#HEATED debate at my kitchen table right now between my dad

[katesattic]

I see the transphobia’s in full swing tonight.

[lillypad910]

Making Our Home Part 2

Picks up where Part 1 left off!

Part 1

Open to writing more if requested but right now this is the end of this story. If you have any ideas on how to extend it (even just oneshots) request it and I’ll take a look! I might continue this someday, but for right now this is all for Billy and this reader.

Uses (y/n) because I hate “x readers” that are actually OCs

Word Count: 7,033 (this is all I’ve had written for this story so far, but I’m not planning on stopping it, I plan to keep writing but it won’t be as quick of a post (obviously) so do stay around if you enjoy it. If you have suggestions for what the characters should go through send me a request!

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! smut, cnc, unprotected sex, protected sex, swearing, violence, blood, abusive parents (both reader’s parents and Billy’s dad), “cheating” (Billy and reader aren’t actually dating), Billy is a jerk BUT character growth (Billy gets better I promise, so does Reader’s dad I definitely projected my own daddy issues, so I apologize in advance), pet names (Doll, Daddy (only once for tease), slut, whore)

Summary:

A/N: This is part two of the story I’ve been working on for over a year now, and I think I finally got it to where I’m comfortable to share. This part has way more smut so be prepared, part one was CHILL in comparison (When did this become a WHORE HOUSE!?)

Walking downstairs in your pjs the next morning, you catch your mom angrily walking out of the house. The front door slams making you flinch. You wander into the kitchen only to see your dad at the counter. “Good morning, Pumpkin.” He greets you with a smile. “I think your mom was mad to see me, you know, awake.” He glances at the door. You stare at him, shocked he’s there. “I’m making pancakes, wanna help?” You blink for a moment, before slowly nodding your head. He hands you the spatula.

You flip the pancake and move it to the plate when it’s finished, slapping a chunk of butter on top after dipping out another onto the pan. “Good morning, sleepy head.” You hear your dad’s voice chirp. You turn around to see Penny stepping into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes with a fist and holding her stuffed bear under her arm. “Wanna help us make breakfast?” She nods before walking over. He scoops her up onto his hip and asks her to hold the bowl while he whisks eggs.

After breakfast is made, you all sit around the table. “So, I forgot to ask last night, but I wanted to know, seeing any boys?” Your dad asks. You hesitate when grabbing a pancake from the plate in the center of the table. “Um, no,” you mumble, “no, not really.” He glances between you and your little sister, “No? You mean to tell me that my beautiful daughter has no boys wrapped around her finger?” His mouth hangs open, shock plastered across his face. You let yourself giggle and so does Penny.

You debate on telling him about Billy, wondering if he’s worth mentioning to your dad. You’ve been seeing Billy for a while, practically living in his bed now, but you aren’t dating.

“Well…” you start, cutting off a piece of pancake, “there is one guy…” you mumble. Your dad perks up, if he was a dog, his ears would have been up in the air. “Oh?” He raises a brow. “Yeah…” “Who’s the guy?” Your dad asks. You feel your cheeks heat up a bit.

“Um, his name is Billy, Billy Hargrove.” “Hargrove?” “Yeah, uh, his family moved here in October, so… you wouldn’t know him.” You explain. Your dad nods. “Well when do I meet him?” You snap your head up at him and he laughs. “Do I not get to?”

You look down at your food, poking at the eggs on your plate. “I mean… I don’t know. We’re nothing serious.” You express. He squints his eyes at you. “Like flirting?” “Yeah…” you mumble. You know damn well you’ve done more than flirt, but how do you tell your suddenly sober dad you’ve been sleeping with a boy for comfort? You dont.

After sitting on the couch watching Penny’s cartoons all morning, you all crowd into the old truck parked in the garage. You can’t help but feel a blissful joy crowd you as you sit in the one row of the truck, your little sister sitting in the middle while your dad drives.

You pull into the diner and all hop out. You walk in and immediately slid into a seat by the window. Your old seat.

Neil Hargrove pulls the car into the parking lot, a sigh leaving him. He steps out of the car, followed by Susan and Max. Billy takes a deep breath before stepping out of the car. “Go grab us a table, will you?” Neil asks his wife, who nods and throws her arm around her daughter, taking her into the diner. Neil waits for them to go into the door, before turning and shoving Billy against the side of the car.

“I better not hear any sort of disrespect come from your mouth today. Got it?” He snares at Billy. “No shit talking, no bad mouthing. You better fucking behave.” Billy nods, “Yes sir.” He mumbles, his dad glares at him. “What was that?” He grips tighter around Billy’s collar. Billy takes in a deep breath, “Yes. Sir.” His voice trying hard not to shake. “Good.” His dad pulls away and walks towards the doors.

When Billy steps into the diner he pans the tables, spotting you at a booth with two others. He stares for a moment before turning and walking towards his family. “Billy, isn’t that-“ Max goes to speak, but stops herself when Billy glares at her. He looks over at you, your smile brighter than he’s ever seen. You look genuinely happy.

He recognizes the man across from you. The hair gives him away, being the same color as yours, also helps that he’s seen the guy sprawled out over your couch every damn time he came over.

Neil’s eyes fallow his son’s gaze, landing on you. “Ah, the whore you sleep with every other night? What’s her name? I swear you bring home too many to count.” Billy glares at his dad. “(Y/n),” Susan calmly says with a smile. “She’s nice. I met her in the hall one evening.” Billy felt something pull around his heart for a moment. “She is nice.” Max states.

You chat with your dad for a while, giggling when Penny blows bubbles into her milk. When your dad tries to finally get her to stop in a very calm parental way, you take the moment to look over the diner. You haven’t been here since you were little. The neon lights still hang on the wall, a jukebox sits in the corner, next to the bathroom. Your gaze pans over to a table. Your eyes meet Billy’s and you both quickly look away, you’re shocked to see him there.

Billy glances between his dad and you, his nerves grow in a pit in his stomach. “Billy, for fuck’s sake, pay attention.” His dad growls at him. He stares at his old man, not happy to be here. He keeps glancing at you, your smile lightening up the room. God, what he would do to have you in his bed-

Neil abruptly stands and everyone at the table looks at him. “That’s enough.” He says, staring at his son. Susan glances between the two, not sure what to do. “Neil, honey, sit down.” She tries to smooth things over. “No, he’s gonna be staring at that bitch all afternoon.” Neil walks over to your table, you notice him before your dad does, your heart dropping to the floor.

“Hi,” Neil holds out his hand to your dad, “Neil Hargrove, pleasure.” Your dad looks at you, but you keep your eyes on Neil, threatened by his presence. “(D/n) (l/n), the pleasure is all mine.” Billy slowly stands from their table, he doesn’t wanna push his dad, but he will fucking shatter him if he tries anything.

“I just saw little (y/n) here, and thought, oh, haven’t seen her in a bit, let me go say hi.” Neil chuckles. You glance behind him to Billy, practically begging for him to come get his dad away from yours. Billy steps forward but Susan steps faster, “Neil, let’s just go-” Neil waves her off. “No no, I’m not finished.”

Your dad looks at you confused, his light hearted smile dropping when he sees your worried face. “You know, (y/n), it’s been a while, when was it, yesterday?” His voice is loud, filling up the entire diner. “Neil, seriously, let’s just go.” “How was your night? Better or worst than your last? Honestly I can’t explain how well I slept last night.”

Max stands awkwardly by their table, Billy now steps up, “Dad, can we just go.” He asks, trying to place himself physically in between you and his dad. “No, I’m not fucking finished.” He places his palm on Billy’s chest and shoves him out of the way.

“Slept better with out your moans screaming through the wall-“ before anyone else could react, Billy had his dad pinned against the wall, gripping his jacket tightly in his hands. You stand to your feet, your dad following. “Enough.” Billy’s voice is deep, dripping with anger. “Or fucking what? You’re gonna beat the shit out of me?” Neil glares at his son. “Billy,” your voice calls out to him.

You wanna get out of there, go home and lock yourself in your room. Your perfect Saturday now ruined by Neil Hargrove.

“If you fucking talk shit about her again, I’m gonna fucking kill you.” Billy’s voice stabs through his dad. Susan steps towards you. “I’m so sorry,” she looks over at your dad, “please ignore my husband, he has some… unresolved issues.” Susan smiles softly. You feel ashamed, embarrassed. You wanna just run out as fast as you can. “Susan Hargrove, please I’m so very sorry to interrupt your lunch-“ you squeeze yourself out of you seat and step towards Billy and Neil.

“Will you two please stop acting like fucking children for once.” You glare at them both. Neil glares back. “Tell this worthless kid to let go of me.” Billy’s grip tightens, but you place your hand on his arm. “Billy, please, not in front of my dad.” You beg. He hesitates, before finally dropping his dad.

“Well today has been eventful…” your dad mumbles. You lay your head against Billy’s shoulder, finally relaxing again. A soft thank you leaves your lips.

Sitting in your dad’s truck on the way home was the most awkward car ride you’ve ever done. Your dad was silent, which scared you. You didn’t want him to go home and drink again just because you have a shitty boyfriend- well not boyfriend. When the truck parks, you all pile out and go inside, you go straight upstairs to your room, shutting and locking it. You watch your vision blur as you lay down on your bed.

“Yeah, we all do, Doll.” He leaves the window open by a crack before climbing over the bed and hovering over you. “You looked really happy today, I-“ he hesitates, “I’m sorry he ruined your lunch.” You stare up at him, shocked to hear the word sorry leave him.

Billy never apologizes for anything. At least not in words. Billy focuses on action, well more sex. He’s always made it up to you through it.

“Thats the first time you have verbally apologized.” You mumble, a soft smile forming on your lips. “Well, don’t get used to it.” You let yourself giggle before cupping his face and pulling him in to a kiss.

Billy is shocked at first, not used to softer kisses. He angles himself to be on top of you, your legs now placed at his waist as he deepens the kiss. His hand places under your thigh and you let out a soft hum. He moves away from your lips and moves kisses down your jaw and neck.

He’s being so gentle. So kind. You don’t hate it, and you definitely don’t want him to stop.

“Billy…” his name fumbled out of your lips so easily. Billy grinds himself against you, earning a shaky breath to leave you. “Please…” you moan, running your hands through his curly hair.

Billy places his other hand on your back, lowering himself to your collarbone, he leaves soft kisses along your skin. He pulls away to look down at you, to see the mess he’s put you in.

Your face is all flushed, eyes soft, staring back at him with such love. He looks at the skin he’s been kissing, red marks where his lips were placed. “God, Doll. You look so hot.” He leans down again and presses his lips to yours once more. He lifts your shirt and parts just enough to slip the shirt off your form, before smashing his lips back to yours.

Your moans fill his ears, he goes lower, kisses across your chest and shoulders. You shift under him, his hands laying firmly on your hips. “B-Billy, please…” you beg. He knows you want him, but he wants to be gentle this time, make you feel good and loved. He loops his fingers under the hem of your jeans, pulling them down, continuing to place soft kisses over your stomach.

You allow yourself to close your eyes, lingering in his touch. This man had you wrapped around his finger, but you would never admit that.

He leans up, lifting you up off your bed. You wrap your left arm around his neck, placing your right hand on his cheek. You kiss his other cheek before leaving a trail down his neck. He unhooks your bra and leans you back down. He pulls it off before placing soft kisses along your breasts.

You whimper under him, just wanting him to burry himself in you. “Billy…” your voice is soft, mesmerizing by him. “Patience, Doll. I’m not finished yet.” He places a line of kisses down your stomach.

You arch your back to try pressing your body more into him, just craving his touch more. Billy pulls down your underwear, before placing soft kisses along your inner thigh.

You mumble small curse words under your breath, not used to this kind of treatment. You sit up abruptly, reaching for his face, and he lets you pull him back up to yours. “Billy, please. I need you.” You beg.

He smirks and unbuckles his belt before pulling down his pants. He follows them up with his boxers. Pressing himself against you, he holds you to his chest, your legs wrapped around his waist. Your hands roam his chest and loosely sling around his neck, bracing yourself for him to get rough.

He pushes in, gentle and slow, leaving you trying to muffle your moans into his shoulder. When he’s fully in, he places a kiss on your forehead. “Just relax, ok?” He mumbles. You nod, snuggling into him. He thrusts slowly at first, but picks up his pace a bit after hearing your whimpers.

It takes everything in him not to fuck you into your mattress, but he holds back, wanting to do this one fucking thing in his life right. “Fuck, (y/n).” His groans are soft, going straight to your ear. You run your fingers through his hair before landing your palm on his cheek, turning his head to you. You place your lips on his, savoring every moment of this.

He kisses you back, trying hard to not buck into you. “Fuck…” he mumbles, gripping at your waist. You grind your hips down into him, “Faster…” you beg. He obliges, picking up speed but not too much. You moan, hiding your face into his neck, a bit of drool slipping out of the corner of your mouth. “Billy, please, harder…” you beg, your legs starting to shake from the slow torture. He places a soft kiss on your forehead before leaning you back onto the bed.

You keep your arms wrapped around his neck, placing your foreheads together. He quickens, now thrusting into you like he normally does. You toss your head back from the pleasure, happy to finally have enough friction.

“Billy, I’m gonna…” you moan as his thrusts become irregular, signaling to you that he’s close. “Let it out, Doll. Don’t hold in.” His voice speaks softly. You don’t, allowing yourself to release, melting into him. He continues to thrust letting you ride your high, until he finishes, spilling into you.

He drops onto you, his full weight practically crushing you. “Billy,” you hesitate before running your hand through his hair. “Billy, you’re crushing me.” You mumble, trying to catch your breath. He sits up, and sits your legs down onto the bed. He stands and puts on his boxers.

Of course. You watch him pull out a cigarette from his pant pocket and lighting it. This man just gently fucked you, but you still don’t get aftercare. You lean your head back into your pillows. “I should probably get back home.” Billy states. You think for a moment before sitting up and staring at him. “You could stay…”

He looks down at you, his eyes meet yours, a soft, kind look stares back at him. He loves that look. “You sure?” He asks. You nod and pull back your covers. He picks up something off the ground before throwing them at you. Your underwear and his shirt now lays in front of you. You slip them both on before crawling into bed. He snuffs out his cigarette before tossing it out your window, climbing into bed with you. You go to lay turned away from him but his arm slips under your head. You turn around to glance at him and he gestures for you to turn fully.

You do so, laying your head into his chest, his other arm lays over your waist, his thumb rubbing circles into your side. “Goodnight, Billy…” you mumble looking up at him. He leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips. “Goodnight, Doll.”

You wake up to your bed empty. You sigh, your arm slings over to the spot Billy was laying just a couple hours ago. You glance at your window, seeing the moon swap through your sheer curtains. You shove your face into the pillow he was laying his head on. It still smells like him.

Your door opens and you jump, quickly pulling your blankets up to cover you. You sigh in relief when Billy enters. “What the hell, Billy. You scared the shit out of me.” You breath. He closes the door.

“I just used the fucking bathroom.” “Yeah, well remember my dad is sober, Billy. He’s not just passed out on the couch right now.” “Yeah, your parents bedroom door was open. I just went to the bathroom down the hall.” He whispers. You look over towards the window again, trying to steady your heart beat.

“Hey,” Billy walks over and sits on the bed. “You ok?” He brushes your hair out of your face. You stare at him confused. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” You ask. “You just look off.” He speaks. He gets up and picks up his jeans off the floor. He pulls out his pack of cigarettes and takes one out, lighting it. “Do you really have to smoke in here?” You ask, rolling your eyes at him. “You never cared before.” He leans against your dresser.

“You look pretty in my clothes.” He stares at you, his eyes wander over your body, liking how the fabric of his shirt looks over sized on you. You look down at your form, you like wearing his clothes. It always feels comforting and warm, like home. You hold out your hands at him, making him raise a brow. “What?” “Come here.” You simply state.

Billy stares at you, seriously considering the offer to curl into your form and just let you hold him, to breath in everything about you. He loves the idea, but he also knows it’s out of character for him. He’s not some smitten teenager who just wants to be held. He’s Billy. Billy Hargrove, a man who sleeps and flirts with everyone. But you’re different, you’ve always been different, he sees that much now. But he refuses to let you know it, thinking it’ll just go to your head.

He lets out a light hearted chuckle. “What, so I’m your boyfriend now?” You lower your arms back into your lap and look at them, fumbling with your fingers. The wall was back up. “You don’t have to be rude.” You tell him. He scoffs, “Well maybe you should think before trying to coddle me. I’m not a fucking child.” He glares at you. You feel your eyes water, you lay back down in your bed, turning to have your back facing him. “Fuck off, Billy.” You pull the covers over you, shoving your cheek into the pillow.

Trying to steady your breathing, you lay silent in your bed, tears slowly blinking out of your eyes. You hated when he’s like this, all defensive. It pisses you off. You try to open up to him, try to get him to open up, even just once, and he reverts, crawling back into his barricades.

Billy stares at your form, your curves just visible under the comforter on your bed. He doesn’t know how to accept love, how to just lean into you and let you love on him. He lives for your touch but he refuses to lean into it. He sighs, flicking the sizzled out cigarette bud out your window before picking up his clothes from the floor. He pulls up his pants. “I’m heading out.” He simply states, buckling his belt. “Keep the god damn shirt.” He steps out of your window and leaves.

Billy looks back up at your window one final time, before walking back to his car he parked down the road, before driving himself home.

The following day goes pretty well, staying home and spending time with your sister, playing with her and watching movies. Your dad actually signs himself up for rehab, says he’s gonna give up alcohol. You want to believe him, you know he’s at least gonna try, but you won’t get your hopes up.

He doesn’t push you to talk about yesterday, doesn’t ask about it at all, actually. You think he knows you don’t want to talk about it.

As the day closes out, your dad finally sits you down in your room. You know it’s gonna come, you know he’s gonna ask, you know it’s bothering him. “So, Billy…” he glances at you. You look away not wanting to meet his gaze, letting a soft laugh escape you. “Damn, thought I was safe.” He chuckles at you. “I’m not gonna pry, I don’t wanna do that. You’re a grown up, but you’re still my little girl too. If you wanna talk about it, we can, but we don’t have to. Just know I’m here.” He pats his hand on your knee and you nod.

“Hey,” you look up at him, catching his eyes, “Would you…” he hesitates, “look, I know I’ve been a shitty dad for a while, but I really wanna try to be better. So I’m gonna ask you for your opinion on something.” You nod at him, gesturing him to continue. “I’m gonna divorce your mom.” Your eyes light up.

You hate your mom, all she’s been is trouble for your family since day one. The whole reason your dad started drinking in the first place.

“I wanna take her to court, try to fight for custody over Penny.” He explains. He watches your facial expressions carefully. “Do you think that’s a good idea? I don’t wanna cause any more pain for you girls.” “Yeah,” you say, “I think you should, I mean,” you let out a soft chuckle, “you know I hate her, and I’ll stand up for you in court. She can’t argue for me, I’m already 17.“

He presses his lips together, forming a fine line, “Yeah, but Penny isn’t, so I’m gonna need some help there.” “Like what? I mean, Dad, you’ve already gotten a better resume than mom does just in the last two days.” You raise your hand and move it around as you speak, “you stopped drinking on your own, signed up for rehab to get help in order to stay sober, you’re gonna start looking for a job tomorrow. You aren’t the person who broke our family, Dad. She is.” You tell him. He nods.

“I just know it’s gonna be a hard win, but I wanted to make sure you know I’m trying. That I want to do better. And I want you to help stay up on me, watch me, make sure I’m staying sober, no beer in the house.” He smiles at you, and you smile back. “I’ve failed enough as a dad, so I wanna do better.” You nod and he holds out his arms to you, “now come here, Pumpkin.”

After a long hug, he lets you crawl into bed and tucks you in, kissing your forehead as though you were only a child again. You don’t mind, happy to be receiving affection again.

You wake up on Monday, feeling oddly refreshed. You get dressed in your usual clothes, before going downstairs and popping some bread into the toaster. Your dad comes downstairs, freshly showered and dressed, greeting you with a smile. “Good morning, Sunshine!” He pulls your head to him, kissing your forehead. “Did you sleep alright?” He asks, putting on a pot of coffee.

“Yeah, I did actually. Probably better than I have for a while.” You admit. He smiles and ruffles your freshly neatened hair, but you don’t mind. “Well, that’s good.” He smiles.

You open your house door to see Billy’s car pulled into your driveway. You take a deep sigh and climb into his passenger seat.

When you make it to school, you ignore him, walking straight inside. “Hey,” Billy calls out, following after you, “(y/n), hey!” He grips your arm and snatches you to turn to him. “What the hell? I’ve been trying to talk to you all morning?” “I’m not in the mood, Billy.” You explain, rolling your eyes at him.

After a couple of classes, you make your way to the bathroom. You enter the girl’s restroom only to hear grunting and moaning coming from one of the stalls. You roll your eyes, stepping in. You sit your bag down by the door and step into a stall, only to hear the girl speak up. “Fuck, Billy…” you freeze. You’re not dating. Your brain reminds you. You step back out and grab your bag. Before you go to leave however, you decide to be a bit bitchy for a change.

Walking over to the stall you know Billy and who-ever-the-slut is in, you bang your hand against the stall door, hard. Then you walk out, without looking back.

Billy groans at the banging on the stall door, glaring at it. After hearing the main door squeak open and shut again, he can’t focus now. He can’t just get back to fucking the girl around his waist. He drops her to her feet, making her stumble a bit. “Fucking jackass.” He mumbles. “We can just continue, they are gone.” “No, I’ve lost my mood now.” Billy glares at the door, even though he knows no one is there.

At the end of the day, you beat Billy out to his car, leaning against the hood. “Hey, have fun in the bathroom earlier?” You ask him. His eyes darken. “You bitch.” “All I did was bang on a door, you were banging more than that, asshole.” You go to open the door to the passenger side but it was locked. “Billy, unlock the car.” You tell him. You don’t bother looking up at him.

Billy comes around the vehicle to your side. He lifts his hand and grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Remember where you stand, Doll. You’re not my girlfriend.” “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Thanks for the obvious.” You glare at him. He moves his hand swiftly to wrap around your neck, catching you off guard. His fingers tighten around your throat making you flinch. “Billy, stop.” You tell him.

He pushes you against the car, hand firmly placed around your throat. He raises his other hand and points at you. “Don’t you dare get snappy with me again, you hear me? It’s fucking annoying.” His hand tightens and panic and fear sets in to your stomach. Your hand flies up to grip at his wrist. “Billy, stop, that hurts.” You tell him. He lets go and you take in a sharp breath. He unlocks the car and goes back around. You place your fingers against your throat as your vision starts to blur.

You quickly sit into the car and prop your elbow in the door, staring out. “Not gonna talk to me now?” Billy glares at you. You try to hold back as a tear falls down your cheek.

“Hey,” Billy waves his hand in front of you. “Speak.” You hold back your tone. “Just drive me home.” You state. He scoffs. “No please? What did we just talk about, Doll?” “Billy.” You look at him, your tears staining your cheeks. “For fuck’s sake just drive me home. My house.” You glare at him. You watch his eyes soften slightly after seeing that you’re crying. You turn back around and place your forehead against the window.

When Billy drives past your neighborhood, you sigh. “I said my home, Billy. I’m not being your fuck buddy tonight.” You glare at him. “God, you’re so fucking emotional, calm down. You’re not going to be.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re just…” he hesitates before letting out a deep sigh, “I don’t like that you’re mad at me, like more than usual mad. I don’t wanna take you home like that.”

He pulls up into his driveway, you step out of the car and make your way inside going straight to his room. He follows you in, making sure his dad is minding his own fucking business. You enter Billy’s room and throw yourself onto his bed. You weren’t going to let him have you tonight, but that didn’t mean you had to ignore the comfort you felt laying in his bed. Billy sits his things by the door, where you had dropped your bag before hand.

“Comfortable?” He asks. You snuggle into his pillows, which makes him chuckle. You breath in the smell leaving his pillows. You may not wanna fuck him for once, but you do want comfort. A hum leaves you, pure enjoyment. Billy climbs onto the bed, leaning over you. “Doll,” he leans down and places a soft kiss on your neck, making you flinch.

You whip around to look back at him. “I’m sorry.” He whispers, “I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. It was shitty of me.” You stare at him for a moment. “Yeah, it was.” You express. You don’t want to tell him it’s ok, cause it’s not.

“(Y/n),” he raises his hand and places it softly against your cheek, “God, you’re so pretty.” You feel your cheeks heat up. He leans down and presses a kiss on your cheek. You stare at him as he admires you. He hesitates for a moment before leaning down, your breath hitches and you lift your head up to connect your lips. You place your palms against his cheeks, pulling him closer to you.

Billy pushes his hands under you, lifting your back up to arch into him. He pushes up on your shirt, placing his hands on your skin. You move your hands down to his chest and push him off, not hard but just enough to give him the hint. You try to catch your breath as he places his forehead against yours. “Billy,” you mumble, “not tonight. Please.” He sighs, “I know, Doll, I just… wanna kiss you.” He leans into you again, smashing his lips into yours.

You enjoy it, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him as close to you as you can. Billy wraps your legs around his hips, kissing the corner of your mouth before leading across your jaw. “Billy,” You push slightly on his shoulders, he groans, traveling kisses down your neck, “Billy, no…” he leans away only to kiss you again. You hum into his lips. Your heart rate speeds up, he kisses along your cheeks. “Billy…” you mumble. He grinds himself against you, sending shivers down your spin.

“Doll, please I just… I need you.” He groans into your ear. You feel yourself getting warm, but you hold your ground. “Why? That other girl didn’t do it for you?” You mumble. You hear him growl over you. He grabs your wrists and pins them by your head. You stare at him, his hair hangs in front of you, same with his necklace, leaning over you. “Careful, you say you don’t wanna do anything, but you’re being such a tease right now it’s hard not to just fuck the shit out of you.” You lift your head slowly, just brushing your lips to him, a smirk forming on his lips.

“No.” You whisper before dropping back down. He glares at you. He tightens his grip on your wrists, before smashing his lips on yours again. He kisses rougher this time, shoving his tongue into your mouth and swirling it around, making you whimper. He presses a knee to you, earning a soft moan in response. He pulls away and stares at your flushed cheeks, “so easy to say no, isn’t it? But it’s even easier to make you squirm.” He lifts up and climbs off the bed. You catch your breath for a moment just laying there.

You sit up to catch him lighting a cigarette, “Do you wanna stay tonight? Or go home to Daddy?” He asks staring at you through his mirror. You hesitate. You want to stay, to be honest you do want to be fucked now. But you wanna see how much you can push him before he just takes you. You try to think up a clever comeback. “I thought you were Daddy?” You smirk, starring at him. He coughs trying to not choke on smoke.

“Don’t say shit like that when you don’t want me to fuck you.” He explains. “Why? Does it turn you on?” You stand up from his bed, walking over to him and turn him to face you, running your hands up his chest. You hear his breath shake. “Do you want me that badly, Hargrove?” You ask, looking up at him with such an innocent look. He glares at you. “You bitch.” He kisses you again, but this time he grips the hem of your shirt and pulls it up over your head.

He slams you into the mattress, before pulling down your pants and unbuckling his belt. He kisses down your neck, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling himself out. Without any hesitation, he slides your panties to the side and thrusts into you. You moan, gripping his shoulders as he pounds you in. “B-Billy…! Fuck…” your words fumble out of you mouth, followed by “Please, god.” He grinds himself deeper into you, hitting your deepest points.

You hide your face into his neck, embarrassed at how turned on this is making you. He thrusts harder, making a knot form in your stomach. “God, (y/n), fuck.” He grips your hips and moves them to slam you deeper onto him. You feel your drool build up in your mouth as your legs start to shake. You start mumbling to yourself, soft cuss words and pure pleasure mixing in your brain.

He lays you back, not slowing his pace. Your legs drop to the mattress, mind blanking. He takes one of your legs and throws it over his shoulder, the other laying out as your body moves to lay on your side. This new position sends him deeper, your hand flying to cover your mouth and stifle your moans. He watches as he slams into you, “You take me so easily, Doll.” His words make you whimper.

Billy loves watching you squirm as he fucks you. He knows he’s big, filling you up easily, and he loves how you take him so easily. Billy can’t help but want to pound his dick into you until your body is cock drunk on him.

“Fuck, Doll, you’re so tight.” You feel him hit deeper, making your eyes roll back, “Billy…” you moan out, gripping at his bed. “What, Doll? Like the feeling of me hitting you deep?” He goes faster, watching you whimper under him. “God, I could fuck this pussy all fucking day.” He grips at your hips and slams you against him, wanting to get as deep in you as fucking possible. You can’t stop your legs from shaking, the need to cum on him. “Billy, please, I’m gonna…” he flips you over and lifts you so your back leans against his chest. His hand grips around your neck, his cock now making a bulge in your stomach.

You release onto him at the change of position, oozing out around his length, your juices drip down your thighs. You squeeze around him, softly begging for him to not stop. And he doesn’t, slamming up into you as your head leans back on his collarbone. You let your tongue hang out of your mouth, his cock rubbing your walls as you try to come down from you high.

“Doll, I’m gonna fuck you till your sobbing.” He grabs your hair and shoves your face into his pillows, lifting your ass into the air. He continues to fuck you in this position, your eyes tearing up from the feeling of his dick fucking you filthy. Your legs shake, his cock making your pussy raw.

You moan loudly into the pillows, your pussy now burning from all the friction. You gasp as he hits deep into you, and your pussy spasms, encasing his cock in another orgasm. He chuckles. “Such a dirty slut.”

Before you react, he leans against you, burying himself deep in your body. He spills out, holding your hips in place. You try to steady your breathing as your walls clench around him, not wanting him to pull out. “B-Billy…” your voice is like sweet honey to him. He’s fucked you silly and he knows it.

He lifts you back up to his chest and watches your body as the creamy substance leaks from you. “Do you want more, Doll?” Your drooling, saliva dribbling down your chin as you nod. You want him to fuck you. Fuck you hard. Fuck you to where it’s inhumane.

He reaches his hand down and rubs his fingers against you, feeling how full you are with his cock buried in you. “God, you are full, huh, Doll? Do you want more cum?“ you whimper in response.

Billy slams into you again and your body shakes, his arm wrapped around your waist being the only thing holding you upright. You gasp as he starts pumping into you again, your orgasm building quickly. Your legs feel like jelly as you go limp against him, his grip on you tightening to hold you up. “Such a good whore.” His voice is deep and sultry. You can’t help yourself as you finish all over his cock again.

Billy doesn’t stop pounding into you, his cock hitting your deepest places. “B-Billy…!” You grip his arm around your waist as your words become sluggish, inaudible to him. Muffled and slushed “please” and “harder” leaving your lips as he fucks you deeply. You feel yourself building up another orgasm. Your legs trembling as your pussy feels raw.

Billy thrusts up into you roughly a couple more times as you tumble over your finally orgasm of the night, body shaking from the overstimulation. Billy slams deep inside you one final time, his cum shooting deep inside. “Fuck…” he groans as he watches your body shake in his arms. He removes his arm from around your waist and you fall forward, his cock pulling out as your face hits the pillows, ass in the air.

He places his hand on your ass and slowly opens your folds, watching as his cum leaks out of your red and puffy cunt. “You’re filled to the brim, huh, Doll.” It’s not a question but you nod. He slowly runs his hands down your thighs and to your ankles, before pulling and letting your body make full contact with his bed. You hum into the pillow as you feel the mattress dip next to you. You look over as you watch Billy climb into bed.

“Sleep, Doll. You look exhausted.” He kisses a soft peck on your forehead which catches you off guard. You raise your shaky hand to his cheek as he pulls you into his chest. “I love you…” is all you can get out before sleep overcomes you.

In the morning, you wake up to your stomach hurting and your legs still feeling like jello. Billy sleeps soundly next to you, one arm under your neck and the other thrown over your waist. You place your hand on his cheek. “Billy,” you mumble, rubbing your thumb softly over his skin. A soft hum leaves him in response.

He opens his eyes and stares at you, “Morning,” he greets, before laying himself over you and snuggling into your chest. You can’t help but giggle. You glance over at the clock, it’s way past the time for school. “Are we skipping today?” You ask, brushing a hand through his hair. He hums, leaning into your touch.

Your heart soars at the contact he’s accepting from you. “I love you.” The words fumble from your lips before you can even catch yourself. He immediately looks up at you. His stare doesn’t look exactly comfortable. “You don’t have to say it back, Billy. I just want you to know that I do…” you tell him, pulling him into a soft kiss. He groans into your lips, before leaving soft kisses on your neck.

Billy feels relieved you don’t expect him to say it back, he’s comfortable just laying with you.

You stay in bed like that with him for a good hour or so, just enjoying each other’s company. You’re glad. As much as a jerk Billy Hargrove can be, you know deep down you can rely on him. He’s your home, and your his.

[sergiovinazzi]

Stolen - Lando Norris x Reader (Chapter Three)

3.9k words - Rated M (language)

Here it is, my most favourite chapter to date, I hope you enjoy!

You smooth the skirt of your soft, black-linen sundress with shaky hands and pinch the bridge of your nose. You’re regretting not packing anything warmer than the denim jacket currently wrapped around your shoulders when you’re interrupted by the disgruntled sounds of your father calling your name through the phone speaker.

“What?” you ask, exasperated. “Sorry, I got distracted for a second.”

He repeats himself in annoyance, “I said, are you okay with staying at the hotel and ordering dinner for yourself?”

Staring at the restaurant in front of you, you debate whether or not to explain your situation to him. You realise, however, that he probably has enough to worry about after today’s events at Silverstone, and his daughter being out to dinner with another team’s driver probably won’t go over well.

“Yeah,” you lie. “I could use a quiet night in. Will you grab something to eat for yourself on your way back?”

Your dad hums, and you can tell that once he heard the confirmation that he didn’t need to get dinner for you, he lost interest in anything you had to say after the fact. It’s not difficult for you to understand why. Still, the lack of a verbal response worries you and you find it hard to evade the thoughts about Max and the accident. To most, the fact that he got out of the car and could walk was a good sign, but you’re still plagued by the various possibilities of what the hospital tests will conclude and just how bad the damage really is.

“Will you let me know if he’s okay?” you ask quietly, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing the phone closer to your ear, as if you could hone in on the doctor’s discussions in the background to find out whether Max was going to be alright.

Your dad simply hums again. “I’ll text you when we know more, but I’ve gotta go. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye, dad,” you murmur.

His quick Bye, love you is rapidly replaced with the end-of-call dial tone.

You slip the phone into your jacket pocket and take a deep breath, preparing to head inside the restaurant. You couldn’t help but clock the bright orange McLaren already stationed in the parking lot when your Uber arrived. You recognised it from a picture in the article you read when you first learned of Lando’s incident at Wembley. You’re thankful for the sign that he’s already here and you dredge up the remaining ounces of fake confidence left in your body, making an effort to quickly smooth down your hair before you open the door and enter the restaurant.

