#I stayed up late coloring this I hope it doesn’t flop

[robfozdarling]

BEARS!!!

My three favorite bears, being silly together <3

[sundaaz-e]

୨⎯ Stay a Little Longer ⎯୧

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting soft stripes of gold across the bedroom. You stirred, squinting at the clock. 5:45 AM. Too early, but you had things to do. A long mission awaited, and every detail had to be perfect.

Carefully slipping out of bed, you reached for your duffel bag, hoping not to disturb the man still sprawled under the covers. You hadn’t even zipped the bag halfway before a low, gravelly voice broke the quiet.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You turned to see Shouta Aizawa sitting up, his dark hair a tangled mess and his eyes heavy with sleep. His gaze softened when it met yours, though he quickly masked it with his usual deadpan expression.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” you said, smiling apologetically.

“You didn’t,” he muttered, though the way he blinked sluggishly said otherwise. He yawned and stretched, the loose hem of his t-shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of pale skin.

You shook your head and returned to your packing. “Go back to bed, baby. I’ve got a lot to do before I head out.”

“Exactly why I’m not going back to bed,” he said, sliding off the mattress. Before you could protest, he grabbed the duffel bag from the floor and plopped onto the couch with it. “I’m helping.”

“You’re helping by taking my bag?”

“I’m making sure you don’t pack it so well you actually leave.” His tone was dead serious, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him.

You sighed, walking over to reclaim the bag. “Very mature.”

“I don’t hear you denying it.”

By mid-morning, you had made decent progress despite Aizawa’s assistance. He followed you from room to room like an overgrown cat, leaning against doorframes or draping himself across your shoulders as you gathered your gear.

“Do you really need this?” he asked, holding up a portable comm device.

“Yes,” you said, snatching it back.

“What about this?” He held up a neatly folded uniform jacket.

“Shouta.”

“Fine.” He sighed dramatically, tossing the jacket into your bag before flopping onto the couch. “I still don’t see why you have to go. Don’t they have rookies for missions like this?”

“They need someone experienced,” you replied, checking your gear.

“You’re too experienced,” he argued, now lying across the couch with his arms crossed. “Retirement sounds great, doesn’t it? You and me, staying home, sleeping in—”

“Shouta, you’d lose your mind if you retired.”

“Maybe. But at least you’d be here to keep me sane.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you zipped up the duffel. But before you could move it to the door, Aizawa was there again, blocking the way.

“You’re relentless,” you teased.

“I’m a man in love,” he replied, the faintest flush coloring his cheeks.

When the time came to leave, Aizawa’s clinginess reached its peak. As you slipped on your boots, he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and a playful scowl on his face.

“You could stay,” he said, as if the idea had just occurred to him. “Tell them something came up. You sprained your ankle. Or your husband fell apart because you abandoned him.”

“Abandoned?” You echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. Abandoned.” He stepped closer, tugging lightly on the scarf wrapped around your neck. “Seven days is too long.”

“Seven days will fly by,” you assured him, cupping his cheek.

He leaned into the touch, his usual stoicism crumbling for just a moment. “Call me. Every night.”

“I will.”

“And don’t get hurt.”

“I won’t.”

He pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your shoulder. “If you come back late, I’m sending the kids after you.”

You laughed, hugging him back. “I’ll come home in one piece. I promise.”

Reluctantly, he let you go, watching as you stepped out the door. “Be safe.”

“Always.”

Aizawa lingered in the doorway, hands stuffed in his pockets. He stayed there until you disappeared from view, already counting down the days until you’d be back.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: here she is! my fic for @prettytoxicrevolver for @wyattjohnston ‘s summer 2k24 fic exchange! this was so fun to write and step out of my comfort zone with cole. i hope you enjoy! ☺️

tw: some mild innuendo, zegras sister, brother’s best friend, fake dating

word count: 11.4k

summary: it’s the summer of weddings and just as you’re dreading going solo to them, your brother’s best friend, cole caufield, offers to be your date. it’s the perfect solution, too bad you’ve been madly in love with cole for years and your heart can’t seem to grasp the concept of a fake date.

“Fuck,” you mutter, flipping through the mail and spotting the thick cream colored envelope addressed to you.

And Guest.

Another fucking wedding to add to the summer slate, another fucking plus one when you don’t have a plus one to bring.

Your fingers tap against the cardstock, a frown drawing your lips into a downward curve.

“What’s with the pout, Noodle?” The familiar, grating voice of your brother startles you and you jump, sandals slapping against the pavers that lead into the backyard, the mail flying out of your hands. You could kill your mother for coming up with that nickname when you were a toddler. It’s not that cute now that you’re twenty-two and your brother uses it every chance he gets.

“Christ, Trev!” You snap, hand covering your heart. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

You narrow your eyes at him, sprawled over the lounge chair closest to the pool. It’s only late April, but it was unreasonably warm the last two weeks, so your dad had decided to open the pool early even though no one was likely to use it until closer to Memorial Day. Well, no one but Trevor apparently. if the little puddles of pool water on the ddck are to be trusted.

“Gee,” he rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, clapping both hands over his chest and putting on a faux-earnest expression, “just the welcome home a big brother was hoping for after a long and gruelling season of injury and loss.”

“First of all,” you squat down to gather up the mail, “mom and I were down in Anaheim for weeks when you busted your ankle. And secondly, if I had known you’d be coming home, I would’ve rolled out the appropriate red carpet.”

Your tone is laced with a healthy amount of sarcasm and Trevor doesn’t miss it, if the amused grin on his face is any indication.

“Mom stayed for weeks, you left after fifteen minutes,” Trevor counters. “And what does the red carpet entail? Are there fancy cocktails and snacks?”

Snorting, you fold the mail into a neat pile, holding it in both hands. “I’ll spring for a box of Cheez-its and a case of High Noon, good enough for you?”

Trevor pretends to think about it for a minute, making a show of rubbing at his chin, where a particularly pathetic attempt at a beard is growing, before nodding decisively. “I accept your offer,” he pronounces. “Seriously though, what’s with the face?”

“There’s no face,” you shoot back. “It’s just my regular face when I see you.”

“Dude, you look like someone pissed in your Cheerios,” Trevor snorts, flopping back onto the lounge chair. He waves a hand in front of his face. “You get all pinchy in the eyebrows.”

“I do not!” Your hand flies up to your forehead and smooths over the skin in between your brows, pressing into the little furrow, hating that he’s right. “Ugh, just fuck off.”

“Who’s fucking off?” A new voice, familiar, comes from behind you and you whirl around just in time to watch Cole Caufield step out onto the back deck, a bag of Tostitos and a jar of salsa held in his arms. Your heart skips a beat and you hate it. “I just got here so it’s not gonna be me.”

He grins at you, his whole face scrunching up, and you can pretend for a second until he opens his mouth again and says, “hi, Noodle.”

Fuck.

“Hey, Cole,” you manage a smile in return. “Came to freeload in Connecticut for a bit?”

Your brother’s friend laughs and plants himself on another lounge chair, tossing the bag of chips to Trevor while he pops open the salsa jar. “Is it freeloading when you’re invited?” He shrugs, giving you an impish look.

“Yeah,” Trevor supplies, his mouth stuffed with chips, “if Coley’s freeloading, then you’re freeloading too, Noodle.”

“Mom and Dad actually love having me around,” you shoot back, offended. “Besides, come fall, I’m moving out anyway, so they have to soak up all their time with me now.” You pop a hip out and flip your hair, forgetting again about the mail in your hands. The stupid, thick wedding envelope goes flying and Cole lunges to catch it before it lands in a puddle of pool water. You reach for it, but he flips the envelope over to see who it’s addressed to before giving it back.

One eyebrow quirks up and he says, “wedding season, huh?”

“Four this summer,” you huff a sigh and sit at the bottom of Trevor’s lounge chair, smacking his foot away when he twitches it to hit your thigh. “Oh my god, stop that.”

“No,” he hits your thigh again and you smack his ankle - not the previously broken one, you’re smarter than that. Cole laughs when you and Trevor devolve into a slapping and kicking fight that eventually ends with you on your ass on the patio and Trevor with chip crumbs in his hair.

“The fucking Zegras siblings,” Cole gasps out a laugh, one hand braced at his side. “You two are nuts.”

“Life was so much more peaceful when you were on the other side of the country,” you grouch at Trevor, fighting a blush when Cole sticks out his hand and pulls you to your feet. He pats the edge of his lounge chair, indicating for you to take a seat, and you do, trying to avoid the brush of your thigh against his. Your efforts are futile and it feels like your face is as hot as the sun when his warm skin touches yours.

Before Trevor can get a breath in to start fighting with you, Cole interrupts and asks, “four weddings is a lot. All friends? Aren’t you young to have friends getting married?”

You’re not that much younger than Cole - you and Trevor are Irish twins, both born in March (2001 for Trevor and 2002 for you) so, you’re only fourteen months younger than Cole, not that either one of them will let you forget that you’re younger.

“Don’t hockey players get married while they’re still in utero?” You tease, helping yourself to some chips. “I went to school in Alabama, it’s a miracle I made it out without becoming a child bride.”

“Plus one wedding’s our cousin’s and she’s thirty two,” Trevor supplies. “So not a child bride.”

Cole nods. “Yeah, fair enough. I guess we’re in the wedding season of our lives,” he laughs a little and you find yourself smiling just at the sound.

Goddamn, you’re down bad.

You force your mouth into a more neutral expression before Trevor spots it and starts roasting you. “Weddings are fun,” you admit, the next words slipping out of your mouth before you can stop them, “when you have someone to go with, anyway. Otherwise it’s just a reminder that you’re the sad single with no one to dance the slow songs with.”

Both guys are silent for a beat and you can feel the mortification working its way through your body. Good job, admitting that you’re alone and sad, in front of your stupid brother and his stupid friend that you’ve had a stupid crush on for years. Cole cocks his head at you and you spring up from the chair, nausea bubbling in your stomach. No way can you stand to hear whatever pity-tinged platitude he’s going to say.

“See you,” you mutter, jumping up from the chair and darting off inside where you can’t embarrass yourself any further.

Your mom is at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables for dinner. She looks up when you come inside, nearly slamming the back door shut. “What’s on fire out there?” She asks, knife poised over the red pepper on the cutting board and a concerned look on her face.

“Just my social skills,” you grumble, swiping a piece of pepper. “Also, it would’ve been nice to have a warning that Terror was home.” You pause, snapping the pepper between your teeth. Add, “and bringing guests.”

“Noodle,” your mom laughs affectionately, “Dad and I have been talking about Trev’s visit for a week now. Jamie’s coming up at the end of the week too. You know your brother, always needs to have his little posse around.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname again. “No one calls it a posse anymore,” you huff, feeling all of sixteen years old again as you stomp off to your bedroom.

The guys dip before dinner, Trevor shouting through the house that they’re going for tacos, which is fine by you. The longer you can avoid Cole, the better.

Unfortunately, he’s staying in your house, down the hall in the guest room. So avoiding him is not entirely feasible, as you learn later that night. The house is dark and quiet, everyone allegedly sleeping, when you creep down the hall and slide through the back door, planning on sitting and watching the stars for a little bit. Insomnia’s been your friend for years and you’ve learned to just go with the sleepless nights, to try and make them as bearable and relaxing as possible. Sometimes you’ll manage to catch a few hours of sleep if you’re in a different location and your parents have definitely

found you curled up on the couch outside during the summer more often than not.

You’re not expecting to find Cole sprawled out on the couch when you get outside though.

“Oh!” You gasp before you can help yourself, before you can slip back inside.

Cole turns and shoots you a warm smile. “Hey, didn’t think I was going to have company,” he says, shifting so he’s not manspreading as much.

You wrap your arms around your chest and shrug a bit. “Insomnia,” you explain even though you don’t have to. “I was hoping some fresh air would help.”

“Cool,” Cole nods and then winces. “Not cool that you have insomnia. ‘Cause I’m sure that sucks. But, uh, cool that the fresh air might help? That doesn’t really make sense either.”

A laugh bubbles out of your chest and you shake your head. “You’re spending too much time with my brother, you’re going to turn into a yapper too,” you hear the affection that’s leeched into your tone and you bite your lip before you can say anything else.

“That ship’s sailed,” Cole laughs. “You can sit, I don’t want to get in the way of your routine or whatever.”

He shifts more to the side of the couch and you chew on the inside of your cheek briefly before taking a seat at the other end of the couch, propping your feet up on the coffee table. Your neon pink toenails glow in the moonlight and you wish you’d put on a pair of socks.

“I don’t really have a routine,” you sigh, pulling your sweatshirt sleeves down over your hands and curling them into fists. “Just kind of sit out here and contemplate life until I pass out or my mom gets breakfast started.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Cole nod and you wonder why he’s outside in the middle of the night but you were born with a brain to mouth filter, unlike Trevor, so you don’t ask. There’s a light breeze, so the pool water ripples and you watch it, zoning out until Cole speaks and startles you out of your thoughts.

“Huh?” You squint at him elegantly, having completely missed what he said.

Cole laughs a little and his smile feels too soft for this late at night. “I was saying, do you have a plus one for all of your weddings this summer?”

God. Why is he bringing this up again?

Your stomach twists and you nod reluctantly. “Yeah. The ‘and Guest’ has been like taking a bullet to the chest every time I get an invitation and remember I have no boyfriend to speak of.”

The joke doesn’t come out quite as light as you meant it.

“What if you did?” Cole asks, turning so he can face you. Your brow furrows again and - dammit, Trevor - your hands fly up to your face to smooth out the wrinkles. Cole continues, “like, I could be your plus one.”

“You have nothing better to do this summer?” You blurt out, regretting it immediately. It sounds rude and you’d love to spend at least four guaranteed days with him.

Cole shrugs, still grinning. “Tell me when the weddings are and I’ll tell you if I have plans,” he says. “I like weddings. They’re fun, especially when you’re just a guest with no responsibilities.”

“Um,” you start ticking the dates off on your fingers, “one’s June eighth, then there’s June 29th, July 14th, and the last one’s August 3rd.” You pause. “The June 29th one is down in Alabama, but the other three are here, in Connecticut.”

There’s nothing but the sound of crickets and the water hitting the side of the pool while Cole looks up and to the left, clearly running through his mental schedule. You resist the urge to gnaw on your thumbnail. Oh my god, this is awful. Why the fuck are you even discussing this with him?

“Count me in,” Cole says and even though you hear him perfectly, your response is a very eloquent, “huh?”

“I’m in,” Cole repeats. “I’ll be your wedding plus one, Noodle.”

That fucking nickname.

But wait.

Cole’s agreeing - volunteering - to be your plus one.

“All four?” You raise an eyebrow skeptically.

He nods. “All four. We’re doing Europe in May, but otherwise I was just gonna spend the summer bouncing between cities to see my family and stuff. I can do that and still be your date for the weddings.”

The fact that he’s volunteering is throwing you off. You rub a hand over your forehead, feet falling to the deck as you lean in, a serious frown on your face. “Like, I appreciate the offer, Cole, I really do,” you pause, chew at your lower lip. Cole’s gaze flickers down and you ignore the burst of heat low in your stomach. Do not even go there.

“But, um, isn’t it going to be annoying, if people come up to you?” It’s a flimsy excuse and Cole sees past it easily.

“I don’t think I’m that recognizable down in Alabama or even up here, unless I’m with Z and Drysy,” he laughs, self-aware and self-deprecating. “I’d like to be your date.”

“I, um,” you have no more excuses. The little devil on your shoulder is screaming at you to take advantage of the time with Cole, to use it to maybe make a real move. “Okay, yeah. That would be nice.”

Cole knocks his knee against yours and a spark shoots over your skin. “Don’t sound so excited,” he teases. “I’m a great date.”

That’s what you’re worried about.

——

The rest of the week passes without mention of the weddings or Cole being your date - you don’t even know if he told Trevor, but you’re betting he hasn’t.

Jamie joins the family for a couple of days and you spend the back half of the week trying to avoid being tossed into the pool every time you have the misfortune of wandering out into the backyard while your brother and his friends are out there.

They go out every night, catching up since they’re spread across the country for the season, and you’re called upon more than once for a pick-up, hauling their drunk asses back home while they act stupid in the backseat.

Cole never mentions the weddings and before you know it, it’s May and the house is quiet again because the trio is off to Europe for a couple of weeks. As crazy loud as the house was before, it feels even quieter now and it’s a little unnerving. You end up outside more often than not, skimming your feet through the pool water now that it’s warmer, thinking about Cole too much.

As if you manifested him, your phone lights up with a text from him. You tap at the screen and smile when you see a selfie of the three of them, cheesing with a gorgeous view of Prague in the background.

‘proof of life, but gonna shove z off a cliff if he asks one more would you rather….’ is the attached message and it makes you laugh out loud, the sound echoing around the backyard.

‘now you know how i felt on all those childhood road trips 😂’ you reply, sliding your phone into your sweatshirt pocket, quietly enjoying the fizz of excitement that Cole’s attention provides.

It’s almost too late to back out of the wedding date offer, not that you really want to, but you’re so nervous to slip up and say something while spending so much time with him. Especially after your friends have asked who you’re bringing as your plus one, curious since you haven’t dated anyone seriously in nearly a year. You really regret RSVPing to your cousin’s wedding with the plus one, your aunt was almost immediately on the phone with your mom, asking all about him even though she didn’t have a name.

That of course opened you up to the conversation with your mom, where she was very surprised when you told her Cole is going to be your date.

“He, um, asked,” you offer her an explanation when she asks, technically the truth.

She pins you with that classic mom look, the one that says she knows there’s more to the story than you’re letting on, but mercifully doesn’t say anything else. She just nods and hums and says, “well, Cole is basically family anyway. It’ll be nice to have him there. You should teach him some of the steps for the Greek dances.”

And that’s that.

But you’re pretty sure she knows that you’re harboring a massive crush on him.

Not that you were overly subtle about it when Trevor first became friends with Cole. But you like to think you’ve managed to maintain some level of chill around him in the past few years.

Your chill is about to be tested in an extreme way.

——

It’s June before you know it and it’s weird to have Cole staying at your house without Trevor also down the hall.

Trevor’s out in California with Dixie. The two of them are back on since he got back from Prague and honestly you can’t keep track of their relationship, so you’re more than happy to ignore it.


Cole comes into town on the seventh, bearing a European tan and souvenirs for you. A handmade candle to join your, frankly obscene, collection and a tiny pocketknife with a fish shaped handle.

You run your fingers over the fish’s scales, overwhelmed by the fact that he even thought of you at all.

“Z bought one and I figured I couldn’t let you be unarmed in the next Zegras sibling battle,” he teases. “They’re like this whole cult thing in Prague apparently.”

“Thanks,” you grin at him genuinely, heat flushing your cheeks. “This was really thoughtful and, um, really handy when I need to give Trev a middle of the night payback haircut.”

After dinner and hanging out with your parents to watch a movie - how fucking sexy - you almost wish you’d told Cole to meet you at the venue. You feel all jumpy in his presence, never having spent this much one on one time with him. Usually Trevor and a whole host of other NHL players are a buffer.

“What time do we have to leave tomorrow?” Cole appears in your bedroom doorway, arms crossed over his chest, shoulder leaning on the door jamb.

Fuck that’s so hot.

“Oh, um, ceremony’s at 4, so like 3ish? I guess?” You twist the ends of your hair around your fingers and then force yourself to stop.

“Sounds good,” he smiles at you, winks. “Get some beauty sleep, Noodle. Not that you need it.”

The whiplash between your nickname and the compliment has your head spinning for the better part of an hour and you don’t know what to make of any of it.

Somehow you manage to sleep and the next morning is spent getting your makeup sorted out and begging your mom to help you fix your hair. It’s nearly three by the time you’re done and Cole is hanging out with your dad in the kitchen, discussing hockey, of course.

“Okay, ready to go?” You grab up your car keys, knowing Cole will just end up fighting you for them. He doesn’t respond and you look up, heart pounding when you see the way his jaw is slightly dropped and his eyes are a little glazed over. “Um, everything okay?”

Your voice trembles and Cole shakes his head, clearing the fog. “Sorry, yeah, sorry. Just, you look really good,” he says quickly.

“Thanks,” you smooth your hands over your hips, barely able to make eye contact. “Ready?”

Cole nods and follows you out of the house, fights you for the car keys and wins. You slink off to the passenger side, secretly happy that you don’t have to make the drive. You’d much rather be a passenger princess.

The drive is normal enough, with Cole telling you all the non-parent friendly details of the European adventure and you filling him in on just exactly whose wedding you’re going to - your sorority best friend, coincidentally raised in Connecticut too before going to Alabama for college.

Even though you know nearly all of the guests, it’s nice to have Cole at your side when you walk into the venue. He acts a little bit like armor, keeping you from the bouts of social anxiety that you’re prone to. A couple of the guys recognize him, but for the most part it’s low key.

Until he introduces himself as, “Cole, the boyfriend,” and your entire brain becomes the blue screen of death.

You blink at him stupidly for too long and Cole’s face falls into a look of concern. He pulls you by the wrist to a corner of the room and stands so he’s blocking you from the rest of the reception.

“Hey,” he ducks his head a little to maintain eye contact, “are you okay? Did I say something wrong? I thought - well, wasn’t the point of this, of me coming to like stop people thinking you’re single?”

As he speaks, he looks more uncertain and you’re growing more and more horrified. This was a miscommunication of epic proportions.

“No, oh my god,” you whisper, palms sweating. “I didn’t…that wasn’t…I mean, yeah, it sucks to be like the last single girl standing, but I would never have asked you to be my fake boyfriend!”

“You didn’t ask, not really. I offered,” Cole replies, leaning in slightly, enveloping you in the scent of his cologne and your own body wash that he must’ve used in the shower this morning. It makes your head spin a little. “Jesus, Noodle. I should’ve talked to you about it.”

“I…oh my god, Cole. This is so stupid,” you start to giggle, hysteria bubbling up in your stomach. “We need to go correct the narrative before -“

A group of your sorority sisters descend on you in the corner, squealing about meeting your new boyfriend, introducing themselves and congratulating you in hushed whispers on what a cutie he is.

“That happens,” you finish your sentence in a muttered aside to Cole once the girls are gone.

He has the slightly shellshocked look most people have after they’ve been spun around in the sorority girl vortex and you can’t help but let out a reluctant giggle. He just looks so damn confused, it’s beyond endearing.

“Just…don’t say anything else and I’ll deal with the fallout tomorrow,” you sigh. “Maybe you should skip the other weddings too.”

Cole shakes his head, a strange smile on his face. “What if we just, you know, play along? Like, I already thought I was pretending to be your boyfriend, why not have some fun with it?”

Because playing pretend might actually kill you, you think. But you find yourself nodding anyway, agreeing to Cole’s suggestion. And the next thing you know, he’s got his hands on your hips and your arms are around his neck, swaying in a slow dance with the rest of the couples on the floor. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, Cole’s hands a searing heat on your hips.

Your gaze keeps flickering up to his chin and lips, watching the way he half-smiles every time he catches you looking.

“So, um,” you murmur, trying to break some of the tension that probably only you feel, “what exactly were you going to tell people, when they asked about our re-relationship?” You stumble over the word. “Since we never discussed it.”

