constant, even when Michael’s at his worst. Calum is sunshine and light and Michael adores him. 

Calum huffs, burrowing further into Michael’s chest. Michael snorts, reaching a hand up to play with Calum’s hair. Michael knows they need to get up, set to meet with Luke and Ashton, discuss band plans and tour breaks and the honeymoon they wanna take and trips back to see all their families. Michael knows they’re going to be running late if he doesn’t wake Calum up but he doesn’t have the heart to. Calum looks so peaceful like this, curled up with the dogs. It seems a shame to walk Calum up. 

Michael allows another few minutes of Calum curled up before he checks the time and realizes that they need to get up now or they’ll be really late. 

“Cal. Sweetie, you gotta get up,” Michael says, jostling Calum’s shoulder. Calum mumbles, stirring and opening his eyes. 

“Don’t wanna.” 

“We have to get up to meet the guys.” 

“Too comfortable.” 

“Well, my arm is asleep.” 

“Hmmm. What about breakfast?” Calum says sleepily, turning his head to look at Michael. 

“I would’ve had breakfast ready, but you were sleeping on my arm, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Sap. Now I have to get up and make breakfast.” 

“Hey! I help!” 

“No you don’t. You distract me,” Calum says, rolling his eyes and pushing himself up in bed. Duke grumbles his protest at the shift in position, moving away and whining. South perks up, realizing that Calum and Michael are awake, bumping against Michael’s hand until he starts to pet him. 

Calum rubs at his eyes, stretching and popping his back slightly before rolling out of bed. He turns to look at Michael. 

“I’m going to make pancakes. Maybe I’ll let you have some if you come help,” He winks, making his way out of the bedroom. Michale sighs, heaving himself out of bed and following after Calum, dogs close at his heels. 

They fall into their easy routine, a simple dance around the kitchen as they gather the supplies they need for their meal, finding their pancake mix and chocolate chips and coffee. Calum starts the espresso machine, grabbing the pan he uses to cook while Michael fills the dog dishes, making sure they have enough water while they’re eating.

Calum hums while he starts cooking, mixing the batter and spooning some out into the pan, watching it cook. Michael comes up behind Calum, looping his arms around his waist and resting his head on Calum’s shoulder while he cooks. 

“See? You are distracting,” Calum says, teasing in his tone. Michael giggles, pressing a kiss to Calum’s cheek just to have him swat halfheartedly at him. Michael laughs, trying to plant more kisses on Calum, dodging each of his attempts at smacking him. Eventually Michael retreats, lest the pancakes burn, and goes about managing the coffee, pouring it into their favorite mugs and getting the milk. Calum finishes up the cooking, grabbing the plates and taking them to the table, where Michael has set out the silverware and syrup. 

They settle into eating, quiet as they chew, dogs coming to sit at their heels to whine for little bits. Michael watches Calum, lit up by the glow of the early morning sun through the kitchen window. It bathes him in light, makes me look ethereal and suddenly Michael gets it when Ashton calls Luke golden and Apollo and the sun. Calum is Michael’s sun, the center of his universe. Even when Michael is unsure of himself, he’s always sure of Calum, steady, resilient Calum. It overwhelms Michael suddenly, the love and devotion he feels for Calum. 

“Marry me,” Michael says. Calum chokes on his next bite of pancake, coughing as he reaches for his coffee, chugs some of it, still coughing. 

“What?”

“Marry me, Cal. I love you. You’re my soulmate, you’re literal the other half of my soul. You know every part of me, the good, the bad, and all the mundane shit. You remember my favorite candy, where I leave my glasses, the last time I drank water. You know me in ways I don’t even think I know myself. I’ve known you were forever since the day we met and I don’t want to wait any longer. Let’s get married,” Michael says. Calum sits there, blinking at him. Dread feels Michael. Maybe he’s misread all of this.

“Fuck you Michael I wanted to do it first.”

“What?”

“Propose. I wanted to propose first. I even bought a ring and I had a whole plan. I was waiting for our anniversary. I had a whole thing planned with a song and photos and a whole thing. You can’t propose first what the fuck am I suppose to do now?” Calum says, brandishing his fork rather aggressively in Michael’s direction.

Michael registers what Calum’s said, face breaking out in a grin.

“Oh, so you will marry me?”

“Absolutely not. Where’s my ring for starters?” Calum says, grinning. Michael rolls his eyes.

“Well I don’t have one. This was spur of the moment.”

“Not real until you get a ring. Means I still have a chance to propose first,” Calum takes a bite of pancake, raising his eyebrows at Michael.

“No, this totally counts. I asked you to marry me.”

“Sorry, I actually have a ring, so I will be proposing first it seems.”

“Not if I go buy a ring today.”

“Well, now I’m not letting you out of my sight. And don’t even think of getting Luke or Ashton involved. You know Luke’s shit at keeping secrets and Ashton likes me the most,” Calum points out. He’s smiling widely enough that it looks like he has dimples, eyes crinkled at the corner in delight. 

“If you’re so keen on proposing first, why don’t you?” 

Calum balks, “I have a whole plan. For our anniversary.”  

“Since I’ve clearly messed it up, do it now. Our anniversary is in a month and I’ll be expecting it now. You can do your whole plan then and we can publicly announce it to everyone, but I want you to do it now. Just us,” Michael says. Calum pauses, chewing on his lip. He sighs heavily, pretending to be put out as he stands up. 

“Close your eyes.” 

“What?” 

“Close your eyes till I get back. At least give me something,” Calum says, rolling his eyes. Michael does the same thing, but compiles, closing his eyes. He listens to Calum’s footsteps as they leave the kitchen and again as they come back. They stop at the edge of the table and there’s a pause before Calum clears his throat. 

“You can open them now.” 

Michael does. Calum’s down on one knee, small velvet box open in his hand, putting the ring on display. It’s a gunmetal grey, black gemstone resting in the center, glittering. Calum looks a little teary, staring up at Michael and Michael can feel his own tears at the corner of his eyes. 

“Michael, you’re it for me. You’re the light of my day, the other half, my soulmate. You never fail to fill me with happiness, to brighten my day. I can’t dream of being anywhere else, loving anyone else, the way I love you and getting to share my life with you. I love you and I want to marry you. Even when you keep me up at night with your video games and your cold feet and your terrible sleeping habits. Michael Gordon Clifford, will you marry me?” Calum says, holding the ring up. Michael feels like he’s choking, tears at the back of his throat. All he can do is nod, letting Calum slide the ring home on his finger, pulling him up into a kiss. 

“I win,” Calum says against Michael’s lips. 

“Dork. Maybe I’ll get you a ring anyway, propose on our anniversary and steal the spotlight,” Michael laughs. Calum snorts. 

“Guess we’ll just have to be dorks together forever.” 

“Guess so,” Michael says, pulling Calum onto his lap and snuggling into him. He doesn’t care that he’s technically lost the engagement game. He can still propose on their anniversary, put it up publicly first. Michael looks down at his ring, smiling when it catches the light. As long as he can marry Calum, he’s happy. 

[is0gild]

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 29

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 8,417

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

"What the everliving fuck, Lea?! Why the hell are you naked in our kitchen?!"

Riku's muffled shout had me jerking awake and shooting up in bed, my hand clutching the blanket.

"Er, heh… laundry day?"

Lea's response.

Both voices had come from the other side of my closed bedroom door. I heard a ruckus out there ensue - possibly the sounds of a chase? Wincing at the sunlight pouring in through my window, I glanced towards the clock on my nightstand. Ugh, we'd only gotten to sleep a few short hours ago.

...speaking of…

I lifted my blanket slightly away from me as I looked down at myself.

Yup.

Not a stitch on me.

Not sure what else I could've possibly expected.

My door suddenly burst open and I gasped, hugging my comforter to my chest once more as Lea came barreling in. Okay, at least he wasn't completely naked. He had one of my bed sheets wrapped around his waist. Thankfully. I don't think that my heart could have survived such a visual otherwise at this precise moment.

He leapt into bed with me, sniggering as he hid behind me. Or rather, tried to anyway. My frame was far too small to be concealing such a large man. "Mornin', gorgeous!" he chirped, planting a swift peck to my cheek.

Face heating and groggy brain still trying to catch up, I began, "I- Wha-"

"Why, Lea?! Just… why?!" Riku yelled from the other side of the door, which seemed to have hit a wall and bounced back to almost closing again. It was now just barely open a crack for us to clearly hear my annoyed roommate's voice through it.

"Was trynta scrounge something up for breakfast!" Lea called back. "El was hungry!"

...I was?

My stomach growled.

Oh. Apparently, yes. Yes I was.

...oh gosh, it hadn't been gurgling in my sleep, had it? How embarrassing.

Riku's voice snarled, "You couldn't have put some goddamn pants on first?!"

"It was an emergency! Hadta get some food in the woman, stat!"

There was a loud angry huff from the other side of the door. "Whatever, you just better not have sat on anything out here or I swear…"

It hadn't escaped my notice that Riku hadn't followed Lea in here. Perhaps the implications of Lea barging in first in his current state of undress had not been lost on him and so he was staying out there to preserve my modesty.

Rayne on the other hand…

My door banged open for a second time to reveal her suddenly standing in the threshold, a huge ear-to-ear grin splitting her face in two. "Oh my god, it finally happened!"

Rayne had no such compunctions.

She squealed before running further into the room, holding something up in one hand. "Ahh, I'm so excited! So, so happy for you guys! Oh dear lord, you have no idea how frustrating it's been watching the two of you just dancing around each other this whole time but not bloody doing a damn thing about it! It was driving me up the goddamn wall!" Turns out that thing in her grasp was her phone, or so I came to realize when she shoved it in my face, "But finally! The day we've all been hoping for is here at last! The day you've become," pause for dramatic effect,"...a woman! Halle-freakin-lujah! Do you have any words you'd like to commemorate this momentous event with?"

"Why the phone?" was my oh so moving speech as I scrunched up my face and put my hand to the device, pushing it away.

She beamed and shrugged. "I'm recording this."

"You're what?!" I blanched.

"Yup! To immortalize this historic occasion! Plus, I need video evidence cuz otherwise there is no way Anna will ever believe this. She's gonna flip her-" she suddenly gasped, free hand shooting forward to brush my hair back off my shoulder while getting in close with her phone again. "Holy Jesus H Christ, Lea, what the hell did you do to the woman's throat?!"

I jerked back from her touch, brow furrowing. "My...?" I brought my hand up to brush a finger to my neck. Huh. It was rather sore…

"Dude," she fixed me with a pointed look from the other side of her phone. "It's absolutely covered in hickeys."

"H-?!" I choked on the word, eyes widening and face an inferno.

"Seriously. That thing is more bruise than neck at this point." Rayne leaned in even further with her mobile, fascinated. "Would you lookit that? All the lil ones are coming together to form - dun, dun dun," her voice dropped to intone with deep reverence, "the Mother Hickey!"

I slapped a hand over the spot, trying to cover it up.

She snerked then cackled. "Oh, sweetie. Your hand would have to be the size of an extra large, double stuffed pizza to conceal that monster! Damn, Red, for real… that's a masterpiece!"

Lea gave a sheepish laugh beside me, fingers ruffling his wild bedhead hair. "Guess it is some o' my best work, huh?"

Squeaking, I burrowed into my blankets to hide from the rest of the world.

"Alright, no further comment, show's over now. Riku!" Lea gave a sudden shout. "Come corral your woman!"

I heard a slow creak from my door, then the sound of feet awkwardly shuffling in. "Sorry about-" There was a thud and Riku hissed, "Ow! ...about this, Elsa. I pr-" Whump. "Gah! Promise I'm not-" Bang. "Goddamn it! I'm not-"

"Oh for the love of…" A sigh from Rayne. "Riku! You can remove your hand from your eyes, you goob! She's hiding under the sheets."

"I think I'll keep my hand right where it is, thank you very much!" he grumbled back. He could be heard shambling about for a bit more, peppered here and there by him bumping and crashing into a few more things, before finally, "Ah-ha! There you are!"

"Ack! Riku!" The sounds of what could only be described as a kerfuffle followed. "Put me down, brat!"

"We'll, uh… go get breakfast going and give you two some… privacy," Riku grunted out. Pretty sure I could hear him now literally dragging his wife out of the room. How he managed that one-handed (as I could only assume the other was still being used to shield his eyes), I'll never know. Eventually, mercifully, I heard my door click shut.

Lea gave a soft snort. "So… wanna come out and show me your beautiful face?" he then coaxed gently.

Twitching slightly, I gripped harder at the fabric of the comforter - aka my sanctuary. "Hmm… mm-mm, no, I think I'm good in here, thanks."

There was a brief pause. Then, "Alright. Guess me and my beautiful face are just gonna have to come in there instead." The blankets abruptly lifted, but only just enough for Lea to scooch in next to me under them before tucking them back down around us once more. His shoulders hunched, sheet overhead smooshing his hair down as he shot me a grin. "Hi."

Oh gosh, it was bad enough that he'd been naked before. Now he was naked and close. Not that I could really see anything below the waist - he was still wrapped in sheet down there. Still, even though I couldn't see him in all his nude glory, didn't mean I wasn't one hundred and ten percent fully aware of it and that thought alone was enough to send the blood rushing to my face all over again.

Ugh, calm down, cheeks. You'd think after last night, there'd be nothing left to get so red over.

"Wanna talk about it?" he tipped his head to one side.

"Hm?" I hummed absently, dragging my eyes up to meet his. While the actual goods were currently out of sight, I was still finding just the sight of his bare chest rather, hrm… distracting.

He gave a small shrug, "Whatever it is that's bothering you."

I gnawed on my lower lip and glanced away, clutching the undersheet more tightly to my chest.

...last night had been…

...amazing…

...slow and tender at times, and… heated and passionate at others, as well as, er… how shall I put it... enlightening? Sure, let's go with that. But also, it'd been…

...confusing.

I mean, not in the moment itself, it hadn't been. But now…? Well, it was just… we hadn't really talked about anything beforehand. Frankly, we'd let hormones do all the talking. Hormones were a new experience for me. I'd never even had so much as an inkling of a single solitary hormone ever before and last night I'd been struck by a whole raging tsunami of the damn things. Who knew they could be so, er… persuasive. It'd been all too easy to get swept up in the torrent. But now that the storm had died down, now that morning was here and I could think more clearly, I…

Well, I didn't regret it. No, not one bit. But… I guess I just had questions. Like where did this leave Lea and me? I hadn't forgotten the little detail that he'd never really been the relationship type before, and I had no real solid reason to believe that that was about to change just for me. And what about his whole "no girls until graduation" rule? Just what had this been for him then? A temporary lapse in judgement? A moment of weakness? Yeesh, I didn't want to be one of those girls who got all, "What does this mean?" after they sleep with a guy, but…

You know what? No, there was nothing wrong with being one of those girls. Those girls were valid. Those girls had a right to know and so did I, damn it! I deserved to know if this had actually meant something to him or if I'd just been a… another notch on the headboard or… or if he'd just been sowing his wild oats or-

"Oh gosh, was I just an oat to you?!" I suddenly blurted out, snatching the comforter down off my head with a huff.

"Uh…" Lea fought with the blanket a bit himself before his top half broke free to join me out here, blinking at me owlishly. "...no?" he tried, his guyliner-smudged eyes squinting uncertainly.

Right. Good job, mouth. Way to make me sound like a total crackpot.

Inhaling deeply through my nose and then puffing out a slow breath, I gave it another go. "...was last night just a…" The blush returned as I struggled for the right words. "...a one night stand?"

His shoulders stiffened as his head rocked back. "What?! No. God no! El, I-" his hand was reaching for me, but it stopped just short of my arm. He frowned, pulling it back to instead rub over his mouth then drag along the nape of his neck with a sigh. "Shit, we're always doing things so backwards, aren't we? Kissing before we'd even so much as said our first hello to each other… Going steady before we'd even been on a single date… Now hopping into bed together before taking a minute to tell each other how we really…" he trailed off with another sigh, leaving the thought unfinished.

I remained silent, just looking down as I drew my blanketed knees up, hugging them to my chest.

Lea shifted around so he was instead facing me now, clasping his own sheet to keep it firmly wrapped around his waist. Pulling one knee up himself, he propped an elbow atop it as he bent forward to my eye-level. "Do you remember the story I told about how we met?"

My eyes blinked. "You mean the plot of Before Sunrise?"

Grinning softly now, he said, "If you'll recall, that movie starts on the train. But that's not where the story I told began."

A crease formed between my eyebrows. "No, it started with the lantern festival."

"That's right," he nodded. "...I was there, El. I was really there, same time as you."

My spine snapped straight as I inhaled, small and sharp. "You were?"

"Yup! Everything… seeing you there, the lanterns going up, even the bit about me faceplanting into a lamppost… all of it, and I do mean all of it, was true."

I gaped slightly before shaking my head slowly. "But… you said you'd never seen the lantern show."

"I haven't. Oh sure, I was there, but I was too busy watching you instead," he chuckled, tapping me on the nose.

There was a small flutter inside my ribcage. Still, I frowned. "But… but I was the one who said the city we met in was Corona."

He snorted, scratching a spot behind his ear, "Yeah, and I was floored when ya did. Thought for a sec that maybe you actually had noticed me at the festival. But nope, turned out to just be a lucky shot in the dark!" Lea laughed, then paused with a wistful smile. "...obviously in the real story, I didn't end up following you onto that train, but shit, you dunno how bad I wanted to. But I'd just sworn off girls to focus on college only the day before, and I didn't wanna be so weak as to go tossing that out the window less than twenty-four hours in." His lips then pursed to one side, eyes downcast. "In a way, maybe it was for the best. I don't think the time was right for either of us yet. I… wouldn't have been ready to be the person you needed me to be."

I didn't know what to say to that. Even if I did, I'm not sure if I would have been able to get any words out past the tightening in my throat. So instead, I just settled for reaching for his hand.

Flashing me a grin, he brought it up so he could press his lips lightly to my knuckles before going on, "But man, did I regret letting you get away without even so much as talking to you. Was kicking myself ever since, thinking I'd never see you again." His eyes crinkled as he leaned in closer now, "So imagine my shock 'bout a year later when I spot a very cute, very familiar new girl working the ice cream counter across the food court from me. It'd seemed fate had decided to give me a second chance with the divine creature from the lantern festival. I just hadta meet her."

One corner of my mouth tugged up, "What about your dating hiatus?"

"Hey now, I was just trying to get to know you! You were the one who kissed me first, remember?" his lips twisted into a smirk and I rolled my eyes, feeling heat creeping up the back of my neck. His gaze turned serious however. "...women have always kinda been a weakness for me. I'd practically made a career out of skirt chasing. Whenever it came down to making a choice between the ladies and getting my shit together, I picked ladies every time. But when I finally decided, and I mean really decided to buckle down, I cut that part of my life out completely. I thought it would be hard, but it actually really wasn't. Turns out they'd just been a bad habit I hadta kick. Having them around had been a distraction.