You’re immediately overwhelmed by the sheer atmosphere of elegance. Hand-painted horizons adorn the walls, encapsulated by swirling silver frames and accentuated by the small lights stationed above each piece of artwork, their job for the night to highlight the colours and shading the artist undoubtedly spent hours perfecting.

The savoury scents of garlic and soy originate in the kitchen and permeate across the premises with ease, challenged only by the rousing aroma of the stunning frangipanis adorning the entrance.

A woman you guess to be around your age approaches you with a notepad and pen in hand. She’s dressed in a black bodycon skirt with a hem that scrapes the top of her knees; her matching coloured button up shirt is tucked in smoothly. “Hi,” she greets with a small smile, “Would you like me to show you to the bar?”

“Oh, I’m actually supposed to be meeting someone here,” you tell her, eyes scanning the room for Lando.

You see him before he sees you.

He’s tucked away at a table in the corner, his brown curls peaking over the top of the large menu he's studying.

“Found him, thanks,” you tell the waitress and she returns to her station as you make your way across the restaurant towards Lando.

He looks up from the menu as your figure appears in his peripherals and he shoots you a wave when you’re a few metres away. You return his gesture with a small laugh and he stands, walking to the front of the table to greet you.

“Hey,” he says, enveloping you in a one-armed hug. “Glad you could make it.”

“Me too. I hope you weren’t waiting long,” you tell him, noticing the almost empty glass of beer in front of him as he returns to his seat.

“It wasn’t too long, don’t worry,” he reassures you.

The reality of the situation fails to present itself to you until you and Lando are seated silently across from one another. Your stomach is tightly wound with nerves but Lando appears just as anxious, noticeably fidgeting in his seat and frequently straightening his knife and fork. He’s dressed rather sharp compared to what you’d been treated to in the past, the blue and orange race suit discarded for a crisp white button down and black dress shorts. You wonder whether the outfit you picked out is suitable for tonight, although you cut yourself some slack. When you’d packed your suitcase on Wednesday, you’d hardly expected to spend any time outside of the Red Bull garage or your hotel room, let alone situated in a restaurant that was, now very obviously, out of your price range. The thought causes you to send a silent prayer to whoever would listen that you had enough in your spending account to pay your half of the final bill tonight.

The woman who greeted you earlier approaches the table to ask what drinks the two of you would like to order.

Lando asks for a cola and you look at him in confusion.

“You’re not going to have another one?” you ask him as he hands over his empty beer glass.

“No, I’m not a big drinker,” he replies, “Especially not during the season.”

“So why did you invite me to have drinks then?” you ask, clearly amused. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Lando Norris?”

He laughs, and raises his hands in mock surrender, “Hey! No, nothing like that. I just don’t really drink, I never have.”

“Yeah I kinda noticed that actually,” you tell him. “Even on your podiums you don’t drink the champagne.”

“I thought you didn’t watch Formula 1?”

You wish you could wipe the stupid smirk off of his face as you practically watch the realisation form in his head. “Have you been watching my old races?”

“No,” you retort somewhat unconvincingly. “I found some highlights on YouTube though, and your podiums from Spielberg and Imola were on there.”

“My podium finish in Monaco is pretty good too. I’d be happy to show it to you sometime, though, it’s a shame that you find racing so boring.”

You roll your eyes and laugh. “Shut up.”

The warm glow emitting from the industrial-style bulbs resting overhead doesn’t help the blush settling on your cheeks, and neither does the grin Lando shoots you. You shrug off your jacket and place it carefully on the back of your seat just as the waitress arrives with your freshly poured Caiproska. You thank her and trace your fingers along the cool side of the glass, collecting the droplets of condensation that form in hopes that they’ll provide some sort of relief from your keen fever.

Lando’s gaze is strong enough that you feel him watching you without having to look across at him, it transcends the need for observed confirmation and instead sets your body alight merely at the thought of it. The thrum of your heart threatens to escape the confines of your chest and you stupidly pray that he doesn’t hear it as the exposed skin of your chest flushes scarlet against the dark neckline of your dress. You clasp the charm that sits at your throat, pinching it between your fingers and allowing yourself to bask in the minimal relief the cold metal provides against your warm skin.

Lando wipes his sweaty palms on his shorts and takes a deep breath. “So, that was a pretty crazy race today, huh? I didn’t think I’d be able to hold onto fourth place, not with another Ferrari behind me and Daniel.”

“Yeah, it was crazy,” is all you can reply before delving back into your pocket at what you think is the sound of your phone receiving a message.

God, he thinks, he’s boring you half to death. He finally has you all to himself and the only topic he can string more than a few words together for is his job, treating you like a reporter he’s obligated to unpack his strategy for in the paddock. He doesn’t understand why he’s so fucking nervous tonight, he wasn’t nearly this wound up when he’d asked you out. Sure, it was an effort to keep his hands from shaking as he locked his car and crossed the parking lot, but he convinced himself it was just the gentle breeze passing through the city that set his flesh alight with goosebumps. He was simply excited, more than anything, to spend some one-on-one time with someone his own age, and if that someone happened to be a pretty girl, who could blame him for looking forward to it?

But then you showed up in that dress and suddenly the possibility that he’d see you out of it by the end of the night if he played his cards right became more and more realistic. His head spins at the thought of taking you home tonight. And the next night. And suddenly the thought is replaced by the images of himself coming home to you every night. After months overseas with nothing but timezone-dependent calls he returns to the comfort of your embrace, it’s your fingers that gently scrape the back of his neck as a confirmation that he’s home. It’s the warmth of your body and the lilt of no one else’s voice that cures the cavity in his chest that enveloped him the moment he shut the apartment door behind him all those weeks ago. He sees you seated on his kitchen counter, legs swinging as the coffee brews each morning, and asleep on his couch every night even after you’d promised if he let you pick the movie you’d stay awake this time.

He knows he’s in way over his head. He only just met you, what, three days ago? Yet here he sits, wishing there was some magic rule book that could explain how he could make sure his time with you never ends. He wishes he’d met you long before this week –honestly, it feels like he’s known you for much longer–so that the heat that rises underneath his shirt and the lump in his throat doesn't lend itself to the idea that he’s just some lust-fuelled boy. Your text messages make him laugh like no one else’s have before and the thought that you were watching him this afternoon, after you weren’t initially planning to stay for the race, had him feeling more confident than he has all season.

He knows he can’t tell you all that, it’s way too soon and you’ll think he’s crazy. He has to think of something interesting to talk to you about to fill the minutes before he feels it appropriate to ask you out for a second time, but instead he sits in silence as you refuse to meet his gaze. Your eyes won’t stop lingering on your phone screen, or darting around the restaurant, undoubtedly searching for distractions. Signs on the wall you could read to pass the time until the check comes, or maybe you’re searching for a saviour, a bartender to lock eyes with who’ll answer your silent plea: get me the hell out of here. He’s caught off guard when your eyes make their way back to him, his heart skips a singular beat like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He’s preparing himself to appear nonchalant in response to the immaculately crafted excuse you’re undoubtedly about to deliver in order to explain your sudden escape from his company, when a small smile forms on your lips instead.

He smiles back.

“Sorry,” he explains. “I know I talk a lot about racing. It’s kind of my whole life at the moment so it’s easy for me to get carried away.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m kind of used to it anyway. It’s basically all we talk about at the dinner table when my dad’s home.”

“Well, what do you like to talk about? I saw on your Instagram that you’re studying advertising, tell me something about that.”

You smile at his consideration and tell him all about your degree. How you’ve always had an interest in design and noticed how it could be used to turn a profit, right from when you would try your hand at creating the posters for your school’s bake sales and car washes. You tell him the story of your first paid commission for a digital advertisement, an intricately crafted Instagram post for an up-and-coming clothing boutique based in London. He asks questions in all the right places and offers his congratulations when you show him screenshots of some of your most successful work.

Conversation ebbs and flows easily throughout the night, the nerves that had you second guessing your decision to come earlier tonight eradicated. The food is tremendous, and your company even better. Your waitress returns with the final bill for the night and Lando hands his card over without hesitation.

“Hey, no,” you say. “Let me pay for my half.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells you. “This was my way of repaying you for bringing my watch back, remember?”

Oh. That’s all tonight was for. He felt obligated to spend money on you in return for the trouble you’d gone through to return his stolen timepiece to him.

“When I talked to the police they said they could get me the money back once the guy was caught,” you stress. “So, you don’t need to do that.”

He brushes your statement off with a wave of his hand and smiles when the waitress returns with his card and a receipt.

Your mind mistakes the reverberation of champagne flutes clinking together for the chime of your text tone and you instinctively reach into your purse, hoping to see the screen alight with good news. You’d settle for any news really, so long as it meant you would finally get a clear picture of what was going on, and you could stop embellishing the details of the worst case scenario you had designed in your head.

A 51G impact like the one you had witnessed today can do a lot of damage to the body, whether visible from the outside or not, and you hoped, more than anything, that the helmet and halo were enough to protect Max from anything more than a few minor scrapes and bruises.

You’re lost in a world of nightmarish outcomes until you remember where you are. Lando’s face is contorted in a concerned frown across from you.

“Everything alright?” he asks gently.

“Yeah, sorry, I thought I heard my phone go off but it must’ve been something else.”

“It’s getting pretty noisy in here, do you want to head outside?” he offers.

“Okay.”

———

In the slight summer breeze you observe the moonlight washing across Lando’s figure, illuminating his features softly and elucidating the closeness of his face to yours. The proximity allows you to easily breathe in the pleasant cedarwood undertones of the cologne that adorns his skin, and allows him to imagine the sweet ropy flavour undoubtedly lingering on your tongue from the maraschino cherries you’d so delicately placed between your teeth throughout night.

The crinkles that form at the edges of his eyes as he meets your gaze with a smile are priceless. You wish you could bottle the feeling they give you and save it for a day you need it most.

“I had a nice time,” he tells you, practically beaming. “I can’t remember the last time I went out after a race and talked about stuff other than racing.”

“Yeah it was nice, dinner was really good too.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you stand in silence while you wait for your Uber to arrive. Lando had insisted on driving you back to your hotel but you knew his car would cause a fuss so you declined and told him you had an Uber discount code that was due to expire. You make an effort to seem fascinated by the cracks in the sidewalk and Lando acts intrigued by the streetlights, both of you dancing around the question that lingers unspoken in the air.

Are we going to meet up again?

The alert on your phone informs you that your driver is only a minute away.

“He’s almost here,” you tell Lando. “Thank you so much for paying for dinner, you really didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s okay!” he insists. He shifts his weight on his feet before offering his arms to you.

You accept his invitation and hug him goodbye. You can’t help but notice the heat radiating through his thin shirt and feel his heart hammering between your two chests. His fingertips burn brands into your skin as they rest softly on your back and when he pulls back from you his hands don’t move an inch.

You catch his gaze and feel his thumb sweep softly over the fabric of your dress, underneath your jacket, before his lips meet yours in a searing kiss.

You’re caught off guard to say the least. His hands are hot on your back but his lips are soft and you’d be lying if you said they weren’t sending your head into a frenzy.

The rest of the day’s events are temporarily overruled by Lando kissing you; lying to your dad about where you are, wishing you could celebrate Lando’s fourth place finish with him in his garage, the repetitive questions aimed at you by the police that had you exhausted by mid morning, let alone Max’s accident.

Max.

And suddenly it’s not Lando’s but another pair of lips that are on yours, larger and hungrier and they come with a devastating reminder of what it’s like to sneak around with a Formula 1 driver. The lying and heartache that you remember all too clearly to feel like the kind of falling that jolts you awake from dreams.

You pull back and place your hands on Lando’s shoulders, staring down.

He’s instantly apologetic, bringing a hand through the front of his hair. “Sorry, I thought…fuck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say, removing your hands and wrapping them around yourself. “It’s okay, um my car’s here anyway so I gotta go.”

He just nods and shoves his hands into his pockets.

The slamming of the car door feels like a hammer pounding in Lando’s head. For a moment he had you. In his hand was the opportunity to make something great out of your meeting, but he wrapped his fingers inward and crushed it in an instant.

———

When you wake the next morning, your head remains sore from the screeching of car engines throughout your eventful weekend. Though not particularly unbearable at the time, the accumulation of noise over the three days you were at the track had definitely built up.

Instinctively, you check your phone, assuming that you would be confronted with your typical notifications: a recommended Instagram account, a liked Tweet, maybe even a text. You know you’re being optimistic to expect anything from Lando, your mind refusing to stop reminding you of how awkward you had made your time together the night before. Still, you yearn for any sort of reassurement that it wasn’t as bad as your overthinking had made it out to be.

You read the time and see that it’s almost noon. You know that your dad will be out until around two o’clock, already fussing about with work related ordeals in order to have things perfect for the race in Hungary. When you eventually awaken enough to read the notifications on your phone, you find it difficult to hide your surprise as you find a text and missed call from Lando, the nervous feeling that you endured last night returns, sinking into your stomach like a stone.

Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I had a really nice time last night :) Sorry if I was too forward at the end, I hope it didn’t ruin your night or anything.

Biting back a smile as you read the text, your mind is put at ease as you realise that he enjoyed himself as much as you did. You’re tempted to text him back immediately and tell him that he’s being silly, that of course he didn’t ruin your night. You wish you could explain your situation with Max and how, if it were any other night than the one your ex-boyfriend spent in hospital, you would have kissed Lando back. However, your plan to reply is thwarted as you notice the notification that informs you Lando also left you a voicemail. He must have called some time after sending his initial text message. Finger hovering over the play button, you are hopeful that it’s further kind words about your time together, or perhaps an invitation for a second ‘date’. If you could call it that. Nevertheless, you push the button.

The disappointed sigh he lets out causes your heart to stutter, before his voice crackles through the phone speaker.

“Hey, it’s me. Sorry for calling, I know I already texted you and um… I hate that I have to do this but I think it would be better for you to hear it from me instead of finding out online or something. I’ve just seen that someone got pictures of us together last night. I didn’t think anyone who knew me would be there but I guess it was still close enough to Silverstone that someone recognised who I was. I’m really sorry, but if it is any help I don’t think anyone recognised you because your face isn’t really in the photos. I’m trying to get them taken down and it’s not really on Instagram or in the news or anything, but lots of people on Twitter are talking about it. If there’s anything that I can do, please let me know. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widen at his words, breath hitching in your throat as you process it. You replay the message over and over, as if hearing it multiple times will change the bad news Lando delivers each time. Instinctually, you close the app and scrub your hands over your face. You wonder about what exact kind of picture the photos he’s referring to imply. Does it paint a picture that could get you in trouble?

What about Lando?

Fuck.

What about your dad?

Your stomach drops at the thought of him seeing them. Getting caught lying about your whereabouts was one thing, but being caught with Lando Norris while you promised you were tucked up in the confines of your hotel room opens up a whole new world of possible consequences.

As if the universe can read your mind, it delivers your worst nightmare to you on a silver platter, piping hot and laced with venom.

A notification appears from your dad.

Call me when you’re awake.

-------

tag list @lovebynorth @its-astrotea-love​ 

[scorpiobitch95]

Summary: You try convince Walter to love your favorite snack throughout your years together. The best dates are shared over cereal, after all.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: sugary sweet fluff, implied smut — nothing graphic, snarkiness, grumpy Walter to fluffy Walter, cursing, cuteness overload.

Author's Note: I let myself get carried away with this one. I needed grumpy but sweet Walter in my life. I hope you enjoy!

Edited by myself, sorry not sorry for the errors.

Taglist: @justaboringadult @greensleeves888 @cavillsharman @beck07990 @summersong69 @myloveforhenrycavill @kebabgirl67

Taglist for this fic: @lumiousmoon

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, or claiming any ideas or parts as your own.

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed!

It started when you and Walter were early dating.

💋

“Mmmm, pause. I need a snack.” Uncurling yourself from Walter’s warm body on the couch, you made your way to the kitchen to find something to cure your hunger. You called behind you, “Want anything, Marsh?”

“Whatever you’re having... I’ll have the same.”

“Cereal it is!” You pulled the ceramic bowls from the cabinet and opened the fridge to grab the milk. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Walter’s face scrunch in confusion. “What?”

“Cereal? Absolutely not,” Walter scoffed. “Would you grab me those spicy crisps?”

“Spicy chips, coming right up.” Vernacular was the subject of an ongoing heated debate with the Brit: the great ‘Names for Snacks Debate’ was especially hostile.

Once settled back under the blanket and snuggled into his side once more, you unpaused the movie. The energy in the room shifted, you could sense that you were being watched, but you refused to look up to look at Walter’s face. The judgment coming from the bear of a man who crunched his chips beside you was glaring.

"Stop it," you told him as you kept your eyes on the movie.

Walter didn’t say a word. His eyes traveled back to the TV but kept finding their way back to you.

“Walt, what is it? Is there something on my face?” You giggled at him lightly, unsure of what was bothering him.

“You really chose that for a snack?” His face was bewildered as if you were eating a bowl of Jeep parts.

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t eat cereal as a snack.” He shook his head curtly, wearing a look of disgust. Your eyebrows crinkled together as you followed by asking, “Not even as a quick dinner?”

“Cereal is meant for one time and one place, and that’s sometimes in the mornings for breakfast. That's why they call it breakfast cereal, love. Not dinner cereal, not snack cereal... Do you also eat cereal for lunch?” He was poking fun at you now.

“No, I’m not a heathen, Walter. Here, try a bite, just trust me. It’s amazing as a movie snack.”

His eyes were wide as a grimace was sent in your direction, “You’re crazy — no one does that.”

“Plenty of people do that,” you stated matter-of-factly.

“I’m really not the biggest fan…” Walter sighed and settled further into the couch, preparing for your exasperation that he knew was soon to follow.

“WHAT. Not the biggest fan of cereal? I’m sorry, you were sheltered as a child, weren’t you? There's cereal out there for everyone, Walt. Come on, try it.” You scooped a spoonful of your sugary Cinnamon Toast Crunch and held it to him. He reluctantly obliged your wishes, eating the bite but keeping a look of pain on his face for the entire time he chewed.

"See? Delicious. Ice-cold, crunchy, sweet, perfect." A sugary grin accompanied your playful tone, and Walter shook his head again, exaggerating his distaste for having to chew such an atrocity.

"Mhm. Definitely delicious." Your goofy bear was simmering under the surface of his scouring demeanor, though he stuck his tongue out in mock disgust.

"You're not the biggest fan," you muttered under your breath and rolled your eyes for dramatic effect. "I'll show you."

💋

Standing in the grocery store, you and Walter were having a battle of wits, arguing on the subject of your sweet tooth.

“I’m just trying to show concern for your dental health since you obviously won’t; all that sugar isn’t good for you.” Walter stood stern with his arms crossed, unmoving and solid like a brick wall.

“I appreciate your worry, Dad, but I’m going to keep eating it because I love it. One day, I bet I’ll convince you and you’ll be eating it with me. Plus, my dental health is immaculate, my dentist said so.”

The expression on Walter's face was unwavering as his eyebrows raised in a non-verbal challenge to your declaration.

“I don’t know how you can stand to eat that crap,” he muttered, thinking you couldn’t hear him.

“Oh no, don’t you dare, you grump! I don’t get on you about your snacks, back off mine. ” Despite his unnecessary grouchiness, you placed a hand on his crossed arms and raised up on your toes to give him a soft kiss on his bearded face. “Balance, babe. It’s all about balance.” You dug your way through his arms to find his hands and you drug him a little further down the cereal aisle.

“Come on, grumbly, pick out a cereal you think you might enjoy, for experiment’s sake.”

💋

“Fuck, babe. I’m going to be late, we just got called out on another accident. I am so sorry… I’m not sure when I’ll be home.” Walter had been working a ton lately, and his irritation with just how much he’d been working was starting to show. The two of you had been together for a few months now and had started to grow accustomed to having the other around consistently. You both became out of sorts when you hadn’t seen each other in a while.

“Don’t even worry about it, Walter. Just be careful, please... You should still come over when you’re finished tonight, but no pressure if you’re exhausted.”

“Of course, still need to kiss you goodnight. I can’t sleep if I haven’t.”

Walter Marshall might be a grump, but that grump could make your heart flutter in ways that you’d never felt before. Maybe it was that his sweetness and his charms were completely reserved for you and you alone. His teddy bear nature only appeared when he was near you.  After putting back the ingredients for dinner to save for another night, you went to change into your sweats.

Walter appeared at your front door at 12:30 that night, nearly asleep but still standing strong. You’d dozed off on the couch after his call, but were immediately energized again when you saw his beautiful form standing in your doorway.

“Hello, I’m here to have a very late night date with an incredibly beautiful woman,” Walter said, the gravel in his voice making you shiver. Despite his exhaustion, Walter managed to smile at you with one of the biggest smiles you’d ever seen him manage.

You smirked, waving him inside. “Get in here, Bear.”

Walter reached his arms out to you, inviting you into his embrace. Your arms wrapped around his thick torso and you ran your hands up and down his sweater-clad back; he melted into you and burrowed his face into your neck. Walter released an exhaustive exhale. It was heavy and forceful, as though he’d been holding it back behind a stone barricade for the entirety of his day. Warmth flooded your body as his words vibrated from his chest, “Mmm... I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. Let’s get you fed. Preferences?”

Still snuggled in your neck, he gave his reply, “Nothing heavy, please. I don’t want to fall asleep at the table. That wouldn’t make for a good date.”

“Oh Walter, we can postpone date night, you need to eat something and get to bed. It’s nearly one,” you observed gently as you leaned your head back to get a better look at his face.

“No. I came here to have a date night. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day. I need you.” Walter’s warm lips caressed your forehead, placing soft kisses on you. “You think you’re still up for it?”

Nodding at him sweetly, you untangled from his embrace and went to tumble through the fridge, offering out suggestions for food, but he insisted, yet again, that you don’t go to any trouble.

“Okay… you’re going to hate it, but my last option is cereal. Other than that, it’s gonna be random leftovers.” You continued moving containers around in the fridge, taking stock of what you had left from the week before.

“Actually, I think I can handle some cereal.” You whipped your head around incredulously to look and heckle him, but he gruffly interrupted, pointing a finger at you from where he sat at your kitchen table. "Don't. Don't start. It's been a brutal day, and something cold doesn't sound half bad."

You smirked in silence as you turned back and poured your bowls, dancing your hips lightly side to side. Grabbing the candles you had left out for your dinner date, you lit them and placed them gently on the table between the two of you. It was date night, after all.

“Late night cereal date, it is.” Reaching down to caress his chin, you kissed one bearded cheek before sitting beside him. Walter’s lips held a slight curl, softly smiling at your glee.

💋

“Love, snack break?”

The two of you were engaged in an intense game of Scrabble, one of your favorite date-night-in traditions. Nodding your head in Walter’s direction, you continued to study your letters and the board with pure focus until you heard the twinkling sound of cereal hitting ceramic.

Not wanting to draw too much attention, you peeked up from your letter rack to make sure your ears weren’t deceiving you. Walter was not just making a bowl for you, but he was also making one for himself.

No way.

Walter made his way back to the table with the cereal, and you looked up at him in shock as though you hadn’t already noticed what he’d done.

“What is this? What is this I see? Walter Marshall choosing breakfast cereal as a snack? Why, I just cannot believe it.” Mock-surprise overtook your form as you motioned fake mind-blowing explosions from your head. Walter rolled his eyes.

“I figured If I can learn to like you, I can learn to like cereal.”

“HEY.”

Walter shrugged, retaking his seat at the table.

You squinted your eyes at him as you declared, “You’re going down for that. And I don’t just mean by losing this game.” A wicked grin crossed your face when you played your double score word:

“CHEERIO”

💋

Walter worked a lot of graveyard shifts while you were dating and during your early years of marriage while you worked a normal 8-5. Sometimes the only moments that you could see each other were when he came home from his shift early in the mornings before you started your day or in the evenings when you got home before he left to start his.

One early morning during your engagement, Walt showed up unannounced after a hard few nights at the PD. He was worn down but happy to see you, smiling through his exhaustion. This was the longest you’d been apart in a while; you hadn't seen each other in 4 days. You kissed him, lips attacking his while his arms snaked around you and pulled you tightly to his body. He hadn’t even come into the house yet.

Pulling him inside, your hands reached up to hold his scruffy face as you placed a more gentle kiss on his lips. “Babe, have you had dinner? Let’s get you something to eat… what would you like?”

He unfastened his holster, dropping it on the table by the door. Sinking into a chair, Walter bent over to untie his boots as he answered, “Honestly, anything is fine, just some kind of food.”

“I can cook you something! Why don’t you let me —“

“Sweet, don’t go to any trouble. I just want to see you before you go to work.”

He looked at the table where you had just sat down to a bowl of cereal for a quick breakfast before he arrived and pointed lazily to it. “That, I’ll take some,” he said, sleep trying to overtake his form.

Slowly grinning at his statement, you mentioned, "Isn't this technically your dinner time?" Walter wasn’t amused as he tilted his head to look at you as you gasped playfully, “You do realize you're about to eat cereal for dinner, right, Marsh?" Too sleepy to give his verbal rebuttal, he glared at you, the corners of his lips turning up slightly, which was your signal to accept your victory and move on.

Smiling softly back at him, you made your way to pour him a big bowl and made him a cup of piping hot tea to accompany it. Watching his face as he ate, you observed the little creases and purple-gray rings that had formed around his deep ocean-blue eyes. His beard was unkempt and had grown past its normal length just in the few days you’d been apart; you could see this was a new level of exhaustion.

“Tough night?” You asked him, moving your chair closer to him.

He nodded. “Very.” The nights were becoming more strenuous recently. Ever since he had switched to the detective unit, work had been holding him hostage and was taking a toll more than he’d like to admit.

His hand reached over to squeeze the free one lying on your lap. “I’m happy to see you, love.” The hard lines on his face softened as he traced lazy circles on the back of your hand with his calloused thumb. You could see in his eyes that he meant it, that you were his safe space. Walter always was in protection mode, always on alert, even though you tried to keep him at ease when he was with you. He was only really ever at ease once he was home and you were safe in his arms.

The food began to rouse him from sleepiness, and as he gained alertness, Walter’s brow furrowed as he took notice of the cereal box sitting on the dining table. “This is the one we’re eating? I expected you to be eating more of one of those tooth-rotting cereals that you love so much.” He looked over at the box of Honey Bunches of Oats with curiosity and then back at you, lifting what you called his ‘detective eyebrow.’

“This is… surprisingly somewhat better for you? Or at least it acts like it is.”

“Oh come on, I’m not that bad. I only let you believe that I am. It is my breakfast time after all,” you winked at him knowingly.

“Good to know my words are finally starting to sink in. I mean, it’s not that much better for you,” he was reading the box now, “but at least it isn’t borderline fluorescent, like those artificial fruity ones you’re always eating.”

“You know, it’s almost like I expect the hate and just enact my deflection shield every time you walk in the door.” You started giggling, unable to keep a straight face as you threw your arms in front of your face as a shield to his words. “Don’t worry, Walt, my guilty pleasure cereal collection is well-stocked. And quit hating on my Fruity Pebbles.”

💋

Slowly over time, these seemingly random cereal dates became a large foundation for quality time. These dates became like snapshots, each one memorable in its own way.

When you two hadn’t seen each other in days, you caught up over a cold bowl of sugary sweetness. You, telling all the details of your days; him, quietly listening and trying his best to leave his nights behind.

From then on, all it took was knowing you could have a cereal date mixed in the chaos of everyday life. Anytime things got hard or heavy, it was time to have a cereal date. Anytime you had a fight: you both would pause and make a bowl of cereal, sitting across the table from each other so that you could speak your feelings. There weren’t many of the world’s problems, or your own, that couldn’t be solved over sugary cereal and cold milk.

💋

You’d dragged Walter to your shared bed as soon as he’d arrived home, having not seen him for more than a few minutes at a time for the past month. This current case of his was intense and ongoing, but he was finally finished. You knew he was defeated in energy, but you were ovulating and your hormones were raging. Your body craved his touch and the feel of his skin gliding upon your own.

The plan was to go to dinner for a romantic evening since it had been a long while since that had been possible, but as soon as he walked through the door, your feral sexuality washed over you and you jumped into his arms. You clung to him with your face in his neck, taking in his scent and the warmth of his strong arms holding you up. He clung to you just as tightly. There was no complaint from the bear, for he was more than happy to spend the evening spoiling his lover.

Cuddling in the afterglow of your countless orgasms, a storm raged outside as tree limbs slapped at your windows incessantly.

“Wow, it sounds awful out there. I know we were going out, but I think that point is moot now.” You glanced up at Walter, kissing his jaw. “Let’s just cook something easy instead.”

“That sounds great, and we can stay naked.” Walt’s eyebrows danced flirtatiously as he grinned down at you, his hands caressing your warm skin. “I’ll go hunt around so I can keep my woman energized for the night ahead. We are nowhere near done.”

He’d only been gone a minute when a crack of thunder shook the house and the lights went dark. You heard his mumbling coming from the kitchen; he had called in to get a status update from the energy company.

Walking back into the bedroom, Walter, in his naked glory, walked over to where you laid, illuminated only by the candle he held in his hand. Wow, your husband was delicious.

"Power’s out for the whole city. It’ll take hours since this storm doesn’t have an end in sight. Looks like a hot dinner is off the table… and no one will deliver in this weather. I guess we know what’s for dinner." Setting the candle on the nightstand, he crawled back into bed.

Feeling seductive, despite being completely spent from your ravenous love-making mere minutes beforehand, you still hadn’t had your fill of your husband. You bit your lip as you ran your eyes up and down his exquisite body and cheekily replied, “Me, I hope.”

He chuckled lowly, the fangs in his pearly-white smile glinting at you in the candlelight. “You? Yes. I plan to feast on you all night long, kitten. But you’re going to need some sustenance first.” He was hovering over you. You couldn’t help yourself as you reached to run your fingers along his hairy chest and wrapped a leg around his hip, pulling him closer to you.

"Make it a cereal date?" You grinned at him.

“You read my mind.”

💋

“Our child is going to come out looking like the Lucky Charms Leprechaun if you don’t change it up some, love.”

Your cravings were intense. You’d heard several different views from your girlfriends and sisters: some craved random things they never even liked before, and some craved more of the things that they already loved and ate religiously before pregnancy. You fell into the latter. Cereal was your most sought-after snack: a big surprise to no one.

There weren’t many cliche late-night ice cream runs, but there were plenty of cereal and milk runs. Walter was a dutiful dad already, not lecturing you too often on what you wanted; he knew you were doing what you had to for the baby, and you ate healthily enough… aside from the copious amounts of junk cereal.

True to numerous other times in your life, date nights were hard to come by, even still. Sometimes the only dates you and Walter would get were in the wee hours of the morning when you’d wake up with a craving.

Walter was extremely doting, and even though he’d always been a caretaker, he really came into his own when you both learned you were to become parents. He’d crawl from the bed without a word, rummaging in the kitchen to bring you a bowl of your favorite and even bringing a small one for himself. You two would snuggle in the bed and talk. Talk about your baby, about future babies, about the future, about your dreams, all of it. You never knew when you met the grumpy bear that he would become this sweet of a man, always tender with you even when he was rough. Maybe it was the cereal sugar that had sweetened him up, at least you’d like to think so.

💋

Your daughter had been in the world for a little over three weeks, and neither you nor Walter had gotten much sleep since her arrival.

Walter finally got her down to sleep while you watched from the nursery doorway. You hadn’t had a meal together or slept at the same time for more than 10 minutes in weeks.

He was standing over her crib, resting his arms on the side as he watched her sleep. He was infatuated with this tiny human who had completely taken hold of his heart.

“Honey, join me for a date?” Your smile was tired, and as your bear’s exhausted eyes met yours, you wondered if you two shouldn’t just go to bed, but you missed him. You’d barely gotten the chance to praise him for how good of a daddy he was to your little girl.

“Mhm, gladly. Our usual?” He quietly followed you to the living room, where the coffee table had already been set up with the works. Craving the feel of his touch on your skin, you both sat on the couch and you laid your legs across his lap while you enjoyed the serenity of each other’s company.

💋

A chill glided across your skin as you awoke from a dream. You rolled over, reaching your arms out to find your sturdy man, searching for his warmth. Instead, you found cold bedsheets.

Unlike Walter to not be in bed with a furry arm draped over you, you pulled on your robe and went to find him, a slight worry filling your mind.

Surely he would have woken me if he’d had to go in?

As you stepped into the hallway, you heard hushed giggles and whispers coming from the kitchen. You stopped to poke your head into your kids’ rooms. Their beds were empty.

At least it’s Saturday.

Quietly pitter-pattering to your kitchen, you peered your head around the corner to find one of the sweetest sights your eyes had ever seen: your two babes, 8 and 5, were playing a princess board game at the table with your Bear. Cereal by their side, giggles ensued as the sugar hit their systems and they tried their best to keep quiet.

Walter’s deep whisper quietly filled the space. “Shh, girls. We can’t wake Mum, she needs her rest.”

“Can I have more Cap’n Crunch, Daddy?” Your youngest had an insatiable sweet tooth, just like her mama. She was quietly bouncing in her chair and smiling a toothy grin at her daddy.

“You’re just like your mum,” Walter beamed at her, obliging her wishes. “Just a little more, love, then we need to brush our teeth and get back to sleep.”

Not wanting the girls to know that you knew about their secret, you decided to make your way back to bed, but not before catching your husband’s eye as he winked at you and a grin radiated from his face.

Warm tingles filled your body as you silently thanked the universe for Walter and the life that the two of you had built together. Walter was the best dad and husband in the world. How had you gotten so lucky?

💋

“Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Golden Grahams, love?” Walter called to you from the kitchen.

The movie was selected, the kids were away for the evening sleeping at friend’s houses, and you and Walter were having a much-deserved night in.

You called back to him, “I’m thinking I’m going to skip the cereal? I’m not really feeling it tonight. I will, however, eat the spicy chips. Oh, and grab that dip out of the fridge, will ya?”

“For the last time, they are crisps.” Annoyance was evident by his tone.

“They’re chips, Walter. You’ve lived in the states for how long now? Just give it up already.”

“No fucking way. Wait… You don’t want cereal? Are you feeling alright?” Walter’s head popped into the doorway that connected the kitchen to the living room, his face stern with confusion and concern.

“Ehh, not right now. Yes, I’m fine, Marsh,” you giggled. “Just feeling like something different for once.”

“Well, that’s shocking. I’m just wondering if you’re really my wife.” Giggles continued to flow out of you as he wandered back to where you were seated. He handed you your snack, and plopped on the couch next to you, cuddling into you as you tossed a blanket over both of your bodies. Walter started the movie and began to chow down on the bowl of cereal he’d made for himself. You couldn’t control the smirk that spread across your lips as you watched him out of the corner of your eye.