Cole’s fingers flex on your hips and you think you might stop breathing momentarily. He chuckles and his smile is sheepish now. “I was just gonna go with the truth? Most of it, anyway. We’ve been friends because of Z for years and it just…evolved.”

“Evolved,” you repeat quietly. “Friends to lovers, huh?”

His eyes widen slightly and you kick yourself mentally for saying the word ‘lovers.’

Before you can word vomit some backtracking, Cole nods. “Yeah, friends to lovers, I guess.”

The slow song ends and Cole’s hands don’t move. You try not to read into it - he’s pretending, it’s all just pretend - but by the time you’re in the car on the way home, you’re convinced that your poor heart won’t make it to the end of the summer.

——-

Cole flies out the next afternoon, off to spend some time with his family in Wisconsin. He texts you nearly every day though, which is new.

You try to tell yourself that you’re just building a cover, in case, what? One of your friends steals your phone to try and prove you’re actually in a relationship?

By the time your flight lands in Alabama on the 28th, your nerves are a little frazzled and you’re more in love with Cole than you’ve ever been, thanks to the constant texting and random FaceTime calls. His flight lands thirty minutes after yours, coming from Philly where he was hanging out with Trevor and Jamie, so you wait around the airport to Uber to the hotel together.

“Hey, Noodle!” He greets you with a big hug, swinging you around a little, making you laugh.

“Hey,” you’re still giggling when he puts you down, barely able to protest when he grabs the handle of your suitcase and wheels it out to the curb. “I could’ve gotten that.”

“I know,” he winks, “but what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you pull your own suitcase?”

Your lips tilt up in a smile, teeth biting down on your tongue to stop the reminder that this is all fake from spilling out.

“A terrible one, I guess,” you joke instead, climbing into the Uber. “How’s Trevor after the latest Dixie debacle?”

“They’re back together,” Cole informs you on a delighted, if exasperated laugh. “At least, they were when I was at the airport.”

“Jesus,” you roll your eyes. “When we break up, promise me it won’t be as dramatic as they are.”

Cole coughs suddenly and you look up from your phone in concern. He waves you off, face a little red. Sounding slightly strangled, he says, “sure, yeah, no dramatic breakup for us.”

“Cool, now let me show you this Tik Tok,” you grin, shoving your phone in his face. “It’s a compilation of all your on-ice falls last season.”

“Wow,” Cole deadpans. “That’s so nice of you to show me.”

You spend the rest of the car ride in your little sister mode, being annoying and showing him the random Tik Tok edits you find of him and Trevor. You’re both laughing uncontrollably as you pile out of the car and into the hotel, but the laughter stops when you try to check in.

“What?” You repeat incredulously. “How do you lose a reservation?”

The young guy at the counter, he can’t be much older than you or Cole, winces at the sharp bite of your tone. “I’m so sorry. But like I said, we have Mr. Caufield’s reservation, but can’t find yours, Ms. Zegras,” he winces again. “It’s a busy weekend for the hotel, we have a dental conference happening.”

“Okay, but I literally paid for my hotel room weeks ago!” You scroll through your email for the confirmation and wave it in the guy’s face when you find it. “Am I getting a refund or what?”

You can hear Cole sniggering behind you, your reputation as the bossy Zegras sibling precedes you.

“We can do a partial -“

“No way,” you cut him off, feeling slightly bad. “I need a room for the next two nights and a partial refund is not going to cut it if I have to go find a different hotel.”

“Little Z,” Cole draws your attention and when you look over your shoulder at him, he’s smirking a little. “Why don’t you stop harassing the nice man and we’ll just share my room.”

“Share…” you trail off and you must look horrified or something because Cole rushes to continue.

“It’ll be like two summers ago when Z booked that studio Air BnB and we all had to sleep in one room,” he shrugs. “It’s only two nights and neither of us snore like your brother does.”

“I…” you really have no excuse, because if this stupid hotel doesn’t have another room for you, you’re pretty much fucked. “Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”

Cole finishes checking in and somehow manages to swing an entire refund for you, probably because he’s being nice to the guy and not freaking out on him.

You just hope there’s two beds in the room.

——

There’s one bed in the room.

And you’re trying not to show your internal struggle, going about your business of unpacking your suitcase and hanging up your dress so the wrinkles can release.

Neither of you mention the elephant in the room while you get ready for the welcome dinner. Cole’s hand finds your lower back while you walk into the restaurant and it takes all of your effort not to shiver in pleasure at his touch. You let yourself lean into him slightly, telling yourself it’s okay to show some physical affection since you’re telling everyone you’re dating.

He taps his fingers against your lower back absently as you chat with a few of your friends, never straying far from your side. When you finish your drink, he promptly delivers you another one, making your friends whisper excitedly about what a gentleman he is.

You’re grateful that you discussed a general idea of how your relationship happened because otherwise you’d be caught off guard when one of the bridesmaids asks you how you and Cole started dating, considering you’ve never mentioned him before.

“Oh,” you murmur, looking across the room where Cole’s chatting with a couple of the groomsmen, “well, he’s friends with Trevor, so I’ve known him for years. Things just kind of…evolved.”

“Y’all are the cutest,” she gushes. “Keep a hold on him and maybe the next Delta Nu wedding will be yours?”

You choke on air and manage to excuse yourself to the bathroom without dying. The bathroom is empty, thank God, so you get a chance to breathe and compose yourself. It’s too easy to get wrapped up in Cole’s attention, in his gentle touches and soft smiles, and it’s getting harder and harder to remember that this is all pretend.

There’s a knock on the door and then Cole’s voice calling your name. “You okay? I saw you run off…”

“I’m fine,” you call back, unlocking the door and pulling it open. He’s got a concerned frown on his face. “Just, um, you know,” you wave a hand over your shoulder, “had to use the little girls’ room.”

Your whole body cringes and Cole laughs, “is that a Mama Z saying? ‘Cause it sounds like her.”

“Yes, exactly,” you sigh, grabbing onto the opportunity to blame your mom, “she says it all the time. So weird.”

Cole’s smile is knowing, but he doesn’t say anything. He just holds his hand out for you and asks, “want to rejoin the party? Or head back to the hotel? It’s getting kind of late.”

You stare at his hand for a second before taking it, heart skipping a beat when he laces his fingers with yours, an undeniably couple-y thing to do. “Maybe one more drink?” You suggest, letting your smile turn a little sly. “And then we’d probably better call it a night since someone will need his beauty sleep.”

It’s easier to tease him, to stay in that annoying little sister zone, than to examine how your entire body reacts to the feeling of his hand around yours.

Cole laughs and squeezes your hand, letting your good-natured teasing roll over him. “Well, we know it’s definitely not you that needs the beauty sleep,” he says, the compliment genuine and surprising enough that you stumble a little in your heels, forcing Cole’s grip on your hand to tighten.

He doesn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the night, not until you’re back in the hotel lobby and heading for the elevator. Your fingers tingle from his touch and you’d truthfully forgotten about the single bed until it’s right in front of your face again.

“Which side do you want?” Cole asks, unbuttoning his cuffs.

“Hmm?” You blink at him. “Oh, I’ll take the floor or something, it’s your room.” The thought is disgusting, but you’ll take a couple of blankets and it’ll be fine. Anything other than sharing the bed with him.

He looks at you like you’ve grown another head. “Seriously? No chance I’m letting you sleep on the floor. It’s a Queen, plenty of room for us both.” He raises an eyebrow. “Unless you kick in your sleep or something?”

“No,” you laugh faintly. “I don’t kick. I just…I’m fine on the floor. We really don’t have to share.”

“Noodle,” Cole grins, undoing his belt. Fuck, Christ on a cracker, you’re trying so hard to not stare at his hands. This is ridiculous. “I don’t have cooties. We can share a bed like adults.”

Your face feels like it’s on fire, but you really have no room to argue, so you reluctantly agree and grab your toiletry case and pajamas, heading for the bathroom. You change quickly, thanking past you for packing sweats and an old Anaheim tee since you like to keep your hotel rooms cold. While you wash your face and brush your teeth, you give yourself a pep talk, a reminder that you’ll stay on your side of the bed and he’ll stay on his and it doesn’t mean anything.

Cole’s in his own sweats and tee when you get out of the bathroom. “I lowered the a/c to 65, is that cool?” He asks, twirling his toothbrush in between his fingers. “I remember you freaked on Z when he had the temperature set to 70 the other day.”

“That’s perfect,” you reply, tossing your toiletry bag on top of your suitcase and climbing into bed, the right side since it’s farther away from the door. You yank the covers up over your body, curling up into a little ball as far away from Cole’s side of the bed as possible. He already has a Friends rerun playing on the TV, so you zone out for a bit and let the familiar characters distract you.

When he’s done in the bathroom, Cole gets into bed too, stretching out on top of the covers. “We can change the channel, if you want?” He offers.

You shake your head. “Friends is good. So, how’s the rest of your summer been, when you’re not playing fake boyfriend?” You ask, turning onto your side so you can look at him. If you act normal, everything will be normal.

“It’s been good,” he replies, tucking one hand behind his head. You try not to focus on the way his bicep pops. “I’m going to head back out to Wisconsin after this, spend some more time with my family. Then I’ll be in Jersey the week before the next wedding, you should come hang out.”

You snort. “If Trev’s there, Quinn will like, have me blacklisted from the entire state. We’re not allowed to be together because we’re and I quote ‘more annoying than two humans have any reasonable right to be.’”

Cole’s grin is crooked and you want to press your fingers against the curve of his lips. “Yeah, Quinny hates it when you and Z are doing your sibling comedy show bullshit,” he laughs. “But it’s fucking hilarious.”

“Thank you, I’m glad someone appreciates our entertainment,” you reply, fluttering your lashes at him. “But if it’s just Jack and Lukey, maybe I’ll come out for dinner or something one day.”

You yawn and close your eyes, still maintaining a quiet conversation with Cole, the laugh track from the TV filling the brief silences.

The next morning, you’re surprised to find that you wake up rested and still on your side of the bed, albeit with your arm stretched out to Cole’s side, fingers just inches away from touching him. He’s snoring faintly and you laugh under your breath, taking the opportunity to get yourself out of bed and ready to go. You’d both slept in later than you anticipated, so you’ll have to start getting ready sooner rather than later.

It’s getting easier to be alone with Cole, conversations flow and if you’re distracted with your hair and make-up, you don’t think too much about how good he looks in his suit.

“Hey,” you poke your head into the bathroom, sheepish, “can you zip me up?”

Cole dries his hands on a towel and nods, “yeah, no problem.” His fingers are cool when they brush against your bare skin and you shiver, nipples tightening painfully. The zipper sounds impossibly loud in the room, blood rushing in your ears.

“Thanks,” you murmur and when you turn around, you’re mildly surprised to see the tips of Cole’s ears going pink. You’re pretty sure he can’t see your nipples through the fabric of your dress, but you glance down anyway to double check.

“You look beautiful,” Cole comments, looking you over. “I think I’m the luckiest guy at the wedding.”

“Not the groom?” You joke, heart pounding.

“Nah,” Cole’s smile is your favorite one, “definitely me.”

——

“I can’t believe I caught the bouquet,” you groan, holding the surprisingly heavy bundle like a baby in your arms.

“I can’t believe you almost spiked it to the ground when you caught it,” Cole unlocks the hotel room door and holds it open for you.

You shrug, kicking your heels off. “It surprised me!”

“I thought the little redhead was going to tackle you to the ground for it,” Cole laughs, toeing off his own shoes and undoing his tie. The ends hang loose over his chest and your alcohol hazy brain wants you to grab them and pull him into a kiss.

“Lola,” you reply, shaking your head like an Etch-a-Sketch to get rid of that thought and putting the bouquet on top of the dresser. “She’s been with her boyfriend since they were fourteen and she’s getting antsy.”

You both start getting changed without regard for the other person, tired and sore from dancing and scream-singing to Taylor Swift all night. You can still feel the impression of Cole’s hands on your body as you slow danced to ‘Lover.’ It really is so different getting to slow dance at a wedding with someone instead of sneaking off to the bathroom or watching from the sidelines.

“Jesus,” Cole snorts, voice muffled as he pulls his shirt on over his head. His hair sticks up in all directions when his head pops through the neck hole. “No one needs to get married before twenty-five.”

You nod your agreement, crawling into bed with a full face of makeup. You’ll regret it in the morning, but you just can’t be bothered right now. Not with the way your eyelids feel heavier and heavier with each blink. “She’s a child bride,” you mumble. “I wanna do stuff before I get married. Travel, get my Masters, get a puppy…”

Cole laugh is too close to your ear and you blink one eye open to see his face, just inches from yours.

“What kind of puppy?” He asks and you can smell the faint alcohol on his breath. It’s not unpleasant.

“A miniature dachshund,” you reply. “Gonna name him Quinn, just to piss off Quinny.”

Cole’s laugh is the last thing you’re aware of before falling asleep.

——-

You wake up with a dry mouth, a slight headache, and something hard pressed against your chest. It takes a minute in the dark room to realize what’s going on, but you finally recognize Cole’s back pressed to your chest, his ass snug against your hips.

Your leg is trapped in between his, the thick muscles keeping you locked in place.

His arm is over yours where it rests on his waist, his hand holding yours against his stomach.

Your cheek is pressed to the back of his shoulder, his heartbeat steady.

A quick spike of panic floods your veins, but then it dissipates just as quickly. He’s still asleep, he never has to know how tightly packed together you are. But there’s no way to disentangle your body without waking him up, so you sigh and give an experimental wiggle of your leg, trying to get it free.

Cole grumbles softly in his sleep, grips you tighter.

It’s useless to try and escape and sleep is already grabbing hold of you again, the warmth of Cole’s body relaxing you back into the mattress.

A few more hours of sleep couldn’t hurt.

You snuggle against him, your nose brushing his shoulder blade, and close your eyes, pretending.

———

When you wake up again, for good this time, you’re on your opposite side and Cole is gone. His side of the bed is still warm, though. You roll onto your back and scrub a hand over your face, trying to forget the feeling of your body wrapped around his.

The dull ache between your legs is making that really difficult.

The hotel room door opens and Cole walks in, two cups of coffee in his hands. “Oh!” He smiles when he sees you, so maybe you rolled away from him in the middle of the night and he didn’t wake up with you wrapped around him like an octopus. “Morning, I went and got coffees, figured we could use them. I didn’t want to wake you since you looked so peaceful and quiet,” he smirks and you roll your eyes, “but you drink an iced flat white, right?”

“Right,” you reply faintly, taking the proffered coffee. You draw your knees up to your chest and take a fortifying sip. The caffeine goes straight to your brain and you feel better immediately.

“So, how’d you sleep?” He asks, dropping down onto the mattress.

You squint at him, trying to gauge his tone. His face is unreadable. “Good,” you venture carefully. “Um, slept right through the night.”

Cole nods. “Yeah, me too. I’ll still probably manage another couple of hours on the flight to Wisconsin.”

He’s not acting any weirder than usual so you figure you’re in the clear. It gives you permission to act normally too, so you make small talk while you both pack up your suitcases.

“Should I toss this or bring it home with me?” You ask, lifting the bouquet up.

“Bring it home,” Cole nudges your foot with his. “Make sure you remember that you’re supposed to get married next.”

You roll your eyes at him. “I think we can count that out.” But you put the bouquet on top of your carry-on tote anyway, fingers tracing over the soft rose petals.

———

You take your own trip to the lake for Fourth of July with your girlfriends, getting the Spanish Inquisition about Cole and why you never mention him, why you never post him.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t bother you and you find that your answers are more honest than you’d expect in the situation.

You don’t mention him because you want to keep him to yourself. You don’t want everyone to know about your inside jokes and the smiles that you’re pretty sure are yours alone. You don’t want everyone to know about the way your skin tingles when he touches you, how you can feel the phantom touch of his hands long after they’re gone from your lower back or your arm or the back of your neck.

You don’t post pictures of him because you only have a handful of drunken selfies, blurry and out of focus.

You don’t mention him because it’s going to break your heart to have to go back to being just friends at the end of the summer and you won’t get to pretend that any of this is real.

——

You do end up spending a day in Jersey and unfortunately for Quinn, Trevor also pops up unexpectedly.

“Noodle!” He cheers when he sees you, lounging on Jack and Luke’s couch. He draws you into a huge, smothering hug and you fight him, pinching his sides to get him to let go.

“Oh my god,” you whine, pushing him away. “It’s like you didn’t just see me.”

“It’s been more than a month, you dweeb,” he retorts, flopping down next to Quinn and stealing a handful of popcorn. Quinn shoots him a dirty look and yanks his snack away. “You’ve been wedding hopping all summer.”

“It’s been two,” you sigh. “And at least I haven’t been in the Dixie Tik Tok fame vortex.”

Luckily for you, that opens Trevor up to being chirped by all three Hughes brothers and Cole. You settle back into the couch, feet tucked up under you while you watch the five guys take potshots at each other.

Trevor defends himself and turns the heat on Cole, shouting about how he’s hiding a secret girlfriend. Your stomach sinks to your feel and you feel hot and then cold all over.

Cole scoffs. “Just because I didn’t want to flirt with a couple of girls at the bar doesn’t mean I’m hiding a secret girlfriend,” he mutters.

“But there’s a girl involved?” Jack teases.

You think you’re going to throw up.

“No, no girl,” Cole says quickly, too quickly.

“There’s definitely a girl,” Quinn laughs. “Look how red he’s turning.”

“Dude‘s been so cagey about his plans,” Trevor says, taking more popcorn from Quinn. “Can’t keep track of him some weekends.”

Even though none of them are paying attention to you, too busy trying to get information out of Cole, you slip your phone from your pocket and look at the black screen. “Oh, I’m gonna head out,”

you announce, getting to your feet. “Long drive back to Connecticut.”

It’s a little unnerving when five sets of eyes all land on you.

“I just got here,” Trevor complains.

“Okay, so, I know this is a difficult concept for you to understand,” you say slowly, “but my life doesn’t revolve around you.”

Trevor scowls at you and flips you off, a gesture you return before waving good-bye and heading for the door. Cole is a few steps behind you, catching your wrist just before you open the door.

“Hey,” he rubs at the back of his head with his free hand, “that was…there’s no…”

He’s at a loss for words and you don’t really know what to say. He doesn’t owe you an explanation.

“It’s fine, it’s whatever, Cole,” you manage a small smile. “Have fun with the guys.”

Cole’s eyebrows draw together and he looks like he wants to say something, his jaw working briefly. You wait.

“I’ll see you on Sunday,” he says eventually. “Let me know what time I have to pick you up.”

“I’ll text you,” you nod, your wrist warm where his fingers were gripping it.

You step out of the condo and shut the door behind you, of course he’s got some girl that he sees. Just because he’s been your pity date to a few weddings doesn’t mean anything. You’d be smarter to remember that.

——-

Wedding three of four and you’re exhausted of them.

Or maybe you’re exhausted of pretending that you don’t care if Cole sees other girls while he’s got his arm wrapped around your shoulder and is introducing himself as your boyfriend, as if that’s his life’s crowning achievement and not his professional hockey career.

You chew crankily on a piece of bread, too stuck in your own thoughts to notice Cole returning to his seat from the bar.

“Someone kick your hypothetically puppy?” He jokes, sliding a glass of wine in front of you. “Do I have to defend puppy Quinn’s honor?”

“No,” you rearrange your features into a more neutral expression. Or what you hope is a neutral expression. “I just was thinking.”

“Always dangerous,” Cole replies, knocking his knee against yours. You can’t tell if it was an accident or not. You don’t know if you want it to be an accident or not.

Without really intending on it, you ask, “where do the guys think you are this weekend?” And then almost immediately, you wince and say, “you don’t have to answer that, Christ, I’m sorry.”

The stupid chirping in Jersey has clearly burrowed its way into your brain and won’t let go and you feel like an asshole.

“Uh, on my way back to Montreal, actually,” he admits, a strange expression on his face. “Told the guys I was gonna drive up, just to like check on my place.”

“Oh, okay,” you nod, hoping that he would’ve told them that he was with you. But it’s stupid because you’re not really dating.

Cole studies your face and you avoid making eye contact, choosing to knock back half of your glass of wine.

“Want to dance?” He asks you quietly, resting his hand, palm up, on the table in front of you.

“Yeah, I do,” you sigh, putting your hand in his, heart clenching when he laces his fingers with yours again. He pulls you to your feet and has you laughing and dancing halfway through the song. Cole twirls you around, catching you around the waist before he dips you dramatically.

The melancholy is long gone by the time you’re back in the car to make the quick drive home.

“I can’t believe you caught the stupid garter,” your laugh is too loud, soaked in alcohol. You stretch the garter between your fingers, aiming it at the windshield like a slingshot but never releasing it. “What are the freaking odds?”

“A million to one,” Cole laughs. “Isn’t it a thing? Like the person who catches the bouquet marries the person who catches the garter?”

“I think that’s only if it’s at the same wedding,” you reply, leaning your head against the glass. “Hey, Cole?”

“Yeah, Noodle?”

“Thanks for being my wedding date this summer,” you sigh. “I know it’s probably not what you really wanted to spend your time doing, but it’s been so much fun. You’re the best fake boyfriend and real friend a girl could ask for.”

You close your eyes, but can hear the smile in Cole’s voice when he replies, “anything for you.”

——-

“What are you doing here?” Trevor pulls open the front door, pushing you out of the way with the other hand.

“Jesus, Trev,” you snap, kicking at his shin. You smile at Cole, “please, welcome to the Zegras siblings show, refreshments are in the kitchen.”

Cole skirts past the two of you and closes the door behind him, smirking. “I’m early, I know,” he shrugs a little. “Figured I’d hang out while you guys get ready.”

Trevor’s eyes are narrowed and he’s got his palm in the middle of your forehead, keeping you at arm’s distance. “Dude, we’ve got our cousin’s wedding today. Did I double book?”

“No,” you roll your eyes and smack Trevor’s hand away, stepping to the side. “Did you ever think Cole’s here to see me?”

“Why would he be here to see you?” Trevor crosses his arms over his chest, wrinkling his button down.

“He’s my date for the wedding,” you shrug casually, dropping the bomb and heading for the kitchen. You pull a pair of Spindrift cans from the fridge and toss one to Cole. He catches it easily.

Trevor’s eyes bug out of his head and you laugh, enjoying his dramatics. “He’s your date?” He asks incredulously, gaze ping-ponging between the two of you. “What the fuck?”

Cole nods, “yeah, I’ve been taking Noodle to all her weddings this summer.”

Trevor’s jaw drops. And then it snaps shut and his eyes narrow angrily. “Are you fucking dating my sister? Without talking to me about it?”

“Oh calm down,” you snatch a throw pillow off the couch and whack Trevor in the stomach with it. “Not that who I date is your business, but Cole’s been pretending to be my boyfriend, just to like, keep everyone from being all ‘oh, look at the poor sad single girl.’”

“You’re fake dating?” Trevor looks stunned. “Dude, you and mom need to stop watching all those Hallmark movies.” He shakes his head and ruffles his hair.

“Yeah, fake dating,” Cole repeats, twisting the can in his hands. “It’s been fun.”

“You’re both insane if you think fake dating at a family wedding is a good idea,” Trevor cackles. “But good fucking luck and don’t even think about actually dating my sister, asshole.”

