#and has been lingering on my laptop for probably six months

[skijumpingf1]

Suddenly meeting you felt different – 2019 Engelberg (D. Prevc x D. Tande)

While we all are going through it with Stephans retirement I can offer you a tiny bit distraction with a Domiel fic (I hope). This is a prequel to my other Domiel fics (first one is here) and its where Domen and Daniel got together in my head. It has lots of oblivious Domen, a bit of Peter and Domen stress and a charming Daniel in it. I hope you enjoy it.

Wordcount: 5318

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

“If someone has the right to be mad today it’s me. Your 13th place is good. So, why are you looking like you want to murder someone?” A voice appears next to me and gets me out of my thoughts. A voice that I can recognize everywhere. Daniel- André Tande is standing next to me, fully changed, and he is watching me as I bind my shoes. We are still at the hill. Around us there are thousands of fans who are cheering for the best jumpers. There are all sorts of people in the changing area next to us. A German physio, a Swiss pr person and obviously our colleagues. Colleagues that are changing or waiting for their teammates to jump. I look up to Daniel and all the noise around us disappears. “Peter beat me again.” Is my answer to his question as if it would explain my mood for anyone but me. Objectively I should be happy for Peter. He is my brother after all. But after the season three years ago my sense of brotherly proudness is not as strong as it should be. Not, when I know how it feels when your better than your legendary older brother. I stand up. Daniel is a bit taller than me, so I still tilt my head to look him in the eyes. To my surprise Daniel nods understanding. “It must suck to be constantly compared to him.” Before I can say something in response, my brother shows up and pats me on the back. “Come on. We have to get back to the hotel.”, he speaks in Slovenian. I roll my eyes because Peter is standing behind me and won’t see it. Daniel however notices and smirks at me. “Oh, Daniel. Such a shame today. I´m sure tomorrow will be better.” My brother finally let’s go of my back to shake Daniels Hand, who is still smirking at me. I shake my head and press my lips together to repress the smile that’s building on my face. It was nice that someone wasn’t in awe whenever the big Peter Prevc talks to them. “We´ll see. But I’m optimistic.” I put my backpack on and straighten my beanie. Shortly my gaze lands on the hill. One of Daniels Teammates is jumping. His last. He missed Marius while speaking to me and Peter. I can see that the jump from Forfang wasn’t that good, but Daniel should be there in the outrun to congratulate him. “You should probably go to your teammates.” Everyone else from team Norway is already waiting for Johann. Daniels eyes widen when he sees his teammate. “Oh shit. See you later.” With that Daniel is running away. I look after him until he is blocked by his teammates. Peter glances at me and gestures in the direction of the exit. “We should really get going.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t even try it. You could make dreams come true. The girls on the hill would fold if you made a move on them.” I forgot my headphones in my hotel room, and I never missed them more than right now. Since we left the hill in this cramped minivan, Anze and Tilen are practically cornering Timi. They are trying to convince Timi to start hooking up with girls on competition weekends. Apparently, both of them just want to help Timi find his true love, but I know that they just want a bit of drama. The season is long and it’s much more fun when you have something to gossip about. Poor Timi is trying everything he can to change the subject, but he is failing miserably. They sit in the middle row, while Peter, Rok and I are in the back. Rok and I exchange looks here and there but we try to avoid getting to much attention on us. We both don’t want to be the next target. One of the positives of having Peter as my brother and teammate is that I´m typically excluded by these kinds of conversations. But today he has other plans. “Domen, when are you bringing a girl home?” I nearly drop my phone when Peter speaks up. Suddenly all eyes fall onto me. I can see that Timi is muttering a quite thank you in my direction. “What?” Peter raises his eyebrow at me. Thank God Rok is in the middle of us and a physical barrier because I know that Peter would like to put his arm around me now. “Right Domen. How is your love life going?”, says Tilen and grins at me. Sometimes I hate this guy. I lean back in my seat and cross my arms in front of my chest. “What love life?” There is a collective sigh from Tilen and Anze after my answer. I can feel Peters gaze on me, but I just ignore it. It´s none of Peter’s business. “Come on, Domen. You are 20. When I was your age, I was already with Mina. And I know how it is when your 20. You can tell me that you don’t have someone.” To my surprise Peter presses the topic further. I don’t know what happened today that he suddenly feels the urge to get into my love life. It can’t be something good. I look at my brother who frowns his face.  For a quick moment our eyes meet before I turn me head to the front again. “Well, I don’t. And considering Timi is also still single it doesn’t seem too uncommon.”

I never have been more thankful that we arrived at the hotel. Peter didn’t get another shot at pressing that topic. Tilen, my roommate for the weekend, notices quickly that he shouldn’t mention the conversation from the car once we stepped into our small hotel room in Engelberg. My facial expression is enough to keep him quiet. I don’t spend too much time in our room. Just the usual procedure of putting the suits and other equipment away. “I´m going on a walk. If my brother shows up just tell him its none of his business where I am.” I zip my jacket up. Engelberg is always one of the world cups with winter feelings. Probably because Christmas is just around the corner. And there is rarely a year where it didn’t snow. So, I take my gloves and my hat with me. “Oh, come on Domen. It wasn’t that bad. Peter just wants the best for you. No need to be grumpy all evening.”, is Tilen´s response. I shrug. Objectively he is right. It were a few silly questions but what Tilen doesn’t know is that Pero found a sore point for me. “No worries. I promise I won’t be grumpy for the rest of the day. I just want a few moments of peace. Maybe I call Nika and Ema. I haven’t spoken to them in ages.” Tilen doesn’t look too convinced but lets me go.

The way through the hotel is quiet. Barely any other guests are around. I would guess that two thirds of the rooms are occupied by ski jumpers and my colleagues are busy with getting settled in. Lucky for me then, I can slip out of the hotel without anyone notice. The cool fresh air hits my face, and I can finally breath again. I love this kind of weather. Clear sky with minus degrees. Nothing is more peaceful. It’s almost dark in the Swiss alps and I can spot stars once I tilt my head towards the sky. Slowly I wander into the forest next to the hotel. The trees are loaded with snow. The atmosphere here is just magical. From my short jogging trip this morning I know that there was a bench not far from the hotel but deep enough to get a bit of silence. I am not keen on getting lost in the alps during a competition weekend, so a long walk is off the cards. My orientation always sucked and long walks in an unknow area would just challenge my luck. When I take the turn in direction of the bench, I spot someone in the dim light of the streetlamp. Great now I couldn’t even have my peace here. Before I turn around to go back to the hotel, I examine who stole my bench. To my surprise it is someone I know. Daniel-André Tande spots me at the same time as I spot him. He raises his arm and waves at me. A small smile appears on my face while I go to the bench. Daniel is one of the few people I could tolerate right now. He grins at me, and his lovely smile brings me to smile even brighter.

“Who is responsible for your bad mood? Not me I hope.”, speaks Daniel as soon I was close enough to hear him. Apparently, my face is enough to tell that I am still pissed. I shake my head. “No not you.” The Norwegian pats next to him and I sit down. He is similar dressed as me. We both wear our team jacket with the matching beanie. But he didn’t bring his gloves. I bet his hands are cold. It’s so cold outside that I can see my breath. Daniel eyes me up from the side. “It’s your brother again?”, he guesses correctly. I sigh loudly. “Am I that predictable?” Daniel gives me a half-smile and leans back against the bench. “Well, normally you are not very emotional. When you are there are usually two reasons. The first has to do with ski jumping but your jumps weren’t that bad for you to still be mad. Option two is always Peter.” I press my lips together. He is right. Just Peter has the ability to make me really frustrated. “What did he do?” With crossed arms I also lean back against the back of the bench. I kick a stone in front of my feet while I try to come up with words that explain the situation but don’t let me look like a maniac. “He wants to know stuff that’s none of his business and he doesn’t take no for an answer. I mean, when I say I don’t have a girlfriend, why press the issue? It’s just annoying. Sometimes I wish -.” Daniel raises an eyebrow at me. I don’t want to continue my sentence. Not in front of Daniel who lost a brother. I lower my head a bit. He notices where my thoughts are. A small smile appears on his face. I can see that it is not really a happy smile, but he tries. “It’s okay. I know how it is with siblings. I understand.” Still, it’s a bit insensitive complaining about my perfectly healthy brother in front of Daniel. Especially since I don’t know how he is coping with the loss.

“How do you know when your attracted to someone?” It is a radical change of subject. Even I know that, but it was the only way out of the difficult situation. I can feel my cheeks burning up which means I’m probably blushing. As best as I can I try to hide it by sinking deeper into my jacket, but I don’t think it is helping much. Daniel next to me is starting to laugh. So much that he is throwing his head back. This is making me blush even harder. When Danile is done with his outburst his face is as red as mine. A few of his blonde strands came loose under his beanie and are now falling in his face. I feel the urge to brush them out of his face but keep my hands to myself. “Did you really just ask that?” I shrug. It is a valid question for me. Even if timing and the person I’m asking it too is a bit strange. “Yeah, I suppose I did. But honestly, how do you know? I mean of course, I recognize a pretty girl somewhere but like what is the next step? Is that it? Or are there deeper things that come to attraction?” Daniels smile softens a bit. “Oh, you are really serious. Sorry I didn’t mean to laugh. I just thought that was your bad try at changing the topic.” “True. It was a bad try at changing the subject. The question was the only thing on my mind. It’s just that I´m 20 now and I thought by now I would have figured out how everything works. But to be honest, I have no clue. When Peter asked about a girlfriend earlier it just made me realize it.”

With a quick motion I remove my beanie and let my hand go through my hair. It is my way of giving me a bit of comfort. I don’t know why I started to tell Daniel of all people one of my most private thoughts. Maybe it is just the way Daniel is. He always seems so genuine and like he really cares. Daniel shifts a bit so that he is facing me. His hands are buried in the depth of his pockets. Maybe I should offer my gloves to him. Its freezing cold out here in the Swiss alps. It would only be fair when he listens to my problems. Before I can do it though, Daniel starts to talk. “Attraction to me means that I want to be close to another person. Physically and mentally. You just want to be with them, get to know them and touch them. You know there is a difference between sexual and romantic attraction. As far as I know someone can be just attracted to someone sexually or romantically but not the other. That never happened to me so far so I can’t really differentiate between those two.” So, it’s more than just to find someone pretty. I suspected that. Did I ever had the urge to get closer to a person? Like really close? Daniel tilts his head to the right and looks me over. My hands are firmly clenching onto my beanie. “Don’t worry about it, Domen. It’s perfectly normal if you still trying to figure things out. In your teenage years you were busy with leading the world cup. Of course you didn’t have time to think about stuff like this. Heck, even I am trying to understand everything, and I would say I´m pretty secure in my sexuality. And if you never feel attraction, it’s also perfectly normal.” Hearing my friend say those words gets me to release a breath I did not know I was holding. If I talked with Peter or any other teammate about this topic, they would have never made me feel normal about this. “Thanks. I think I just needed to hear that I’m normal. I am that kind of person that always assume the worst so it nice to know that other people are also unsure about stuff like this.” Daniel places his hands around mine. A nice warmth is spreading through me. The first time since I started this conversation, I look into Daniels light eyes. “Domen, everything about sexuality and attraction is normal. I know that everything outside of the norm is scary at first, but I promise you will eventually come to terms with it. Trust me I have experience with it.” I raise an eyebrow. What is that supposed to mean? He notices what he said and presses his lips together. I can see that he considers his options. What to tell, what not to tell. Before he can say something, I start: “You don’t have to feel obligated to share anything with me just because I did. On another note, do you want my gloves? Your hands are probably freezing.” I give Daniel an escape if he doesn’t want to talk about it but he just chuckles. “Oh, I promise you if I don’t want to talk about it, I wouldn’t. I would appreciate if you kept it to you, though. The reason why I can guess how you fell is because I had similar feelings growing up until I realized that I’m into guys. So yeah, I’m gay.” I open my mouth again and close it again. What are you to say when someone comes out? I have never been in this situation. Somewhere I probably read ways to response to a coming up but right now nothing comes to my mind. I try it with an understanding nod and smile at him. “Thank you for sharing it with me. Of course I will keep it a secret.” Daniel grins at me. “How hard was it for you coming up with an appropriate response?" I cover my faces with my hands and the beanie. Why is Daniel the one person that can read me like a book? All of my other friends, my teammates and even my family could just guess what is going on in my brain. But not Danny. He always knows what I´m thinking. Sometimes even before I knew. We´re not even that close. Sure, we talk here and there but normally he isn’t my vent.

My phone rings and delays my need to answer. I don’t even have to look at it to know that it is Peter who is calling me. I raise from the bench and shot an apologizing look to my colleague. It was unnecessary to walk a few steps away from the bench since Daniel doesn’t speak Slovenian, but I still do it. Without the lamp that lights up the bench and its surroundings it’s pretty dark in the forest. “What?” My voice is pretty harsh. So harsh that even I feel sorry for it. “Where are you? Tilen said you went on a walk but apparently you are already gone for over an hour. It’s almost time for dinner.” In disbelief, I look at my phone screen. It was almost eight. It didn’t feel like I was out here for that long but with good company time can fly. I gaze over to Daniel who tries to not look to invested in my phone call. The light of the streetlamp is shining directly at him and makes him glow. He seems a bit cold. Since I left the bench, he cuddled himself in his jacket. He probably did not think to be out here that long. It was my fault that he was freezing. If I just turned around, he would have been back in the hotel already. “I forgot the time to be honest. I met Daniel and we talked for a bit. But I promise I´m on my way back.” “Daniel?” “You know Daniel. He is blonde and from Norway. You met him before.”, is my sarcastic response. Which other Daniel would I spent time with? Even Peter would know that. I slip out of one glove and throw it at Daniel who frowns. Then the second one hits him in the face. “Well, we can talk about it later. You really need to come back to the Hotel.” I roll my eyes. Even I am not dumb enough to miss diner. “Yes. See you soon.”

“What´s up with the terror attack?”, raises Daniel one of my gloves in the air. “Be thankful I´m concerned for the wellbeing of your hands. In other news, we have to get back to the hotel. Its nearly eight.” The Norwegian grabs his phone from one of his pockets. “Shit. You’re right.” With a little jump he hops from the bench and catches up with me while he simultaneously slips into the gloves. He is a bit taller than me, and I have to look up to see him in his eyes. “Was my response even appropriate?” We start to walk into the direction of the hotel. The forest looks even more wintery then on the way here. Everywhere is snow. “No worries. It was very proper. But back to you. Did our conversation bring you any clarity?” “It’s nice to know that I´m normal but other than that not really.” I wish it would be clearer now, but I am still confused. I don’t know if I ever felt more for a person than just platonic stuff and just didn’t notice or just didn’t feel that way. If I don’t feel the need for a romantic or sexual relationship, would I just be alone for the rest of my life? Because I certainly don’t want to. It was nice talking to someone. “If I was you, I would start to look into sexuality in general. It’s not black and white. Not just straight or gay. You could be bisexual or pansexual. Maybe you are Demisexual, that’s when you just feel attraction to someone who you already close to. Asexuality is also a possibility but I´m 96 precent sure that you are not asexual.” We come closer to the hotel. Its already getting lighter out here. We walk relatively fast. Both of us need to get to diner on time. “Why are you sure I´m not asexual?” My hands are deeply buried in my jacket when we step out of the forest. Daniel gives me a half-smile. “You will figure it out.”, he winks at me before he opens the hotel door for me. I narrow my eyes. “That doesn’t help me?” Inside the hotel we are greeted with hot air. Daniel grins at me and shakes his head. “I will see you, Prevc.” Then he disappears into the dining hall.