“What?” he asked, his mouth full of the golden and cinnamon squares. His eyes met yours, questioning you.

“I would just like to point out that I knew I could convince you.”

His brow furrowed in confusion, not sure what you meant. “Convince me of what?”

“That cereal is the best movie snack.”

“I don’t know if I’d say it’s the best…”

“Walt, I’m sitting here with your previous favorite movie snack in my hands, and you totally skipped over it and went for cereal. I’m just saying, I told you so. It’s okay, I’ve known I was right all along, you don’t have to admit it.”

“Hmm.” He growled, mouth full again as he ignored your statement.

“Give me a bite!” You pressed closer to him, reaching for his spoon as he angled his body and cereal away from you.

“Oh no, nice try. You tease, you don’t get any.”

“Fine, grumpy, I’ll go make my own. Keep watching, I’ll be back.”

Shuffling to the kitchen, you proceeded to grab a bowl and make your own, but you found both cereal boxes empty on the counter. Quickly turning to check your special cereal cabinet for a backup box, you discovered you were completely out.

“WALTER! Are you fucking kidding me? We just bought those!” Standing with your arms crossed in the doorway, you glared at Walt as he stared back at you unfazed.

“I hate to break up your gloating, but you created this monster, love. And don’t forget about our two other little monsters who take after you.” His grin was cocky; he knew he’d bested you. Laser beams could have been shooting from your eyes for all you knew. You shook your head in disbelief at the audacity of your husband.

That bastard. That beautiful bastard.

Walter smiled softly at you and motioned for you to rejoin him on the couch. Much to your dismay, your anger at him diffused immediately. “Love, I’ll go buy more first thing in the morning. Here, come and share mine. I’ll be nice… it is date night, after all.”

* I do not own Walter Marshall, Nomis, Night Hunter, or anything related to it.

[kyloswarstars]

ROOMMATES • Part 8

Divergent • College AU • Eric x Reader

ROOMMATES masterlist 💫 Divergent masterlist

You escaped your current living situation by moving in with your friend Christina – and five other college students. Little did you know that one of them was the guy who was your ultimate pain in the neck since your first semester. Now, you had to find a way to not strangle him in his sleep out of pure frustration. Also, you had to find a way to get rid of those weird butterfly feelings for him that slowly grew in your stomach.

Words • 2.7k

The enemies to lovers story no one needed.

/////

The day in the zoo was sad and great and irritating and left you with a faint emptiness. Eric kept a physical distance ever since. His hand didn’t brush yours randomly when you met in the hallway. He didn’t stand close to you at the check out when you went grocery shopping together. His feet didn’t accidentally pump into yours under the dining table when you had the roommate gatherings. He didn’t sat down next to you on the balcony, he didn’t bump into you when you got out of the bathroom and he certainly did not press his side to yours anymore. His thigh, his arm, his shoulder wasn’t burning against yours, the magnetising pull just eradicated as if you had never felt it at all.

Your bodies didn’t touch anymore and that made sure that none of all those times, you had wondered if it had been on accident, had been on accident. It had always been on purpose. Eric had wanted to be close and now he didn’t want to anymore. And the weirdest thing of it all was that you still wanted to be close.

The weeks went by. Chicago finally decided that it was time for all the stuffy air to vanish. With one big, biblical doomsday thunderstorm the sky cleared itself with heavy rain and sent all the heat it had held to the future. Stored it for next summer. It was still warm, still summer but it slowly came closer to its end, moving on from the start, moving on from you moving into this apartment.

You stared at the walls in the night. There was still the knocking. Every single night, his knuckles morsed ‚GN‘ and you returned it. That was the closest your hands got – six inches divided by a wall.

While Eric remained this physical distance, his eyes didn’t stop staring at you. And lacking his side pressed against yours in the most random situations, you stared right back. Whenever you sensed his eyes on you, you were drawn to them immediately. As if the magnet had been shoved into them, now that is wasn’t in your thigh anymore.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. A good mantra to repeat when you worked on the study. For a few days you had to repeat it almost every minute to concentrate. But the more time, days and then eventually weeks passed, it got easier. Peter had still been on your mind now and then but he just wasn’t worth it. And, even without Eric stating the obvious back at the zoo, you knew it. It was summer break still, but as soon as the new semester would start, there would be no time to think about a guy anymore. Not about Peter and not about Eric.

With that you fully regained the realistic side of your mind. You concentrated on your beloved constant in life called mathematics. You tidied your room, threw out stuff you didn’t need anymore. You made pizza with Eric for all the roommates, he didn’t press himself next to you at the countertop but instead let you knead the dough on your own. Eric occasionally searched for a conversation and it was all still very sincere, way too friendly for the guy who had argued with you for more than two years in your classes. But no. physical. contact.

Reality. You focused on it and decided it was time to call your brothers. During the summer break your contact always faded a little, giving the fact that Cole had to be at every party, Levi saving his ass and leading a group of volunteers at the sea turtle rescue centre and you being wrapped up in whatever went through your mind.

It surprised you that both of them actually accepted the video call. Instant homesickness greeted you. Especially from Levi’s window. He was sitting in the kitchen, your mom cooking dinner in the background.

„Honey!“ She blurted over the boiling pots. Levi didn’t even have the chance to say hello. Cole, in his window, rolled his eyes. „Didn’t I and your father tell you to at least text once a week? So we know you didn’t fall of the earth’s surface, yet?“

She joked a little but you heard the seriousness in her voice. And it instantly made you feel guilty, knowing very well that a simple one word ‚alive‘ message would be enough for them. And you didn’t know why it was so hard for you to simply do that.

„I pledge improvement.“ You promised and tried to stick to it this time.

„Levi, move! Before dad comes around and threatens Y/N to fly up there every week to make sure she’s okay.“ Cole was laughing and Levi left the kitchen on his order.

„So you are alive,“ Levi stated. With him and Cole it wasn’t that much guilt anymore. Still a little but less than with your parents.

You affirmed and then lead the conversation in a different direction, tricked them into telling you about their summers without having to talk about yours.

Cole got drunk every second day, Levi got his ass home whenever he couldn’t walk straight anymore. No surprise. Levi gave a detailed report about the current numbers of turtle nests and the amount of baby turtles they expected to hatch. It was Levi’s first summer break since he had started college. Instead of freaking out like Cole and running to every beach gathering he could find, he sticked to be the responsible volunteer he was and cared for the turtle protection. It made you proud. Cole, was still on the team too. Only on the afternoons, though. After he had slept off his hangover and before he made sure to get a new one.

Brothers.

At the end of the call your dad fetched Levi’s phone, who sat on the porch by now, and stared at you for a second. He wasn’t as carefree anymore. A few years ago he would just blurb about everything that came to his mind. Now, he thought more about the things he said and what to hold back.

„You need more sleep, honey,“ he said, looked at you with a caring smile and ended the call. I know.

Shortly after the beeping of your phone, indicating the finished call, a knock on your door made you turn to it. By now you could tell apart your roommates by the rhythm of their knocking.

„Are you ready for the store?“ Eric peeked his head in and you wanted to say no but couldn’t. The golden rules of this household were sacred.

„Yes,“ you said instead and followed him outside to his car, parked right in front of the building. A rare parking spot – luck had to be fully on your side to find it free.

Uncomfortable memories of going to the grocery store and the aftermath of it accompanied you once again. This time, nothing would happen, you told yourself. No-one would see you and even if someone did, there was no chance for Peter to reach out to you again. Every possibility had been eliminated by Eric and you.

Eric pushed the cart, you loaded everything in. No blueberry fight, pizza wasn’t on the menu tonight and chocolate pretzels were fully stocked. No repeating of that awful day!

Eric came to stand next to you in front of the snack shelf, within a good distance of course. He grabbed a huge bag of chips, threw it in the cart and waited for you to continue. You stared at the chips in the cart.

„Not on our shopping list,“ you mumbled and almost would’ve returned them to the shelf but Eric grabbed the bag in time to save it from your hands.

„We will need it later,“ he said, his lips pulled in a honest smile.

„Why? What is later?“

He still held the bag of chips with one hand and pushed the cart down the aisle with the other. When he passed you, he dramatically stared at you for a second. „Big time cinema!“

Eric’s silly wide eyes made you laugh – and wish for his arm to actually brush you by accident. Just this one time. It didn’t. He was adamant to not touch you.

/////

With ‚big time cinema’ he meant Toy Story. So it was indeed big time cinema. And big was also the fact that you found yourself watching a movie. With Eric. In his bed. His laptop on his desk played the movie, you laid next to each other, backs propped on a lot of pillows and the bag of chips between you. He didn’t touch you and that gap between you could easily fit Christina if she was there.

At first you shook your head at his suggestion to watch a movie with him in his room. When he went for a good old debate on why you shouldn’t, you surrendered and hoped the dining table full of roommates didn’t make any remarks. No-one did. Christina only wiggled her eyebrows and hid her grin behind a spoon full of veggies.

But now you were here, on Eric’s bed, wearing some joggers and a hoodie and laughed at the screen whenever Rex the tyrannosaur had something to say.

„As a kid I always wondered if my own toys were alive as well when I wasn’t around.“ Eric mumbled with some chips in his mouth.

„Same,“ you whispered. „I wanted them to be real so bad!“

„Right? I wanted my toy cars to be real so they could drive to the kitchen and get me snacks.“ A single chip has fallen down on the way from the bag to his face. You were fast to steal it from the mattress and shove it in your mouth.

Eric turned to you, gasped and whispered in fake consternation: „Don’t you dare!“

You laughed once more. „I remember you saying that we will need this bag of chips. Not only you.“

He was quick to drop it and smiled at you as he placed the bag in the gap between you again. After having a huge bowl of veggies with noodles you still managed to kill the whole bag of chips with Eric. He was a little sad when he stared into the empty bag. He crumpled it up and tossed it into a corner of the room.

The positive side of running out of chips was the newfound silence and therefore finally understanding every word that was spoken in the movie.

„How are you, Y/N?“

There his question was again. In the zoo wasn’t the only and last time he asked. He kept asking whenever he pleased. And he wanted you to answer sincerely, you knew that. And you did, every time. The first time in long that you answered that question in full honesty. And he did as well, whenever you applied the question on him.

It was a lot easier now to answer him. „I feel good.“

„Yeah?“

„Yeah,“ you turned to see his face, the movie still playing in the background but of no importance for the moment. „I feel more like myself again. I understand now that my troubled thoughts about Peter are not worth it. That he’s not worth it but I am. I don’t care about him anymore. Not one tiny bit.“

Your words made his tensed face ease up a little. His lungs let out a breath he must have held. „Good,“ he smiled. He smiled and smiled and smiled. Then he turned to face his laptop again.

„What about you? How are you?“

„I feel more than good now,“ he stated which made you feel even better.

The movie continued playing. Woody and Buzz fought at the gas station. They eventually fell out of the car and were left behind. You were partially concentrating on the scenes, the Pizza Planet truck, when you noticed Eric’s hand moving closer to yours. Your hand, as well as his, was laying flat on the mattress. Out of the corner of your eye you saw it coming closer in ultra slow motion. Did he think you wouldn’t notice? Did he think you would scare away if he moved his hand faster? What did he think?

You took smaller breaths and tried to concentrate only on the movie but Eric’s hand was still getting closer. It was closer than your knuckles at night, when they knocked ‚good night’. Your eyes shifted between the screen, his hand, your hand. All while you didn’t turn your head. This stupid little heart inside of your chest quickened. It activated the butterflies in your stomach, sent them flying through your whole body. Excitement over the almost physical contact was rushing through you.

When his pinky spread out and ever so slightly brushed yours, he waited. For you to draw back, to possibly shout at him for what he was doing. You didn’t. You didn’t look at him, knowing very well that Eric wasn’t looking at the movie on his laptop at all. He kept his finger steady against yours, didn’t dare to move it or to breathe. You didn’t breathe either. Instead you linked your little finger with his, tying them like a knot.

Both of you exhaled at the same time. No one said a word. You still stared at the movie and sensed Eric’s head returning to the screen as well. All the butterflies gathered in your hand and made it tingle. They demanded for more. More than this simple but electrifying knot of your pinkies.

You couldn’t bring yourself to take his full hand, though. A million thoughts were running through your brain and all of them were leading back to this tiny touch. You were scared he would break the physical contact again if you searched for more. Unsure as to why he even had closed the gap and reached out after weeks of adamantly making sure no accidental body contact happened.

You were irritated. And you were… happy. And you stopped breathing once more. Eric stopped your train of thoughts abruptly.

He started to intertwine his fingers with yours. Just the way he had tried to in the furniture store. Back then you had drawn back but this time you didn’t. You welcomed his fingers between yours. When they were perfectly locked in place, you squeezed them shortly, causing Eric to sigh in relief. He grabbed onto your hand and held it tight, not giving you the choice of letting go anymore. Never would you have let go of his big hand entangled with yours. This pure feeling of holding his hand almost made you burst because it silenced the oppressing feeling of homesickness. It captured those butterflies and turned them into a vibrant, positive version of that doomsday thunderstorm from a few days ago. If holding hands could make you feel that way… what would a kiss feel like then?

That thought made your head turn to look at him. You just stared at him as he watched the movie with a grin on his lips. When the closing credits appeared on the screen, reflecting in his eyes, Eric turned to you again.

„I don’t want to leave just yet,“ you said, not really sure why this honest admittance sent heat to your cheeks.

„Okay,“ he whispered and leaned forward to start Toy Story 2 without letting go of your hand. When he pushed himself back into the pillows, he entirely closed the space between your bodies this time. He placed the bundle of hands that wouldn’t let go off each other, on his abdomen and just like that you laid next to each other. His thumb brushed over yours while the second movie unfolded in front of you. A smile was chiseled into your face. You noticed Eric shifting at some point and placing the bundle of hands on his chest. You noticed the movie's noises fainting after a while, your eyelids grew heavy. A wave of Eric’s sent was pushed over, calming you and dragging you into a sheltered sleep.

/////

Taglist • @longlostinanotherworld • @dosentier • @dhunhdchrih • @coryisagee

[unbridgeabledistances]

i love ur new fic! only a couple of requests - more parts to it! and...more softness between the two of them 🥺 we hardly get given any in the show </3

:)) ty so so much, anon!!! as requested, here’s another installment of the alternate POV fic (this time from tami’s perspective) and a whooole lot of domestic gallavich softness (featuring very sappy kitchen slow dancing)

--

Tami knew that the pandemic had taken a toll on its fair share of relationships— hell, hers and Lip’s included. But as much as she and Lip bickered and miscommunicated and regularly put up solid walls of lies between each other, at least, the very least—

At least they weren’t like Ian and Mickey.

At some point between being head-over-heels, fuck-all-night crazy for each other and getting married, something between Lip’s brother and his stellar choice of a Southside boyfriend had definitely changed. Tami wasn’t really close to either of them, other than Ian’s borderline obsession with Fred and her gratefulness for the cooing baby voice that came over him every time Tami thrust her tired arms out for him to take the screaming toddler in her arms, and she barely crossed paths with Mickey in a situation that wasn’t coordinating frozen waffles for breakfast or sitting across from him in the living room during Gallagher family movie nights that always inevitably turned into a passionate thirty minute screaming match about which movie to pick— but ever since the first time she set foot into the slumped and sagging Gallagher house, Tami knew that Ian and his choice of a prison-break boyfriend were something special, at least at the beginning.

She’d seen it the first time she met the two of them, when these two grown men were willingly crashing in that shitty single bed in the boys’ room while she and Lip were slumming it in the ever-so-spacious privacy of the cramped room with the accordion door, back when the halls were crawling with strangers making tamales and Fred was barely weeks old and Tami was inches away from losing her shit; Tami couldn’t imagine being in a smaller and more confined space than the one that she was in, locking herself in the bathroom behind an actual fucking door every chance for some peace and quiet, distancing herself from Lip every chance she got— and then there was Ian and Mickey down the hall, sleeping pressed together on a concave mattress meant for a single teenager, pouring each other coffee and trading glances as they sat next to each other at the breakfast table, and pulling each other closer every second they had the chance despite the fact that they’d just gotten out of a months-long prison stay together. There was something so earnest, and so weirdly romantic, about seeing a hardass like Mickey Milkovich, someone with “Fuck U Up” tattoos on his knuckles and more of a sailor’s vocabulary than Tami had, turn to putty whenever he was in proximity to Lip’s little brother. Tami had to be honest—she was kind of impressed. These guys clearly had the teenager, puppy-dog kind of love for each other that hadn’t really gone away, something that she didn’t think that she and Lip ever really had, or ever really would— so as much as she felt like her life and her relationship with Lip was spiraling towards a series of cascading failures, it was nice to know that at least someone in the Gallagher house had a sturdy, stable relationship.

And then, of course, the pandemic hit.

When all this COVID shit started, Tami had counted her infinite blessings that she and Lip had gotten a place of their own outside the Gallagher house before all the sprawling weeks of lockdowns; Tami couldn’t imagine the kind of unforgiving hell on earth it would be to quarantine in that tiny slumped house, in a tiny cramped room, for months on end until the U.S. tangentially got its shit together. So it made sense, really, that everything between Ian and Mickey had changed.

She’d noticed it that first morning, when she and Lip finally dropped by the house after weeks of hunkering down to have breakfast with everyone, carrying a box of cheap pastries they’d gotten on the walk over— and the first thing she’d noticed when she walked into the kitchen was how far apart Mickey and Ian were sitting, on opposite ends of the rickety kitchen table, any scarce dialogue between the two of them turned brittle and stale.

There were spats, now, and gentle shoves that turned less gentle; she and Lip weren’t around the house much anymore, thank fucking god, but what few conversations she did see between Ian and Mickey always ended with raised voices and them both practically having steam coming out of their ears, or with some stray bystander needing to plant themselves in the middle of the married couple to tell them to calm the fuck down. Tami would lock eyes with Lip as they scuffled in the kitchen, her eyebrows raised in a message that she knew Lip understood: “See, this is why I never want to get married.”

So that was pretty much the situation Tami expected to be walking into, late one afternoon when Lip was presumably off doing some shady shit with those stolen bikes and Tami was stuck at the Gallagher house waiting to meet up with him so they could keep working through “Operation Sell the Gallagher House to Gentrifiers.” Tami had expected Lip to be here a couple of hours ago, and was honestly debating just saying fuck it and going home— but Fred had passed out in Tami’s lap as they were sitting on the couch a couple of minutes ago and Tami was not going to wake this monster child up before he was ready and took another hour of crying and writhing to settle down again. Tami was leaning back, closing her eyes and enjoying a rare moment of peace in this godforsaken house… when she was snapped back into reality by the sound of a kitchen cupboard slamming shut.

Huh. Tami had apparently drifted off, but Freddie was still sound asleep in her lap, pinning her down. It was definitely the early evening by now— the sun had started to set, glowing purple from behind the thin curtains.

A clang came from the kitchen again, and Tami craned her neck as much as she could without stirring the sleeping toddler in her lap to peer into the kitchen from the open doorway to see if Lip was home— and instead, she saw Ian standing by the counter opening something with a can opener, and Mickey beside him.

It looked like they’d been in the kitchen a while—from the corner of her eye she could see Mickey perched on the countertop sipping a beer, his legs swinging while Ian milled around him pulling things from the cabinets and manning the stovetop. She knew both of the boys weren’t much of a cook, and from what she’d seen Ian’s culinary abilities didn’t exceed heating up canned soup or spreading butter on toast— but it looked like he was chopping onions and opening a can of black beans for something, which struck her by surprise. There was music playing low from a little portable speaker in the kitchen, presumably something Ian had brought down from the bedroom— right now there was some 80s hit playing that reminded Tami of the music her dad used to listen to while he was putzing around in the garage when she was little, if she was bring totally honest. But Mickey seemed to be enjoying it, his head bobbing slightly to the beat while he scrolled through what she recognized as Ian’s phone.

“Okay, the recipe website says you’ve gotta add cumin now. What the fuck is cumin?”

She could hear Ian’s dry laugh. “A spice? I think? We probably don’t even have it, I’ll just add a shit ton of chili powder and it’ll taste fine.”

“Whatever you say, Rachel Ray.”

Tami could see Ian lean to flip Mickey off, then turn to poke through the cabinets. Weird. Ian had flipped Mickey off, sure, but there wasn’t any malice in it; for the first time in a while, it seemed like the two of them were actually coexisting peacefully for once— which, thank god for that, at the very least because it meant Fred would stay sleeping on her lap for a while until Lip got home.

Now that she thought back on it, Ian and Mickey had seemed a bit more settled lately— she’d heard bits and pieces about all the stuff with Mickey’s abusive asshole of a dad moving in next door, and about the two of them starting a security business together in that random ambulance that was always parked in the street now (Tami wasn’t even going to ask)— she could imagine that running errands around Chicago together all day long in matching jumpsuits would bring anyone closer together. This was the first time she’d really seen them enjoy being in each other’s space since the pandemic started, just casually hanging out around the house without something fiery about to erupt between them, whether from anger or passion— and honestly, it was kind of nice to by in proximity to, just listening to their chatter floating back and forth and the sizzling of onions and chili flakes in a pan while the music drifted between them.

Tami sat there for a while, closing her eyes again as the shadows in the room grew deeper, listening to some Bon Jovi song play low in the background and feeling the solid weight of Fred breathing evenly pressed against her chest.

A couple minutes of minutes later, she heard the stove being turned off, and the clanking of plates being taken out of the cabinets as the song ended.

“Hey, can I pick a song?” Ian asked, over the sound of him putting the sizzling pan into the sink.

Mickey burped loudly, and Tami could see that he was still perched on the edge of the kitchen counter by the stovetop.

“Yeah, but put on something good, man. None of your techno bullshit.”

“Pass me my phone.”

Ian fidgeted with the phone for a moment—and then a familiar song, a lot softer than the cheerful drumbeats of the melodies before, came streaming through the speaker.

“I found a love, for me…”

Immediately, she heard Mickey chuckle loudly, like he was surprised.

“Fuuuucking softie,” Mickey groaned, but when Tami craned her neck again to slyly peer at the two of them in the kitchen she could see that he was grinning. At first Tami was confused, but then a memory started to stir— this was their wedding song, wasn’t it? She remembered hearing it waft through the front hallways of the dingy polka house while she and Lip were having their screaming match over Fred. Ah, good memories.

Ian stepped closer to Mickey, and Tami promptly heard the pad of Mickey’s feet hitting the ground as he slid off of the kitchen countertop.

“Dance with me?”

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Mickey breathed, and then they were silent. From where she was sitting, Tami could see Ian’s broad shoulders standing in front of where Mickey had been seated— his head was curled downward slightly, and Mickey was pinned close against him, his face pressed into the upper half of Ian’s shoulder.

Well, damn. Tami smirked to herself. I guess that security business has worked some magic after all.

Out of nowhere, Fred started to stir and wriggle in Tami’s lap.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath. She didn’t really want to break up the sappy moment, but Freddie was definitely due for a diaper change and was going to be a fussy mess in about five seconds if she didn’t scoop him up right now.

She quickly rose from the lumpy couch, cradling the back of Fred’s head in her hands and beelining through kitchen doorway.

Instantly, Mickey nearly jumped out his skin when he saw Tami— he immediately detached himself from Ian’s shoulder and detangled himself from Ian’s arms. Ian just grinned sheepishly and leaned against the counter, letting Mickey ever-so-slightly slump against him.

Tami paused, taking the scene in and trying to hold back a knowing smile as Freddie fussed on her shoulder.

“The fuck’re you looking at?”

Mickey’s neck turned blotchy and flushed, and he darted his eyes to Freddie and then back to Tami.

Tami knew she had a sloped, sappy smile on her face. “Nothing. Just good to see you guys not ripping each other’s throats out for once.”

Mickey let out a slight breath, slumping back towards Ian’s chest even more— then he rolled his eyes, but the gesture was light and fond.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said dismissively. Ian was still practically beaming, and draped a hand across Mickey’s waist— and Tami watched as he slowly, slowly pressed a kiss to Mickey’s temple and Mickey’s posture immediately softened, like the air was being let out of him.

Wow. Okay. Guess the old Ian and Mickey are back.

Tami raised Freddie slightly onto her shoulder, then pushed past the two of them towards the back stairs, where Tami could hopefully go up and change her son’s shitty diaper in peace— and as she started to climb the stairs, she heard one final quip from Mickey:

“Your brother can’t sell this house fast enough, man.”

[bbugyu]

hi! could i request a jeonghan enemies (or friends that bicker a lot) to lovers? ty and i love ur writing !!

i am so glad you requested this because i have had this in the works for so long that i had to throw it into a case converter because it had capitalization and i was Not gonna finish it if i had to type it proper (i'm a fucking gremlin ok)

thank u for reading my work and thank u for giving me the perfect excuse to be hopelessly in love with jeonghan!!!!

falling + yoon jeonghan

finally, he thought. someone on his level. what’s the catch?

part one | part two

wc.10009 (fuckin oops) | fluff, humor, uni/coffeeshop/enemies to lovers au, gender neutral reader, slow burn, drinking, like lk too much drinking, swearing, throwing it back to sistar, copious argumentive flirting, everyone is MEAN but like in a funny way, bff!mingyu, it's your resident mingyuzi shipper, the only person more of a little shit than jeonghan is y/n

i used to be a barista and i would get exceptionally hateful towards customers for really stupid reasons and the only thing that could stop it is if they were really hot. this seems to hold great jeonghan energy. also i made y/n, like, mean as hell. like not actually mean but like. Mean. sorry. also all bars mentioned are real bars on capital hill in seattle that i love so if you recognize them that’s why. enjoy this enemies to lovers courtship.

*

you were pretentious, jeonghan thought. you acted like you were better than everyone else, and he hated that he had yet to find a reason to call you wrong.

he saw you almost every day during the week, between the class you shared on tuesdays and thursdays, and the cafe he worked in that you frequented to study. your demeanor was always polite, but what most people would describe as cold. you had caught his attention the first day of the semester, something about you seemed familiar, but he couldn't place it until he made your coffee the next day. you usually sat in the row in front of him, a few seats over, and he would chew on his cheek and wonder how you could sit back in your chair, arms crossed and eyes hardly opened, but still get the highest essay scores in the class. at the end of lecture, after he was done spending all his brain power stewing about your ability to succeed in visual culture without really trying, he would text his friend that took the class last quarter and ask, panic stricken, if he still had his notes, the irony of the situation completely lost on him.

at the cafe, you would come in, order an americano, and sit yourself in a well lit corner to work on your classes for a few hours, the coffee mostly undisturbed on the table beside your favorite armchair, then leave. there was never a smile on your face, and you were always alone. jeonghan watched the ice in your americano melt, watering down the coffee he made. maybe he had let the shots of espresso sit too long before saving them. maybe he let them burn on purpose just to see the face you made. but alas, you hadn't even put the metal straw to your lips. he wondered why you even ordered a coffee if you weren’t going to reap the benefit.

joshua spotted him leaning against the counter as he came out of the kitchen and laughed, setting down the freshly washed milk pitchers. “ask them out.”

he stood up straight. “why?”

“why not? you clearly like them.”

“i really don’t,” jeonghan laughed. “you’re crazy for thinking i do.”

joshua rolled his eyes. “no one spends as much time as you do staring at another person if they don’t find them at least a little attractive. have you ever even talked to them? outside of taking their order?”

he hesitated. “no?”

“so what if they’re actually really wonderful and you have a lot in common?”

“as if.”

“wow,” joshua said, leaning against the counter. “i can’t believe yoon jeonghan is afraid to talk to his crush.”

jeonghan shoved his friend's shoulder, giving him a look. “absolutely not. i'm 99% sure they're a pretentious asshole.”

he crossed his arms. “what does that make you?”

“shut up.”

“whatever, han. i’m just saying it’s kind of pretentious to hate someone solely because they don’t smile wide enough for you when they’re saying thanks.”

“it’s not that hard!” jeonghan said, maybe a little too loud. “i don’t wanna smile either, shua! but i do it! so can they!!”

joshua laughed. “lower your voice and go say hi, you freak.”

much to his chagrin, jeonghan got shoved towards your spot in the cafe with the front of the tables needing to get wiped down. he looked at joshua and seokmin with a furrowed brow as he wrung the towel, both of them giving him thumbs ups with wide grins. begrudgingly, he slowly made his way over to you.

“hey,” jeonghan said, doing his best to project something other than the absolute turmoil going on inside his head. you looked up from your textbook, pulling the earbud out of your ear. “why don’t you drink the coffee?”

you furrowed your brow and looked at your untouched americano. “i- uh, what?”

“you never drink the coffee,” he repeated, nodding at the glass. “why do you get it anyways?”

you blinked up at him. “are you offended that i’m not drinking your coffee?”

he almost laughed at the look of disbelief you were giving him. “no, i just don’t get why you waste the money here if you don’t even need the caffeine.”

“it’s cheaper to buy an americano than it is to rent a stall at a study cafe,” you said, habitually hitting save on your notes document. “why are you so worried about me, yoon jeonghan?”

he faltered, surprised. “you know me?”

“nametag,” you didn't miss a beat, pointing at his chest and giggling. “do you know me?”

jeonghan’s lip twitched, feeling almost embarrassed by not thinking of his own nametag, and definitely not an involuntary reaction to seeing you smile for the first time. “uh, yeah. we have a class together,” he said as casually as possible as he folded the washcloth in his hands. “visual culture.”

you nodded, looking into space for a moment. “hmm. weren’t you also in child psych with professor moon last winter?”

he blinked back at you. “yeah? you were in that class?”

you nodded, holding in a laugh. “yeah, yoon jeonghan. i was. head in the clouds?”

for some reason, the way you said his full name made his ears heat up. “maybe you were easy to forget,” he said dismissively, even though you both knew that wasn't the case. “isn’t it better to study in a library? that one’s free.”

“there’s never any open tables at the library,” you said, unfurling your legs and sitting straight, textbook in your lap. “and the chairs are uncomfortable, unlike this armchair. and people usually don’t bother me here.”

jeonghan sighed. “well, if you’re insistent on going to a cafe, there’s one down the street with a better espresso bean and it’s less busy. less people to bother you and a better tasting americano that you won’t drink.”

you cocked your head, closing your laptop. “is that an invitation?”

and for the first time, you saw jeonghan stutter. “n-no? just a suggestion. i think it’s cheaper, too-”

“don’t you work here?” you asked, eyes shining. “shouldn’t you be happy i’m wasting my money here?”

he eyed you, beginning to turn his body to leave the conversation. “do whatever you want. i’m not your dad.”

you grinned, leaning forward in your chair. “are you busy after class tomorrow?”

“why?”

“i need you to show me where this cafe is.”

jeonghan sighed. “can’t you just look it up? cafe nomu.” he wrote the characters with his finger in the air. “no-mu. use naver.”

“i get lost easily,” you said, standing up. jeonghan wondered if you were telling the truth. “we can go together?”

jeonghan watched you pack up your things, confused. “why?”

you paused, looking at him. “why not?”

he was getting real sick of people asking him why not.

“did i drive you away?” he asked instead, nodding at your now packed bag.

“no, i was headed out soon anyways.” you swung the bag over your shoulder and picked up the untouched americano. “do you want this?”

jeonghan couldn’t help but scoff as you handed him the glass that had been the subject of his staring all afternoon. “you can't be serious.”

you grinned and patted his shoulder. “i’m y/n, by the way. i’ll see you in class?”

he squinted at you as you walked away, suddenly confused by the quick succession of questions you had thrown back and forth. you were cute, sure, and his distaste for you was misplaced, perhaps, but he couldn't help the annoyance that bubbled up in him as you sauntered out of the cafe like you had won a debate. he walked back to the counter and set down the americano, an excited seokmin waiting for him.

“so?” he grabbed the glass and dumped it in the sink behind the counter. “how’d it go?”

jeonghan looked at the door you had left out of. “i think i just got asked out.”

“what?” seokmin’s hands made fists in front of him while he grinned. “y/n did? are you serious? you said yes, right?”

“not really,” he replied, looking back at the younger and exhaling deeply. “but i don’t think i can avoid it.”

you had known of yoon jeonghan for a while. a class here and there, a few mutual friends, and of course at the cafe. but the night you learned his name really stuck out to you, when he had been singing at a karaoke bar right after finals last quarter.

it was common to celebrate the end of finals week with partying and drinking, and your friends had invited you out to barhop until the sun came up. you started at a dance club, had way too much rum at a hula themed place, took tequila shots at a gay bar, then landed at a karaoke bar with a can of beer in your fist and a grin on your face. your friends liked to sing, so you had fun encouraging them to get on the slightly raised stage and show their chops. 

“no, no, no,” mingyu said, grabbing your hands as you tried to push him towards the dj. “no way, i recognize the names on the list. there’s real singers here.”

you looked at the screen that displayed the queue. “what do you mean? who?”

“that guy,” mingyu said, pointing at the screen easily, despite you having to crane your neck to even view it. “no way. he’s in jihoon’s band, i’m not following that guy.”

“hangguk’s angel yoon jeonghan,” you read, squinting. “sounds like a pretentious asshole.”

mingyu laughed. “wait til you hear his voice, you’ll see how he got the name.”

"y/n's right," jun interjected, leaning heavily against the standing table your quad squad had claimed, pouring more soju for himself and whoever would claim the other glass. "he is a pretentious asshole."

you pointed at him, brows raised at mingyu. "jun is never wrong."

mingyu rolled his eyes. "pretentious assholes can still sound like angels."

“where the fuck have you been,” you asked, startled by your third and final friend suddenly appearing beside you.

“around,” vernon said, sipping at the nondescript brown liquid in his glass through a bright pink straw. he laughed when you quirked an eyebrow at him. “soonyoung’s here with his posse, he caught me while i was getting another drink.”

“see!” mingyu shook your shoulder, nearly choking after downing jun’s companion shot. “i told you! jihoon’s band.”

you whacked his bicep. “who cares? just go queue a rap song or something, you pussy.”

the singers cycled through and you cheered on many of your fellow drunk university students as they sang with no remorse. jun dragged you onto the tiny dancefloor and forced you to help him hype up soonyoung - his dance team captain - as he screamed along to hurricane. then one of vernon's friends performed a near flawless rendition of shake it by sistar after yelling something about bringing the summer to this cold winter night, earning him a cheering and dancing crowd, and you had known far more of the choreo than you had thought. mingyu was whooping and hollering at you playfully every time you threw your ass out to the song, and he only got louder when jun and vernon did their best to follow along with you, and you had almost forgotten about the name that everyone insisted was to be feared.