He turns on his heel and heads up to his room, leaving you and Cole alone with his parting words. You scoff and give Cole a tiny smile. “Still time to back out, if you don’t want to deal with the extended Zegras clan.”

“I’m all in, Noodle,” he reassures you and for once, the childhood nickname doesn’t grate on your nerves like it usually does.

“Oh,” your cheeks hurt from the size of your smile. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

——-

The warning turns out to be unnecessary.

Cole fits in stupidly well with your extended family, charming aunts left and right, discussing golf and hockey with your uncles. Hell, even your younger cousins are having fun hanging out with him.

“This is ridiculous,” you grumble to your cousin, unable to hide the faint smile on your face.

She laughs and bumps your hip with hers, “aren’t you supposed to want your boyfriend to get along with your family?”

You hum, “right. Yeah, definitely want Cole to get along with the fam.”

“Bold move, bringing him to the wedding,” she says idly. You’re quiet as you watch Cole and Trevor do some stupid made up dance routine to ‘Shake it Off,’ one that involves literally so much ass shaking.

“He assured me he could handle it,” you reply, the music changing to a familiar rhythm, all of your Greek relatives transitioning into a circle for the traditional wedding dances. You join the circle and end up between Trevor and Cole, holding their hands with yours. You barely know the steps, but neither do Trevor and Cole, so you’re all tripping over each other trying to keep up with the fast music and your relatives.

“This is crazy,” Cole shouts on a laugh, his hand sweaty in yours.

“I told you!” You laugh back, stepping on Trevor’s foot and nearly falling to the ground. Trevor keeps you upright with his side, sort of pushing you back onto your feet, and you’re off for another circle around the dance floor.

The DJ plays two more songs and goes back to the popular hits, leaving you, Cole, and Trevor sweaty and out of breath as you stumble towards the bar. “Fuck,” Trevor mutters, pushing his hair off his face and ordering three beers, “I don’t think I’ve even attempted those dances since I was a kid.”

“And you still suck just as much,” you tease, taking a sip of your beer.

“I’m not the dumb fuck that almost took down the whole group,” Trevor shoots back good-naturedly.

Cole holds up his hands, “children, children, this is a day of love. No fighting.”

You hold up your own hands in a sign of surrender. Trevor salutes Cole with his beer bottle. “I’m gonna go see a man about a horse,” he says, dropping the old-fashioned saying like it’s a normal thing to say.

Cole squints after him as he walks away. “What the fuck does that mean?” He asks you, casually guiding you off to the side of the bar where it’s just a little bit quieter.

“He’s going to find our dad and see if he’s got any leftovers from dinner that he can steal,” you laugh. “He’s done it since we were kids, no idea where it started.”

“Fucking weirdo,” Cole laughs too and you know he’ll use that bit of information to make fun of Trevor in the future. You fall into w comfortable silence, sipping at your beers, until Cole nudges the back of your hand with his knuckles. “Did I tell you that you look gorgeous? You look insane in red,” his smile is soft and his cheeks are tinged pink.

Your own face feels hot, pleased that the strategic deployment of your skin-tight red party dress is doing what you wanted it to do. “I’ll always take another compliment, especially if it’s from you,” you reply quietly.

The air in between your bodies crackles, shifting imperceptibly. Cole leans forward and subconsciously, you do too. The noise of the reception fades away and all you can focus on is Cole.

“I wasn’t…” he pauses, rubs his free hand over his chin. “I should’ve said something earlier or waited, I don’t know. Fuck, I’m not explaining myself well.”

Your heart feels like it’s stopped beating in your chest, your lungs frozen as you hold your breath, waiting for Cole to spit out whatever he’s trying to say. What you hope he’s trying to say.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, after a few heartbeats’ worth of silence and you’re pretty sure you misheard him.

“What?” You ask stupidly.

Cole’s smile grows and he steps even closer to you. “I would very much like to kiss you, can I?”

You can only nod, blood rushing in your ears and your heart pounding in your chest. Cole’s free hand comes up to cup your cheek and his thumb brushes over your cheekbone and the next thing you know, his lips are slotted over yours and your only thought is that Cole Caufield is actually kissing you.

A soft little whimper leaves your mouth, swallowed up by Cole’s lips and you can feel him smile, his fingers sliding into your hair to pull your face closer to his. A frisson of pleasure sparks low in your stomach, heat pooling between your legs.

Your mouth falls open, giving him access to slide his tongue into your mouth and the kiss gets a little messy, teeth and tongue and your free hand lands on Cole’s chest, fingers curling around the lapel of his jacket, crushing the fabric and pulling him in.

Eventually, you get dizzy - from lack of oxygen or from Cole’s kiss, who’s to say? - and you pull back slightly, breathing hard. Cole’s forehead rests against yours and he huffs a little laugh against your cheek.

“Um,” you murmur, head spinning.

“I’ve wanted to do that,” Cole says quietly, his fingers still buried in your hair, “for months.”

A giggle bubbles out of your chest and you nod, bumping Cole’s nose with yours. “I’ve wanted you to do that for years,” you confess, equally as quiet.

“Cool,” Cole presses his lips to yours again, a softer, sweeter kiss. “Can I take you on a date?”

“I’m all out of weddings for the summer,” you tease, leaning back against the wall and letting Cole press his hand against the wall next to your head.

“I think we’ll be able to figure something out,” his smile is contagious and you can’t believe that this is really happening.

——-

“Here lies Trevor Zegras’s sanity,” Trevor pronounces loudly, drunkenly, before tossing a handful of grass onto the fire burning away in the fire pit. “It died a week ago when I saw my best friend (“Hey!” Jamie interrupts indignantly.) groping my sweet, innocent baby sister (“Gross!” you yelp, fake gagging.) in my own living room!”

“I may never know peace again,” Trevor continues, ignoring yours and Jamie’s interjections, gesturing wildly with his White Claw. “But thank you all for joining me in memorializing the death of my vision.”

“Oh my god,” you whine, leaning forward to throw the pillow behind your back at Trevor. He bats it out of the air, just nearly missing the fire. “You didn’t even see anything!”

The Hughes brothers and Jamie all snigger when Trevor’s face falls into a sharp expression of suspicion. He squints at you, the effect ruined by the way his stupid polarized sunglasses fall down his forehead, “was there anything to see?”

Cole pinches your ankle where it’s resting on his lap, a warning. You shoot him a winning grin, before turning back to Trevor and deadpanning, “a lady never blows and tells.”

The uproar of noise from your brother and his friends makes you cackle, Cole’s hand around your calf like a brand. He catches your eye and shakes his head at you, smirking. You paste an innocent look on your face and lean in for a kiss while the guys are distracted.

“Stop,” Trevor whines, “my ears are dead now too! My best friend and my sister! Conspiring against me!”

“Okay, Ross Gellar,” you snark, “chill out. And stop sacrificing the grass to the fire pit, Dad’s going to freak out when there’s a bald spot.”

Trevor flops down onto an armchair, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. “I’ll just blame you, Noodle,” he teases, holding his hand out for another spiked seltzer. Jack passes him one and takes one for himself.

The backyard is cool, mid-August starting to transition into fall. The guys will be heading back to their corners of the continent in the next few days, but it’s the last hurrah for summer. They’ll spend the night and get in their last bits of ‘guy time’ before the season starts. They do it every year and this year an invitation was graciously extended to you. Aka you tucked yourself up against Cole’s side and flipped Trevor off when he demanded that you leave.

No chance you were missing out on any time with Cole before he heads up to Montreal and you head down to Villanova for grad school. You’ll probably end up see Jamie the most out of any of the guys during the season.

“Can we just talk about the fact that these two were dating all summer under our noses?” Jamie jabs his thumb in your direction, passing around a container of Zyn.

“It wasn’t all summer,” you correct with a shrug. “It’s only been a week.”

For whatever reason, Trevor hadn’t mentioned the fake dating portion of your summer, instead just sending around a blast to the group chat that you and Cole were ‘offending his delicate sensibilities’ by making out in front of him at your cousin’s wedding. The fact that he sent the text literally at the exact moment Cole was biting down on your lower lip to muffle mutual laughter at Trevor’s overdramatic soap opera-esque gasp only makes the story better.

Cole stayed in Connecticut after the wedding, taking you out on the promised date and sneaking into your room every night after the rest of your family had gone to bed.

You’d already booked a flight to Montreal for your fall break while wrapped up in his arms, telling bad jokes in your ear while you tried to remember your credit card number.

It’s only been a week, but it feels like much longer and you’re not ready for the season to start again.

“You’re the secret girl he wouldn’t tell us about all summer,” Quinn comments.

“I didn’t need you fuckers saying anything stupid before I actually asked her out,” Cole defends himself, rubbing his thumb over your ankle bone.

“Who? Us?” Jack cackles, setting off a chain of laughter.

You giggle and lean forward, bending at the waist and angling your knees towards Cole’s chest so you don’t knock yourself in the face. The breeze shifts and blows smoke from the fire pit in your direction so you bury your face in Cole’s shoulder to avoid the smoke stinging your eyes. He tangles his hand in your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp, drawing a contented groan from your throat.

“You two are disgusting and I hate it,” Trevor whines, sunglasses fully over his eyes now even though it’s pitch black beyond the glow of the fire.

“I thought your vision was dead?” You snap back, turning your head so your cheek is pressed to Cole’s shoulder. “Isn’t that why we were all called to this funeral?”

Trevor nods, “right, yeah, almost forgot.” He starts humming ‘Pomp and Circumstance,’ and that’s what ends up killing you. Laughter bubbles out of your chest and soon you’re unable to control the hysterical laughter that has you gasping for air.

The rest of the guys crack up too, leaving Trevor to cut off his humming and snap, “what?”

“That’s the graduation song, you dumbass,” Cole chokes out around laughter.

Trevor shrugs, “who gives a shit? You’re graduating from my best friend to Noodle’s boyfriend, it kind of works.”

The heat radiating from your face has nothing to do with your proximity to the fire pit and everything to do with Trevor’s use of the b-word. It’s been a week, sure you’ve been in love with Cole for years, but you have no desire to scare him off.

“What song are you gonna hum, badly, when I graduate to being your brother-in-law?” Cole teases, keeping his arms around you so you can’t wiggle away and escape.

Without missing a beat, Trevor shoots back, “the Hannah Montana classic, ‘Everybody Makes Mistakes.’”

“God, your entire existence was a mistake,” you groan, enjoying the way Cole’s hand is rubbing up and down your back. Without really noticing, Cole’s managed to manoeuvre your body so you’re sitting on his lap, one arm banded around your stomach to keep you in place. You lean back slightly, your head on Cole’s shoulder and he presses a kiss to your jaw, making you smile.

Trevor flips you off and the conversation shifts again, the guys discussing the upcoming season and the changes they’re all going to be facing on their respective teams.

“Hey,” Cole whispers in your ear, making you shiver. “Insider info, Brock’s proposing to Caroline soon.”

You hum, warm in his arms.

“Think you’d want to be my plus one?” He asks, kissing the side of your neck. “As my real girlfriend, not a fake one.”

“Oh,” you breathe. “Well, I guess I can make that work. We’ll have to get our story straight though.”

Cole laughs against your cheek, “it’ll evolve.”

You turn and press your mouth to his, nipping gently at his lower lip, letting your tongue trace over his teeth. His hand roams up your spine and cups the back of your neck, pulling your face impossibly closer to his. Kissing Cole will never get old.

A sharp whistle draws your attention and one of the guys, you’re too dazed to differentiate their voices, jokes, “get a room!”

Cole bites at your lower lip, sucking it between his teeth. You grin against his mouth, moaning a little just to annoy the guys.

“Shut the fuck up,” the voice is unmistakably your brother’s, “they’re gonna use my room just to piss me off.”

You giggle, the noise swallowed by Cole’s kiss, and make no plans to move from your perch. Based on Cole’s grip on your neck, he has no plans to move either.

Now that he’s yours, after years of crushing, you’re not taking a single second for granted.

[lookismfanfics]

𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

Fluff. Established relationship. HOSTEL TIMESKIP

Eli x GN Reader/Hostel x GN Reader

It was fairly early in the morning when Eli shook you awake. You mumbled and groaned about how early it was, but he persisted.

Reaching numbly to turn on the lamp, you stared at the concerned features of your boyfriend. He looked tired… which didn’t surprise you. College was tiring, after all. He usually woke up early anyways. A nasty habit of his, in your opinion. His brows drawn into a tight knit, his lips pursed and cheeks flushed. He would look adorable if it weren’t for the urgency in his manners and expression.

“I need you to wake up. Can you stay downstairs by the door, in case she comes back?” He whispers. Immediately your face lights up, and you shoot upright.

“What’s going on?” You ask, quickly draping your legs over the side of the bed.

Eli places his warm hand against your shoulder.

“Nothing bad. She’s gonna come back soon… but Yenna and I got into an argument.” You rub your eyes, grogginess returning to you. “About what?”

Eli is silent, running a hand through his freshly-highlighted hair. The gray really contrasts with the dark natural color. You like it.

“She wanted to go to a birthday party…” he begins. You sigh, rubbing his shoulder while shaking your head. “Eli…”

“I know. Just…I can’t. So she said she was running away, and I said: okay.” He stands up.

You notice some flour dusting his shirt and pants. He was probably in the process of baking pancakes. Yenna’s favorite.

“She packed her bags… even took Warren’s jacket,” Eli moves to the door. “I know she’ll be back. I just want to follow her. Make sure she doesn’t get into trouble.”

“Where is she now?-!” You ask, alert and worried.

Eli is already treading down the stairs, his posture slumped. “She’s outside, sitting on the curb.”

The knot in your brow releases slightly as you heave a relieved sigh. Proceeding Big Daddy, you wander downstairs, glancing out the slightly-tinted windows and catching sight of Yenna. Sure enough, at six-years-old, she looks totally prepared to face the world alone. She looks more ready to tackle taxes than you are. Yenna sits idly, playing with her hair and leaning forward onto her knees. She looks apprehensive, clearly not knowing which way to go.

You cross your arms, leaning against the wall and watching her for a while. As you stand there, you hear heavy feat gracelessly flopping down the stairs. Warren walks up beside you curiously. “What’s going on?” “We have a runaway problem.”

He stares outside seriously. This would be the first time Yenna ever attempted something like this. He buttons up his shirt absently. “I’ll go get her.”

“No… Eli— uh- wants to let her do this. For a little. She’ll come back.”

Sure enough, Yenna stands and is on the move. Her daddy is ready to follow, careful not to be seen. You and Warren wait anxiously. Soon you’re joined by Sally.

So then it’s the three of you. You sip on your (favorite drink.) Sally distractedly tries to chew away at her newest assignment. Warren taps his foot and stares at the door.

“I’ll work on the pancakes, actually,” you announce. Thank god it’s Saturday. Yenna has been gone for half an hour now (she’s become really stubborn- maybe she is her father’s daughter). Had it been a week day, you three would have been late to campus.

Eli had gotten halfway through mixing the wet ingredients. You grab a rubber spatula and continue his work. The corners of your eyes sting and remnants of your dust allergy have yet to vanish. A swell of frustration pulses in your head. It’s so early in the morning. You hope Yenna was wearing Warren’s jacket at least. It was cold, after all-

The front door opens and shuts. Eli enters and remains by the entrance, his hand gripping the knob.

Sally breaks the silence eagerly, “Is she coming back?”

Eli doesn’t answer. You stare at him, a frown on your face. Of course Yenna is coming back. Eli wants to be the first to greet her.

There’s a tentative knock on the door. “Hello? Who is it?”

“Daddy? Can I come home now?”

While you and Sally crack smiles, Warren rubs aggressively at his eyes. (It must’ve been some dust. Yeah.)

Eli remains stoic at the door. “Sorry, who is this?”

The voice on the other side sighs. “It’s Yenna Jang.”

You turn back to the pancakes. You haven’t parented Yenna as much as the others have, so you really don’t have the right to be upset about this. Why else would you by crying? I mean… you aren’t crying. You don’t even want to.

Eli opens the door, remaining upright. “Hey Yenna. I missed you.” “I missed you too.”

“Did you get into any trouble?”

“No.”

“…Do you want to be part of this family again?”

“Yeah…!”

You assume he’s knelt beside her. Based on the silence, they’re probably hugging. You smile to yourself, continuing to distract yourself by beating in the eggs and perfecting the batter. Yenna’s shoes echo through the room as she runs up to Warren and Sally, apologizing for running away and wishing them a “good morning.”

“(Y/N)! I was running away!” You jump, your head snapping onto the little Yenna who magically spawned beside you. “Oh no… but you decided to come back?”

Eli locks the door and grabs her discarded bags, trudging upstairs. There’s something about the color in his face that is off putting.

“Yeah! Because I missed everyone,” Yenna admits. She grabs onto your waist, staring up at you. “I’m sorry.”

“Well it’s okay. Just don’t scare us like that, okay?”

She nods.

“I also knew I had to come back. Because daddy is going to marry you soon, and I didn’t—”

“Yenna!”

Just a blurb… because I can’t seem to finish my actual requests 😭

[blackhairedjjun]

flowers of every color | 9. purple hyacinths

overall summary: when your father is assigned as the new head gardener to the royal family, you are also tasked with helping him maintain the castle's many gardens and extensive floral arrangements. by chance you find yourself crossing paths with the "ice-cold" crown prince, choi yeonjun... who turns out to be not as ice-cold as everyone says he is.

chapter summary: soobin checks on yeonjun, and beomgyu checks on you; you take the first step to make amends.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: a bit of angst, general panicking/anxiety

author's note: second to the last main chapter! finally getting a break from the angst here i swear 🙏

prev | masterlist | next

soobin doesn’t even need to knock for the older choi to sense his presence. “come in,” he says.

yeonjun is sitting at the edge of his bed when his friend and younger relative enters. he doesn’t even turn in his direction, instead gazing at the flower vase where the wilting striped carnations still are, their stems turning brown. he hasn’t even considered getting them replaced.

“i know you’re still mad at y/n,” he says, moving aside so that soobin can sit next to him, “but don’t be too hard on them, please.”

“i just wish they could’ve ended things properly with you instead of avoiding you.”

yeonjun looks down at his hands and fidgets. “but i... does it matter? maybe they were right, i shouldn’t be friends with them. i mean, shit” — his voice trembles — “i’m getting married. even if we fixed things i can’t just run off to teatime and spend time with them like we used to.”

“well, even if that’s the case” — soobin pauses and stares at him. “wait, hold on, the engagement is real now?!”

yeonjun flops on the bed, buries his face in a pillow, and lets out a long, muffled whine.

“i… i thought things would slow down and all.”

“i thought so too!” yeonjun throws the pillow aside, nearly hitting soobin with it. “but the bride’s mother is a control freak! she’s going to get this alliance even if she forces us all into it! and all our advisors agree that the agreement is just too good to pass up, so if i say that i don’t want to get married, i’ll look like the court idiot.”

“hyung, your mom has to do something about this. she’s bought you time before.”

“how much? even if she buys me time, i’ll still have to marry that princess!” he lets out another whine. “i barely know anything about her! she won’t tell me anything about herself and her mom is probably feeding her things to say so that she doesn’t ruin the engagement! what the hell do i do? i can’t marry a stranger, i just can’t… why can’t i marry y/n instead?”

soobin stares at him. yeonjun, realizing what he just said, sits up and stares back in horror. his ears start to turn red.

“please forget that i just said that.”

the younger choi simply grins. “hyung, beomgyu and i have known since the first time we saw you two together.”

“are you serious?! was it really that obvious?”

“pretty much.” soobin looks down and purses his lips, lost in thought, then glances back up at yeonjun. “that’s why i’m so upset at them at first. you two looked so happy together, and i hoped that you would stay happy. when they stopped being friends with you, it was like stopping a good dream.”

“well, it is just a dream anyway. even if i somehow fixed things with them and they felt that way about me too, it’s not like i can be with them.”

“you never know, hyung. one of the princes in the central region got to choose his wife! i was there at his wedding.”

“maybe, i just hope it’s not too late for me.”

soobin shrugs. “does y/n know how you feel?”

“i never told them. what if they figured it out and stopped being friends with me because they don’t feel the same way?”

“not with the way they look at you.”

yeonjun glares at soobin, mouth agape.

“what?” soobin elbows him lightly. “it’s true! i saw how they looked at you a while ago when you said you were busy. they looked like you stomped on their heart!”

“but they stomped on mine first! how could they feel that way?!” 

“i don’t know with them! just stop stomping on each other’s hearts!” soobin huffs. “look, both of you are hurting and it’s unlike you to be this hopeless.”

yeonjun buries his face in the pillow again, but instead of a whine he just lets out a low groan. he feels his friend pull him closer to his side and his hand rubbing circles in his back. sighing, he pries the pillow off himself.

they both sit in silence for a few moments. yeonjun glances at the vase of wilted carnations and lets himself remember all the flowers you’ve delivered to him. he dwells on the pink roses you left him after the dance, and how he always imagined dancing with you again. he loved having you in his arms and he dreams still of holding you even closer.

even as every day conspires to make that dream nothing more than a flight of fancy, a part of him has always held onto it.

“you’re right. i wish we could just work things out.”

“they will.”

“how do you know?”

“i don’t, but beomgyu’s talking to y/n right now. i think that’s a good sign.”

yeonjun looks at him with eyes full of hope. “about what?”

“dunno, but i bet he’s talking sense into them.”

—

you sit on the grass and hug your knees. the cold response from yeonjun has made your body feel unbearably heavy, so much that you need to sit to be able to bear your own weight. your head is slumped and you close your eyes as you try to grapple with the image of your friend ignoring you and walking away, when all he has ever done before is stay close to you and ask you to stay close by him too. without meaning to you find yourself in front of the wall of emotions again, and this time trying to climb or even approach it feels more daunting than ever.

you feel something shift next to you, snapping you out of your spiral, and open your eyes to see beomgyu seated next to you on the grass.

“your…” you throat feels dry. “your trousers will get dirty…”

“it’s okay, they’re dark colored anyway so no one will see. how are you feeling?”

you bite your lip. beomgyu tilts his head at you and watches you with shining eyes, as if to say go on, you can say whatever you want. you still feel the wall of emotions looming over you, so you say nothing.

“or we can sit down here as long as you like,” he says, filling the air with chatter. “it’s a pretty day, isn’t it? i like this time of year when the weather’s not too warm and the sky is clear. usually soobin hyung and yeonjun hyung and i will play a lot of games or go swimming or ride the horses, especially when we were kids. we don’t do it as much ‘cause of all the meetings, and also ‘cause we get tired faster.”

you nod. there’s something oddly comforting about the image of the three boys playing games in the meadows as kids.

“we usually do it here ‘cause yeonjun hyung’s family has the biggest open grounds, but sometimes we go to soobin hyung’s or my home. we have a tennis court at our castle grounds, you should come! i think you’d be good at it. you were really good at that badminton game.”

“oh… thanks.”

“did you play a lot of sports growing up?”

“a little bit.” you loosen your grip on your knees. “usually when the other children invite me to play, but i never start it myself.”

“oh! you weren’t the type to go running around a lot?”

you shake your head. 

“mm, what did you do when you were a kid?”