When I enter the dining hall my teammates greet me with a curious look. Even some other tables with different nation are interested that I´m late. As if this was uncommon. I am late fifty percent everywhere I go. With fast steps I get to the table and sit next to Tilen and Timi. Sadly, it is the place directly across of my brother. A plate of food is in front of me. My teammates already ate most of their food. I can feel that this dinner will be an awful experience. “Nice that you finally decided to join us.” Instead of answering my brother I put a fork with rice into my mouth. From across the room, I can feel Daniels eyes on me. For a quick moment I look over to him. He is laughing with his team but here on there he is looking at me. His expression is a bit worried, but he smiles nearly shyly at me. “Domen?” Timis voice gets me to pay attention to my team. All eyes were on me. “What?” Tilen chuckles. “How was your walk?” “Cold.” I don’t know why they tried to start a conversation with me. Clearly, I need to catch up with eating. They should talk to each other. Pero seems not satisfied with my answer. “How did you meet Daniel?” I repress the urge to roll my eyes. “He was sitting on a bench. It would have been rude if I didn’t talk to him.” It is none of Peter’s business that I actually really enjoyed talking to the Norwegian.

In record time I finish my plate. Thankfully the others understood at some point that I just wanted to eat in peace and talked to each other. Rok was the next victim of Tilen and Anze. I listen to them pressuring Rok to get a dating app. The Norwegians are quicker than us with Diner. Daniel waves at me as they leave the room. “Since when are you and Daniel that close?” Timi steals a tomato from my plate as he waits for my answer to his question. I shrug. “We have been friends since I joined the world cup. He was one of the only ones who took my serious and did not compare me with Peter every five minutes.” Also, he is interesting. It is fun talking to him even if it is hard topics like today. It rarely gets awkward with him. Even after his coming out, we continue to talk about it normally. I bet if Timi for example would come out to me it would have been awkward. Obviously, I would support him but something in our dynamic would make it awkward. But not with Danny. “He interrupted your precious alone time, and he is still alive? I just want to know the trick.” Timi says after he steals another tomato. “Maybe it´s just because he isn’t a dickhead.” My plate is finally finished, and I stand up. Last to arrive, first to leave. A motto that I like to follow. I feel Peros eyes on me when I leave the dining room. Tilen would probably spend the evening with Anze and Timi and I could go to my room. Technically at least. The thought of spending the evening in my tiny hotel room alone makes me anxious. After today I could you use a bit of training. Just a light jog on the treadmill. Maybe a short ride on the trainings bike.

When I leave my hotel room in direction of the gym, Tilen hasn’t shown up yet. He really went to the room of Timi and Anze. Sometimes I get a little jealous thinking about the close bond my teammates had. I know that I´m not helping the relationship with my behaviour. Sometimes I tried being a little nicer, but it is hard to connect with them, I think while stepping into the elevator. I look into the mirror in the elevator. Somewhere I read that elevator often had mirror to make them feel larger and not so cramped. I couldn’t relate to that. Seeing my face, my stressed face, everywhere makes me want to throw up. Gosh, what is wrong with me. One diner with the team and my good mood from talking to Daniel was gone. I run my hand through my hair.

The training room is surprisingly not empty. I can hear the rhythm steps on the treadmill before I enter the hotel gym. “Is this becoming a habit?”, jokes Daniel when I walk through the door. He is on the treadmill. His face is a bit red from the workout but in a weird way it suits him. With every step his hair is bouncing up and down. I remove my towel from my neck and put it on one of the benches. The gym is lightened by a few ugly neon lights. For my liking it´s a bit small but for just Daniel and me it should be alright. “Is everything okay?” Daniel stops his run when I don’t answer. Honestly, I didn’t even realize that I gave no answer. For a few seconds I consider lying but it is Daniel. He will figure it out. “I don’t want to vent on you again.” He moves from the gym equipment and takes his blue towel. With a few steps he is next to me and lets himself down on the nearest weightlifting bench. But instead of using it, he just looks at me. “We are having a conversation, Domen. Also, I like being your vent. But I will promise you, when I have something to talk about, I will come to you. Then we will be even.” Daniel always looks so kind I couldn't say no to that face. So, I start talking. “I don't know what it is to be honest. Everything me team does or says annoys me. I know it’s bad. Especially because I feel like an outcast already. I just feel like they don’t get me. When I try being honest with them, they always look at me like I’m crazy, but when I keep to myself, I’m getting grumpy.” Obviously, they are also very competitive. They are professional athletes so they should be. Ever since I was that good with 17 my thinking towards results was a bit damaged. I knew that. Honestly, I should work on it. My jumps should be more important than the place in the ranking. It’s hard when my jumps feel almost as good as when I was 17 but I’m not first. They just don’t get it. It makes communicating with them harder and not just on sports level. Personally, it’s very different for them then for me. I am in the spotlight since I was 16. 16! I was a child back then. My behaviour back than was chaotic to say the least. I learned to keep to myself to not embarrass myself in front of the press and even my team. To say it’s hard to get rid of this is an understatement.

“Have you tried talking to them?” “Sure. Of course. It´s so easy for me to talk to people.”, is my sarcastic response. I nod energetic before I shake my head. “But honestly no. I don’t talk to them about anything.” I let myself slide down the wall until I sit on the naked and cold floor. Daniel is leaning forward a bit. He is just half a meter from my away. I can see a few stubbles on his face. He bits his lips and my attention is drawn to his mouth. Daniel has beautiful lips. “But you talk to me.” “It is easy talking to you. You understand me and don’t make me feel like an idiot for my idiotic thoughts.” And then suddenly it makes click. On the cold floor in a gym in Engelberg I realize it. The reason why talking to Daniel is just so much easier than talking to anyone else. The reason why I like spending time with him. The reason my attention is on things like his lips or his blonde hair. I open my mouth and close it again. What am I supposed to say now? I can’t tell Daniel that. Just because he is into men doesn’t necessarily mean he is into me. I lower my head and stare at the floor. “Stand up, Domci.” He uses my nickname. I didn’t even know that he knows it. Daniel is raising from the bench and is walking towards me. He holds a hand for me out, and I take it because he is Daniel, and I trust him. When I stand in front of him a little half-smile appears on his face. A few centimetres are between us, but we are basically touching. My heart starts racing. Slowly he raises one hand to my cheek. I simply watch. My eyes follow the movement until his skin touches mine. A pleasant prickle runs through my body. So that’s how attraction feels. Without thinking about it, I close the gap between us and kiss him. Daniel lets out a surprised gasp before he pulls my closer with his other hand. My whole body is on fire when I press myself against him. I let my hand go through Daniels hair. A motion that I wanted to do so often, and I never realized. Breathless Daniel is parting our lips, but his hand stays firmly around my waist and on my cheek. “See I told you; you aren’t asexual.” I punch him lightly into his shoulder. Gosh, he really knows me better than myself. “How long have you known?” He smirks at me and raises his shoulders. Then he leans in and gives me another kiss. “I know it since like five minutes ago, but I suspected you had a thing for me since you were 16.” “I am so stupid.”, I laugh, and Daniel joins me. “A bit.” He takes one of my hands in his and intertwines his fingers with mine. “Just to be clear. You like me too? Because these social norms aren’t really my thing.” Daniel rolls with his eyes, which is normally more my thing to do. “Yes Silly. I like you too.” With that he kisses me again.

[gayestnerdsinfiction]

September

Jonathan sat at the kitchen table, going over and over his syllabus with more care than was strictly necessary. He was certainly no stranger to drafting lesson plans and syllabi and course objectives, never had a problem doing it in the past. But this year was so different than other years had been, and he felt a pang of something he didn’t quite recognize as he thought about reclaiming his place at the front of a classroom.

He sighed, gaze shifting to stare out the window. Their home on the outskirts of the city was surrounded by trees and bushes, shrouded in leaves that were tinged with orange to signal autumn’s approach. It was a quiet, comfortable little house that attracted few visitors and seemed to evade scrutiny from the caped crusader and his cohort. If someone had asked him even a few years ago, Jonathan would have never suspected that he’d ever be a professor again, much less a homemaker. But here he was, unbothered by the law, playing house, and sitting at a kitchen table editing a syllabus like the past twenty years had never happened.

A hand settled on his shoulder and he flinched, head whipping around to see Edward standing beside him. He had clearly just woken up, copper hair mussed and sticking up in all directions. Jonathan noticed one of his old university sweatshirts hanging off the man’s small frame, so oversized that he was nearly swallowed by the grey fabric. His glasses were perched on his pointed nose, an unusual sight given the man’s obsession with showing off his wide green eyes. All natural, he would brag if anyone made the mistake of commenting on them. It was not a claim he could make about many of his other features.

“Been up long?” Edward asked through a yawn, hand traveling up the side of Jonathan’s neck to twist into his hair.

“Few hours.”

“Coffee?”

“There’s a bit left in the pot,” he mumbled, gesturing absently toward the kitchen counter as his focus returned to his laptop. “It’s probably burnt to hell, though.”

“No,” he said. “You. Do you want coffee?”

Jonathan paused. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

“No trouble,” Edward replied lightly. He massaged Jonathan’s scalp for a moment longer before disentangling his fingers from his hair and padding, barefoot, toward the coffeepot. “It’s your big day, after all.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Nervous?” he asked, fitting a paper filter into the coffee maker and spooning coffee grounds into it.

“Not really.”

“Do you know anything about your students yet?”

Jonathan shrugged, scrolling up and down through the document as if doing so would show him something he hadn’t already seen a hundred times. “Just their names.”

Edward poured water into the pot before closing the lid and plugging it in. “And you’re teaching… six sections?”

“Correct.”

“So that’s, what, a hundred and thirty kids?”

“Something like that.”

He whistled, turning to lean against the edge of the counter. “Lot of people.”

“Are you trying to make me nervous?” Jonathan asked, more sharply than he had intended.

“Not at all. Sounds like it’s working, though.”

“I’m not nervous,” he insisted. “I’ve done this hundreds of times. I know how to teach.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Edward’s lips. “It has been a while, though,” he pointed out. “And you have a very different reputation these days.”

Jonathan’s jaw tensed. He did not appreciate all these little reminders from his partner on his so-called “big day”. “Don’t you think I know that?” he snapped. “I’m shocked they even hired me with my record, let alone put me in charge of upwards of a hundred impressionable young people. It’s absolutely psychotic. But here we are, and I have to be in a classroom in three hours. So will you shut the fuck up and let me finish getting things ready?”

Edward was silent for a few moments as Jonathan glared at his computer screen, clicking aimlessly between tabs and windows. He tried to angle the screen away from Edward so he couldn’t see that he was doing absolutely nothing of import.

Jonathan wasn’t sure how much time had passed but he felt one of his hands being moved away from the keyboard, followed by the warmth of a mug pressed into his palm. Edward’s hand lingered on his, soft fingertips grazing his skin ever so slightly. Jonathan tightened his grip on the cup, pulling away to raise it to his lips. “Thank you,” he muttered, remembering his manners before taking a sip.

“Of course. I want to be the perfect housewife,” he said proudly, sitting down across from Jonathan at the table. “You know, make your coffee, fix your tie, and send you off to work like they do in the movies,” he continued with a broad grin.

“We are not married.”

“Being a housewife is a state of mind,” Edward replied dismissively. “And don’t expect it to last. My domesticity does have its limits.”

“I wasn’t expecting it to even begin,” he said dryly. “So I don’t imagine I will be too bothered when your generosity goes the way of your hairline and begins to recede.”

Jonathan felt something solid smack into his forehead and Edward’s glasses fell with a clatter onto his keyboard, having been folded and used as a projectile. “You’re very irresponsible with your belongings,” he remarked, making no moves to return the item.

“And you’re very rude to your dutiful housewife,” he retorted.

“Yes dear,” he muttered mockingly.

Another blessed moment of silence. Jonathan exhaled a tense sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Normally, he would be enjoying a morning like this. The transition out of the suffocating heat of summer and into the cool, crisp autumn weather was reinvigorating, even enjoyable under normal circumstances. It signaled a return to comfortable clothes and hot drinks and the skeletal arms of trees who had shed their golden leaves for the season. And he wasn’t able to enjoy any of it because he had some annoying brat in his ear reminding him that he had to go back to fucking school. When he had been a professor before, the end of summer usually consisted of a few weeks of sobriety detoxing from all the opiates he used to fill his time during those unbearable months, followed by an intense stimulant bender around the second week of the semester. And, though he knew he was better off without the haze of withdrawal hanging over his head, he couldn’t help but wonder how he would endure a whole school year without the extra bump.

“I was thinking,” Edward said, interrupting his train of thought, “that I could come down around lunchtime. See you between classes.”

“Hm.”

“Would you like that?” he asked, a hint of hesitation in his voice. “I could bring you another coffee. Or lunch. Or just keep you company if you’re bored. But if you’re too busy—”

“I think that would be nice,” Jonathan said softly, putting a stop to the other man’s rambling. “I have a break from eleven ten to twelve forty.”

Edward beamed, skin crinkling around his eyes as he smiled. “It’s a date, then.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

[smol-and-grumpy]

Confidentiality - Chapter 1: The Conference Call

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: Four months. Four long months that she’s been hiding in lockdown. So when everything starts to go back to normal again, she’s going back to work as Jensen’s handler for the first Supernatural convention after the pandemic.

Chapter Warnings: A little angst, a dash of fluff

WC: 1703

A/N: For this fic, let’s pretend Jensen is single and the pandemic was over and done with after four months. Also I’m sorry ugh, it’s been a while since I wrote Jensen. 

Beta’d by: @dean-winchesters-bacon​​ <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

It’s Monday and Y/N is sitting in a darkened room as she starts up her laptop for today’s work meeting. She had drawn the blinds already, hiding her surroundings from her workmates.

The light on the nightstand illuminates the room enough for the people in the video call to see her features. That’s all they need to see, really. 

Logging onto her laptop with her password, she clicks open the email client, and selects her calendar. The cursor travels over the highlighted block and she clicks on it, searching for the login link to the Zoom meeting. 

It’s 4.56 PM, she still has four minutes left. Wonders if she should click on the link and let the computer connect or if she should wait. She’d hate to be one of the first ones because that’s always awkward. She would spend time talking nonsense with whoever was as eager as her to join a meeting too soon. 

4.58 PM. Now is a good time, probably. Not too early and she’d hate even more to be the last one. 

Moving her mouse over the link, she clicks on it and a window with the meeting pops open. There’s another click and then she’s there, her laptop camera lights up with a green light, signaling that she too can be seen. 

Seeing herself on screen is not something she enjoys. She nervously rights her hair, arranges it so nobody will notice the hickey that she tried to hide with concealer ten minutes before. It’s a fresh one, one he just gave her an hour ago, even though he knew full well that she’s going to have a meeting. It's her own fault because she had let him, always gets so fucking weak when he nibbles at her throat.

Y/N joins as the six people are talking about something. Nonsense, she guesses. She doesn’t really listen. 