“that guy?” you asked, the self-proclaimed angel stepping onto the stage. you recognized him immediately. “that’s my barista.”

mingyu made a noise that almost resembled whistling, if he had been capable of doing so. “i should start studying with you next quarter.”

and when he sang, it clicked. despite the tonal difference, you couldn't help but become enthralled by his voice. gyu was right. pretentious assholes could still sound like angels, and perhaps that was by design.

his voice drifted through your head again when you noticed him in your visual culture class, seated and giggling at his phone on the first day of the quarter. 

"you have another class with him?" mingyu groaned a week later, walking beside you. "why you? why aren’t there hot guys in my major?"

"because pre-med kids are too busy to be hot."

he gave you a look. "damn, okay. like, you're not wrong, but damn."

you rolled your eyes. "don't act like you don't love being the pre-med heartthrob. you would be pissed if you had competition."

"anyways, are you gonna ask him out?"

you pause at the stop light to wait for your turn to cross, turning towards him. "why would i do that?"

“because he’s hangguk’s angel yoon jeong-honey voice,” mingyu said, moving his head as he dramatically pronounced each syllable in your face. “if you’re not already in love with him, you will be soon, and it sounds like fate's trying to bring you together. didn’t you say he’s your barista?”

you rolled your eyes. “yeah, and his americanos suck now. i don’t even drink it when he makes them anymore.”

he looked at you with a cocked eyebrow. “what the hell? why do you still go there, then?”

you pouted. “it’s quiet and there’s a comfy armchair.”

weeks passed, and you continued to spot jeonghan in your class when you arrived, hearing the faint sound of his singing voice in your head. when he took your order at the cafe, he had a vague snottiness to his voice, and while you absolutely believed that this was the same person as the one you saw sing a soft love ballad with a sobering intensity at two in the morning, you still struggled to connect it to the one you watched run off the stage, immediately curling into himself and laughing with his friends in embarrassment.

you became more and more fascinated by yoon jeonghan as time passed, but his americanos continued to suck. so when he suggested a cafe with better espresso, you lit up. and when he got flustered, letting down his guard unintentionally, you lit up even more. that was the drunk, embarrassed boy you had seen, pink faced and giggling as he hid behind his friends.

jeonghan sat in his usual seat in class, anxiously glancing up at the door every time a group of people entered the lecture hall. when you arrived, your usual minute before the turn of the hour, he rubbed his palms against his sweats. the sweats that he had worn with the specific intention of making sure you didn't think he was trying too hard to look nice around you. despite that fact, part of him still felt annoyed that you were also dressed down, swimming in a hoodie several sizes too big for you. he tried to make sense of the sudden nerves he had, but not once did he consider they were because he thought you were disgustingly adorable.

instead of taking your usual spot, you marched right up to jeonghan’s table and grinned. “is this seat taken?”

he blinked at you. “yes.”

you laughed and slid into the seat beside him anyways, ignoring the dagger stare from a girl across the room that usually sat beside jeonghan silently. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“how do you expect me to react? you’ve never even smiled at me before yesterday.”

shrugging, you put your bag on the table and leaned back in your seat, assuming your usual position for this particular class. “you didn’t deserve it before yesterday.”

jeonghan wanted to argue with you, but the professor cleared his throat and introduced the subject of the lecture.

after only ten minutes, jeonghan could have sworn he heard you snoring. he poked your shoulder with his pen.

you looked over at him, eyebrow quirked. you mouthed a “what” at him.

he exhaled suddenly, mouth forming a vague smile more in disbelief than from being entertained. he seemed annoyed with you, despite the fact that he was the one interrupting your allocated meditation time. he leaned forward, turning his body towards you and spoke in a hushed tone. “how can you do that every day and still be top of the class?”

you mirrored his body language, leaning forward over the desk and resting your cheek on a fist, speaking in the same hushed tone. “visual culture is subjective. as long as you understand the concept; i-e, how we as humans visually design the world around us and how that becomes an important aspect of our place in nature, in the universe, in existence, etcetera; then you can write about literally anything. my last essay was about skate parks. the more opinionated the essay, the better score you get.” you pointed a finger at the man speaking at the front of the class. “i watched the prof’s ted talk before the quarter started - every lecture is just a regurgitation of the same concepts. it’s an easy a, as long as you have strong opinions.”

jeonghan stared at you for what felt like an eternity. “you do seem like you have strong opinions.”

“and you don’t, yoon jeonghan?”

he supposed he couldn’t argue with that, but it still frustrated him to no end that you had found some kind of loophole that he had missed. you gamed the system better than he could, and he had been stuck pouring over his friend’s notes from the previous quarter and bullshitting some essays about architecture that he didn't give a shit about. and so, instead of spending his whole class stewing like he normally did, he decided to waste no time adopting your approach, pulling his sweatshirt hood over his head and catching up on some missed sleep. when he woke up again, it was to your prodding finger.

“what time is it,” he said immediately, squinting at his surroundings. he suddenly remembered he was in class as he saw fellow students packing up their things and filing out. he looked at you, blinking at your grinning face.

“time for coffee,” you said, tugging on the drawstrings of the light blue hoodie he wore. “did you have any sweet dreams?”

jeonghan shoved his blank notebook into the tote bag he used for classes and stood. “of course not.”

“i did,” you said, throwing your bag over your shoulder and following him down the hall steps. “i dreamt you paid at the cafe.”

he turned, eyeing your shiteating grin from behind his hood. “yeah, keep dreaming.”

“worth a shot,” you said, trotting down beside him. “so, what’s your major, yoon jeonghan?”

he rolled his eyes, almost forgetting about your habit of calling him by his full name. “do you really care?”

“what else are we gonna talk about, my drinking problem?”

despite himself, jeonghan laughed, looking over at you as you left the lecture hall. “maybe! how bad is it?”

you grinned, feeling successful from making him break his serious persona. “wouldn’t you like to know.”

he clicked his tongue, pushing open the doors of the social studies building. “no fun.”

“you’ll have to invite me to a bar next time,” you said, following after him out the door into the sunshine that cascaded over the quad. it was a beautiful spring day, but a bit chilly, and you shoved your hands into your sweatshirt pocket.

“hmm,” jeonghan said, letting his blue hood fall off his head as he stretched in the sun. “i only really go to one bar.”

you watched him bask for a moment, wondering how many sides of him you had yet to see. his hair was dark, but the lighter chocolate tones reflected in the sun. “bet i can guess which one.”

jeonghan paused on the sidewalk, making you walk ahead of him a couple steps before you turned towards him questioningly. “okay, yeah. guess. you won’t get it.”

you size him up a moment, taking his words as a challenge. “if i guess right, you buy coffee?”

he exhaled, an amused smile on his face. “why are you so obsessed with me buying you coffee?”

“it tastes better free.”

“okay, fine. but if you’re wrong, you buy.”

you groaned. “do you know how many bars are in this city? that doesn’t seem fair.”

jeonghan resumed walking, gesturing for you to guess. “i’ll give you three tries.”

you chewed your cheek, trying to conceal your sly grin. “okay, three tries. deal?”

he nodded. you made it way too easy for him to win. “deal.”

“let me think.” jeonghan watched your feet fall easily into step beside him. “what bar has a stupid gimmick you would be into... pie bar?”

he shook his head, almost laughing at your teasing. “i’ve been there before, but it's not really my thing.”

you exhaled sharply. “shouldn’t that count for a stick of gum or something?” jeonghan laughed, insisting that this was an all or nothing situation. “then i give up.”

“you can’t give up!” jeonghan said. “you said deal. no going back.”

“fine," you pouted. "why can't i remember any bar names? uhh, r place?”

he stopped. “the gay club?”

you stopped, looking at him expectantly. “well?”

jeonghan laughed as he walked again. “no, not r place. jesus. you have one last chance. i’m really excited to order something expensive today.”

you chewed your cheek. “where would someone like yoon jeonghan go to drink… hanguk’s angel yoon jeonghan…”

he stopped in his tracks. “what did you just say?”

you tapped on your chin with a finger, arms crossed. “yoon jeong-honey voice… where would someone like him go? maybe… a karaoke bar?”

“hey, hey-” jeonghan pointed at you accusingly. “are you serious? you’ve seen me?”

“hmm,” you continued, laughing as you avoided his gaze. “oh, i know! the rockbox!”

“yah!” jeonghan was laughing, pointing at you in disbelief. “what the hell! this isn’t fair!”

“you said deal, no going back.” you grinned in victory. “wow, maybe i’ll order something expensive. i can’t believe i won.”

jeonghan’s tongue ran over his teeth as he watched you giggle and happily trot ahead of him. “fine, fine. you win. when did you see me there?”

“after winter finals,” you said, cheesing. “i was there with friends and you sang.”

he tutted. “damn. did i just miss you or did you not sing?”

“i don’t sing,” you said, smiling as he continued walking with you. “my friends do, though. and i was forced to be in soonyoung’s hype squad for hurricane.”

jeonghan clapped suddenly, remembering in his perhaps too drunk stupor that seungcheol had pointed you out, calling you “the cutie that keeps looking at him.” he had, admittedly, checked you out, despite the fact that he had been too embarrassed by his too-serious song to go and talk to you, and he had thought you looked familiar. “oh my god! yes! i did see you! how do you know soonyoung?”

“mutual friends,” you said. “chwe hansol?

he nodded. “we’ve met once, i think. were you there with junhui?”

“yeah, actually,” you said, remembering the opinion of jeonghan your friend had volunteered up for you. “how do you know him?”

“i haven’t talked to him a lot directly, but i know both his roommates pretty well,” jeonghan said. "we do music together.”

“ah, yes,” you nodded in recollection, but refusing to acknowledge how insanely pretentious it was of him to say something like we do music together. “jihoon’s unnamed but immensely prolific band.”

he rolled his eyes. “why is it jihoon’s band? why can’t it be jeonghan’s band?”

“don’t ask me,” you said, putting up hands in innocence. “i didn’t even know it existed until that night. mingyu wouldn’t shut up about it.”

the name sounded familiar to jeonghan, but he moved on as the two of you reached a stop light. “do you go there a lot? or was that a one time thing?”

you eyed him. “this is starting to sound like an invitation, hannie.”

he didn’t comment on the nickname, despite the weird way his arms tingled at it. “you should learn what an invitation actually sounds like. you tend to assume a lot.”

you laughed heartily, and jeonghan ignored the way his stomach flitted while you started to cross the street. “call it wishful thinking, but i think i get you, yoon jeonghan.”

“the hell is that supposed to mean?”

you never answered his question, but grinned instead, which gave jeonghan a sense of unease and a touch of curiosity. as he led you to cafe nomu, he caught himself smiling. laughing. enjoying your company and conversation.

maybe shua hadn’t been completely off base.

by the time jeonghan had realized that his feelings towards you might have evolved from vague malice into something more akin to genuine interest, he was pushing open the door to the cafe for you and mentally double checking that he had put on deodorant that morning, cursing his inability to control his own nerves. ah, he thought. that explained the weird feeling he got waiting for you in class, too. and why he got flustered the day before at his work. he only snapped out of his crowded mind when he heard you ordering an iced americano.

“and for you?”

jeonghan blinked at you, then at the barista that was addressing him. “make that two.”

“thank you for the coffee,” you said, pressing your hands together as he inserted his card.

he waved you off, chuckling, but kept his eyes as far from yours as he could. “a deal is a deal.”

you looked around the quiet cafe, quickly scoping out the seat options as jeonghan accepted the buzzer for your order. he thought it was a little silly, considering the two of you were half of the customers in the cafe currently, but said nothing as he turned it over in his fingers, standing next to you.

“there?” you asked, pointing at a table by a window.

jeonghan bit his cheek, thinking about how joshua would likely be walking down this street to go to his shift, if he had one. “yeah, wherever.”

you were already on your way to the seat when he responded, and he followed, dropping his bag off his shoulder to hang on the hook under the table.

“i thought you were going to get something expensive,” he teased, sitting across from you.

laughing lightly, you pulled your phone out of your hoodie pocket and set it on the table. “you said the espresso was good, i wanted to try it.”

“don’t you not like coffee?” jeonghan asked, squinting at you.

“i love coffee,” you said, quirking an eyebrow.

“then why don’t you drink the americanos i make?”

he was leaning forward, staring at you, fingers folding over each other on the table. you pouted, avoiding his eyes suddenly. “no reason.”

leaning back again, he kept a wary eye on you. “that’s convincing.”

“good, it’s the truth.”

jeonghan decided to put a pin in that interrogation in favor of asking you your major.

you laughed again, making a small smile appear on his face. "communications," you answered, despite thinking of how he denied the same question from you earlier.

he let out a low "wah" and cocked his head. "what's up with that? same major."

"really?" you leaned over the table. "what year are you?"

"third."

you put a peace sign next to your eye like you were posing for a photo. "second."

you couldn't help but giggle at the "pfft" that spilled out of jeonghan's lips as he laughed at you, muttering a "really" under his breath at your pose. he was running a hand through his extremely soft and fluffy looking hair when the buzzer went off, and you blinked yourself awake from your trance to nod after he said he would go get the drinks. 

admitting to it was the last thing you wanted, but you couldn’t help but hear mingyu’s voice rattling around your head, telling you that you would fall for jeonghan eventually. you had once thought he was completely up his own ass, but you kept getting glimpses of this really cute, really sweet version of him, and it made you want to get to know him better. additionally, it was getting harder to find people that would happily play along with your teasing, and he had no qualms teasing you right back.

when he returned with the americanos, you pressed your hands together in another thank you before taking a sip. he slid back into his seat and looked at you expectantly. "well? what do you think?"

you paused a moment, appraising the flavor. "delicious. thank you."

after he sipped at his own, he nodded. "the beans here are really good. balanced. i wish i could convince my boss to source better stuff."

you watched him sip again, letting out a praise under his breath. you sighed. "i have a confession."

his eyebrows quirked at you, and he did his best to not show the way his stomach flipped. "what kind?"

"i don't drink your americanos because they're shit."

there was silence as he processed your words, and you wondered if you had royally fucked up by saying something. suddenly, he was laughing, and you stared at him in shock as he calmed down. "oh my god, yeah, they are."

"wait, you know?"

"i-" jeonghan paused, rubbing his face, still laughing. "god, this is so stupid. i burn your shots."

your jaw dropped open, but a smile creeped across your face as you understood. "wait, on purpose?"

"you never smile!" he attempted to explain himself with a bit too much enthusiasm, finding his own pettiness ridiculous in hindsight. "not even when i smiled at you. i had a grudge. i'm sorry."

you were sipping your non-burnt americano with a sly look on your face. you wanted to be mad at the wasted money on countless gross americanos, but somehow, you couldn't be. "do you hold grudges against everyone or am i just lucky?"

"uh, depends," jeonghan said, crossing his arms and thinking. "when the prof that failed my roommate comes in, i burn his shots, too. i think he might like it that way, though, because he's always really nice to me."

you almost snorted. "well, you owe me a lot of coffee."

he nodded and sighed, resigning to his fate. "when you come in, your coffee's on me. and i won't burn it this time."

you pouted a second, and jeonghan barely caught it, but he thought the expression was far too cute. "i was hoping you would invite me out again."

"again?" he asked, letting a few 'ha's fall from his lips in quick succession. "you mean for the first time?"

you gestured to the cafe you sat in. "was this not your idea?"

he rolled his eyes. "you invited yourself out and held me hostage."

"does that mean you have stockholms?"

he laughed at the diagnosis, remembering the class you claimed you had both taken the year before. "you're a very charming captor."

you smiled at the compliment, despite the sinister implication.

the next time you saw jeonghan, it was saturday. you had rolled out of bed far earlier than you had intended to when you had fallen asleep at 4 am after a very drunk and extremely conflict heavy game of uno with the guys. you winced at the sunlight streaming through your shitty dorm blinds, fumbling your way to the water dispenser on your desk to rehydrate.

you stared at your roommate's empty bed, remembering they had said they worked early shifts this weekend as you brushed your teeth, and you wondered how they had dealt with you stumbling into the dorm in the wee hours of the day.

you almost gagged on your toothbrush. an empty room on a saturday morning with too little sleep and a nasty hangover, you thought. bad decisions could never be made under these circumstances.

"does jeonghan's cafe do breakfast sandwiches?" you thought aloud with a mouth full of toothpaste, leaning over the sink to spit. you kind of remembered seeing them on the menu, though you never thought to get anything beyond the occasional muffin. maybe today was the day.

after washing your face and cleaning up your hair a bit, you had to dig in your clothes to find your favorite pair of black sweats and a shirt to tuck in. you last minute decided to bring your good headphones, just in case hanguk's angel wasn't there to bug, and ran out the door with your wallet and phone, a pair of sunglasses shoved onto your face.

the walk to his cafe is short from the dorms you lived in, which was another reason you liked it there. it was warmer than it had been during the week, and you watched a big muscular dog running alongside its owner. before long, you were tugging open the door, seeing no line. you grinned at how lucky you were as you pulled your headphones down to your neck.

"yoon jeonghan! you are working!"

he seemed startled by your voice, his shoulders raising slightly as he turned towards the door. "oh, what the hell? what are you doing here at 9:30 on a saturday?"

you pouted, walking up to the counter and tugging off your sunglasses. "are you not happy to see me?"

his laugh was genuine and completely out of his control. "sure i am. nice eyebags."

that, you noted, was the first time jeonghan had ever greeted you with a smile, and it seemed appropriate that it was paired with an insult. "thanks, i'm violently hungover right now." you said, noticing your best friend's roommate standing further back behind the counter, pretty obviously pretending to not be listening to you.

"do you wanna redeem a free americano?" he asked, poking at the touchscreen register.

you hummed, crossing your arms and staring at the menu board. "not today, i wanna try a latte. something tasty, and something for breakfast. what do you think?"

jeonghan stared at you, and you stared back, a small smile on your face. he blinked. "have you ever tried lavender?"

"lavender?" you shook your head, genuinely surprised. "is that a good flavor?"

he nodded, looking down at the screen and adding items to your order. "we have this seasonal syrup that we make in house," he said. "it's my favorite one of the year. honey, lavender, and vanilla bean. big one?"

you blinked at the cup sizes, trying to remember how many bottles of soju you had bought the night before, and subsequently how much money was left in your account. "uh, yeah."

"will you be offended if i give you a vegetarian sandwich? it's the best one."

you cocked your head. "i mean, if it's the best one…"

jeonghan smiled slightly, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket. "it's the best one. and it's my secret hangover cure."

you noticed his card too late. "hey, what are you doing?"

he quirked an eyebrow at you. "buying your coffee. like i said i would."

"that was way more than an americano."

"and i've burned way more than an americano," jeonghan reminded you. "and if you don't accept that, i'm buying you breakfast as a peace offering."

your eyebrows raised. "a peace offering?" 

he avoided your gaze. "i've decided you're not a pretentious asshole."

you laughed at his word choice, and how it mirrored your own. "i mean, i can be kind of pretentious sometimes. and a major asshole a lot of the time."

jeonghan grinned. "me too."

he washed his hands and passed along the sandwich order to his coworker as he moved to the espresso machine, briefly explaining to you that he was completely useless with food as soon as a heat source becomes involved, but assured you that seokmin was a master with a turbochef, and that your sandwich was in the best hands.

you giggled, watching his hands as he found a squeeze bottle and shot the contents into a glass. "i trust you."

his eyes flicked to you briefly, and you leaned against the drink pickup counter, squinting at the syrup. he held the glass that would soon be your drink up for you. "see the specs? real vanilla."

you hummed. "it smells good."

"it tastes like sunshine, i swear to god."

your eyes followed his hands as he expertly filled and packed the portafilter with fresh grounds. he felt you watching him, and did his best to suppress the itch to fumble. you watched him not burn your shots, stirring them with the syrup and pouring milk from a jug. he added ice, put a metal straw in the tall glass, then placed it on the counter in front of you.

you made sure to smile when you told him thank you, and jeonghan was pretty sure he would have collapsed from how cute he found you if he had slightly less resolve. 

"veggie sando for… y/n?" seokmin announced to the cafe, eyes creasing into a laugh as he appeared with a plate.

you gave seokmin a nervous smile. "sorry for staying over so late. i didn't know you worked this morning."

jeonghan looked between you suspiciously as seokmin assured you it was fine, claiming he was knocked out by midnight and didn't even know when you left. who did seokmin live with again? jeonghan chewed on his cheek as he put your drink and sandwich on a tray.

your eyes flicked over to the front counter as a few customers entered the cafe, seokmin already heading over to greet them and begin the order. you tried not to let your disappointment show when you told jeonghan you should probably let him get back to work. he tried to not let his show, either, when he nodded in agreement. neither of you did a great job.

"someone's clocking on in half an hour, i can take a break then. don't leave?"

his almost pleading tone made your lip twitch upward. "don't act so clingy, hannie."

he grinned, then stopped you before you picked up the tray. "first- hang on," he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it, quickly going to the keypad as he looked over his shoulder at the customers. "give me your number."

your eyes met his briefly as you took the phone, quickly punching in your digits and tapping to add yourself to his contacts. he smiled at the profile name - "americano" - as you picked up your tray and headed to your favorite armchair. even as he was making other drinks and serving other customers, he couldn't take his eyes off you, sitting in your armchair with your headphones on. it had only been two days since he saw you last, but he hadn't thought of anything but you the entire time. he had almost considered asking shua to swap shifts with him so he could have a chance of seeing you the day before, but he knew his coworker would refuse to take the saturday opening shift. he spent his whole afternoon off sitting on the couch in his apartment, staring at the back of his roommate's chair, trying to figure out why he didn't ask for your number.

"hey," jihoon said, and jeonghan had only then noticed that his roommate had spun his tall cushioned chair around to look back at him. "i said, do you know when seungcheol invited people around tomorrow?"

jeonghan stared at him for a second, then sighed dramatically, rubbing his eye. 

"woah," the younger laughed and leaned back in his seat. "who'd you sleep with last night? i need to warn them you're crazy."

"no one," jeonghan pouted. "what the hell? i'm not crazy."

"hyung, i say this with the most respect i can," he said, leaning forward. "you're batshit, especially when you catch feelings for a one night stand."

"ugh, whatever," jeonghan pushed the pillow off his lap and ran a hand through his hair. "we didn't even do anything."

jihoon squinted at him a moment. "okay, hang on, i feel like our definitions of not doing anything are different."

he rolled his eyes. "we didn't do anything," he repeated, standing from the couch and walking over to the kitchen to get water. "like, nothing. we didn't even touch each other. not once."

jihoon looked around, trying to understand what he meant. "i'm confused. you didn't touch your one night stand?"

"it wasn't a one night stand!" jeonghan threw a dagger glare at the other before he drank his water, muttering a "really" beneath his breath.

jihoon's face didn't change. "so… you went on a date?"

jeonghan swallowed the water hard, putting the glass down on the counter and leaning against it. "kinda."

"you are really not making this easy for me at all."

"we got coffee," he said finally. "we have a class together, and we made a stupid bet over who would pay, and they fucking tricked me, so i had to pay for it and we talked for, like, a stupid long time, and i think i actually really…" he exhaled, both hands rubbing his face. "i think i really like them."

jihoon whistled. "i just wanna say before the moment passes that it is incredibly on brand for you to fall for someone because they conned you into buying them coffee."

jeonghan glared at the younger, but he couldn't argue. "we got coffee and talked and then they just…" his palms faced the sky as he gestured, shoulders raised. "they just left. i didn't even get their number."

"okay, and?" jihoon swivelled back and forth in his chair. "you have a class together. you'll literally see them next week."

he groaned, pressing his forehead against the fridge. "but i wanna see them now."

and now, he was seeing you. much sooner than he had expected, yet not soon enough. the saturday morning rush began to pick up, and even when an additional barista arrived, jeonghan wondered if he would actually be able to slip away for a break.

"go ahead," seokmin said, grabbing the steamed milk pitcher from his hand. "me and hyejoo can handle it for a minute."

jeonghan looked at the shrinking line and nodded, quickly pulling off his apron as he walked around the counter. he knew he didn't have a lot of time, and pulling up a chair seemed silly, so he instead just squatted and folded his arms over the arm of your favorite seat.

you looked up from your phone at the motion, pulling your headphones off and grinning. "hey! the drink is delicious and extremely not burnt."

he smiled, noticing it was almost gone. "i'm glad! it's still busy, so i can't really take a proper break, but i wanted to ask you something."

you squinted at him. "what kind of something?"

"do you have plans tonight?"

"depends," you said, turning your body to face him better as you sucked on your cheek. "what's going on?"

jeonghan exhaled, amused. "my roommate is having people over for a few drinks or something, it'd be cool if you came by?"

you looked at a light, gauging the state of your hangover. your voice almost cracked when you asked "tonight?"

"you don't have to drink," he said, remembering what you had told him earlier. "and you can, like, bring a friend if you want. i know it's weird that i'm inviting you to my place."

you thought a moment. "don't you live with lee jihoon?"

jeonghan blinked. "uh, yeah?"

"i'll bring a friend," you said, tapping your fingers on the back of your phone. you looked back to him and smiled. "text me details?"

jeonghan stood. "yeah, i'll text you," he said, glancing up at the door where more customers were walking in. "fuck, i should go."

you followed his gaze. "i think i'll stick to weekdays. this place gets crazy on the weekends."

"tell me about it." he started to walk back to the counter. "i'll talk to you later?"

you smiled and nodded at him, and you waved enthusiastically at him as you were headed out about ten minutes later.

"i'm still waiting for a text," you teased, peeking over the counter as he made a drink.

he laughed. "i'll get to it when i get to it."

"thanks for the sandwich, seokmin! it was delicious!"

seokmin waved at you with a big grin and you looked back at jeonghan.

"i'll see you tonight?"

he nodded, a smug smile teasing his lips. "yeah, i'll see you tonight."

you didn't show the way your stomach flipped when he made eye contact with you, but you slid your sunglasses back on and put your headphones back on your head, and walked to the rhythm of love songs in the sun on your way to your friend's apartment, a stupid childish giggle threatening to surface the entire time.

"hey, is mingoo around?"

minghao blinked at you, standing at his front door with a smile on your face. "dude, you left like four hours ago. what are you even doing here."

"uh, no, myungho, i left like seven hours ago, get it right." he let you walk past him into the apartment. "is he still asleep?"

"is that actually a question?"

you trotted into mingyu's room, humming along to the song playing through the headphones around your neck as you pulled open his blinds.

"god, what the fuck," his rough voice went behind you. "the hell is wrong with you. go home."

"that's not a very nice way to treat the person that's gonna set you up with your future ex-husband."

mingyu's hair stuck in several different directions and his eyes were still squeezed shut, but he had pushed himself off his pillow enough for you to know you caught his attention. "which one?"

you grinned. "the one with the pretty voice."

"wait," mingyu fumbled with his comforter as he tried to sit up. "wait, hang on. jihoon?" you laughed and nodded as he sniffed noisily. "he is not my future ex-husband, y/n. he's it. he's the one that's gonna make an honest woman out of me."

"well, lady, get ready to be honest, because i got an invite to a kickback at his apartment tonight and i snagged a plus one."

he squinted at you. "what's the catch?"

you rolled your eyes. "there isn't always a catch. maybe i'm just trying to be nice."

"yeah, uh huh." mingyu flopped back onto his bed, rubbing his eyes. "why didn't you just text me or something? it's so early."

"it's like, barely morning."

"it's ten."

you exhaled. "it's 11:17, asshole. are you going with me or not?"

mingyu groaned and flopped around, his head aching from the drinks that had stopped too recently. "when?"

"uhh," you stalled as you checked your phone. no new messages. "not sure yet. i'm waiting on a text."

he squinted at you. "who's texting you? soonyoung?"

you shrugged. "sure."

"oh my god, it's jeonghan, isn't it?"

"whaaaaaat?" you deadpanned, walking over to mingyu's bed to sit on the edge, staring at your phone. "why would i be waiting on a text from that loser?"

"i knew you were acting stupid yesterday for a reason," he accused. "and you asked jun what his deal was. you like him, don't you? what did he do? did he corner you?"

"absolutely not," you said, sighing and throwing your phone down on his bed, slightly offended by him saying you were acting stupid but truly not being able to remember if he was wrong. "i cornered him, at his workplace, no less. then i made him buy me coffee. then i showed up to his workplace, again, incredibly hungover, and he still asked for my number."

mingyu's lips formed a pout as he hummed, rubbing his eye again. "never would have pegged jeonghan as the simping type, but sure."

"shut up," you laughed, and mingyu whined about whether or not you had washed your hands when you plopped your palm against his face. he pushed your wrists away. "do you still have that bottle of white wine?"

"you mean the one hao refuses to drink even though i spent good money on it for his fucking birthday? yeah, why?"

you grabbed your phone again, despite it not vibrating. "it'd probably make a good first impression if you bring a nice bottle to the kickback you were last minute invited to. i bet jihoon will be so impressed by your manners."

mingyu blinked heavily. "you're devious. what about you?"

"i don't need a good first impression," you said. "i already made an awful one and he still likes me."

he sighed. "you always have been a charming dickhead."

you grinned at your best friend. "thanks, babe."

mingyu groaned against his palms. "god, fuck, i was supposed to study for my exam today."

you clicked your tongue. "that sucks dick."

"you suck dick."

you pouted out your lips when you got a text from an unknown number. "i'm trying."

you hadn't fully decided yet how you were going to make sure jeonghan really liked you, especially after jun regaled his "disgusting sexcapades," as he described them. you took his words with a grain of salt, considering the guy had an extremely low opinion of him from the get go, but either way, could you really blame jeonghan for putting his incredibly good looks and charm to use?

you, however, found flings incredibly uninteresting. most of the men that went after you were dull at best, and definitely would have fallen for any stupid prank you had played on them. with jeonghan, though, there was a challenge. there was always the chance he would out-trick you. it was new and exciting. playing with people, you decided, was only fun when there were some stakes involved.

inviting you to have drinks at his place seemed like such a transparent ploy to get laid, but you couldn't help but expect more from him. something told you he knew that you wouldn't be that easy, and you wondered what his game was.

i think i'm here >

which apartment was it? >

you definitely could have scrolled up in your conversation with jeonghan to check, especially since mingyu was complaining next to you on the street outside the apartment building, but you preferred the power move of asking again. you hadn't considered, though, that jeonghan was absolutely the type to know exactly what you were trying as soon as he saw the notification and make you wait. you squinted at the window that clearly had a party going on inside of it, willing the boy to respond.

"bro, it's apartment 2-b. soonyoung says he's 'the b in 2-b' like, every chance he gets. let's just go up."

"hang on, i'm plotting," you said, putting up a finger and scrolling through your contacts.

mingyu groaned as you put the phone to your ear, pressing the cold wine bottle against his eye. "you are the most annoying person i've ever met."

"yet you ask me to hang out constantly."

mingyu glared at you with his uncovered eye. "i also watch a lot of shit television, so don't take my taste as gospel."

inside, soonyoung patted down his pockets when he heard his ringtone, then looked at the kitchen counter where he had left it when he was making drinks. he grinned wide when he saw the contact info and practically yelled when he answered the phone. "y/n! please tell me you're finally coming over?"

jeonghan heard your name, his head whipping towards the sound. he stared at soonyoung, phone to his ear as he laughed into it, and he exhaled when he realized what you had done. he looked down at the ignored notification on his phone, his thought process being that you would call as it became more urgent.

and you had, just not him. he cursed under his breath. you were always one step ahead.

"yeah, second floor! come on up, i'll meet you at the stairs!"

jeonghan watched soonyoung shove his feet into a pair of slides and exit the apartment, then quickly downed the rest of his drink. he was gonna need an excuse to ask if you wanted one.

you followed soonyoung down the hall as he excitedly chattered about how he didn't know you were coming.

mingyu laughed. "yeah, we didn't either. y/n got an invite from jeonghan this morning."

"jeonghan?" soonyoung looked at you. "i didn't know you knew each other."

"i enjoy being a mystery," you said, checking quickly to see if your message had been seen yet.

soonyoung couldn't help but laugh at the idea of you and his roommate, especially with a few drinks in him. "you definitely suit each other."

jeonghan hadn't lied when he said people were coming over for drinks, but he had definitely made it seem much smaller than it was. the living area had enough people that you didn't want to bother counting, but probably somewhere in the twenties. there was music playing, but the conversational chatter was still audible over the beat, and people were laughing with each other on just about every surface you could see. you noticed jihoon by the kitchen counter as you were taking off your shoes, and grabbed mingyu's arm to face him towards you.

"jesus, fuck," he stumbled over his own shoes. "why do i hang out with you?"

"he's in the kitchen and he's alone," you said, your fingers digging into his bicep. "now's your chance. ask him where you should put the wine."

mingyu peeked over his shoulder, then looked back at you with wide eyes. "are you serious? right now?"

"right now," you reassured. "you got this, big guy. you're hot, smart, and tall. say you like his music and blow his mind."

he exhaled, his lips forming an o, and shook his hand nervously. "okay. okay. thank you. i love you. i'm sorry i ever called you annoying."

you laughed, smacking his arm. "love you too, goo."

he shut his eyes and spun, walking towards the boy of his affections. you watched him for a moment, though slyly, as you wandered into the party. you wondered where soonyoung had gone so quickly, then clenched your fist in victory when you saw jihoon get wine glasses out of a cupboard and laughed at something mingyu said.

"oh, y/n!" you spun to the familiar voice, spotting jeonghan leaning against a wall casually, half engaged in a conversation. he pushed off it as you closed the short space between you. "you made it! why didn't you tell me you were here?"

"i did," you said, cocking your head at him. "but you probably knew that."

a sideways smile creeped onto his face. "hey, are you drinking tonight? i don't wanna tempt your self proclaimed alcoholism, but i've been sitting on an empty drink for a while, i could make you one too."

you eyed the red cup in his hand. "what's on the menu?"

"paloma," he said, lifting the cup. "but i can make you something else."

you thought for a second, then looked at him. you hadn't had tequila since the night you saw him sing. "i trust your taste."

he tilted his head as he moved, gesturing for you to follow him to the kitchen. you nudged mingyu with your hip as you settled against the counter next to him to watch jeonghan make a drink for you. he looked down at you, then put an arm on your shoulder as he sipped the wine he had brought, and you noticed jihoon had a matching glass. you smiled proudly.

"mingyu?" jeonghan asked, gesturing.

you nodded, then looked up at your best friend. "this is jeonghan," you said, pointing.

mingyu smiled at him. "good luck with this one. jihoon, this is my worst friend, y/n."

"i'm also the reason he's here," you said, leaning forward to direct the speech at boy you were being introduced to. "you're welcome."

jihoon looked at you, mouth parted into an almost smile. his eyes went to jeonghan, remembering their conversation the day before, then to mingyu again, who was covering his eyes with a palm in embarrassment. "this is why they're my worst friend."

jeonghan laughed, pulling your attention back as he popped open a soda with a bottle opener. "so you're like this with everyone?"