“uh, gardening.” you laugh. “and drawing, but i wasn’t very good. i just liked doing it.”

beomgyu laughs too. you start to chat with him about both of your childhood memories, and as you do, the heaviness starts to lift from your body. the initial shock from your encounter with yeonjun starts to subside, and though you still feel that wall of emotions looming in front of you, your mind has now taken a few steps back from it. besides, you no longer feel like you’re facing that wall alone; beomgyu is with you, making sure that you’re okay.

he’s in the middle of telling a story about the time he and another prince from the house of huening once snuck into the kitchen to steal some chocolates, and you listen and wait for him to finish. you’re pretty sure he’s exaggerating the story but it doesn’t matter and you laugh anyway. you feel calm now, not quite free from the heaviness but at least in a place to carry it better.

“hey, beomgyu?”

“what is it?”

“i...” you gaze up at the sky. “i’m scared.”

his expression changes from a carefree smile to a look of concern. “what are you scared of?”

“everything, i guess.” you grip the fabric of your gardener’s smock. “i’m scared that i’ll never talk to yeonjun again and that i broke his heart. what if he doesn’t want to be friends anymore even if i try to make it up to him? but even if i do try to be friends again, will everyone else even let me? he’s getting engaged and he has that princess now, would she even let me be a part of his life? and what if the staff gets suspicious of me again and i get fi—”

“whoa, whoa. slow down, y/n.” he lifts an arm to put around your shoulder, and you let him. “let’s take it one at a time, okay?”

you take a deep breath. “what i mean is, i feel like i’m going to lose either way. either i lose yeonjun because i stopped being friends with him, or i lose him because he’s a prince and i’m just a gardener.”

beomgyu nods and pats your shoulder. “it’s okay to be scared,” he says, his voice soft. “we’re all scared, actually. yeonjun hyung’s terrified. we have to learn to not look scared because we’re princes and people look up at us, but we’re just as scared as you.”

“i know he’s scared too. i’m worried about him but i just... i just wish i knew what to do. it feels like everything i do will hurt, whether it’s me or him or the both of us.”

you hear your companion humming as he tries to think. “i think you can take things slowly...? ‘cause it is scary trying to solve all those things at once, but maybe there’s something small that you can handle.”

“something small...” you smooth down your gardener’s smock. now that you’ve backed away from the wall and aired out your fears, everything feels less overwhelming. you can see the pieces of your problems now: your friendship, your feelings, yeonjun’s feelings, his betrothal. you still can’t fix everything 一 maybe if you had less self-restraint, you’d kick down the doors of the cathedral on his wedding day 一 but seeing each piece of the puzzle gives you some clarity.

you can’t fix the court politics that he’s gotten himself into, but you can make amends with yeonjun. maybe it won’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but it’s better than nothing.

you turn to beomgyu with a small smile.

“hey, what are you thinking of now? are you concocting some sort of grand scheme?”

“nothing grand.” you stand up and brush the grass off yourself. “you’re right, i need to start small.”

一

you aren’t part of the official party to send off the visiting branches of the house of choi, but you find a convenient excuse to go water the marigolds at the front entrance where the sending-off will occur. you stand off to the side, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, hidden from the line of sight of the farewell party: the royal family, their advisors, queen hwayoung and princess ajin and their advisors, and a dozen other members of the court. their eyes and yours are all on the parade of carriages ready to leave through the main gate and back to their respective kingdoms.

you watch beomgyu approach one carriage first with his parents, smiling and waving, thanking them for the nice room and the good food and the pleasant time. he waves freely with his left arm while his right arm cradles a pot of sweet peas 一 the one you miraculously managed to prepare just that morning. you smile at the sight just as he spots you off to the side. his smile becomes wider and he mouths good luck to you before finally climbing in his carriage. 

soobin and his parents are next, and though he appears shyer than the younger choi, he still manages to give little bows and dimpled smiles at everyone. he doesn’t wave, not when both of his hands are carrying the sweet pea pot you prepared, and you can’t help but giggle at it. he seems to have taken some invisible cue from beomgyu, because he spots you instantly, then nods and mouths take care at you before he too climbs into the carriage and prepares to leave.

once all the carriages and carts are ready, the main gate opens and you watch them exit, one by one, all while the farewell party continues to shout well-wishes for safe travels. for a while you can see soobin and beomgyu still waving at everyone and shouting greetings back. you can’t yell any yourself without getting noticed, so you send your farewells silently from your heart, hoping that your goodwill will reach them anyway and be felt long after you’re gone from their sight.

the carriages disappear and the party starts to disperse. queen hwayoung and princess ajin disappear almost instantly, and the other court officials start to head back as well. soon only the royal family is left, and the king and queen are soon whisked away by a guard for some important matter to attend to. that leaves yeonjun just behind everyone else, and you take your cue.

“your majesty.”

you hate using his title on him again, but you need to keep up the pretense.

yeonjun whips around. “who’s ther一”

you step out from the side and take out what you previously hid among the marigolds: a small pot of purple hyacinths. “it’s me, your majesty.”

for a few moments he simply stares at you, posture rigid. he doesn’t approach but raises an eyebrow. “‘your majesty’? c’mon are we really not一”

before he can say anything more, you shove the pot into his hands. “pleasenotnownotoutside,” you say. you start to tremble and try to steady yourself with a long, deep breath. “i mean, not where people can see us, please, not here…”

yeonjun’s posture shifts. he grabs you by the arm and pulls you away from the main entrance and off to small courtyard at the side. he looks around to confirm that there’s no one watching, then sets down the pot and steps toward you.

before you can back away, he places a hand on your cheek and gazes at you with tears starting to form in his eyes. his whole expression softens as he studies your face, and you feel the old warmth blooming in your chest 一 it’s been too long since you felt that sensation.

“are you okay? is anyone threatening you?”

he says it so softly that you could melt right into him. you shake your head.

“did they punish you again?”

you shake your head again. “they could if they see us…” 

yeonjun tries to say more but you only tut and tilt your head towards the pot.

he nods, brushing your cheek with his thumb and blinking away his tears, then crouches down to where the pot is. he gazes at the delicate purple flowers before he sees the paper you tucked in between the stalks, then he fishes it out and reads your message:

dear yeonjun, these purple hyacinths are for sorrow and apologies. i’m sorry. i hurt you and i shouldn’t have. please let me explain myself to you. meet me at the gazebo tonight at midnight, and i’ll tell you everything.

he pockets the message and stands up to face you again. as he stands close to you, he takes both your hands in his, tilting his head down towards yours to lock eyes with you.

“okay, i’ll be there.”

already the hours to midnight feel too long.

notes: everybody say thank you beomgyu 😌 we are wrapping things up real soon!!

taglist (CLOSED) @seosalad @lilplilplilp @yeonboy @pyuae @hyuneyeon @strawbrinkofdeath @yushiu @mazeinthemoon @banggyu0308 @shytubatu @kyaneosprincess @agustdiv1ne @whippedforbeomgyu @justineasian @skywithf1 @wrongbathroom @choizzn @bangchansbae @huskyhunny @catsyoon @flowerbe0m

[readyforthegarden]

Breakable Heaven - Part Four

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Female Reader

Synopsis: Being the maid of honor in your best friends wedding is already stressful enough without the best man being the ex-boyfriend who tore your heart to shreds. Stumbling across a dating app with dates for hire, you take a chance, inviting a perfect stranger to pretend to be your boyfriend for the weeklong celebrations. But how long can the charade last when the champagne starts pouring and feelings start growing?

Warnings: talks of betrayal and cheating, drinking, slight voyeurism (watching someone change) 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

WC: 3808

Dinner that night was fine, Danny was introduced to a few more bridesmaids that had made the journey in. And the next day was lackluster for him, the groomsmen didn’t have a plan, but the bridesmaids were all meeting up at a local dress shop, for one last look to make sure all the alterations done were perfect. 

 Danny was grateful Gavin seemed to keep away from you and him, though the occasional glare was tossed Danny’s way. It made Danny feel proud in some ways, that he had this effect on the man, and he wasn’t even really dating you. And that Danny was intimidating enough to keep distance from, well that was a cherry on top.

He didn’t really think much of Gavin outside of seeing him, until you burst into the hotel room in the late afternoon on Tuesday, your garment bag tossed over your shoulder. Your face was red, and you were doing your best to catch your breath. Danny paused the movie he had been watching and got up from his relaxed position on the couch, coming over to you. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, taking the garment bag off of you and draping it over the arm of the couch behind him. “You seem upset.”

“Naomi showed up early.” you grumbled, kicking off your shoes. 

“Oh.” Danny shoved his hands in his pockets, not exactly knowing what to say. “Uh, what happened?”

“She showed up to the dress shop, Gavin told her where we’d be. She just showed up, uninvited and unexpected.” you moved around him, going to the couch and flopping on it. “Olivia was going to send her back here but there wasn’t any point.” 

“Did Naomi do something?” Danny asked, lifting your legs and sitting under them, resting them back on his lap. “Say something?”

“No,” you pouted. “I just…it’s so stupid but I hadn’t seen her in a long time. And I didn’t think seeing her again would make me feel like this.”

“Like what?” Danny leaned in, his voice soft. You shrugged, avoiding his eyes. 

“I don’t know…I guess kind of like a loser?” your fingers busied themselves with a loose button on your cream colored knit cardigan sweater. “It just makes me feel pathetic. I shouldn’t care about her or Gavin.”

Danny watched as you bit your bottom lip, staring down at the button. 

“You don’t care about them.” Danny told you softly, rubbing a hand up and down your jean-clad calf soothingly. “But that doesn’t mean the hurt doesn’t come back when you see them again. Gavin really hurt you, honey.” The pet name slipped out, but if it bothered you, you didn’t show it. 

“Naomi was another friend of mine.” you mumbled. “A coworker, really but I trained her and we got close and started hanging out. I should’ve noticed Gavin would leave the bed when she’d stay the night.” your name fell from Danny’s lips in a soft whisper, panged with sadness. “I thought ‘wow, what a great guy I have, checking on my friend in the night, making sure she has enough blankets.’ I was so stupid…and maybe I was a bad girlfriend and deserved it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Danny leaned over, wiping a stray tear you failed to hold back from your cheek. “You didn’t deserve it, even on your worst day.” your shoulders shrugged in response.

“My grandma always said ‘you’re either a lesson or a blessin’’. your response was paired with a sheepish smile. “Maybe this is my lesson.” Danny pulled his hand away, sitting back up as he rested it back on your calf. 

“I hope you get your blessing soon, then.” 

“Who knows, maybe I’ll get it this weekend.” A small laugh rippled from your chest. “Maybe they’ll fall down a well and go missing.”

“I’ll dig one myself if I have to.” Danny grinned, making you smile. 

“Olivia will gladly help.” You smiled. “She’s been waiting to knock him out.”

“More hands make less work.” Danny laughed. A silence lulled between the two of you, his hands still resting on your calves. “Uh, do you want to get ready first or should I?” 

“Oh I will.” you withdrew your legs from his lap. “I need to wash the day off of me.” you got up, going into the bedroom and laying out tonight's dinner outfit before getting in the shower. You tried to keep events of the day out of your mind under the hot water, but it was little use. You ran through fake scenarios, all from confronting her with sharp words and splashing a complimentary mimosa in her face to having a heart to heart and clearing the air. None of the scenarios made you feel better. 

The walk down to dinner came quicker than you anticipated, there were only so many passes of your eyelashes you could do with your mascara wand, not wanting to risk annoying clumps resting on your lids. 

Danny guided you down the stairs again, and at the bottom, wrapped an arm around your waist, tucking you into his side. Looking up at him, you smiled softly as his large hand gave your hip a squeeze of reassurance. There was something about the man next to you, you knew he was doing the job you hired him for, but he exuded comfort to you. You knew as long as he was there, you wouldn’t have to worry about anything.

The meal went off without a hitch, Olivia kept you preoccupied with your maid of honor speech, Danny’s arm lounging on the back of your chair as he spoke with Thomas about a golfer they both liked keeping you warm. Maybe it was the fact that every time you looked towards Danny, you caught the image of Naomi and Gavin at the other end of the table or it was the fact you felt so relaxed, but you allowed yourself to indulge in your drinks more. 

When dinner was over, you and a few other bridesmaids had been talking excitedly as music played in the bar. Your laugh rang through it, hitting Danny’s ears and making him turn from his conversation at the bar to watching you bop to the beat that was playing while listening to your friend. The chardonnay in your glass swished with your movements, playing a dangerous game of trying to spill over the rim. 

You had happened to look away from your friend, catching Danny’s eye and grinning. He watched as you excused yourself and made your way over to him. 

“Hey lover,” you giggled, wrapping an arm around his torso, “Long time no see.” 

“Hi honey,” Danny laughed as you took a sip of your drink. He gently took the glass from your hand, setting it on the bar. Instead of fighting him, you just wrapped your other arm around him, clasping your hands behind his back and smiling up at him. Your cheeks were tinged pink from your drinking and the excitement of the previous conversation. He wrapped one of his arms around you, hand on your back as you relaxed into him. “Are you having fun?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. He watched you as you stared at him, your mouth falling open slightly. One of your hands unclasped from the other, coming around and tapping the apple of his cheek, just under his eyes. “I figured it out!”

“What did you figure out?” Danny asked, confused. Your smile widened as you batted your lashes at him. 

“Your eyes, they look like those caramel apple suckers you get at the cider mill.” your finger moved up and Danny was quick to catch your hand, pressing a kiss to the finger that was pointed up before linking your fingers together. “They’re so pretty, the caramel brown melting with the candy apple. They’re my favorites.”

“Well thank you, honey.” Danny laughed, his cheeks now turning pink.  “I’d like to keep them, though, so I’ll hold onto this.” he squeezed your hand gently. 

“Ugh, you two are gonna make me sick.” Olivia winked as she passed by. “Get a room!”

“That’s a good idea,” Danny winked back with a laugh. He looked down at you, watching you stick out your tongue at your best friend. “Wanna go get cozy?”

“Oooh yeah!” you nodded. “I’m done with this dress, and these heels.” After saying goodnight, you and Danny went back upstairs to your room. You moaned exaggeratedly after taking off your heels, making Danny laugh as you went to the bedroom, grumbling about never making your bridesmaids have fancy dinners for a week, shutting the doors and breaking off your own words. 

Danny walked over to the couch, glancing towards the doors as the light flicked on. Through the frosted glass, he could see your dark silhouette moving about the bedroom. He meant to look away, but you were posed perfectly, taking off your dress at the foot of the bed. He watched you shimmy it down your body. Danny blushed, looking away, but not being able to ignore the movement out of his peripheral vision.

Danny’s eyes traced the curves of your body, feeling something stir in his stomach as he imagined being in there with you. The sound of another hotel room door in the hallway snapped him out of it, making him jump and scold himself. Turning around, he shook his head, telling himself it was the alcohol from dinner that was making him feel a little loose. 

“I meant to say last night,” Danny called out after clearing his throat. “Your friends all seem really nice.”

“Yeah?” you called back, no longer in view of the doors when he turned around. “They’re pretty cool.” the conversation lulled for a few moments until your shadow reappeared before opening the doors, greeting him in your pajamas. Danny watched as you moved to the bed, sitting on it as he came in, grabbing his pajamas off the bed and walking into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Danny changed quickly, coming back out and fishing his phone from his dress pants pocket, plugging it into the waiting charger on his bedside table.

“I’m glad you’re getting along with them.” you smiled, setting your own on the table on your side.

“They’re fun to talk to, for sure.” Danny sat on the bed, getting comfortable. You followed suit, getting under the covers and laying on your side, facing him. 

“Tell me about your friends.” Danny smiled at your request, awkwardly reaching behind him to grab his phone off the nightstand.

“It’s easier to show you, they’re kind of hard to describe.” he laughed, unlocking his phone screen. 

“Ooh show and tell.” Grabbing your pillow, you pushed it closer to Danny's, nearly overlapping it and scooting your body closer, leaning in to see his screen. He scrolled through his photos before landing on one. 

“This is Sam, he’s my best friend,” Danny tilted his screen to show you. “He’s probably one of the smartest people I know, he got accepted into Harvard. But he chose the band over it.”

“Oh wow, that’s a big decision.” you sighed, “What does he play?” 

“Bass and piano, he dabbles in a lot, we all do.” Danny proceeded to list off the instruments they all could play, watching your eyes get wide. 

“Okay go back to your friends before I feel even more talentless.”

“Sure,” Danny laughed. He swiped a few times, then landed on a picture of him and two others. “This is Jake, he’s the guitarist in the band. He’s insane, he’s always thinking of music and always playing these wild, complicated solos. And then that’s his twin Josh, he sings, he’s got this insane range.”

“Can I hear it?” At those words Danny became nervous. What if you didn’t like the music he dedicated his life to? What if you thought Josh’s vocals were too strange or it just wasn’t your genre? What if he picked the wrong song? “Please, Danny?” you pouted up at him from where your head lay partially on his pillow. 

“Okay,” Danny exited his photos and pulled up his music app, typing in his band's name. 

“Greta Van Fleet?” your voice was soft, as if you didn’t mean for him to hear. “Oh no, I told Olivia you were a rock band, and that sounds folksy.” 

“We are a rock band,” Danny soothed your worries. “Here, this is a good one to start you off with.” You sat up as Danny leaned back on one of his arms, propping himself up and setting his phone in the small space between you on the bed. The beginning of a song titled Heat Above started playing, and Danny watched as you tilted your head curiously at the organ. 

You kept your gaze on his phone screen, listening to the song as it played. Danny’s eyes were laser focused on you, noting every twitch in your lips, watching to see if they would turn down, if your head would shake instead of nod along. He suddenly despised how long the song was, near six minutes of agony as he awaited your thoughts. 

“Oh wow,” the words slipped from your mouth softly as the first chorus hit. Danny couldn’t help but lean in slightly, exhaling a silent sigh of relief when you started to smile. “Danny, this is really good!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Nodding eagerly, you turned back to him, eyes twinkling before pointing back to the phone screen where clips from the music video played. “I don’t know that I care for that metal thing they put on your head, though. I can’t imagine that it was light or fun to wear with those curls.” 

“It wasn’t so bad.” Danny shrugged. 

“I like Jake’s puffy sleeves though.”

“Oh that’s Josh,” Danny corrected gently, making you blush. “Jake is the one with the hat.”

“I’m sorry,” you slouched down, feeling embarrassed though there wasn’t much reason to. 

“You just learned who they were five minutes ago,” Danny assured you. “As long as you don’t confuse them to their faces, they’re fine.” Something stung about that comment, making you lay back down and get under the covers. Maybe it was the alcohol still in your system, but suddenly you were tired, and didn’t want to have this conversation anymore. 

“You okay?” Danny picked up on this, taking his phone off the bed and pausing the song. You closed your eyes, turning over so your back was to him. 

“Yeah,” you answered quietly. “Just got really tired.”

“Okay,” listening as Danny got under the covers, you started to drift to sleep. Danny paused momentarily as he turned from plugging his phone back into the charger, realizing you hadn’t moved back to your side of the bed. There was still plenty of room for him to comfortably lay, but your close proximity surprised him. Once settled, he turned out the lamp, sending the room into darkness.  

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked softly into the dark. The sheets rustled a bit as you moved, though you were still placed close.

“I’m just sad,” your voice was whisper-quiet, forcing Danny to turn his head towards you.

“Why?”

“Because in a few days, we won’t know each other anymore.” you replied, mumbling lazily now you were drifting farther into slumber. “And I’m gonna miss you.” Danny’s heart fluttered at your admission. You were going to miss him. Instantly the words ‘I’ll miss you too’ were at his lips, but your even breathing told him they wouldn’t be heard. 

Danny laid awake next to you, his eyes adjusting to the dark of the room and counting the seconds to distract him. Why did it bug him so much that you would miss him? And that he would miss you too? Everything suddenly felt new to him. He’d gone on fake dates before, but it was nothing more than a night out, a dinner with long distance relatives or a work function. Never something as involved as this. 

Slipping out of bed, careful not to disturb you, Danny grabbed his phone and headed to the living room, shutting the doors quietly. Taking a seat on the edge of the couch, he opened facetime, pressing the first contact. 

“Daniel!” The young man grinned when the video call connected. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Hey Sam,” Danny felt like he could breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you’re up.” Sam rolled his eyes with a smirk.

“It’s only midnight,” he scoffed. “What’s up?”

“I need to talk to you about something.” This sobered Sam’s smile, Danny’s face was nervous, serious, and Sam began to run through every scenario he could.

“What’s going on?”

“Okay,” Danny took a deep breath. “You know how I’ve been going out on a lot of dates the past few months?”

“Yeah, you’re a real stud these days.” Sam laughed, letting his guard back down. “What about them?”

“Well, they’re not really….real.” Danny grimaced, realizing he didn’t know how exactly to explain it. Sam’s face reflected confusion and Danny continued. “So there’s this app where people can hire dates-“

“Are you telling me you’re an escort?” Sam deadpanned. Danny shook his head, rolling his eyes. 

“No, I don’t sleep with them. It’s like if they need a date to a party or something, they can hire me and I’ll stand in.” Sam’s brows furrowed as he took the explanation. “I just got tired of you guys always trying to hook me up with someone, so I thought the dates would stop it.” 

“Danny you could’ve said something,” Sam frowned. “If you’d said it was uncomfortable we would’ve stopped.” 

“I know, but I just thought this was easier.” Danny shrugged. “Anyway, you know how I’m on my vacation?”

“Yeah?”

“Well my vacation is actually a date.”

“Wait what?” Sam moved on his couch, and Danny heard the gentle sound of his dog Rose’s tags clinging together as she adjusted presumably next to him. 

“This girl asked me to be her fake boyfriend for a wedding, and I said yes.” Danny told Sam. “It’s this weekend but she’s in the bridal party and there’s a bunch of stuff, and her ex is a groomsman and she’s asleep in the other room right now.”

“So, why are you coming clean now about this?” Sam asked, watching the journey on Danny’s face. “You could’ve waited until you came back.” 

“I-“ Danny began, but stopped. Sam arched an eyebrow at his hesitancy. “She’s a great girl, she’s sweet, and she’s funny, and I think we’re becoming friends,”

“Uh huuhhh,” Sam nodded, the tug of a smirk pulling the corner of his full lips up. 

“Her ex is a dickhead, and he tried talking shit about her the first night and I could’ve knocked him out there.” Danny continued as Sam’s smirk turned into a grin.

“Is she pretty?” Sam narrowed his eyes as Danny rolled his. 

“Gorgeous.” Danny nodded. A flash of your smile as he picked you up off the ground when he saw you after golf entered his mind.

“Daniel,” Sam leaned in close to his phone's camera. “You like her.” 

“Of course I like her, we’re friends.” Danny shrugged. Sam shook his head.

“No, no,” he corrected. “You like her. Might even be falling in love with her.” 

“I am not!” Danny whispered sharply, then turned to glance over his shoulder to make sure you didn’t wake. “I’ve only known her for three days.” Sam looked indignant and shrugged. 

“Sometimes that’s all it takes.” he sighed. “Do you think she likes you?”

“I don’t know,” Danny shrugged. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. When we were going to bed, she had asked me about you all, and I showed her some pictures and I told her about you-“

“That’s where you went wrong, now she’s in love with me.” 