There should be ten people in the meeting to discuss the upcoming Supernatural Convention. The first convention after the lockdown. 

“Hi,” she says and waves, because that’s what every newcomer does and she’s greeted with Hello’s and Hi’s back. 

But there’s one guy already sitting in there, looking like he owns the whole fucking internet, and she doesn’t know how he does it with the lighting but he looks downright pretty. It’s not really fair. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Jensen greets her by name. Of course he does, because he likes to rile her up. He’s also the only one who’s so abso-fucking-lutely cheery. “How are you?”

She smirks, “I’m fine, thank you. I hope you are too.”

Keeping it professional, that’s what she can and will do.

“Good,” Jensen nods and opens his mouth to say something more but he gets cut off by her boss who’s taking the lead. 

Y/N doesn’t say much, doesn’t have anything to say anyway during the first ten minutes of the conversation. Lowering her face, she takes notes because it’s a prep meeting where they get informed how it will work out and to see how the spirit of the people involved is for the upcoming convention — which she’s really excited about. It has been a while. 

Jensen and Jared do a lot of talking, as they want to know the details on how to make the experience great for the fans after everyone’s been holed up for so long. And she loves that. She always loved how they actually really care, unlike other show’s leads. There are some points that still need to be talked through and Y/N just sits back and watches. She could watch Jensen talk for days, it’s really mesmerizing. 

His hair is long, his beard too. Jensen’s new look is completely different from Dean. It makes him look softer, and rounds up the edges of his jawline. The graying of his beard doesn’t make him less attractive, and that’s also something that she thinks it’s unfair. She hopes they will let him keep it for the convention. Hopes that he won’t let them talk him out of it because ‘some fans might want to meet Dean and not Jensen’. It’s going to be another month until they go back to filming, so it’s actually feasible. She’s sure that apart from a select few, the majority of fans would love to take a photo with this look and she can’t blame them one bit.

It’s going to be weird when the look is gone. Honestly, she needed some time to get used to it herself, but it has really grown on her. Maybe she’ll mourn the loss — just a little.

“So, let’s recap,” Gina, her boss, says and Y/N snaps her mind back to reality, “Jared’s flying in on Friday already because you want to visit some friends, right?”

“Correct,” Jared nods his head in approval. “You did book the hotel for three nights for me, right?” The question is directed to her co-worker, Julian, who’s responsible for the boys' travel arrangements. 

“Yeah, I did,” Julian says with a nod of his head.

Gina nods, “Good, so Jensen, I see that you’re flying in on Saturday evening as per usual?”

“Yes.” Jensen says. He looks into his screen and licks his lips. She hates that she knows that he’s looking at her.

“I want you girls to be there on Friday evening at the latest? We’ll also go for dinner on Saturday and go over the Sunday schedule.”

“Uh, yes. I’ll be there,” Hannah and Kristin say in unison. Kristin is responsible for Misha but since Misha is also attending Sunday, she sits into the meeting as a formality.

That’s Y/N’s cue.

“I-I’m, uh, sorry, I’m still in the middle of booking my flight but yeah, I’ll be there on Friday.” 

It was a huge issue with Jensen and they’d argued today about the flight. He doesn’t want her to leave until the last possible minute but now she has the confirmation that she has to be there on Friday already.

She sees Jensen raising an eyebrow and hates him for it because he distracts her.

“Okay,” her boss nods, “Jared and Jensen, I’ll have someone picking you up.”

Jared smiles, “Okay.”

“Great,” Jensen huffs out. She can see that he’s a little irritated about something.

The others don’t seem to have noticed, but she does. Jared notices as well, but apart from him clearing his throat, he doesn’t say a word.

“Right, I need to hurry to another meeting. Boys, I’ll see you Sunday!” Gina addresses the boys before waving goodbye, and disconnects. People in the meeting follow her and disappear one by one.

Y/N too, disconnects and is about to shut down her laptop when a skype call interrupts her.

Ugh.

It’s Jensen.

As soon as she picks up, her screen lights up and the view of his face almost blinds her. Honestly, it’s like staring into the sun. Nonetheless, she rolls her eyes because of the things he pulled in the meeting. 

“Why are you rolling your eyes at me?” He asks, seemingly oblivious. 

She groans with another eye roll, “Because you tried to distract me the entire conference call!”

“Excuse me? I wasn’t the one who was trying to undress you with my eyes.”

Y/N cocks an eyebrow, frowning at him. There’s a beat of silence until he groans.

“Fine, alright, I did. Sorry, okay? And why didn’t you say that we’re going to fly in together on Saturday like we said we would?” There’s something about the way he looks and she detects disappointment. 

“As far as I remember, we did not settle on that because you ended up distracting me again and gave me a fucking hickey. And besides,” she sighs, “Nobody should know.”

“Would it really be so bad, Y/N?”

“Jensen, are we really going to have this conversation over Skype?”

“Fine,” he scoffs and stands up abruptly, walking out of the frame. 

Great.

Abandoning her laptop, Y/N proceeds to walk to the window to open up the blinds again. Walking back, she switches off the only other light source, and as if on cue, the door opens.

“Shall we have the conversation face to face instead?” Jensen asks as he barges in, walks to the bed of his guest room, and sits down. He rubs a hand through his long hair, scratches at his beard before he looks at her. 

“I rather not have it at all, but yet here we are, huh?” She strides over to stand in front of him and Jensen looks up, his features are so fucking soft, it makes her weak.

“Why don’t you want them to know? And I’m sure they would let it slide if you flew in on Saturday instead of Friday. You’re only responsible for me anyway and we’re a good team.” His hand reaches out for her, tugs at her wrist, uses his strength to pull her onto the bed with him. 

Y/N lands on her back with a squeal and Jensen takes the opportunity, looming over her and looking down at her. Her hand goes up, strokes his hair back, fingertips tracing along his beard.

“Because the only reason I’m still employed is because you let them put in the contract that you want me as your handler and no one else. They would absolutely hate it if they found out I was fucking their talent.”

Jensen chuckles, his nose touching hers, “That’s not true.”

“What’s that?”

“If anything, it’s me fucking you.” His irresistible smile makes Y/N melt a little before he kisses her. 

He lingers too long, kisses her too softly, too sweetly, knowing what effect his kisses have on her. 

Pushing at his chest, she makes him break the kiss, “I should look for a flight.”

“No,” he chuckles and pecks her lips.

“Jensen!”

“Okay, fine,” he pushes himself up, “but only because I have an interview scheduled.”

Right, he does. It’s going to be an hour long.

“You want me to make dinner to have it ready when you’re finished?” She asks while she sits up and walks over to her laptop.

“Nah, I’ll eat you,” Jensen winks before he walks out.

Chapter 2

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

[bbyboibinnie]

two of us

synopsis: love is hard to come by, especially when the boy you’ve been pining over is already taken. pairing: reader x jisung  genre: fluff, angst, romance, college au  warning: explicit language/cursing wc: 2.8k

one

It was halfway through your senior year in high school when you two had met. This was unexpected to say the least because it was the last semester of your last year; you had no intentions of making any new friends, considering you already had a handful of people you were close with and stuck by for the last three years. It was Chan that introduced you to him. You had known Chan for awhile–he was your lab partner for two consecutive years now–and although you considered him as a friend, you had never actually hung out outside of school before, unless it was for a group project of course. However, one day he had invited you to his birthday celebration and that was the day when you met his other friends, one of them being Jisung. 

“Woah, slow down there.” His word caught you by surprise as you were stuffing cupcakes in your mouth. You didn’t really know any of Chan’s friends at the time and socializing with new people didn’t exactly come by easily for you, so you had opted to linger around the snack table instead. 

Hastily dusting the crumbs off your face, you introduced yourself, “Oh, hey. My name is y/n.”

“I’m Jisung. I think we have calculus together right?” You looked at him closely; with black hair, deep brown eyes, and round cheeks you couldn’t lie–he was pretty cute, but you shook your head in response as you didn’t recognize him.

“Ya, Jisung! Come help me set up the cake!” Another one of the boys had called out, cutting your conversation with him short.

“Keep an eye out for me in calc.” He said as he was dragged away into the kitchen.

two

Sure enough, he was in the same math class as you. Honestly, besides your best friend in that period, you really didn’t pay attention to the other people. After all, the class was impacted and half of them were underclassmen so why bother remembering all the names and faces? 

It was the day after the party and you looked around at everyone in the class; it only took you a moment before you spotted him in a seat two rows over. The lecture hadn’t started yet so he was talking to his friends. You didn’t feel the need to get up to go over and spark a conversation or anything, but when you two made eye contact, you gave him a quick smile before turning back to face the front board. 

For a while, you two would occasionally spare glances at each other and wave or smile if you locked eyes, but there was nothing more. It wasn’t until after the latest exam when he approached you again.

“Hey, how’d you think you did?” He asked, waiting as you finished packing up your belongings. 

“Could’ve done better. What about you?” You made your way to the door and he followed suit.

“Just hoping for that passing grade. Anyway, Chan and I were going to meet up to grab food after class today, wanna come?” You debated going with them for a second but ended up agreeing anyways. 

You didn’t know what to make of Jisung at first, considering you had only exchanged a few words, but after hanging with him, even if it was just for a few hours, you found him to be quite likable. 

From then on, he stuck around and you didn’t mind, in fact, perhaps you enjoyed his presence a lot more than you were willing to admit. 

three 

High school came and went but you were ready to face the new challenges and opportunities that college presented. Most of your other friends had been accepted to places further away, but you had settled for community for the time being. For the most part, you were an independent person; therefore, you tried to not be clingy when your friends left to reach their own goals–you’d see them soon enough again–but you had been worried about starting this whole new chapter of your life alone, luckily for you, someone by the name of Han Jisung had enrolled right alongside you.

As days went by, you two were seen together more and more. Of course he met new people, and so did you, but it was always nice to have someone familiar to go back to and for you, that familiar face was Jisung, and for him, that person was you. 

Your majors were completely different and so were your classes, but you still spent time with him studying, ranting about professors, and passing out in each other’s rooms after staying up to finish assignments. 

“Hey, Jisung,” you whispered, trying to not startle him awake, “it’s almost midnight. You should probably head back to your place before it gets too late.” He was slumped over your desk, fingers lifelessly placed atop the keyboard of his laptop, already drifting into a deeper state of sleep. “Jisung.” You tried again, only to have him groan in response. Shaking your head, you draped a throw blanket over his figure before returning to your workload. 

It had gone on like this for weeks, months, nearly a year. One night he’d sleep over at your place and the next you’d be at his. Both of you had been accustomed to this routine now and you thought nothing of it, however, the more time you spent with him, the more you found things to like about him, and that’s what you were afraid of in the beginning–falling for him.

four 

You were never the type to fall head over heels for anyone, all throughout elementary, middle, and high school, you only had occasional crushes but nothing significant. Yet,

there was something about him that you couldn’t shake off. Maybe it was the way he always made stupid jokes that you couldn’t help but laugh at, or perhaps it was the way he played his guitar and share the new songs he wrote with you first before anyone else got to hear them. It was the smile that reached his eyes and the way he knew you so well, like the back of his hand. It was everything. 

You didn’t expect anything more out of the platonic relationship, but you couldn’t just get rid of the feelings on demand, so you had to let them settle and hope that they’d go away eventually, of course that didn’t work. 

five

Just because you saw Jisung differently, didn’t mean he would have the same outlook on you. 

“What do you think would make a good first date?” Jisung had asked casually over the counter. You were currently on shift at the local boba shop and Jisung often tagged along; typically he just sat there and did his homework as he waited, but on days where store traffic was low, he would ease your boredom by talking aimlessly. This particular caught you off guard though.

“Um, I’m not sure. Why do you ask?” You said, trying to sound casual, while restocking the ingredients.

“Well, I finally managed to receive a ‘yes’ after I asked someone out earlier today.” He said, smiling to himself in satisfaction. You were shocked, but at the same time, not at all. During the twelve months or so that you’ve known him, relationships weren’t a common topic of discussion. Yes, it did come up a few times but college and just life in general was already too time consuming so you didn’t bother with relationships, and neither did he.

“Wow, I’m impressed Jisung. I didn’t think anyone would fall for a clown like you.” You teased him, hoping your disappointment wasn’t showing. You knew that it was a platonic relationship and had set no expectations, yet you still felt a wave of sadness wash over.

“Oh, haha. Seriously though, I only prepared on how to ask them out, but I didn’t think past that because I wasn’t sure I’d even make it this far.”

“In that case, why don’t you consider what the person likes and try to set up something that you both would enjoy? Personally, I don’t think you could go wrong with arcade, pizza, and boba though. I could even hook you up with a discount on the boba.” You said jokingly in an attempt to lift your mood up. 

“What would I do without you? You better keep your word about that discount though. Oh shit, I gotta head back and finish my essay, see ya y/n. Also, text me when you get back to your place!” He shouted the last part as he was in the midst of exiting and the door jingled as it shut behind him. 

six

So his date had gone well and now his status went from ‘single’ to ‘taken’ while you were still struggling to manage your unrequited feelings. You had accepted the situation for what it was but that didn’t make it any easier. 

Naturally as he began to split his time between his new relationship and you, the time you spent with him dwindled down. Weekly study sessions became bi-weekly, which turned into monthly events. You didn’t hold this against him though, you were glad he found someone to connect with. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late… again.” Jisung said sheepishly as he entered your room, with a backpack slung over his shoulders, messy hair, and pink marks peeking out from under his t-shirt. You were flustered at the sight, knowing that he had just come back from being with his significant other, doing who knows what. 

“Uh, it’s okay. Just–let’s just get to studying.” You preoccupied yourself with your various notes and textbooks and tried you best not to be distracted. Suddenly, somewhere along the line, tension began to build. Maybe you were just imagining it but something had shifted between you and Jisung these days, and it gave you a sense of hopelessness because there was nothing you could do about it.

seven

More time had passed and your friendship was still afloat, but it definitely wasn’t the same as before. It seems like everything has its peak and you two have surpassed that; what goes up must come down, so it was all downhill from there. 

As his relationship became more unstable and doubts, he slowly began to make his way back to you. You should’ve been happy, even elated at this fact, but you weren’t. 

“I don’t know what happened. One minute we were fine and the next we were arguing. It’s like I am dating a different person now.” He expressed to you, once again at the boba shop you were still working at. It had actually been awhile since he came.

“Mmhhm.” You nodded wordlessly as you continued to spray down the tables with disinfectants.

“The argument was so petty, I should’ve known better than to engage in it.” The rant continued on and on and you had mindlessly agreed with everything he said, until he noticed you weren’t even paying attention.

“Y/n, are you even listening to me?” 

“Yup.”

“Okay, then will you give me your entire life savings?”

“Yes.”

“Y/n!” He shouted, getting up from his seat to stand directly in front of you on the other side of the counter. His loud voice startled you and you looked up, only to face a boy who was seething in anger. “Why are you blatantly ignoring me? I’m trying to rant to you and you’re not even helping.”

That was the last straw. 

“Listen, don’t come in here asking me to be your guidance counselor after cancelling our plans on dozens of occasions. Also, how could you really expect me to give you my time when you can’t even spare me a minute on any other day. You’ve been a real jerk lately and you haven’t even noticed it! I can’t believe I ever liked someone like you!” The indirect confession left your mouth before you could stop yourself, and he stood there absolutely dumbfounded. 

eight 

 That night, you immediately wanted to hide in the back of the store and hope whatever happened never happened, but you were tired of miscommunication.