"i’m sure i don't know what you mean," you quipped, sliding out from mingyu's arm to grab the bottle and inspect the label. "jah…ritos?"

"jarritos," jeonghan corrected, pronouncing the h sound. "mexican grapefruit soda. it's the best for palomas."

"see, this is why people think you're a prick," you said, putting the bottle back on the counter. "you get fancy soda specifically for your fancy cocktails."

he just laughed at you as he poured tequila from a bottle into two cups of ice. "if i cared what people thought, i would have changed my ways years ago."

you let that marinate for a moment, then decided the two of you were much more similar than you had originally thought. he grabbed the bowl of cut lime wedges that seungcheol had prepared and squeezed two into each cup, and you watched as he topped the drinks with the soda.

"can you handle heat?"

you looked at him. "that's a loaded question."

he laughed again, and you wondered how many palomas he had before you arrived. "i like chili on the lime, but i wanted to be nice and ask before i did it for you, too."

"i'll try anything once."

then you tried it again.

and again.

jeonghan really was charming, you thought. and pretty. and he had a lovely voice.

at some point, soonyoung found you again, just to waggle his eyebrows at jeonghan when he thought you weren't looking, and you got introduced to seungcheol, who you both recognized and were recognized by. jeonghan rolled his eyes and shoved him away when he gave him a look, remembering how he described you at the bar ages ago.

you barely even noticed the time passing, but your drinks kept draining and you kept accepting more, and you wondered if you were really stupid enough to say yes if he asked you to join him in his bedroom tonight. but the more jeonghan talked, the more you were kind of okay with the idea.

"do you wanna get out of here?"

you blinked, chin in your palm and elbow on the counter, face inches from jeonghan's as he put down his cup. "and go where?"

he pouted as he thought. "i could really go for tteokbokki right now."

at that moment, you decided jeonghan really liked you. you grinned. "that sounds so good."

he smiled back at you, and you didn't comment on the way his eyes lingered on your lips, even if you really wanted to. "better tell your chaperone."

you rolled your eyes at the title mingyu had given himself earlier when he was trying to convince you to not take a fourth drink. "don't let his stupid height trick you, he's more of a lightweight than me."

"at least you don't have to worry about him, jihoon would never try anything. the poor guy is so shy, he was probably flustered just when mingyu said hi."

you quirked an eyebrow at him. "does he have to worry about me?"

jeonghan laughed. "if i wanted to get you drunk, i would have poured heavier."

"speaking of," you said, tipping your cup. "this one suspiciously tasted like not tequila."

he stood suddenly, palms on the counter, trying to force down the blush on his ears. "if you're gonna complain about every drink i make you, maybe you should stop asking for them."

you giggled, standing and imitating his stance. "just admit you care about me, yoon jeonghan."

he looked at you, a smile teasing his lips. "only after you admit you're in love with me."

you squinted. "a draw."

he grinned. "tteokbokki?"

[emilyoftheshadows]

Aside peasant! I came to see your cats, not you.

Hello everyone! I have been a bit absent lately form tumblr, but life hits you like a truck. I have come back with another fluffy rowaelin drabble based on the prompt above. I hope you guys enjoy :)

wordcount // 1204

**********

Aelin’s phone buzzed from under the mess she had created around herself. The sound disrupted her train of thought, causing her to glance away from the bright laptop screen set on her lap. Her day had consisted of nothing but staring at that bright screen in front of her, adding on to the mass of writing she had started only hours before. Aelin had managed to push off her mid- term paper with the skill of a trained procrastinator with years of experience. The paper was on a topic she truly cared about, the issue of misrepresentation of women in the film industry, but her motivation had been slim pickings and time had passed her by at an alarming rate. With 1 hour and 32 minutes before midnight, Aelin was typing like her life depended on it. Quite frankly, it did.

The assignment was more than important for Aelin and determined a good chunk of her grade that semester. With her nerves on edge, she had barred Rowan from the apartment all day to avoid further distraction. One heated glance, or the brush of his arm against hers as he sat down next to her and she knew it would all be over. So with a quick peck on the lips and some minor shoving, Aelin had sent Rowan out for the day to do anything but be at their apartment.

 As she tried to retrieve her phone from the piles of pillows, blankets, papers, and pens sprawled out on her couch, Mango pounced on her hand, ready to attack the source of sound. All day he had pranced about Aelin’s work area sniffing papers, batting at the air, and occasionally napping next to her leg. The fat cat was dumb as a rock, but Aelin was more fond of him than she cared to admit. His purring eased her nerves and provided a short relief to her stress. She shooed the bastard off of her hand though, finally grasping the phone stuck between the blankets tangled around her lower body. 

 For a quick moment, she debated whether or not to answer the call. Her communication with Rowan had been sparse all day and she didn’t have the time to sooth his anxieties about her own until after midnight. But, as Mango plopped down on her lap once more ready to be loved, Aelin decided this call would be her short break for the rest of the night. 

Rowan’s face popped onto her screen, a scowl already present on his beautiful face. Without even talking, Aelin knew she was in the dog house. 

 “Baby, why haven’t you been answering me? I sent you texts about lunch, coffee, and dinner that you haven’t answered. Have you eaten at all today?”

 Rowan knew her too well, because she hadn’t eaten now that she thought about it. There was a possibility that she had scarfed down some crackers earlier, but Aelin couldn’t recall whether the memory was true or not. Her buzzard was being a helicopter boyfriend, with good intentions, but she couldn’t have him come home ready to argue and distract her further in the process. 

 “I know, I’m sorry babe. I am so stressed right now and time slipped by me all day and I never got the chance to eat.”

 Rowan started to react to her statement, mouth opened wide in an attempt to argue but Aelin butted in again. 

 “Stop, stop I know. Here’s the deal: you go get takeout for two as a late dinner, you come home silently and go eat by yourself while I multi-task and continue to finish the paper that is now due in 1 hour and 15 min thanks to this conversation, then after I submit we talk about today and I apologize for my bad habits. Sound good?” Aelin knew she was being a bit snappy, but Rowan was a big boy and knew her moods for what they were. 

 “Okay baby, sounds good but can I add one more thing to that deal?”

 Curious, Aelin tilted her head to encourage his next statement.

 “I get the bastard too until you're done with your work.” 

 Aelin looked down at the orange and white lump in her lap, purring with content as she stroked his ears in a constant rhythm. Ironically, Rowan had been hesitant about Aelin bringing her cat when they moved in together all those months ago. But they both knew that Aelin and Mango were a packaged deal, you got all or nothing. So, Rowan had bitten his tongue and gotten ready to deal with the hell that was a cat. As time had gone on though, the two boys had gotten along better than expected until Rowan was a full blown cat dad, buying Mango special mouse toys from the local pet shop in Terresan. 

 Because of this budding relationship, Aelin wasn’t surprised that this was his only demand. As much as she hated to give Mango up, Aelin would do whatever she had to get Rowan out of her hair when he got back.

 Looking back at the screen, Aelin wanted to wipe that smug smile off of his face. Instead, she responded with a short "fuck you" instead. As Rowan’s emerald eyes lit up and laughter rumbled out of his chest, Aelin smiled back and hung up the phone. Mango watched with wide eyes as she set her phone down, woken up by the abrupt noises. With a few good kisses to his head, Aelin lifted him unceremoniously off her lap so she could replace him with the computer once more. 

 Aelin began to type and revise, once again losing track of the time. The paper was almost done as she heard the keys jingle in the lock. With one more read through for mistakes, all she had to do was submit and her personal hell would finally be over. As the door opened, Aelin snatched the fatass from his perch on the couch arm and attempted to hide him behind her body. 

 The door swung open, Rowan appearing with his keys in one hand and their food in the other. Aelin smiled at the sight before her. With his casual joggers and raggedy gray t-shirt, he still took her breath away every time. As Rowan turned back around to set their food down on the table in front of her, Aelin opened up her arms for a hug. 

 "Hey babe come here I mi-" Rowan cut her off mid sentence, determined to get his part of the deal and go hide to eat his dinner. 

 "Aside peasant! I came to see your cat, not you." Rowan towered over her, grabbing the pudgy animal from the hiding spot behind her back. As he whisked the cat away from the room, his food container in the other arm, Rowan turned around and winked at Aelin from her position on the couch. 

 How dare he. Well if that's how he wanted to be tonight , Aelin could dish out what she was served. This little game Rowan started was about to get intense, but before she could torture the man chowing down Chinese food in their kitchen, Aelin needed to finish this damn paper. 

 taglist: 

@rowaelinismyotp

@morganofthewildfire

@throneofmak

@whimsicallyreading

[rowyn-writes]

Cinnamon and Sugar

Chapter Three

Warnings: language, fluff, mentions of a toxic relationship, small angst

Characters: Dean, Reader, Benny Lafitte (mentioned only)

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Dean let you sit in his car until the rain let up a bit. "God, I hate the rain." He grumbled.

"I love it." You whisper, your eyes wandering the parking lot. "When I was younger, and there was a thunderstorm, me and my siblings would make a fort and huddle underneath it together. We loved it when the power would go out. We would light candles and grab flashlights and play board games in the dark. Sometimes Andrew would read to us. But uh - it would be scary stories," You smiled. "He would scare the ever living crap out of us. Lena and Josh would would cuddle into my side, no matter how much I hated it, they would still do it."

"You really love your siblings." Dean noted, swallowing hard, memories of Sam flooding his head.

"I do." You nodded. "They're all I have. Sure, I have my parents, but it's not the same, you know? Growing up, my siblings and I fought like dogs and cats, but we knew each other better than anyone, even our parents. Even when I go months without seeing them, when we all get together, it's like we're still little kids, ya know? We goof around, we argue, we joke. It's like none of us ever grew up."

Dean stayed silent for a moment, and you weren't sure if your message was getting across. "Look, I know we don't know each other very well, but what I'm trying to say is, call your brother. I don't know what happened between you two, but it's obvious that you love him. You shouldn't waste all your time worrying about whether you should contact him first or if he's angry with you. Time is a precious thing and people often waste it."

"Damn, you're wise." Dean gave a quiet chuckle. "But you're right. I will call him soon, I'm just not ready yet." And with that, the Impala was enveloped in silence again. That is, until Dean's stomach let out a loud rumble. "Sorry," He apologized with a sheepish grin.

"Don't worry about it." You shrugged. "It looks like the rains letting up. Do you want to come inside and I can fix you some food?"

"Oh, I don't want to impose." He shook his head.

"Nonsense. You gave me a ride home, this is the least I can do."

Dean silently debated whether or not he should take you up on the offer, but ultimately agreed, seeing as he was starving. By the time you were under cover, you were both soaked.

As soon as you opened the door to your apartment, you were met with a warm blast of heat. A pleasant shiver ran down your spine.

You began to click your tongue, calling out for your moody cat. "Storm, c'mere buddy." Your cat glared at you stubbornly from his place on the window seal. You rolled your eyes, slipping off your jacket and hanging it over the back of the chair.

"Sorry," You apologized to Dean. "My cat's being a little bitch." The man let out a laugh at your comment. "I gave him a bath and clipped his claws yesterday; now he's pissed at me."

"How in the hell do you cut a cat's nails?" He questioned, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Very carefully." You noticed that Dean was shivering. "Let me grab you a towel. I think I have some of my exes clothes. You're about the same size."

He was going to object when you silenced him with a look. You went to your room and began rummaging around in your draws, eventually finding a pair of black sweat pants and a grey hoodie.

"Try this," You said, handing Dean the clothes. "They should fit. You can change in the bathroom; it's the first door on the right."

While Dean went to change, you did the same. You exited your bedroom dressed in a pair of black leggings and a UK sweatshirt.

You noticed that Dean still wasn't out yet, so you went to start some food. You contemplated on what you should cook before ultimately deciding that mac and cheese would do. It was a comfort food, after all.

It would take a bit longer than usual, since you were making it from scratch, but Dean had said earlier that he had nowhere to be.

"Smells good in here." Dean noted when he walked out of the bathroom. Seeing him in Michael's clothes made your heart stop for a second, and not in a good way.

Dean and Michael had many similarities, the hair color, height, demeanor, etc. And you didn't want to be reminded of that man.

"Thanks," You said nonchalantly. "It's nothing special, but I thought you'd like it."

"So," Dean started, leaning against the counter. "This is a nice little set up you've got here."

"It's not much, but it's home." You shrugged as you stir the pot of noodles. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Storm sneaking around the corner of the kitchen, hoping for some food or a treat.

"How long have you lived here?" Dean asked.

"About five years." You informed him. "Ever since I turned eighteen I've been living on my own."

"How come?"

"You know the thing parents always say? 'As long as you live in my house, you follow my rules'? Well, I didn't like their rules so I got myself this apartment and I've lived here ever since."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, my old man was like that too. I actually did the same thing as you did. 'Cept I came back 'bout a week later." He laughed. "I was too dependent on my dad and brother. I have never lived alone before then; and to be honest, I hate living by myself. I still do."

"You never got roommates?"

"I had a few. There was Mick and Cas. Of course, I can't forget Benny." He grinned. "But they're all gone now."

"Benny?" You mumbled. "As in Benny Lafitte?"

"Yeah, why? You know him?"

"Do I?" You rolled your eyes. "That idiot's my cousin."

"Really?" Dean said excitedly. "I haven't heard from him in ages, how's he doing?"

"He's loving by the coast, and the last I heard, he met some girl named Andrea and he is head over heels in love."

"That's great." Dean smiled. "I really happy for him."

"Yeah, I expect to get an invitation to his wedding so enough. The way he talks about her, you would think he's known her his entire life."

"That's sweet. Benny seems like the guy that falls hard after one date."

"Oh yeah, he definitely is." You giggle. "He calls me after one date and says, 'Y/N, I think I'm in love. If I sent you a picture of a wedding ring, would you look at it and tell me what you think?'"

"No way!" Dean laughed.

"Yes! I had to talk him down from buying an engagement ring! I told him to wait for a year and a half, and then revisit the subject of marriage. Times almost up and he's still fawning over her. But I'm happy for him, he definitely deserves this."

You sprinkled bread crumbs on top of the Mac and cheese before popping it in the oven for a few minutes.

"You put break crumbs on your mac and cheese?" Dean questioned.

"You don't?"

"Never tried it." He shook his head.

"You caveman." You sighed. "I will just have to train you." Dean gave a harmonious laugh, which, in turn, made you laugh as well.

You grabbed a towel and pulled the mac and cheese out of the oven. You scooped some onto a plate and handed it to Dean. Both of you sat down at your small kitchen table and began to dig in.

"Oh my god." Dean said, his mouth full with food. "That is the best mac and cheese I've ever had."

"See? Told you it would be good."

"I'll never doubt you again." He mumbled as he shoveled more into his face.

You ate in a comfortable silence until there was a knock at your door. "I'll be right back." You told Dean as you opened the door.

"Mr. Pierce." You said nervously. "What can I help you with?" You knew what he wanted. And you sure as hell didn't have it.

"You're behind on rent, Y/N. I need the money, or I'll have no choice but to evict you." You felt your heart drop to your stomach.

"I-I don't have it right now. My hours have been cut and I-"

"I'm sorry, Y/N. You're a good girl, but I need someone who will lay rent on time every month. I really hate to do this, but I want you out in two weeks."

"I-It's okay, Mr. Pierce," You assured him shakily. "I understand." And with that, he was gone. You gave a shaky breath as you leaned on the door.

"Y/N?" Dean called, approaching the living room. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I will be." You nodded.

"What happened?" Dean questioned gently.

"I just got my eviction notice." You deadpanned. Dean's mouth popped open in shock. "I have to be out in two weeks."

"Crap, sweetheart. I'm sorry. What are you going to do?"

"Couch surf for a while, maybe? I know Jo will let me stay with her for a couple of days, but if her landlord catches me there, he'll throw her out too."

"What about your parents?"

You gave a cold laugh. "No, they'll never let me come home. I would stay with my older brother, but he's overseas right now. So honestly, I don't know what I'm going to do."

Dean stayed silent for a moment before speaking up. "You could come live with me." He suggested.

"Dean, I really appreciate the offer, but I can't impose on you like that."

"It's okay," He assured you. "I have an extra bedroom. And it's not imposing if I'm asking. Besides, like I said before, I hate living on my own."

"Dean, we barely know each other." You tried to reason.

"Hi, my name is Dean Winchester, I'm an Aquarius, I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women." You let out a loud laugh. "There, now you know more about me."

"Dean-"

"Just think about it. If you can't find anywhere else to live, my door's always open. I have to go, but here's my number," He said, writing down his phone number on a sticky note. "If you need anything, call me." Dean gave you a small smile before he walked out the door.

You flopped on the couch, staring up at  ceiling. Storm jumped up on your chest, purring loudly. You gently scratched his back. "What should I do, Storm?" You asked. "Would you want to live wYou flopped on the couch, staring up at  ceiling. Storm jumped up on your chest, purring loudly. You gently scratched his back. "What should I do, Storm?" You asked. "Would you want to live with Dean? You seemed to like him." Storm gave a tiny meow, his eyes closing shut. "Real big help there, buddy."ith Dean? You seemed to like him." Storm gave a tiny meow, his eyes closing shut. "Real big help there, buddy."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Tag List:

Cinnamon and Sugar Tags

@vicmc624 @lovememisha @supernatural-jackles @laycblack

Dean Tags:

@akshi8278​

And if anyone else wants to be added to any tag list, let me know!

[mourntheantagonist]

Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone!! It’s Finally the Day to share my piece for the @harringroveheart-on !! (If you didn’t already see it posted on ao3 yesterday)I went with the prompt: secret admirer!! enjoy some flangst and have a wonderful day whether you celebrate the holiday or not!! ❤️

Fortunately

read on ao3

***

Billy needs a job.

He’s two months fresh out of the hospital but that doesn’t matter. The local pool was closed for the winter and Neil was adamant that he get out and find work as soon as he was able to walk, despite the fact that he could only do so for only short periods at a time.

And he’s forced to take what he can get. January wasn’t the best time of year to be looking for work in Hawkins. He told himself he’d apply at any place with a help wanted sign displayed in their window. And he did. Application after application. Stellar fucking resume. The only problem was that not many people were looking to hire on the guy who looked just minutes away from death each time they saw him. Didn’t want to put the guy with the hideous scars and the sickly frame in front of customers. Though, they’d usually let him off with the same similar speech about how he “just wasn’t what they were looking for.”

Luckily for Billy, there was one place that was just as desperate as he was. Li’s Kitchen. The local Chinese restaurant that had just needed to make several layoffs to keep themselves from closing. They quickly hired him on to wash dishes in the back because he was ready and willing to work for minimum wage. Making just $3.35 an hour, it was enough and at least it got Neil off of his back.

So he’d haul his ass into work every day on the dot. Walking the full half-mile distance through snowy paths to the restaurant since the Camaro was still out of commission. Trudging along, praying he didn’t slip because his ribs were still fragile and just a simple impact of a good fall could break them again. The walk was simply exhausting. By the time he’d enter through those double doors and set off the bell hung above, he’d be completely out of breath and exhausted and his shift hadn’t even started yet. But fortunately it was just washing dishes. How hard could it be?

Apparently. Pretty fucking hard for a guy who could hardly stand up straight. The heat radiating from the hot steam of the water making him lightheaded almost instantaneously. The boiling hot water against his arms and hands sending him back to those days flayed out in the sun as the ultraviolet rays burned through the skin. The liquid dripping from his face that he couldn’t differentiate from steam or sweat taking him back to the sauna. Feeling his insides heat up and burn like fire inside his gut. Trapped in a prison that was his own body. He just wanted to crawl into a bucket of ice.

His only saving grace was that this time it was winter, and he wasn’t actually flayed. Just overheated and weak. He'd take his breaks behind the restaurant digging his feet into deep snow and letting the chill breeze cool him down. Lighting up a cigarette to get his body to an equilibrium of hot and cold. But the good feeling only lasted as long as he stood outside, immediately getting the same sick to his stomach feeling as soon as he walked back in. Hunched over the sink in the kitchen just trying to move fast enough and stay standing.

He figured he was lucky enough to get the job, that he couldn’t afford to disappoint, because then he’d be entirely out of options. Unemployed and still stuck under his father’s roof on Cherry Lane, this time accompanied by a deeper rage. If Billy didn’t have a job to get to, Neil would have no reason to hold back anything. No reason not to leave bruises or cuts. But it was getting harder and harder as the days progressed. Never enough time in the day to rest and recover enough to brave the next one. He was running on borrowed energy and excessive amounts of caffeine.

There came a moment when he nearly passed out into the sink full of porcelain plates. His breathing became shallow as his vision got blurry and dark. His head spun and his balance faltered and he needed a fucking drink of water.

One of the servers caught him just before he was about to go down. A man older than him but not by much. Same build as him before the accident but easily with an additional five inches on him. Billy was probably at least ten pounds lighter now that a bulk of his muscle had wasted away in that hospital bed. Making him easy to catch.

“You look like shit hargrove.” is what the man says, but Billy barely registers it because everything is muffled. The sounds of running water into the metal sink being the loudest noise he can hear. The man tosses one of Billy's arms over his shoulder and hauls him into the break room. Billy’s doing exactly zero of the work. Letting his legs fall limp and his feet drag against the tile floor. He sits him down in one of the metal chairs and hands him a small cup of water from the jug. “Drink you’re dehydrated” he says, tilting the bottom of the cup upwards so that it’s forced into Billy's mouth and down his throat. “The dinner rush is almost out, I’ll take care of the rest of the dishes, you just stay in here and try not to pass out again, sound like a plan?”

Billy nods his head and drinks the rest of the water in the cup before letting his head fall into his hands and his eyes fall shut as he tries to regain his composure. Cool himself down and slow his heart rate.

By the time his coworker — Zachary, he remembers — comes back into the break room he’s better. Not quite ready to get back to the sink and the hot steam cloud that comes with his job, but better.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten kid?” Kid. Sounds really odd coming from someone who could be no older than thirty.

“I had toast this morning.” Billy hadn’t actually been eating much lately. Not finding the time in the day to sit down to have a meal in between work and recovering from said work. His hours conflicted with family dinner so he was left to fend for himself. Neil made it very clear that what was in the cupboards did not belong to him. So all he had to his name was a single loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter.

“Well guess what. It’s closing time and you’re not leaving here without a meal. So go sit down at one of the tables and pick anything you want from the menu.” Does Billy have pride? Yes. But is his stomach turning and his mouth watering at just the thought of some orange chicken? Also yes. So instead of arguing with him about how he can take care of himself, which is debatable at this point, he just says thank you and finds himself a table in the corner. He doesn’t expect Zachary to follow him all the way there and sit down right across from him.

“Don’t worry about paying. My dad will cook it up for free.”

Oh right. Zachary Li... The owner’s son.

And suddenly things went from awkward to outright uncomfortable for Billy. Because he was sitting here eating dinner with another man who would be footing the bill. Sure, Zachary was just his coworker and in his mind the exchange had absolutely no weight to it, but to billy it was so fucking heavy. The thought of Neil barging in to see the display and not giving two seconds to read the situation before he started throwing punches. Because it didn’t matter if it was a date or just dinner with a coworker. If it looked a certain way, then that’s how it was.

But the other thing was he couldn’t just get up now. Not without an explanation. So he sucked it up and said he’d have the orange chicken, earning a scowl followed by a laugh and a nod because of course he’d order that and none of the authentic chinese food dishes. But then he ordered the same thing because they both have fallen victim to american colonization.

And chef Li made a damn good orange chicken.

And this one did not disappoint. But it’s not like he really had the chance to taste it since he was too busy inhaling it. Finishing his entire plate before Zachary had even made a dent. And Billy was slightly embarrassed by it. But zachary said nothing. Just continued with his own meal without acknowledging that Billy had scarfed his own down in no time at all. Making other dry conversation with Billy and constantly refilling his water glass with the pitcher every time it got below half full.

When he’s just about finished is when chef Li brings out a small plate with fortune cookies sitting on top, one for each of them. They each take their own and crack them open.

“What’s it say? I got an inch of time is an inch of gold for the thousandth time. I swear elizabeth is getting lazy with these”

Billy looks down at his, and can’t help but laugh.

“A beautiful, smart, and loving person will be coming into your life.”

Hahaha. Hilarious.

“Well then we better hope that these things come true. Though I have a lot of time and have not seen any gold fall into my lap yet.” he laughs and pops the cookie into his mouth, Billy does the same. “Hey dad, you gonna open one?”

“Sure.” he says. Pulling one from the container in the back and breaking it open quite aggressively. “Allow compassion to guide your decisions. Boring.”

They both just laugh. But then Zachary gets this weird look in his eyes. “Hey dad? What if Billy made the fortune cookies instead?”

“Who would wash the dishes?”

Zachary just shot him a look. Yeah, Billy's medical condition and clear exhaustion didn’t go unnoticed by the staff. That must have been what that look meant.

“Read that fortune again, Dad.”

He looks down at the slip of the paper in his hand and almost instantly tosses it to the floor.

“You’re a pain in my ass Zach. alright then Billy, you available in the mornings? I can have Elizabeth show you the ropes tomorrow and if you’re any good you won’t have to wash dishes anymore. That will be my ungrateful son's job.”

“Hey-“

“No ‘hey’ nothing. Have compassion, remember?” he swats Zach with the towel that hung over his shoulder.

Billy just stayed silent for the whole exchange. Only nodding his head when asked if he was free in the mornings. He wanted to tell them to fuck off. To tell them he could do his job perfectly fine. A bold faced lie, but still. However, he also recognized that he couldn’t continue the way he was going. He was three shifts away from an ambulance ride to the emergency room, and that would just piss off Neil further.

So instead of speaking up, he silently agreed, and suddenly found himself walking the same distance he did every day, this time at seven in the morning when the rest of his house was still asleep. Another bonus. Less he had to see Neil, the better. And he’d be home in time for family dinner, the only meal he was welcome to join. And as much as he hated sitting across the table from his Dad, Susan's cooking served as a pleasant enough distraction.

Liz gladly showed him how to make the cookies. Constantly expressing how much she hated making them and is happily giving up the job to billy. That didn’t make him feel too great about it.

But then it really wasn’t bad. Just tedious. Slightly boring and mindless. Made his hands ache after a couple hours of folding the fortunes and squeezing out the batter, but it was ten times less painful than doing the dishes. He got to make them while sitting down at a table before the place even opened. No crowded kitchen or hot running water. The only heat he experienced came from opening and closing the oven, and that only happened for seconds at a time.

And the best part.

He got to make the fortunes.

Typing out several sheets of sample fortunes on a typewriter, cutting them into slips using the paper guillotine. It was definitely strange they never bothered to check his work. They had way too much trust in a guy like Billy to write fortunes. Free will to throw anything in there.

Did he ever veer away from the script posted to the wall? No. But the fact that he could was so funny to him.

He never once considered he would actually want to throw something else into those fortune cookies, until that first tuesday in the middle of his shift right as they opened for lunch and he saw a familiar figure enter through the glass doors into the restaurant. Bell chiming behind him. Craning his head upwards so he could get a closer look he recognizes Steve, picking up a to-go order still wearing the dark green family video vest. Steve didn’t even notice him. Just grabbed his white paper bag, dropped the bill on the counter, and walked out the door. Flashing a smile at Liz who was up running the counter.

But Billy, he saw Steve. He stared at Steve for the duration of his time in the store because he was totally and completely whipped. Totally entranced for long enough that the cookies he was folding had already hardened, and Zach was giving him a weird look when Billy visibly shook at the sound of the bell chiming for the second time, pulling him from the trance.

“So harrington, huh? He’s your fortune?”

Billy got all wide eyed and jerked his head to the right to look at him. Completely zoned out and unprepared to defend himself, instead just stuttering out a string of nonsensical “I”s and “no”s and “it’s not”s. Failing miserably to get the lies past his tongue.

“Relax dude. I don’t really give a shit. Elizabeth, however, might. Girl doesn’t stop talking my ear off about you.”

But that just goes in one ear and out the other. Billy still continues to stutter out as best of a denial he can but his heart is racing, his stomach is churning, his palms are sweating, and the cookies are burning!

“Shit.” it’s the first full sentence he’s been able to get out. Rushing over to the oven and pulling out the hot pan of nearly completely blackened circles.

And Zach is just standing there laughing. Waving the smoke out of his face as Billy tries to blow out the miniature fire he caused on one of the cookies.

“Still gonna try and deny it?” he says.

“Fuck off. Seriously.”

Zach just backs away. Hands in the air. “Okay, okay. I’ll mind my own business. Lover boy.”

Billy promptly tosses one of the finished cookies at his face. “Whatever you think you saw. Keep it to your fucking self, alright?”

“Got it. Loud and clear.” But he’s still fucking giggling and Billy is currently contemplating murder. Eyes darting to the array of knives in close reach. Shakes the feeling. Killing the boss's son probably wouldn’t look good on evaluation.

Did he tell anyone? No. Did he tease billy relentlessly about it every fucking day. Of course he fucking did. Especially on days Steve walked into the restaurant for a to-go order. Nudging him in the arm with a little “Guess who’s here?” in a sing-songy voice.

And to think Billy thought having someone know and not crucify him would be a good thing. He'd rather he just hate crime him behind the restaurant instead of the constant, and I mean constant, ribbing.

Eventually moving on from teasing behind the wall of the kitchen to suggesting he go out and take the payment to actually pushing him out the swinging doors to do it. “Talk him up Hargrove. Put on the moves.”

There were no moves. But there was a conversation. A good one. A nice one. They just talked about themselves and caught up. Not really seeing much of each other once he was out of the hospital. Only having seen Steve in passing on days he’d bring max by for visiting hours. But they never actually talked much during that time. He’d come up to the room with her saying “Thought it’d be nice to see another familiar face.”

And it was.

Billy was not paying much attention to this conversation. Answering Steve's questions and asking his own, but he was definitely distracted by how close their hands were to each other, both rested on the counter, supporting themselves. If you asked Billy after the conversation what they talked about, he could only recall two things. One; he works at family video, not really substantial. And two; he said he looked good.

“You look good Billy.”

Yup, Billy was completely gone.

So maybe the constant teasing wasn’t completely terrible. Especially now that he’s given him such a stupid stupid stupid idea that he’s one hundred percent going to go through with because it’s about fucking time he wrote some fortunes of his own. He had several typed out and ready to be placed into a cookie whenever they received another call for an order for ‘Harrington.’ The first one was innocent enough. Pulled straight off the list of sample fortunes.

“You always bring others happiness.”

Just something simple. He just saw it on the list and it made him smile. Thought it would be nice to see Steve smile too.

The next few were similar to that one. Pulled straight off of the list but tailored specifically toward Steve.

“You are working hard.”

“Have a beautiful day.”

“You look pretty.”

But that last one was different. Because on the back of the last one he wrote in ballpoint pen.

- The cookie maker ♡

And that’s when it became a thing that they were both aware of. Now it was a romantic gesture and not just an act of kindness or a series of coincidental fortunes. Now steve was on the lookout for who made the fortunes at Li’s kitchen, but at the same time trying to keep the mystery alive so that the fortunes would keep coming.

Billy started writing out his own.

“I like your hair.”

“You have a terrific ass.”

“Somebody’s got a crush on you.”

Zach wrote that last one.

Then they got deeper.

“You make me happy when I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You make the pain go away.”

Steve never failed to blush at each and every fortune with the signature heart on the back.

But it was dragging on. And Steve was getting impatient. Started to ask around, eventually learning that robin had seen Elizabeth Li making them one time.

Elizabeth Li is sixteen. Absolutely not.

And now he feels bad for letting it drag on this long. Taking himself to the restaurant to let her down gently. When he walks through, Billy is standing behind the counter. Confused because he didn’t usually order on Wednesdays, and especially not this late in the day.

Was that a weird thing to know?

“Do you have an order to pick up?” Billy asks.

“No. Not today. I was actually hoping I could talk to Elizabeth, is she around?”

And Billy's heart just sinks to the floor. The slight smile that was on his face now completely gone and shattered to pieces.

“Yeah. I’ll go get her.” he says, with a heavy heart, disappointment clear in his voice.

He sends her out to the front and lingers in the back, ear pressed to the door trying to listen in like some creep.

“Look, elizabeth. I’m really flattered and I appreciate the fortune cookies, but you’re way too young for me. I’m sorry.”

Shit.

Is Billy supposed to be worried or relieved?

He can’t even see her face but he knows she’d be giving him her death stare right about now.

He can hear her say it through clenched teeth and he shouldn’t find it so funny but it is.

“Yeah. Okay, sorry about that. I’ll definitely stop doing that. Have a good day Steve.” And she just walks away from the counter and Billy barely jumps backwards in time to not get a door slammed in his face.

“You better fucking fix this Hargrove. I am not going to go down for this for you.”

Zach had just walked into the kitchen from the break room. Chef Li and the rest of the staff are just minding their own business.

“What did I miss?”

Elizabeth is all up in Billy’s personal space. Inches away from his chest looking up at him from her height of just five feet and three inches.

“Steve fucking Harrington thinks I’m his little secret admirer.”

Her face is red in anger but Zach’s is red from laughing so hard.

“Now that’s fucking funny.”

“If you don’t tell Steve, I will. I covered for you out of the kindness of my heart, but I’m not that kind.”

“Isn’t that the truth.”

“Shut up Zach!”

Zach was laughing. Billy however, was suddenly not. Head now bowed, sighing heavily.

“I can’t do that.” It was a quiet and sudden change of tone that altered the mood of the situation entirely. The only people who could hear were just the three of them because the sound couldn’t overpower the noises of chopping vegetables and the clanking of pots and pans and the sizzle of cooking meat.

“Why not?”

“Fuck you. You know why.”

“Well what was your plan Romeo?! Were you just never going to tell him?” she threw her hands in the air like he was being ridiculous. The only thing that was ridiculous was that he ever went through with it in the first place.

“I don’t know. Okay? I don’t fucking know.”

Zach came up from behind him and offered a reassuring hand to his shoulder. “Look dude, my little sister is a bitch but she’s right. You have to tell him. I’ll have your back when you do.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?” Billy jerks his head back down to look at Liz.

“Tell him. Tomorrow.” Her arms were crossed and she clearly wasn’t taking a no for an answer.

“Fuck the both of you. My shift is over.” Billy pushed past her and out of the restaurant. Leaving his jacket behind and walking home through the cold weather. His converse getting wet from the slushy snow, soaking through to his socks making him even colder all over. He’s internally freaking out and his heart would be beating out of his chest if his nervous system wasn’t operating at a decreased rate due to potential hypothermia.

He can’t even think. Just kicking his feet against the wet pavement letting the breeze take him over. If he dies, he doesn’t have to tell him.