“Shut up,” Danny laughed softly. “But then she wanted to listen to a song, and she got Jake and Josh mixed up and then got sad.” Sam looked at Danny ludicrously. “She had a lot of wine after dinner, she’s a little tipsy.” Sam nodded in understanding. “But then when I asked if she was okay, she said that she was sad because after this week, we won’t know each other anymore, and that she’ll miss me.”

“Will you miss her?” Danny felt the words bubble up in his throat again.

“Yeah, I will.” Danny admitted, feeling a weight off his chest he didn’t realize was there. Sam stared at his best friend for a long moment, then spoke.

“Do you want my honest opinion?” he asked. 

“Always,”

“A drunken mind speaks of a sober heart.” Sam recited the old adage. “I don’t know if she feels the same as you do, but at least she said she’s going to miss you. That tells me she feels something for you.”

“What if she just sees me as a friend?” Sam shrugged at Danny’s question. 

“Then you’ve gained a new friend.” he leaned back against his couch, yawning. “Something tells me she likes you back, though.”

“What makes you say that?” Danny asked curiously. 

“You said ‘we were going to bed’. Are you in the same bed?” Sam asked nonchalantly. 

“Well, yeah.”

“Listen, I don’t know her but most women wouldn’t share a bed with a man they didn’t like if they didn't have to.” Sam answered. “Especially a stranger they only just met.”

“I don’t know,” Danny worried his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Daniel, make a move.” Sam advised. 

“We still have five days left, what if she doesn’t and everything is awkward? We have to really sell that we’ve been together for six months.” Danny sighed, leaning back. “What if it messes everything up?”

“And what if it doesn’t?” Sam questioned back. Danny groaned, knowing Sam was right. Hearing shuffling from the bedroom, he sat up again, lowering his voice. 

“I think she might be up, I gotta go.”

“Good luck, Daniel,” Sam gave his friend a little salute. “Keep me updated.”  They hung up, and Danny slowly made his way over to the bedroom doors. He didn’t hear any movement, so he gently twisted the knob of one of the doors, opening it slowly. 

The shuffling he had heard turned out to you rolling over in your sleep, head fully on his pillow now. Danny smiled at the sight of you, sound asleep on his pillow, arms encircling it. Had he stayed in bed, would that have been him? 

“Shit,” Danny sighed under his breath. He was going to have to send a text in the morning, one he knew he’d never hear the end of.

He really was falling for you.

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[mythica0]

Reddit is being stupid so I’m writing this here to link there- this is inspired by a writing prompt.

“Hey guys!” I called out to my friends-Kyle and Jane- who were sitting at the lunch table.

As usual, my *other* friends were following me. The imaginary ones. I slipped up sometimes- spoke to them in front of other people. They always called me crazy.

But that’s not important.(yet.)

“Hey Gabby!” They called out in sync, waving at me.

I sat down at the table, the dragon siblings( there are eight ,all based on an element. Can be tough to deal with.) laying next to my tray. Gaiya sat on the floor, while Harley and Dazzle elected to stand.

“Oo! Lunch time is always fun!” Ollie spoke, his mermaid-like tail flopping next to him, his wings settled on the table.

“I don’t agree. Too boring.” Fiona sneers from her spot across from him. Her tail, Fire-tipped, crackling but not alighting anything.

I tried to ignore the chatter my friends couldn’t hear.

“How are you guys?”

“We’re awesome!” Jane exclaimed ecstatically.

“Damn right we are.” Kyle replies lightly, with a smug grin on his face.

I roll my eyes and scoff. “Maybe we are. You? Not so much.”

He gasps over-dramatically. “How *dare* you!”

We all dissolve into laughter.

——————

In biology, Gaiya helps me. Her vine-like hair and antlers blocking my view as she looks at my paper. Her gentle, quiet voice is hard to hear in the loud room, but i hear it all the same.

“Oh, actually you flipped those two.” She says, gentle and non-judgmental, pointing to the diagram if environmental progression I was drawing.

I don’t know how she know things I don’t. Considering she, and all of the others, come from my imagination. But sometimes I talk to her about biology and ecosystems late into the night. Or let her talk in her soothing voice until I fall asleep.

—————

In chorus, Dazzle sings along with me. We harmonize together, her thin, ribbon like tails swaying with the music. Her voice is a little higher than mine, she a soprano and I an alto. Her glittery freckles and pink skin shine in the light through the window. She would be an excellent stage performer were she real. Her curly purple hair and bright pink skin might get in the way though.

—————

After dinner, I sit out on the porch. It’s Friday, so I can stay up as late as I want. Harley sits with me. Harley is an odd one out amongst my friends. While the rest are very colorful and bright, Harley is more dark and subdued. He has piercing green sclera, and white irises. I don’t really know what he is. He has the body of a werewolf, but he also has bat wings and a snake as a tail. I suppose he’s the manifestation of my love for Halloween.

We look up at the stars.

—————

The dragon siblings fight a lot. It makes sense, theirs eight of them. All of them are ampitheres(meaning dragons with no legs but two wings)

Ollie is the water dragon. Scarlet is the air. Ellie the lighting, Tourmaline the earth, Fiona the fire, Ivan the ice, Leviathan(or Levi) the light, and Dahlia the Dark.

“Are w-we going anywhere fun today?” Ellie asks, her stutter getting in the way of her speech.

“Maybe. Might go for a walk later.”

My mom here’s me speaking. “Are you talking to yourself again?”

I sigh. “Yes mom.”

She doesn’t see them. Only I do. It makes sense, they’re imaginary after all. (…right?)

Tourmaline flies slowly up to me, his tail weighed down by the large stone attached to it.

“I wonder what she made for breakfast.”

“Yeah, me too. Let’s go and see.”

“I’m cool with whatever. Pun intended.” Ivan flies up as well. He loved making puns about everyone’s element, but especially his own.

“Yeah! Race you down!” Scarlet said, quickly zipping away.

“No one is racing you!- and she’s gone.” Ollie replies.

“I keep telling her no one will race her because we all know she’s the fastest, but will she listen? No.” Dahlia rolls her eyes, following down the stairs.

“I hope we can find something colorful!” Levi pitches in, completely missing that the topic had moved on from what we were doing today.

I chuckle a bit. “Yeah, bud. Me too.”

————

The next day I go to the park with my friends. The real ones this time.

We have a blast together, that is until-

“Ugh, I want expecting to be in the presence of losers today.”

Great. Harold. The name of my entire existence.

He chose me and my friends as targets, I suppose. Bullies us for no reason.

“We may be losers but at least we have friends!” Kyle replies, snarky.

“Yeah. This guy is such a jerk.” Gaiya whispers next to me.

Dazzle shouts: “Oi! We may be strange but we’re also awesome! And unlike you, we have *good* opinions.”

Harold’s head perks up. “Which one of you bozos said that?! I have amazing opinions!”

I startle. He heard her?

He stares in our direction for another moment. “Who are all of you? ***What*** are all of you?”

My friends look at him, confused. Internally, I’m panicking. We’re they real this whole time? How does he see them?!

“We’re dragons!” Ollie calls. “Not that we care about you. Jerk.”

Dazzle glares at him. “Cooler than you, that’s what.”

Harely stares at him, Ears back, the snake that’s attached to him hissing. “That’s none of your business, buddy.”

“….what is going on?” Jane asks, completely befuddled.

“Your loser of a friend is surrounded by *freaks* that’s what!”

“Hey, we are not freaks…” Gaiya whispers, sounding disheartened.

“Don’t listen to him Gaiya, he’s just a jerk and an idiot.” I whisper back to her, holding her hand for a moment.

A pause. “Gabby? Is there something you’re not telling us?”

As Kyle speaks, my other friends chase Harold away. I have a feeling he won’t bother us for a while.

“…. I thought they were imaginary.” That’s the only thing I say at first. Jane prompts me to elaborate.

“I have..apparently not-so-imaginary friends. I don’t know how, but Harold just saw them. And heard them.”

“Really? Wow!” Kyle exclaims.

I whip my head up to look at him. “You believe me? You don’t think I’m nuts?”

Jane spoke this time, amusement in her voice. “I mean, we all saw what just happened, I think the evidence is there.”

“I wish you could see them…”

“Well, tell us about them!” Kyle pipes up.

“Alright! So there’s the dragon siblings, Dazzling, Harley and Gaiya….”

Maybe they would see them one day. Maybe they wouldn’t. Who knows. All I know is that *all* of them are my friends, real or ‘imaginary.’

[impossiblepluto]

I had a mean thought and did a bad thing and two hours later I "yes and"-ed myself into a sort of unfinished, fic(ish) series of words.

(Mac misses a phone call. And misses a phone call. And misses a phone call)

Mac grunts, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his face harder into his pillow. The material beneath his cheek is damp. He flops onto his back, huffing as his stiffened muscles protest the action, and rubbing a hand over his mouth. He must have been drooling.

Reaching over, he fumbles for his phone on the bedside table, squinting through the darkness and winces at the sudden light when he successfully wakes the screen. It’s early enough that the blackout curtains aren’t the only thing keeping the room dark, almost an hour before sunrise. He drops his phone on the bed beside him. 

A distinctive guitar riff blasts through speakers on the other side of the house, loud enough, surprising enough that Mac flinches at the sound. 

Everyone gives him grief for getting up early or staying up too late and making too much noise with a drill or revamping a can opener but anyone else in the house can blast music before the sun is up. And run the mixer. And… is that the blender? 

With a huff of frustration he untangles himself from his sheets and stumbles out of bed heading for the kitchen. 

Lounging with her feet hanging over the armrest of the couch, Riley sips on a smoothie. The deep purple color in her glass matches the workout gear Desi wears as she attacks the heavybag hanging in the corner of the living room.

The waffle maker beeps. Bozer flips open the lid and the waffles onto a plate. 

“Hey! Just in time, waffles are done,” Bozer says as he notices Mac standing in the doorway. 

Desi wipes her face with a towel. She ruffles a gentle hand through Mac’s hair as she passes. “You okay, sleepyhead?” She’s more affectionate now than she was when they were dating. She grabs a glass from the cupboard and pours the remainder of the smoothie from the blender. 

Mac scrubs a hand through his ruffled hair to smooth it into a semblance of order. “Fine.” He croaks and clears his throat. “Slept hard.” 

“You almost missed waffles,” Riley teases as she swings herself off the sofa, heading for the kitchen and catches her toe on the leg of the coffee table. “Ow! Oof.” 

“You okay?” Bozer rests his arms on the counter, leaning forward to peer into the living room.

“Yeah, caught my stupid toe on the stupid table,” Riley hisses and limps a few paces. “You okay, Mac?” she asks, stopping in front of him, canting her head with concern. “You kind of look like a teenager on the first day of school after summer break.” 

He gives her a small smile and rolls his eyes. It sounds like something Jack would say. 

"I was going to say I'm good, but that was before the implication that you wouldn't wake me for waffles."

"With waffles, it's every man for himself." Riley ducks around him, scooping up the plate on the counter. ----

The charging cord is draped over the bedside table, the end unattached. Mac pats the pockets of his cargo pants, coming up empty. The sweatpants he wore for sleep are bunched on the floor beside his bed, too light when he picks them up, and pockets confirmed empty when he searches. He shakes out the rumpled sheets. His phone tumbles free, bouncing on the floor and skittering under the bed, forcing Mac to chase after it with a grunt, pushing aside an old pair of boots before his fingers close around his phone and he shoves it into his pocket. 

---

On the top corner of the screen, a small icon shows he missed a call. He thumbs open the log and sees a number that while he doesn’t recognize, looks familiar. As he punches in his voicemail passcode, he rifles through his brain. An international number. Not the country code for Australia or Puerto Rico. 

He doesn’t want to hope. They don’t have plans for a check in. Mac has tried not to let that bother him. Not to take it personally or feed into what feels like a growing rift. He has still made contact occasionally. Hasn’t let it go too long between calls. 

“Hey, hoss.”

Mac’s body seizes. He can’t stop the small gasp at the familiar voice. His eyes slam shut, prickling behind closed lids. It’s him. It’s him. The greeting sluices over him like a healing balm over a raw wound. 

“Sorry I missed you. Guess it’s still pretty early over there. ‘Course you might not even be home. Sorry I missed the last few check ins. Things have been– well, you know how it can get.”

He does know. He gets it. He remembers watching the hands of his watch march on when he was supposed to give Bozer an update on his work trip to Cincinnati and wondering what kind of story he should make up this time. Hoping that Bozer will forgive him, again, for being forgetful and not calling when the plane landed. 

Being on the other side, watching the clock as it moves five minutes past their planned check in, thirty minutes, three hours, hurts. Knowing that the window of opportunity closed and not knowing when it will open again makes him angry. 

Maybe missing their call isn’t Jack’s fault and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. But isn’t this whole thing Jack’s fault? Breaking his promise, leaving and leaving Mac behind and he can’t even pick up a phone and–

“Listen, I– uh, I just wanted to talk to you. Hear your voice. I’ve missed you. Missed having you around.”

Mac’s jaw tightens. He swallows the emotions threatening to surface.

“I might need your help with something–”

Jack’s voice gets lower, softer.

“But I don’t want to do this in a message.”

Mac pushes the phone harder against his ear to hear. 

“You take care of yourself, okay, bud?” 

“You have no more new messages. To delete this message press seven.”

“No! No, Jack,” Mac growls in frustration. “Well, that wasn’t cryptic at all.” He scrolls back to the missed call log and stares at the number. The call must have come just minutes after he got up this morning. He could kick himself for not taking his phone with him when he left his bedroom. 

He debates returning the call now. Doesn’t want a mistimed ring to put Jack in danger. But Jack’s a professional and would have turned off the phone if he was heading out. Might even be a private burner phone he’s got hidden from the rest of his team so he’d definitely have that secured somewhere safe and silenced. 

Mac hits the button, beginning the call, and as predicted it goes to voicemail. 

“Hey, it’s me,” Mac begins. Jack didn’t use names so Mac doesn’t either. And even after all these years, Jack will still know Mac’s number. And his voice. “Just give me a call back. Anytime. Day or night. I– I miss you too.”

He ends the call, staring at the blinking number on the screen until it goes dark.

Why didn’t he check for a missed call this morning? He always checks. Almost paranoid about it because he never knows when he’ll get called in for a mission. And today, when it mattered, he just didn’t. Before returning the phone to his pocket he makes sure the ringer is turned all the way up and activates vibrate for good measure. He is not missing Jack’s next call. 

---

He’s in the lab with Bozer, working on Sparky, arguing about something inconsequential. Laughing at his friend’s antics. 

The laugh catches in his throat as the door to the lab opens and Matty walks in. She’s involved in all the day to day operations of the Phoenix, she knows where anyone can be located at a moment’s notice, but she doesn’t come down to the lab unless he’s forgotten his phone or there’s something important. Life changing important. And, Mac glances down at the lab table next to him, his phone is sitting right there. 

The world seems to slow, like a cinematic decision Bozer would have made for one of his movies. 

“Matty?” Mac swallows back the last of his laughter while Bozer tries to get his giggles under control. 

She runs an appraising eye over him. Studying him. 

She’s one of the few… maybe only authority figures he’s had in his life that doesn’t measure him and find him wanting. 

He hopes that’s still the case, but the longer she studies him, the more nervous he becomes, rubbing lightly at the back of his neck 

“What did you do, Mac?” Bozer whispers, shifting uncomfortably by the strength of her gaze but attempting to inject some levity. “Whatever it was, I think Mac acted alone.”

“Mac, sit down.” Her voice is as strong as it’s ever been, betraying nothing. And yet...

He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to. No one is ever told to sit down if there is good news. He drops into the chair anyway because he knows. He knows. He knows. 

“Matty?” Bozer’s voice is quiet, all teasing gone as he moves to stand just behind Mac’s shoulder. A protective move. Different from middle school when Bozer would jump in front of him and take on a bully. A supportive move. A Jack move. Offering Mac strength to lean on while he fights his own battles. 

Mac’s pulse roars in his ears. It’s not quite enough to drown out the words he doesn’t want to hear.

“There was a bomb.” 

----

Bozer takes him home. He doesn’t want to go home but he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t want to stay in the lab either. Or at The Phoenix. He follows Bozer through the halls which are miraculously empty. He doesn’t remember getting in the car. Doesn’t remember the drive from the Phoenix though he’s pretty sure he’s been staring out the window the whole time. While he knows every twist and turn of these roads, they’re unfamiliar as they flash past the window. It’s like he’s never seen them before. 

“Riley?” Mac croaks as he pulls his gaze away from the window to look at Bozer.

Bozer quickly brushes a hand over his cheeks, dashing away the wet tracks.. “Yeah, yeah, Desi is with her. Gonna bring her back to the house.”

Mac nods and turns back to the window. 

----

“He called.” The room is dark. Bozer didn’t bother with the lights on their way to the bedroom and Mac never opened the blackout curtains this morning. Even so, Mac can’t lift his gaze to meet Bozer’s. 

He doesn’t want to know what he’ll see there if he does. 

The pause lingers as though Bozer isn’t sure how to respond. 

“Jack?” Bozer finally questions gently. Carefully. 

Mac nods, not sure if Bozer can see it. 

There’s another pause. 

“When?”

Mac gives a bitter laugh. “This morning. I– I missed it. I tried calling back as soon as I saw but…” He can hear the questions that Bozer hasn’t yet voiced, unsure of what to ask or how. Of what to say that could possibly help. There’s nothing. “It was the last time I– and I missed it.” 

Mac’s chest feels tight. Like a hole with jagged edges is pushing out from his core, squeezing his lungs from the inside

Bozer tugs him forward, wrapping him in a hug so tight it feels like it will bruise. Mac buries his face against Bozer’s chest. The soft, short breaths pressing against his cheek reveal Bozer’s silent tears. 

Mac wishes his own would fall. 

----

Mac squeezes his eyes tightly shut, unwilling to face a new day. Not even allowed a second of reprieve from the twisting knot in his chest. The knowledge that Jack is gone. The sun rises on a world where Jack no longer lives. 

The pillow is damp beneath his cheek. Tears only overflowed to the surface once he slept. He pushes his face hard into the material stifling a heaving gasp that comes from somewhere so deep within his core it startles him. It’s raw and feral. Grief and anger and burbling emotions he can’t identify and doesn’t want to examine. 

His whole body aches. 

He flops onto his back, gasping for air like he’s drowning. Like there’s a hole in his chest and his life is hemorrhaging out. Only this time there is no one there to save him. No one whose fingers burn into his flesh, holding onto to life for him while it’s dripping out. No one to breathe for him when he can’t.

Jack needed him. Needed his help as much as Mac did on that beach in Italy. Reached out to him, and Mac wasn’t there. 

He flinches, violently, when a guitar riff blasts through the house. 

The blender whirs.

The scent of waffles wafts through the house.

Anger flares. 

They’re just going about their day, same as any other. 

And he understands, better than anyone, that desire, the action of shoving his emotions into a box and burying them in some deep, hidden place so he doesn’t have to acknowledge them but today. Today he can’t. Today he wants to hurt. 

He whips back his blanket, lurching from his bed, staggering through the hall. 

In the corner of the room Riley sips on a deep purple smoothie, laughing and joking as Desi attacks the heavybag hanging in the corner wearing the same monochromatic workout set she wore yesterday.

“Mac? You okay?” Bozer asks, flipping a waffle onto a plate.

“What are you doing?” 

“Breakfast,” Bozer’s voice raises with uncertainty as he holds out the plate to Mac. “Figured it’d be a good day for waffles–”

Waffles are a fix-it food, always have been.

“-- since we’re just in the lab today.”

“You’re– you’re going into work?” He figured he’d have to fight to be allowed back through the Phoenix doors again.

“Yeah, we’ve got that update we’re going to run on Sparky.” 

Mac blinks. That was– they were supposed to do that yesterday. They did do that yesterday. Or started to. Until. Are they all in denial? Somehow able to pretend it didn’t happen? 

“You okay, sleepyhead?” Desi asks as she swipes a hand through Mac’s hair as she passes. A hurt look crosses her face when he flinches. 

“I’m–” he can’t say fine. He’s not fine. It’s not her touch, or it’s not just her touch that has him flinching. His eyes narrow as he takes in the waffles on the counter. The half-finished smoothie in the blender. Something is wrong. More wrong than just waking up the morning after Jack–

“Ow! Oof,” Riley limps, hopping around the coffee table with a grimace. 

“You okay?” Bozer rests his arms on the counter, leaning forward to peer into the living room.

“Yeah, caught my stupid toe on the stupid table,” Riley hisses. She limps a few more steps, stopping in front of Mac and canting her head with concern. “Are you okay, Mac? You look like the rest of us would if we were doing algebra in our heads.”

“Yeah,” Mac says slowly. “Yeah, just… weird dream, I guess.”

It wasn’t a dream. 

Was it a dream? 

“Waffles are good for weird dreams too,” Bozer pushes the plate closer. 

“Just give me a second,” Mac says, turning toward his bedroom. “I forgot my phone.”

He can hear the concerned murmur behind him as he hurries down the hall. 

In the still dark bedroom, his fingers slip as he reaches for his phone. It hits the floor hard. Sliding beneath the bed. Mac shifts on his feet, staring at the glow emanating from under the bed’s frame. It’s not that weird. He drops his phone a lot. With a sharp exhale, Mac drops to his knees, fishing his phone out from where it landed behind a pair of boots. The screen illuminated with a time and date. 

Yesterday’s date and time.

Mac sits back on his heels, scrubbing a hand through his hair. 

Or… today’s?

It’s not the first time a dream has felt real. Not the first time he’s lived his worst fears while asleep. But this felt different. Feels different. 

Yesterday was so real. So devastatingly real. 

A small icon on the top corner catches his eye. 

He feels his pulse beat faster.

He opens the phone log. Sees the missed call. The only recent missed call. And the voicemail notification. 

This time recognizing Croatia’s country code. 

It can’t be. It doesn’t make sense. Is it some sort of cruel joke? An enemy coming to gloat. But that doesn’t explain Bozer, or Riley, or Desi. 

He swallows hard, mouth and throat suddenly dry. 

Slowly he punches in his code, leaving fingerprints against the screen, and raises the phone to his ear. 

“Hey, hoss.” 

i continue to live through my own "groundhog day" moment as I once again have not finished the time loop fic that I swear I'll have finished for next year

[fanfiction-inc]

Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go

Verse: Teen And Up Audiences

Characters/Pairings: Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson/ Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, Just pure fluff, Eddie being sweet, Morning Cuddles, Morning Kisses.

Word Count: 1495

Summary: Who doesn't want to wake up next to Eddie Munson every morning?

Notes: This is a small gift for a friend of mine who I have (corrupted) gotten into loving Eddie. This is a shoutout to you, darling! I hope you enjoy it!

Link to Ao3 Version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40375296

Thunder rumbled softly through the morning sky, the day dark and cloudy, rain hitting the window in a steady rhythm that was enough to lull anyone into a soft sleep. Your alarm blared loudly over the white noise of the storm outside, a groan leaving your lips in distaste at the shrill contrast. Fumbling and waving your hand wildly to the side, you bat at the metal clock with ringing bells, finally hitting the button to silence it and allowing the white noise to fill the dark room once more. Silence, peace, you slowly start to lull back into sleep.