"But when it came to you…" his eyes softened as he reached for a lock of my hair to fiddle with. "The more I got to know you, it… The distraction was… not having you around. I couldn't concentrate on anything else… not school, not work... I was thinking about you all the time. Couldn't get you outta my head. Not for a damn second."

"Lea…" my hand came up of its own accord to brush along his cheek.

He covered it with his own, turning his head slightly to kiss my palm. "...you know with crushes, or love at first sight, or whatever the hell you wanna call it… they say you're not really falling for the person, but rather just the idea of them. That you're just building 'em up in your head, putting 'em on a pedestal… but that when you actually finally do get to know the person, it'll be a letdown. That they won't turn out to be who you wanted them to be." Pressing our foreheads together now, he nuzzled the tip of his nose to mine, "But you turned out to be so much better than I ever coulda imagined."

I scoffed, face burning as I muttered, "Sounds like someone's been watching too many of those cornball movies."

"I mean it, so shush, you," he chided, biting back a grin. Then he was shifting a little closer to me. "What I'm trying to tell ya is that you're stuck with me. I'm not going anywhere. I'm yours, if you'll have me. I am all in."

My breath hitched as I stared into those stunning green eyes of his. I hesitated for a second, my thumb idly stroking along where he still had my hand clasped to his cheek. Then I bent forward, giving him a gentle kiss. "...I'm all in too."

"Yeah?" he murmured, grin twitching wider. "So how 'bout it then? Can I be your boyfriend for real this time?"

I hummed a soft laugh, nodding. "I'd like that very much."

"Good." Lea curled a finger under my chin, pressing his lips soundly to mine. Then he used his hold on my chin to carefully turn my head to one side, eyes half-lidded as he got a closer look at, er, heh… at the Mother Hickey. "Hmm, I really did do a number on this side of your neck, huh? Gotta a bit carried away." He planted a quick peck to the tender skin there, making it tingle pleasantly. Then he was sweeping my hair forward over that shoulder and turning my head the other way, tsking, "While this side," a kiss to said side, "is looking rather neglected. You're rather lopsided here and we can't have that, now can we?"

"No?" I breathed, shivering as I felt his lips graze over my skin, my hand drifting down to trail along his chest.

"Mm-mm. Why don't we see what we can do here to correct this oversight," he said, voice low as he began nibbling at my throat. I could feel him hooking a finger into where I had the blanket hugged to my torso, giving it a gentle tug and-

My door abruptly flew open for the third time. "Elsa! I need to talk to-" Anna - that's right, Anna - gasped from where she stood in the doorway now, slapping a hand over her eyes. Lea and I jerked apart, me clutching the comforter more fiercely to my body than ever. My sister parted her fingers for a peek, then snapped them back closed with a giggle. "Oo la la! You two really go the extra mile to sell this girlfriend-boyfriend act! You do remember calling the whole thing off yesterday though, right?"

Lea hung his head and sighed heavily while I scooted off the bed with an annoyed little growl. Keeping the blanket firmly wrapped around me like a misshapen, makeshift dress, I narrowed my eyes and marched over to her. "What are you doing here, Anna? Why didn't you just call?"

"Your phone's been-"

I snatched her hand down from where it was still covering her eyes, since I refused to hold a conversation with her while she looked so silly. She blinked a couple times before a tiny laugh bubbled out of her, "Oh hi!" I merely drooped my eyelids at her and she cleared her throat, expression hardening. "Your phone's been going straight to voicemail and this couldn't wait!"

That's right. My phone was still dead and I never got around to charging it last night. I'd been a little otherwise, ahem… preoccupied.

I pinched the bridge of my nose with an irritated huff. I didn't want to deal with this right now. Taking hold of Anna's shoulder, I spun her around and pushed her back towards my door, "Fine, then just... try calling me again later."

"What?! No, wait!" Her hands flew out to grab either side of the doorframe and she dug in her heels, bringing us both to a lurching stop. "Sis, I really, really need to talk to you!"

"Well I don't want to talk to you!" I snapped back, pressing my shoulder into her back and putting my full weight into trying to get her moving again. No dice. She wouldn't budge.

"Elsa, please!" she whirled around to face me once more, unleashing the full might of her devastating pout on me.

Fudge. I'd never been able to say no to those big, sad, puppy-dog eyes of hers.

I puffed out a small breath with a scowl. Then I grumbled, "Fine. Just give me a minute to get-"

Dressed.

That's the word I'd been about to say.

However, Anna's excited squeal cut me off and she grabbed my elbow, yanking me along with her as she ran out into the living room. I tried to resist, making a desperate grab for my doorknob but only succeeded in slamming the door shut behind me before it slipped free of my grip. Before I knew it, Hurricane Anna had plonked me down on one of the living room sofas with her flumping down beside me.

"Ugh, not you too," came Riku's groan from the kitchen.

Glancing over, I saw him standing next to a pan sizzling on a stove burner, one of his hands holding a large spatula while the other blurred up to clasp over his eyes. Rayne sniggered at him as she pulled something out of the fridge.

"Hey, I tried to change," I shot back before turning my accusatory gaze on my sister. She merely beamed and shrugged in response. Rolling my eyes, I primly adjusted my blanket-dress with as much dignity as I could muster to ensure I remained one hundred percent PG. My other hand went to my hair, which was still gathered forward over one shoulder, thankfully covering the Mother Hickey.

No need for Anna to spot that, thank you very much.

"Come on, hon, let's get you somewhere where you're free to see," Rayne snorted, relieving him of the spatula and taking his hand in hers so she could start guiding him towards their bedroom.

I shot Anna a dull stare now, waiting with a frown.

Her cue to begin.

"Alright, first of all, we're going to have to come back to that later," she waved a hand towards my bedroom door. "Because okay, wow!"

"I know, right?" Rayne chimed in with a laugh, not having quite reached her room yet. I fixed her with an unamused look and she winced. "Sorry," she whispered, returning all her focus on getting her temporarily blinded husband out of there.

Once they'd disappeared through their door, Anna sat up a little straighter, squared her shoulders, and tugged at her skirt, straightening out its wrinkles. Then she took a deep breath, "Right. Okay, where to begin… well, for starters, I did not - you hear me? Not," she reiterated, striking up a finger for emphasis, "suggest the whole you and Lea thing just to keep Mom and Dad from getting mad about the whole Hans and me thing."

I gave her a flat look, quirking a dubious eyebrow.

"I didn't! I swear I didn't! My actual reasons were threefold. Count 'em, three," she held up the matching number of fingers, wiggling them slightly. Then she ticked off the first one, "A, as I brought up yesterday, I figured having him backing you up would give you the courage to face Mom and Dad. B, I thought that big, scary, redheaded ox of a man would make Mom and Dad think twice before still trying to tell you what to do. Which, in hindsight, kinda backfired… but hey, was worth a shot at least, right?" she gave a nervous chuckle.

I did not laugh with her.

She cleared her throat and hastily pressed on, "And C, it was so obvious that you and Lea had the total friggin' mega hots for each other, so I thought I might play cupid and help that along a lil." Her eyes darted to my bedroom door again before she leaned in closer, waggling her eyebrows, "You're welcome, by the way."

Now I full on glowered at her.

Sense the tone, brat.

She gulped, pulling back again, eyes darting about as she fidgeted with her fingers. Then she huffed, "And fine, okay sure, did I realize you two playing lovebirds in front of Mom and Dad might keep some of the heat off of me and Hans? Yes, but that was more of a… an afterthought! Ya know, like… a nice lil perk on the side. Was it a perk I should have taken advantage of? No. Should I have figured out a different weekend to drop the Hans-bomb? Maybe. But-"

"Sorry, sorry!" Rayne suddenly popped back into the room, sneaking past us towards the kitchen. "Just don't want the bacon to burn. Pretend I'm not here."

Returning my attention to Anna, I saw her frowning, deep in thought and possibly trying to think up a different tactic here. Then she was opening her mouth again, "Look, Sis... he and I didn't mean for this to happen-"

I scoffed, "You said that already yesterday."

"No, let me finish! We didn't mean for it to happen, but it did and nothing can change that now. And you know what? I wouldn't want to change that. I am not sorry." I looked at her sharply and she swiftly amended, "I am sorry if it hurt you. So, so sorry, you have no idea! But I'm not sorry that it happened. You have to understand, he and I… Elsa, it's nothing like I've ever known before! It… it's like fireworks! It's amazing and magical and-"

"He who?" Rayne was suddenly next to us in the living room, making me jerk in surprise.

Jeez, I hadn't even heard her leave the kitchen!

Hand covering my rapid, startled heartbeat, I told her, "Hans. My ex."

"Oh…" the corners of her mouth turned down. Then a blink and a louder, "Oh!" Followed by her eyes narrowing on my sister with a disapproving, "Anna!"

"Fireworks, Ray-Ray! Fireworks!" she snapped back in her defense.

Shaking her head, Rayne directed my attention to what she was holding in her hands - a small bowl of mixed, sliced fruit. "To tide you over until the rest of the food is ready," she explained, depositing it onto the coffee table before making her way back over to the stove.

I stared blankly at the little snack, as if not quite sure what to do with it. Then my stomach gave another growl to remind me.

Oh yeah. That.

"The point," Anna steadfastly insisted, "is that we both know you didn't love him. But I-"

A derisive snort escaped me as I started poking through the fruit. "That is so not the point and you know it."

Her face pinched in annoyance and she spat out, "But I do!"

Snagging a grape, my brow furrowed. "...do what?"

"Love him!"

My eyes widened briefly, then I shot her a dull stare. "...you can't love a man you've just been dating a few weeks."

"And why not?" she glared at me as I popped the grape into my mouth. "You and Lea have been only pretending to date for a few weeks and you're in love with him!"

Cue choking on said grape.

Blasted things are hazardous to your health!

Face roasting as I banged a fist to my chest to dislodge the damn thing and let blessed oxygen back in again, I wheezed, "I'm not- We're not- I mean, it's just-"

"Oh please!" she rolled her eyes. "It's you, Elsa. You. You're the very definition of ice queen. You don't just go around having crazy wild monkey sex-"

"Oh my god, Anna!" I buried my face in my hands.

"Don't oh-my-god-Anna me! It's true! You don't! You never do this! So the only obvious conclusion is that you-"

I clamped a hand over her mouth, fixing her with a tiny scowl. Then I said calmly and evenly, "One, it is not the only conclusion. And two, this isn't about Lea and me. This is about you and Hans." I slowly started to lower my hand but when I saw her sucking in breath to go off once more, I quickly gagged her again. Then I shot her a warning look, silently demanding that she zip it. Her eyelids drooped and I took that as reluctant consent. Taking my hand back now, I looked to the bowl of fruit once more. Hm… maybe a banana slice? Yeah, that seemed less likely to murder me. Bending forward to reach for it, I went on, "Now I know you might think you two are in love, but-"

She abruptly gasped, "Holy friggin' cow, what's that?!"

Suppressing a groan at being interrupted, I grumbled, "What's what?"

"That! On your neck!" With a start, I realized some of my hair had slipped back behind me, no longer concealing the Mother Hickey. The monstrosity had broken loose to wreak its unholy havoc. Anna gaped in pure awe, "Damn, Sis, what was that boy trying to do to you? Draw blood, the friggin' vampire?"

"She liked it!" came Lea's voice suddenly as he exited my bedroom, shutting the door behind him with a smug grin.

Cheeks bursting into flames, I grabbed a raspberry to chuck at him for oversharing.

He caught it easily and sniggered. "Thanks, babe!" he chirped, tossing it up into the air before catching it in his mouth.

Then I looked at him. Really looked at him and came to a realization.

That jerk now had clothes on.

"Hey, no fair! How come he got to get dressed and I didn't?!" I snapped, hand balling more tightly into my blanket-dress in my continued effort to keep the thing together and in place.

Anna whined in frustration, "Sis, focus! We're talking about something important here!"

Says the girl who just got sidetracked by the Mother Hickey.

"Okay, maybe Hans and I haven't been dating for long," she began as out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Lea poking about the living room in various places, searching for something. "But just like you, I grew up with him. We've known each other all our lives. I know him, Elsa. Really, really know him." At last he seemed to spot it - his leather jacket, which he snatched up now from wherever he'd tossed it last night. He came over to me and draped it around my shoulders, ducking down to brush a peck to my temple as he did so. "Know him and… and care about him. I actually feel like this has been a long time coming, Sis. That he and I were just meant to be. It's the kind of stuff that cheesy romcom flicks are made of, what everyone's singing about in all those sappy songs. Ya know… true love."

"Come on, Anna," I sighed as I tugged Lea's jacket closer, grateful for the added bit of coverage. Thumb idly running up and down the metal teeth of the zipper, I muttered, "Thought you outgrew fairytales a long time ago."

"What's with the shit-eating grin?" I heard Rayne asking Lea as he moved to join her in the kitchen.

He shrugged, plopping down into one of the dining chairs, "You'd have one too if El had just agreed to be your girlfriend."

"Oof, point taken."

"Fairytale or no, I love him," Anna said, drawing my focus back to her. "And he loves me! And I'm sorry that we went about it in the way wrong way and hurt you in the process. I really, truly am! But what's done is done. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness so soon, but I'm asking… hoping, really, that you'll still give it… because I need you right now, Elsa."

She reached out for my hand, squeezing it as her face fell as she momentarily paused. Then, "I need my big sis. Hans' parents… they're furious about all this. They didn't want their son with the second Fryse daughter, they wanted you. They're blowing a friggin' gasket, which is making Mom and Dad blow their own stupid gaskets too. Which is whatever, fine, I can take it… but not if you're mad at me too." She sniffled, eyes downcast and bottom lip quivering. "...I could really use you in my corner right now, Sis. Please."

I frowned at her, eyebrows knitting together and not saying anything right away. Then, "...you two… really love each other?"

"Oh my god, so much," she gave a weak wobble of a laugh, fingers swiping at the corner of her eye. "I love him with all of my heart and I know he feels the same way about me too."

I inhaled and exhaled softly. Then I covered her hand with mine. "Fine. I forgive you. And I'm here for you, whatever you need."

"Really?!" Anna cried out. I nodded and she broke out into a huge grin, eyes welling up even further to the point where tears escaped. Then she was tackling me in a hug that knocked the wind out of me. "Oh thank you, thank you! You're the bestest, most amazing, most beautiful big sis ever!"

Who was I to stand in the way of love?

True love, no less. Apparently.

As she pulled away, she was now a blubbering mess and I had to stifle a snort. She'd always been such an endearingly ugly cryer. Jamming the heel of her palm to her nose in an attempt to dam the flow of snot, she asked, "Can I take a minute or two to clean myself up in your bathroom?"

I gestured a hand towards the restroom door and she got up, starting to make her way over to it. "Anna," I said abruptly and she stopped in her tracks, glancing back over her shoulder at me. I hesitated briefly, gnawing on my lower lip and almost losing my nerve. But then finally I began, "Would you… that is, later, would you maybe like to…" my lips clamped shut. Oh gosh, I was getting so awkward over such a silly little question. Taking a steadying breath, I then braved a tiny smile for her, "...do you want to make some scotcheroos?"

...would she even remember?

She blinked. "You mean… as in like when we were…?" Then it seemed to click and her face did this funny thing were it both lit up and brimmed over with even more tears. "Yes! Yes, I'd like that very much! I… Just gimme a sec, I'll be right back!" Then she hastily disappeared into the bathroom, clicking the door shut behind her.

I jolted in surprise as Lea suddenly one-hand vaulted himself over the back of the couch, quick to take the seat next to me that Anna had just vacated. He gave me a toothy grin as he slung an arm around my shoulders, tugging me closer to him.

...okay, this was going to take some getting used to.

A couple weeks of fake dating had in no way prepared me for the real thing.

However, as I felt him pressing his lips to the top of my head and nuzzling his nose into my hair as he did so, I relaxed a bit into his side.

I might... enjoy getting used to this.

Now if only everything else could be so simple. In particular, my family-

"Oh gosh, my family!" I suddenly stiffened.

"Hm?" his hand rubbed up and down my arm outside the jacket. "What about them?"

I groaned, "I just finished telling them yesterday that you and I weren't dating. Now we have to tell them that we are."

Lea squinted up at the ceiling, pursing his lips to the left. "...do we though?"

"Yes! I mean, maybe not right now, but eventually."

His free hand came up to scratch the tip of his nose, then he smiled down at me. "Hey, lookit the bright side though. Now we don't have to explain any of this craziness to the mall or tell 'em we broke up or anything like that."

I fixed him with a deadpan look. "Not helping."

"Doesn't it though?"

I narrowed my eyes up at him. Then I relented with a small huff, "...okay, maybe a little."

"Can I come out yet?" came Riku's rather pathetic call from his bedroom.

"Not yet, she's still naked!" Rayne shouted back as she used her spatula to shift the eggs frying in the pan. In response, Riku made an annoyed noise that was half growl, half moan.

Reaching for a blueberry now, I asked her over my shoulder, "Hey, were you two out all night?"

"Mm-hm!" she hummed back chipperly.

"They were just walking through the front door when they happened upon me in the kitchen in nothing but the bed sheet," Lea supplied, biting into a strawberry.

Glancing her way, I cocked my head. "Where were you guys?"

"Riku surprised me with a romantic weekend getaway!" Rayne beamed, opening the fridge back up. "Speaking of, I noticed as I was dropping my bag off in the bedroom this morning that our room seemed to be a bit, er… tossed about." She wrinkled her nose, "I seriously doubt it, but you two didn't… you know... in there, right?"

My cheeks flared up. "Oh god, no! That was, um…" I cleared my throat, my fingers fiddling with the zipper clasp on the leather jacket, "...Lea was just looking for, uh… for protection."

Rayne glanced at him, eyelids drooping. "And you weren't packing any of that already, stud?"

His fingers ruffled his hair with a chuckle, "Stopped carrying anything like that on me a year ago when I called it quits with the ladies. Didn't want any excuses to give into temptation."

"Ah," she shook her head, stepping back over to the frying pan. Then her shoulders tensed and her head snapped up as a thought suddenly seemed to strike her. "Heh… you, er… didn't happen to find the, uh…"

"Pumpkin spice flavored condoms?" I said dryly and she twitched. "Yes, we did. And Rayne? You have a problem."

I felt Lea's whole body rumble with a laugh, "Yeah seriously, Raindrop, what the actual fuck?"

Turning several shades of deeper and deeper red, her eyes flicked nervously about. "S-someone gave them to me as a gag gift, I swear!" Yeah, wasn't buying it. Didn't help that Lea had found the box already opened. "You, uh… you two didn't actually… use those, right?"

"Heh… needs must when the Devil drives!" Lea snerked as I facepalmed.