Headlights pass him by as he slowly walks the distance home, nobody caring about the guy who cheated death just months ago inching closer back to that point instead of further away. Nobody stops to offer him a ride or even check to see if he’s okay, and he’s not even sure if he even wants to make it home. It would be preferable to just fall asleep in one of the bushes outside than having to make his day even worse by introducing Neil into it. Sitting at a dinner table, making nice and pretending like everything that was going well for him won’t come to an end twenty four hours from now. All the joy of making those little fortune cookies and just imagining the look on Steve’s face every time. The look he knew for sure was one of happiness despite never seeing it because it wasn’t a coincidence Steve’s lunch orders became more and more frequent.

But in his peripheral a set of headlights did seem to slow. That was either a sign he was meeting his savior, or potentially his kidnapper. Honestly at this point they are the same thing.

“Billy?”

You have got to be kidding me.

“Hey Harrington.” His teeth are chattering and his voice is shaky as he says it. Is it the cold? Or are his nerves finally beginning to work at the worst time possible?

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Walking home.”

“You’ll die out here.”

“If only.” He says it under his breath but Steve still hears it. Letting the car come to a complete stop rather than the slow pacing he was doing before.

“Get in. I’ll take you home.”

Billy just waves him off. “I’ll be fine on my own.” And he continues walking at his slow pace.

“I wasn’t fucking asking. Get the hell in Hargrove. Before I drag you in here.”

Billy stops and sighs. Kicking more slush into the air. “Fine.”

He walks around to the passenger side and lowers himself into the seat. Groaning as his body aches from the motion. Steve doesn’t acknowledge it. Just puts the car back into drive and heads towards Cherry Lane. Silence in the car as Billy breathes into his hands trying to warm them up. He’s pale. Looks like he’s never seen the sun before. His face is flushed. Even in the state like this Steve carries the same sentiment from that first conversation at the restaurant.

“You look good, Billy.”

He doesn’t say that. But he’s thinking it.

They eventually pull up to the white house with the screened in porch, and Billy grows visibly tense in his seat. He’s not moving. Just darting his eyes from the clock in the car and back to the house with the lights on.

“Everything okay?” Steve asks. But Billy’s eyes continue to move back and forth as his breathing quickens slightly more as each second ticks by. Showing no sign that he heard the words that came out of Steve’s mouth. He reaches over the center console and grabs his hand. “Hey.”

Billy looks over like a deer in the headlights. Eyes ever so slightly glossy. Clearing his throat he tries to speak.

“Can you take me somewhere else?” He asks.

He doesn’t want to go home. Can’t begin to even think about seeing his Dad today. He just wants to crawl under his covers and go to sleep. Dream of a reality that isn’t his own. Not this fucked up shit show he’s stupidly gotten himself into.

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere but here?”

Neither of them realize Steve is still holding his hand. Not until he squeezes it tighter, recognizing the pain in Billy’s voice. Not for what it meant but just that it was there. He didn’t need to nor want to know why Billy didn’t want to go home. Just wanted to make it so he didn’t have to.

“Is my house okay?”

Billy hesitates, but nods.

And they turn the car around.

- : -

Billy wakes up the next morning on Steve’s couch to the sound of a microwave’s hum followed by a loud ‘ding’ that echoes off the walls. He just remembers walking through the door of Steve’s house and immediately laying down on the first soft surface he could find. Remembers Steve saying he’d be upstairs if he needed anything before quickly drifting off into sleep without a care in the world.

He went to sleep without a pillow and a blanket, and woke up with both.

Billy rubs away at his eyes while Steve enters the living room from the kitchen with two plates in his hands.

“I made you a hot pocket if you want one.” He sets the plate onto the coffee table before he takes a seat in the chair beside the couch. Billy sits himself up and takes the plate, cooling it off with a quick blow of his breath before biting into it. “You have work today?”

“Yeah, at eight. What time is it?”

“Only seven fifteen. I have to be in at eight thirty so I can drop you off if you want.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s seriously not a problem man, and no offense but you don’t look like you’d make the walk from here to there.”

Billy laughs.

“I thought you said I looked good.”

Shit. It’s weird that he remembers that.

But Steve blushes. “Well yeah, just not ‘two mile hike’ good. But you’ll get there.”

“Thanks.”

“Why are you working anyway? Shouldn’t you still be recovering?”

Billy frowns. “My Dad is making me.”

Oh. That’s why he doesn’t want to go home.

The situation is awkward now. Silent as they finish their breakfasts and drive off in the Beemer. Pulling up outside the restaurant fifteen minutes before his shift starts. Billy suddenly reminded of what he’s supposed to do today as soon as he looks at the sign out front.

“Uh, hey. Listen. Come by the restaurant for to-go. On me y’know, as a thank you.”

“You don’t have to-“

Billy cuts him off.

“Yes. I do.”

- : -

When Billy walks into the kitchen in the same clothes as yesterday nobody says anything. Nothing about his undone hair or his or his early arrival to work. Instead he’s met with apologies exiting the mouths of the two Li children as they corner him in the break room.

“We’re sorry about yesterday. It wasn’t fair for us to do that to you. Elizabeth said she won’t tell Steve.”

They were waiting for him to yell, or at the very least get his anger out some way.

But instead Billy smiled. Barely there with just the slight upturn at the corners of his mouth but it was there, so distinct from his natural grimace. “It’s fine.” He says.

Zachary and Elizabeth are entirely confused. Looking in between each other like ‘did you just see what I just saw?’

“What has you so chipper?”

His smile just grew slightly wider.

“Spent the night at Steve’s last night.”

The two’s eyes grew to the size of saucers.

“You what!?” They both said in unison.

“Jesus! Not like that. I just slept on his couch.”

Billy could see the cogs turning in each of their heads. Trying to figure everything out like it was some complicated math problem. “I think I’m going to tell him. Today.”

“Really?”

Billy nodded, threw on his skull cap, and left the dumbfounded siblings where they stood. He had a fortune to write, and cookies to bake.

He was so meticulous this time. Making sure they were perfectly round circles, folded exactly in half. Throwing nonsense fortunes into each one. Avoiding the one sitting by itself on the table beside him. Too afraid to throw it into a cookie, each time he tossed in another basic off the list fortune was just Billy trying to talk himself out of it.

But he inches closer and closer to reaching the point of no return. First by putting in Steve’s lunch order. Next by finally slipping the fortune into a cookie. Next by slipping the cookie into Steve’s bag, and finally at the strike of noon, handing the bag to Steve, insisting he pay for it while Billy continuously denies him. Telling him to go enjoy his meal and stop arguing with him.

When Steve walked out the door Billy thought he could stop holding his breath. But he couldn’t let it out. Thought the anticipation lied with handing the meal to Steve, now feeling his breath caught even more now that he had. It was the anticipation of not knowing. He had to know.

But Steve left with the cookie still intact.

So he had to wait.

- : -

Steve brought his lunch into Family Video. The same thing he always ordered. Feeling a warm sensation in his chest at the knowledge that Billy knew his order. Fried rice and soup dumplings. Robin was there, waiting to mooch off of his food since she never bothered to bring her own lunch, but would also refuse to let Steve buy her anything.

If he didn’t know any better he’d think she liked him.

But he did know better not even to entertain that idea. She was just the girl who liked to eat Steve’s food because that’s just what she did. She’s standing there with her grabby hands, ready to start digging into his rice. She peruses through the contents of the bag and pulls out the plastic containers and the one fortune cookie that he always got.

“Did you let her down easy?�� Robin asks, waving the cookie in his face.

“Yes. She was weird about it. But I guess she took it well.”

“Well that’s good. Can I have this one then?”

“Sure. Go for it. I don’t like them all that much anyway. I just like them for the fortunes.”

“Well then let’s see what Steve Harrington’s fortune is today, shall we?”

Robin cracks it open and gently pulls the slip of paper out from inside. Popping the cookie into her mouth as she pulls it taut so she can read it.

Her eyes squint. She pulls it closer to her face, just inches away like she can’t see what she’s reading. Like she’s confused.

“What’s it say?”

“Umm.” She just shakes her head. Mouth still full with the fortune cookie as she passes it along to Steve.

He takes it from her hesitantly, and a look of confusion washes over his face as he reads the words.

“I’m not Elizabeth Li.”

“What?” He says it mostly to himself, because what the fuck?

He turns it over and is expecting to see the same little signature. The vague ‘the cookie maker’ with the tiny heart.

Well the heart is still there.

But it says something else.

- Billy ♡

“Holy shit.”

- : -

It’s a painstakingly long rest of his shift. Doing the same old boring jobs like cleaning up, manning the front counter, and bussing tables when he’d finished the daily batch of cookies. It usually felt like a long five hours, but today it was excruciating. He could feel Zach and Liz’s eyes on him the whole time. Like they were watching intently so they didn’t miss the moment where he inevitably exploded from all the anxiety in his chest.

Billy’s constantly playing out different scenarios in his head. Steve barging into the store and punching him in the face being the one that’s the most prevalent. Occasionally letting himself get slightly hopeful and imagining the opposite.

But there was a third scenario he considered. That Steve just wouldn’t come back at all. Let him down by not even bringing him up. Robbing him of the closure he needs. He’d rather Steve just punch him in the face. That was a kind of rejection he could handle. One that gave him a reason to let go. Not one that left him hanging on by a single thread.

His shift is quickly coming to an end and he’s debating on how desperate he is to wait and linger around the restaurant with his small shred of hope that he comes back. His neck hurts from jerking his head towards the door every time the bell chimed. Hoping to see the boy with the chestnut hair walk through only to be greeted by another local he refused to learn the name of.

He’s losing his goddamn mind and he needs a fucking cigarette.

His shift comes to an end and he clocks out. Escaping to the back of the restaurant behind the dumpsters, lighting up a Marlboro Red and sinking his weight against the brick siding of the building. Feeling himself shiver when the heat of the flame warms the tip of his nose. Breathing in the smoke trying to regain some sense of calm that completely left his body as soon as he handed the bag to Steve. Too many hours on this high alert feeling that he can’t even recall what relaxation feels like anymore. Just accepts the burning in his lungs in the cold outside weather with just the hum of low traffic and the sound dripping gutters as the closest thing he’s going to get to that for the time being.

Finishing his cigarette, he tosses the bud into a puddle. Dragging a hand over his face as he prepares to walk back into the crowded restaurant that would feel completely empty because it was lacking the one fucking person he wanted to see.

He could go see him.

No he couldn’t. The ball already was in Steve’s court.

He opens the door and Zach is standing right there like he was waiting for him.

“What the fuck dude?”

“No. Shut up. Someone is in the break room waiting for you.”

Billy doesn’t get the chance to register his words before he’s being grabbed by the collar of his shirt and dragged and pushed into the room, where Steve is sitting at the table.

Just looking at him. Studying him.

“Look, Steve –“

“Stop.” He cuts him off. Continues to stare before hesitantly reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out what looks to be a ziplock plastic bag. Opening it and dumping the contents of it out on the table all while Billy is left standing there unable to speak, couldn’t even if Steve would let him. The ability to get words out being entirely suppressed by the sight of about ten slips of paper spread out on the table in front of Steve. Steve just looking back down at them and not looking back at Billy. Lost in another trance. He starts moving them around on the table. Moving them away from each other so that none are touching each other and they are all completely exposed. Steve smiles. Gets up from the chair.

Walks over to where Billy stands with his back pressed against the door, holding tightly to the handle for a quick escape. Steve moves so slowly, like he’s forging his plan with each step until their chests are just inches away from each other. Steve’s looking down, away from Billy’s gaze. Taking Billy’s hand in his, causing him to shudder. “You know I rushed over as soon as I could. Thanks for the lunch Billy.” Billy’s just silent and completely still against the door. Steve’s hold on him is loose yet he feels entirely restrained. “I can’t believe it was you.”

“I’m sorry.” Billy practically chokes on the words, prompting Steve to finally turn his eyes up toward him. Seeing how his eyes have grown glossy and his face has turned a pinkish color.

“What for?”

“That it was me.”

Steve squeezes his hand tighter, brings another to Billy’s cheek gently and Billy feels like he’s being suffocated under the touch. Like instead the hand is wrapped around his throat and pushing against his airway. But he leans into it. Steve’s touch is so soft and he lets his eyes fall shut to burn the sensation into his memory.

“Don’t apologize for that.”

His eyes are still closed when Steve moves forward and kisses him. Shooting open as soon as lips make contact and he suddenly stiffens like a board. It’s quick and chaste and he doesn’t get the opportunity to kiss back before it’s over.

“You can’t… you don’t –“

“But I do.”

“This isn’t a joke, Steve.”

“I agree.”

Billy’s left standing there. Rubbing at his lips that were just touching Steve with the pad of his thumb.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Steve smirks, moves back into Billy’s space so his breath is hot against his mouth.

“You could kiss me, asshole.”

Billy doesn’t need to be asked twice.

[hockeyisit]

DAYDATE

Summary: Amelia and Auston hang out in Arizona 

AN: The ending is a little rushed because it was getting really long. 

Word Count: 3,635

Unedited

Master List

Slamming my laptop shut I smile cheerfully to myself. After waking up the next to Auston the day after our first date I apologized profusely for falling asleep on the couch. He had to reassure me that it truly was fine about thirty times before I actually in fact did believe him. Auston had drivin me back to my hotel and had asked me if I was going to be free again before I head back to Toronto.

I had told him I was free and we had made plans for two days later which was now today. I glanced in the hotel mirror as I took in my outfit and makeup. I was wearing some cute jean shorts with a crop top. Auston hadn't told me anything that we were doing except that it was going to be an all day thing starting with lunch. Hearing my phone vibrate from the bathroom I ran over to pick it up.

“Hello?” I ask into the receiver.

“Hey, it's Auston. I’m here in the parking lot.”

“Okay I’ll be right down,” I said reaching over for my purse and sliding into my shoes.

“Can’t wait,” I heard him mumble into the phone. I grinned lightly as I got to the door and unlocked the two extra locks before unlocking the deadbolt. I walked to the elevator.

“I’m hopping on the elevator so it'll probably cut out,” I told him before the call did just that. Once I finally made it outside I looked around for Austons car. Thankfully he was standing leaning up against the passenger door.

“How are you doing today Amelia?” he questioned as he went to pull the door open for me. I grinned at him before walking over and hopping in.

“Perfect,” I responded enthusiastically. He walked around and hopped in the car before turning on the car.

“Me too,” he smiled as he hooked his phone up to the AUX. He opened up his music before debating for a moment and then turning to me.

“Do you want to DJ?” he asked holding his phone out to me. I didnt really want to deal with the pressure so I shook my head no. He seemed fine with that answer and pulled up a song before hitting play and putting his phone down.

“Alright so to lunch. Is there any place that you wanted to try?” he asked as he turned to face me. This was my first time ever being here so I didn’t really have any ideas of the options so I shrugged my shoulders.

“I’m really fine with whatever. Besides Arby’s if you have that here. That place is terrible,” I said with a shudder. He laughed as he pulled out of the parking spot.

“What do you have against Arby’s,” he questioned glancing at me for a second before returning his eyes back to the road.

“Have you smelled it? It’s seriously terrible,” I said as I shrunched up my nose. He nodded his head for a moment.

“It does smell pretty bad,” he laughed back and I joined in.

“I have a place in mind and I promise it’ll be better then Arby’s,” he promised. I gave him a small grin before looking out and taking in the views around me.

“I could never imagine growing up here,” I said truthfully as I leaned back into my chair. He hummed for me to continue.

“It’s so cool, and always warm. I would feel like I’m on vacation every day,” I said as I admired his face.

“I loved growing up here,” he said gently resting his arm on the armrest. He pulled into a parking space outside of a building called Grassroots Kitchen & Tap. He reached over for his phone and opened it to safari before searching something up and then handing it to me.

“Would you want anything from here?” he asked. I took the phone from him to see it opened to the menu. I looked through it for a few minutes before nodding my head.

“Yeah this sounds good,” I said locking his phone and handing it back to him. He grabbed it before turning his car off for the two of us to get out. As I walked towards the door Auston met me in front of the car and rested his hand on my back as the two of us walked towards the host.

“Hi. Table for two?” the hostess asked sweetly. I nodded my head while Auston responded with a yes. She smiled before turning to the other host and then one led us to a table in the back of the restaurant. It was absolutely stunning. There were flowers everywhere and so much natural beauty. Auston pulled out my chair and I took my seat before he moved to sit himself.

I smiled in amazement. I had never felt so special in my whole life. I had dated a few people in my life but I had never been treated as amazing as Auston had treated me just the few times that we had spent together. Auston handed me the drink menu.

“You can get a drink if you want,” he said softly before scanning his eyes over his own menu. I looked between the two menus trying to decide what I wanted. The server came by and greeted us before asking us what we would like to drink.

“I’ll take a lemon drop martini please ,” I said glancing up from the menu and over to Auston.

“Water please,” he said, placing his menu on the table. The server nodded before taking off and leaving the two of us alone.

“You didn’t want a drink?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ll get one at some point,” he laughed leaning forward towards me. I grinned leaning towards him and resting my face on my hand.

“How is it being home?” I asked after the two of us stared at another for some time.

“It’s been good. I’ve seen my family a lot,” he reached for his drink from the server as he spoke to me. I grabbed mine and we quickly placed our order before being left alone again.

“Who all have you been seeing in your family?” I questioned him not knowing much about his family.

“I don't get to see my sisters Alex and Breyana often or my mom and dad so mostly them. I’ve been going over for dinner and what not. I try to spend as much time as I can when I’m home for the offseason,” he said. I took a sip of my drink.

“Sounds like you're pretty close with your family,” I gave him a gentle smile, he nodded his head in agreement.

“How about you? Are you close with yours?” he questioned gently. I felt myself tense up for a second before forcing myself to relax.

“No not exactly,” I said, taking a deep breath. I reached for my drink and took a sip before continuing. Auston noticed my nerves and reached for my hand.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he reassured.

“It’s okay I want to,” I said softly trying to figure out where to start.

“I moved to Toronto to get away from them honestly. I was pretty close to my mom, but she passed away from cancer when I was in high school,” I felt my eyes water for a second before I forced it to go away. Auston’s eyes looked saddened as he took me in. His hand gave mine a gentle squeeze.

“I never really got along with my dad, he’s kind of just an asshole and racist. I haven't talked to him in almost two years. I have twin brother  Dean and Will and then a younger sister Amanda. I talk to them sometimes but they are all still in the states,” I finished softly. His face hardened as I talked about my father before he relaxed slightly.

“How old is your sister?” he asked pulling his hand away as the server dropped off the food. We both started digging in the second that the server was gone.

“She’s 17 so she still lives at home with my dad,” I huffed as I cut into my food. He nodded his head as he took a bite of his food.

“I’ve always wished that I had a close family,” I admitted with a small shrug. He glanced up from his food towards me and smiled gently when he was done chewing his food. I dug into my own food and the two of us finished before being interrupted by our server handing over the bill. Auston quickly swiped it up to pay before handing it back over.

“Alright, ready for our next place,” he said standing up and reaching out for my hand. I grabbed his as I stood up and he led us out to the car.

“Where are we going?” I asked as I raised his hand up under my chin. He looked at me before glancing away.

“Mini golfing,” he responded quietly. I let out a light squeal.

“Really?” I asked pausing our walk back to the car. He held my door open for me while I hopped into the car.

“My little sister recommended this place,” he said closing the door and making his way over to the car.

----

“What color ball do you want?” Auston asked as he reached toward the balls. I took in all the colors before making my decision.

“Blue,” I said, reaching up to tie my hair into a ponytail. As we had stood out in the heated sun I had felt a sweat start to build up. Auston reached for the blue and black ball before foregoing the paper to keep score.

“Don’t want to keep score?” I questionly teased. He placed his hand on my back leading me to the first hole.

“I get pretty competitive and I don’t think I’m ready to show you just how much,” he teased back. I laughed as I reached down to place my ball in place. I glanced at Auston before getting into stance and took my first hit. I wasn’t too horrible when it came to certain sports so I ended up getting the ball pretty close to the hole.

“So your a sore loser?” I joked back. He embarrassedly laughed before nodding his head slightly.

“I don't lose often,” he followed up with. I chuckled at that as I watched him take his stance. He took his shot and got it closer than mine.

----

“Alright next up a hike,” Auston said as he put his seatbelt on.

“A what?” I scoffed. That did not sound like something I would find fun.

“A hike. You know we walk and we explore in nature,” he said, putting his car in reverse. I reached out and placed my hand on his arm.

“But Auston. It’s like really hot out there,” I said dramatically as I pointed out the window. He laughed as he nodded his head.

“It’ll cool down as we hike,” he said, turning into a dirt parking lot.

“But I’ve never hiked,” I tried another excuse.

“I have so will be safe,” he reassured, shutting his car off and leaning into the back seat for his backpack.

“C’mon, I got a surprise for you at the top,” he said, opening my door that I still hadn't opened. I sighed before grabbing his hand and hopping out of the car.

“Okay but do you have water and sunscreen?” I asked, turning to face him. He took his backpack off before opening it up to show me both. I grinned before taking his hand and the two of us started to make our way up.

----

“Oh my God. I swear if we're not almost there I’m giving up Auston,” I grunted breathless from the walk up. I thought that I was in shape but I was seriously out of breath as the Arizona heat beat down on us. Auston glanced over to me and handed the water bottle over to me. I gratefully took it before taking a sip.

“Were almost there. I can see it from here,” he said pointing over to where we were trying to get. Auston himself was sweating just as bad as me but due to his career he seemed to be able to handle the hike better than I was.

“Okay but one second,” I said, stopping needing to catch my breath. We had already stopped a few times up the hill. Mostly because we needed water breaks with how hot it was.

“I can carry you the rest of the way,” Auston offered, interrupting my train of thoughts. I glanced over with my mouth slightly opened before closing it.

“It’s really not that far and I don’t mind,” he walked over to me and crouched in front of me. Feeling like I had no choice I hopped on his back. We were both pretty sweaty but neither of us seemed to mind. I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my head against his. He wrapped his arms around my legs tightly to hold me in place. He walked the rest of the way to the top which truly wasn't that far and dropped me off on a rock before taking a seat next to me.

“This view is amazing,” I said a few minutes later after both of our breaths had evened out. I leaned my head against his shoulder as I took in the view before us. Arizona truly was beautiful. It was sunset so the sky was so colorful.

“Yeah it is,” he said leaning his head against mine.

“What was that surprise?” I asked as I leaned into him. He suddenly looked a little nervous.

“So I’m not sure if you'll like it but,” he rubbed his neck as he talked before leaning down to reach into the backpack.

“Your surprise,” he pulled out a joint from the small pocket. I felt a grin slowly come across my face as I reached for the joint and lighter that was in his hand. I put the joint in my mouth before lighting it up. He watched with focused eyes as I did all this before leaning back into me and wrapping his arm around my shoulder. I reached up for the joint and moved it to Austons mouth. He took a hit as I held it.

“Great surprise,” I grinned at him as I took in his beautiful face. The sun reflecting on him so perfectly. I took another few hits before handing it to Auston.

“I was a stoner when I was in college,” I told Auston with a small laugh.

“Badass stoner,” he grinned pulling me in closer to him. I laughed lightly before pushing him away to reach for the water bottle.

“I only smoke in the offseason,” he said as I drink my water. I took the joint from him and took another hit. I could definitely feel myself becoming high. It had honestly been awhile since I had smoked because I had a job now and just didn't do it as often.

“You look really beautiful,” Auston murmured into my ear before pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. I felt myself soften as I looked up to him. I took in his beautiful smile and kind sweet eyes. He looked so relaxed and happy. I leaned up feeling courageous and kissed him on this lips. He responded immediately by pulling me in and placing a hot kiss on my mouth. He had both his arms wrapped around me holding me in closely. I pulled back before giggling slightly. He smiled at me before taking another hit.

“We should head down before it gets too dark,” Auston warned as he burned out the joint. I nodded my head before pulling myself up.

“Okay. I am pretty high though,” I told Auston as I leaned into him. He laughed lightly wrapping his arm around me.

“The good thing is that the walk back is a lot easier than the walk here,” he said as we started are descend.

----

“Dinner time,” Auston cheered as we finally made it to his car. I cheered along as I opened my door and hopped in.

“Where to?” I asked giggling as I buckled up. The walk down had been much faster and I was still pretty high.

“Alright so we can go back to mine, I might have food. We can go pick up food. Or we can go pick up food from my moms,” he listed off. I glanced at him when he said mom and felt a little shock run through me. He wanted me to meet his mother already.

“Well I am all in favor of free food,” I responded

“My moms?” he questioned.

“Aright to your moms,” I laughed lightly. He smiled while making the very short drive. He pulled up into his family home driveway and we both hopped out of the car. I couldn't believe I agreed to do this. I was not mentally prepared to meet anyone in his family.

Auston led me to the front door and opened it easily. We walked into the house and slipped off our shoes.

“Mom,” Auston called as he made his way into the kitchen. I followed behind him and immediately noticed three girls standing at the counter. I shrink in towards Auston a bit feeling overwhelmed before forcing myself to relax when Auston grabbed my hand.

“Oh honey,” the older of the three says walking towards us and pulling Auston into a hug. He lets go of my hand to hug her back but the second they are done his hand is back in mine.

“This is Amelia,” he says pulling me forward a little by letting go of my hand and placing his on my back.

“This is my mom, Ema Matthews and then Alex and Bre,” he said pointing to each of them. I smiled at them shyly before waving. They all smiled back warmly. Bre and Alex shared a look of shock.

“We were wondering if we could steal some food,” Auston said walking closer towards the island with all the food displayed. Mrs. Matthews laughed while walking over to the cabinet for some containers. I glanced over at Auston’s sisters and gave them a smile. They were both so beautiful it was almost intimidating.

“Amelia, Auston tells me that you met on the airplane. Are you from Arizona or Toronto?” Mrs. Matthews asked me as she walked towards the counter.

“I live in Toronto. I’m from Illinois,” I said glancing away from his sisters towards her. She paused her shuffling to look towards me.

“Why such a big move?” she asked politely. I panicked as I tried to come up with something to come up with.

“Mom dont hound her with questions,” Auston tried to say, noticing the panic on my face.

“No it's okay, I just needed to get away from my home a bit and I ended up getting a job in Toronto. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up,” I said cutting him off. Mrs. Matthews sent me a small smile.

“Well, change of scenery is always good for the soul,” she said as she finished closing the containers and stacking them in a bag. Auston grinned as he reached over for it.

“Thanks,” he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. He walked over to hug both of his sisters before he grabbed my hand and started to lead me to the door.

“I’ll see you guys again soon,” Auston called as he put his shoes on.

“It was really nice to meet you girls, and you Mrs. Matthews,” I said as I also pulled on my shoes. Mrs Matthews had followed us to the door and pulled me into a hug.

“Aw, please. Call me Ema,” she said into my ear before helping us out the door.

“Thank you for the food Ema,” I said as we left the house. She smiled at us before closing the door. I turned into Auston with a smile.

“They seemed nice,” I told him as he pulled me into a side hug. He smiled at me before pulling the door open. Once we were both in the car and buckled Auston started up the car.

“Are we going back to mine?” Auston questioned putting the car in reverse. I nodded my head while leaning back in the chair.

The drive to Auston’s house was really quick. We hopped out of the car and made our way inside and were greeted by an excited Felix who followed us to the kitchen. I glanced at the clock behind Austons head and noticed that it was already 10:20. Auston put the food on the counter along with his backpack. He pulled out another joint and held it up.

“If you want we could smoke this eat and watch a movie,” he said pointing outside. I nodded my head and the two of us walked outside to smoke. He lit it up before taking a few hits. I sat down on the closest seat I could find and Auston sat right next to me.

“I was high when I met your mother. I can't believe I met your mother and sister,” I continued as he stayed silent. He handed the joint to me and I took another hit. I felt myself let out a big yawn as I leaned my head against his shoulder.

Once we finished smoking we went back inside and ate the amazing food his mom had made and put on a movie that I fell asleep to.

[allthingsfangirl101]

How To Save A Lifeguard–Matt Brody

Zac Efron Masterlist

Matt Brody is the most annoying, egotistical, manwhore I have ever met. He thinks that every girl he meets has to fall in love with him. Well, not me. I can't stand the sight, sound, or the air around him.

And he hates it.

Which just makes it all the more fun.

"Hey, Y/N."

"Matt," I said through my teeth, not looking away from my book. "I am on break. Break means lunch, water, shade, and no you. You are not on a break which means you should be anywhere but here."

"Come on, Y/N," he laughed. I ignored as he walked up to me and sat across from me. "Why won't you play with me? We can take our breaks together."

"Brody!"

We turned around to see Mitch standing in the doorway. "Will you please leave her alone? She has turned you down so many times, I'm starting to lose track."

I sent him a sweet smile as I held back my laughter. Matt glanced over at me, before clenching his jaw.

"And she's right," Mitch added. "You are not on break. Get back to the beach. Now."

"Fine," Matt said between his teeth. He glanced over at me and I sent him a playful pout. As he stood up, Mitch and I watched him leave. When he was finally gone, Mitch turned back towards me.

"I'm sorry, kid." He sighed. "You know how Olympians are; they think they are entitled to whatever they want. And what he wants is you."

"I wish I could change that," I mumbled as I grabbed my book. He laughed as he patted me on the back and grabbed a water.

A couple of days later, I walked into the lifeguard hut to see Matt and Mitch in a very heated discussion. They quickly stopped talking when I walked in.

"Everything okay?" I asked slowly as I grabbed my water from the fridge.

"Do you know. . ."

"No," Mitch instantly cut him off. "She doesn't need to get involved in this. We aren't even sure what this is."

"Anyway," I cleared my throat. "Mitch, I need to ask for two weeks off."

"Yeah? How come?"

"My mom is having surgery and I just want to be there for her. I know two weeks is a long time and we only have a week off normally but I. . ."

"Y/N," Mitch laughed, cutting me off. "Take as much time as you need. Family is important. I hope everything goes well with your mom."

"Thanks," I smiled. Mitch patted my shoulder as he passed me and left the lifeguard shack. I looked over at Matt and sighed.

"What?" I asked, turning back around and putting my stuff away.

"Why is your mom having surgery?" He asked.

"She was diagnosed with breast cancer a few months ago," I sighed. "They are removing the lump."

"Wow," Matt said. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. That's terrible."

I just shrugged as I grabbed my gear and headed outside, not sure what to take from this sudden change in Matt Brody.

                       * * * * *

Throughout the week before I left for my mom's surgery, I noticed Mitch and Matt constantly whispering to each other. They've been working late and even switched schedules so they worked at the same time. I never asked what was going on because I knew whatever it was, they didn't want me involved.

I had just gotten to the shack, putting my stuff away, when the door slammed open. I turned around and saw Mitch, Matt, Holden, and C.J. walking in.

"Whoa, what happened to you guys?"

"Ask him," Holden said through her teeth as she nodded towards Matt. I raised my eyebrows when I saw the look on his face.

"I said I was sorry," he mumbled as he walked past me.

"Do I wanna know?" I asked C.J.

"Nope," she said popping the "p".

I glanced over at Mitch to see him shaking his head. I followed him into his office and knocked on the open door as he sat down.

"Hey, kid. Come on in." He said, gesturing towards a chair.

"Hi, sorry. I just wanted to talk to you about. . . Well, my mom's surgery is this weekend. I just wanted to double-check that it was still okay for me to go."

"Y/N," he said chuckling. "We will miss you but we'll be just fine. Go home and take the time you need to help her out."

"Thank you," I said, not meaning to sound as relieved as I came off. "I normally wouldn't take this much time off at a time but. . ."

"Y/N, sweetheart." He cut me off. He walked around and sat on the edge of his desk in front of me. "I told you. Take as much time off as you need. You are one of my best lifeguards, which means I know this is real. I know you truly are going to take care of your mom and not going on vacation. Don't worry about us or the beach. Focus on your mom."

"Thanks, Mitch." I stood up and gave him a hug. He laughed as he hugged me back.

"Give your mom a hug for me," he whispered. He pulled out of the hug and put his hands comfortingly on my shoulders. "And thank her for raising such an amazing daughter."

"Shut up," I laughed as I pushed him away, making him laugh.

"It's true," he shrugged. "You are."

I rolled my eyes and turned around, starting to walk out of his office as I said, "Thanks, boss."

I froze outside his office when I noticed Matt watching us. "What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he stuttered before walking to his locker. I watched him for a second before shrugging and grabbing my supplies for my shift.

"Okay then," I mumbled as I walked outside.

                       * * * * *

"Y/N."

I gasped when I felt someone grab me and pull me into the lifeguard shack. When the lights turned on, I saw Matt standing in front of me with wide eyes.

"Matt!" I yelled through my teeth as I pushed him away from me. "What the hell is your problem?! You can't just grab someone like that!"

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "Look, I know you hate me and think I'm disgusting. But I really need to talk to you."

"Why?" I sighed, my heart rate finally going back to normal.

"Because you are the only level-headed person I know," he said taking a step towards me. "And your dad is the deputy."

"How did you know. . ." I mumbled.

"Mitch told me," he rushed out. "He also told me that you were working as a lifeguard during the summer to pay off student loans for med school. Anyway, Mitch debated telling your dad because he didn't want you getting sucked into this and getting hurt."

"Matt," I said slowly. "What is going on? What is there to get sucked into and why would you need my dad?"

"Thorpe fired Mitch."

"What?! Why would he. . . Matt, what the hell has been going on around here? I took two weeks off to go help my mom with her surgery and I come back and Mitch has been fired?"

"It's kind of a long story," Matt stuttered.

"Then tell it slowly, Brody," I said through my teeth as he sat down on the couch. He sighed as he ran his finger through his hair. I stood in front of him and crossed my arms over my chest. "Now."

"Do you remember that private yacht caught fire a couple of days before you left?"

"Yeah," I shrugged. "And we had to save your ass when you dove directly under the flames. That was the night Councilman Rodriguez died. That's it."

"Actually," he said slowly.

"Son of a. . ." I mumbled as I sat across from him. "What else?"

"Well, Mitch and I looked into it."

"Even though Ellerbee told you to leave it alone?" I asked, sending him a knowing look.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "Anyway, we attended a party that Leeds held."

"And?"

"And nothing," he elongated. "So we ended up going to the hospital morgue."

"Wait, what?" I scoffed. The seriousness in his voice and on his face made me nervous.

"I know it sounds weird but we found out that two of Leeds' henchmen were forging an autopsy to cover up that Leeds killed Rodriquez."

"Whoa," I interrupted him. "Slow down, Matt. That doesn't. . . That doesn't make any sense. Why would she want him dead?"

"We weren't sure, so we tried to find out."

"How?" I sighed, running my fingers through my hair.

"Well, Mitch and I went undercover so we could sneak into her club kitchen."

"What?! Matt, do you hear how crazy this sounds?"