“Baby…” A quiet, muffled by the pillow at your side, a voice sounded in the air. It was thickened by sleep, a beautiful contrast from the pitchy and elaborate nature it emboldened any other time.  “Y’gotta get to work.” Eddie’s words leave his mouth but are contradicted by the arm tightening around your body, pulling you in close enough that the tips of his curled, bedhead locks brushed your cheek enough to tickle. He carefully nuzzles his face against your neck, planting a sloppy, slumber-influenced peck to the flesh there and pressing his nose against the curve of your jaw. He inhales softly, humming low in his chest as he gets comfortable once more, before opening his mouth again. “Seriously…You’re gonna be late.” Another sloppy peck, his thumb rubs gentle circles on your side before he pulls away altogether and flops onto his back with a quiet grumble. He hated pulling away from your body, savoring the warmth you provided but he knew he had to let you go. You were adamant about working, about being independent and doing your own thing, even when he insisted he’d take care of you. A smile took to his lips when he sees you sit up, batting his lashes and showing those bright chocolate eyes when you look back to him. “There’s my pretty girl.” “Not so bad yourself, handsome.” You cooed gently, reaching for his hand, and bringing it to your lips. You place a gentle kiss on his knuckles, watching his face erupt in color before you pull away to get ready for the day. He always loved the way you made him feel loved, always showing him some form of affection that sent his heart to hammer and mind to scramble. You left him yearning for you when you were away and clinging to you when you were close. He didn’t know where he would be if he hadn’t met you, hadn’t asked you out and gotten to this point. You, in his room, waking up beside him and just dwelling in his space.

He loved it.

He sits up when he hears the water start, moving over to the cassette player and popping in one of the many tapes scattering his room. Music floods the trailer, making a smile rise to your features as you clean yourself. The mornings you worked always started the same. You’d wake up, lying in bed for a moment or two with him while he gets sappy, then the music would start. It was always something different each day, though the genre of the tunes generally stayed within the same wheelhouse save for the occasional new top 80s hit he knew you loved. Pop, it was rare, but he’d play it just for you because he knew you liked it. The bathroom door opened quietly, and the shower stall door was pulled open just enough to allow the man to slip into the small stall behind you, humming softly. That was the next part of the morning routine, sharing the shower with him. You turn as best as you can to face him, smiling when you see the water flattening his curled locks and making them into a long curtain of wet hair over his shoulders and chest. His tattoos stood out with the lack of clothing, and those fingers that usually adorned big, bold, and intimidating rings clutched at you, bare without the accessories. He loved these moments, seeing you wet and bare for him and him alone, waking up and watching how your eyes gradually brighten in each passing second as your body buzzes to life.

The song hanging in the air today, Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go by Wham!, fell quietly from his lips as he reached for his usual body wash and slathered it in his hands, getting to work on your body for you. It was foreign, hearing him mumble the lyrics of such a peppy, completely non-metal song, but you had liked the song when it came out in ’84 so he decided that was one of the songs he could stand. No, he’d never admit how catchy it was, or how it got stuck in his head and reminded him of you, but he’d hum it for you as he worked the soap over your body because he knew you liked it and that was all he cared about. “Eddie!” You squeal and giggle when he grips at your curves and sways you to the music when the chorus starts, loudly calling out the words.

“Wake me up before you go-go

'Cause I'm not planning on going solo

Wake me up before you go-go

Take me dancing tonight

I wanna hit that high”

He tries to hit the high note, making you laugh even harder when his voice cracks and he goes a little red in the cheeks from strain. He was always so goofy, so loving, and he always started your day with a smile. To see Eddie “The Freak” Munson like this, singing Wham! To his girlfriend and swaying in the shower stall with her, it was a sight to behold. He wasn’t some devil worshiper, wasn’t going to sacrifice some innocent virgin to the Devil or curse someone, that all was to blame on the Satanic Panic of the time. No, he was the sweetest individual you’d have ever met, and it showed in the things he did for you. “Eddie, you’re so fucking silly.” You laugh the words out as he continues the song, humming softly when he gets you back under the water to finish getting the soap off your form. He had to admit, having you walk around smelling like him was such an ego booster. Knowing he had basically marked you, it made having you stay over so much more worth it.

“Oh, I’m the silly one, sweetheart?” He chimed after a moment, moving his warm hands to your cheeks, and holding your face still. “Would a silly person do this?” He plants kiss upon kiss all over your face, making you squirm and try to get away from the onslaught in the small shower stall. He doesn’t relent until he deems your face properly coated in his kisses, smirking at his handiwork telling by the blush flooding your cheeks and the swooning smile lingering on your lips. Eddie pulls away to allow you both to finish your showers, following you like a puppy to his room and watching as you put layer upon layer upon your body. Clothing, he deemed, was sinful and a terrible invention. It hid you so well, and he loathed the person who invented them. There you stood, proud and ready in your work uniform, and he hated this next part, hated how you had to rush to grab your things. The jingle of your car keys, the way your eyes dimmed just like the raging storm clouds outside. He hated seeing you leave, even if he knew you’d be coming back to him once your shift was done.

He wraps his arms around you one more time, leaving a lingering kiss on your lips that tried to entice you- no, beg you to stay with him. To not go into work and just spend the day curled in against his side, sharing a joint and listening to kickass music. He just wanted to be with you, but your lips pulling away (although reluctantly) reminded him that you had to go, you had to do this. “I’ll be back before you know it, Eddie.” You promise, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “Good luck with work, princess.” A grin met his lips when he hears the noise leaving your throat in reaction, hands shooting up to try and hide the color blossoming on your cheeks. It was a near-violent reaction each time he used the pet name, and he simply loved seeing it. “Dammit, Eddie!” You squeak, slapping his arm and making him chuckle before calming yourself down enough to head out the door. He stands behind the storm door, watching you make a mad dash to your car in an attempt to try and not get soaked, waving as you pull away from his uncle’s trailer and take off for work. He missed you already, but he knew you’d be back.

You always come back to him.

[dancingazaleas]

zeke yeager | pta meeting

i literally don’t know how to shut up about him

also this is all because i saw a drabble of dilf!zeke and it’s been on my mind nonstop

warnings/notes: dilf!zeke, fem!reader, cursing, eventual smut, zeke is a divorced/widowed dad(at 33), reader is 21, cursing, zeke has a mean daughter and a sweet daughter, breeding kink, overstimulation, brief choking, slight degradation, shit one shot i’m sorry

you swear to the lord that zeke’s 11 year old daughter is a menace to society.

she’s brutally honest, just like zeke, and mean. she’s oddly mature for her age, and you think it might have something to do with her late mother. she looks almost nothing like zeke, but she certainly inherited her personality from him. she’s got curly dark brown hair that ends at her armpits and zeke’s grey eyes. she has a button nose along with rosy cheeks, something else she inherited from her mother.

“y’know my daddy only dates you cause you take care of me and aloisia,” isolde says to you as she slips on her school shoes.

you feel your eye twitch as you turn to zeke’s other daughter, aloisia, who’s seven and looks exactly like zeke. she’s got his nose, his hair color, and even eye shape. she’s got hazel eyes and a slim face. she’s as bubbly as they come, always greeting people she passes by on the street, always making friends at the park.

“i’m ready,” she holds up her small hand to you, a silent request for you to hold her hand.

“same,” isolde stands up after she swings her back pack onto her back, brushing off the nonexistent dirt on her navy blue skirt.

“zeke, the girls are ready!!” you shout out, taking aloisia into your arms.

zeke comes stumbling out of his bedroom, a white sleep shirt covering his torso and grey sweatpants.

“you’re going in that,” you raise an eyebrow at his attire, “we’re going to a parent-teacher meeting, not the gym.”

“yeah daddy, my teachers are gonna think you’re a bum or something,” isolde snickers.

“i’ll help your dad, go watch tv for a little bit longer,” you chuckle at zeke’s pout and put down aloisia, who runs to the couch.

isolde takes off her backpack and joins her sister on the couch, putting her feet on the coffee table as aloisia puts on avatar: the last airbender.

“i thought the dress code was casual,” zeke furrows his brows as you take his hand and lead him back into his bedroom.

“it is. sweatpants are not casual, they’re lounge wear,” you snicker as he flops onto the bed while you close the door and go into the closet.

you know zeke’s rolling his eyes at you, judging from his silence. you grab ahold of a white button up with light grey vertical stripes on it, trying to picture your boyfriend in the shirt. you shake your head and put it back on the rack, deciding that the default outfit would be best for now. you take a white button up off the hanger and grab a pair of black dress pants from his dresser. you hand him a pair of black loafers to go along with it and some long black socks that would cover up his ankles, you’re so glad you reminded him that they exist. you throw a black belt next to him as well.

“this is boring.”

“zeke, this is a pta meeting, the whole thing will be boring,” you watch him rid himself of his shirt.

“should i wear a tie?”

“no, you’ll look better with one button undone,” you smile as he struggles to balance correctly when he puts on his pants.

he tucks the shirt inside his pants and slips on the belt with ease. he unbuttons a button before he slips on his socks.

“i thought today was my day off,” he smirks at you while you roll up his cuffs a bit.

you roll your eyes and he slips on his shoes. he doesn’t need to do his hair, it’s just effortlessly neat.

“time to go,” you scurry to the front door with the girls following behind you.

“he doesn’t look homeless anymore,” isolde notes when zeke follows you all out of the door.

“not funny,” he huffs while he locks the door behind him and the girls get into the black SUV zeke drives.

you help aloisia buckle herself up in the car seat and then slip into the passenger’s seat next to zeke. he’s grumbling something about ‘uncle eren’ and ‘getting the girls’ as he turns the car on.

————

you try to ignore the women ogling zeke as you all walk down the school hallway. you send isolde off to her class since her meeting is after aloisia’s.

“i hope you’ve been good,” you say to aloisia, who’s holding both your’s and zeke’s hands.

“i have! ms greene says i’m one of the best,” she gloats, and you hope for zeke’s sake that ms greene isn’t bluffing.

you three walk into the second grade classroom, which is empty because you reserved the appointment, only to find the teacher isn’t in there. it only seems to make aloisia more excited as she tugs you and zeke towards the class wall with a bunch of pictures of it.

“look, look!!” she jumps as she points at her’s, “they said to draw our family and she said i did a good job!!”

the picture is a messily drawn family portrait of zeke, isolde, and aloisia.

“you drew (name) very pretty,” zeke smiles at you when you snap your head back to look at the picture in closer detail.

there you are, stick figure holding hands with zeke’s and aloisia with isolde on zeke’s other side. you never expected to be on aloisia’s family portrait, you’d barely been in her life for two years and weren’t exactly motherly. you’re a struggling college student that she occasionally sees crying at the kitchen table with zeke comforting you from behind. she, on very rare occasions, sees you come home, absolutely plastered, with a sober zeke leading you to his room. you’re the woman that wakes her up when you cry on the couch late at night. you were, admittedly, okay with not being seen as their mom.

it wasn’t your place, for so many reasons. one, you didn’t exactly act as a role model. two, you could never replace her mother and would never try. three, zeke never referred to you as such. you’d only ever act like their mother whenever you were in certain situations. but that didn’t mean you didn’t want them to see you as a maternal figure.

it made you want to cry, but luckily you didn’t. you just smile at the picture and pat aloisia’s head in approval.

“you did do a very good job,” you smile down at her and before you can give her a hug, you notice a woman walking into the room.

“oh, you must be zeke yeager, aloisia’s dad! i’m ms greene,” her face flushes while she holds out her hand for him to shake.

“yea, that’s me. it’s nice to meet you,” he shakes her hand.

she turns to you, “oh my goodness, i didn’t know aloisia and isolde had an older sister!”

“no, she’s my girlfriend of two years,” zeke chuckles uncomfortably.

“i’m (name), nice to meet you,” you wave your hand, “i’m just here to keep an eye on aloisia while you two talk.”

zeke and her go to a table in the corner of the room and aloisia drags you towards a bookshelf.

thirty minutes of aloisia rambling about her favorite book go by seemingly quick, and you watch as she cheers when her classmates walk into the room. zeke’s walking towards you, holding a thumbs up with a cocky smile, for whatever reason.

you kiss aloisia goodbye, who doesn’t seem too fazed, and head towards isolde’s classroom. you hold hands with zeke while swinging them back and forth while he repeats everything the teacher’s said to him.

“i can’t believe my little girl’s at a third grade reading level,” he exclaims, “that vocabulary studying did wonders!!”

“you should thank me since i was the one who studied with her cause she asked about my assignments for class,” you taunt and laugh when zeke pulls you closer by the shoulder.

that’s how the two of you walk into isolde’s classroom. she’s sitting at a table with her teacher, miss dunst, and fidgeting with her thumbs anxiously. she’s covering half of her face with her hair. with the one eye you can see it looks puffy and her cheeks are red, as if she’d been crying.

it has both you and zeke rushing to sit down on both side of her, zeke asking miss dunst what happened while you tend to isolde.

“hey, why are you crying,” you’re squatting by her chair and you reach to brush the hair out of her face.

when you see her other eye, you gasp out at the black eye starting to form on her eye.

“oh my god, zeke, look at her face!!”

“that is what i wanted to speak about with you. isolde has been getting bullied by some of her classmates. today, a little girl hit her after isolde defended herself while they argued,” the poor woman looks sad watching you and zeke check isolde for more wounds.

“why has she been bullied? she’s not mentioned this to me or (name),” zeke asks while examining her eye more closely.

“well, during the first day of school, isolde introduced herself and told the class about her family. she mentioned you, mr yeager, and her sister. the kids asked about her mother before i could stop them and she was honest with them and said that she had passed. she then said that she still, in a way, had a mother. your girlfriend, mr yeager.

“i asked her occupation, to which isolde said a college student. the kids got loud but i managed to quiet them down, and i thought it was the end of that. after that, her classmates started to pick on her verbally about your age gap and her late mother. i didn’t find out about it until this morning when isolde was hit,” miss dunst frowns as she explains.

before zeke could open his mouth, you speak up, “i’m the girlfriend, (name). i am hoping that these children will be punished accordingly and that their parents be notified. if this has really been going on all year like you say, then at this point their parents should be involved.”

“of course! i’m giving all of their parents a call after classes today. the little girl who hit her is sitting down with the principal right now, so she should be safe if you two would like her to stay at school.”

“give us a moment,” you smile kindly, which she returns, and walks to her desk to give you ‘privacy’.

“isolde, why didn’t you tell your daddy or i about what was going on,” you ask while she hugs zeke.

she peeks her head out of his chest, “didn’t want to seem weak.”

“why would you be worried about that,” zeke asks.

“after mom died, you were always so sad and stressed. i thought that if i was strong, you would be happier,” she explains shakily.

“isolde, look at me,” you put a hand on her knee, “you were six years old when your mommy died. six year olds shouldn’t know how to accurately take care of themselves, it’s why your daddy was there. i’m sure your daddy appreciated the effort, but i promise you that all he wanted you to be was his happy little girl. you don’t need to be strong at 11 years old, and you don’t need to be strong all the time. like you said, your daddy was sad when your mom died. it didn’t make him weak, it made him a person. and that’s what you are; a person. a little person.”

she sniffles and nods at you, “people can’t do everything by themselves. i’m sorry if we made it feel like you couldn’t tell us, and it’s totally understandable that you felt that way.”

zeke hums in agreement, “we love you, baby. so much.”

“love you too,” she mumbles with a small smile.

“do you want to stay at school,” zeke asks, he didn’t want to force her into a situation where she didn’t want to be.

“i have a math test later, don’t wanna miss it,” she sighs, now looking up at you.

“(name)...?”

you tilt your head while you wait for her answer.

“i’m sorry i’ve been so mean to you. everyone was making fun of me and called it weird, so i guess i wanted to believe that too,” your heart warms whenever she looks away shyly.

great, now zeke’s horny from seeing you act motherly.

————

ever since you and zeke had stepped off school campus, one of his hands was always touching you. it didn’t matter where, zeke was shameless.

even as you unlock the door to the his house, he has his chest pressed against your back and his arms wrapped around your waist. his lips are kissing softly at your neck and his hands are shamelessly groping at your boobs.

“zeke, what is up with you,” you laugh whenever you open the door, kicking off your shoes immediately.

“horny,” he admits, swiftly following after you and locking the door behind himself.

“what about this morning made you horny,” you ask shyly while you sit on the couch.

zeke’s buttons are halfway undone and his belt is somewhere on the floor. he squeezes in behind you, once again pressing his chest against your back.

“acting maternal, i guess,” his beard tickles the back of your neck as he kisses it.

“is this why you told isolde it was okay if she wanted to stay at school,” you snicker at his fingers pulling your shirt over your head.

“why else,” he scoffs, “my only day off in a while and i’m horny. sounds like a deal.”

you whimper whenever he starts biting at your neck and when his large hands slip under your bra.

“zeke, if we’re gonna do it on the couch, can i at least lay on my back,” you ask while zeke unclips your bra.

without a word, he’s thrown you onto the couch on your back and climbing on top of you seconds later. your hands quickly unbutton the rest of his shirt, pushing it halfway off of his body.

zeke throws the shirt onto the floor and kisses you, hands running up and down your torso. he pulls away to kiss and suck at your neck while his hands grope at your tits. you’re stuck between laughing and moaning at zeke’s beard dragging against your neck.

his mouth trails down to your tits, mouth attaching to your left tit while he continues to grope your right one. you let out a moan whenever he tweaks your nipple with his right hand and bites softly at your left nipple.

he pulls away from your chest, tugging off your pants and panties in frustration. it leaves you laughing and assisting him. whenever your pants do come off, he throws them to the ground and spreads your legs.

“zeke, they’re not opening too far, we’re on a couch,” you note, but soon stand corrected as zeke grabs your ankle and puts it on the back of the couch.

“nevermind,” you snicker at his cocky smirk, as if he’d done something amazing.

your other leg hangs off the couch, leaving you spread open for zeke. zeke spreads open your glistening folds with thumbs and gives a mindful lick up to your clit. after realizing that his beard is not rubbing against you uncomfortably, he dives in like it’s a pool, which he thinks it is because of how wet you are.

his mouth his sucking on your clit vigorously, as if he were a man starved. you’re moaning wantonly as he suddenly ups the speed. how did he even go that fast, you have no clue, but either way you enjoy it. your back in arching off of the couch and your toes are curling as zeke starts bringing you closer to an orgasm.

“zeke!! i’m... i’m gonna come,” you tug at his hair as your legs start to convulse and close around his head.

he only goes faster, and you wonder to yourself if zeke is powered by batteries or something. but the thought is quickly shut off whenever you finally orgasm, moaning out in ecstasy and throwing your head back against the couch cushions.

zeke slows down his pace, helping you ride through your orgasm. he pulls away whenever you’ve calmed down, fingers immediately pressing at your tight entrance.

“zeke... i-i’m too sensitive,” your complaint goes ignored as two of zeke’s fingers are suddenly inside of you.

“don’t care, deal with it,” he huffs as his fingers stretch you out.

with his other hand, his thumb is rubbing at your puffy clit at the same time of his fingers curling inside of you. your hips buck up with a mewl and zeke chuckles at the sight. unlike last time, he’s moving his tantalizingly slow.

his fingers curl once more, rubbing against the spongy part inside of you sweetly. you buck your hips up again at the contact and curl your toes whenever zeke starts abusing that spot with overwhelming speed. curling his fingers against the spot each time he pistons his fingers in and out of you.

“zeke!!” you come again while moaning his name and he can feel his cock twitch in his pants.

zeke chuckles when he pulls his fingers out, spreading them apart to watch your juices stick together in strings. he plops the fingers in his own mouth, rubbing his other hand up and down your quivering thigh as he pulls away from your sloppy cunt.

he pulls his fingers out of his mouth with an obnoxious ‘pop’ and pulls off his pants and boxers at the same time. he groans at his cock hitting against his lower stomach.

you stare at zeke’s cock. the tip is flushed with a bashful pink and his hair is trimmed nicely against his groin. he’s more girth than he is length, a whopping 6.5 inches, which is something he absolutely gets arrogant about.

“hurry,” you huff while watching zeke fist his cock.

“nah, you gotta beg for it, baby,” the corner of his mouth tugs upwards as he watches you wipe away your tears from the previous orgasm.

“zeke,” you whine and wiggle your hips, “please please please give me your cock. need it so bad.”

he hums thoughtfully, and it already gives you his answer.

“please... i want it so bad, need to be fucked by you,” you pout but perk up at his dismissive shrugging.

“since you want it so bad,” he’s laughing while he puts his right hand on your pelvis and his other on his shaft to enter you.

you gasp at the feeling of him pushing inside of you, grabbing for his, now, free hand. when you catch his hand, you guide it to your bruised neck for him to grasp on. he’s chuckling once again, fingers lightly squeezing against your throat as he continues to push himself in.

he groans whenever he bottoms out, letting go of your neck to grab at your plush thighs. he pushes the towards your chest and thrusts into you shallowly after he spits on his cock buried in your pussy. he hits you deeper than he would’ve before, that much is obvious by your moans raising octaves when he starts to thrust roughly.

your hands reach up to grab the back of his thighs to pull him closer to you than before. he’s groaning at the feeling of your pussy squeezing onto him each time he pulls out and thrusts back into you.

“fuck... zeke!!” you cry and throat your head back.

“fuck,” he grunts, “you’re so fuckin’ tight. even after how much i fuck this pretty little cunt each week.”

his words make you whimper and squeeze your grip on his thighs, making crescent moons into the skin.

“i’m gonna come... i’m gonna come again,” you pant out, back already starting to arch, “come with me please..!”

he speeds up his thrusts, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass getting increasingly louder as he does so.

“you wanna come with me so badly,” he asks tauntingly while you nod.

“god, zeke, please,” you try to ignore the saliva and tears on your face as you continue to scream out for zeke.

“i’ll give my sweet girl my cum since she asked so nicely,” he’s biting his lip whenever he feels his orgasm getting closer.

“yes! yes! please,” you sound so desperate as your orgasm gets closer, “zeke, please, fuck a baby into me, please..!”

zeke almost comes right then at your pleas, but ends up stilling and adjusting his stance to thrust into you more efficiently. the sudden stop makes you whine but it’s soon interrupted with a gasp as he jackhammers into you harder and faster than before.

“fuckin’ whore, wanting me to fuck a baby into you. to make you a mom. since you asked so nicely, i’ll oblige,” he berates.

“you me to fuck a baby into you? make you a mom?” it has you nodding frantically.

zeke continues to degrade you as you’re orgasm comes rushing towards you, fingers now clawing at his thighs as a signal.

zeke thrusts into you two more times before the two of you manage to orgasm simultaneously. his jackhammering slows into a grind, helping the two of you ride out the euphoria you’ve both just went through.

you whimper whenever he pulls out, uncomfortable at the sudden emptiness in you. he watches his cum start to dribble out of you, telling you to keep your legs up. he scurries off to find a paper towel or something to wipe it up with before it falls onto the couch. you shiver whenever you feel a wet cloth wipe away the dribbling cum.

he’s wiping down your chest and neck as well with a clean side of it after you put your legs down. he carries you off into his bathroom, sitting you on the counter while he readies the shower.

“i can’t believe you said that,” he raises a questioning eyebrow at you while he checks the water’s temperature.

“i wouldn’t mind having your kid,” you shrug and watch him put two towels on the counter next to you.