Rayne silently squirmed where she stood for an uncomfortable moment as she poked the spatula at the eggs some more. Then, "...let's never speak of this again."

"Agreed," I gave a single, firm nod. Then I was standing up, slipping out of Lea's jacket and leaving it behind on the couch as I started heading towards my bedroom. "And on that awkward note, I think I'll go put clothes on."

"Lemme help ya!" Lea grinned, hopping up to his feet behind me. However, he didn't get very far.

"Ah-ah!" Rayne was suddenly beside him, snagging him by the ear. He gave a pained hiss through grit teeth as she yanked on it, forcing him to hunch down to her height so she could glare at him. "Getting clothes on that girl is the absolute furthest thing from your mind, bucko."

He clasped a hand to his chest in mock offense. "You insult me, madame! I promise I had only the purest, most honorable of intentions!" She stared at him blankly before pinching his earlobe harder, forcing a tiny yelp out of him. "Okay fine, my intentions may of been hovering, teetering towards the slightly dishonorable."

She sighed, "Need I remind you that that room is a future baby nursery?"

"And oh if those walls could talk, the stories they would tell your future bouncing bundle of joy."

Rayne scoffed, dragging him by the ear back towards the kitchen with him grunting the whole way. Shoving him down into one of the dining chairs, she snapped, "Now sit your ass down here and if you even think about taking so much as one step closer to her bedroom door, I'm gonna neuter you with this thing," she poked him in the nose with her spatula. "Capisce, loverboy?"

He held his hands up in surrender, "Capisce!"

I'd almost made it to my room when my stomach gurgled again. I swiftly made a u-turn and went back for the bowl of fruit, picking it up and carrying it back with me. For the road! As I ate a kiwi slice, Riku called out again, "Now can I come out?"

"Almost, Hon! She's heading for her door now," Rayne yelled back as she started taking plates out of the overhead cupboard, still maintaining a wary eye on Lea the whole time.

"Finally!"

However, I was only halfway across the living room when abruptly there was loud, frantic banging on the front door, nearly making me drop the whole bowl.

Ugh, now what?

"Elsa! Are you in there?" called a voice from the other side. A voice that made me stop dead in my tracks and whip around, wide eyed and cheeks bulging with fruit. More thunderous knocking. "Please answer the door, I have to see you!"

That… sounded like…

"...Hans?" I squeaked after choking my food down.

What on earth was he doing here?!

Lea's whole body went rigid as he quickly looked from me to the source of the hammering. Both eyebrows shot up Rayne's forehead. Then she was turning off the stove burner and wiping her hands on her blue plaid shorts as she made her way over to the door. She unlocked it and opened it a crack, politely but cautiously asking, "Hi, can I help y-"

Hans was suddenly shoving his way inside, pushing past her and shouting, "Elsa, where are you? We have to-" His eyes landed on me and he froze. Then determination seared across his eyes and he was marching towards me, "Elsa, I need to talk to you!"

I'd been hearing that an awful lot this morning.

I blinked, taking a step back and shaking my head, "Hans, what are you-"

That's when he finished closing the distance between us, grabbed me by the shoulders and brought his lips crashing down onto me. This time, I did drop the bowl, sending mixed fruit tumbling everywhere across the carpet. Rayne and Lea gawked at us.

I- Wha- Th- Huh-

Just what...

...the actual hell...

...was up with this friggin' morning?!

I mean, come on! More had happened to me in the past thirty minutes than usually happens to me on any normal given week!

And all while I was still wearing nothing but a stupid bedsheet, for crying out loud!

It took a split second for the shock to wear off, then I was scrabbling to wedge my arms between us, shoving him away and furiously scrubbing my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Oh hell fucking no!" Lea was on his feet in a heartbeat, green eyes flashing dangerously and face twisted into a snarl.

However Rayne stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Cool your jets, Red, and shush!"

"But-" he spluttered, apparently too outraged for words. Instead he settled for gesturing both hands angrily towards Hans with a growling huff. Rayne just struck up a warning finger at him.

Fingers abusing the fabric of my comforter as I clutched it to me desperately now, I frowned, "Hans, what is this? Why are you here? How did you even know where I live?"

His brow furrowed and he stepped closer as I hastily took another step back. "I asked your parents and they had Gerda give me the address. But that's not what's important right now. What's important is I want you back!"

Um… excuse me?!

Riku's voice once more came calling from beyond his bedroom door, "What's going on out there? Who's here?"

"Shush!" Rayne snapped back, eyes wide and unblinking so as not to miss a single second of the little soap opera now unfolding in her living room. "Things. Just. Got. Interesting!"

"But-" Riku tried again.

"I said shush, damnit!"

I just stared at Hans, jaw hanging open in disbelief. "...I'm sorry, you what?"

I must've misheard. Yeah, that had to be. It'd be the only thing that'd make any sense and-

"I want you back."

Nope. Heard him right the first time.

"Elsa, sweetheart, we were good together, right? I mean, we weren't perfect, but what couple is? We had a nice thing going though, didn't we? We belong together," he was saying now, his words soft and soothing as he started to reach for me once more.

I swatted his hands away and walked past him, away from him. Unfortunately he moved to follow, pursuing me around the room. "Hans, did you forget I left you at the altar?"

"And I'm willing to look past that!" He grabbed my elbow, making me stop and face him once more. "If I can put that behind us, then you should be able to too. Think about it, sweetheart. Things could go back to the way they were with us. We were happy, weren't we? We made sense!"

"But I don't want to marry you!" I snapped, jerking my arm free of his grasp.

How was he not getting this? Just… how?

He brought up hands in a placating gesture, "And that's fine, we don't have to get married! Not right away, anyway! It was too soon and you weren't ready, I understand that now. Getting married is not the important part. What matters is that we're together. I still care about you and after yesterday, I know that you still care about me too."

"...after yesterday?" Huh? I glared down at my crossed arms, thoroughly confused now. "...what about yesterday gave you that idea?"

"That whole little speech you gave your parents," Hans stated, as if it were obvious. "I could tell how sad and full of regret you were. Regret over breaking things off with me." Uh… what now? "I could tell you wanted me back, that you went through this whole ruse to pretend like you were okay about the way things ended between us, but you really weren't." I wasn't? That was certainly news to me. "I know you're worried you could never earn my trust back, but it's okay, sweetheart. I forgive you." ...gee, thanks? "I want you back. I need you back." He was reaching for me again, this time for my hand, "Please, if we can just-"

I wrenched my hand back, "Why are you saying all of this? You've never talked like this before. Why are you-" I inhaled sharply, suddenly hit with a thought. "...this isn't you… this is your parents talking through you, isn't it? What'd they do? Threaten to cut you off? Oh Hans, you can't just let them-"

"This isn't about them or anything they may or may not have threatened me with!" Translation: yes. Yes it was. "This is about us! This is-" His words abruptly stopped as he blinked, eyeing me up and down. "...are you wearing nothing but a blanket right now?"

Was Mr Perceptive just now realizing this?

Also, kill me. Kill me now.

"And what did you do to your neck?" he squinted, brushing my hair back off my shoulder.

And the cursed Mother Hickey strikes again!

Swear to god, I was going to friggin' kill Lea for giving me the dumb thing!

Hans gave himself a shake, face hardening. "Doesn't matter! What matters is," he snatched up both my hands now, clasping them together between his, "I love you, Elsa!"

...what was this day even?! I mean, seriously! I had absolutely zero clue what was even happening anymore!

However, his words sent a shock of a reminder through my system and my eyes darted over to the bathroom door, which Hans currently had his back to. Still closed. Still with Anna in there. What with the whirlwind the past five minutes had been, I'd all but forgotten she was still here. Oh gosh, could she hear all this?

Licking my dry lips, my gaze returned to Hans and I weakly shook my head. "You… you don't mean that. What about you and Anna? I thought you two were-"

"A mistake," he said firmly, his grasp around my hands tightening. "That's what we were. A mistake. You have to understand, sweetheart, I was… was hurt. And weak. I did something I'm not proud of. But it meant nothing to me, understand? Absolutely nothing! It's you, Elsa. It's always been you. You're the only woman for me."

"But Hans, she loves you!" I argued, wrestling my hands free of his. I could see the bathroom door behind him slowly beginning to creak open now.

He gave a derisive snort. "No she doesn't! She's just naive and thinks she does. Trust me, Anna will be fine. She'll get over it. Anyway, forget about her. The only thing I want to talk about right now is you and me."

My sister stood in the doorway, expression unreadable as she just stared silently at Hans' back. Oh Anna. Poor dear, sweet Anna. She wasn't like me. She didn't know how to guard her heart and not let people in. She wore her emotions on her sleeve. This was going to break her. What would she even say? What would she even do? How-

"YOU BASTARD!" she suddenly roared, charging towards him.

He whirled around with a startled, "Anna? Wha-"

She bodyslammed into him hard, sending them both crashing to the ground where she then proceeded to start royally whaling on him and calling him every nasty word under the sun while I and the rest of the room's onlookers just watched blankly.

...huh.

Apparently, that's what she'd say and do.

Welp. Guess that answered that.

Author's Note: Oh gosh, this really WAS a lot to happen to Elsa in the space of… yeah, 30 minutes sounds about right xD All with only that infernal bed sheet to keep her modesty intact! I just have too much fun torturing my precious awkward penguin, it's all done out of love, I swear xD Anyhoo *throws confetti and blares trumpets* it's official, Lea and Elsa are a couple for REAL this time, huzzah! Did anyone guess that Lea had actually been at the lantern festival? I dropped hints throughout the story, but dunno, maybe they were too subtle… or too obvious and just no one said anything to me xD Anyhoo, not much left to go now, just a lil bit of wrap up!

Next time, how will things unfold from here on out for our newly minted couple? Will Elsa EVER actually get to put on clothes? Will Riku EVER get to leave his own bedroom ever again? Just HOW deep does Rayne's pumpkin spice addiction really go? Is the Mother Hickey ACTUALLY proof that Lea is secretly a vampire? Will Anna LITERALLY get away with murder by the time she's through with Hans? Sorry, running on empty with questions at this point, got nothing but silly ones left for ya'll xD Anyway, stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

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[feistypaants-archived]

Between The Pipes [Chapter 20]

Rating: M Words: 2130 Pairing: Kristanna Summary: When a new owner takes over the Arendelle Ice Breakers, Kristoff isn’t sure about his future with the team. That is, until a PR nightmare throws the newest member of the media team, who also just so happens to be the daughter of the new owner, right into his arms. Kristoff and Anna can’t even stand the interviews they have to do together… how on earth are they going to fix this mess? Hockey!AU.

[Chapter Index]

Where To Read: [AO3]

Notes: In which Kristoff shows his fondness for children and Anna wants him to Nut With Purpose.

I know I had said there would be smut.... but this chapter was long enough........ So i’m going to add a chapter of their date after this night and there u will have the smut. I also literally just finished this so i hope it’s fine I cba to read it LMFAO.

OKAY. BYE. 

Enjoy!

Kristoff couldn’t lie, the last month had probably been the best of his life. He had bounced back in the game and was playing better than he had in a long time, he had an excuse to do all sort of touristy and cheesy things that he had denied himself in the past, and he had Anna, warm and generous and enthusiastic, burrowing under his skin most nights a week, filling in all the cracks he hadn’t realized were there.

She congratulated and comforted in a similar fashion, her mouth hot on his skin as she brought him to climax. Though sometimes he celebrated or mourned by taking her as rough as she was okay with, his teeth nipping at her creamy throat before his tongue soothed the ache. There was a fire between them that burned brighter with each encounter, raging wildly through their veins with no intention of cooling down.

He knew, each time he left her apartment and felt the small ache of loss in his chest, that this was quickly becoming something more than he was ready for, but he couldn’t risk losing her. Not now. Not when she kissed him with such ease, not when she looked so cute as she struggled to wrap her arms around him in all of his gear, and definitely not when she could fuck him within an inch of his life and still leave him begging for more.

He never stopped flirting with her. He couldn’t. Winks and smirks and kisses below the ear with something filthy whispered as he pulled away had become his norm. He wanted her all the time… and he got her, whenever he wanted her. 

And Anna got him, whenever she wanted him.

This new easiness that came from near-constant release gave him a sort of laser focus he didn’t even know he was capable of. Sven teased him that that’s what happens when you have sex after four years worth of dry spells. A newfound ability to not be distracted by how badly you want to fuck.

Kristoff punched him in the arm, but didn’t really disagree.

Today was the children’s event, where local children’s teams of mites, squirts, and pee-wees came out to play with the team and get some invaluable experience learning from professionals. It was undoubtedly Kristoff’s favorite event. He absolutely adored hanging out with the kids, letting them shoot pucks on him, and playing alongside the mini-goalies who all looked up at him with admiration in their eyes.

He wasn’t lying, about wanting a big family. 

Everytime he looked at them, he felt his heart clenching.

The media team was filming the event for their website, and Anna was running around doing some quick interviews with some of the players before the kids arrived. 

“Babe,” Kristoff hollered, quickly getting her attention. “C’mere.”

Her face lit up and she bit at her lip - he’d never get tired of it - before she came over, camera in tow, and grinned up at him, “Yes, honey?”

Kristoff moved swiftly, scooping her up into his arms as she protested, giggles making her seem way less serious, before skating backwards on the ice, his lovely girlfriend gripping his jersey, and the man with the camera jogging out onto the ice after them. “Let’s do some … on-ice interviews, hm?”

And then he set her down to sit on top of his net, skating just out of her reach, knowing she wouldn’t dare jump down in those heels. 

“You’ll regret this, Bjorgman.”

“I’m sure I won’t.”

After a few of the teammates humored them and interviewed with her sitting on the net - each and every one commenting on how nice it was that she was closer to their eye level now - Kristoff finally shooed them all away and kindly told the cameraman he didn’t need to film this next part, before wrapping his gloved hands around her back, pulling her closer to the edge of the net and pressing a firm kiss against her mouth. “I can not wait to take you home tonight and -“

Anna cut him off with a hand over his lips and laughed, a blush rising high on her cheeks. “I’m mic’d!” 

Then Kristoff heard the meek voice of the cameraman hollering across the ice. “Yeah, she’s definitely mic’d.”

And then he leaned closer to where the tiny microphone sat and said “and fuck your brains out” anyway, causing Anna to shove him away and apologize profusely to the man who had to listen. 

“You’re awful.”

“But truthful.”

“So sorry again, Ryder,” Anna called as she turned off the mic pack and waved to the boy whose cheeks were slightly flushed as he tried to focus on getting some b-roll for the video.

“Yeah,” Anna could hear the sarcasm dripping from Kristoff’s lips as he ducked down to bury his nose against her neck. “So, so sorry.”

Kristoff could hear her shortened breaths and feel her quickened pulse beneath his mouth before her hands pushed up against his shoulders. “We’re at work, Kris, you shouldn’t…” He sighed and pulled back, taking in her rosy cheeks and fond smile. “But… later…”

Yes, definitely later. It had been a few days, anyway. “My place? I’ll make you dinner.”

Anna ooohed as she lifted her hands up to touch his cheeks. “I haven’t been to your place…” and then she bit her lip and he felt his heart hammer against his ribcage. “But dinner? With no publicity? Sounds like a date.”

He hummed, bracing his hands on either side of her thighs. “Probably shouldn’t call it that.”

“Probably not…” She winked and ticked a finger under his chin. “Just fueling up for the … marathon.”

Kristoff couldn’t help the little snort that left his nose as she smiled wickedly. He moved quickly to scoop her up, one arm under her knees as he carried her back to the bench. “It’ll be a marathon, all right. 

Setting her down gently on the ice, Kristoff helped her hop up onto the platform of the floor outside the rink and felt the smile on his face widen as she pulled him forward by the collar and planted one more kiss against his cheek. 

“See you later,” she hummed before turning to head into the lobby, and Kristoff felt his knees weaken just a little beneath his weight.

—

-

—

The kids showed up a little early, so Anna spent some time learning all of their names and where they were from before they got to go out onto the ice. They ranged from six all the way to thirteen, and she could feel her uterus crying out as each of them shook her hand and bounced with excitement. 

Their coaches and parents took them to the locker room to get ready after the Ice Breakers had finished their meeting, and when they came back out, Anna couldn’t help but feel her eyes misting up at the sight of all these kids in full hockey gear. They were too cute. 

She leaned over to get closer to eye level, and held out two thumbs up. “Are you guys ready to meet the boys?” They all giggled at the idea of big professional hockey players being called boys, but all started clacking their sticks against the ground as substitution for applause. “Because I know they’re ready to meet you guys.”

Mattias and Sven came up from the ice, gave them all a pep talk, and had everyone organize themselves by position, preparing to partner them up as best as they could. There was almost a one-to-one ratio, but a few of the players would take on two kids at once. Anna gave them all a wave before she headed back out to the bench, sitting and waiting for her next job, watching as Ryder moved around the ice with ease before he settled down to get a good shot of all the tots coming down the runway and onto the ice.

Sven came out first, his voice lowered and booming, and announced them as if they were coming out for a game. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the moment you’ve been waiting for…” The whole team started banging their sticks on the ice. “Your Miniiiii Iiiiiiice Breeeeakeeeers!!!!”

And they came running, all giggling and shaking their sticks in the air, a parade of excited children doing a lap around the ice as everyone applauded them. Then they lined up against the boards, and Sven skated down the line, telling them which player to go meet up with, grinning wickedly as he sent two towards Kristoff. 

Anna watched as one jumped up to hug him immediately, and she literally felt her stomach swoop in excitement. Oh Jesus she wished she could hear what he was saying as he swung the little girl around and smiled brightly up at her. Clearly there was a history there, and she could immediately see why Kristoff wanted so badly to be a father.

He was a natural at it.

He let her go with a smack of his glove over her mask, and got down on one knee to greet the much younger and clearly nervous boy who stood beside them. Kristoff’s smile was bright and inviting as he spoke softly and after a few minutes, he stuck out his mitt, cheering as the little boy gave him a fist bump. 

They skated around for a bit, shot some pucks on Kristoff, let Kristoff shoot some pucks on them, and overall were seeming to have a great time. 

Anna knew she should have been attempting to pay attention to other people as well, but she could not take her gaze away from Kristoff. And when he looked up and caught her staring, the soft smile that pulled at his cheeks stabbed her in the stomach.

There was no way in hell he’d ever be like that scumbag of a father he had.

Never.

Eventually they had some of the kids skate over to her, and Anna did little interviews with each of them, asking them if they were having fun, what their favorite part of the game was, and who their favorite player was. They were all clearly getting a kick out of the feeling of being interviewed like a professional, and Anna absolutely fed into it, talking to the camera like she did during games as she dismissed each kid.

Finally, god finally, Kristoff came up with his kids, bumping them with his hips and skates as they approached, making them giggles as they tripped and moved to right themselves.