"I know, okay?" Matt sighed as he stood up and started pacing back and forth in front of me. "But when we went undercover, we saw her workers getting drugs that were hidden in barrels of fish."

"Drugs hidden in the barrels of fish?" I asked for clarification. "So, Leeds is a secret drug lord? Wait, is this how Mitch got fired? Thorpe found out you guys were out of our jurisdiction, didn't he?"

"Yeah," he sighed, sitting back down.

"How could you do that to him, Matt? I know you're a stuck-up, arrogant Olympic asshole who doesn't give a shit about anyone but yourself. But, like it or not, we're a family here. We stick up for each other."

"I know that," he stuttered.

"How could you do this? Matt, how could you take the job away from Mitch? He's devoted his whole life to keeping this beach safe and you. . ."

"I didn't have a choice!" Matt yelled, cutting me off. "I didn't want to take the job. In fact, I wanted to walk out with Mitch."

"Then why didn't you?" I asked, my voice soft. He opened and closed his mouth, angrily running his hands through his hair.

"I had no choice, okay?" I watched as he sat back down, his shoulders slumped.

"I'm sorry, Matt," I mumbled. He looked up at me, his eyes soft. "I shouldn't have jumped at you like that. I just. . . I'm sorry."

I stood up and it was my turn to start pacing. "What the hell are we going to do? We have to get Mitch his job back."

"I've thought about that!" Matt jumped up. "Yesterday, I saw sand grifters steal bags using a cooler. I tackled them and stole the cooler."

I watched as he walked to the office, coming back with a red cooler in his hands.

"And," he continued, "I found another pouch of flakka on the beach. What I need from you is the autopsy for the second body they found."

"Matt," I sighed.

"I know," he interrupted me. "I know how this all sounds. And I know that it's a lot to ask for but. . ."

"I already have it," I cut him off.

"You do?" He stuttered. I stood up and walked over to my locker. I got my laptop out and brought it over to the table. I opened it and pulled up the autopsy.

"Before I left, I used my medical school access to get the autopsy of the councilman and I'll admit; it did seem off. When I looked more into it, the fire was a cover-up. So, I got access to the second autopsy and look."

I showed him the screen and stepped back, crossing my arms over my chest.

"That doesn't look like a shark bite," Matt mumbled.

"Because it's not," I sighed. "Matt, the guy you found was stabbed."

"What?" He asked as he turned around.

"The cut is too perfect. A shark bite would be rougher, torn more. Not a perfect slice."

"Holy shit," he mumbled. I watched as Matt stared at the screen, trying to piece everything together.

"I need to get back on Leeds' boat," he mumbled.

"What? Are you crazy?"

I grabbed his hand, stopping him from leaving. "Matt, look at me. You can't go back there. Last time, you almost died. If you go back. . ."

"I'll be fine," he chuckled.

"Matt," I said, my breath getting caught in my throat. The look on my face must've been bad because he gently grabbed my shoulders.

"Y/N, I'm going to be fine. I promise."

He was about to leave the shack again but I quickly said, "I hacked into her servers."

"You what?" He asked, spinning around.

"I hacked into her serves earlier and I found out her plan. It's. . . It's not good, Matt."

"What did you find?"

"She has plans to privatize the entire beach by buying out or eliminating every competing business owner," I explained.

"Eliminating?" He repeated. "Shit."

I nodded as I wrapped my arms around myself. "Matt, this is bigger than two lifeguards can handle. We need to go to the police."

"We can't," he said, sounding like he was in another place right now. "But what if. . .

"Matt, don't. . ."

"I gotta go."

"Wait, what? Matt!"

I tried to run after him but he was gone.

                       * * * * *

"Slow down, sweetheart." My dad soothed through the phone. "Just take a breath and tell me what happened."

"I don't know," I stuttered. "All I do know is that Matt and Mitch were onto something involving Leeds' before she got Mitch fired. I think. . . Dad, I think Matt went to handle her on his own."

"To be honest, we thought Councilman Rodriquez's death was suspicious and with everything you just said, it makes sense that Leeds had something to do with it. Thorpe too if he fired Mitch just like that."

"Wait," I cut him off. "Do you think Matt is in trouble?"

"I thought you didn't care for Matt Brody," my father said knowingly.

"I don't," I stuttered. "I just. . . He's a coworker. . ."

"Sure," he laughed. "I'll pretend to believe you."

"Dad," I sighed. "What should I do?"

"I wish I could help you, kiddo, but the ocean is a little out of my jurisdiction."

"So, what?" I scoffed. "We just let Matt go out there and get killed?"

"Of course not," my dad said quickly. "But if you brought them to land, then I could arrest them."

                       * * * * *

I got to work early the next day and eagerly waited for Matt. My nerves jumped every time the lifeguard shack door opened, my heart jumping into my throat and then sinking into my stomach when it wasn't him.

I walked out onto the beach and looked around. I scanned the beach, finding no sign of Matt.

"Where the hell are you, Brody?"

I tried to focus on the people on the beach, making sure they were safe, but I couldn't stop wondering where Matt was. At the end of my shift, I headed into the lifeguard shack and sat down in Mitch's/Matt's office.

I sucked in a breath when I saw a note scribbled down on a post-it. From all the stupid notes Matt has left on my lunch over the past few months, I knew that it was in his sloppy handwriting.

Leeds' yacht Southward Dock 8 pm shipment

I checked the time and quickly grabbed the keys to the lifeguard jet ski. I grabbed a lifejacket and threw it on as I headed to the jet ski. I quickly pushed it into the water and headed to the Southward dock.

I slowed down when I saw Leeds' yacht pull out of the dock. I swore under my breath as I put the jet ski into high gear and sped off after it. When it finally came to a stop, I drove around to the back where I could hide my jet ski in a blindspot.

I snuck on and quickly started searching the ship for any sign of Matt. I had just about searched every inch and about ready to give up when I heard a familiar voice.

"You can't do this!"

I peeked around the corner to see two men dragging Matt to the edge of the boat. My eyes widened when I saw them lift a bait cage, ready to shove Matt into it. Before I could stop it, a gasp left my lips too loudly. I quickly covered my mouth and hid back around the corner. I held my breath and waited before peeking my head back over.

"I can and I'm gonna," Leeds laughed. She snapped her fingers and her two goons roughly grabbed Matt, ready to throw him into the bait cage.

"Such a shame to hurt a pretty face like yours," she sighed. "Maybe after we get rid of you, I'll go after that little female lifeguard you seem to be spending so much time with these days. What's her name? Y/N?"

I heard him grunt angrily as he tried to fight his way free. For a brief second, his eyes found me hiding. He instantly recognized me and sent me a pleading look, begging me to turn and run. I shook my head as I took a hesitant step towards them.

He started to fight against the two men, desperately trying to get to me. I covered my mouth when one of the guys hit him, grabbed him, and dragged him to the edge of the boat.

"One final thought before you take a swim," Leeds' said teasingly. "You were right about me being involved in Lieutenant Mitch's unfortunate firing. Just so you know, I bribed Thorpe into firing him and replacing him with you, the nieve Olympian who would be too stupid to realize what we were doing."

My heart sank when I saw the look in Matt's eyes. Leeds leaned down and pressed a teasing kiss to Matt's forehead before her goons threw him into the cage.

I covered my mouth with both hands, holding in a scream as the three of them kicked the cage into the water. Their laughter echoed in my head as they walked away. It was hard to breathe as I watched the cage sink, Matt struggling inside.

Once Leeds' and her men were out of sight, I dove off the boat. By the time I caught up to Matt, the cage was already at the bottom. I grabbed the cage, pulling myself down. Matt rolled over, his eyes widening when he saw me.

I pulled a bobby pin out of my hair and started fiddling with the lock. Thanks to my dad and his paranoia of having a daughter, he taught me to hotwire a car, get out of a zip tie, and pick a lock. Matt watched as I struggled to get the cage unlocked.

I looked up, a scream getting stuck in my throat when I noticed Matt struggling to stay awake. I tried to reach through the cage and touch him, but I couldn't reach. I grunted angrily and forced myself to focus on unlocking the cage. My vision blurred as I finally got it unlocked.

I reached in to grab Matt and pulled him out. Once he was in my arms, I kicked off the seafloor and swam us up to the surface. When we broke through, I let out the breath I'd been holding.

I tightened my arms around him as I swam us towards the jet ski. I rested him on the side before pulling myself up. It took all of my strength to pull Matt up onto the jet ski.

I laid him on the seat, his head towards the end, and took off his gag. I leaned over him and held my breath so I could hear his.

"Shit," I mumbled when I couldn't hear any air leaving or entering his body. I sat up and quickly started chest compressions. It was hard to balance a jet ski on the water while standing and trying to give someone CPR.

I leaned down and tilted his head back. I placed my lips over his, giving him mouth-to-mouth. I sat up and quickly started doing chest compressions again. My confidence slowly sank the longer it took for me to wake him up.

"Come on, Matt," I mumbled. "Please don't. . . Please come back to me."

The second I pulled my lips away from him, he coughed up water. I rolled him onto his side so he could get the water out of his lungs. Once he was done coughing, I gently rolled him back over.

"Matt?" I said out of breath. "Are you okay? Talk to me. Please."

He slowly opened his eyes, it taking him a second before he recognized me.

"Y/N?" He said, his voice soft. "You saved me."

"If you forgot," I chuckled, "that's kind of our job."

I held my breath as he slowly sat up. He looked around as he ran his fingers through his wet hair. "Where are we?"

"About ten miles outside Southward Dock."

My cheeks turned red when I saw the way Matt was looking at me. "What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he stuttered.

"We should get back to shore," I stuttered, clearing my throat. "My dad and the sheriff are waiting for us. They have some questions before they can arrest Leeds and Thorpe."

I sat in front of him, instantly turning the jet ski on. Matt sat up, scooting closer to me.

"Want me to drive?" He asked.

I looked over my shoulder at him, sending him a knowing look. He put his hands up in defense and laughed before wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Just kidding," he said, his smirk coming through in his voice. "I see you still don't like jokes."

"Only when you tell them," I playfully shot back.

                       * * * * *

When we got back to shore, EMTs were waiting for Matt, and my father was waiting for me. As my dad and the sheriff talked to me, I was distracted by watching the EMTs take care of Matt. Several times, he looked over at me and sent me a reassuring smile.

When they were finally done talking to me, the sheriff and my dad went to talk to Matt. As they figured out how to handle Thorpe, I forced myself to go back to the lifeguard shack. I was putting away supplies when the shack door opened. I turned around, my breath getting stuck in my throat when I saw Matt standing in the doorway.

Before I could stop myself, I ran over to him. I jumped into his arms, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck. He was shocked for a second before I felt him wrap his arms tightly around me.

When the relief wore off and the embarrassment set in, I quickly let him go, wrapping my arms around myself.

"I'm sorry," I stuttered. "I just. . . I thought you were. . . I thought they might. . ."

"Y/N," he cut me off as he gently grabbed my hands. "I'm okay. Thanks to you."

He let me go when he realized he was holding me longer than necessary. I looked up at him, both of us slightly embarrassed. I bit my lip, nervously chewing on it as silence fell between us. I looked back over at him when he cleared his throat.

"And here I was thinking you hated me," he scoffed.

I sent him an annoyed look as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. "Really?" I sighed. "After everything, you go back to being your cocky asshole self? Can't we just. . ."

Matt cut me off by pulling me into his chest and pressed his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and instantly started moving my lips against his.

Just as fast as he initiated it, Matt broke the kiss. He pressed his forehead to mine, slightly rubbing our noses together.

"Thanks," he whispered, "for saving my life."

"Anytime," I shrugged, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's what lifeguards do."

[weirdlyobsessedwithegos]

Always Welcome

Okay, okay, okay, this is so, so specific and self indulgent like you wouldn’t believe, but I just had to write it when the idea popped into my head.

Eric comes to your and Dark’s apartment late at night.

Eric had never actually been to your and Dark’s apartment before, but he had been outside once. You had left something at headquarters one time, and Eric had offered to swing by with it on his way home. It had just been a quick stop by, but now he finds himself returning here none the less.

His dad had been in a foul mood all day, and when he had yelled at Eric for something that wasn’t his fault for the third time that day, Eric had left. He didn’t come here first, going to the park where he usually went to calm down. He sat on a bench, hardly noticing the rain starting until he was drenched and shivering. He ran back to his car, and without really thinking, set his course for something familiar and calming.

Walking down the outside walkway, he nervously counts numbers, trying to keep his shivers to a minimum. He’s soaking wet, cold, and the fact that’s it’s still raining, dark, and no roof over the walkway doesn’t help. He finally reaches the right door, knocking before he can change his mind. He can’t hear any movements from inside, and is debating to leave when the door opens to reveal you. You gasp when you see him, Eric gives you a shaky smile.

“Oh Eric, come in, come in.” You take hold of the sleeve of his jacket, dragging him inside. “Oh my god Eric, you’re soaking. We gotta get you dry quick, you’re gonna get sick otherwise.” Eric hears a voice coming from a closed door, he can’t hear what it’s saying, apparently you can since you answer back, half yelling back while you help him take his coat off.

“It’s just Eric Dark.” No more sound from the room, but you seem too occupied to wait for an answer.

“Take off your shoes,” you point to a white door next to the door where Darkiplier’s voice was coming from, “And go in there. I’ll bring you something dry to wear.” Eric does as he’s told, finding it to be a decent sized bathroom. The tiles are warm under his feet, making him almost want to lay down and sleep just right then and there. You come into the room, carrying what turns out to be a pair of grey sweats, a black t-shirt, and some red socks.

“Here you go, some dry clothes.” You put the clothes on the sink, pulling out a towel from underneath it. You put it on top of the clothes.

“Just put the clothes on the floor, the heated tiles will dry and warm them up all nice.” You turn to look at at Eric, noticing his teary eyes. Taking a few steps forward, you take his hands in yours.

“Hey, hey, do you wanna talk about it?” Eric is tempted, but shakes his head.  He’s not sure he could stop if he started to talk, broken dam and all that. You look worried, but don’t push.

“Alright, alright, just get changed and a little drier, and I’ll be right out here.” You give a little squeeze to his hands, before dropping them and stepping out of the room, letting the door shut behind you with a soft click. Eric stands there for a little, just looking at the door and feeling the warmth underneath him. He’s not shivering anymore, but he’s still cold. 

Getting his wet clothes off seems almost like a chore, but Eric manages to finally start. He manages to change into the dry clothes, making sure to dry himself off as best as he can. The clothes are soft, and they smell of you, and Darkiplier too, he realises with a start. The fact that he’s wearing clothes he’s not sure who belongs to makes him flustered.

He catches himself in the mirror above the sink. His hair is a mess, even more than usual, his glasses are slightly askew, his cheeks are slightly red from the lingering cold (and his blushing), but he’s slowly getting warmer. He tries to smooth down his hair at least a little, but it doesn’t help much. Unsure where to put the used towel, he folds it up neatly and puts it next to his wet clothes. Stepping out of the bathroom, he spots you pulling out a blanket and pillows from a basket. You look up when the door closes behind Eric, smiling softly when you see him standing there. Eric tries to return it, but it’s shaky at best.

“Hey there.”

“Hey.” His voice is low, unsure, and your heart aches for him.

“It’s not much, but we don’t have a guest room, but the couch is all yours.”

“It’s,, It’s fine.” You walk over to him, taking his hands in yours once more.

“You sure you are okay?”

“Ye..Yeah.” Eric sniffs and you look worried again. Eric doesn’t want you to, se he tries to give you a reassuring smile. It only half-works.

“You want something to drink or eat? Some soup, water, tea, anything else?”

“Some water would, would be nice.”

“Okay.” Letting go of your hands (Eric wishes you hadn’t), you step into the kitchen, finding a bottle from the fridge. Eric shuffles over to the couch, and you follow him, putting the water bottle down on the coffee table when he sits down. 

“If you need anything else, just let me know, okay?” Eric nods, and you smile at him before disappearing behind the door he assumes is the bedroom.

Laying down on the couch, with the pillow under his head and the blanket pulled up under his chin, he finds himself staring at the ceiling. Unable to sleep. 

The blanket is soft between his fingers, and the pillow gives the perfect amount of support, but still he finds himself unable to close his eyes for long. All manner of thoughts are spinning, spinning, spinning, in his head.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been when he hears the door to the bedroom open. Moving his head ever so slightly, he sees you slowly shuffle out, going straight for the bathroom, closing the door behind you as softly as you can, clearly trying to keep quiet. The door to the bedroom is left slightly ajar, and Eric can’t help but look. He can’t see much, only the edge a dresser, and he finds himself wondering what it looks like. Deeply lost in his thoughts, Eric doesn’t notice you stepping out, only being made aware of you when he hears a soft whisper of his name. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Eric looks to you, he can only barely see you in mostly dark apartment.

“No, no, I just couldn’t... couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh, okay.” Eric thinks you’re going to move on and go back into the bedroom, but instead you stay right where you are. He can’t tell what you’re going to do, but he’s definitely not expecting you to stroll over to him and stretch out a hand to him and telling him to get up. Confused, he does so, letting you take one of his hands in yours. You drag him into the bedroom, making him even more confused. You pull open one of the drawers on the dresser while still holding his hand, pulling out a shirt and tossing it on the bed, or rather, right on top of Dark where he lays on his back in the bed.

“Dark, put a shirt on.” Dark groans, but does as he is told. Eric catches a glimpse of a grey and scarred torso, and then Dark lays back down, closing his eyes and seemingly going right back to sleep. 

“And under the covers you go.” You push at Eric’s shoulders, making him first sit down on the bed with a little bounce. He hears a sound come from Darkiplier, and freezes completely. 

You’re having none of it, pushing and prodding at him until he’s under the covers. He’s on his side, facing you as you slide under too. You get close to him, pulling him into you so he’s tucked under your chin. Eric hesitates, unsure of what to do. You don’t let go of him while he figures out what’s happening, moving a hand to comb trough his hair. He eventually puts his arms around your back. You hum.

“Sleep now.” Eric doesn’t think he can, but he finds his eyelids getting heavy fast, and then he’s asleep.

-----

A few hours later, Eric startles awake from a dream. Whatever it was about slips his mind as soon as he is awake, he doesn’t even know if it was one of the bad one or one the good ones. Taking stock of himself, he finds that he feels okay, which means it hadn’t been too bad. 

He realises that he’s still curled into you, hands twisted up in the front of your shirt instead of the back. He slowly unfurls his hands, moving his hands up to his own chest. In doing so, he suddenly becomes aware of another arm slung across his waist from behind, and the warm body pressing into his back. 

Darkiplier is right behind him. 

He draws in a sharp breath and goes stock still and stiff. He hears a noise that he can’t identify, and feels a warm exhale on the back of his neck. A squeeze from the arm across his waist.

“Eric, go back to sleep.” Darkiplier’s voice is low, barely above a rumble. Eric has to hold back a squeak, but manage to nod. A sigh comes from behind him, but he doesn’t hear anything more.

Darkiplier is surprisingly warm against him. Eric can’t help comparing him to a weighted heating blanket, where he feels Darkiplier curled up and around him.

Eventually, he does actually manage to fall asleep again, still sandwiched between you and Darkiplier. 

When Eric wakes up the next time, it looks like it’s at least morning, judging by the small slither of light he can see coming through the curtains.

Eric is on his back now, and you’re sleeping with your head pillowed on his chest. As he becomes more awake and aware of the world, he realises that there’s a hand in his hair. 

Darkiplier is sitting with his back against the headboard, steaming hot coffee cup on the night stand, a book in the hand not currently in Eric’s hair. As Eric moves to look at him, Darkiplier looks down at Eric. He’s not smiling, but he’s the calmest Eric has ever seen him.

“Good morning.” Before Eric can answer, you groan.

“It’s too early for a good morning.” Darkiplier huffs as you sit up, covers pooling around your waist while you rub at your eyes.

“Is there still coffee in the pot?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Eric, you still take yours with a lot of sugar and creamer right?” Surprised by the sudden attention shift to him, Eric just nods.

“Great, I’ll be right back.” You get out of the bed, barely awake judging by your slow movements and stretching while you walk. Darkiplier’s hand leaves Eric’s hair to reach for his own coffee, taking a sip while Eric just stares at the door. 

The sound of the cup being sat back down on the night stand brakes Eric’s stare, shifting his attention to Darkiplier, confusion clearly written all over his face. Darkiplier chuckles. It’s the first time Eric has ever heard it, and coupled with the messy hair and comfy clothes, it almost makes Darkiplier look domestic.

“Yeah, they tend to do that.” Before Eric can ask what he means, you’re back, handing Eric his coffee as he sits up. You sit down cross legged on the bed next to him, turned towards the two of them, and start talking. One of your hands rests casually on his knee, seemingly put there without much thought. Eric tries his hardest to not blush, but he can’t help but be flustered. 

A good amount of time passes like that, the three of you talking about everything and nothing.

You actually end up cooking breakfast, eggs and bacon cooked to perfection. Eric is not used to so much attention, so he’s mostly quiet, but neither you or Darkiplier seems to mind. Eric also finds himself happier than he has been in a while, listening to you and Darkiplier discuss details of an old movie he has never seen while you all eat.

Time has turned morning into day when he changes back into his now dry clothes. He’s slow to do so, not really wanting to go, but he knows he should, not only for works sake, but to not disturb you and Darkiplier further.

After he has put his shoes on, you grab a hold of his shoulders, stopping him from leaving just yet.

“Eric, you have to know you’re always welcome here, alright?” Eric nods, but eyes Darkiplier where he’s writing in some documents at the dinner table. You see where his gaze is going.

“Isn’t that right Dark?” Darkiplier looks up from his papers, giving you both a once over.

“Of course little one.” Darkiplier grins. Eric isn’t sure if he’s is referring to you or him, making him more flustered. You pull him into a hug, which Eric is quick to return. 

When your arms leave him, he almost wants to pull them back, but he doesn’t. He says his goodbyes, closing the door softly behind him as he leaves.

As soon as the door closes behind Eric, you hear Dark’s low laugh from behind you.

“What?” You turn around to face Dark, where he’s pretending to write on his work while grinning.

“You are not subtle.” You huff, walking over to him, plopping yourself in his lap-

“You can’t deny he’s cute.” Dark hums.

“That I cannot.”

[levinneheart]

Trouble Ahead

Prologue

A collab w/ @old-me-is-gone

➳ Description: This is a story between enemies; a middle school friend turned salty, a high school partner turned full debate sessions, and an unfortunate girl stuck in the middle… it seems there is going to be trouble ahead.

➳ Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Feisty!F!Photographer!Reader x Akaashi Keiji

➳ Prompt: Frenemies, Enemies to Lovers, Love Triangle, Shy Confessions

➳ Genre: FLUFF, ANGST

➳ Word Count: 4,010

➳ Written by: @old-me-is-gone and co-edited by (banner also by): @levinneheart

➳ Disclaimer: Pictures used are not ours and are all credited to their owners. Haikyuu characters are owned by Haruichi Furudate.

Routes: Wit’s End || Partner in Crime

Middle school is meant to be a time where kids can develop and find themselves. In [Y/N]’s case, middle school was the time she garnered a skill and adept talent for photography while also meeting her first friend after moving from Tokyo.

Standing by the counter where she was waiting for her recent photos to be developed while she picked at her nails. The darkroom had become a place of solace for her. Moving from Tokyo to the middle of nowhere, a place also known as Miyagi, hadn’t been easy and starting middle school without any friends was even harder. Since no one made an effort to at least try and befriend her within the first month, [Y/N] had decided that she didn’t need anyone else. So being in the darkroom seemed to be the only valid option for her.

When her mom asked her about her day, she would ramble on and on about the fake experiences she had at school. In her fake world, she was popular and had a lot of friends. In reality, she was just the weird loner girl who took photos of trashcans around the cafeteria. [Y/N] had the darkroom all to herself as she was the only member of the photography club. Although, sometimes other clubs would use her clubroom to store excess club materials and such.

Leaving her to have a single counter for her photos. To make it an actual working darkroom, she used a red tissue paper that she had attached to the hanging ceiling light with a rubber band and blacked out the windows with random cardboard from the kitchens. The other two walls that she didn’t use were reserved for the volleyball club to shove extra netting and brooms into.

She really should have printed out a single paper that wrote: ‘Please Knock, Photos in Developing Stage’, that’s at least what she learned from the hindsight when the door opened again for the nth time and she was greeted with a single sliver of light. [Y/N]’s eye went wide as she stopped picking at her nails. “Wait! Don’t-”

The door slide completely open and [Y/N] squinted at all the sudden light. When she realized what had happened, she rushed to the tins of developing liquid and tried to cover them with her hands so her photos wouldn’t be exposed to light.

“Damn it.” She groaned. She tugged at her hair as her photos went streaky and the coloring blended in together from the light. [Y/N] felt a pang of sadness hit her heart as she whipped around to chastise the person who opened the door.

Standing in the doorway was an oddly tall blond boy. His hair seemed to glow from all the light streaming in. After rubbing her eyes slightly, [Y/N] could make out the glasses on his face and recognized him from the volleyball club. Tsukishima Kei.

Always pleasant visitor. She thought sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“What the hell are you doing just hanging out in a darkroom?” Tsukishima walked in and inspected the shelves, looking for some equipment.

“Hey! Wait a minute! You should have knocked! Because of you, all my photos are ruined!” She exclaimed, huffing and stomping her foot as she brought Tsukishima’s attention to her by acting tough.

Tsukishima tilted his head before rolling his eyes and grabbing an air pump. Tossing it into the air before catching it again. “Because of me, your photos are ruined?” He scoffed at her, his tone was condescending and sarcastic.

[Y/N] stretched her hands out and gave a quick ‘duh’ in response. Tsukishima gave her a wicked smirk that begged to be punched off of his face. [Y/N] didn’t care if she was a lot shorter than him, she just wanted him to apologize for ruining her photos.

When Tsukishima started to walk towards the exit, [Y/N] ran to block the entrance while holding her hand out on either side of the frame and looking up at him as she sneered, “You need to apologize.” Tsukishima fake lunged at her, causing [Y/N] to flinch and bring her arms to her body while he grabbed hold of her shoulder and moved her away from the door with ease.

“I don’t apologize to entitled brats like you.”

“Entitled brat my ass,” She mumbled before chasing after him. “Get back here you tall excuse for a human!” When [Y/N] realized she wasn’t going to be able to stop him with force so she swallowed her pride and jumped on his back, wrapping her legs around his waist and holding onto his neck with her arms.

“What the fu-” Tsukishima turned around, before trying to pry her off.

“Not until you apologize!” [Y/N] argued.

“I’m sorry. Now, get off of me!”

“It doesn’t sound sincere enough.”

Tsukishima thought back to all the times he had jumped on Akiteru’s back, and how his brother had managed to get him to hop off all on his own. So, remembering what Akiteru did, Tsukishima dropped the air pump and started pretending he was being chocked.

[Y/N] immediately hopped off and ran in front of Tsukishima and held onto his shoulders. “Holy hell. Are you alright?”

Tsukishima held back a smirk as he faked being upset. “No. You really hurt me.”

“What can I do to make it up to you. Hell, I'm really sorry. Like really sorry.” [Y/N] rubbed her elbow and shuffled her feet. [Y/N] rubbed her elbow and shuffled her feet in guilt.

“I’ll think of something.” Tsukishima would never admit it but in the short period of time that he had known the strange (h/c) haired girl, he wanted to be around her more. Nobody had ever had the courage, or sheer idiocy to even try and stand up to him before.

[Y/N] threw her hands up into the air and glared at Tsukishima. “Great, you asshole! Now, I feel indebted to you for some emotional reason.” She picked up the air pump and started walking down the steps towards the gym when Tsukishima called out to her.

“What are you doing?” He walked down to her with a few short strides in his step.

“Helping you. I can work off this icky guilt by helping you. Okay? Let's go.”

Months went by after that. Tsukishima and [Y/N] most definitely didn’t become friends. They just sat together at lunch and hung out at the park. [Y/N] went to all of Tsukishima’s volleyball games whilst Tsukishima went to all of [Y/N]’s art shows. So no, they weren’t friends. They were, merely, people who shared a common experience and decided to continue building upon that shared experience.

Then, news of [Y/N] moving back to Tokyo happened during their third year in middle school. Someone heard [Y/N] talking to her dad on the phone about it, and eventually it spread like wildfire. Some people were pretty upset, after having gotten to know [Y/N]. Other people just honestly didn’t care, but instead wanted in on the drama.

The drama was that apparently since Tsukishima still didn’t know that [Y/N] was moving. And the entire school wanted to see him explode when he finally found out. Which meant that hordes of people hovered around Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, and [Y/N] as they went about their days.

“Do people just actively look for ways to piss me off.” Tsukishima grumbled as he took another spoonful of his chicken noodle soup. Tsukishima felt the eyes of the people hiding to the side of the wall right behind him.

“Tsukki, I honestly doubt it's that!” Yamaguchi comforted. [Y/N] was busy snapping photos of the trees far off while Tsukishima let his eyes and mind wander as he stared at her trying to find the right angle to take a picture. His Adam's apple bobbed when she stood up and stretched her back out. She knelt back down to take a photo but lost balance and fell on her butt, she laughed lightly at herself before getting back up. Tsukishima could feel his heart pound in his chest and his face heat up.

“Are you alright? You're looking a little red there Tsukki?’ Yamaguchi took a bite of the cookie his mom packed for him, talking with his mouth full.

“I'm fine. But, hey, why have so many people been like, extra nice to L/n? A whole bunch of guys from the volleyball club pitched in and bought her a polaroid camera.” Tsukishima wished that the group of underclassmen would have asked him to help pitch in to buy the yellow camera that she adores so much. She never left it alone, keeping it tucked away in its case amongst her school bag.

“Oh? [Y/N]’s moving to Tokyo. Remember?”

Tsukishima dropped his soup, the contents spilling all over the courtyard as he tightens his fists. “What?” He growls out while Yamaguchi slaps his hand over his mouth.

Mumbling his apologizes profusely, “[Y/N] said not to say anything, Tsukki please don’t hate [Y/N], she was just doing what she thought was best- “Tsukki, where are you going?” Tsukishima slams his hands against the table and pushes off, storming to where [Y/N] was standing.

“[Y/N]!” Tsukishima never yelled at her. So, she whips her head around to see a red-faced Tsukishima. [Y/N] thought she saw smoke coming out of his ears. “Were you going to tell me you were moving, or am I just an afterthought?” [Y/N] almost drops her camera from shock. She holds it tight to her chest, cradling it as she cowers away from the raging boy in front of her.

“I was gonna tell you.”

“No, you weren’t.” He spat. He gripped her forearm to pull her closer but when he did, [Y/N] dropped her yellow polaroid camera and it shattered, glass and parts of the camera flew around the concrete courtyard while her eyes glazed over with tears.

“You jerk! Don’t try talking to me, until you're ready to apologize for being such an asshole!” Tears fell from her eyes and spilling over her face before swinging her satchel over her shoulder as she marched to the school building. Tsukishima’s hands ran to his hair, pulling it tightly as he let out a short scream that sounded like a grunt. Yamaguchi walked into the school building and he knew, there wasn’t going to be a way to comfort Tsukishima’s mood when he got like this.

[Y/N] packed up and got ready to move. Putting all of her belongings into suitcases and duffle bags. When she was putting her pictures into her collection of shoeboxes, she glanced at the ones of her and Tsukishima. Her favorite picture was one she had originally given to Tsukishima for his birthday, but she liked it so much she had her mom scan it and print out another copy that [Y/N] laminated.

In the photo, [Y/N] had rubbed birthday cake all over Tsukishima’s face. Giving him a frosting mustache and his hair mixed in with chocolate cake. She pulled him in close, and Tsukishima rested his arm over his shoulders, he gave a side smile while rolling his eyes. Then she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, getting a photo of her giggling as Tsukishima turned to face her with a blushing face and cake all over him, his eyebrows shot up into his forehead.

Then [Y/N] remembered back at how he had grabbed her arm and made her drop her Polaroid camera. In a fury, she ripped up the photo, sliding down her bed and staring at the now empty wall that was once full of pictures of friends and family.

The next day, while saying goodbye to Yamaguchi, when her mom asked where Tsukishima was, [Y/N] simply said, “We aren’t talking at the moment.”

“Are you sure? I can always call his mom, and we can wait for him to come over so he can say goodbye?” Her mom waited outside the car, but [Y/N] got into the backseat and buckled her seatbelt, refusing to say more on the matter while Yamaguchi waved goodbye to her car that had begun driving off. He hoped that Tsukishima had gotten his text message. And he did, as of right now, he was begging his mom to drive him to [Y/N]’s house.

Tsukishima ran after her parents’ car, hopping out of his mom’s car and tried chasing after [Y/N]. Before realizing, she had already driven too far that his yells for her to come back fell to deaf ears. Tsukishima fell to the ground and stayed silent as he rubbed his thumb of the package of a yellow Polaroid camera that had a simple ‘I’m sorry’ written on a green sticky note.

When his chest began to heave, and his heart felt weighed down while watching her car got out of view. Because, for the first time, he longed for someone who was now gone. Someone who was really gone. And every day over the entire summer, he beat himself up more and more for not apologizing. Because not apologizing had meant that he lost the person he had grown closest to.

[Y/N] was used to going to new schools and moving around a lot in primary school, she had to adjust to all of the changes. But high school was a big jump. A bigger jump than any other jump she had ever taken. Luckily, Fukurodani had accepted her based on both her grades and her talent in photography, saying that such a talent must be nurtured with the right tutelage and proper education. Which [Y/N] thought was just a bunch of pretentious bullshit in order to try and use her grades on their average grade scale.

Needless to say, [Y/N] started her first day. Her dad had bought her a brand-new blue polaroid to make up for what had begun to be known around the L/n household as the ‘Tsukishima Incident’. Armed with a positive attitude and her blue camera, [Y/N] took the first step out of her house and into her high school career.

Trains move fast. And the train system was just so complex and so utterly beautiful. People rush around without a second thought. [Y/N] just had to capture that. Taking photos as she stepped onto the Fukurodani train though, probably wasn’t a good idea though. Because she bumped into someone and dropped her camera. When she heard the plastic crack she cringed and she turned around to face who she had run into.

A boy. A cute boy at that. One with dark blue eyes, with green floating around them. His black hair seemed to be slightly curly, or at the very least slightly wavy. [Y/N] opens her mouth slightly to try and say something but, no words come out as the boy stares to the side of her, not meeting her eyes. [Y/N]’s first thoughts were: wow okay, he’s hot and he’s intimidating.

Akaashi sighed before muttering, “Please pay attention, you could hurt someone.” He didn’t want to stare at her, so he opted for not meeting her eyes. Taking a mental note of her broken camera, and the way she didn’t wear the school skirt but chose to wear the pants instead. Not that he would admit that he was starting at her hips, or her legs for that matter.