“i might just give you one, don’t say that,” he jokes as he starts to hug you.

“‘m okay with that,” you sigh and lean into his touch, enjoying his warmth.

“you’re stupid,” he snorts and kisses at your shoulder.

“only for you,” you snuggle your head into his neck with a giggle.

“i love you,” he sighs.

“i love you. enough to have your kids.”

maybe in a few hours when you weren’t bathing in the afterglow, zeke would bring it up to you.

[chifuyuzu]

leap of faith — sano manjiro x reader.

word count — 1.3k.

genre — fluff fluff fluff, i love sweet mikey.

contains — cursing, timeskip SPOILERS present, reader is gender neutral.

description — sano manjiro is in love with you, and he realizes how much he loves you at the ass crack of fuckin' dawn.

author's note — hey besties, this is my first published fic here, kinda short but mikey brain rot is heavy. i hope you enjoy this cute fic before i rip your hearts out with some angst in a few days :^) reblogs and likes are always appreciated! and please give me feedback in my inbox! hehe, enjoy.

“it’s late.”

you know. but you still wanted to hear the sound of his voice before bed.

“mm… i missed ya’, is that a crime?” your voice echos through the receiver, the sound of your duvet crinkling in the background as you shift in place. sano manjiro was a busy man. always has been, always will be. being the leader of a biker gang was never easy—let alone some “new age” criminal organization.

you didn’t understand why manjiro persisted to play this game of russian roulette with his life. but it was never your place to overstep, especially since this was his life. it was all he knew, all he understood. you’re not sure what he’s doing, or if he’s even allowed to talk on the phone at this hour, but you still wanted to hear him. just so you know he’s alive and well.

you hear him chuckle, the sound of his feet scurrying against whatever floor his sandals were clacking against. the background noise that accompanied him earlier has dissipated; you realized he probably went outside to hear you better.

“your crime is loving a fool like me way too much. don’t think you’re sane.” he’s right. you’re actually crazy for even pursuing him. there was a lot of push and shove in the beginning, both parties scared of being hurt and getting hurt. but you were always there, even when manjiro went through whatever darkness was eating at his soul.

“crazy for you.”

“corny.”

“you love me.”

a pause. eerie enough to send shivers down your spine. why wasn’t he responding? did something happen? did you smother him too much? is he regretting—

“marry me.”

… not what you were expecting. especially not over the phone.

“sano manjiro, did you just propose over the phone? what kind of shitty rom-com are we in?”

“is that a no?”

“... never said that.” you wanted to marry him. but you wanted him to put that lifestyle behind, for the sake of the family you might have in the future. kids, dogs, cats, etcetera. you wanted him to be in, one hundred percent. but you knew he was too deep into this world to run now—especially since he’s so well-known as the ‘invincible mikey.’ you still longed for a happy home with manjiro, and a normal life.

“maybe you’re right. it’s not my style to ask you this over the phone.”

“try again later. when you’re really ready.”

the gag is, he is ready.

manjiro hurries home, blond locks hidden underneath a thin, black hoodie. he’s shaking, like a pomeranian in the presence of fireworks. his hand meets the left side of his chest, back pressed up against the grey colored wall of your shared apartment as he slides down to sit on the floor. it was four in the morning, and manjiro was about to shit himself.

he gulps, eyes peering around for you, double checking that you were fast asleep before he makes a phone call. his fingers tapped the back of his iphone, impatiently waiting for the other caller to answer. though it was the crack of dawn, he still needed some moral support.

“mikey? fuck you callin’ for at this hour? haven’t heard from you in mo—”

“ken-chin. i’m proposing.”

a loud ‘flop’ rang through the receiver, accompanied by the bedsheets seemingly slipping underneath draken’s feet. it was a huge bomb to drop, especially when the duo has been separated for months on end. manjiro hears more shuffling, followed by a few curses. “you’re fucking lying. the one you’ve been one since—?”

“yeah. i’m crazy as hell. but i love them. head over heels. i’m a goddamn simp.”

“why the hell am i the first to know, man?”

“you’re m’best friend, even if i need to stay away from you. and, also… you’re not the first to know. i asked them already.”

“you WHAT? don’t fuckin’ tell me you did it some dumb way like over the pho— you did. you’re impulsive enough to do it like that, too.” regardless of how long it’s been, draken still knows and understands manjiro like nothing ever happened.

“yeah… not romantic. but i can’t see myself with anyone else. i trust no one else. but i… am…”

“scared? man, you’re the head of a criminal organization. ‘course you’re scared. you don’t want the love of your life… to get hurt…” his voice trails off and manjiro’s heart tenses even more. the memories of the past still felt fresh. all the people they lost in tokyo manji… could never be replaced. not in a million years.

but the living must live.

“i love y/n. never felt like this before. i’d quit everything. but i would have to make sure they’re safe and whatever future we have together is secure. i know i promised takemichi that i’d protect everyone and that future he worked so hard to save… but what about mine?”

manjiro really did sacrifice everything for his friends. being the type of person who carries everyone else’s burdens takes a toll on his mental. he felt selfish for wanting to leave it all behind. but maybe being selfish was beneficial once in a while.

“listen—”

“do you think i’m stupid?”

“mikey. you’re not stupid,” draken sighs, shuffling again in place. “you just want to love someone and be loved in return. nothin’ stupid about that. what is stupid though, is you proposing over the damn phone.”

he’s not wrong. it was a spur of the moment decision that could drastically change his life forever. but with you, he doesn’t care. as long as you’re his, forever.

“how do you think i should do it?”

“well. i guess, tell me some sappy shit. how do you feel about them, and whatnot.”

“i don’t think i could ever imagine me with anyone else. a lot of people have tried to grab my attention but i only have eyes for y/n. sometimes when shit gets real hard…” manjiro takes a deep sigh, fingers threading through his hair, tilting back the hood to let it fall onto his back. “i think of y/n and i remember that even in this shit world, someone is here for me. someone cares about me. they make me feel like i’m not alone anymore.

i have dreams ‘bout us, y’know? me and y/n… kids running around. a little mikey clone. pissin’ them off because we want little flags on our meals. going to the park and letting kids be kids. maybe i’ll teach ‘em at a dojo like gramps did for me and my siblings. maybe i’ll teach ‘em about bikes—with your help, of course.”

draken laughs, letting his friend continue his little speech as he gets comfortable in bed again. don’t think i’ve ever seen mikey like this, ever, draken muses.

“man, we can own a whole zoo if we wanted. chifuyu could hook us up, in secret, of course. still have to protect everyone,” manjiro is grinning from ear to ear, head resting against the wall. “i wanna grow old with them. honestly, i didn’t think i’d make it to my twenties. more so, i didn’t want to live past twenty-something. but now… things are different. wanna be old and gray. see grandkids terrorize our children. die together.”

the tension in manjiro’s chest has faded away, only left with warmth that only you could bring him. his free hand reaches into his pocket to fumble with a small box, snapping it open to reveal the engagement ring his grandfather handed down to him.

he wasn’t the marrying type. but for you, he was.

“that all? you sound good like that, man. make an exception and let us come to the wedding.”

manjiro wants that more than anything. his friends, you... all safe. all happy. but again, the fear creeps up. he doesn’t know what to do with himself if any of you get hurt.

“... how do i tell y/n that?”

“you already have.” your voice makes him jump, knocking the velvet box out of his fingers and onto the hardwood floor. his face pales, followed by a huge lump forming at his throat when he sees your figure emerge from your shared bedroom.

“i-uh… i thought you were a-asleep.” manjiro mumbles, earning a huge laugh from draken on the other side. he hears him say something along the lines of ‘my cue to leave. good luck. send me an invite.’

“i was waiting for you.” 

he’s sweating now, a small bead forming at the base of his neck. his phone is now at his side, the screen flashing from draken’s caller id to the lockscreen photo of you on your first date together, a few years back. your eyes zone into the box, though.

“i was going to do this… better. god, i fucked up, huh?”

you’re laughing now, rubbing your tired eyes before you join him near the wall, picking up the box. “what makes you think that, dummy?”

now he’s confused. you wanted him to ask when he was serious, but in his head, serious meant rose petals, candles, someone singing celine dion in the distance.

without a word, you slip the ring onto its appropriate finger, holding up to the small rays of sunlight that peaked through the window from the approaching sunrise. manjiro’s hands fly up to your face, holding his whole world in his hands. his eyes are shiny, on the brink of tears. you nudge your noses together, foreheads connecting tenderly. your hands hooked onto the hem of his hoodie, bringing his frame closer as you whisper a soft ‘yes.’

“yes?”

“yes, i’ll marry you.”

manjiro’s lips curl up into the silliest grin you’ve ever seen him sport, before he presses a soft kiss to your lips. now he’s kissing you quite desperately. as if he’s trying to make sure you’re real, that this isn’t a dream. you feel his words vibrate against your lips, “gonna make you so happy, i promise. i love you. i love you so, so much.”

“forevermore.”

“forever yours.”

[kaijudyke]

Sorry to snoop through your talk tag but DGHDA/GF CROSSOVER FIC???? I hope you make that publicly available because I’ve been gripped with the desire to read this immediately

i will certainly make it publicly available if and when i can actually manage to finish it, but it's been giving me trouble for years! i just can't figure out how to wrap it up. i would love to be able to post it, though, bc it really is one of my favorite things i've ever written... i've rarely had as much fun writing anything as i did writing dirk talking to mabel. actually you know what here's that scene just for you

They followed the hallway where it turned right just up ahead. Another almost immediate right turn through a doorless arch landed them in a smallish living room, the most notable feature of which was what looked to be a dinosaur skull in place of a coffee table, with an old banjo leaning against it. A girl with thick, curly brown hair sprawled on the couch, her legs in the lap of the slim and elegant blonde next to her. They both looked to be in their late teens. The brunette looked up at them; spotting Dirk, she grinned and sat up. “I love your color scheme,” she all but shrieked, regarding his yellow leather jacket with approval. “You look like a baby duck!” “Thank you!” Dirk said with a smile. He was pretty sure that was flattering. Behind him, Todd snorted. The blond girl looked a bit more skeptical than her companion. “Do you know them, Mabel?” she asked under her breath. The girl—Mabel—shook her head, curls bouncing. “Never seen them before in my life,” she said. “Oh, duh! Sorry!” She took the blonde’s face in both hands and planted a big kiss on her cheek, and then sprung to her feet, bounding towards Dirk. “I’m Mabel!” she said. “Nice to meet you! That’s Pacifica—she’s my girlfriend, yes, I know, she’s a catch—and she’s probably not gonna introduce herself ‘cause she was raised by weird snobs, but I promise she’s still great.” Pacifica blushed, looking away. She looked exasperated but fond. It was an expression Dirk had seen quite a lot of since meeting Todd Brotzman. “Hi, Mabel,” Dirk said with a grin. “I’m Dirk. This is Todd; he’s my boyfriend. He might not introduce himself to you either. There’s nothing wrong with his parents to my knowledge, he’s just got this thing where he likes to pretend he doesn’t care about anything in the whole world.” Todd gave him a light shove. Ah yes, there was that expression now. Mabel laughed. “What are you doing here?” she asked. She wrinkled her nose and looked at Stan. “I know there’s not a gay British man in a colorful jacket here to see you, Grunkle Stan, so what is it?” “He’s here for Ford,” Stan said, taking a cursory look around the room. “Any idea where he is?�� Mabel rolled her eyes. “He’s upstairs playing DD&MD with the other nerds. They’ve been going for hours. I’m pretty sure Dipper stayed up all night planning for it.” Stan barked out a laugh. “Guess we gotta go up there and save 'em from themselves!” He started toward the stairs just outside in the hallway; Dirk and Todd followed close behind. As they turned the corner, Dirk could see Mabel flop back onto the couch and wrap herself around Pacifica like a particularly clingy octopus.

i really do hope to finish it someday! i'm just... not exactly sure when. or how.

[rebeccccccaaa]

𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎

__________________________

𝙱𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

(𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍) tieddown-withbattleshipchains said:

Hey Dear ❤️ May I ask for a Bucky Barnes imagine where he is your ex-boyfriend but you meet again sometime randomly in New York. So you end up spending the evening together and just talk about everything. Later he walks you home but you ask him to join you, which leads to a night full of love making. In the morning he makes breakfast in bed for you and asks you for a second chance? 😊 Maybe his POV too if you want to :)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: smut 18+; it’s kinda vanilla but like pretty passionate? Slight hair pulling, cockwarming, but like that’s it, tiny bit of angst blink and you’ll miss it, major fluff (the holy trinity)

𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎: thanks for the request bug!! I love this idea :) ps i had tons of requests so i’ll be posting daily for a bit to get them out asap! thanks for y’alls patience :) ______________________________________

“Y/n?” 

You turned your head to the voice. Your eyes met the familiar ocean blueone  you spent so many hours staring into. Your face held a surprised looked before smiling softly at the handsome man you once were so in love with long ago. 

“Buck, is that you?”

He looked so different. His hair was short; he had scruff speckled with gray hairs all over his jaw, his arm wasn’t that familiar silver vibranium you often thought about, but he doesn’t need to know that. Not now especially. 

“Yeah. How are you? You look great.”

“Thank you. You too. You’ve changed, a lot. That’s not a bad thing though-”

“I got it,” he laughed. 

“Sorry,” you laughed, shaking your head before looking back at him.

“Care for a drink?” you asked him.

You two spent hours laughing and telling stories from the time you two have been apart. It was almost like you two never even broke up. You had to remind yourself that whenever Bucky would lay a hand on your hand in a fit of laughter, or on your thigh. But you couldn’t help it, he was so contagious. 

“Well, it’s getting really late I should head home,” you said standing up. You left a big tip for your waiter and tender because it was almost one in the morning and the place was supposed to close at midnight. 

“Let me walk you. You far?” he said standing with you. 

“Oh you don’t have to.”

“Come on. For old times sake.”

His goddamn gorgeous smile. How could you say no to that?

“I guess that wouldn’t be so bad.”

You two walked side by sided in the darkness. You felt safe beside him. You felt comfortable, like you always by his side. Soft illumination from the colorful neon signs lit up the street you were walking down. 

Your apartment wasn’t far, so you two walked for about 10 minutes. Cars were still busy in the early hours of the New York night and people still walked hurriedly up and down the street. But being beside Buck again after all that time apart, it felt like it was just the two of you.

“Well, this is me,” you said walking up the stairs to your front door.

“Are you gonna be ok?” you asked him.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he said. 

There was a pause between you and you didn’t want him to go just yet. 

“Hey, do you wanna come inside? You know, before we part ways again.”

“I’d love that.”

He stepped inside and took in your surroundings. Your apartment looked practically the same from when Bucky was last there. He regrets leaving you the way he did. 

“Do you want anything to drink? I have coffee, water, another beer?” you chuckled.

“Beer is fine,” he said sitting on the couch; that damn couch. Memories of you riding him came back and he sighed wishing he could go back to those times again. 

“Here you go,” you said holding another for yourself. 

“Place hasn’t changed,” he spoke up.

“Yeah, I- you I’m not good with interior design. And shit’s too hard to move around and replace,” you laughed. 

There was a long moment of silence between you but it wasn’t a comfortable one; it was awkward and unsettling.

“I uh- I’m sorry. For the way things ended.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I kinda figured out what was really going on. You know the whole blip thing. I’m not mad anymore.”

“I’m still really sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Bucky’s heart ached when you said that.

Bucky had shown up one day years ago and left. He told you didn’t love you anymore but you saw through his bullshit. He told that night he was in trouble which wasn't a lie. Thanos had come and Bucky was taking refuge and fighting in Wakanda with Steve, Nat, and Sam after the Accords. He said that you being with him was going to put you in danger. He didn’t say anything else he just kissed you and left. 

His clothes were still in your drawers. His toothbrush stayed untouched. His shampoo used to be in your bathroom but you used if all up when he left depersate to smell his scent since he wasn’t there anymore. 

You were livid to say the least. He had given up on you. He didn’t even talk to you; he didn’t try anything to keep you. So you moved on. But you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t think back on those times at least once a day. Bucky did too. Now after chaos decreased, you realize he did what he thought was best and you forgave him.

“I think about you everyday, Y/n.”

You looked at him with eyes but your head was still down; your eyes avoiding his directly though afraid you’d fall again. He had a new arm; black with beautiful specks of gold in every line and crease of the metal, you assume. 

“I miss you,” he ever so slightly scooted closer to you, as did you subconsciously. 

You couldn’t say anything. You felt frozen.

“I regret how I left. God, I hated myself so much for so long. I still do.”

“Don’t. It was stupid of me to hate you for saving the world.”

“Why are you so perfect?” Bucky leaned in slowly, moving a hair from your face. 

“Buck,” you whispered. 

“Yes?”

“We shouldn’t.”

“You want me to stop?”

You paused.

“No,” you leaned forward and attached your lips to him. 

Bucky’s hand curled into your hair, pulling you flushed against him. Your hands tugged at his shirt doing the same. You two kissed for what felt like hours before you stood abruptly surprisingly Bucky. 

You grabbed his hand and led him to the bedroom; where you two spent most of your time together memorizing each other’s bodies. Where you’ll get to do so again tonight; even if it’s the last time. 

Bucky pressed your back against the door when you both stumbled in. He kissed hungrily like it was last time he’d get to do so. You two were both a little tipsy, not fully sure if either of your actions were genuine or touch-starved.

It didn’t matter in the moment anymore when Bucky’s lips attacked your neck making you moan and pant, each breath pressed your chest to his. His hands went under your shirt cupping your breasts; the stark contrast between his hands bringing memories back.

You kissed again before pulling his shirt over his head and discarding yours just as quickly. You felt frenzied; clouded by lust and need for the man you still love in front of you. He crawled back on the bed after all his clothes had been shed. 

You crawled up his body smiling and biting your lip. You felt yourself getting wetter just at the sight of Bucky fisting his cock; he bit his bottom lip as well looking at you with hungry eyes.

You straddled his hips feeling his dick poking the inside of your thigh. You cupped his face, his scruff scratching the palm of your hand. His hands rubbed your hips and cheeks as he closed his eyes, basking in your attention he craved for so long. 

You lifted your hips to sink down onto Bucky; you both simultaneously moaned at the feeling you both ache for. It didn’t matter how many times you two had sex, Buck’s size always had some getting use to. 

“Sorry, I think I’m ok now,” you whimpered.

“It’s ok, doll. Take your time; I remember how needy you get with my cock, huh, baby?”

“Bucky,” you moaned. 

You grinded yourself on his dick, each thrust brushing your clit making you shudder in pleasure. Bucky grabbed your hair and pulled it hard exposing your neck and arching you back. His lips kissed and nibbled on the skin of your neck, you gasped when he kissed a particular part.

“I remember, baby,” he smiled.

“Of course you do,” you breathed out laughing. 

“I thought about this everyday since I left. I thought about those pretty sounds you’re making bouncing on my cock. I thought these gorgeous tits pressing up against me. I thought about how good this pussy feels wrapped around me. Baby, you were made for me and if you think I’m gonna let you go again you got it wrong.”

His words brought you to the edge and you climaxed with a loud high pitched moan. Your body practically shook against Bucky’s. Bucky chased his own release flipping you over and rutting his hips into you wildly. 

When he did his hips stuttered and his head buried in your neck. He moaned loudly in your ear and you almost came again just from that. His arms collapsed and his body flopped on you. 

Blissed out, you softly scratched his back. His breath slowly even out and you figured he’d fallen asleep. You scratched his head as well before closing your eyes and falling asleep as well.

You woke up alone. You were secretly hoping that you’d wake up beside Bucky but no. you wobbled out of bed into the bathroom seeing the mirror fogged up. He took a shower and left, great. So much for last night. 

You washed your face in an attempt to put some wake in you and put some clothes on. You walked out to the kitchen to make breakfast but was surprised to find Bucky playing some old tunes on the radio and making you breakfast?

“Awe, man. And I was just about to bring you breakfast in bed, doll,” he smiled, holding a plate of food.

“I thought you left,” you said softly.

“I took a shower and wanted to make you something before we… part ways… again,” he sounded sad towards the end of that sentence; like he didn’t actually want to leave. Honestly, you didn’t want him to either.

“You don’t have leave,” you whispered, Bucky long turned the radio off. 

“I don’t want to, truthfully,” Bucky said.

“Then stay.”

“You must love me if you want me to stay after what I did,” he said, walking up to you.

“What if I do?” you asked.

“Then I’d be the happiest man in the world.”

You kissed him softly, feeling him melt into your kiss. 

“Promise you won’t leave again? No matter what happens?” you asked.

“I promise.”

[kieraelieson]

Three Times Patton Got Lost in a Market

Thomas was walking through the old store with his mom, careful to hold her hand while they shopped.

“Oh, look! There’s a wind chime! It’s just like the nice neighbor lady!” Patton said.

Thomas stopped to look, and his mom stopped too, looking at something else across the aisle.

“It isn’t exactly the same,” Logan said. “Hers has a hummingbird on top, but this one has a butterfly.”

“And anyway, this one has prettier colors when the light hits it,” Roman added.

“Oooh, the red really is pretty, Roman!” Patton said excitedly. “And the purple, and the yellow!”

“It’s exactly the colors of the most beautiful rainbow reflecting back from a pot of gold,” Roman said dreamily.

“Mom!” Virgil suddenly shrieked, alerting them all to the fact that Thomas’s mom was no longer beside them.

Instantly, there was a pandemonium of overlapping voices, all very confusing, and Virgil at the front screaming.

“Quiet!” Patton yelled, as loud as he could, and then felt a little like crying. He didn’t like yelling, but this was important!

“But we have to find Mom!”

“We should run after her!”

“If we yell someone will hear!”

“Listen to me!” Patton yelled again. “Remember what Mom said? If we get lost in the store we stay put, and if we see an employee then we ask them to call mom for us.”

Virgil bit down hard on his sleeves, and Patton took his silence for agreement.

“That is indeed what Thomas was told,” Logan admitted.

“I still think we should go find her!” Roman protested, though less pointedly than before.

Thomas plopped down on the floor.

“Ok. That settles it, we’re waiting for mom,” Patton said. “Let’s look for more pretty things while she comes to get us. Roman, what else can you see around us that looks like a rainbow?”

Roman grumpily crossed his arms. “There’s a rainbow on the lawn decoration.”

“Very good!” Patton said. “Logan, can you see anything that’s science-accurate?”

“Science-accurate is a very vague phrase, but I suppose you could be intending to direct me to the collection of decorative barometers.”

“Oooh~ yes, the water swan neck thingies~” Roman said.

Logan launched into an explanation of barometers, most of which Patton didn’t understand.

He checked on Virgil, who was scanning the aisle they were in over and over again, and chewing holes in his poor sleeves.

“She’ll be here in just a minute, don’t worry,” Patton said gently.

Virgil nodded slightly, but didn’t stop checking the ends of the aisle and staring down each person that passed.

And then his eyes went wide. Patton turned to look.

“Mom!”

“Thomas, I thought I lost you for a minute there! Stay close, ok?”

Thomas took his mother’s hand and nodded.

Patton let out a sigh of relief. They weren’t lost anymore.

••^*^••

Thomas was a bit worried about high school, and especially the test coming up, and Logan and Virgil were mostly helping him with that. But now he had to go to the store for groceries. And Roman was exhausted after being all excited over the play and was sound asleep.