“Well hello,” Anna grinned, working hard to tear her eyes away from Kristoff. “What are your names?”

The girl jumped up immediately, grabbing onto the boards and pushing her little purple mask up over her head. “I’m Lily, and that’s Connor!”

“Hi Lily, and hello, Connor.” Anna shook both of their hands and held up the microphone. “Would either of you like to do a little interview?”

Lily, with her lightly dyed pink hair bouncing on her shoulders, could not have said yes faster, making Anna laugh as she reached for her microphone.

“Connor? Would you?”

He shook his head no before ducking behind Kristoff’s legs, and Anna smiled softly. “Well that’s all right. Lily will do all the talking then, right?”

Kristoff leaned down to Connor and grinned. “It’s okay, buddy, I don’t really like interviews either. Anna usually does most of the talking.”

She snorted before leaning over to Lily, tucking her hair back behind her ear. “All right, Lily. When did you start playing hockey?”

Her smile was wide and she grabbed eagerly at the mic, pulling it close to her mouth. “Krissy came to a program I was in when I was like five and he volunteered with us and he taught us how to skate and then he started teaching us hockey things and I” deep breath, “thought it was really fun so I kept playing and he helped me a lot and now I got adopted and my mommy really loves that I have a passion so she let me keep playing and it’s” another deep breath, “been four years and I still really love it and I’m so happy to be playing and it’s all thanks to Krissy!”

“Ah, jeez, Lilypad,” he pushed against her face with his mitt, her giggles muffled by the sequipment. “Don’t embarrass me.”

“Oh, no, no,” Anna grinned, her eyes flicking up to meet Kristoff’s. “Please tell me more about Krissy.”

She watched with intrigue as his tongue ran against his bottom teeth under his lip, as if he was holding back from what he really wanted to say.

Yeah, she was going to wreck him later. She had no more doubts about that.

[rynhaswritersblock]

moonlight tears (blurb) - part two | p.p.

a/n:  for this part (thank u spideybparker for the idea and working with me on this) i'm integrating an au in which you don't see color at its full capacity until you're truly happy. i'm very sorry if this throws off the continuity coming from the last part, but 1) we literally just brainstormed the idea for this part and 2) i felt as though going back and changing the first part would get rid of the authenticity of this book (those of you who've been reading for a while now that i'm all about keeping things real in terms of the writing process and making mistakes!)

summary: part two to moonlight tears! y/n begins to get her color back and peter parker is the sweetest boy in the world

warnings: a bit angsty, a bit fluffy tho too, also i literally wrote over a thousand words but i'm still calling it a blurb cause the first part was a blurb lol. also kinda sloppy writing IM SORRY

+ + +

it was coming back.

maybe it was something about the way you could count on peter being there with you every night, holding you tightly until life's obligations forced him to let go. or maybe, it was the way he'd surprise you with your favorite things, dropping off candy and ice cream and sweatshirts and anything you could think of, filling these items with bundles of his love.

all you knew was, it was peter.

the boy slips in through your window, the sight one that was engraved into the back of your brain from the countless times he snuck in. he pulls off his mask, the same way he always did, shaking out his hair, the same way he always did; everything was the same, every night.

you blink for a second.

tonight wasn't the same.

peter makes a face at your expression, setting his mask on the desk and furrowing his brows. "is there something on my f-"

"holy shit," you whisper, crawling out of your bed and practically stumbling over to him, hands falling onto his shoulders and dragging down his chest, eyes glued to the material of his suit.

"y/n?"

"it's red and blue," you mutter.

the air catches in peter's throat. he croaks. "you can- hold on, you can see it?"

"just a tiny bit."

tears well up in the boy's eyes, as well as yours, and he wraps his arms around you tightly. peter had longed for you to regain your color for so long, a deep ache in his heart at the mere thought of your pain. it wasn't your fault, it was the chemicals in your brain that put this burden on you. despite his lack of depression, peter didn't have his full color. he knew he wouldn't unless you did. a sigh falls from your lips and you close your eyes, nestling against the boy.

it was a step. a small one, but a step nonetheless.

that small twinge, just a mere tint of color, was all the fuel peter needed to almost entirely dedicate himself to you. as much as he hated himself for it, the endless nights holding you with no improvement were beginning to make him feel useless, hopeless.

but now that you saw just a bit of color? pure motivation.

peter was your sun; you revolved around him. he was your person. as much as you hated yourself for being dependent, peter parker made you smile when no one else could. the boy began spewing out ideas and activities to make you happy, even going as far as forcing you to do things you didn't want to, all because he knew it would help in the long run.

alongside the treats and materialistic items, he'd help with your schoolwork, take you on adventures, and, of course, give countless hugs and forehead kisses.

"come on," he whines, pulling at your arm.

"peter," you fight, trying to get your arm back and dive deeper into the covers. "i don't want to."

"and i don't care."

ouch.

what happened to the gentle whateveryouwanttodoi'lldotheworldisyours peter parker?

"it's almost midnight," you mutter, sounds muffled by the covers. go away.

"best time of day!" he chirps. "or, night, whatever- just get up."

"i can't."

right.

there'd be days where that light twinge of color wouldn't be there. they hurt. it was two steps forward, one step back, and to you, a kick in the gut. that's when it'd be worst. energy drained even more than usual, no motivation to do anything whatsoever, despite the taunting love from peter parker.

"guess i'll be carrying you then," peter shrugs, kneeling on the bed and scooping you up in his arms.

"peter," you halfheartedly protest, scrunching your eyes tightly. put me back put me back put me back.

his heart cracks a little at your voice, the limpness of your body and tiredness of your voice daring him to just lay you back in bed and hold you like all the times before. the boy shakes his head as he climbs out onto the fire escape, carefully guiding you through the window with him. you feel numb as he carries you up the stairs.

"open your eyes."

"pete."

"y/n, just do it," he sighs. his broken tone catches you off guard.

you'd been so stuck in your own mind to fully realize how hard peter was trying to help you. it wasn't entirely your fault; you were struggling enough, and having perspective with other people was difficult as hell when you were already fighting with your own head. still, you didn't cut yourself any slack, immediately feeling horrible.

peter did everything in his power to make you feel better, yet here you lay. a dead weight in his arms as he tries to make you smile.

so you open your eyes.

blankets, pillows, and fairy lights lay out on the corner of the rooftop, with a perfect view of the city's lights. a box of pizza and large bottle of your favorite drink lay on the blanket.

a breath falls from your lips and you gently slide out of the boy's arms, walking over to get a better view of the set up.

"like it?"

you turn and practically fall into peter's hold, burrowing your face into the crook of his neck. "thank you."

remembering these moments was what kept you holding on. a lot of the time you weren't living for yourself; you were living for peter.

and that was okay.

but slowly, gradually, color began gaining more vibrancy. the green of the plants in central park, how the leaves changed to bright hues of red and orange as it turned autumn. the deep chocolate color of peter's eyes, the pink of his lips, the redness of his cheeks every time you'd pull back from a hug.

holding on got easier. it was easier to push away your harmful thoughts, to get up in the morning, to get ready and not feel the urge to shove everything away. to not want to bury yourself beneath the warm covers of your bed.

peter gave his heart and a half to you, and you were finally able to give it in return.

as your color came back, peter started wearing more vibrant things. he felt stupid, often donned in pink or yellow, but he didn't care. it was you, and he wanted your life to be as bright as possible in order to make up for lost time.

the sound of him knocking at your door makes your jump from your bed, excited to tell him the news. you couldn't wipe the smile from your face even if you tried. you swing open the door, words itching to leave your lungs, but they're pushed away by a gasp.

"it's so bright!"

peter is silent, mouth fallen slightly agape with wonder and bewilderment. just a few days ago you'd had a setback, and as far as he'd known, it hadn't gotten better.

"gosh, i haven't been able to see neon pink in forever," you breathe.

the boy blinks, gulping as his shirt becomes far more noticeable to him. he looks down, squinting at how it suddenly seems a bit brighter than it did this morning.

"peter?"

his lips tasted the way color felt.

that was the only way you could describe them in order to give justice to the way he wrapped his hand around your neck and pulled you to him, resting his lips on yours oh-so-lovingly, his lips saying the words he was to afraid to speak. i love you more than anything.

you pull apart from him, gasping slightly, taking a step back and putting a hand to your head.

"shit," he breathes, "did i overstep?"

"no, not at all, it's just, uh, sensory overload," you laugh.

your laugh sounded the way color felt.

+ + +

kinda cringe ending MY BAD

HABHSJDSAKJDF that kiss paragraph i literally. just got in a trance and did that thing where you're just like FUCK IT WRITE and i read it back and i was like.... holy Shit what did i just....

ALSO::::::::::: idk if i portrayed the whole getting better part accurately. i've been at that point but i just. do not remember????? so idk I TRIED

[nnegan13]

can you write a fic about Ele telling Edo the backstory of her tattoos like while cuddling in bed?

hi! thank you for the absolute softest prompt ever. literally was melting the entire time I was writing it. 

on ao3 

rest is under the cut! again, I would advise not to read on mobile bc the formatting gets fucked up but like, its ur funeral lmao 

— 

MONDAY 30 MARCH23:14 ELEONORA’S BEDROOM, SAVA’S APARTMENT 

Eleonora ignores the pathetic whine that comes from her naked, stupid boyfriend on the other side of the bed as she swings her legs off the mattress, his large hand slipping over the bend of her hip but finding no purchase as she turns on her bedside lamp and stands up. She looks over at him, eyebrows raised. Edoardo pouts and she stoops down to pick up his discarded T-shirt so he doesn’t see her smile. 

He’s been too pleased with himself tonight. Not that she minds, or anything, but it’s still fun to tease him.

Another whine escapes him. “Where are you going?” 

Pulling the shirt on over her head, she stops at her dresser to slip on a clean pair of underwear and shoots him a little smirk over her shoulder before disappearing into the hallway. A low grumble and an obnoxious amount rustling reaches her ears; he must’ve burrowed into the blankets. The image makes her smile.  

Despite the tightly shut windows, a late March chill fills the apartment and goosebumps erupt across her skin. Maybe she should’ve put on pants. 

After she pads down the hall and finishes in the bathroom, she makes her way to the kitchen to pick over the remnants of their dinner from a few hours ago; the rumbling in her stomach is too loud to ignore.  

Edoardo appears in the doorway of the dining room, clad in a pair of sweatpants, as she exits the kitchen, hall-full bowl of pasta in hand and half a mind to go check on her plants outside. It’s starting to warm up, even just a degree or two, and she wants to see how soon she can move the less winter-friendly plants back out into the sun. 

He must be able to what she’s thinking in the distracted way she chews and darts her eyes around the dining room because he catches her around the waist before she can make it back to her room and climb out to the veranda. The knowing look on his face makes her chest warm. Even doing long-distance, he knows her almost as well as she knows herself. “It’s almost midnight.” 

“Mm,” she hums in lieu of a better answer. It’s nonsensical to check, she knows—she was the one who told him so when the idea first popped into her head the night his flight got in—but it takes up an itchy amount of space in the back of her brain.

“You can always check in the morning.” 

“Or,” she muses, turning her gaze from the hallway to Edoardo’s mildly exasperated face and offering him a forkful of her food, schooling her own expression into one of mock innocence, “I could check now.” 

Before he can voice more protests, she shoves the fork into his opening mouth and takes off toward her room, giggling as he swipes at her arm. She can picture him standing there in the maw of the hallway: fork protruding from his mouth, eyes crinkling at the corners, sweatpants slung low on his hips, and hands opening and closing like they want to grab at something soft—her waist, no doubt, and the thought makes her smile even in her late night induced single-mindedness. 

Once she makes it into her room, she abandons the bowl of pasta on her desk and climbs through her window onto the veranda, ignoring how the chill outside is much worse than in the apartment—she really should’ve put on pants—and dutifully wandering the deck to check her various pots and plants. Inside, she hears Edoardo shut her bedroom door and collapse onto the mattress. 

After poking and prodding her plants long enough that the cold has seeped through her muscles down to her bones, she scurries back inside, shutting the window firmly behind herself and plopping her cold body directly on top of Edoardo amidst his squirming and quiet, humorous complaining. Even as he mutters how obscenely cold and cruel she is for doing this, he wraps his arms around her huddled form. 

She scoots around his chest until she hears his heartbeat firm and steady underneath her ear. Body heat radiating into her, he kisses the top of her head and tightens his hold as a happy sigh escapes her. 

When he speaks, she thinks she might be dreaming. Especially because he’s got her arm pulled away from her ball of a body and is inspecting her wrist like it’s entirely new to him. He’s so gentle, though, that Eleonora doesn’t even notice he’s manhandled her—to put it frankly—until he says, “Who’s Lulu?” 

Blinking, she tilts her head up to look at him. “What?”

“Your tattoo.” He lets her pull her arm back to her person, and she stares at the black words inked onto the inside of her wrist like she’s never seen them before. The late hour combined with his intoxicating body heat makes her brain slower than normal. “Who’s Lulu?” 

“A little cousin of mine,” she says after a long moment, slithering off him to pull the blankets over both of them. Once they’re covered, she lays back on his chest. He’s propped himself up on a pillow, now, and she rests her chin on her folded hands atop his chest.  The steady rise and fall of his breathing lulls her back to the brink of sleep and she resists with her best effort. It’s difficult, but she manages. 

They’re having a conversation; she can’t exactly fall asleep on him.  

Edoardo reaches down until he finds the hem of his shirt she has on and slips his hand underneath, starts tracing his nails on her skin. She closes her eyes as they roll, mild pleasure flickering through her. 

Eventually, Eleonora forces her eyes open again and finds him watching her. Lulu is a heavy subject, one she isn’t sure is appropriate for the light fun that she’s had a hand in supplying for Edoardo’s spring break, but talking to one another, telling each other things when it feels right, has always been something they’ve tried to do. 

The words slip out with an ease that’s grown over the past year, with Filippo, with Eva and the girls, and with Edoardo, most of all. “She passed away when I was younger, probably eight or nine. All my older cousins got a tattoo of her name and Filo took me when I was old enough.” 

“Were you guys close?” His voice rumbles in his chest, vibrating into her person; it’s a true effort to stay awake. 

“I mean, she was just a toddler,” she murmurs. On his face, his expression morphs from one of sleepy interest to sleepy concern and his hand flattens against her back, thumb rubbing slow against her skin. There’s not much to comfort her about; it happened a long time ago, but she appreciates it all the same. “Had a heart defect and got really sick. I don’t really remember much about it, but we would go see her all the time before it all happened.” 

For a moment, they stare at one another, her words hanging in the air between them. She rises and falls with his chest, his thumb continues to sweep against her skin, and a microscopic part of her heart breaks again. Then she shifts off her hands and presses her mouth to his chest, her shoulders relaxing as she moves. 

When she pulls back, he cups her cheek with his other hand and draws her face to his, kissing her twice, gentle motions more for reassurance and affection than anything else. Her chest warms, and she settles back into her previous position. 

“What about the others?” 

“The other what?” 

“Tattoos.” 

“Mm.” Edoardo studies her with those deep brown eyes of his, fingers tracing aimless patterns once more, and Eleonora try to decide where to start. “What do you want to know?” 

Shrugging, he pulls her off his chest and helps her tuck into his side. Once she settles, her head pressed into the crook of his shoulder, his arm curled around her, and his hand under her shirt resting against her stomach just above her hip, he takes her forearm and exposes the inside to the soft lamplight illuminating the room. “You don’t grow any sunflowers.” 

When he traces a fingernail along the edge of the sunflower inked on her skin, she shivers. “What an observant person you are.”

“Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome,” she says, peeking up at him and grinning when he rolls his eyes a little. 

“Why’d you get a tattoo of one if you don’t grow them?” 

As she contemplates for a moment, pursing her lips, he goes back to studying her tattoo, tracing the lines and maneuvering her arm around to see better. She’s not embarrassed, but still thinks it’s true: “You’re gonna think it’s stupid.” 

“I don’t think anything you do is stupid.” 

“Mm.” Watching him makes her smile. “Okay, sure.” 

“Remember, I’m not the one who thinks the other is stupid in this relationship.” 

She props herself up on her elbow to properly glare at him. He grins, self-assured, back at her. “Hey.” 

Squeezing her waist, he says, “C’mon, tell me.” 

“Fine.” She purses her lips and thinks about sixteen-year-old Eleonora’s reasoning behind the multitude of tattoos she got amidst her change in schools. They’re still things she wholeheartedly believes, but sixteen-year-olds aren’t the most eloquent people on the planet, so everything is choppy and awkward in her head. “Don’t laugh.” 

A sweet smile cracks onto his face. He looks excited at the prospect of learning about her tattoos and it makes her grin. “I promise.” 

“Have you ever heard of heliotropism?” He shakes his head. “Certain flowers do it. They track the movement of the sun during the day because the light reactions help with pollination, or internal temperature, or is part of their circadian motion.” 

“And sunflowers do heliotropism?” 

“No, actually.” 

“How misleading.” 

Eleonora gives him a pointed look that he grins at before continuing. “Sunflower buds will do it when they’re developing, but once the flower is fully mature it stays facing east.” 

“And there’s a metaphor, somewhere.” 

Automatically, she says, “No,” even though he’s right. 

It’s Edoardo’s turn to give a pointed look, eyebrows raising and mouth twitching, and she relents. “Fine, there’s a metaphor, but I didn’t know the specifics of heliotropism when I got my tattoo like I do now, so it doesn’t really work all that much anymore.” 

She sinks back down into him, his arm curving around her shoulder again as she situates herself against his side. “I always focused on what other people thought of me at my old school: what my friends thought of me, what my ex thought of me, if I was pretty enough or skinny enough or small enough. And my grades slipped, I stopped eating, I stopped hanging out with people, it was just—it was bad. 

“It got worse when everything happened with my ex. I wound up in the hospital for a little while.” It hits her that she’s saying these things out loud; she’s saying these things to an actual person—to Edoardo—not just to herself. For a moment, her pulse spikes and her stomach turns and her muscles tighten, like they want her to ball up on herself, but he smooths his thumb across her hip and kisses her hairline and she remembers that he’s already seen her lows, he already knows a good chunk of the hurt she’s been though—he was there, after all—and she takes a deep breath. Looks at him. Tries not to blush or smile or do something stupid when the only thing she can read on his face is deep-rooted concern. “I transferred a couple weeks after that.”

Edoardo says nothing, still, which she appreciates. 

“I started gardening when I got out of the hospital,” Eleonora says, a wistful smile forming on her face as she thinks of her crude attempts at keeping her mother’s deck plants alive. “And Filo wanted me to put a giant pot of sunflowers in the corner of the deck because he thought everything was too green. I told him we couldn’t put them in the corner because they have to track the sun to survive and out of nowhere he said that I was like them, that I cared about people’s opinions so much that it would kill me. Then we were yelling and I was crying and he was telling me I needed to focus on something else or I would die.” 