“You like me?” Between the two of you, he was the one who had the courage to break the silence.

“Liked. I liked you. Past tense.”

“Do you still like me? Present tense.” 

“No, I don’t–or maybe. I don’t know right now.” You had mentally convinced yourself that you were over him, but trying to admit it out loud proved otherwise. 

“Y/n, I–” He started but you cut him off before he could finish.

“Maybe you should just go home now. I need some time to think.” He had hesitated for a moment, but eventually, he respected your wishes. 

nine

It had been over a week, nearing two weeks, since you’ve talked to him. You already had so much on your plate with finals coming around and constantly having to work, so this was not something you wanted to deal with now, or ever actually. But closure was necessary, for you and for him, so you decided that once finals were over, you’d set things straight.

Grabbing the phone off your nightstand, scrolled through your contacts to find his name.

(11:57 PM ) 

[ you ]  hey, we should talk after finals r over

You sent the text, hoping he’d want closure as well, but minutes passed there was no response. Just when you were about to sleep, your phone vibrated.

(12:05 AM)

[ jisung ] okay, see u after finals then. gn 

ten 

You had just gotten out of your last class of the day when he came into view. Frankly, you hadn’t expected to meet up with him until later on in the day, but that was your own mistake for not specifying when or where to meet in the text. Although this had slightly caught you off guard, you couldn’t put this off forever so you made your way towards him.

It was a relatively cold day; he stood there bundled up in his hoodie and a beanie atop which tamed his hair from the strong winds. 

“Hey.” You said as you stood face to face with him.

“Hey, it’s been awhile.” He responded, eyes softening when he saw you. 

* * * 

Together, you ended up walking back to his place to talk. Nothing much was said during the trip back, besides the occasional polite small talk like “how have you been?” and “how were finals?” 

When he opened his door, you entered wearily; although you had visited his place numerous times in the past, the last time you actually came by was months ago so it felt odd to be back to place so familiar, yet foreign again. 

You were grateful for the fact that it was so warm in his apartment because the weather outside had left your body feeling numb. 

“Here, I know you get cold easily.” Jisung handed you an extra sweater he pulled from his closet and you thanked him before sliding it over your shoulders. 

The both of you just stood in his living room, no one knew what to say or how to start the conversation, but you were here now so it was time to say everything you’ve felt. With a deep breath, you began. 

“I thought I could let go of my feelings for you, but I couldn’t.” You said, focusing on the floor as you couldn’t look him in the eyes. “And I’m sorry if this makes you feel uncomfortable or jeopardizes whatever is left of our friendship, but I can’t keep lying to myself anymore. If you don’t like me, then I’ll have to accept it and move on but I just had to let you kn-” 

Your spiel came to an abrupt stop when he drew you into his arms. Not knowing how to react, you were frozen from confusion and shock.

“Y/n, do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you?” He held you at arms length and gently titled your chin up so you could meet his gaze. “If I had known you liked me, I would’ve never looked at anyone else.”

His words were forming incoherent sentences in your head. Was this his confession? Did he feel the same way? 

He must’ve sensed your puzzlement because he smiled at you and said, “Yes dummy, I like you too.” 

Your immediate response was to smile, but then something dawned on you.

“What about your current relationship?”

“I’m no longer in a relationship. We have been broken up for nearly a month now.” 

“So what does that mean for us?” You say, almost too optimistically. And his response was to pull you in close, so close to the point where you could feel his breath fanning across your cheeks and your noses were barely touching, before closing the gap between your lips and his.

a/n: honestly, this piece is kind of all over the place since it’s my first one but hopefully more practice will make my writing better! also, this is not proofread so my apologies for any grammatical/punctuation errors. 

also here it my masterlist in case you want to read my other works!

[gravelyhumerus]

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter Thirteen

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away” Relationship: Jemily

Rating: Explicit  Summary:  Foxes, lattes, churches and resolutions.

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr:  One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

The first thing she noticed was the snow. It was falling down on her, hitting her skin with pinpricks of ice cold. She wandered through the bookshelves, searching for something. She wasn’t sure what for.

It didn’t normally snow inside the library, but that didn’t seem to matter to her. 

The snow crunched beneath her feet as she turned down another row of books, past the history section and stepping over a stack of books on the floor that was left there by some other student. To her left was a row of empty desks. It was just Emily and the books. 

But, Emily didn’t feel peaceful. Something inside of her told her that she couldn’t wait around, she needed to do something, find something. 

Emily trudged through the snow. Was she searching for a spot to sit and study? Was she searching for a book? When she found it, she would know.

She turned down a corridor, looking up and down the tall bookcases, her eyes skimming along the spines. They were old leather bound tomes, in rich oranges, blues and reds. They looked as if they hadn’t been read in decades. She searched for something she recognized, but nothing made sense to her as she couldn’t make out the titles or authors.

Out of frustration, she turned away to stomp back down the row, but something stopped her in her tracks. 

Emily blinked at the image in front of her. It was a fox standing in the middle of the fiction section, looking at her expectantly. It was as if he had climbed out of one of the books and materialized before her eyes. 

“Bonjour,” Emily said, kneeling down before the animal.

“Bonjour,” said the fox. 

Emily looked around, confused at the appearance of the animal. What was a fox doing in a library? When she looked back, he was gone. 

She looked around. 

“Je suis là,” came the voice, from between two books, announcing his presence on the adjacent shelf.

“Qui es-tu?” Emily asked, wondering who he was—or what he was—and what on earth he was doing here in her college’s library. 

“Je suis un renard,” said the fox. He was a fox. No shit.

She blinked at him, trying to figure out what she was remembering. The fox was familiar. She had seen him before… or read about him before. 

It was just like out of Le Petit Prince—the book that JJ had given her for her birthday. The book was a classic children’s novel, one that Emily had read many times. It was as if the character had simply stepped out of the book. 

The book was about a little boy who lived on an asteroid and was in love with a rose. He went on an adventure through space before landing on Earth. There, he befriended a fox. Emily could picture the simple watercolour illustration of the small boy prince speaking to the fox. She could almost feel the pages of the book between her fingers. She smiled as she thought of JJ’s excited face as Emily unwrapped the present a few weeks back. 

This fox, like in the book, was speaking to her. She racked her brain for what she was supposed to say. 

“What am I doing here?” Emily asked, this time in English. 

“Je ne puis pas jouer avec toi,” said the fox, which was not the answer to her question, since he had told her that he couldn’t play with her. “Je ne suis pas apprivoisé."

I am not tamed, he said. He has not yet been tamed. Emily remembered now what she must say.

“What does tamed mean?” she asked, in French. 

The fox jumped down from the bookshelf and walked through the library, his small paws leaving prints in the white snow. He was bright red against the ground and easy to follow through the familiar stacks. Emily noticed that she wasn’t cold, despite the weather, even as her breath came out in puffs that lingered in the air. 

“It’s something that’s been too often neglected. It means ‘to create ties’... but you know this.”

Emily remembered this part, he was right. In the book, the boy doesn’t know what taming means, how to create ties with the wild animal. He does not yet know the meaning of friendship. 

The novel was filled with layers of metaphor. It spoke to childhood, love, loss and the power of the imagination. Emily’s copy sat next to her bed, and she had been looking through it before she fell asleep that night. 

The fox crept through the seemingly endless bookshelves, his tail swishing back and forth as he walked. Emily tried to keep up, but he seemed to weave through the library with a practised ease. 

The fox stopped. He hopped onto a desk and curled his tail in front of him. He cocked his head and looked at her expectantly. 

“Your person has run from you, correct?”

Emily stared at him. This part was not in the book. She nodded after a moment. 

“I ran from my boy at first, too.”

She remembered this part: in the novel, the young boy wanted to befriend the fox. But he was impatient. The fox explained that it would take time, that the boy would have to return over multiple days to build his trust. The boy would begin sitting far from the fox, not even making eye contact. Over time, he could move closer and closer until they finally could play together. Their friendship could only be forged over time. 

“Were you scared?” Emily asked. 

“At first,” he replied. “But he was patient. And persistent.”

The fox swished his tail, then continued: “At times, my heart was not yet ready to greet him.”

“How did the little prince finally tame you?” 

He did not answer the question, as she already knew the answer, instead he said: “Words are the source of misunderstandings.”

“Was it all worth it? Even though he left you in the end?” Emily asked, her voice barely above a whisper. 

He nodded, then looked off into the distance, almost wistfully. 

“Here is my secret,” he said. “It’s a very simple secret: it is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."

“On ne voit qu'avec le cœur," Emily repeated. She knew this line by heart. It was better in French. 

The fox disappeared into the books and Emily was left alone in the empty library. His words filled her mind.

Words are the source of misunderstandings. It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. 

Emily woke up to the sound of her alarm blaring in her ear. She was curled up on her bed, on her side. Her blankets had fallen onto the floor, and she was close to shivering in the chill air. She slammed her hand onto her phone and fumbled until she turned off her alarm. 

It was a dream. A vivid dream. She didn’t normally get those. 

She stretched, her neck sore after sleeping at a weird angle. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the convoluted dream that was still clear in her mind. Somehow, even after all she had done to distract herself, JJ still was a key figure in her unconscious brain. 

Emily needed to move on from that, focus on school. She couldn’t dwell on what she couldn’t control. She was an expert at pretending everything was okay; she had held herself together through worse.

She stared out the window. Instead of the white snow that had been so crisp and bright in her dream, outside was grey and dreary. She couldn’t see any hint of precipitation, frozen or otherwise, just dead grass and wet asphalt. The trees were bare as the leaves had fallen and been raked up last month, and there was salt on the roads in anticipation of the freezing temperatures.

Emily methodically dressed, donning a pair of jeans and a dark green button up shirt, pulling a sweater on top to combat the chill. She then played some music on her laptop. She focused on the lyrics, allowing her mind to go blank. 

She sat in front of the mirror on her desk, carefully applying her makeup. There was something about a swoop of liquid eyeliner that made everything feel okay. At least, more okay than they used to be. If she looked put together, maybe she would feel like it, too. 

Emily rarely remembered her dreams and she really wasn’t used to having to think too hard about her subconscious. All that was very Freudian, anyways. She wrote the dream off as her sleep-deprived brain mixed with reading before bed. 

She donned her warmest leather jacket, the one with sherpa lining on the collar and tugged a mustard yellow beanie onto her head. Then, she lifted her tote bag onto her shoulders, and put her headphones into her ears, turning the volume up high, hoping that she could drown it all out. 

During her lecture, Emily didn’t retain a single word her professor said. She mindlessly typed her notes, completely zoned out the entire time. She wondered if the words on her screen made any sense, but decided that it must be an issue for a future version of herself. This was probably a bad idea, as it was just about finals season and her exams were fast approaching. 

Her mind was elsewhere: thinking about the blonde who lived across the hall. At times, Emily thought about their kiss, or imagined holding her hand, or holding her body. Then, as her daydreaming gave way to reality, she remembered the anxiety as JJ ignored her texts. She remembered JJ ending it one day, then coming back from a hookup mere days later.

Every day that week, as Emily walked down the hall, a part of her wanted to knock on JJ’s door, like she used to, just to say hi. Beyond everything else, Emily missed JJ. She missed laughing over dinner, studying French, or even lounging in one of their dorm rooms, doing nothing and talking for hours. She missed the way she smelled and her soft touch and her big blue eyes. She missed JJ’s kindness, how she would remember little details about Emily, and how she would knock her shoulder against Emily’s to get her attention. Emily missed her friend.

But the hurt was still there, and it overpowered her longing. The hallway reminded her of JJ’s words, her breaking it off, the tears in her eyes.

Emily hadn’t seen her since, with JJ doing an amazing job at avoiding her.  

As soon as her class was over, she walked off of campus, heading straight to her favourite cafe downtown. It was usually busy this time of day, but she hoped the crowd would keep her from wallowing and make her focus on her work. Campus was inextricably tied to JJ. The field reminded her of JJ’s soccer games, the library of their study dates, the cafeteria of their group dinners and even the quad made her think of the time she almost ran JJ over with her skateboard when she was distracted. 

Emily sat at the long sandy wood table and sipped her latte as she opened her laptop. 

Members of the Prentiss family were extremely talented at pretending things were normal, that everything was fine, and Emily was no exception. She had tucked all the hurt, all the confusion, into a neat little box in the back of her mind. Storing it away until she could deal with it. 

She typed away at one of her essays, only taking pauses to sip her coffee. She was busy finding sources and working on integrating quotes to develop her argument. She enjoyed the sound of her keyboard clacking, adding to the din of the cafe. 

Her phone was tucked neatly away in her pocket. While there was a noticeable silence in their group chat—the one with both Emily and JJ in it—Emily’s phone seemed to be constantly pinging with messages. Derek was checking in on her, Penelope seemed to be trying to distract her, even Hotch had sent her a message to make sure she was ok. If Reid had a cellphone, she knew he’d be doing the same. Sometimes she got messages from Penelope’s number that was signed by the younger boy. Somehow, the whole world seemed to have known exactly what had happened between her and JJ. 

The sun was setting faster and faster these days, and by five, it was creeping below the horizon. At this point, she had most of her essay drafted, so it felt like a good enough time to call it quits. Anyways, her back was starting to get sore from the minimalist chair and all she really wanted to do was curl up in her bed again. 

Emily packed up her bag, depositing her empty mug on the counter, nodding at the barista before leaving. 

She took the long way home, walking along the river and listening to her music, trying to clear her mind. She pulled her hood up against the cool air. 

She walked for five minutes before slowing as she came upon a church that she had passed before. Instead of continuing along her way back to her dorm, something made her pause. 

Lights lit up the facade: a red brick building that stretched up into the sky with a pointed bell tower in the centre. Columns graced the front, standing strong on either side of the large, wooden doorway. 

Emily stared at it. It was simultaneously familiar and foriegn. Emily had spent almost every Sunday in church, be it Sunday school or mass with her mother. No matter where they were in the world, there was always at least one church in the city that they could attend. 

In Rome, their visits had only gotten more frequent, as after school, she and Matthew would wander the Renaissance churches around the city, admiring the architecture and discussing theology and morality and free will. 

Something came over her in that moment, and she found herself wandering up the steps, trying the door to see if it was unlocked. The door swung open easily, and for a moment Emily thought about walking in. She thought about kneeling before the cross and going through the familiar motions of prayer. 

She thought about asking God about JJ, about what was going on, praying for guidance on what to do. She could picture the way the light would dance through the stained glass window, she could feel wooden pew under her knees, she could almost mouth the words of her prayer. 

She thought of St. Georgia, her confirmation saint. She thought of her life of solitude, and how that almost sounded nice. Young Emily had thought the same thing. 

She thought about the mass that she sat in her pew, with tears in her eyes, as the priest talked about how being gay was a sin. She thought about how her mother repeated those words when she came out at sixteen.

She let the door close without entering, before walking away, longing for the feeling of the wind on her face instead of the dusty smell of incense. 

It had been years since she had set foot in church. The last time had been in Rome, the day she walked in with Matthew, before… well there was no before. It just was. Her pregnancy had triggered something in both of them, questions about the church that could not be prayed away. 