“Sorry!”

“It's fine. Just don’t go bumping into people again okay?” Akaashi got off the train, the girl hopping off as well.

“Yeah of course.” [Y/N] paused, wondering if this could be the amplest time to make a friend at her new school, but when she looked back to him, he was gone.

Finally arriving to class, [Y/N] slipped into her new seat, and she bounced her leg up and down. Being in a mixed class with first and second years was going to be pretty exciting. She thought about all the people she could learn from and all the interesting things she would learn throughout the year. When the pretty boy walked in. [Y/N] stopped bouncing her leg in favor of just staying frozen.

Embarrassment flooded her senses. Akaashi sits down and makes conversation with the fellow second year next to him. [Y/N] slides down her seat and tries to cover her face with her long sleeve beige sweater. When the teacher walks in and brings the class to attention, [Y/N] clears her throat lightly and sits back up. Hoping that the boy doesn’t notice her sitting in the back row.

“For the rest of the year, I’m going to assign you partners.” Students immediately turn to look at each other and whisper about being partners. “Partners that I will personally assign.” Disgruntled cries erupt for a second before the teacher shoots a quick glare onto their pupils.

The teacher lists of names, and students shuffle around to sit next to each other. With every passing pair, [Y/N] feels her heart race.

“Akaashi Keiji and L/n [Y/N].” [Y/N] looks around for a moment, wondering about this ‘Akaashi’ guy before her throat goes dry. Sitting down next to her is the same guy she bumped into on the train. Akaashi recognizes [Y/N] from the train.

For the first week the two don’t talk. Merely passing homework between themselves to correct or when [Y/N] forgot a pencil that one time so Akaashi lent one of his to her. They were resigned to this emotional withdrawal from each other. Until they were assigned a project.

“I think it should be on the history of the modern developing process for film and such.” [Y/N] throws out. Tapping her pen against her notebook, accidentally causing ink spots to freckle across the page. Akaashi takes the pen away from her, in order to stop the incessant tapping sound that was beginning to distract him from coming up with an idea for the project.

“Well, the project should be something simple and straightforward. So, how about the history of volleyball? It can be traced back clearly through the Olympics and all of the data is already there.” Akaashi titles her page with VOLLEYBALL HISTORY. [Y/N] rolls her eyes before crossing it out and writing Camera Film Development History. Akaashi pulls out another piece of paper and titles it with the volleyball one. To which [Y/N] wrinkles her nose, before crossing it out and putting her idea down on the paper.

“Stop it.” Akaashi grumbles.

“Never.” [Y/N] writes her idea down and rushes up to the teacher. Akaashi shoots up and grabs her by the hand, pulling her into his chest.

Akaashi promised he would never use the trick Bokuto taught him, but considering the dire situation he was in, he decided that he had no choice. Leaning his head close to hers, [Y/N]’s eyes widened as she moved her head. “Let’s use my idea, Princess.”

[Y/N] fake a gag before slipping out of his grasp. “Ew, no. Never do that again.” When she tries to go to the teacher again, Akaashi groans before pulling her away again. “Let go of me!” She states, trying not to raise her voice.

“Never.” Akaashi mimics her tone from earlier. And [Y/N] turns her face into an image of disgust.

“I said to let go of me!” [Y/N] kicks Akaashi’s shin, making him yelp out in pain. The teacher, having been aware of their argument from the beginning, just sighs and sends them off to the principal’s office.

Akaashi isn’t angry, he’s just upset. But because of a wild and reckless first year, he is the one being punished. Even though [Y/N] is also going to the office, he feels like he’s the one being criticized. He wants to protest and say that she was the one who kicked him, and she was the one who refused to do a compromise with him.

[Y/N] bites down on her tongue as she sits outside the Principal’s office. It's only the second Monday of the year and she is already in trouble, so much for making a good impression on others.

Regardless, through the months that pass, Akaashi and [Y/N] still argue. They don’t physically fight; they just bicker incessantly. The seats in front of them and behind them were vacated once the students had realized their fighting wasn’t going to stop.

[Y/N] tried her best to fit in. But when she was informed that there wasn’t going to be a Photography club, she felt deflated. But when a pair of girls stood around the entrance of the school trying to hand out fliers, [Y/N] too the opportunity to say hi.

The girls, that [Y/N] was now informed of as Yukie and Kaori, asked her if she would be willing to be a manager for the volleyball team which [Y/N] happened to be familiar with, so she agreed. The two girls invited [Y/N] to start training as a manager during a training camp, to which [Y/N] happily agreed to as well.

The training camp had started off well enough. All the third years had started off introducing themselves and had politely begun to ask about [Y/N] and her likes as well as her dislikes. Akaashi spotted her before she spotted him. He groaned and pulled Bokuto aside. “You have got to be messing with me, right?” Akaashi ran a hand through his hair before toying with his hands.

“What do you mean Akaashi?” Bokuto folded his arms while he tilted his head to the side.

“She’s insufferable.” Akaashi stated, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I dunno, [L/n]-kun seems really nice.” Bokuto tapped his chin while shrugging.

“I had to go to the principal's office because of her, remember.” Akaashi leaves out the finer details of the reason why he went to the office though, figuring that Bokuto didn’t need to know all of the information.

Bokuto walks back towards [Y/N] before calling out Akaashi, “She might be different outside of school, you never know ‘Kaashi.”

Akaashi leans his back against the brick wall. Exhaling deeply and closing his eyes. He doesn’t even notice when [Y/N] walks up to him and inspects his jersey. When she taps his shoulder, Akaashi flinched a bit before sighing deeply to calm his nerves. He tries to walk away and [Y/N] immediately grabbed hold of his hand.

“I'm sorry it feels like I'm invading on your life. But the third years are all really nice to me.” [Y/N] holds her hands behind her back as she digs the tip of her shoe into the ground. “And I was wondering if we could actually have a civil conversation about our project. I'm willing to compromise now, if you are.” She looks at him with puppy dog eyes.

How can Akaashi have it in his heart to deny her? When her tone got ever so soft when she talked about the third years being kind to her? Akaashi doesn’t like the way his heart bubbles up at her actions.

“[Y/N]?”

Tsukishima drops his duffel bag, his arms going limp at the sight of her with a second year from Fukurodani and wearing its uniform. And he didn’t like the sight of her smiling since the last memories of her he had were of her with wet eyes and rage. Tsukishima rushes to pick up his bag. Yamaguchi, who had seen the whole scene unfurl, ran after Tsukishima.

Once Tsukishima had stopped, now hiding in the bus, Yamaguchi had finally caught up with his friend. Yamaguchi grew tired of the way he could dance around the topic of [Y/N]. She was their friend, the three of them grew up together. “Tsukishima. What are your feelings for [Y/N]? Tell me the truth.” Yamaguchi crossed his arms and Tsukishima looked up at him with a blank stare, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

[Y/N] only saw Tsukishima for a moment before he rushed away. She looked back to Akaashi, whose face was slightly red but he still had a blank look plastered on. She had a choice to make. Go after her broken friendship with a childhood friend, or stay with the new and intriguing project partner.

Either way, she knew that there would be trouble ahead.

Routes: Wit’s End || Partner in Crime

[kpopfanfictrash]

For Me, It’s You

Member: Jimin (BTS)

Prompt: Song!drabble, inspired by For Me, It’s You by Lo Moon

Rating: R

Genre: childhood friends to lovers!AU (THANK YOU @underthejoon​ for this amazing header, ur the best)

Warnings: angst, estranged parents, references to former underage drinking

WC: 4,015

↳ part of my 30K milestone drabble game

You should not have come home this weekend.

Honestly, you knew better but allowed yourself to be swayed by the guilt of your siblings. There were the ones who insisted your parents wanted you here, who said things would not be the same without you and you fell for their lies – hook, line and sinker. Never mind that, when you texted your plane flight to your mom, it took her nearly a day to respond.

In complete denial, you chalked this up to timing. It was not. As soon as you arrived from the airport, you sensed the chill in the air. Your little brother – Dean’s list, summa cum laude, McKinsey consultant, Henry – was welcomed in with warm hugs and cookies. You barely received a terse smile and ‘welcome home.’

Even so, you deluded yourself into thinking things would be fine. You would lie low, make it through the weekend and return to the city unscathed. So long as you did not bring up your job, or the argument, everything would be okay. Sadly, you underestimated how disappointed your parents were. It took only two glasses of wine at Thanksgiving dinner for your mother to let you know exactly how she felt.

“When do you have to be back at work, Henry?” she asked, accepting the vat of potatoes.

“Monday,” Henry said, setting down his glass. “Working on a big client of ours right now – unfortunately, can’t take much time off.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” Your mother beamed as she replaced the spoon in the bowl. “It’s nice to see you hard at work. Unlike some people your age.”

Everyone around the table stiffened. It was not necessary for your mother to say your name in order to make her feelings known. The point was clear in the way she set the bowl down, looked your way and waited a beat.

Refusing to take the bait, you looked down. You had not been hungry before but, upon hearing her comment, lost all appetite entirely.

“Let’s not talk about that right now,” said Jia, your sister. Hastily, she shot a pleading glance at your dad. “It’s the holidays.”

“That doesn’t diminish the reality of the situation,” your father said sternly. Turning your way, his brow furrowed. “So, Y/N. Have you found yourself yet?”

Cheeks slowly heating, you pushed your plate back from the table. “I’m working on my drawings, yeah. If that’s what you’re asking.”

He made a dismissive noise in his throat. “All that money towards college – wasted.”

“Dad,” Jia said. “It wasn’t wasted.” She scowled, looking between your parents.

Jia chose to become a dentist; a perfectly respectable career path in their opinion. Still, she had always been protective over you and Henry. When you were younger, your parents often worked in the evenings, and it often fell upon your older sister to help.

“Let’s just eat, okay?” Henry glanced around the table. “It’s Thanksgiving. Let’s be glad we’re all here.”

The table was quiet for a few minutes, everyone digging into their respective plates. Then, your mom sighed and said, “I suppose I’m thankful two of my children followed our example to form steady careers. At least I can sleep knowing I won’t be in the poor house when I’m old.”

“Mom!” Jia blurted out, looking appalled.

Henry jumped to your defense, too. “That’s not fair, mom –”

“I’ll tell you what’s fair,” interrupted your father. His voice somehow drowned out the rest. “Wasting all your hard-earned money on a fancy college degree, only to throw it away. Living disrespectfully, coming back to our house and having the nerve to –”

“I bought my own plane ticket, dad,” you interjected. “My website is doing really well, and I’m working on illustrations for this book, and I –”

“Don’t interrupt!” he exclaimed. “This is exactly the lack of respect your mother and I are talking about.”

With a loud screech, you pushed your chair away to stand up. “I’m done eating,” you announced. Stiffly, you looked at your mom.  “Doesn’t sound like anything’s changed since the last time we spoke. Thank you for cooking. I’ll clean up after myself.”

With that, you turned around and strode into the kitchen. The arguing continued after you left, with Jia jumping in to combat your parents. Even Henry was angry, protesting he and Jia wanted you there, but you were no longer listening. It did not matter much, either way. You should have known better than to think today would go well.

The last time you spoke to your parents was in the spring, the day you told them you were quitting your job to pursue illustration full-time. They were not happy, simply put and after the initial, blow-out fight, you did not speak at all. Obviously, they still had a lot to say.

Retreating up the stairs to your childhood bedroom, you slammed shut the door and collapsed on your bed. Being in this room made you feel like a child and in many ways, you still were. It did not matter that you had been able to drink for four years and vote for seven. In many ways, you were only just beginning to progress on your own.

Downstairs, you still heard the debate raging on. It was always like this, when you were little. Even when you were not the one arguing, there was another fight to be had. You could not blame your parents for that, not really. It was the only way they understood discipline – loud voices and the overbearing idea of respect.

Eventually, things would calm down. You knew they would. Eventually, Jia would help your mom clean up and Henry would play piano in the next room. For a few hours, maybe, they would be like a family – except you would not be there.

Not this time.

Unable to replay the events any longer, you roll out of bed and unlatch your window. Prying it open, the cold air hits your face. Shivering, you stare into the night and reach out for your sweater. Your childhood home was built with a small, wrap-around porch over the front.

When you were a child, you often climbed out here to escape. When you were in your teens, you came out here to drink, or smoke, or journal about how your parents were ruining your life. It has been a long time since you remembered that part of yourself.

Glancing away, you see lights on in the Park house. They must be finishing Thanksgiving dinner as well, hopefully not in as dramatic fashion as yours. You cannot imagine it is, since the Parks adore their two sons – Jimin and Jiwoo. Besides, both of their children adopted traditionally successful career paths. Jiwoo is in medical school and Jimin recently passed the bar.

Exhaling, you glance again at the rooftop. The fighting can still be heard downstairs and so, pulling on your sweater, you climb out on the porch. Quickly shutting the window, you find yourself ensconced in blessed silence. No disappointed parents berating you. No siblings rising to your defense. Only silence, the wind and far-off sound of cars on the highway.

Settling onto the roof, you lean against the side of the house. The sky overhead is clear, a silver crescent of moon hanging above your head. As you breathe in and out, your breath frosts in mid-air. It is chilly enough you are glad for your sweater and still, your hands stiffen with cold. Pulling your sleeves down, you relish in the silence.

“Y/N?”

Head jerking sideways, your heart nearly stops when you see a face looking back. At the edge of the overhang, clinging onto the roof is a familiar – well, now unfamiliar – person.

Jimin.

“Is that seat taken?” he breathes, face red with the exertion of climbing. “Because it’s been a while since I’ve done this, and god knows how much your parents take care of this trellis.”

“Shit,” you blurt, realizing his predicament and scrambling onto your knees. Grabbing Jimin’s hands, you haul him onto the roof.

Jimin tumbles beside you, dusting dirt from his pea coat. You wince at the gesture, since the fabric looks expensive – probably is, given his new job. Collapsing against the siding, Jimin adjusts his grey beanie and looks sideways at you.

“Hey,” he greets, as though he climbs up on neighbors’ porches all the time.

Trying not to laugh, you smile back. “Hey.”

When you say nothing more, Jimin arches a brow. “Surprised to see me?”

“You could say that,” you say, glancing down at the cul-de-sac. From up here, the world seems more manageable. It always did. “It’s been a while since you came by.”

“Could say the same.”

Glancing at him, you see a small smile on his face. Jimin is quiet for a moment, staring out at the world and you cannot help but layer this Jimin with ones past. When you were younger, this was your place – he and you. Whenever your parents were too much, or you were mad at the world, you would climb out here to escape.

Jimin would see this and know it was his signal to come over.

It has been a long time since then, though. The wood of the house is cold on your back.

“So, why are you out here?” He asks this calmly, as though this were another Tuesday.

You shrug. “The usual.”

It has been seven years, give or take, since you two last talked. Really talked, that is – in the way that friends do. All throughout middle school and high school, Jimin was your best friend. Even Jia was wary of you. She did not understand the way you acted, the way you purposefully pushed your parents’ boundaries to understand all their lines.

Jimin was not like that. Jimin did not break rules, but Jimin understood. He saw you out here, night after night and grew curious. Eventually, he climbed up to meet you and what happened next cannot be explained. You became the unlikeliest of friends.

Subtly, you glance sideways.

Glasses are perched on the end of his nose. Jimin used to need glasses in high school but insisted upon contacts because of his dancing. When he quit dance for college, you heard a lot of things changed, but you never imagined his glasses to be one of them. The frames suit his face. You have always thought that.

Of course, you cannot say for certain this change took place during college. That was when you began drifting apart – it was not either of your fault, really. You two tried to keep in touch, you really did. There were phone calls, e-mails, but there was always something else demanding more urgent attention. Eventually, phone calls became texts, which turned into long bouts of silence where you forgot one another.

Maybe the silence was a bit purposeful on your part. Maybe you were running from feelings you deemed ultimately, fruitless.

“You haven’t been home for the holidays in a few years,” Jimin comments, still casual. His foot is stretched out before him, clothed in an Italian loafer which must be worth twenty of your commissions.

“Not really, no,” you say, surprised he noticed.

“Why not?”

“Ha.” Leaning your head to the house, you close your eyes. “I don’t know. It felt like a lie every time, you know? Coming home and seeing them. Pretending to be happy. It was easier just… not to come.”

Jimin is quiet for a moment. “You weren’t happy?”

“Wrong job.” You open one eye. “Wrong life, really. But it was one they approved of.”

“And now?”

Suddenly, you look at him. Jimin stares back, gaze soft in moonlight. It makes your heart skip a beat, a phenomenon you thought died a long time ago. It is maddening, how quickly he does this to you.

When you were in high school, Jimin was the golden boy. The dancer, the honors student, the friendly type who knew everyone – even the weird, quiet girl who drew fantasy landscapes in the margins of her notebooks. Once upon a time, you were in love with him.

You even dreamed of him loving you back, but those dreams never became reality. Jimin loved you, of course, but only as a friend. He had a strange sense of protection for the girl on the roof. You realized this not in one moment, but in a thousand little ones all strung together.

You realized it when watching him with his first girlfriend – a bubbly, cheerleader type much like himself. The stake was hammered in further with his second girlfriend, whom he left the first one for. It was obvious when he took you to parties, leaving you talking to his friends in the corners. Obvious when his group booked a limo for prom and you were not invited.

These moments crushed your hope for anything more. And yet, here you are, back on the roof and wishing something more existed.

“Now, I’m happy with my career.” Not looking at him, you exhale. “They hate it, though. They think I threw everything they gave me away.”

Jimin snorts. “Bullshit.”

“Yeah?” You smile before you can help it. Jimin was always protective when it came to your drawing. “I don’t know it is. I had a good job, a stable job. The type of job they wanted so badly to have but couldn’t. I get why they’re mad.”

“You weren’t happy, though,” Jimin points out, rearranging himself on the roof. Somehow, his hand falls closer to yours. “And your drawings are amazing. I’ve seen your website.”

“Oh.” You pause, uncertain how to respond. Strange butterflies take flight in your stomach and you wonder what else he has seen. “Yeah, well. I don’t think they really care about that. Not like your parents do, anyways.”

Jimin’s smile turns bitter. “I guess.”

Now, it is your turn to look at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

Shaking his head, Jimin ducks his chin against his chest. The pea coat bunches around his shoulders, making him look more like old Jimin – your Jimin. The high schooler who feared his future, who did not want to quit dance but did, because he had to.

“I mean,” he tries again, frowning. “My parents are proud of me on paper. The love listing my accomplishments to their friends, but when it comes to me…”

He trails off, leaving you to draw your own implication.

“Oh.” Your words soften, glancing away. “I get that. I think that’s how Henry feels sometimes. He likes his job, he really does – but with my parents, it’s not about that. It makes the success feel kind of… hollow, somehow. You know?”

“I do.”

Looking at him, you hesitate. “Jimin… why’d you come up here?”

Jimin is quiet for a moment, rolling the corner of his pea coat with his fingers. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you say, some of your usual sarcasm seeping through. “Maybe because we haven’t spoken in like, five years.”

Jimin’s lips quirk. The gesture disappears almost immediately, replaced with something which could almost be called sadness.

“I heard you moved into the city,” he says quietly.

Your stomach plummets. “Jimin, I…”

“Yeah?”

“I – I didn’t know you knew,” you say, finishing lamely.

“Really?” His laugh is hollow. “Even if we didn’t follow each other on social media, you really thought my mom wouldn’t tell me?”

Shifting uncomfortably, you fail to meet his gaze. “Well. I moved to the city last fall.”

“I know. Why didn’t you look me up?”

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. Avoiding eye contact, you pick at your sweater. “It’s been a long time, I guess.”

“Too long.”

“Well, why didn’t you reach out?” you demand, looking up. To your surprise, you find Jimin has moved closer.

He stares at you determinedly. “What happened to us, Y/N?”

“What happens to most high school friends?” you stammer, still trying to be casual. “We moved, drifted apart, lost touch…”

“No.” Reaching out, Jimin takes your hand in his. He feels much warmer than you do. “I – oh. You’re cold.”

“N-no shit,” you say, teeth chattering. “I just grabbed this sweater.”

Jimin shifts closer, his right thigh pressing against yours. “Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

He stares at you for a moment, warmth finally tangible. After so many years without him, the smell of his cologne is almost too much to bear. No longer does he drown in it. You remember the year his mom gave him that for Christmas. The first few weeks of January Jimin fairly bathed in it, until his mom pulled him aside and told him she would throw it away – no matter the cost.

Remembering this makes you smile.

Jimin’s expression remains serious. “Why’d you leave… that night?”

There it is. There is the memory between you which you have been pointedly trying to ignore. The night Jimin kissed you and you ran away. It happened here, on this very rooftop. The night before you left for college, Jimin stole wine coolers from his mom and asked you to celebrate.

He was an absolute lightweight.

Jimin did not drink in high school, unlike you and so, after one wine cooler, he was already giggly. Laying back on the roof, you traced the stars with your fingertips and somehow rolled into his side. His arm slid around your waist, stable and warm.

Softly, he looked down – and kissed you.

It lasted only a moment. A brief miracle before you forced yourself away, leaping up on the roof and flinging open your window. You hurried in, shutting the blinds and ignoring his pleas. Jimin stood there for nearly twenty minutes before you heard him leave. He knew what your parents were like – knew what would happen if they heard him and caught you.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly, still looking at him.

“Bullshit.” Jimin says this in the same tone he used to describe your parents.

Stiffening, you sit up. He still holds your hand in his. Despite the sternness of his tone, Jimin continues to trace your fingers through the sweater. He stares, biting down on his lip and you know he does this when he is nervous.

It is surprising how easily you remember. Surprising how easy it is to slip into who you used to be, the dreams you used to want. Perhaps they never really left at all.

“I was scared,” you finally say, barely audible.

“Of me?”

“No,” you say, before you can help it. “Never of you. Of what… I might do to you.”

Jimin’s brow furrows. “You do to me? I don’t understand. How could anything you do be bad?”

The aching sweetness of this reminds you why you loved him. Or, why you love him. It is all so confusing with him here in the moonlight, with you here beside him, remembering ghosts of the past. Turning to face him, your knees graze each other like children.

“I didn’t make sense with you,” you explain. “Everyone knew it in high school, even if they wouldn’t say it out loud. You were always the bright one, the brilliant one – and then there was me.”

“Yeah. And then there was you.” Jimin speaks fiercely. “Grounded, real. Always telling me what you thought, not letting other people get to me for too long. You were the only person who really believed in me. No caveats, just belief.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” he insists. “God, Y/N. How could you think you were bad for me?” Reaching out, he tenderly tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Pulling away, his fingertips graze your jaw. “For me, it’s you. It’s always been you.”

“Don’t say ridiculous things,” you say on reflex.

Jimin’s brow furrows. “Did you honestly not realize? The entire time we were friends – you didn’t know I was in love with you?”

Your breath catches at how easily he says this. “But…” Mind spinning, you sift through the memories. “You dated other girls. Took someone else to prom. You didn’t say anything until you kissed me!”

“I know.” Jimin’s expression is tortured. “I only dated those girls though, because you said I should! Don’t you remember? I’d describe my ideal girl to you – describe you – and you’d point someone else out. When I took you to parties, you’d talk to my guy friends. And you accepted someone else’s prom invite before I could ask!”

“What!” You blink, since this is news to you. “What are you talking about?”

“We had a pact.” Despite himself, Jimin nearly smiles. “Remember? We were ten, watching Footloose in my basement and you pinky promised to be my prom date.”

“We were ten,” you say, although you also find yourself smiling. “You didn’t really think –”

“I was planning to ask you the next day,” he interrupts.

Words die on your lips and you can only stare for a moment. “What?”

“Peter Graff asked you on a Friday.” Scooting closer, Jimin takes your other hand in his. “I remember. I remember stopping by your locker and hearing you talk about prom dresses, limo colors, what boutonniere you should buy. I… I had been planning to ask the next day.”

“Jimin, I…”

“I was planning to stand in your yard with a boom box,” he admits, lips curving into a smile. Dark hair falls into his gaze. “You know, like in Say Anything. Except not creepy. And on very low volume, so I didn’t wake your parents.”

“Good call.”

“I thought so.”

It is strange to hear your friendship described in this manner. Because you remember those moments, but through a very different lens. You remember the day Jimin described his ideal girl. You remember crying that night, feeling you fit none of the description. He is right – you were the one who pointed out his first girlfriend, telling him he should really ask her out. It seemed more logical than any other version of the truth.

“When you kissed me…” Swallowing, you force yourself to continue. “It was perfect.”

“Yeah?” Jimin bites his lip.  “Then, why’d you leave?”

“You’d been drinking. I was leaving the next day. I thought maybe… you’d done it out of pity,” you whisper, finally voicing your fears from the night. “I thought you knew how badly I wanted you and it was just your way of saying goodbye. I… I wanted to keep that night the way it was. Perfect.”

“It wasn’t pity.” Jimin catches his breath. “Never.”

“Jimin…”

Lifting his hands to your face, he gently strokes your jaw. “I missed my shot that night,” he determines. “I’ve been a coward lots of ways, my whole life. I didn’t go after you like I should’ve. I haven’t stood up to my parents a million times. But I’ll be damned if I fuck this up again.”

Before you can respond, he kisses you.

His lips are soft, warm despite the bitterness of the night. He tastes like vanilla Chapstick and wine and you only hesitate a moment before kissing him back. The kiss is nothing like your first. That was a moment between teenagers, too scared to ask for what you both wanted. Now, you know what you want.

Greedily, your lips part as your hands wrap around his. At the first brush of your tongue, Jimin releases a groan. You kiss like this for a while, gently exploring the new boundaries between you. Whatever once was is shattered but something new exists in its place.

Finally, you drag yourself away and open your eyes. “Is this why you came here tonight?” you whisper, the world somehow seeming brighter. “To kiss me again?”

“Amongst other things.” His lips quirk when he laughs, shaking his head. “No. I came out because I saw you on the roof.”

He does not need to explain what it means. You only come out on the roof when you are upset. Unthinkingly, your heart starts to swell.

“You still remembered?” you ask, thumb brushing his neck.

“I meant what I said. For me, it’s you.”

  © kpopfanfictrash, 2019. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[goldencuffs]

heyyy......how about babysitter laurent and dad damen?? 😝😝

The dining table is a mess. There’s coloured paper scattered over its surface, red paint smeared across the apron, and dried glue on the right leg. The floor is worse: loose, tiny pieces of confetti and bits of glitter are strewn over the tiles like a kaleidoscopic painting.

Damen closes his eyes briefly in exasperation as he takes it all in. It’s been a long day, filled with lacklustre product development, incompetent staff, rude clients, and an uncomfortable, silent dinner with his in-laws.

 Jokaste, in her silk blue dress, assesses the mess with flinty, cold eyes.

 “What the fuck is this?” She makes for an intimidating figure, despite the flush in her cheeks betraying how intoxicated she is.

 Damen touches her arm: a small, fleeting gesture to keep her from saying anything else.

 Laurent, standing in the middle of the mess, is the epitome of guilt. He keeps wringing his hands together, and he can’t keep himself still, shuffling on his feet in agitated movements. Like Jokaste, his cheeks are flushed red, but he’s much more unkempt than her; even from here, Damen can make out the glitter stuck to Laurent’s forehead.

 “I’m so sorry,” Laurent says. “I’m going to clean everything –”

 “Where’s Theo?” Jokaste interrupts. Damen hates this habit of hers; he can’t even count how many times she’s done it to him over the years, and it drives him nuts every time.

 Laurent pushes back his hair. His fingertips are green. “I sent him to bed.”

 On a different night, this news might have made Jokaste melt; Theo is two and has been increasingly difficult during his bedtime. But Jokaste is in a combative mood tonight. She’d been particularly vicious on their way to her parent’s place and had only grown more irritated as the night wore on.

 Damen knows her next comment won’t be pleasant. He feels his usual protectiveness towards Laurent and turns to her.

 “Why don’t you check on T? I’ll make sure everything gets cleaned up down here.”

 Jokaste hesitates; Damen knows, after years of being married to her, that she’s debating on whether having the last word will be in her favour.

 Ultimately, she decides it won’t be. She turns back towards the staircase and heads upstairs without another word.

 In a quiet voice Laurent says, “I really am sorry.”

 Damen sighs. He takes another look at Laurent’s furrowed eyebrows, his pink, pursed mouth and feels some of the tension bleed from his shoulders.

 Shrugging off his blazer and loosening his tie, he keeps his smile genuine and wide. “It’s okay,” Damen says. “Knowing my son, this could have been a lot worse.”

 Laurent’s body seems to loosen. He ducks his head shyly and nods. “He was actually very good today.”

 Damen snorts. Theo, lately, has been impatient and cranky all the time: a true poster child for the terrible twos.

 “I’ll believe it when I see it,” he says in an undertone, and Laurent smiles, looking for the first time, relaxed.

 When Damen heads over to the inbuilt pantry to hoard the cleaning supplies, Laurent says, “No, please. You go upstairs Damen; I can do this myself.”

 “You’ll be here all night if someone doesn’t help you. It’s fine,” he adds, when Laurent opens his mouth to protest.

 Amongst amicable conversation, they get to cleaning. The damage isn’t as bad as Damen initially thought; the paint is watery and comes off with a half-hearted swipe, and vacuuming the confetti takes less than a few minutes.

 As they reorganise the papers, Laurent crowds further into his space, until their elbows are touching, and the line of Laurent’s thigh presses up against Damen’s. Damen glances down at him, captivated by the shimmer dancing on his face, and swallows.

 Laurent has been their regular babysitter since Theo was just six months old. Back then, he’d been a shy twenty-year-old college student, who could hardly look into Damen’s eyes. Damen had hired him because he was the younger brother of one of his long-time clients, but over the years, Laurent has shown characteristics Damen highly values. He’s kind, empathetic, incredibly loyal and smart. The way Laurent treats Theo is enough for Damen to like him; Theo thinks Laurent is the best person in the world, much to Jokaste’s consternation.

 So, yes: Damen has always liked Laurent. Recently though, their dynamic has changed to this: to sure, but fleeting touches, heated glances across the room, and texts sent late into the night.

 Nothing so far has been too scandalous; from an outsider’s perspective, the way he and Laurent interact is still innocent.

 But Damen knows it isn’t, because whenever his phone chimes at three in the morning, or whenever Laurent walks into his house wearing shirts that show off too much of his collarbone, he feels like he’s on fire. He feels like he’s losing control. It’s dangerous.

 It had started a month ago, when Damen had offered to drive Laurent home on a rainy night. Laurent had invited him inside for drinks and Damen had said yes.

 Several hours later, drunk and sated, Laurent had said, “You know the only reason I agreed to babysit Theo that first time was because I thought you were super hot.”

 Stupidly, Damen said, “I thought you were too.”

 Laurent gave him a long, measured look. Underneath it, there lay a margin of surprise. “Thought?” said Laurent, shifting closer on his terrible, sagging couch. “You don’t think so anymore?”

 Damen eyed the paleness of Laurent’s throat, the pink across his cheeks and said, “I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

 The surprise took over Laurent’s face. His mouth, darkened from the wine, grew slack, and his cornflower blue eyes widened. He leaned even closer. Damen did too.

 Then, his phone had rung, and Damen felt a huge, overwhelming amount of guilt as he’d read his wife’s name across the lit screen.

 He should have stopped it then. Instead, Damen found himself constantly checking his phone for messages from Laurent or calling him in the middle of the day to plan outings together.

 Last week, they’d gone to a new, fancy restaurant out of town for dinner. Damen had told Jokaste it was for a last-minute business meeting with an important client.

 Underneath the table, Laurent had hooked his foot around Damen’s leg and smiled.

 Damen couldn’t look away for the rest of the night.

 Now, the tension in the kitchen is pulsing. Damen is aware of the lack of space between them, the shortness of his own breath and the flush on Laurent’s skin.

 Laurent moves impossibly closer, until he’s nestled into Damen’s chest. He’s still rearranging the papers with ease. It’s a test, Damen thinks.

 Slowly, Damen steps back, just far enough to properly cage Laurent against him. Laurent’s back is to his chest, warm and firm. Damen moves his hands up to grip Laurent’s hips, and Laurent goes stills, his body tight.

 They just stand there for a moment, then two. In the silence, Damen can hear the sound of running water and creaking wood; Jokaste is getting ready for bed.

 Laurent shifts. It’s a deliberate movement. Damen grits his teeth as the curve of Laurent’s backside meets his groin. Laurent does it again, slower, and Damen closes his eyes.

 It’s wrong that he’s doing this, in the kitchen of his own home, with his wife and kid upstairs, but Damen can’t think of anything else besides Laurent in his arms.

 Laurent’s hair, so fine and golden, tickles Damen’s nose. It smells nice too, like coconut.

 The water is still running. Damen, emboldened with the fact that Jokaste willl not be out for a while, does what he’s been desperate to do for a while: he carefully kisses the unblemished side of Laurent’s neck.

 Laurent drops the papers.

 He whirls around so fast, Damen almost loses his balance. Laurent’s eyes are wide in anticpation, and in excitement. It’s exhilarating that Damen can read him so well.

 Laurent grips the collar of his dress shirt; it makes Damen stumble forward, his thigh slotting in between Laurent’s legs.

 Laurent gasps, and Damen kisses him.

 It’s not a chaste kiss. Immediately, Laurent opens his mouth, fingers digging into Damen’s hair. Damen kisses him hard and open mouthed, hands tight and unyielding as they hold onto Laurent’s waist.

 Damen pins Laurent further into the lip of the table, Laurent’s hips moving in tiny, jerky movements. It’s so obvious he’s inexperienced, and for some sick, twisted reason, it lights a spark of arousal in Damen’s gut.

 Laurent tastes like vanilla cake, Damen thinks, as he licks into Laurent’s mouth. His mouth is sweet, completely at Damen’s mercy. If Damen bent Laurent over the table and fucked him right now, Laurent would let him.

 The thought makes Damen dizzy. Of course he can’t do that, but it doesn’t stop him from lifitng Laurent’s shirt, exposing his pale, flat stomach and digging his fingertips into the skin there.

 Laurent moans into his mouth, hands clenching onto Damen’s curls even tighter.

 Jokaste’s voice rings from the staircase. “Damen?”

 Heart stopping for a brief moment, Damen pulls back. He almost groans at the sight of Laurent, whose lips are wet with Damen’s spit.

 It’s a miracle Damen’s voice sounds normal as he says, “Yeah?”

 He waits for the guilt to overcome him. It doesn’t.

 “Has Laurent gone home yet?”

 They’re still standing too close. It’s recklessly stupid. If Jokaste were to duck her head, she’d see them clearly.

 Laurent’s fingers finds his. His thumb traces over Damen’s ring, over and over.

 Damen swallows. “No,” he says, looking right at Laurent. “I’m going to drop him home now.”

 Laurent smiles.