She snorts. “He’s so dramatic.” 

Edoardo’s hand flexes against her waist and she looks up at him. He’s not frowning, looks rather contemplative, actually, and the corner of his mouth twitches. “I don’t know if I’d call it that. You did end up in the hospital.” 

Pressure builds up behind her eyes as he speaks. It’s weird, hearing another person say she was in the hospital, especially when he’s so close to her—it makes it all feel very, very real again. The need to snark back, keep herself from crying, turn this serious moment into something they can laugh at instead, wells up inside her, but she pushes it aside. She wants to be honest with Edoardo, and not just with her words. 

“Okay,” her voice is thick and she doesn’t actually start crying, but he presses his lips to her forehead just the same. “Maybe you’re right.” 

“Not a maybe,” he mumbles against her skin.

The hand that was holding her arm up for his inspection of her tattoo slips down her wrist and grasps hers, squeezing softly. She takes another deep breath. 

“Filo gets all his tattoos to remind himself of things. He thought we could do the same—that I could do the same—so he took me to the parlor he got his done at,” she says. “I was still crying and Filo didn’t know what to do, so he just apologized to the artist once we got inside. And he had decided in the car that I would get a sunflower and what it would remind me of and then I got it.” 

“Filo decided on the metaphor, then?” 

“Yeah. Well—we did, together.” This is the part that’s corny and cheesy and all too fitting of a sixteen-year-old even if the sentiment holds true. She sighs and looks at Edoardo. The brush of his thumb against her hip helps with the nervous flips of her stomach. “The sunflower focuses on the sun to survive, and I should focus on myself to survive.” 

For a moment, he says nothing, just studying her face with the corners of his lips gradually turning up and it’s only this that lets her know that he heard her, that her voice didn’t fade into the darkness engulfing everything outside her bedroom. 

He curls their bodies together, pulling her up into him with the arm tucked around her back and his neck bending and body curving until his lips press into her forehead and the space between them shrinks into a tiny width she could close in a minuscule movement. Their legs tangle together under the blankets. Once he’s situated his other arm across her waist, he draws his mouth a hairsbreadth away from her skin and mumbles, “So you’re the sun and the sunflower in this situation?” 

“Yes,” she says, closing her eyes, and adds after a beat, “Asshole.” 

A chuckle rumbles in his chest and out of his mouth against her forehead and the warm, sleepy feeling descends upon her again. The light’s still on, her brain reminds her, but Edoardo exudes heat and his skin is soft, and she loves laying here and talking with him, even if that talking will soon dwindle into sleep, and so she can’t be bothered to turn the lamp off. 

“I don’t think it’s stupid, Ele,” he murmurs as she fits her head under his chin. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

She doesn’t think it’s stupid, either, but it’s nice that he agrees. 

— 

TUESDAY 31 MARCH 14:22 LIVING ROOM, EDOARDO’S HOUSE  

“What about the spider?” For such a dangerous question, his tone is entirely blasé. 

Eleonora pauses mid-stride and scans the floor and walls around her. Not a spider in sight. Scrunching her eyebrows, she looks back at Edoardo’s wiry frame sprawled out on the couch, his deep brown eyes following her as she returns from the kitchen. A lazy grin tugs at his mouth. If she wasn’t preoccupied with other matters (read: spiders) she might’ve smiled, entertained a few ideas that popped into her mind as he laid there, committed to one and climbed on top of him, but she is preoccupied. “There’s a spider?” 

When it comes to spiders, she doesn’t have an opinion one way or the other, but a confused half-smile spreads on his face, he props himself up on an elbow, and he says, “Yeah, the one on your arm,” with a tone and matching expression that would be cute if he was saying anything else, and she thinks she might have a heart attack. 

“On my arm?” 

Immediately, her heart rate spikes and adrenaline floods her system and she flails her arms around, starts batting at herself to get the alleged spider off her person. If she makes a few inhuman sounds during her brief panic, that’s her problem, not anyone else’s. 

There’s a spider on her arm—on her fucking arm—for fuck’s sake. 

“Is it off? Is it off? Get it off!”

Edoardo’s half-grin turns into an amused grimace and suddenly he’s there across the room to where she’s backed up in her panic, grabbing her thrashing wrists and saying, “Ele, Ele—”

“Don’t fucking—”

“The tattoo! I meant your tattoo.” 

Mouth open, chest heaving, eye widening, she stares at him long enough that his grimace turns back into a little grin. Is he fucking kidding right now? Then his expression turns sheepish as she glares and he shrugs. “We fell asleep before we finished talking last night.” 

A beat passes, then—“You’re so stupid!” 

Once she’s ripped a hand from his grip, she shoves against his chest. There’s not enough heat behind her words for them to stick or force behind her hand for it to hurt, and he looks adorable when he tilts his head like that. Against her will, the corners of her mouth turn up even as she keeps glaring and Edoardo loops his free arm around her waist and draws her into his side. All the while, she keeps shoving against him, tries to force down the part of her that finds the whole thing funny, too. He’s being dumb, she reminds herself, and she’s irritated, but she recognizes the look on his face, the angle of his brow and the twitch of his lips; if there’s one thing she’s a sucker for it’s—“No, no! You don’t get to kiss your way out of this!” 

Already, he’s peppering her face with his mouth, little sweet kisses on her forehead, along her brow-line, down her temple, even as she wriggles in his hold. 

He uses them to punctuate his words: “I don’t—” one on her cheekbone, “—know what—” two on either side of her nose, “—you’re talking—” one by the corner of her eye that forces a smile to her lips, another on her other cheekbone, “—about.” 

He’s made it to the edge of her face, now, and starts pressing tiny kisses from the top of her ear to the corner of her jaw. When she tries to pull away, he laughs a little and holds her tighter, even as she walks her hips, her legs, away from his body. He follows her, kissing diligently at her skin and using the hand still clasped in his to navigate her body back toward him, and she tries to keep her expression neutral, her tone neutral. Tries. “Fucking—liar.” 

“Mm—” Eleonora frowns, but the kisses—slower, now, open-mouthed and edging toward fervent—down her cheek and to her jaw have her lips twitching upwards. His mouth is intoxicating, she decides as her skin heats and her feet stumble. He hasn’t even made his way to her lips, yet, given her a proper kiss that would warrant her mind i wandering, her resolve wavering, her efforts to escape lessening. Damn him. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” She musters a little heat now. He’s so nonchalant, and she’s—worked up in more ways than one. “You’re so—”

“Funny?” More heavy kisses along her jawline, he releases her other wrist and uses his second arm to pull her back into his chest. “Handsome? Wonderful?” 

“Annoying!” It’s an effort to get that same heat she just had into her words, but she’s successful, even against his mind-numbing, blood boiling barrage. Her skin tingles wherever he touches her—his hands on her waist, their legs brushing against one another, and his damn mouth on her neck—every touch zinging up her spine to her brain; she’s so, so warm, and he’s everywhere. 

“Ah, yes, this is exactly what I wanted from my spring break.” The kisses along her jaw and under her chin paired with the brief tease of his teeth against her pulse point undermine his statement, as does the humor in his tone and the smile she feels against her skin. That’s what gets her, she thinks, his fucking smile. “To have my girlfriend call me annoying.”

He’s enjoying this and knows, even if she tries to say otherwise, that she is, too. 

“Mm,” she hums, the hand that should shove against his chest slipping up to grip his shoulder as he continues to tease his mouth along her skin. At her waist, his hands flex, thumbs kneading into her skin, rolling into the tension in her muscles. It’s an effort not to let a moan escape her. Eye closing and mouth stuttering a little, she gasps. “Glad I, um—lived up to your—ah, your expectations.” 

He steps them backwards toward the couch, his hands continuing to flex and squeeze against her waist and a chuckle rumbling in his chest when—despite her best efforts—an embarrassing noise falls from her lips. Teeth grazing her collarbone, he sucks hard enough against the same spot that she’s sure there will be a bruise. She clutches his shoulders as her knees grow weaker and weaker; damn him and his stupid, maddening mouth. It pops off her skin with a wet noise and when he pulls back, she opens her eyes. 

Where the fuck does he think he’s going?  

The tiniest of smirks spreads on his lips and her chest heaves against his; he laughs as she manages a soft glare. “Oh, you surpassed every one of them.” 

“I’m so glad.” Voice weak but pointed, it doesn’t take much effort for him to walk them the rest of the way to the couch he previously occupied, mouth returned to nibbling on her neck, sliding one large, warm hand up to cup the bottom of her shoulder blade and the other down just low enough that she starts to get ideas. She isn’t sure how, but he draws her closer and closer, even though they’re as close together as she thinks they possible can be, and her jaw shudders up and down as he licks a stripe up the side of her neck. She’s embarrassed to feel lightheaded at the whole thing—she hasn’t even kissed him once—but then his mouth makes its way back up to the corner of her jaw and he pulls her earlobe through his teeth and her eyes roll. She shudders, pulling the fabric of his sweater between the fingers of one hand and gripping harder to his shoulder with the other. “Leave a—a good review for me on, uh, girlfriend Yelp.” 

“Girlfriend Yelp?” Incredulity colors his tone like a heady flush colors her face. If she had planned to use her witticism to distract him long enough for her to escape—like she probably should have—or started her own opened-mouth, tongue-included, mind-blowing kissing barrage against him in revenge, she’d be sorely disappointed. Even in his disbelief he doesn’t let up, lips, tongue, and teeth making their way across her jaw, under her chin, and to the other side of her face. Blood pumping, knees shaking, hands balling into weak fists against his chest, Eleonora can’t help the noise that slips out of her mouth as he starts the whole process over on this new, untouched, unattended side of her neck. 

Skin hot and tingling, with enough ease that he can guide them toward the couch, he drives her oversensitivity up the wall. 

That’d be nice, she thinks as he does something truly wicked that makes her knees buckle, to be pressed against a wall. Or to press him against a wall. Her hands slide off his shoulders and fist in his sweater, feeling the hard plane of his chest through the fabric, with half a mind to do just that, but it’s almost like he can tell what’s circling in her thoughts. 

He sucks this other earlobe into his mouth and laughs—fucking laughs—when she groans. 

When the back of his legs hit the couch and their momentum stops, her entire body seems to sag against his and, try as she might to move her hands to pull his face to hers so he could fucking kiss her or something crazy like that, she can’t; he overwhelms her entire nervous system. He sucks on her pulse point again and she thinks she might start convulsing. She remembers, now, that he’s making fun of her for being nonsensical thanks to his stupid, mind fogging neck kisses, and pants, “Trying to be funny—or, or something.” 

“Mm?” That hum sounds entirely too pleased. 

“Yeah—yeah.” The hands at her waist slip just a little further down her body and she gets her own hands to move as well, but all they seem capable of doing is gripping his shoulders and sliding into his hair, pulling it between her fingers. At this, his own little moan vibrates from his chest out of his mouth and into her skin. It feels so good—too good—but it gets him to detach his lips from her neck and she gets a moment of clarity. 

She’s supposed to be yelling at him for being a little asshole right now. 

Just as she realizes, his arms band a little tighter around her, he pulls her up onto her toes, and presses his lips back into her skin, muttering, “Well, I hope I get an equally good review on boyfriend Yelp.” 

Her moment of clarity disappears and goosebumps burst along her skin, up the back of her neck, and all over her scalp. She tries not to shiver too hard, one hand fisting in his hair again and the other squeezing his shoulder. 

And finally, blissfully, maddeningly, Edoardo shifts his mouth from her neck onto her lips and she whimpers, tension leaking from her body. Their progression to sit on the couch pauses for several long seconds. These kisses are slow, sensual, mouths sliding hot against each other, his tongue sweeping across her bottom lip. When she tugs on his hair, his mouth opens in a slight gasp before she licks into his mouth with a laugh. 

After enough time passes that she can’t tell whose breath is whose anymore, Edoardo pulls his mouth from hers, pressing their foreheads together and eliciting a whine from deep in Eleonora’s diaphragm. Laughing, he braces his hands at her waist and sinks into the couch, pressing singular kisses to her lips as she bends to follow him. 

Once he settles, she lowers herself onto the cushions, first one knee and then the other on either side of his hips, and slides her mouth over his again; her hands cup his cheeks and he tilts his face up to her. As she takes her time kissing him into as much senselessness as he had done to her, he palms the back of her thighs, heat warming her skin as he trails them up her ass to the top of her shorts. His fingers slip into the waistband and her shirt comes untucked. She shivers, his hands slipping under the fabric, nails tracing over her skin as his hands move up and up, from the small of her back around to her ribs, up her sides. She sinks into his lap, her shirt rucking up and exposing her heated skin to the cool air of his living room. A gasp slips from her lips into his—

Edoardo draws back, chest heaving, and her mind registers the smug, excited smile spreading on that mouth that she should be kissing but isn’t anymore. What the fuck is he—

One of his hands drops lower on her waist, thumb pressing against her skin over and over as if to say hey, don’t worry, we’ll be getting back to this in a moment. The other pulls her shirt further up her side until his fingers run along the waistband of her bra and the skin underneath. He ducks his head out of the gentle hold she has on him, and for a hopeful moment she thinks he has other ideas, but his mouth doesn’t latch onto her ribs. No, he just stares at her skin, fingers ghosting a hair below the waistband. Eleonora frowns. “Edo.” 

“Hm?” 

She leans back, taking a hold of her shirt so she can see whatever he’s looking at, and glares as their eyes meet. It’s the fucking fast forward symbol tattooed on her ribs right in front of his face. “Really?”  

He leans back into the couch as she drops her shirt. It pools over his wrist, his hand still cupping her ribs underneath her bra, and she folds her arms over her chest. “We never finished talking about them.” 

“And so you asked about the spider.” A nod. “And scared the shit out of me.” 

A smirk slides onto his face. He intertwines his hands together at the small of her back and pulls her closer to him. “Maybe.” 

“Maybe?” She raises an eyebrow, her earlier annoyance flaring up and down as she studies his damn face, contemplates the fact that he used a known weakness of hers—fucking kissing, it’s so distracting—to get her to talk about her tattoos again. It’s ridiculous. He’s ridiculous. “Don’t lie.” 

“Okay.” Another tug closer. She braces her hands against his chest to keep her balance and the corners of his mouth twitch up. 

“Okay.” She sits back in his lap but it does little to put more space between them, even though that’s what she needs to keep from giving in again. “And you had the perfect opportunity to ask me about them again, but you kissed me instead.” 

“You brought kissing up first.” 

“Mm, don’t turn this on me.” She pokes his chest. “You are the only one at fault.” 

He nods, his hands slipping from one another. One presses flat against her back and the other opens and closes into a loose fist against her skin, light scratching. He’s doing it again, trying to distract her from her mild annoyance, and he knows it’s working, like she knows how to get him worked up, too—skin heated, mind dizzy, too aroused for public decency but not so much as to be cruel—even when she’s not in the mood for anything more. He’s playing her at her own game. The problem is: it’s working. 

She tries not to smile. The game, she knows he enjoys it even if the outcome is mildly infuriating for him; she just can’t believe that it’s the same now that the tables are turned: even if she’s annoyed, there’s a thrill underlying it all.  

“Okay, I take all the blame,” he says, grinning. “What does this one mean?” 

He’s going to love this: “Nothing.” 

“Nothing.” His grin slips from his face. She presses her lips together to keep from laughing. “You’re serious.” 

She nods. “As serious as I’ve ever been.” 

A pout replaces his grin, and he shakes his head. “I can’t believe—”

“Hey!” She shoves at his chest. “Not every tattoo has to have a super deep meaning.” 

“Mm, okay, why’d you get it then?” 

“I think rib tattoos look really cool.”  

“Ele—” she doesn’t let him get much farther, cupping his face and surging forward, foregoing her internal debate about the morality of their game in favor of using it to distract him once more. She slides her mouth over his and laughs at the surprised sound he makes. His hands flatten against her back, pulling her torso flush against his, and her hair falls like a curtain around their faces. After a moment full of his mouth and his tongue and his breath mingling with hers, she slips a hand into his curls and tugs just hard enough. 

Plus, she thinks as his mouth opens underneath hers and he bites her bottom lip, they both like the game. Her tattoos can wait. 

— 

FRIDAY APRIL 3 16:33 DOCKS, FIUMICINO 

“Okay,” he starts, drawing her attention from the glint of the sun off the waves to his face where he lays with his head in her lap. He’s got his eyebrows raised. “Just to preface: I’m not asking about an actual spider this time.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Eleonora says, looking away, but smiles when he laughs something sharp and bright. When she pointedly keeps her gaze locked on a passing boat in the distance, he tugs on her shirt until she relents. “What?” 

“Hey.” Edoardo’s voice is soft and sweet, now, sensitive to her annoyance but still amused, if only a little, by her reaction. Earnestness shades his eyes. “Will you tell me why you got the spider tattoo?” 

For a moment, she watches him, studies his eyes, the way the sunlight glints off their glossy surface and turns his irises into a backlit brown, like coffee or cola. His hand encircles the wrist she rests on his sternum and one corner of his mouth pulls up. The smile that blooms when she nods is bright like the sun. Her chest warms. 

“It was Filo’s idea again.” 

His laugh echoes off the water. “Really?” 

“Mm.” 

“Do you have any tattoos that weren’t his idea?” 

“The fast forward,” she says, pinching his chest and raising her eyebrows when a playful wince scrunches up his face. “And you seemed pretty interested in that one the other day.” 

“Well, what piques my interest piques my interest.” 

“Piques? Is Cornell expanding your vocabulary, or something?” Her other hand drifts into his hair, winds a curl or two around her index finger. His smile makes her chest warm further. “I thought you were there for business: finance and accounting and math.” 

“I’m interdisciplinary.” 

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less.” 

He snorts a little, and covers his eyes with the back of his wrist. “C’mon, tell me.” 

“Okay.” She presses her lips together and draws her hand from his hair so she can lean back on it. From the moment the topic of tattoos came up, Eleonora knew they’d be delving into rough terrain, so to speak. A lot of things have happened to her and the tattoos have been—therapeutic, if nothing else. They’ve covered heavy stuff, stuff she’s been scared to talk about with most people before, but he’s still here with her, still sleeping in her bed, still laying with his head in her lap, still waiting to hear every word that comes out of her mouth. 

What’s a little more weight, then? 

“Nymphomaniac wasn’t the only thing I was called at my old school,” she says, voice dropping to a whisper. “It was mostly your typical slut-shaming rhetoric, but everyone’s favorite seemed to be ‘man-eater.’” 

His voice hints at derision, low and rough, and his jaw clenches as he mutters, “What a title.” 

“I know, right?” 

A beat passes. They listen to the waves lapping at the docks and crashing against the sea, the wind whistling at a low pitch, each other’s breathing. Edoardo’s hand doesn’t tighten or loosen against her wrist, but rather his hand shifts to cover millimeters more of her skin, to offer his presence. Tension she wasn’t aware of drains from her shoulders. 