Emily clenched her fists, her short nails digging into her palms. She remembered the way Matthew had held her hand at the doctor’s, and held her as she fought back tears, and walked arm in arm into the church in defiance of the priest. 

After, their questions hadn’t subsided. Matthew read and read and read and the more he learned, the more the church transformed the place of safety and solace to something neither teen could stand behind.

Still, she missed her childhood certainty. She missed the feeling of a power greater than herself watching over her. She missed the singing—though she would never admit it—she had really enjoyed being in the choir. She missed how her mother would sit next to her, how it was often the longest time she got to spend with her busy mom. 

Emily shook her head, fighting back the memories, and turned up her music and continued her walk home. She dug around in her backpack for a lighter and her pack of cigarettes. Fumbling for a moment, she lit one and breathed in the dark smoke. 

The wind was biting and her leather jacket did little to keep the cold from creeping into her bones. As the sun was setting, Emily began to shiver. 

After dragging her walk out as long as she could, she finally went back to her dorm. Her hands were iced cold and she was shivering. She dropped her backpack on the floor before collapsing onto her bed. She checked her phone to find a missed call from Derek.

She called him back, knowing that he was likely to pick up from only down the hall.

“Hey,” she said. She felt suddenly tired, and wondered whether he would pick up on that.

“Hey Prentiss,” Derek said. “How’s it going?”

“I’m fine,” Emily lied. 

“No you’re not,” his voice came through the phone, and from the hallway, and he knocked once before opening her door.

Emily sat up, looking over to him in surprise. As if he owned the place, Derek walked over and sat down on her desk chair, letting it spin with the motion of his body. 

 “We’re ordering take out,” Derek said, “You can’t survive on coffee.”

“I can try,” Emily muttered. 

“Pizza?” Derek proposed.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Bullshit,” he said. “You’ve been avoiding the cafeteria.”

Emily crossed her arms. Derek was good at making her feel better, pushing her to take care of herself without forcing her to talk about her feelings. He was a private person, and so he never went too far, knowing that there were lines that neither of them crossed. 

“Thai?” he said with a sly look in his eye, he knew she couldn’t refuse. 

“Ok fine,” she gave up, “You know what I like.”

“That I do,” he said, dialling his phone and calling the local family-run Thai restaurant for delivery. 

Forty minutes later the two of them were eating curry and watching The X-Files on Emily’s laptop. They were sprawled out on the floor, both scooping rice into their mouths as they discussed the plot of the episode—aliens—and whether or not they actually believed in them. 

Emily didn’t realize how hungry she had been and struggled to remember the last full meal she had eaten.

After she had finished, she felt slightly more human, slightly less out of it. Still sad, but being sad on a full stomach, sitting next to her best friend and watching her favourite tv show was a bit more bearable. 

“I just don't get it,” Emily blurted, surprising herself as the words fell out of her mouth. 

“Yeah,” Derek replied, “What’s the point of probing? Don’t they have good enough technology that they could just scan someone and know what’s up?”

“I mean, yeah,” Emily said with a laugh, “But I was talking about JJ.”

She paused. 

“Did I push too hard?” Emily mused, “Was it my fault?”

Emily didn’t plan to vent to Derek. She hadn’t really told him the details yet, as she was still embarrassed after Thanksgiving weekend. Telling Derek’s entire family about how she had a girlfriend and then immediately getting dumped was not great for the ego. 

She learned early that it was safer keeping things to herself. 

Emily had done just about anything to fit in when she was younger. She was desperate to be normal. To be someone that wasn’t the weird queer girl that moved around a lot. She learned languages, learned cultures. She learned how to wear the right clothes, say the right thing. She tried so, so hard to be normal, and yet she never seemed to do it right. 

In her senior year, Emily finally gave up. She dyed her hair, did her make up in a way she knew enraged her mother, and dressed the exact opposite of what the other kids did. 

Since then, Emily was trying to focus on being herself. Derek was her first friend to really accept her for her, and over the past year and a half, she felt herself beginning to relax around him. In her second year at college, she was no longer the new kid. 

She had started to feel comfortable with him, and all of their new friends, so she was kicking herself for letting things with JJ blow up in her face. She should have known this was all too good to be true. 

“Em,” Derek said, “You can’t blame yourself. There’s definitely more going on with her that we don’t know.”

“Did Pen say something?” Emily said hopefully.

“I don’t know,” Derek said, rubbing the back of his neck, “She hasn’t said anything outright, ‘cause, y’know it’s all so complicated. We’re friends with both of you. But she made it seem like it wasn’t just you.”

Emily gulped at the guilt she felt when she thought of how all of this with JJ must be hurting her friends. They had all gotten so close this semester, and she hated the thought of ruining it for everyone. 

“It’s not you, it’s me,” Emily said with a sardonic laugh.

“Essentially,” he said. 

“Look Prentiss,” Derek said, “I think this is just a hiccup. You’ll figure it out. You two just need to talk and stop running from each other.”

“How do I get her to stop running from me?” Emily asked, her dream vivid in her mind once again. 

“Wait it out,” he said, “She’ll come back to you eventually. For now, eat some mango.”

He offered her the dessert, some mango and sticky rice that they had gotten to share. Emily took some with a grin.

She could wait. JJ was worth waiting for.

———

Emily was almost ready for bed when she heard a knock at her door. Derek had stayed for most of the evening, watching tv and talking for hours to keep her mind off of things. He had wandered out around nine, as he had an early practise the next morning.

She was just about to get undressed after brushing her teeth and washing her face. She stood in the centre of her room with her fly half undone as she heard the sound. She zipped her pants back up and walked to her door, unlocking it, expecting to see Derek returning for something that he had forgotten. Instead, she was face to face with Jennifer Jareau.

“Hi,” JJ said. “Can we talk?”

In JJ’s hands was a large tin filled with homemade chocolate chip cookies. They were piled high in the tin, perfectly baked with picturesque chocolate chips still warm from the oven. On JJ’s face was a nervous expression as she held out the gift for Emily to take.

Emily stood and stared at JJ, wondering if she was real or if she had finally snapped and was hallucinating.

A moment passed. JJ smiled nervously at her, big blue eyes boring into Emily’s own.

Emily took the cookies.  

[lady-divine-writes]

ACITW AU one-shot - “Draining Pipes” (Rated M)

Summary: After Sebastian is accidentally exposed to Covid, Kurt convinces him to quarantine. While the rest of the city is slowly opening up, Kurt is returning to a life that resembles normal. But for Sebastian, home alone without his boyfriend, isolation is changing him. And Kurt has some concerns... (2063 words)

Notes: Yes, this is a pandemic fic, but I promise, it's funny XD

Read on AO3.

"Hi, honey! I'm home!"

"Nope. Try again."

Kurt's head snaps up so quickly he stutters a step, nearly tripping over his feet even though he'd already stopped walking. He glares at Sebastian from across the room as if the man had gotten up from his seat, strolled over, and, without a word, vomited rancid sushi all over his Manolo Blahniks. "What?"

In a tone reminiscent of one his NYADA dance teacher, Cassie July, used that made Kurt prickle from head to toe, Sebastian says, "Try. again."

"Try what again?"

"Walking through the door."

Kurt spins around to examine the doorway, searching for clues about what he could have possibly done incorrectly. "And what, pray tell, is wrong with the way I walk through the door!?"

"Every time you come home, you say, 'Hi, honey! I'm home!'"

"Yeah, and... ?"

"It's boring. Unoriginal. It harkens back to an era of television situation comedy that had no hand in influencing our generation and, frankly, regurgitating it is beneath you and your dramatic talents."

Kurt plants his hands on his hips and gawks. What the hell happened to his boyfriend while he was away? He was only gone four hours! "Have you been rifling through my old schoolbooks again? I told you, there was no Illuminati conspiracy going on at NYADA!"

"Why don't you try something different?" Sebastian counters, neither confirming nor denying Kurt's accusation. "Something a bit more, dare I say, exotic?"

"Exotic?" Kurt scrunches his nose with distaste when he says it. Of all the words in the English language, that's one of his least favorite. "What constitutes exotic in your twisted opinion?"

"I don't know. Think of something. You're the creative, not me."

"What? I... " A dozen arguments about how he's just gotten home, how exhausted he is, how travel between here and the theater was a pain in the ass because some people still don't seem to understand what 'over the mouth AND nose' means so navigating his way through the subway was like playing a game of human Tetris with potentially infected pieces and that he's never been all that good at Tetris anyway! die on his lips. 

It would be a waste of breath.

Still, Kurt doesn't know why he indulges him, but he turns on his heel and walks back out the door. After a few seconds of deep breathing in the hall to keep from screaming bloody murder, he storms back in and brightly declares, "Buenos dias, motherfucker! Como what's up?"

Seeing as the two of them speak fluent French, Spanglish is the most exotic thing he could come up with.

Sebastian nods in stoic approval. "Better. How goes life on the apocalyptic landscape?"

"I'm not selling my body for Cocoa Krispies if that's what you're asking," Kurt quips, wondering if this is how Sebastian acts at work and how no one has put the man through a window yet, partner or not.

"So what I'm hearing is you didn't bring home Cocoa Krispies."

"Nope. Sorry."

"Bitch."

"Yeah, well... " Kurt removes his shoes and socks, then sheds his coat, his messenger bag, his slacks, and his dress shirt, carefully piling them on a chair by the front door - their staging area for decontamination. While he undresses, he eyes Sebastian, not paying him an inch of mind, sitting on what has been dubbed the convalescence corner of the sofa, dressed in a soft white tee and flannel lounge pants, his laptop open on legs covered by a quilt his mother made for him when he was ten. Sebastian knows for a fact that Kurt is undressing and yet he's not leering at him, wolf-whistling under his breath or licking his lips like he's watching an Outback Steakhouse commercial. He's simply sitting in his spot, eyes glued to his laptop screen.

And Kurt loathes it.

Sebastian's attentions have been waning more and more lately, and even though it's savagely bruising Kurt's ego, he can't blame him.

Depending on how they choose to look at things, this situation could kind of, slightly, sort of be deemed Kurt's fault.

"Thank you again for doing this," Kurt says, extending an olive branch. He's been doing this so often over the past few months, he's started buying in bulk. "I can't tell you how much you keeping your distance and staying home has put my mind at ease."

Sebastian doesn't look at him when he replies: "No sweat, babe."

"I know it was just one small cough... and the kid was wearing two masks... and a face shield... "

"Hey, like you said, no need taking any chances. Right?"

"Right," Kurt agrees. And he believes it. He believed it then and he believes it now. Had the roles been reversed, Kurt would make the sacrifice, more than willing to lock himself away for the sake of curbing this disease and keeping Sebastian healthy.

But it isn't him. 

And he feels like dirt going to work three days a week, returning to something that resembles normal knowing what Sebastian is missing out on.

"It's his mother's fault for not mentioning that her little plague rat has covid before I got stuck on the elevator with them," Sebastian says, possibly trying to make Kurt feel better even though his gaze hasn't shifted.

"But quarantining for six days longer than necessary? That's above and beyond! I mean it. You deserve a medal." 

Sebastian tosses him a wink over his shoulder but he doesn't linger, giving half-naked Kurt only a brief once over. "I got you, fam. Besides, time's up tomorrow. Then... " He thousand-yard stares in the direction of the flat screen "... it's rat-hunting season."

"It hasn't been all bad, has it?" Kurt asks guiltily as Sebastian's eyes return to his laptop. He'll admit that maybe he did go a tad overboard when he'd found out Sebastian had been exposed, banishing him to one end of the penthouse and the guest bedroom, keeping him at broom handle length for the past nineteen days. 

But they were almost in the clear! And that's the part that pisses Kurt off most. 

The disease hasn't been eradicated, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel. The theater started allowing small groups to return for socially distanced practices. That's a huge win for Kurt. Being away from Broadway and rehearsals and opening nights and curtain calls... it was becoming difficult for him to breathe.

Sebastian was on the brink of going back to the office a few days a week, too. It wasn't so much not being at the office that bothered him, but the peripherals - eating lunch at his favorite deli or hitting the gym before dinner. 

Sebastian had taken three tests after that fateful elevator incident, all of which came back negative, so he was confident everything would be alright. He was in the midst of planning his first in-person meeting, but Kurt balked, pointing out that there has been so much controversy over the accuracy of those tests. Sebastian offered to take three more if necessary, but regardless of the outcome, Kurt didn't feel it safe. And even though they had access to the vaccine (because money), being exposed, even minorly, pushed Sebastian's timetable for receiving his first dose back two weeks.

Kurt's father and stepmother have both received theirs, and Kurt was so looking forward to taking a trip to Ohio for a first hug in over a year. He's going to be damned if a four-foot-tall Petri dish ruins that for him!

But because of his paranoia, Kurt and Sebastian haven't touched, haven't kissed in two weeks. They tried the whole Skype sex thing from different rooms of the penthouse, aiming to recapture old college day thrills to boot, but it didn't work out the way they'd hoped. And even though they see each other every day, talk to one another, aggravate each other, throw popcorn and other food items at each other, Kurt misses Sebastian like the dickens. He misses his hugs, his warmth, his smell.

And yes, he misses the sex.

"Since I've been back to work, you've had the peace and privacy to watch those wacky pornos that your brother sends you."

"Yup," Sebastian says, typing something into his search bar that Kurt can't quite make out. "The wackiest."

"Didn't he say something about them being illegal in the contiguous 49 states?"

"Forty-eight. Tennessee turned itself around."

"It would be Tennessee."

"Always is."

"You probably haven't given your fleshjack a rest in two weeks," Kurt prods, worried over these short responses. 

"Mmph... mmm-hmm... "

Kurt starts circling the sofa when all he gets is a chuckle in response, curious if Sebastian is even listening to him. He comes up behind him, standing on a piece of painter's tape they'd put down to mark six feet so Kurt can peek over his shoulder.

And what he sees on Sebastian's screen makes absolutely no sense.

"What are you watching?"

"Drain clearing videos."

Kurt's eyes go wide. "Drain clearing? Wh-what does that mean?"

"This guy drives all over, and when he finds a street that's flooded, he takes out a rake, drags it through the water, and tries to find the blocked drain."

"Does he work for the city?"

"Nah. He's just some guy."

"And he's made a whole channel about... clearing drains."

"Yes, sir."

"And you're watching it?"

"It came up in my recommendations so I clicked one." Sebastian shakes his head, chuckling when stagnant grey water, punctuated by speckles of rain, turns into a whirlpool, rushing through thick iron bars embedded in the concrete and disappearing from view. "It's so satisfying."

"What on Earth were you watching before this that YouTube recommended it?"

"Car cleaning videos."

Kurt's left eyebrow slowly climbs up his forehead. "A-ha."

"Yup. I never realized how relaxing it is to watch a handsome guy Bissell Kool-Aid stains out of carpet. But now... it's my jam."

Kurt huffs, offended on behalf of himself and his own vigorous cleaning regimen. "It wasn't your jam when I was steam cleaning our throw rugs! And the curtains!"

"Yeah, well, things hit different when you're forced into isolation."

Kurt storms forward a step. But then he remembers. And he stops, foot hovering an inch past the sacred boundary that keeps him from venturing too close to infection. He teeters, determination creasing his brow while anxiety wrestles his shoulders back. All the while, a war wages inside his tired brain:

"Get him! You've been vaccinated!"