So Patton was helping shop!

He smiled confidently, prompting Thomas to look at the list again. He needed to get the ingredients for tacos, and some bread, milk, eggs, and ice cream. Yum!

Now what all went into tacos?

There was meat, and sour cream, and little shredded lettuce, and cheese, and taco shells, or was he supposed to get soft tortillas?

Patton considered, wandering into the store towards the food. Maybe both? Yeah. Both. Oh! And there was the bread! That would probably have tortillas near it!

Patton hummed happily, finding the bread that looked the same as what mom had been getting, noting the brand name. Nature’s Own. Huh.

Now tortillas… what kind did they normally get?

He finally just picked the one that had blue on the label.

Virgil popped up, startling him for a moment, especially with his intense frown. “People are staring. We’re taking too long near the bread, and your humming is gonna make people think Thomas is weird.”

“Oh, it’s alright!” Patton said cheerfully, glad he hadn’t dropped the tortillas. “I didn’t get in anyone’s way, and they haven’t said anything yet about thinking Thomas is weird.”

“Yeah…” Virgil glared at the people milling around and shopping. “Well they could. Just… keep it quiet.”

“Will do!” Patton grinned, and Virgil sunk back out.

Next he had to find… well, next he had to find the next thing. Should he keep walking and hope to see them, or should he seek each one out? He’d stumbled upon the bread, surely he would stumble across the rest.

Patton hummed happily and kept walking, skipping along beside the cart as Thomas pushed it. Thomas must really be out of it, poor guy. But Patton could help him cheer up!

Pretty soon, they had almost everything! Except for taco seasoning. And Patton wasn’t sure if they were supposed to get the kind that was in packets, or the actual spices. And he also wasn’t sure whether he should look in the spices area or the Mexican food area. Or where those areas were.

Surely they’d passed those special Mexican drinks a while back. But where?

Patton encouraged Thomas to turn around and go back, but after several aisles he still couldn’t find anything he was looking for. He turned back around, and then again.

“Perhaps… I need to go from one end all the way to the other…”

Virgil popped up again, rather grumpy looking, but not as much as earlier. “That’s gonna take too long. We’re already late, and Mom is gonna need Thomas home son so she can make dinner.”

Patton sighed. “Ok. Logan, help please, I’m lost.”

Logan popped up, looked around, and then pointed. “That aisle.”

“But how do you know?” Patton asked.

“There’s a sign above it.”

Patton looked up. “Oh. Yeah.” He chuckled. “I should’ve thought to look for signs. Thanks, Logan!”

“You’re welcome. However I do suggest we attempt to make our trip home expedient. I’ll need Virgil’s full attention and assistance to prepare adequately for the test.”

“Will do!” Patton said, already spurring Thomas towards the aisle.

••^*^••

“I have created the ultimate maze!” Roman said excitedly. “It is called Infinite IKEA!”

Patton clapped excitedly, and even Logan gave a single clap.

“I really don’t see the point—“

“The point is a race, Emo Nightmare, and the winner gets to pick which old reruns Thomas watches tonight.”

Virgil tried to pretend he was still disinterested, but Patton could tell he was excited. “So what would we have to do to win the race?”

Roman grinned. “I’ve hidden a copy of each of our logos in the store somewhere, except for mine, which Logan hid by sinking in and placing it in a random place, so he doesn’t know the layout of the store yet. You have to find your own logo, and then exit the store!”

Oh, so that was why Logan had a bump on his head. He’d probably tried to rise up too close to a shelf. Ouch.

“Everybody ready! Set! Go!”

They all rushed into the store. Patton looked around excitedly, getting more excited to see that the store was full of items that came from houses where Thomas had lived or visited. He ran to the section of beds and flopped onto the biggest one.

He let out a comfy sigh, looking up at the roof which, rather than being metal supports and too-bright lights, was intricately painted with something that glowed.

It was amazing.

“You did a really great job, Roman,” Patton said, even though Roman was probably running ahead to win the race— oh! This was a race!

He jumped up and started walking, looking around for his heart with glasses.

After the bed section, where he wished he could stay and flip onto each one, he wandered into the lamps and chandeliers section. That was beautiful. He was still dazzled and in awe walking out. It even had that massive one Thomas had seen in the one hotel once.

And then came books, where Logan was!

“Hi, Logan!”

“Ah, greetings Patton.” Logan was looking through the books, just as captivated as Patton had been by the beds.

“Find your logo yet?”

“Not yet. I’m not overly concerned with winning, and Roman has certainly made this an interesting place to browse.”

“Mhmm!” Patton looked around. “Where are the kids books, I want to see if the Winnie the Pooh book is still chewed on or if Roman made it brand new.”

“That way, two shelves down,” Logan said, rather distracted by a book he’d picked off of the shelf.

“Thank you!”

Patton found the children’s section, and then found the book. It was still chewed on the corners. He smiled, and flipped through the thick cardboard pages. Thomas had loved this book.

And then, when he opened the last page, his logo fell out.

“Awww, look!” He picked it up, and found that it was a sticker. He promptly stuck the sticker to his chest and put the book back. Now all he had to do was find his way out!

He wandered into the next section, which was all dark and purples and blues and blacks and everything cozily packed together.

There was even a sign warning him away from certain aisles, because there would be spiders, and Patton was very glad Roman had thought of that.

And then he remembered the sunglasses stand sitting at the beginning of the lights aisle. That was probably for Virgil. Roman had been so thoughtful in building this! Patton hoped Roman would win. He certainly deserved the prize after putting all this together.

There was a whole section of Disney, all the movies, and posters, and any Disney themed toys and figurines, and even cardboard cut outs! It was lovely and chaotic and colorful, and it bridged Virgil’s section with Roman’s very well.

Roman had every single picture Thomas had ever seen, which was so many pictures!! Patton looked in awe until he realized that the paintbrushes weren’t just for show, some of them had been used. There was a little black cat in the corner of one painting, and a little V, and the paintbrush was in a cup of black water.

Patton found a picture of a field of flowers, and picked up the paintbrush, dabbing a bit of pink onto the picture. It turned instead into exactly the kind of flower Patton had been envisioning! He smiled wide and painted another, and another, and another, and each one turned out beautiful!

He ran to another painting and gave a little boy in the background a balloon and a smile. And then he gave the lady sitting in a rocking chair a baby to hold.

He finally had to stop himself. He could stay here forever, but he probably should get to the end of the store so he wouldn’t worry the others.

He got to the end of Roman’s section, only to find a massive blanket fort. He kept himself from exploring, and passed through, coming out at… the beds again?

Ohhhhh, right. It was a race and a maze.

Patton flopped down on the bed Thomas had grown up with, wrapping up in the blanket. He let out a happy sigh.

“Logan! Roman! Virgil! I’m lost! But I’m also gonna stay lost!”

Roman rose up and leaned against the footboard, a pleased smile on his face. “Enjoying the store?”

“I’m loving it!” Patton said happily, sitting up. “You did a really good job!”

Roman glowed. “I guess I’ll have to leave it up for you to wander in then. Once Virgil finds the exit I’ll put it somewhere more obvious so you can get out once you’re done.”

“Oh, did you and Logan already get out? Who won?”

“Logan, but only by a few minutes. He hid my logo in a hard place! How was I supposed to guess he’d put it under the makeup stash?”

Patton chuckled. “Wait, I didn’t see that.”

“It’s in Virgil’s section, in one of the spider aisles. I can un-spider it for you if you want.”

“Well, let Virgil have his fun first, but I’d really like that.” Patton smiled. He could have fun in here for a long time. “You did an amazing job with the paintings too! I loved those!”

Roman puffed up happily. “I did, didn’t I?”

There was a distant, triumphant, “Ha! I made it! Wait, Princey beat me? Aww.”

Patton giggled.

Roman patted his shoulder. “Have fun.”

“I will!” Patton said happily, eyeing the blanket fort which he now had time to explore.

—————

If you enjoyed, please reblog! And consider supporting me as I try to make a living off of writing 😊

[kjack89]

For the prompts for 300 fics, some kind of angst and reconciliation fic? I know that’s vague but I’m in the mood for some angst with a happy (or not!) ending, and you’re my go to for that :)

Angst with an optional happy ending? Nonny, you know me too well.

This is part 1 of what will be either multi-chaptered or just longer once I get it on AO3, so at the moment we’re just dealing with some light angst, and who doesn’t love that on a Saturday night. Hopefully the second part will be posted in a few days.

E/R, modern AU. Former relationship.

Enjolras pulled his hood even tighter over his blond curls and glanced over his shoulder before reaching up to feel for the key hidden on top of the door jamb. He was surprised, and more than a little concerned, when his fingers touched nothing but very dusty wood, and he chanced another glance over his shoulder before rapping lightly on the door.

The door opened no more than an inch. “Password,” a gruff voice barked, and Enjolras sighed.

He really should’ve known.

“Grantaire, if you don’t let me in, I will break down the door and use one of the splintered pieces of wood to kill you,” he said, as patiently and politely as he could, just in case someone was listening.

Grantaire opened the door enough to admit him, closing it after him and locking the doorknob lock and deadbolt before sliding the chain into place. “Firstly, I’d like to see you try,” he said with a grin that Enjolras did not return. “Secondly, for future reference, the password we were looking for was ‘my full glass’, with a security question of ‘what do I believe in?’.”

Enjolras tugged off his hoodie and balled it up before tossing it onto the couch, one of the few pieces of furniture in the tiny, cramped apartment. “Would you also have accepted ‘nothing’?” he asked waspishly.

“No, but I would’ve accepted ‘absolutely fucking nothing’,” Grantaire said cheerfully. “Adjectives matter.” His smile faded when he caught sight of the shiner beginning to darken around Enjolras’s left eye. “What happened?”

“Same thing that always happens,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “Meaning you have other, less visible injuries that you’re not going to do anything about until it’s too late to keep them from getting worse?” he asked dryly

Enjolras rolled his eyes and dug his phone out of his pocket to send a quick text. “What are you even doing here?” he asked, purposefully ignoring Grantaire’s question.

He didn’t see the look Grantaire gave him, but he could hear it plainly enough in his voice. “It’s a safe house,” he said. “I think that’s somewhat self-explanatory.”

“No, I mean—” Enjolras did glance up then, to examine Grantaire for an impatient second before telling him, “I didn’t even see you at the protest.”

Grantaire shrugged. “I’m pretty sure we can charitably refer to that as a riot,” he said.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and looked back down at his phone, which he powered off before disassembling it to remove the SIM card. “Whatever nomenclature you want to give it aside—”

“Speaking of nomenclatures,” Grantaire interrupted, “can we talk about how we’re referring to this as a safe ‘house’?” He flopped down on the couch. “This is a safe studio apartment. And I’m being generous with the term ‘studio’.”

“It’s illegal,” Enjolras informed him without looking up from his phone.

“Well no shit, this place is just plain criminal.”

Enjolras tucked his SIM card in his wallet before setting his phone down on the coffeetable. “No, I mean it was illegally built. It won’t show up on any building schematics or floorplans.”

Grantaire blinked. “Meaning…?”

“Meaning as long as you and I are in here, we don’t exist.”

Understanding flitted across Grantaire’s face. “I can see how that would have its advantages,” he murmured before glancing up at Enjolras. “Speaking of, how long do you think you and I will be staying in this lovely 250 square foot box?”

Enjolras shrugged, going to pour himself a glass of water from the tap in the corner of the apartment designated as the kitchen. “Hard to say,” he said, carrying the water over to the coffeetable and hesitating for only a moment before dropping his cellphone into it. He looked at Grantaire. “I assume you took care of any of your electronics with a GPS signal?”

“Yeah, but unlike you, seeing as how I don’t have the disposable income to just buy a new iPhone after every riot, I just left mine at home.”

“I don’t buy a new phone after every riot,” Enjolras muttered, feeling his ears burning red, and he sat down on the futon with a huff. “Only ones that ended badly and with potential criminal charges.”

“So...every riot.”

“I certainly hope you find yourself amusing enough to get through the next few days,” Enjolras said sourly. “Because we’re going to be here awhile.”

Grantaire groaned and tipped his head back to rest it against the back of the couch. “What did you do this time?” he asked, sounding resigned. “Molotov cocktail? Improvised incendiary device?” He turned his head to give Enjolras a wink. “Of course, that’s more Courfeyrac’s style than yours…”

“None of the above,” Enjolras told him, suddenly wishing he still had his phone to give him something to do with his hands. “I, uh, may have – shoved a cop.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “Shoved?” he repeated. “What does shoved mean in this context?” He didn’t wait for Enjolras’s answer. “And keep in mind that I’m not a cop or a prosecutor before you decide to obfuscate or lie.”

Enjolras shrugged again. “Maybe not, but you could also be tried as an accessory if I explain further.”

“As if I wouldn’t immediately execute my fifth amendment right against self-incrimination.”

Enjolras half-smiled. “Cute,” he said. “But you weren’t there.”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow at him. “And it’s on them to prove that,” he said coolly.

“So you’d risk a perjury rap for me?” Enjolras asked skeptically.

Something darkened in Grantaire’s expression. “I’ve risked worse for you,” he muttered, and Enjolras looked away, feeling his face color and hating himself just a little for it.

He bit back his initial response of defensiveness, of turning the tables back on Grantaire and asking him just what, exactly, he had risked over the course of what one could charitably call a relationship and more accurately call a friends with benefits arrangement – but then again, when had they ever been friends? – but something in Grantaire’s expression stopped him.

Or maybe it was just because he was stuck with his ex for the foreseeable future, and even he knew this was a bridge not worth burning right that moment.

“A cop decided to beat up a Black girl,” he said. “She couldn’t have been more than 14, and he didn’t even bother with his baton. She was on the ground and he wouldn’t stop, so I…” He trailed off and shrugged. “I stepped in.”

Grantaire let out a low whistle. “So you’re looking at aggravated battery,” he mused, looking up at the ceiling. “That’s, what, a class X felony? So you’re looking at 6 to 30, unless you can plead it down.”

Enjolras made a face. “Battery’s a stretch,” he said dismissively. “I’ll probably get slapped with aggravated assault.”

“Because the state’s attorney’s office is going to take one look at your record and decide to be generous.”

Enjolras barked a laugh and shook his head. “How do you know all this anyway?”

Grantaire shrugged. “I watch a lot of Law & Order reruns.” He gave Enjolras a critical look. “But potential criminal charges aside, are we just supposed to wait here with no link to the outside world until things blow over or something?”

It was Enjolras’s turn to shrug. “Or something.”

Grantaire sighed. “Great,” he said mournfully. “Well, thankfully, I was planning on quitting my job anyway, or I’d definitely be fired after this next round of no-call, no-shows.” He shoved himself up off the couch and slumped over to the small refrigerator humming ominously in the kitchen, and he opened the tiny freezer portion, pulling out a miniature ice cube tray. “That’s just pathetic,” he said, shaking his head.

Enjolras frowned. “Please don’t tell me you’re already making yourself a drink.”

“Hilarious,” Grantaire said. “But I already checked, and the only booze someone thought to stock this joint with is a couple bottles of bourbon, and I take my bourbon neat.” He cracked the ice cube tray into a ragged dishcloth, which he bundled up before carrying it over to Enjolras, holding it out for him. “This is for you, to try to keep that eye from getting worse,” he said, a little gruffly.

“Thanks,” Enjolras said, hesitating for only a moment before taking the dishcloth-wrapped ice and holding up to his eye, wincing at the cold. 

Grantaire looked at him carefully. “I’m guessing from the way you’re sitting, you’ve also got hit in the ribs – bruised or broken?”

“I’m sure they’re just bruised,” Enjolras assured him, but judging by the look on Grantaire’s face, he didn’t believe him.

Instead, he returned to the kitchen and refilled the ice tray, placing it back in the freezer. “So what are we gonna do now?” he asked off-handedly.

Enjolras shrugged. “Honestly? I have no idea. I’ve never exactly been someone good at relaxing.”

Grantaire snorted. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Enjolras arched an eyebrow, watching with his one good eye as Grantaire flopped down on the couch again. “You know, there was once a time when you would’ve given anything for it to be just you and me, alone, with no outside world for a few days.”

He had intended for it to be a funny, lighthearted memory, but he knew immediately by the way Grantaire sucked in a breath that it had landed as anything but that. They clearly weren’t to the point of joking about what they’d once had yet – if they’d ever get to that point. “Yeah, well,” Grantaire said, carefully avoiding Enjolras’s eyes, “that was a long time ago.”

Enjolras felt himself flush, but before he could offer some kind of apology, or explanation, Grantaire cleared his throat. “I think I’m just going to take a nap,” he said, still avoiding looking at Enjolras. “Riots really take it out of me.”

“Oh, right,” Enjolras said, hurrying to stand. “You can have the futon—”

“Nope, I got dibs on the couch.”

Enjolras frowned. “Take the futon,” he said. “I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch.”

“And I’m not going to make the person with potentially busted ribs sleep on the couch,” Grantaire shot back. “Besides, I checked out the futon before you arrived, and trust me, you’re not doing me any favors by switching.”

He said it with a sort of forced levity that told Enjolras not to push it further, so he didn’t. “If you say so,” he muttered instead, standing up and making his way over to the small pile of books stacked along one wall, hoping he could find something to keep his attention. 

By the time he returned to the futon with a novel that looked like it might do the trick – or at least make him angry enough that he’d have written a very thorough letter to the book’s publisher by the time he got out of there – Grantaire had rolled over onto his side, his back to Enjolras, ostensibly asleep.

But even though it had been a while since they had slept in the same bed, let alone the same room, Enjolras still knew Grantaire well enough to know when he was faking being asleep. And as he cracked open the book he had grabbed, he knew that Grantaire’s too-even breathing definitely indicated that he was not actually sleeping.

Which meant he preferred pretending to sleep to Enjolras’s company.

If that was any indication of how their time stuck together in the safe house was going to go, Enjolras couldn’t help but feel that they would both be very lucky if they made it out of there alive.

>>Read part 2 here>>

[drowningbydegrees]

Totally self indulgent fluff written for the Music Prompt List: 

4. dolce (Italian: sweet) Sweet or sweetly Thank you, @goodheavensgwen, for kindly betaing this for me on short notice! <3 <3 <3 

Read on AO3

Jaskier does nothing quietly. He is bright colors and endless conversation. He is music and theatrics. He unapologetically takes up space, bold and loud and impossible to ignore. Jaskier does nothing quietly.

Except for this.

It’s the early hours of the morning, three days late, when Geralt makes his way back to the inn. Before he even reaches their room, he spots the flickering light of a candle under the door. He opens the door quietly, allowing himself to think Jaskier dozed off writing again, but Jaskier is doing no such thing. He is sitting on the bed, stripped down to his chemise and smallclothes, miles away from anything like slumber.

"I wasn't sure when you were coming back." Jaskier crosses the room by the time Geralt gets the door closed, his voice hushed. The ‘I wasn’t sure if you were coming back’ hangs silently between them, but neither of them give the sentiment any room to breathe. He sets to work unfastening Geralt's armor with a deftness born of having done it a hundred times. It's hard to say when Jaskier learned to suss out what fatigue looks like on Geralt, but there’s rarely any hiding it now. Geralt knows. He has tried.

"I'm not hurt." It's a token protest as his gaze shifts to follow Jaskier’s hands as they skim his shirt sleeves down to his vambraces. There are no wounds to bind and Geralt does not need this, but they both know he'll silently acquiesce to Jaskier's tenderness here.

“Mmm,” Jaskier acknowledges and keeps right on, setting armor pieces aside with just enough care that Geralt can’t quite justify grouching about it. Before long, the breastplate is gone too, replaced by Jaskier’s arms wound around him. “Better?”

The question cracks whatever composure Geralt is holding onto. His hands find their way to Jaskier’s back of their own accord, like they’ve always belonged there. Burying his face in the crook of Jaskier’s neck, Geralt mumbles what would have been a damning confession once. Now it comes easily, as easily as words ever do anyway. “Missed you.”

“Yes, well you can miss me even less if you take off your damned boots and come to bed,” Jaskier grouses, the effect ruined by the kiss he presses to Geralt’s temple while extracting himself from their embrace.

Geralt is just tired enough that the absurdity of that statement only catches up with him when he’s got one boot off and the other halfway there. He huffs out an amused sort of sound as Jaskier snuggles into the blankets and pulls back one side for him. “That’s not how missing people works.” “Excuse me. Who is the feelings expert here? Whose entire livelihood is built in a faithful orbit around the complexities of love and devotion and-” Jaskier’s rant cuts off with a satisfying ‘mph’ sound when Geralt flops down on his side of the bed and leans in to press a kiss to the bard’s lips.

There are nights where kissing is a punctuation of something else, where Jaskier’s fingertips are fire licking down his spine, and Geralt can feel himself unraveling as teeth scrape across his bottom lip. There are times when Jaskier welcomes him back and he can’t think, can hardly breathe in the face of how much he wants. But this is nothing like that. Instead, it’s a quiet sort of affection carved into a life that made no room for it. Jaskier withdraws enough to murmur against Geralt’s lips, “Yes alright, fine. I missed you too.”

Geralt had always sort of assumed Jaskier would love the way he does everything else — in grand gestures and pageantry — and sometimes the bard does. But there’s this too, the two of them curled up together without a soul to see the way Geralt melts under the soothing cadence of Jaskier’s fingers dragging through his hair. There are overwrought declarations caught up in Jaskier’s songs that simultaneously squeeze around Geralt’s heart and make him want to melt through the floor, but this is what feels like the truth. Close as they are, it’s clear that Jaskier is as tired as he is. The evidence lives in the dark smudges beneath his brilliant blue eyes, in the slight lethargy that Geralt can’t assign to any specific action, but is there all the same. Absently, Geralt wonders how long Jaskier stayed up last night, and the night before, worrying over his absence.

“Shh,” Jaskier says with a softness he only ever seems to reserve for Geralt. It’s accompanied by Jaskier’s nails scratching pleasantly at the nape of Geralt’s neck.

“I didn’t say anything.”

He feels Jaskier laugh as much as hears it. “You may as well have, as loudly as you were thinking.”

“I-” There are words he means to say, but his mouth refuses to take the shape of them. An honest sentiment shouldn’t be so difficult, but it sticks to the roof of his mouth like molasses. One day he hopes it will be simple, but for now he leans into the quiet and wills for Jaskier to somehow hear him anyway.

“I missed you,” he says again, because that at least will come. There’s a steady pulse against the heel of Geralt’s hand when he cradles the side of Jaskier’s neck. There are fingers under the fabric of his shirt, traversing scars old and new with a reverence that makes Geralt feel a little undone. There is a home where Geralt never realized he was lacking one.

“I know.” Jaskier swallows like something is caught in his throat. He blinks furiously and Geralt thinks his eyes might be a little too bright, but the smile he gives the witcher dispels any notion of sadness. Geralt doesn’t get much of a chance to appreciate it before Jaskier folds around him like he’s the one of the two of them who needs protecting. Jaskier’s forehead presses against Geralt’s, leaving them too near to see anything anymore. It’s barely more than a whisper that reaches Geralt’s ears, “Oh Geralt. I know.”

You can find the rest of my Witcher fanworks here. <3