“And the most famous man-eater is the black widow. Filo said I should get a tattoo of one, reclaim the term. Give an actual reason to be called it, besides rumors that weren’t true.” She shrugs, even though Edoardo’s hand still covers his eyes. “So I did.” 

Several moments pass and she turns her face up to the sun, closing her eyes. That warmth in her chest doesn’t disappear as she talks about her tattoo, rather spreads as the sun falls on her skin, and soon her entire body is pleasantly warm. Filippo was clever when he came up with the idea, she thinks, her lips twitching up, and it’s fun to tell someone else about it. 

Edoardo hums and she looks back down at him. He’s pulled his arm off his face and watches her with a contemplative expression, like he’s trying to decide how to feel: angry on her behalf, or amused by Filippo like she is, or maybe even indifferent. It happened then and now it doesn’t anymore. Not much to do. She doesn’t figure out what he chooses, he speaks too soon: “Can I see it?” 

Shrugging off her jacket, she braces herself against the early April chill and rucks up the sleeve covering her tattoo before twisting her arm and showing it to him. His hands are gentle when they grasp her arm, one steadying her wrist and the other beneath her elbow. Unlike the air around them, his hand is warm and helps maintain the contented feeling grown in her chest, spread down her limbs, along her bones. She smiles while he studies it closely, his head lifting slightly from her lap to peer closer. 

Once he’s done, he lays back in her lap, the fingers at her wrist slipping down to hold her hand. The other settles on his stomach and she relaxes her arm so their clasped hands rests against his sternum above his heart. “Mm, I like it.” 

Eleonora smiles. “I’m glad.” 

He closes his eyes against the sun again and for a few minutes, they sit there quiet in the bright afternoon light. In her lap, his head grows heavy enough she thinks he might’ve fallen asleep, though he hints at a smile when she starts playing with his hair. They’ve stilled enough she can feel his heartbeat beneath where their hands lay. A few beats pass. “All this talk of tattoos is making me think of getting one.” 

“Yeah?” He’d look good with tattoos, she thinks. They’d look nice against his skin, against his body. She presses her lips together to keep from smiling. “What would you get?” 

“Well, since you think rib tattoos are super cool—” of course he’d mention that, the asshole, “—obviously I’d want to get one of those.” 

“Mm, yeah?” She brushes a few curls off his forehead, and a mingle of dread and anticipation fills her stomach. He’s going to say something stupid, she knows, and amusing in that infuriating way of his. “Of what?” 

“A big ass drawing of your face.” 

“Asshole,” she says, stifling her laughter. 

He grins. “I was thinking I could get Nico to do it.” 

“He is the only one who could get my face—or anyone’s face—to look good as a tattoo, you’re right.” It really isn’t meant to be anything self-deprecating, but Edoardo takes each and every opportunity to tell her she’s beautiful that he gets. Even something silly, like this. 

A squeeze to her hand, accompanied by an earnest smile, raised eyebrows. She scrunches her face even as he says, “You’d look magnificent as a tattoo.” 

“Oh, compliment me further, please.” 

“Ele,” he chuckles a little like he can’t help it, even as he tugs on her hand. “I’m serious. Even if I wouldn’t get it tattooed, I’d love to commission Nico to draw you.” 

“Like one of his French girls?” She doesn’t look at him, she can’t look at him. 

“Ele.” 

She looks at him. Her breath hitches. A blush rises to her cheeks. Even after a year, Edoardo does and says things that make her heart beat faster. Says them all with the most serious expression, the most genuine tone, that it’s impossible not to believe him, and it makes her chest smart. The fucking charmer. “Don’t say things like that if you’re not serious about it, you’ll get my hopes up.” 

In an instant, he sits up, ferventness smoothing his expression until a small smile remains and the middle of his brow lifts. The skin around his eyes crinkles as that smile grows. “Yours is a face people would put in museums, Ele.” 

“Stop.” 

“No.” He leans toward her and presses the lightest of kisses to her mouth and draws back so she can see his face once more. “You’re beautiful.” 

“Stop.” 

“You know how you feel when you look at a garden or at a flower or a bush you think is really nice?” he asks, ignoring her protests, shifting his legs underneath himself to turn more fully toward her. He props up a bent knee and wraps his arm around it, scooting himself closer. “That’s how I feel when I look at you.” 

Her lips part as her focus flickers back and forth between his irises. Not a speck of dishonesty mars his face and the warmth in her chest spikes, her pulse races. “Edo—”

A finger comes up and presses to her lips, replaced quickly by his thumb. It ghosts over her skin and goosebumps erupt down the back of her neck and along her shoulders. “No, don’t say anything, you’ll ruin it.” 

Eleonora raises her eyebrows, face scrunching up. He’s right, after all. Accepting compliments is not her strong suit, even after a full year of him giving her a multitude of opportunities to practice. 

“You are beautiful, and wonderful, and smart.” He cups the back of her head. “Let me tell you that, okay?” 

After a moment of hesitation, she nods, and he proceeds to do so for several long minutes that make her squirm and smile and blush and makes her heart ache. She blushes so much as he lavishes her with an endless string of impassioned compliments that she’s far warmer than she was just the other day when the same mouth—now spouting adoration in a tone that can only be interpreted as honest—riled her up so much she thought she might burst from it. At the end, he gives her sweet kisses that can’t be strung into anything longer because they’re both smiling too hard; her out of the absolute fluster he’s caused and him from the reaction he’s drawn, she’s sure. 

A final kiss, then he sits back and beams at her. 

She purses her lips and shakes her head, squeezing his hand before changing the subject. “Okay, beyond the one of my face, what tattoo would you get?” 

Edoardo smirks at her pointed look, but his expression sobers as he thinks. After a second or two of consideration, he shrugs. “Probably something to remind me of my mom.” 

A soft smile slides onto her lips. Her voice is quiet. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” His own smile broadens as he thinks further. “She loved the sea, being in the water. Maybe I could get a wave, or a boat. Or a surfboard, she loved surfing.” 

“That sounds really nice.” She brushes the stray curl always falling into his eyes away from his face and he kisses her palm when she draws her hand back. As she speaks, his gaze never leaves her face. “I think she’d really like that.” 

“Yeah?” 

She nods, and her smile turns sheepish as she thinks of what she wants to say next. He spent several long minutes singing her praises, its the least she can do to say what she’s thinking: “I didn’t know her, but I know you. And something tells me that’s close enough.” 

The smile she’s rewarded with makes that warmth in her chest flare. He is as bright as the sun, talking about his mother, and radiates light. It’s contagious, she grins wide. 

“You’re too nice to me, sometimes.” 

Of their own accord, her eyebrows raise. “Says mister ‘compliment my girlfriend for ten minutes straight.’” 

“Those are well deserved.” 

“So is this.” She hopes he reads her honesty, understands how much she means it. As he studies her, his eyes flicker over her face, lighting on each of her features before returning to her eyes. He shakes his head, but smiles, and she squeezes his hand again. “She’d like anything you do.” 

And again, the staring. Just as she can’t take her compliments, neither can he, even after her attempts to match him the whole year. 

She whispers, “Let me tell you that, okay?” 

It’s his turn to part his lips and look hopelessly at her and nod after a pause. Eleonora smiles. 

A quiet few minutes pass in which they kiss and kiss and kiss until she’s out of breath, the wind whistling in her ears and cooling her skin, but not her heart. The sun shines bright, still, but it’s nothing compared to the light on Edoardo’s face as they draw apart. They settle into a cuddled clump once more, waves still lapping at the dock like he hadn’t upended her world for the thousandth time. She tucks into his side, one of his legs propped up behind her back and the other slid under her bent knees, his arm draped across her shoulders so he can play with her hair. 

Every muscle in her body relaxes when he tugs her closer and she smiles, turning her face into his chest. His sweater is soft against her cheek. “You could get Nico to draw the tattoo for your mom.” 

“You think?” 

“Of course.” A yawn escaped her. “You’ll want to have it drawn up before you go to the parlor. What reminds you of her the most?” 

“The ocean. When I play the guitar. Being with my nonna.” 

“Hm, okay, what we need to do is talk to Filo, of course, he’s the resident tattoo expert, as you probably know.” 

Edoardo’s laugh rings clear out over the ocean. Eleonora grins. 

[tibbinswrites]

oh my god I would love a prompt for destiel + 78 (unless u aren't into writing destiel then anything spn is fine 😊) no pressure tho!

Whelp, here it is! Sorry for the wait. I hope you like it. It’s my first attempt at smut and is pretty much all angst (which is why I’ve placed it under the cut).

Destiel is my favourite pairing, I promise! I didn’t write this just to torture them!

You picked SUCH a good prompt, my friend, excellent random number choosing.

(send me a number between 1 and 635 and I’ll write a thing for you)

78. Somewhere back along the line you lost your love and I lost your trust. (Fade Away – Bruce Springsteen)

When Dean pushed through the bead curtain of Cas’ cabin, he didn’t even look surprised to see him lying underneath one of the camp’s other residents, grunting and gasping out encouragement as he was fucked deep and tender. One hand clutched at the guy’s ass, the other slid through his receding hairline. For Cas’ part, it didn’t bother him that Dean had just walked in either, he just glanced in his fearless leader’s direction without his hips even slowing their pace. Dean stood there with his arms folded and looking all kinds of imposing. Cas just rolled his eyes; sex was enjoyable, one of the most enjoyable things he had found, in fact, and Dean was not going to spoil it by being… well… Dean.

“Get out.” Dean said harshly.

Cas cursed as Jeremy practically toppled off (and out of) him in shock, accidentally planting an elbow in his (soft, weak, malleable) stomach.

“Sir!” Jeremy stammered, trying to salute while grabbing for his pants with the other hand. Cas smirked, shifting himself more comfortably against the pillow so he was at least more reclining than lying. He didn’t bother to reach for the sheet, there wasn’t any part of him that Dean hadn’t seen before. He tucked an arm behind his head and tried to affect a coquettish tone.

“Is it your turn now, Commander?” He teased as Jeremy scrambled from the cabin with his fly still open and his shirt unbuttoned.

“Are you the camp whore now, Cas?”

“Of course not, I don’t get paid.” He rolled over to reach his bedside drawer and pulled out a joint and a lighter, not bothering to offer one to Dean, he wouldn’t take it, not anymore. “You couldn’t have waited until we finished?” 

He took a deep drag, letting the drug work its magic and sighing as it did. Suddenly his stomach didn’t hurt quite so much, and that brief flash of irritation was soothed away.

“Would you have finished?” Dean said. And it wasn’t a question, merely what passed for his version of a joke now.

Cas snorted obligingly. “One way or another, yes,” he answered anyway.

“Put your pants on.”

“Why? Aren’t you going to just take them off again.”

Dean looked revolted, as though he hadn’t fucked Cas in this very room multiple times.

“I’m not interested in sloppy seconds. And we’ve actually got more important things to think about than your dick.”

Cas took another lazy drag, more just to irritate Dean than because he actually wanted to. The smoke curled in front of his eyes and through the haze he saw Dean’s shape and could almost, almost pretend.

“Are you sure?”

“Cas!” Dean barked.

“Fine.”

Cas dressed one-handed —far more gracefully than Jeremy had, it had to be said (heh, graceful he wasn’t, not anymore, no, he was gracegone, gracedepleted, gracedead) —and after a few minutes he stood in front of his commander, puffing on his joint.

“You sure you’re not paid?” Dean observed, nodding to the weed.

Cas shrugged, “Tokens of appreciation aren’t payment,” he said, “I still let you fuck me and when was the last time you brought me flowers?”

Dean’s entire face seemed to tighten then, he hated it when Cas referred to their naked activities when they were both clothed, or really at all. Honestly, Dean seemed to hate pretty much everything these days. It was getting depressing.

“There’s a run leaving in fifteen.”

“And you made me put on pants for that?” Cas complained. He didn’t go on supply runs anymore, not since Risa had caught him taking whatever those pills had been in the back of the pharmacy they were raiding. She called it reckless and dangerous behaviour that put their whole team at risk; Cas called it efficiency seeing as he only would have taken the drugs back at camp anyway and at least this way he had more space in his pocket for the antibiotics they were supposed to be scavenging for.

Dean hadn’t seen his side of things.

“Lewis and Gregson got got.” Dean said, his voice as blank as his eyes, “There are croats wandering around near camp and I wanna find them before they find any more stragglers on patrol. Provided you’re sober enough to handle a weapon?”

“Never been a problem before,” Cas said with a salacious wink. He’d found it was easier to lean into the blitzed out sex-fiend persona than it was to admit how goddamned horrible everything in his life was (and goddamned indeed, literally. Abandoned, alone and stripped of everything great and righteous and holy that he had ever been).

Dean ignored him. Once he would have seen through Cas’ walls, tried to talk, tried to actually show him some comfort. Even though he had admittedly never been great at feelings, at least he’d had some back then. Now, Cas was pretty sure that Dean’s capacity to care had died when the resulting shockwave of Lucifer taking hold of his true vessel had been transmitted directly (and painfully) into Cas’ brain.

Cas trailed after Dean through camp, not bothering to match his stride, they weren’t equals anymore, not even friends really. Dean hated him, for delivering the news about Sam, for not being able to save him, for being a living, now-breathing, reminder that there was a God and that He didn’t care about the world He professed to love. To Dean, Cas was just another broken promise in his lifetime of trying to pick up the pieces.

He wasn’t making things better for Dean like this, he knew he wasn’t, but Dean wasn’t the only thing who’d lost everything. Cas’ home was gone, his siblings left him without a second thought, his Father renounced him and pulled his power from him and now he was useless and human and the only other person who might have cared suddenly didn’t.

Also, he’d lost two literal limbs and Dean acted as though he should just be able to walk it off. The brief high of orgasm and the longer-lasting bliss of pills was the closest he ever got to flying these days. He resented it as much as he mourned it, hated it as much as he indulged. But hey, the commander had a mission, and Castiel was still a soldier.

It was cold and Cas pulled the jacket a little closer around himself in the grey morning, glad he’d grabbed the thing on the way out and at the same time irritated that that had even been a thought to cross his mind, as though temperature was something he thought of now (it was, apparently).

Risa glared at him when he pushed through the flap of the command tent. Why their base of operations was a tent when their resident bum got the second-biggest cabin, Cas couldn’t even guess. Pity probably; he had changed species after all, he might as well get a double bed.

“Awake then?”

“Up and active, thanks very much.” Cas snarked back, ignoring the bare curl of contempt in her mouth at the implication. He actually liked Risa, despite all her hard edges she did still have something of a heart. She cared about her team at least, enough to know that it was better for everyone if Cas wasn’t involved, and enough to fight Dean on things that she thought were too dumb and suicidal, things that Cas had stopped caring about years ago.

“Who was it this time?”

Cas grinned, “I can’t seem to recall.”

Risa sniffed and turned to Dean, “Is he going to get us killed out there?”

“He’ll be with me.”

Risa pursed her lips and nodded, clearly unhappy but not willing to pursue the argument.

“Okay, so, you’ve got your team ready?” Dean continued, placing his hands on the table. He seemed impatient, itching to get out there and kill some monsters. “You take your team left as you leave camp; Burrows,” he indicated the large man half-hidden in shadow that Cas hadn’t even noticed. Lax of him really, poor observing, especially on a mission where they were going looking for things that wanted to kill them. “will go about fifty feet out. Cas and I will go a hundred and widen the circle. We’ll keep going like that until we flush these things out, got it?”

Burrows gave a jerky nod, Risa muttered a confirmation. Cas said nothing, he’d follow Dean, everything else was irrelevant.

“Then let’s go kill some evil sons of bitches.”

It wasn’t difficult to see why Dean was the leader in the way that the others jumped to do his bidding. He had a presence to him, steel forged with blood, a legacy hard-won and a respect earned. The whole camp bowed to him, followed his word, trusted him to look after them, to take out the infected no matter who they were (or had been). They trusted that he knew what he was doing. He was revered if not liked. He could be harsh and stubborn and didn’t often take the time to explain why people were to do something except ‘because I say so’.

Perhaps it was only because Cas had known him before, but he had actually stopped liking Dean some years ago. He still loved him of course (he didn’t think there was anything in existence that could change that), still respected him, still believed in him, but he couldn’t help but miss the softness that had once been so close to the surface, he missed the easy smiles and laughter that wasn’t spoiled by derision. He missed the jokes and the references he didn’t understand and the music and the car.

Baby had been left to rust under a tree at the edge of camp and every time Cas saw her it felt like there was a hole boring into his abdomen. When they’d first parked her (she was impractical after all, not suited to off-roading and not big enough for a decent supply run), before Sam, Dean had been meticulous in his care of the vehicle. He’d covered her with a tarp when it rained, kept her polished and pristine, turned over her engine to keep her purring, sat inside her, sometimes with Cas next to him, drinking beer and playing through his cassette tape collection.

He missed his Dean, warm and funny and shy and wickedly intelligent, he missed the man who loved to cook, the man who had convinced him that he was worth staying behind for, the man who had kissed him like it meant something.

He had never had sex with that Dean, but he had been more intimate with him in one conversation than in all the things he had done with this cold imitation in front of him now, the one who roughly grabbed his arm to pull him to standing, who thought nothing of leaving bruises on his (now bruiseable) skin, who practically shoved him out the door and towards the armoury.

Once they were geared up, Dean nodded a tense farewell to Risa and Burrows and he and Cas headed out first. The plan was to enter the woods at the same time and to keep an even pace so they could easily find each other should help be needed.

It was stupid of Dean to just take Cas, particularly when the other teams were made up of half a dozen soldiers each, but Cas didn’t question it. Perhaps Dean just wanted a break from being the leader, or perhaps Dean was finally ready to kill him, leading him into the woods and telling him to think of the rabbits before putting a bullet in the back of his head. Cas snorted, a fitting end to his life as any, he supposed.

“What’s funny?” Dean demanded.

“Oh, nothing,” Cas said airily. “Just wondering if this is the part where you kill me.” He grinned at Dean and was surprised to see a flash of something in those cold eyes before he shook his head and turned back to the trees, gun held at the ready.

���I’m not gonna kill you, Cas,” he said quietly.

“Yes you are.” Cas said, as sure of this as he was of anything. “Maybe not today but you are going to be the death of me.”

Dean said nothing to that and Cas frowned at his expression, it was angry, because of course it was, but there was something else there too, guilt? Sadness? Grief?

“Hey,” he said gently, reaching out a hand to run his thumb once over Dean’s cheekbone, and Dean let him, which was more than he expected. “Don’t look like that, it was always my choice. I will die for you, Dean Winchester, and for nothing else.”

Dean pulled away after a moment, his face unreadable once more.

“Eyes open,” he said, beginning to walk again.