"It's only one dose!"

"He's not even sick!"

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do!"

"It's not worth the risk!"

"Yes... it... IS!"

"Come on!" Kurt demands, throwing himself bodily at the sofa. He grabs Sebastian's hand, a small voice screaming inside his head as if his tiny naysayer is being burned at the stake. "Come with me... NOW!"

"Where are we going?" Sebastian asks, rushing to move his computer to the side before he gets dragged off the sofa by his surprisingly strong boyfriend.

"This is an intervention."

"But you shouldn't be touching me! Or breathing my air! I have one day left!"

"You're fine! If you haven't gotten sick by now, you probably aren't going to! This is an emergency!"

"What emergency?"

"Quarantine has turned you into someone I don't recognize! Car cleaning videos? Who are you right now?"

"They're educational. It's good to learn a new skill."

Kurt barks a laugh that could shatter crystal. "Right. Like you'd ever. You'd pay highway robbery to have your ten-speed detailed!"

"Nope, because you'd do it for free."

 Kurt rolls his eyes, unwilling to entertain his boyfriend's mocking of him to ask whether or not that's code. "If you're going to ogle a man wielding a Bissell, Goddammit, it's going to be me!"

"So... are we going to clean some carpets?"

"We're going to take a shower and then have sex. A lot of sex. You're getting fucked and sucked until you're back to normal."

Sebastian snorts, delighted by his incredibly good fortune. "If you insist. But are you absolutely sure about this?"

Kurt stops short and faces Sebastian. He looks him over, making certain he doesn't seem particularly sick, and shrugs.

"We'll wear masks. Or three. I don't need to kiss you to make you cum." Kurt continues to drag Sebastian towards the bathroom as his grin grows to epic proportions.

"Kinky."

[agathaharknes]

yennaia + gamer au

This was supposed to be three sentences and definitely not crack but I just had to... sksjsjssksjjs.

Yennaia prompt: Gamer AU.

LINK TO ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN IN THE REPLIES.

Word count: 1.8k+ Pairing: Yennaia. Rating: T.

Tissaia really had no idea why she was doing this. Perhaps to appease Rita. Perhaps because her addiction to nicotine had worsened over the course of one year of a bloody Continent-wide pandemic and she was loath to use her credit card every time she needed a new pack of cigarettes. Perhaps she was going through a midlife crisis to cope with the fact that being the Chancellor of Aretuza College was already stressful enough without half the generations there trying to fool her subordinates into thinking cardboard replicas or even mannequins counted as attendance or simply because the rest of the Board of Governors (Stregobor) couldn't differentiate between what could be said through an email and what required her to clean her entire house so the background of her call was pristine.

Her controller vibrated in her hands, (Why, for the love of the Gods, couldn't that setting be turned off?) her knuckles turning white from gripping it so strongly. "Oh, for fu- heaven's sake." There, she had been ambushed. Again. A funny and wholly unexpected thing happened, though, one of the users turned on her companions, offing the lot of them with clean headshots the brunette definitely couldn't pull off in the span of twenty seconds.

"Uhh..." What does one say when your virtual saviour just betrayed her entire party on a whim and was being cursed at obnoxiously loudly and vulgarly for it?

Yennefer ignored Sabrina calling her names that absolutely applied to her and her hormonal reaction to a lovely blue-eyed MILF the likes of which she had only seen in her dreams. "No thanks needed, love. I was getting tired of seeing you frown like someone had keyed your car every time you got killed. A pretty thing like you should only have cause to smile." Oh, Gods, now she sounded like a creepy old man that lived in his mum's basement. Great. Good job. Her Social Studies major was an absolute hit. Fuck her life. Fuck Oxenfurt College. And fuck Sabrina's witch-like cackling while she was at it. "Name’s Yennefer." She choked out miserably.

Tissaia scowled at her laptop. Hackers. Amazing. This was the best day of her new normal life. "Mind telling me how you broke through the most expensive antivirus in the Continent, dear? Because now I really need a refund." Now she also needed to contact Aretuza’s IT team on a Saturday night, because she was not about to mess any further with these blasphemous machines, thank you very much.

Wait, what? "That wasn't me... You left your camera on." The woman legitimately squealed at that, her oversized jumper sliding down her left shoulder and exposing just a glimpse of her collarbone as she pinned up her hair into a bun with... were those pens fashioned as swords? Oh, bugger, this was so not the time to get turned on! "Are you alright?" Mercifully Sabrina, Renfri and Phillipa were already accosting someone else, else she was sure the brunette would've completely lost it, more than she already was doing, anyways. "Hello?" No answer.

Tissaia was fishing for her boots when she started ranting, “Oh, don’t you worry! I’m fine! Just dandy! This is exactly how I wanted my life to go.” She motioned with her hand to the space around her. “I wished for nothing more than dealing with complete morons from nine to six, five days a week, whilst trying to make sure my sanity doesn't desert me.” Biting her lower lip for a moment she began checking that the ends of the laces were the same length when she pulled them up. “Running right after to my local grocery store to buy more instant meals that are probably going to give me cancer in five years if the bullshit articles my mother keeps sending me-”

Yennefer had told herself she wasn’t going to allow this wasn’t going to get any creepier than her misguided comment but she still had a gift code for that nice liquor store which conveniently had retailers popping up every six blocks everywhere for the last few months, especially in Thanned isle, only Gods knew why. “This bloody succubus of a twat that is my best friend has been forcing me to constantly use this cursed game by changing the password for my email and then Aretuza’s server and then-” Bingo. One text to Philippa and they had her IP address, with a mortified Triss already calling Jaskier since she was the only one that had managed to get a decent scholarship at that posh college.

This was her future wife who was about to jump from a bridge from the looks of her and they just had to do humanity a great service by saving her from herself and from sobriety.

“Can you believe that tosser? I am a lesbian! I spent my teenage years clad in flannel until my girlfriends staged an intervention kind of lesbian! Yes, Vilgefortz, I will sue you for harassment in the workplace and I will blacklist you. No, Vilgefortz, I don’t want to break quarantine to go on a date with you and I definitely do not want your disgusting cologne anywhere near my-” Tissaia’s head shot up, her doorbell was ringing and she pinched the bridge of her nose, reaching for a new, disposable, mask.

“You stay right there.” She threatened the girl, who had the most beautiful violet… Perhaps she really ought to let Coral get her a therapist. It rang again. “Gods-damn-it.” She thought.

Her plan was going marvellously. She would only have to sleep with a knife under her pillow for a few weeks for blackmailing Sabrina (Who honestly hadn’t the slightest talent to pass off plagiarism as a sudden stroke of genius in her final project without her aid.) into going along with this. The blonde was lighting the candles around the monitor without trying to burn her hair off and had given away her best bottle of cheap but still good wine for the cause. Thanks to Renfri and her frankly psychotic, owl obsessed, girlfriend she already knew what she would be replacing her trauma-ridden last name with! Splendid!

The brunette shut the door on Jaskier’s face after taking the brown paper bag from his hands, spraying the bottle of vodka inside it with so much disinfectant that it dripped down onto her carpet. Taking off her gloves and disposing of them, she grabbed a knife from the counter and ignoring the annoying blue light that came from the kitchen table, “Oh, shit. You’re soulmates. I’ll tell the rest of the girls we’re all fucked.” Tissaia cut off the upper part of the glass in one smooth hit, like Calanthe had taught her when the then teacher could still be considered fun by her groups of friends.

“Shut up, tiddybug!” She heard Yennefer sing-song.

Feeling like being crass the blue-eyed woman took a rather large swing directly from the bottle. Sitting back down, she sighed. Yennefer took a dignified sip from her wine; she could do balanced when her significant other to-be needed to let loose. “Did you like the bottle? It has good reviews from… wait a minute… apparently several alcoholics who don’t know what a budget is.”

Tissaia’s face paled. “I thought you weren’t a hacker.” The woman muttered. She didn’t fancy getting kidnapped and… No, no, no. Fucking Rita. What was the cost of moving, again? If she slept four hours less a day and split her cleaning time in two she could probably trade this house for Stregobor's in-

“I am not!” Yennefer cried. Bloody hell. “You just mentioned that you worked at Aretuza and-” Sabrina had probably started a group call and Phillipa was indeed hacking into her computer to save her arse. The Redanian was currently writing a script for her to follow. “Your username in the game is your surname. My friends and I tried to get into that school a few years back and I do remember that the Chancellor is a woman and that her last name is de Vries.” Her username wasn’t her last name, it was actually something that suggested she was an Ice Queen of the highest order. Queen Elsa from the movie Frozen would be intimidated kind of Ice Queen.

“Everyone is aware the highest-ranking members of the faculty live in chalets near the castle, pardon, the building.” True. According to Triss, that was a part of their contract that if unfulfilled prohibited them from working there ever again. To Yennefer that seemed borderline cruel, forcing them to be available at all hours like circus animals for juniors that didn’t deserve their spots.

“My best friend is a student there and she knows which one is your home because she wants to eventually be a teacher.” Partially true. Until that day came, Triss, like any rational individual, avoided the Chapter’s Village like the plague lingered inside, and wouldn’t be caught dead there unless she had to stop Sabrina from doing something stupid because of the anarchist phase she was going through. Jaskier was an acquaintance of hers of sorts because Triss had tutored his boyfriend Geralt in Biology and being daddy’s boy, he knew which one was Tissaia’s house because he had almost gotten expelled like fifteen times.

“I honestly just wanted to do something nice for you, you sounded like you needed it and… I know quarantine hasn’t been lifted once in Temeria since it all started.” Philippa wrote then that she would probably make for a decent actor without flashing her breasts to the audience every five minutes. She pursed her lips and replied in the mock post-it note to fuck off.

“I… I… Thank you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed- I’m sorry, darling.” Her pale cheeks flushed at the term of endearment that slipped her tongue and Tissaia bowed down her head, red-painted nails caressing the glass bottle almost reverently. “Say, why don’t you tell me what your email address is and I send you my mobile via chat? The explosions in the background aren’t that, uhm, comforting to listen to when I’d much rather be hearing your voice.” Should she have looked up she would have seen the smile that threatened to split Yennefer’s face. “Only if you want to, of course! I- what am I even saying? Never mi-”

“No! Wait!” She placated. Sabrina squeezed her shoulder as she went to retrieve her phone charger, offering her a genuine smile. “I’d love to.”

“Okay.” Said Tissaia, an awed sound leaving her throat when blue finally meet with lilac. Gods, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Rita could have whichever bottle, all the liquor she wanted from the school’s cellar for indirectly enabling this.

Was one week a proper enough courting period to then buy the engagement ring? Or should she just have Philippa get her the best, costliest one from that jewellery eshop they all liked through some minor fraud that would take her like half an hour at most, today? “Good.” Yennefer de Vries had such a nice ring to it.

[notsowrites]

the heart i know

Alex misses Michael terribly while he's off on an roadtrip with his siblings.

This idea has been knocking around in my head for a while, and somehow ballooned into 6500 words.

(AO3 Link)

<3

----------

Despite living in a house with three brothers growing up, Alex had always felt alone. His time in the Air Force had never dissuaded him of that feeling, even as he was constantly surrounded by others. Part of him knew it was the secrets he'd kept, the parts he'd been unable to speak freely about, show the world his whole truth. Buying the house in Roswell after his accident, he'd dedicated time to trying to make it into a home.

But even as he filled it with music and books, and decorated the rooms exactly how he wanted for the first time in his life, he couldn't deny that it felt as though something was missing. An emptiness still lingered through the walls, and though Alex loved this place that was all his own, it wasn't quite home yet.

It wasn't until after - after he'd dated Forrest, after he and Michael had spent months carefully navigating a tentative friendship, after they'd slowly and carefully fallen back together, after Michael had begun to spend more nights sleeping next to Alex than not - that Alex started to truly enjoy the space he'd once carved out for himself.

In his study, against the wall opposite his own desk set up for days when he works from home, is a drafting table covered in sketch paper and notebooks filled with calculations. The sight never fails to make Alex smile, to fill him with a sense of pride for the way Michael's mind works, how he is able to conceptualize and design things, and turn them into a reality. The bookshelves in the room now hold more than just Alex's coding textbooks, and the random literary novels he's acquired when he's had free moments to read, but mathematics and physics, books on environmental science and agriculture that Alex would never have dreamed of owning or reading.

There's a black Stetson that regularly hangs from the hook in the hallway near the front door, a pair of well worn cowboy boots are usually nestled on the floor next to his own work boots. And though he'll never admit it out loud, opening the door to the hallway closet basks him in the familiar and comforting smell of rain that accompanies everything Michael owns.

Before, the most he'd ever left sitting out on the kitchen table had been his laptop, now there are notebooks full of Michael's handwriting that regularly disappear and reappear usually occupying the space at the far end.

In the living room, the blanket he'd kept meticulously folded on the back of the couch rarely ends up that way these days, instead thrown haphazardly after an impromptu nap. Though it's usually Michael who dozes on the couch because he'd been watching and listening to Alex play on the keyboard or trying to work out a new chord progression for a song. He wonders if it should bother him, the way Michael drifts off during those times, but it never does.

The kitchen remains immaculate, save for one new notebook shoved in between the cutting boards that sit neatly against the back splash - Michael's recipe book. Each time he finds some new dish to try, he scribbles the ingredients and the instructions down for reference, though Alex has never seen the notebook open while Michael is cooking. As if he's already committed the entire thing to memory.

But one of the best reminders in the entire house that shows Alex how much this isn't just where he lives and rested his head at night, but is a home he shares with the person he loves, is the modifications to the bathroom. When he'd bought the house, Alex had immediately installed a grab bar and purchased a cheap little bench he could sit on - enough to make do in the shower, but never anything more than functional of their intended purpose. It had been the renovations that Michael had undertaken, designing a more comfortable bench, and a much more accessible grab bar system, that allowed Alex to truly begin to enjoy taking showers, no longer feeling like they were just a necessary, but also something to relax him after a long tiring day on base.

He sits at the dining room table now, setting up the new computer he's purchased for Michael. Of course he'd been unable to stick to a budget, too concerned with making sure Michael had the best for the work he was going to be doing on it. Alex had asked, of course, after realizing that Michael was often just using the browser on his cell phone to search for things, and sticking to pen and paper for everything else. Michael had hemmed and hawed, claimed he didn't need one, and Alex had gotten him one morning, after they'd woken each other up with lazy blow jobs, to admit how much easier his own computer could make things.

Alex misses him terribly.

"I feel pathetic," he'd admitted to Maria three days into Michael's trip with Max, Isobel, and Liz.

"You wanna come over?" She'd asked, taking pity on him. "We can just cozy on the sofa and watch cheesy romcoms and gorge on junk food."

He appreciated the offer, and almost took her up on it. The problem was, the trip Michael had taken didn't have a defined timeline. It all hinged on what they found up in following some clues that led North regarding the UFO crash and it's survivors. Alex had tried to go with him, hadn't wanted to be so far away in case something went wrong, but when his PTO request was denied due to insufficient notice, he'd relented after Michael had convinced him he'd check in every day.

But now it’s been three days since the time they’d spoken, and Alex is starting to worry. He’d resisted during the first twelve hours, convincing himself Michael just hadn’t found a moment alone. The remaining twenty four had been agony, especially when there’s been no answer on anyone’s cell phone - Michael, Isobel, Liz, and Max’s all had gone to voicemail in the end.