Cas followed, his gun at the ready. It was even colder under the trees, the watery sun diluted further by the lush canopy. The earth smelled of damp rot, clean in a way that so little was these days. His boots felt the ground give slightly with each step but thankfully it wasn’t muddy enough to hold him. A slight wind rustled the flora and made him shiver. Dean seemed unperturbed, used to things like cold while Cas was still adjusting, even years later.

He kept his eyes sharp on their surroundings as together they moved deeper into the foliage, falling into step this time, each taking turns to check behind them. There were more places to hide now but croats were unsubtle, they didn’t hide when there was the chance to spread their disease to fresh meat so he wasn’t worried about an ambush so much as he was about missing the signs of approach.

They’d probably passed around a third of the camp before Dean spoke.

“So… Jeremy, huh?”

Cas shrugged, “Among others.”

Dean scoffed, “Are you trying to sleep with everyone in camp?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dean. Not everyone wants my ‘sloppy seconds’.” He still used fingerquotes sometimes. Partially because it had become a habit, partially because Dean used to find it funny.

Dean grunted at that, flushing slightly, which was honestly more of a reaction than he’d had to pretty much anything in a while.

“Why are we out here anyway?” Cas asked, and it was only a slight complaint, more curiosity than anything. “Everyone smart knows to stay in the camp and everyone who leaves goes with a gun.”

“We’ve got kids back there, Cas. Teenagers. They might be smart but they’re also idiots. They sneak out sometimes, dare each other to scale the walls, have parties a little way out.”

“So why not stop them?”

Dean huffed, “Because they’re kids growin’ up in this shithole of a world. I couldn’t stop them even if I wanted to and God knows they deserve to kick back every once in a while, might as well keep them as safe as we can.”

And there it was, the reason that Cas hadn’t swallowed a full bottle of pills and let it end on a literal high. A glimpse of the old Dean, the one that still cared about people, the barest hint of compassion. It was stupid how a bare few seconds of something other than anger could renew Cas’ will to live but whatever. It was enough because it had to be.

“Yes,” he said. “I agree.”

“Besides,” Dean continued as though Cas hadn’t spoken, his voice taking on a sharper tone. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you sneaking out sometimes too. At least the kids go in a group.”

“I miss the stars.” He confessed, his usual guards lowered by the appearance of what Sam used to call ‘Mother Hen Dean’.

“You can see the starts in camp,” Dean said, though less harshly than he could have. Then he lifted the walkie talkie to his mouth and pushed the button, they must have hit the halfway mark while Cas wasn’t paying attention. “Risa, Burrows, any sign of ’em?”

There was a small crackle of static and then:

“Negative.”

“Not yet, Commander.”

Cas waited until Dean clipped the walkie back to his belt before continuing, suddenly desperate to make Dean understand.

“It’s not seeing the stars that I miss. I miss hearing them, being able to fly among them, being a part of them.”

Dean glanced his way, looking a little disconcerted by his honesty.

“Stars make sound? Isn’t space a vacuum?”

“Not to an angel.”

Dean considered that for a moment, then his eyes flicked to something behind Cas.

“Cas, look-” He started to yell, but the croat was already on him and Cas was on the ground, his head spinning with the too-quick movement and the lingering sluggishness of whatever was still in his system. Then, there was rotten breath on his face and teeth gnashing inches from his nose and he regained his wits long enough to get his hands on the thing’s throat and push it away with all the meagre strength his human (only) form was capable of. One of its filthy, ragged nails raked across his cheek and he yelled, before his hearing whited out in a blast from Dean’s shotgun that took the croat’s head off. Thick blood splattered Cas’ face and shirt and he pushed the thing off and scrambled to his feet, scooping up his own gun and firing at another croat that had just emerged from the trees. He hit it between the eyes and it dropped. Cas had been a warrior for millennia after all, he had excellent aim, even when using human weaponry and possibly a little concussed.

The commotion had apparently attracted more croats though, and it might take a few minutes for Burrows’ team to find them in the brush. Dean whirled around, firing shot after shot with deadly accuracy and Cas followed suit.

Dropping bodies next to Dean everything else fell away: the drudgery of their day-to-day, their struggle for survival, the constant ache between his shoulder blades, none of it mattered because this was where he belonged.

And then Burrows arrived and a few seconds later Risa did too. Together they dispatched the croats from a safe(ish) distance, picking them off as they came into view. Soon there were none left.

Cas spun around to face Dean, grin splitting his face. This was a high in and of itself. It had been so long since he’d been in a battle, fought at Dean’s side, had any kind of purpose that he’d completely forgotten about reality until his eyes landed on Dean’s bloodless face.

“What?” Cas asked, glancing around, counting the soldiers, the bodies. They hadn’t lost anyone as near as he could tell, this was a victory. There was an amount of awkward shuffling and glances away before Cas remembered and then he laughed, gesturing to his cut cheek, which had almost certainly come into contact with some of that first croat’s infected blood. “Oh, I get it. Now is the part where you kill me.”

Dean’s expression twisted into something ugly and painful, then he glanced towards the others, who were watching the two of them with wide eyes.

“Go back to camp.”

“We can’t just leave you out here alone.” Risa said at once, always practical, though she didn’t suggest Dean go back to camp and let them take care of the issue.

“I said go!” Dean repeated, his voice half a growl, half a shout.

Burrows took Risa’s arm and whispered something, then he addressed Dean, “Radio if you need us,” he said. Gesturing for the others to follow as he started walking back in the direction of the camp. One by one the soldiers followed, some hesitating, as though they wanted to say something, goodbyes perhaps? Cas had slept with half of them after all, maybe they felt they owed him something. He waved.

“Bye.”

When it was just the two of them and a dozen or so dead croats, Cas raised his gun. “You know, I can do this myself if you don’t want-”

“Don’t you dare,” Dean growled, striding over to snatch his gun. “We don’t know you’re infected yet.”

“Blood to blood contact is how it’s spread, Dean.” Cas said calmly, wiping his face on his (just as stained) sleeve, though the damage was already done. “I think we can be pretty sure.”

“Well I’m not risking it.”

“It’s more of a risk if I go back to camp.”

“Which is why we’re not going back,” Dean insisted. “We’re waiting this out. Five, six hours and then we’ll know.”

“You don’t have to stay and watch me turn feral,” Cas argued. “In fact, I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Well tough shit.” And with that, Dean turned his back and began to march further into the woods. Cas hurried to follow (because of course he did, why break the habit now?) but Dean didn’t go far, just until they were out of sight (and smell) of the corpses they left behind. Then he leaned against a tree and eyed Cas over. “What do stars sound like anyway?”

Cas smiled. “Like the striking of a match, like a windchime in a hurricane, like ice beginning to crack on a frozen lake.”

“Sounds distracting.”

“I learned to tune it out. But it was nice to have the option, you know?”

“Yeah.” Dean said, staring at Cas like he wasn’t talking about stars. “You goddamn idiot.”

Cas shrugged, rolling with the shift in topic easily. “It was inevitable really, I’m not what I used to be.”

“You don’t care, do you? You might be dead in six hours and you don’t even care.”

“Why should I?”

“Jesus, Cas!”

“I’m no use to anyone. I’m no role model, I’m no leader, I can’t heal and I’m not even a good soldier anymore. I provide nothing and I’m a detriment to the group, a waste of resources. You should look at this as a problem solved.”

“Wow. Fuck you.”

“One last time?” Cas grinned wryly. “I’d love to, Dean, but we probably shouldn’t risk it. Blood might be the main contaminant but we haven’t tested it with semen so-”

“Shut up!” Dean yelled, his hand raising to rake through his hair. “Stop fucking talking like that!”

Cas blinked.

“I’m just trying to be practical.”

“Yeah, well, don’t. This is your life, Cas, stop talking about it like it doesn’t matter!”

It doesn’t. He bit the words back. Instead he raised his hands in surrender and sat down on a fallen log, soft with rot.

“So what, you’re just going to stay with me until I start displaying symptoms?” He tried to keep the hope out of his voice. Selfish it may be but he wanted the last thing he saw to be Dean’s eyes.

“You’re damn straight.” Dean said. “If the virus takes hold you wouldn’t be able to do it. And-” he hesitated, “and if I left you alone then you could go wandering back to camp and convince the guard to let you in after so long, infected or not.” He finished, though Cas had a suspicion that that hadn’t been what Dean was going to say.

“True.” He replied mildly.

Dean gave a gruff nod and leaned more heavily against the tree. They were silent for a while, listening to the sound of birds, the faint wind, the scurrying of small rodents. It was pleasant, more pleasant than it probably should be but Cas felt more at peace with himself now than he had on any number of pills. It was ending. It was over. He was finally done. It was more freeing than he’d expected.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, an apology he’d held in for far too long, “I’m sorry that I couldn’t save Sam.”

He remembered the anguished silence when he’d delivered the news, the resulting anger, the punch he hadn’t had the capacity to feel. He remembered feeling hopeless as he watched Dean shatter in slow motion, knowing that if he had the ability to change such a major event he would have given every speck of his grace to make it happen and also knowing that it wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference.

“I’m not doing this now,” Dean said, his voice wavering on the edge of dangerous, a glint of something dark in his eye.

“Now’s sort of the only time I’ve got.”

“Then I’m not doing this, period. I won’t do deathbed confessions here. You might not even be infected, you don’t get last rites yet. We’ve got at least three hours before any of that shit becomes relevant so until then, I’m not doing this. Clear?”

“Fine. What about this weather then? A little cold for August, don’t you think?”

“Cas...” Dean warned.

“What? You don’t want to talk about anything real and I don’t want to spend the last few hours of my life listening to that little huffy thing you do when you’re pissed at me.”

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face and Cas rolled his eyes at the sound of the aforementioned ‘huffy thing’.

“Stop rolling your eyes, I can hear it.”

“Oh really? What do rolling eyes sound like?” Cas teased. He probably shouldn’t find amusement in Dean’s irritation but he was dying so he figured he got a pass.

“Like an annoying asshole sitting three feet away from you.”

“That’s not a sound either, Dean.”

“Shut up.”

***

Three and a half hours later and things were much the same, except Dean now sat on the log and Cas was cross-legged on the ground, doodling nonsense patterns in the mud with a stick. He still hadn’t begun to show any symptoms of the croatoan virus taking hold and he was beginning to get bored; jittery too, he wished he’d brought even a joint with him but the whole mission was supposed to take less than two hours so he hadn’t bothered.

He sighed and used the stick to wipe away his current drawing.

“Having fun there?”

“I’m ecstatic,” Cas deadpanned back. “Are you going to shoot me yet?”

“No.”

***

Four hours and ten minutes in and now Dean was starting to get antsy; he kept checking his watch and looking at Cas and opening his mouth like he really wanted to say something but kept changing his mind last second.

“Just spit it out, Dean.” Cas said after the sixth time this happened.

Dean glared at him for the call-out but took a deep breath anyway, and he wouldn’t quite meet Cas’ eyes as he spoke.

“So it looks like we’re getting into the end of it now but just in case… are there any messages you want me to pass on?”

Cas blinked at him stupidly for a moment, “You’d do that?”

Dean shrugged, feigning casual, “I mean, not if you’re gonna start waxing poetic and shit but, you know,  if you’ve got an idea for a will or whatever.”

Cas snorted, “Sure. I bequeath all my toilet paper to Chuck and I’ve got a stash of oxy taped behind the headboard which I’m sure Frank would like back.”

“Okay, if you’re not going to take this seriously-”

“Dean, come on, I know the drill here. I’ll be burned, my cabin will be given to someone else, my stuff will be divided up as most benefits the camp and as my closest friend you get dibs on anything of sentimental value, what else is there?”

“Fine,” Dean spat venomously. “All your crap can burn with you, I don’t want any of it.”

Cas shrugged and looked away, unprepared for the sting that lanced through him at the words; not that he had much Dean would want, a ragged old coat and a few creased polaroids. “I guess that’s up to you.”

***

Another three and a half hours passed in tense silence before Dean finally stood from the log. It was well past noon now and Cas’ stomach had been cramping for the past fifteen minutes. He tried to remember the last time he ate, he still forgot that that was something he needed to do now. 

Sunlight speckled the ground with golden spotlights and everything looked just that little bit greener in the sun. It was warm enough now that both Dean and Cas had taken off their jackets.

“Right, I’m calling it. It’s been over seven hours and you’ve not tried to eat me. Looks like you got lucky.”

Cas levered himself to his feet using the moss-covered trunk behind him, thoroughly confused. There was no reason he wouldn’t be infected, he had an open wound on his face and had been covered in contaminated blood, he should have succumbed to the disease hours ago.

“Maybe it’s because I used to be an angel,” he guessed, touching the cut on his face. “Vessels often have a faint sense of grace about them even after the angel’s departure.”

“Sure, let’s go with that.” Dean said, completely uninterested now that there was no danger. He was still as tense as a coiled spring though, an air of energy tightly controlled but primed to explode at any second.

“Either way, it saves building a pyre. I daresay the firewood will be of more use in a month or so.”

He said it partially for the reaction, because he knew that Dean needed to be pushed or he’d take his anger out on someone who didn’t deserve it. He also said it because for the past few hours, Dean had been fidgety and quiet, distant and present at the same time. He hadn’t been barking orders or throwing out insults or disgusted looks, he’d been… almost worried and that was far too disconcerting for Cas’ (not as high as he wanted to be) brain to handle right now.

Whatever his reasons for saying it, it worked, Dean was on him in the time he took to blink, one hand pawing beneath his shirt, the other holding his head in place while Dean attacked his mouth, biting and sucking, teeth clacking against teeth. 

Cas allowed himself to be ravaged, craved it even. It still looked like Dean after all, even smelled like him beneath harsh soap of the camp. There was nothing gentle in it, there was nothing gentle in Dean anymore, but it made him feel more than all of the careful lovers and all the drugs combined. He welcomed the pain as he kissed back, just as feral, his hands going at once for Dean’s pants, expertly popping the button and pulling down the zip without looking. Dean pressed him back until his spine hit the tree trunk and then he pressed further still, grinding the hardening outline of his cock against Castiel’s.

Cas gasped, his head falling back against the tree with a thunk and Dean took advantage of the opening, latching his teeth onto Cas’ neck and clamping down, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to leave a mark. Cas’s fingers danced upwards, under Dean’s shirt, mapping the firm muscles, the slight jut of his ribs, memorising the shape as he had so long ago, assembling Dean atom by atom until he was whole again. He wished he could do that now.

His questing fingers found a nipple and he pinched, rolling the nub tightly between his fingers. Dean let out a growl and pulled back to spin Cas around, slamming him back into the tree and yanking down his pants.

“Dean,” Cas panted, reaching behind him to pull Dean closer. 

Instead of obliging, Dean took Cas’ hands and placed them on the tree before jerking him back by his hips, pressing bruises into the skin. Cas scrambled for a moment to regain his balance but didn’t protest, ultimately it would probably be more comfortable this way.

He heard a hacking sound as Dean spit on his hand, and then he flinched when that hand wrapped firmly around his cock, beginning to jerk him slow and hard, twisting on every upstroke. He moaned, loud and unashamed, before biting at his own bottom lip, feeling sweat beginning to gather at the base of his neck until a rough tongue licked it away.

Dean nipped at him playfully and then reached his other hand around to tap two fingers against Cas’ lips, his chest warm and solid against the line of Cas’ back.

“Open up.”

Cas obeyed, licking around the digits, trying to cover them with as much saliva as he could, he knew this game well.

Once Dean was satisfied he pulled his fingers free with a wet pop and then, still squeezing Cas’ dick with one hand, wiped them over his own cock, slicking himself up as well as he could in the middle of the woods a hundred feet from camp.

Cas whimpered as he felt the blunt head prod at his hole and winced when Dean began to apply pressure, refocusing on the pleasure from Dean’s hand until he relaxed enough to allow Dean entry. Dean breached him with a grunt, sliding halfway in all at once, pausing there for only a few seconds before beginning to move deeper.

Cas whined, feeling the wind on his skin at the same time as Dean’s cock splitting him open was an overload of sensation and he loved it. Dean’s rhythm on Cas’ cock faltered as he focused his attention on fucking him instead but Cas didn’t mind, he didn’t need it in order to come anyway.

“Fuck.” Dean breathed as he bottomed out, rocking his hips without withdrawing as through trying to push himself deeper still.

“Yes,” Cas agreed. “That does seem to be what we’re doing.”

He could feel the glare on the back of his head.

“Shut up.” Dean said, shifting his hips back only to slam them forward again, nudging against his prostate and making Cas shudder.

“Make me,” he whispered.

So Dean did. He quickly set up a brutal pace and although he didn’t succeed in silencing Cas completely, the force of his thrusts kept knocking the breath from his lungs so that he could no longer form full sentences.

“Yeah, Dean, aah, just like-, yes!”

It was like his blood had been replaced with liquid fire. The lack of any real lube adding a hint of discomfort-on-the-edge-of-pain that made Cas want to scream. He bashed his fist against the trunk and desperately tried to push himself back to meet Dean’s every thrust. It was so good, it was just what he needed, one of Dean’s hands gripping his hip, the other on his shoulder, using him as leverage, using him to chase his own pleasure. Their breathing was ragged and too-loud and Cas was glad of the dense greenery that seemed to soak up all sound, keeping this moment theirs and theirs alone.

Shifting the angle slightly, Dean hit his prostate again and Cas keened, raising his eyes to the sky even as his shaking legs threatened to send him to the ground. His chest heaved, his ass ached, his dick throbbed, but Dean was there, Dean was looking at him, Dean was inside him, Dean was touching him as though he wasn’t something filthy to be avoided.

“Yes,” he urged, feeling that curl of pleasure low in his belly, chasing it with every thrust of Dean’s cock, “So close, Dean. Come on, fuck me.”

Dean grunted and his grip tightened, slamming impossibly harder into him while Cas moaned and whined and pushed back with what little (human) strength he could muster. He was so full, it was so good, his nerves were firing off lightning-

And then he was flying, bliss covered him like a soft blanket and he was among the stars once more, his wings were heavy and comforting on his back, his eyes opened to colours that humans didn’t even have a name for. He was strong and eternal and sure of his purpose and he had Dean, the most brilliant soul ever created, and he would guard him and guide him and love him and be loved in return...

Dean groaned loudly in Cas’ ear as he gave one last thrust and as spilled deep inside of him, plastering himself to Cas’ back for a few seconds while they both rode the aftershocks of their respective orgasms.

And then it was over. Cas hissed when Dean pulled out and then he slumped to the ground, boneless and sore and more frustrated than ever. Tears stung his eyes and he slammed his fist into the tree again, screamed, hit the tree again and again until his knuckles were bloody and he couldn’t breathe through his sobs. It was always the intense orgasms that drew this out of him; for one, glorious moment he had believed again, everything had been beautiful and right and clear. But now the moment was gone and he was back in the mud, just trying to coax air into his uncooperative lungs while Dean watched him impassively, buttoning up his pants.

“Somewhere back along the line you lost your love and I lost your trust,” he said quietly when he’d regained at least a measure of control over his body. He felt empty now, drained. How could sex so good leave him so damn hopeless?

Dean frowned at him. “Are you quoting Springsteen at me?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before taking Cas under the elbow and hauling him to his unsteady feet. He even bent to pull up his pants for him, which had tangled themselves around his ankles.

And it was moments like these that usually brought a spark back to Cas’ life, evidence that the Dean he loved hadn’t been completely eradicated when Sam let the devil in.

But they were only moments, as fleeting as they were uncertain. Neither of them were what they had once been. The most beautiful soul in existence was tarnished and ugly, incapable of love, the emotion that had once come to him so easily, and Castiel, Angel of the Lord, bore that title no longer, unfit to do anything but seek relief in moments, unable to earn back the trust of the Righteous Man that he had squandered when he’d failed Sam.

“Let’s head back, I’m starving.” Dean said, scooping up their jackets and guns and handing Cas’ back to him before turning on his heel and heading back towards camp without a backwards glance.

Cas took a moment to steel himself before following.

Hope, he decided suddenly, was not something worth having. Not in this universe.

If you liked this, please consider buying me a coffee, or send me your own prompt.

[festiive--heart]

The Benefits of Meddling

Ross pesters you about your crush on one Dan Avidan. (Dan/Male!Reader)

(Word Count: 3440)

--/--/--

“You've been trying to flirt with Dan.” It's not a question. You look up from your laptop to see Ross standing in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest. You frown and take out your headphones.

“Come again?”

“You, the person that I am standing in front of right now, have been trying to flirt with Dan.” His expression twists into a frown as he plops down onto the couch next to you and shuts your laptop. “And quite frankly, you've made shit progress so far.”

“Fuck off, dude,” you groan. Ross is right, unfortunately, but that doesn't mean you want him reminding you of the fact. You'd been trying and failing to subtly woo Dan over the past month or so to no avail. You suppose that plain old compliments and cheesy pick-up lines weren't going to cut it from the start, in hindsight. In an environment where everyone is just a little too friendly with each other by default, of course it wouldn't look out of place for you to participate in the antics. There had been more than a few occasions during recording sessions where you and Arin had begun swapping lewder and lewder pick-up lines, all of which had thrown Dan into a laughing fit that made your heart flutter and ruined your ability to speak for the rest of the episode. You set your laptop aside and turn to face Ross fully. “Why do you care, anyway?"

“Hey, not trying to push it or anything,” he says with a shrug, “It's just something I've noticed.”

“And you decided to bring it up to me because…?”

"Because maybe I wanted to help you out?” You raise your eyebrows in surprise.

“Really now? I would've thought that it would be fun for you to see me running around like a headless chicken,” you point out.

“It was fun for awhile, but now it's just kinda sad. So I'm gonna make sure you take Dan on a nice romantic date and that you stop moping around like a hot gay mess,” Ross grins. You put a hand on your chest with a faux shocked expression.

“You… you think I'm hot?” Ross groans and hits you with a nearby pillow as you laugh.

“Scratch that, you're just a mess. Okay, let's get a game plan going,” he says. “Technically you've been more direct than most people would be, but Dan can be dense as a brick when people flirt with him. You need to step up your game.” You heave a sigh and unplug your headphones so you can freely fiddle with the cord.

“I dunno, Ross. Is he even into dudes?” At this, Ross pauses to frown in thought.

“Now that you mention it, I'm not sure. I don't think so?” You throw your hands up in agitation with a scowl.

“Then why are we even bothering with this, man? I'm not following your logic here.” Ross begins grinning all of a sudden, jumping up from the couch with a flourish.

“You know what? Nevermind. I didn't mean to push, so I'll just back off if it makes you feel better,” he says. You blink owlishly at him for a moment. Huh. Wasn't expecting that.

“I, uh… yeah. Good talk, I guess.” Ross gives a thumbs up.

“Good talk!"

You feel a vague sense of dread as you watch him practically skip away.

--/--/--

“Hey, (Y/N)! Just the guy I wanted to see!” You still your hand before your pencil touches the page of your sketchbook with a start. Ross is standing over you again, wearing that same unsettling grin and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“You're looking awfully suspicious right now,” you say slowly.

“Oh, come on! You have no faith in me.”

“I have faith in you, just sometimes more than others. What's up?” Ross is still grinning.

“You busy right now?” You glance down at your empty sketchbook, an indicator of your current lack of motivation to actually draw something, and sigh.

“I guess not.”

“Great! D’ya want to play some games with me, Dan, and Holly?” Ross asks. You twirl the pencil between your fingers and shrug.

“What’re you guys playing?”

“I have no idea. Holly picked it out, but she won't tell us what it is.” He gestures to the recording room. “Says that it's a two versus two though.” You raise your eyebrows at this.

“Sure, I'll try it out. What were you guys thinking for teams?” You ask as you rise from your seat. Ross doesn't answer right away, instead choosing to make a beeline for the recording room and throw the door open. You step inside after him and see that Dan and Holly are already lounging on the couch together, chatting quietly about something. They look up and smile as you and Ross come in.

“Okay, I got Dan’s partner. What are we playing?” Both yours and Dan’s eyebrows raise as Ross firmly plants himself against Holly’s side, his grin just as strong as ever. You already don't like where this is going, but both you and Dan decide not to contest the teams.

“Here, let me start it up really quick. You ready, guys?” Holly offers you a warm smile as she begins passing out controllers to everyone. You find yourself quickly becoming nervous over the prospect of being in such close proximity with Dan in such a small group. He's already curled up onto the couch with a blanket draped over his shoulders and his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. You have to take a moment to keep your composure over seeing how comfortable and cute he looks right now. He sticks an arm out from underneath his blanket and pats the spot on the couch beside him.

“Come on, (Y/N)! Got a nice and cozy spot right here just for you.” His smile is just as soft and warm as he is, and your face heats up as you make your way over and take a seat next to him. You make sure to stay at a respectable distance. Once everyone is settled and has their controllers, Holly starts up the game and begins to explain it as the opening credits fade in. You nod along and inspect the buttons on the controller as each function is explained, then turn to Dan with a determined smile.

“Okay, I'm not super great at shooters, but I think we've got this. We’ve got each other’s backs, yeah?” You ask. Dan nudges your shoulder and settles closer to your side with a quiet cheer.

“Yeah, totally! Just a fair warning, though, it'll take a minute for me to even figure out how to walk,” he laughs. Ross gives you that same goddamn smile that's starting to annoy you for some reason as his character breaks away from Holly’s to begin hunting you down.

“I bet you and Dan are gonna be great together,” he says. Something feels like it’s nagging at the back of your head at that statement, but you can't quite place what it could be.

The next hour or so is spent chasing each other down in various maps with different weapons and power-ups to try and get the most kills. It's a familiar type of play style, something easy to pick up and have mindless fun with. Dan and Holly aren't half bad, but you and Ross have gotten into it with each other by targeting each other’s teammates with reckless abandon. The tense and competitive atmosphere has led Dan to migrate further and further into your side, and at this point he’s practically in your lap. He’s almost constantly giggling and yelping in surprise every time he gets killed, and your focus has begun to wane.

“Aah! (Y/N), help! Holly’s chasing me!” You adjust to your “serious gaming" position by moving to sit closer to the edge of the couch and lean forward, frowning in concentration. You spot Dan’s character attempting to frantically jump and run around in circles as Holly chases him, laughing all the while.

“Hang on a second, I got you,” you chuckle. Dan notices that you’ve moved from your original position on the couch and takes a moment to adjust accordingly. While you attempt to shoot Holly down, Dan wiggles around until he's pressed against your side again. He gets killed by Ross twice before deciding to stretch out on the couch completely with an exaggerated groan. His feet land in Ross’s lap, and his head falls to rest in yours.

“I'm all stressed out now,” Dan says. “I'm gonna find some inner peace, and then we're gonna kick your guy’s asses.” He looks up at you as he waits to respawn with a smile, and you have to fight to keep your face from heating up in embarrassment.

“You comfy there, dude?” You ask, and Dan hums an affirmative.

“Very much so. You’re pretty cozy, you know that? I could probably take a nap right now,” He grins. Your heart is thudding in your chest. Sure, Dan tends to be a bit more on the affectionate side sometimes, but you haven’t really been close to him like this before. It feels so… domestic. It takes a little too long to realize that you’ve been killed at least four times in a row with little difficulty by Ross, and you rub your eyes with a yawn.

“Oh man, I think my eyes are gonna fall out of my skull. You guys mind if I dip out?” You say.

“Honestly, I think we’re all a little tired. Ross and I are going to get some lunch. Do you guys wanna join us?” Holly asks. Dan grumbles something unintelligible as he turns onto his side and burrows himself further into his blanket. You shake your head.

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“Me too,” Dan chimes in. “Think I’m gonna stay here with (Y/N).” Ross turns a particularly energetic grin to you before opening the door for Holly.

“Alright, suit yourselves! Want me to turn out the lights?” he asks.

“Yes please,” comes Dan’s sleepy voice from your lap. “I dunno about you, (Y/N), but I'm taking a nap.” The logical part of your brain tries to come up with a reasonable excuse to let Dan rest on his own and for you to be literally anywhere else, but for some reason you can't think of anything. By the time Ross and Holly have turned off the lights and left the room, Dan had gotten up and lay back down on the other side of the couch, holding his arms open after tossing his glasses to the floor. You turn to look at him with a bewildered expression.

“Are we cuddling or not, dude?” he asks. “It's cold as dicks in here, and this blanket isn't gonna cut it for me.” You're grateful for the fact that the lights are off, otherwise your blush would be much more apparent.

“I, uh… are you sure?” you ask hesitantly.

“Yeah, of course I’m sure! Get over here already.” You take a moment to steel yourself before moving to lie down next to Dan on the couch and hesitantly wrap your arms around him. Dan has himself half draped over you in a matter of seconds, tucking his head onto your shoulder and letting out a happy hum. This can't be happening, you think to yourself . There's no way.

“I was right. You’re just as cozy as you look,” he mumbles. You can feel your heart thudding in your chest as you rest your hands on the small of his back.

“T-thanks. Now shush. No rest is gonna be had if you keep talking.���

“Fine, fine,” Dan laughs. His laughter winds down into a contented sigh as he shifts once more to curl further into you. “G’night, (Y/N).”

“It's like 11, dude.”

“I know what I said.”

You don't know how long you lay there after Dan falls asleep, just reveling in the steadiness of his breathing and the warmth he exudes.

--/--/--

The next couple of weeks are filled with instances of Ross becoming more and more suspicious and of you being unable to keep yourself from constantly thinking about Dan. Napping with him in your arms had been… nice. You'd had to do your best to act normally once you both had woken up, but he seemed just as chipper as ever, as if sleeping in the arms of a friend that just so happened to be another dude was something he did everyday. You're not quite sure how he feels about that day still, and you haven't thought to ask.

After the gaming session that day, Ross had begun inviting you to more and more outings that somehow always ended up with you spending alone time with Dan. First it was a movie that he had been planning on seeing with Dan; something else had come up last minute, though, so he gave you his ticket instead and even offered to give you money for snacks and popcorn.

“Okay, we have to get the large popcorn,” You'd declared. Dan had raised an eyebrow at you with a confused laugh.

“Why?”

“Because, Dan! We need to get that spicy free refill with extra butter. It's just tradition.” You don't know how Ross managed to wrangle Dan into seeing a horror movie with him, but it became apparent that Dan didn't know either by the time his hand was tightly laced in your own and he was leaning into your side for support. You’d spent most of the evening afterward cleaning your apartment with the radio on full blast to try and drown out your thoughts.

After the movie fiasco came another instance where you, Ross, and Dan were slated to record some episodes together. Arin had ended up calling Ross to work on another project last minute, which left you and Dan to record the episodes by yourselves. You don't think you've laughed that hard in your life, and it was an absolute delight to make Dan laugh just as much in turn. There had also been an insane amount of flirting that you hadn’t expected, and you’re not sure whether or not any of it was actually genuine. You know you were being serious, but ending the session left a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach and the urge to do something more. It had been somewhat depressing to realize that what was originally a small and frivolous crush on Dan had turned into something much more intense and consuming. You most certainly knew how to feel about that discovery.

--/--/--

You’re almost finished getting ready to go home for the night when Ross decides to corner you.

“(Y/N)! Glad I caught you before you left!” he chirps. He looks just as chipper as usual, with that same glint in his eyes that almost makes you want to punch him now.

“What’s up, man?” You ask as you pull your jacket on.

“I was just wondering how things with Dan were going.” You almost get your arm stuck in a sleeve as you try to hurry and put your jacket on faster.

“Things are fine,” you respond curtly. “We’ve been hanging out more lately because of you, but that’s about it.” You grab your keys from your desk and pat your pockets to make sure you’re not forgetting anything. Ross frowns.

“What do you mean, that’s it? You guys were flirting a ton in the episodes you recorded last week!”

“That doesn't even matter! It was all for shits and giggles to him, and I still don’t even fucking know if he’s into dudes!” You snap. “So unless you can bring me something that tells me otherwise, then I'm just gonna sit here with my useless fucking mess of a gay crush and be done with it.” Without waiting to hear a response from Ross, you push past him and out of the office to go home.

You can't sleep that night.

--/--/--

“Hey, (Y/N)! How’s it going?” You resist the urge to let out a loud groan as Dan approaches your desk with a wave. You’re tired beyond belief after not being able to get any sleep from the night before, and you don't have the energy to deal with anyone right now.

“I'm… alright, I guess,” You reply. “What about you?”

“Same, actually.” He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a loud sigh. You sit up straighter in your chair at his tone. It seems less energetic than usual, and you notice now that he's wearing his glasses and sporting dark circles under his eyes. You frown.

“What’s up? Is everything okay?” You ask.

“Yeah, don't worry about it. I just haven't been getting much sleep lately,” he says. You take a glance at the tea on your desk, the only true anchor keeping you tied to the world of consciousness at the moment, and set your work down.

“Are you sure? You don't look too great,” you point out. Dan shrugs, reaching up to tug at the ends of the scarf that's tied loosely around his neck.

“Guess I've had a lot on my mind lately,” he eventually replies.

“Hey, let me know if you want to talk about anything, okay? Don't go and lone wolf it if you're feeling depressed,” you say. “It never feels good to be stewing in your own feelings like that."

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” Dan offers you a smile before turning to continue his walk to the recording room. Was… was it just you, or did that smile look almost pained?

You can't focus too much on your work for awhile, even after taking a break and getting something to eat.

--/--/--

“(Y/N), I need to talk to you.” You look up from your laptop to see Dan standing in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest. You frown and take out your headphones.

“What’s up?” He shuffles awkwardly and seems to be making eye contact with everything except you.

“I, uh…” Dan looks around for a moment and seems to just now notice the open space both of you are in. “Can we go somewhere more private?” You nod and close your laptop. He beckons you to follow as he begins making his way to a closed off meeting area. You take seats next to each other on one of the couches, and you wait for Dan to start talking. He looks nervous about something.

“So, I… I talked with Ross recently,” he begins, and you feel your stomach drop. This can't be about…? He heaves a deep sigh, as if to steel himself for whatever it is that he's about to say next.

“He told me that he's been… that he's been trying to set us up together,” Dan rushes out. “Romantically.”

“Romantically.” It's not a question.

“Yeah. And, um… he said that you knew about it? Which I'm honestly kind of hoping for because I was thinking about asking you out anyway?” Dan’s rambling at this point, but you stop short as you fully process what he's saying and feel your heart jump into your throat.

“Dan, I-"

“God, I know it must be weird and gross- you're probably not even- wait, you are.” His eyes widen. “Oh my god, I’m so fucking sorry! I forgot that you were gay!”

“Are you being serious right now?” You blurt out. “I’ve been sitting over here with this… this ridiculous high school crush this whole time! I was just keeping it to myself because I thought you weren't into dudes!” You feel like you're in some kind of weird dream. Dan looks just as bewildered as you feel right now.

“I didn't think I was either!” he exclaims. “All I know is that we started hanging out more, and it was really nice, and- and then I guess you started looking more attractive to me?” Dan looks into the palms of his hands with a frown. “I realized that I was having feelings I haven't had before, and I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to ruin our friendship.”

“It would take a lot for you to ruin our friendship, dude.” You offer Dan a warm smile. “So, uh… now that it's been established we're two dudes that happen to have some gay romantic feelings for each other, do you want to have dinner sometime?” Dan laughs.

“You know what? That sounds amazing.”

You make a mental note to thank Ross later.

[haleylbeasley]

Your Hands Pt. 2

11/19/17

From sophomore year. 

 I am leaning over the balcony of my apartment complex, contemplating whether or not my ex just heard the underhanded remark that I made at his expense.  You drive up and unfold yourself drunkenly out of your car. Hands over feet like you are running as fast as you can from the red plastic cups and beer cans spilling from the seat behind you. You see me, and I can’t crouch into the shadow of a potted plant fast enough.

2 Weeks Back Heartbreak leads to stupid things, like dating apps. My brain can’t catch up with the speed my fingers are swiping. We “match.” You take that phrase literally. As if we fit together. As if those times in high school when you tossed half-eaten sandwiches at me in the lunchroom were just a prelude to a “meant to be.” Or a “meant to fuck.” Whatever. You say “I never expected you to end up looking like this.” You say “Remember when you were ugly and fat?” I say “As fun as this has been reminiscing about my past traumatic childhood experiences, this isn’t going to work out.” Deletes said dating app.

You are here to meet a friend. But you’ve caught me instead. You run to the balcony where I am trying my best to blend into the concrete floors. You grab my waist. “Come on, it’s just a hug.”

It’s just you and me. I feel your hands on my hip. On my thighs. Under my shirt. Your fingertips leave phantom impressions along my body so I never forget where you once were. Your hands snap the elastic of my leggings.  You’re behind me. Forcing me against the rail. And as if to show the midnight air that you have claimed the “prized pig,” you thrust your hands into my underwear. Curve your fingers up and burrow into me.  You treat my body as if I am your new found home.  Easily accessible from the street, utilities included, no deposit needed. You have never felt more comfortable than you do right now, smothered in my unwilling warmth.  You reach further into me like I am a broken vending machine that you just paid $1.25 so goddammit you’re going to get your Cherry Coke.

I am frozen, but you are just warming up. Five minutes in and I start to feel the wet stickiness of your cum on my backside because in “the heat of the moment” I didn’t realize that you were clutching yourself in order to mark your territory. You kiss me on the neck and leave.

How far is it from my balcony to the ground? Would I die if I jumped, or just break a leg or an arm? I would even take a broken toe at this point.  I retrace the steps that your fingers took and realize that I have blood running down my legs.