"He'll call," Maria had said when he'd told her. "Perhaps there's no signal where they are."

He'd been surprised, given her own ancestral ties to the crash, that she'd elected to stay in Roswell. But Maria had gently reminded him that she was more concerned about Mimi than road trips with no definitive answers, and she had a business to run - sometimes personal trips just had to be sacrificed.

So he occupies himself with setting up the new programs on Michael's computer, making sure it all runs smoothly for when he returns, and buries himself in work projects to pass the time, and tries to not think something went wrong and that's why Michael hasn't gotten in touch.

"We're on our way back," Michael greets him in the first conversation they've had in thirty six hours. "We ran into some problems, so I can't talk long, but we're maybe four-"

"Six!" Alex hears Liz shout in the background.

"-hours away, and there's nothing stopping me from coming right to you."

Alex looks at the clock, and how it's after midnight now, which means it'll be well into the morning hours before Michael is walking through the front door.

"I know you'll probably be tired-"

Michael scoffs, laughing and it's the most wonderful sound Alex has heard in days.

"Tell those bastards you're going to be late."

Alex smiles. "I might not leave at all then."

It's tempting to think about, calling out to spend the entire day with Michael instead. But he has three meetings scheduled, none of which he can get out of short of being on a ventilator. But it will mean that when he gets home in the afternoon, Michael will be there.

He reluctantly falls asleep after that, curled up on Michael's side of the bed, face buried in the pillow that no matter how many times it gets washed, always smells exactly like Michael. It doesn't make Alex miss him any less, but it's been his only comfort these last couple days.

When his alarm goes off several hours later, Alex stubbornly doesn't think about how he woke up alone again. He takes his morning shower on autopilot, wanting to go through the motions enough so that he can just come home to Michael. Breakfast is coffee and cereal, same as it's been every day Michael has been gone, because while Alex is able to cook for himself when he has to - recipes are not that hard to follow - he prefers Michael's cooking. A voice in his head tells him it's just because it means he doesn't have to, but that's not it. He loves watching Michael experiment with things, adding spices or flavors that he never would have dreamed of, and everything still tasting delicious. He'd tried not to be too surprised the first time he’d watched Michael cook for him, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Did you learn from one of the people you lived with?*

Michael had shaken his head, concentrating on the vegetables he'd been chopping up.

"Sanders was the first one who took an interest. After I started working for him, sometimes I'd crash on his couch, and he'd cook me breakfast in the morning. First time someone didn't make me feel like I was an imposition."

Alex's heart always broke hearing about what it had been like for Michael growing up. To not have any memories of happier times, but believing they existed and surviving on that hope. He's often wondered since if there was a way to retrieve the memories that Max, Isobel, and Michael couldn't remember. Particularly after learning about Nora and Louise, and how hard they'd tried to protect their children. His own childhood hadn't always been bad, there had been some good moments, memories from before his mom left when it had felt like they had been something akin to a happy family. It was only after she left when things had changed.

It’s that fear now, of possibly turning into a monster like his father, that keeps Alex from entertaining the possibility of a family. Neither he or Michael have brought it up, and Alex wonders if it’s because they’re both too scared of repeating the unpleasantness of their childhoods. Part of him knows, believes, that he would never turn into the monster that his father was, but fear isn’t always rational, and it doesn’t always make sense, Alex knows that. Maybe one day he’ll believe it too.

Because deep down, he wants it. He wants to marry Michael some day. He's had part of a proposal written since he was seventeen, when he was younger and more naive. There's never been anyone else who made him fell so fast and hard, but Alex doesn't care.

He continues on autopilot as he goes about his day, making the commute to the base, attending his meetings, going over a project that's currently in development for the land the Air Force had purchased from the Foster's several years prior - delayed because of funding and approval issues. He skips lunch, trying to make it through the day faster, and spends most of his last meeting staring at the clock in the corner of his laptop screen.

The drive home is excruciating - it feels longer than it ever has before. There's no new text messages, no missed calls, no voicemails, and Alex tries not to think about how it's probably only because Michael was exhausted. Hopefully he fell asleep the moment he hit the bed, and that's where he's going to find Michael when he gets home.

It's just been two extremely long weeks.

He toes his boots off inside the front door, and drapes his jacket on the hook. There's a black duffel laying near one of the chairs at the dining table, and Alex lets out a sigh of relief. He wastes no time pushing open the bedroom door, greeted by darkness because Michael has all the curtains pulled tight to keep out the sun. He closes the door behind him and pulls his shirt over his head, dropping it in the middle of the floor as he makes his way to the bathroom, flipping on a light. Inside, he partially closes the door and removes his pants, sitting down on the window seat to remove his prosthetic. There's a crutch leaning against the wall, one of the places Michael is always diligent in making sure to place one of his spares. The stress of the past several days has traveled all through his body, and Alex feels it acutely in his hip, and around his stump, which feels extra sensitive to pressure as he removes the liner. He debates the merits of drawing a bath, letting himself relax and let the tension melt away - but it would mean delaying being near, and getting to touch, Michael again for the first time in two weeks, and he decides against it.

Crutch nestled under his elbow, Alex makes his way back into the bedroom, naked except for his boxers, and crawls into bed, letting his crutch fall to the floor. He lets his hands sweep up Michael's legs, past his hips and stomach - a thrill traveling through his body that Michael had fallen asleep naked and ready for him - body following as Alex leans down to place feather light kisses to Michael's skin. He continues upward, pressing his face into Michael's neck, breathing in that familiar and comforting rain smell, his whole body relaxing in response. Alex presses a kiss to somewhere along Michael's jawline, before feeling Michael's arms move, wrapping around him, and pulling their bodies tightly together, indicating he’s awake too.

Without a word, just Michael pushing up to try and find his lips, kisses landing on his cheek, and neck, before finding his lips, Alex feels as he lets go of his hold, and Michael's hand brushes against him. He shifts a bit, so Michael doesn't have to try and squeeze his hand between their bodies, and reaches down, taking Michael in his hand. It's rough, just skin on skin, and Alex knows that friction can't feel good. He pauses, leaning back, and retrieving the bottle of lube from the nightstand where he'd left it during Michael's absence. Carefully he coats his hand, recapping the lid, and reaching back down, fingers wrapped around Michael again as he runs his thumb over the head, which makes Michael moan so so beautifully, and Alex wonders if he'd even touched himself at all during the trip, if he'd been alone long enough to. He jerks Michael off, keeping his face pressed against the side of Michael's neck until Michael is shifting, turning his head and pressing his open mouth against Alex's. He quickens the pace, sensing Michael is close, and pushes his other hand into Michael's curls, pulling at them slightly, but causing the desired effect as Michael thrusts up to meet his hand, and Alex slows his pace, letting him ride it out, pressing kisses to Michael's cheek as he settles back against the pillows.

"Welcome home," Alex whispers, nuzzling against Michael’s cheek, reveling in the contact.

“I told you I’d make it back.” 

Alex lets Michael press their lips together, before watching as he slides out from underneath him, pushing up off the bed and heading into the bathroom. Alex only moves as far enough to sit up, his eyes never leaving Michael, watching as he moves around, grabbing a washcloth from the closet, and running it under the hot water. 

Finally, thanks to the light of the bathroom, Alex gets a good look at Michael, and immediately sits up in bed, blinking hard at the sight. Michael’s body is covered in bruises -most of them are on his abdomen and back, and Alex is pretty sure there’s a cut on his cheek below his left eye.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Alex yells out, suddenly pissed off that Michael hadn’t said anything, Alex had put his hands on those bruises, they had to have hurt.

Michael pauses, looking down at himself like just realizing the bruises are there, before glancing back at Alex, shrugging his shoulders, and Alex tries to maintain his composure. It’s not going to do him any good to get angry at Michael.

“Turns out the people we were looking for were actually looking for Jones. They saw Max, and wouldn’t believe that he was someone else.” 

“And Liz and Isobel-”

“They’re fine - it’s only me and Max who get to look like this. The girls had stayed at the hotel the night this happened - or well, the two days we were missing afterward.”

“Missing?” Alex is seething now, understanding the reasoning behind the fact that he hadn’t been able to get in touch with Michael or anyone else for several days. “Did you forget you have telekinetic powers?”

Michael smiles at him, making his way back into the bedroom, and leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead. It doesn’t do anything to calm Alex down, but he appreciates that Michael knows he needs the physical contact of some kind in this moment.

“They had some sort of serum, something similar I’m guessing to what Helena Ortecho dosed me with when she wanted me to build the atomizer. Rendered me powerless for almost two days. Max too.” Michael slides back onto the bed, and Alex immediately leans forward, hands carefully running across the skin, careful to avoid all the places where Michael has bruises and cuts.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Michael doesn’t reply, and turns away from him, running a hand through his curls, and Alex watches as they slowly fall back into place.

“I don’t want to hurt you-”

“You didn’t-”

Alex glares at him, and thankfully Michael doesn’t finish his sentence. 

“Because you would have stopped touching me, and I didn’t-” Michael sighs, reaching out and taking Alex’s hand. He lets him, adjusting so their fingers are intertwined, and watches as Michael presses a kiss to the back of his hand. “Because it’s been two weeks, and nothing these past two weeks has felt as good as your hands on me.”

“Michael.”

Alex takes a deep breath, and barely lets the idea form in his mind, knowing that he’ll overthink it and talk himself out of it if he does. He pushes himself up, maneuvering on the bed, until he’s straddling Michael’s lap, legs wrapped around his hips. Alex digs his hands into Michael’s hair, and pulls their lips together, foreheads gently knocking against one another. The feeling of them pressing together, only the thin layer of his own boxers in the way makes Alex grind down harder, needing the touch.

Michael flips them, so Alex is underneath him, but his legs still wrapped around Michael’s hips, pulling them close together, and Alex laughs into Michael’s chest as he leans over him and retrieves the bottle of lube from earlier. Alex watches, as patiently as he can, as Michael stands up, pulling his boxers down and squirting some onto his hand, coating his fingers, before reaching down and with one finger pressing into Alex. 

It has been too long as he pushes down into the contact, hands gripping into the sheets of the bed as Michael adds another finger, using just the tiniest bit of force to open him up. And Alex can’t look away, can’t stare at anything except Michael’s face, and the focus in his eyes in how he’s touching Alex. He feels Michael press in one more finger, and while he appreciates the care Michael is putting into making sure he’s ready, Alex finds that he doesn’t care, he just needs, needs-

Michael’s fingers slide out, and Alex groans at the loss, before Michael is lining himself up and pushing forward, and Alex wraps his legs around Michael’s hips again, urging him forward, filling him up. For a moment, they stay like that, Michael buried inside him, and Alex reaches up, grabbing hold of Michael’s shoulders, his neck, and finally his face, and pulling him down into a desperate crush of their lips before he feels Michael pull out, almost all the way but still inside him and holding him open, before thrusting back in. When Michael hits that spot inside him that sends him wild, Alex can’t do anything except bury his teeth into the junction where Michael’s neck meets his shoulder, the rain smell that is so very Michael all he can focus on, before he reaches down and takes himself in hand, leaning into the tightness he can feel forming, his orgasm inching closer now.

Michael’s orgasm hits first as he continues to thrust forward, dropping his head to Alex’s chest with a muffled groan, as Alex continues to jerk himself off, feeling his own orgasm grow, but the friction is too much, and it’s wrong, and as he slows down his movements, he feels Michael’s hand cover his own, and Alex pulls back, watching as Michael takes over. It doesn’t take long, Alex has spent too many nights dreaming about Michael’s hands on him, and it’s as Michael thumb brushes across the tip that Alex lets go, moaning out his own climax into the curls on top of Michael’s head, fingertips pressed into the skin of Michael’s back.

He pulls Michael down into him, their bodies pressed tight, and Alex keeps his legs wrapped tight around him, one hand digging into his curls as they both breath deep and heavy, coming down from their highs. 

It takes another couple minutes before Michael is pushing himself up, and pulling Alex with him, and Alex realizes too late, Michael is carrying him into the bathroom. He doesn’t protest as Michael carefully sets him down next to the shower, and Alex gracefully falls onto the bench, leaning forward and turning the water on, watching as Michael disappears back into the bedroom, returning moments later with his crutch. Alex uses this opportunity to clean himself up, removing the remaining evidence from his skin, letting his fingers dance across Michael’s skin as he watches him do the same.

They dry off, Michael double checking his crutch is within reach, before pressing their lips together one more time, and disappearing back out into the bedroom. He returns a moment later with boxers, and a t-shirt, leaving them on the sink for Alex to get to, and disappears again back into the bedroom again.

By the time Alex has put on the boxers, and pulled the t-shirt over his head, Michael is standing in the doorway, wearing a pair of black boxers, and his hair is towel dried enough that it’s wet, but not dripping onto the floor. 

“Dinner?” Michael asks, and all Alex can focus on is the cut next to Michael’s left eye. It’s already in the healing stages, clearly having been received several days earlier, but it’s entire presence makes Alex angry. “I wasn’t thinking anything too complicated, maybe fajitas? If we have the ingredients, since I’m sure you haven’t cooked anything while I’ve been gone.”

Alex scoffs at him. “I went shopping yesterday.”

He takes his time getting dressed, and fishing out one of Michael’s clean work shirts from the dresser, pushing him arms into the sleeves, pressing his nose into the fabric. He’s always amazed at how well the rain smell persists, but it’s comforting, and it makes him feel like he’s surrounded by Michael even in those moments he’s not. He stands in the middle of the bedroom, debating whether or not to put his prosthetic back on, eventually deciding against it - they’re not going anywhere else tonight, and the idea of wrangling with it when they’re just going to end up going back to bed in a few hours isn’t appealing to him at all.

By the time he makes it out into the main room, standing at the foot of the dining room table, Michael, who has slipped into Alex’s Air Force hoodie so he’s not walking around shirtless, has already spread out the necessary ingredients on the counter in the kitchen. There’s a pan on the stove, and Michael is concentrating on slicing the steak into strips, the vegetables from the crisper waiting to be cut up next. Alex doesn’t pay too much attention to the specifics of the cooking, and glances down at the table, only to notice Michael’s regular notebooks are missing, though the laptop that is his gift is exactly where he left it.

Alex watches, transfixed, as Michael scribbles something into one of those notebooks, and then retrieves his cooking notebook from it’s spot against the wall, writing something down in that as well. The way Michael moves, Alex can’t even begin to imagine what his thought process is like to be able to shift around constantly like he does, one idea after another flowing through his mind, needing to be captured and saved. 

As far as he can tell, Michael hasn’t seen him yet. Which is fine, because Alex is more than happy in this moment to enjoy watching him, reveling in how comfortable Michael looks. He thinks of the drafting table in the study, and two vehicles parked in the garage, and Michael’s clothes with their own space in the dressers, and in the closet, and can’t look away from Michael in the kitchen, cooking and looking very much like this is his home. And Alex thinks of every time Michael has told him about not belonging, about not feeling wanted, and about how often he’d been shuffled around the system, and something tightens in Alex’s chest.

Years ago, he’d seen this beautiful, handsome boy who made his heart beat just a little bit faster, and offered him a warm place to sleep at night. A boy who had stood up for him when no one else would, who had without hesitation put himself between Alex and danger time and time again. Who looked at Alex like he was the only person in the world that mattered, and Alex has always wondered if he’s worthy of that love, of that devotion. But Michael has never looked at him any other way, even in their worst moments, during the arguments and the fighting - Alex has never doubted that Michael loved him. Because while Alex knows he’s always had trouble verbalizing his feelings, Michael has always been one to stand tall and declare them in the most beautiful ways.

And Alex knows that, without a doubt, there is nowhere else he would rather be in this moment. 

“Michael,” he chokes out, because the words are clawing up his throat, and usually Alex is careful about what he says, and how he says it, and he’s never - at least he doesn’t think he has - truly told Michael how he feels. And standing here now, after being apart for two weeks, and the issues with keeping in touch during that time, and the fucking bruises, and it’s all too much for him to keep in now.

“I was thinking about my workshop, and how we can modify some space in the basement here if that’s-”

Alex doesn’t let him finish, can’t even process what Michael is talking about past agreeing with it because he's talking like he knows this is his space, and Alex can't help but feel happy and so fucking proud to see that Michael knows this is his home too.

“Michael,” he starts again, waiting until Michael is looking back at him. “I am so fucking in love with you.”

He was expecting a reaction of some kind, probably something akin to Michael just crossing the room and kissing him. What he certainly doesn’t expect is to hear the knife clatter to the floor, and Michael swear under his breath, and for him to turn the water in the sink on, shoving his hand underneath it.

It takes Alex’s brain a moment to come back online, wondering what just happened, before he realizes that Michael has sliced his hand open. But before he can move, Michael has grabbed a dishtowel, and wrapped it around his hand, as he rushes toward Alex, good hand reaching out and pulling their bodies together, kissing Alex. And Alex is helpless, he melts into Michael’s touch, his arms wrapping around Michael’s waist and pulling himself closer, and Alex faintly realizes his crutch has fallen to the floor.

“You’re such an idiot,” Alex says against Michael’s lips, but Michael just shakes his head, diving back in and kissing him again.

“I don’t care,” Michael replies against his lips, and Alex feels helpless to stop him. "I'm happy to be your idiot."

“We’re going to have to call Kyle now, and have him look at your hand-”

“It’s really not that bad-”

Alex grabs Michael’s wrist, pulling back far enough to get a better look at it, the towel wrapped tightly enough for now, and Alex knows the only reason he hasn’t immediately settled into worrying about an infection is because of Michael’s alien DNA and it’s resistance to human diseases and ailments.

“What if you need stitches?”

Michael smiles, leaning in again, and Alex doesn’t stop him.

"I'm gonna go put my prosthetic on, and then call Kyle, so please, no more accidents." Alex tugs at the dish towel, and Michael yanks his hand back.

In the bathroom, Alex collapses back on the window seat, and takes a deep breath, cursing the events of tonight. Well, not all of them because he'd never regret Michael - even through the good and bad between them, Alex has learned to take it all in stride. He just can't believe Michael's reaction to what he'd said had been to slice his hand open.

He calls Kyle first, leaning against the wall, and wondering if he should never had said anything at all. They're lucky - Kyle isn't working, and agrees to come over, but Alex can hear the apprehension in his voice and knows he's going to have to figure out a way to repay the favor.

By the time Alex has put his prosthetic back on, Kyle is letting himself in through the front door, backpack slung over his shoulder, looking as though he'd rather be anywhere but here - and Alex can't blame him for that. His status as Alien Doctor means he's the only one who can treat the aliens without fear of discovery.

“Do I even want to know?” Kyle asks, carefully pulling back the dishtowel, and inspecting the wound. Alex watches as Michael ignores the question, his good hand reaching toward the new laptop that's still sitting on the table.

“Guerin’s an idiot,” Alex supplies from where he’s standing in the kitchen heating up leftover pizza, since dinner was ruined, and Alex was done letting Michael near sharp objects for the evening. As Kyle sets about cleaning and bandaging Michael’s cut, including dropping a full bottle of nail polish remover on the table for Michael to drink, Alex moves around the kitchen, cleaning up the ruined dinner that Michael had planned for them, shaking his head at the half cut up meat and vegetables, and putting anything that can be saved back in the fridge. 

“Yeah,” Michael adds, not paying attention to Kyle, his gaze firmly settled on watching Alex in between sips of acetone. “But you love me.”

Alex watches Kyle stop what he’s doing, eyes moving up first to Michael’s, and then over to his own, as if asking if he needs to tell Michael to shut up before he starts telling Kyle things he definitely doesn’t need to, or want to, know.

“Did you just figure that out, Guerin?” Kyle replies instead, and Alex wonders if he thought that the safest option. “Cuz the rest of us had bets on how long it would take you two to figure your shit out.”

Alex glares at Kyle, remembering several conversations years ago, where Kyle had tried to nudge him into talking to Michael, insisting that it was the key to everything between them. It hadn’t been bad advice, it had been exactly what Alex had needed to hear. The problem was, like it had always been with them, timing. 

Timing had always been their enemy, even from the very beginning. Alex had thought they’d beaten it, after everything they’d been through where they’d all but given up on ever being together. He doesn’t like to dwell on it too much, on their crashing back together in the weeks following the reunion, or how fast he’d pulled away due to the threat of his father still lingering over them, choosing to protect Michael over being with him.

“Who won?” Michael asks, and Alex glances over to see Kyle bent over Michael’s hand, gauze pressed against the wound. He doesn’t want to know how far off their friends were, if he and Michael had spent too much time letting everything else get in the way instead of trying to work things out between them. But he’s already cleaned up the kitchen, and after all of this, Alex really just wants to eat dinner and take Michael to bed, and not wake up until the morning.

“Max.” That’s a surprising answer, Alex thinks. He’d expected it to be Maria or Isobel. Or even Kyle himself, who seemed to have picked up on what Guerin meant to him long before Alex was even willing to admit to himself that it could be obvious to anyone. “And even he was off by about four months. You two really did take forever.”

“I’m surprised Maria didn’t win.”

“She took herself out of the running, said it’d be cheating.”

Alex is thankful when the oven beeps, indicating the pizza is ready, and ignores the remaining conversation between Kyle and Michael. He removes the tray from the oven, and plates two slices each on plates for him and Michael, before wondering if Kyle is hungry. But as he turns around with the intention of asking, Kyle is standing up, backpack in hand, looking ready to leave.

“I don’t want to know what caused that cut, but for my sanity, please don’t do it again.”

And with that, he’s gone, leaving the two of them alone again.

“Alex, what is this?” Michael asks, fingers running across the smooth top of the laptop.

“It’s yours,” he replies, matter of factly. He knows Michael is going to resist, going to insist he doesn’t need or want it.

“I didn’t ask-”

Alex takes a deep breath, because he knew the fight was coming. He knew that Michael would resist it, because that’s how Michael is. He gives and gives and gives, and Alex has watched him reject things people have done for him over and over again, thinking they were debts that needed to be repaid. 

“I know you didn’t, but with all your research and your designs - I thought this would make it easier.”

Michael doesn’t say anything to that, and Alex wonders if he’s not going to actually argue against it.Maybe it’s just the events of tonight, maybe Michael is going to save the bickering for another day, another evening. 

Instead, Michael shakes his head, eyeing the computer one more time, and pushing up off the chair, and walking into the kitchen. Alex tries to not focus on his injured hand, on the stark white bandage wrapped around reminding him of a different time in their lives, causing him to flinch away, picking up a plate and taking a bite of pizza.

He watches Michael lean against the counter across from him,  picking up a slice of pizza and testing if it’s cool enough to eat. It’s shit timing, but Alex needs to know something, needs to ask Michael about tonight.

“Did you not know?”

Michael pauses, pizza poised in front of his mouth, and frowns at him, before dropping the slice back onto the plate, and sliding it back onto the counter.

“Of course I knew.”

“Because I know I’m not good with words, I know that I don’t make those big grand declarations like you do that take my breath away and render me speechless.”

“Alex-”

“I just,” he pauses, leveraging himself across the linoleum until he’s standing in Michael’s space, fingers itching to reach out and make contact. “It felt important to tell you.”

He lets Michael crowd him against the cabinetry, pizza temporarily forgotten. Wraps his arms around Michael's neck, as Michael pulls him on with his hands settled on his hips, and Alex just loves this man. He's infuriating and he's beautiful, and more than anything else, Alex wouldn't trade anything in their past if it meant changing getting here.

"I told you a long time ago, I don't look away from you. I never could." Alex lets Michael lean in, foreheads pressed together, noses bumping, lips pressed together in smiles. "You're my home, Alex. You made me believe, when no one else did, that I didn't have to build a ship and leave. That I could have a family here too."

Alex thinks about home and Michael's plans for moving his workshop into the basement and kisses him again and again and again, feeling like he's that seventeen year old boy again who got nervous around the boy he liked. Except now they're grown up, they're men who have seen more and done more, and changed them. But one thing through it all has remained the same.

"You really want to move your workshop here?" Alex asks, knowing the answer, but needing Michael to understand that he's asking to make sure. He needs to hear it from Michael.

"Do you not-"

"No!" Alex immediately replies, and then catches himself, knowing how this has to sound. "Fuck. No, I want you to. I'm just - I'm making sure it's what you want."

Michael reaches behind him, and Alex twists his head to see it's one of his notebooks, and they pull away from each other just enough so Michael can flip through the pages to find something specific. Be holds it up so Alex can see and-

It's a design for a prosthetic for him.

Alex takes the notebook, staring at the pages, not understanding half the calculations and formulas scribbled in the margins, but not caring because he understands the design schematic.

"I just thought I could try and make you something that was lighter and easier to get on and off-"

Alex lunges forward, cutting Michael off, and wrapping his arms back around him, using Michael and the countertop for balance and leverage to stay upright. He kisses Michael over and over again, and thinks about everything Michael does for him.

"Say it again," Michael says, pulling back so they can look each other in the eye.

Alex buries his face in Michael's shoulder, pressing his lips against the skin of his neck, but he's smiling. He hasn't felt this happy, this excited, this in love since he was seventeen. He knows Michael is waiting for him, the ever patient partner that as a teenager he never dreamed of deserving, much less finding.

"I love you."

[clockworkgraystairs]

HERE FOR YOU || Jurdan College AU Pt. 2

Warnings: None. Swearing maybe?

Tags: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23​ @aesthetics-11​ @hizqueen4life​ @duarteegreenbriar​ @mysweetvilllain​ @judexcardanxgreenbriar​ @nite0wl29​ @althekingshorses​ @thewickedkings​ @demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover​ @thesirenwashere​ @b00kworm​ @acourtofmoonlight​ @queen-of-glass​ @random-llama-socks​ @jurdanhell​ @cardan-greenbriar-tcp​ 

[if I forgot to tag anyone or if you want to be tagged let me know!]

Summary: After finding a very ill and feverish Jude, Cardan takes her to the doctor. And deals with her usual stubbornness.

HFY Masterlist      Pt 1   Pt 2   Pt 3   Pt 4 [coming soon] 

AO3 link

My masterlist

Cardan had never liked doctors. When he was a little kid, his mother had to apologize several times because he kept glaring and calling them creepy warlocks, claiming they cured people using potions that stunk and had a sour flavor. And even though he’d got over that phase of his life, the scent of medicine still gave him a slight skittish sensation. 

Now, after nearly an hour of waiting he was definitely not enjoying himself, except that this time he couldn’t quite tell if the feeling was because of the smell or not knowing what the doctor was telling Jude, making his muscles tense more with every minute that passed.

One part of him wished nothing more than yell at her for being so reckless and not seeking for help earlier. 

The other part though, kept thinking about that morning.  

He and Jude had agreed to meet every monday and  friday at 9:00 am to work on their final project. At the beginning their meetings had place at the school’s library, since they didn’t talk much. Not because he didn’t want to, of course. But after years of confronting Jude at class, he’d learn to give her space when she focused on something. And maybe because she was a little scary too. 

Within time, her frowning glares became curious eyes and her monosyllabic answers, full conversations.

By the third month, they had to look for a new place to meet. The library’s manager, tired of scolding them at least six times a day for talking and laughing too loud, had forbid them to enter the building together. Or being together in there at all.  

That’s how they ended up in a coffee shop near the campus. The place was small and cozy. The owner, an old sweet lady called Joanne, prepared the best cappuccinos Cardan had ever tasted. 

That morning though, he hadn’t been able to take a sip of his beverage. The two cups of coffee steaming on the table seem to mock him as he alternated his gaze between them and the door, waiting for her to arrive. His leg bounced uneasily and he felt his hands sweatier than usual.

 He glanced at the clock. 9:20 am. She was already twenty minutes late. Jude was never late. 

From the kitchen, Joanne whistled cheerfully the song that came out from the speakers. An italian song he couldn’t identify. When her eyes crossed Cardan’s she smiled and gave him an encouraging nod. He shifted on his seat, looking down at the small bunch of flowers he’d bought. The white peonies and daisies rested smoothly on the wooden table.  

Damn her. Of all days, she’d chose this one to be late.

When he woke up that morning, he was thoroughly decided to finally come clean. To finally tell Jude he was in love with her.

He sent her another message. Nothing. 

He called her. No answer. Again. 

Had she forgotten? 

Impossible, they met there twice a week. 

The only possible option left in his mind was that she’d remembered. And didn’t care.  

Anger pooled on his stomach. What an idiot he felt now. They had an agreement, imposed by her by the way, of letting the other one know about any inconvenience. Was he really that insignificant for her he didn’t deserve a simple notice? 

Bottle it up, he said to himself.

That’s when he remembered she’d been absent from class those last two days too. Even professor Noggle asked about her, a thing he didn’t do with most of the students. 

Cardan frowned. In a swift move he stood and walked out. 

He left the money for the coffee on the table, and the flowers next to it. 

The door opened, bringing him back to the present. As Jude walked out of the consulting room, he noticed her pallor had decreased. Not enough to relax him, but it was something. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, raising to stand next to her. 

She shrugged. “Better, I told you it was nothing. Let’s go.”

“Ah ah,” The doctor started, closing the door behind him. “That’s not exactly what I said young lady.”

Cardan frowned at her. Seriously? Her only answer was a deep sigh and rolling eyes. 

“My exact words were that it didn’t seem like something too serious or life-threatening. Not that it was nothing.” He took a prescriptions block out of his coat and scrawled something in the front page. Jude groaned.  “It’s most likely a severe stomach flu, aggravated by the days it was left untreated. But since the fever was strong, I’d like to wait and see if it settles now.”

“Most likely?” Cardan repeated, his brows pulled together in a frown. What had he paid this clown for, then? 

“Well it’s always good to scrap any other possibility, I took a blood sample from miss Duarte so I can send it to the lab. But I don’t believe it will show any other result.”

He nodded. “So what now? We just wait?”

“Cardan.” Jude mumbled. He didn’t move his eyes from the doctor.

“Pretty much.” He handed him the prescription. “She got an injection for the temperature already. Here are scripted some pills she’ll need to take for the next three to five days, to help with the nausea. And of course, lots of water and electrolytes.”

“Thank you, I’ll get those right away.” She said as she snatched the paper from Cardan’s hand and put it away. 

“Miss Duarte, I’ll recommend you to stay under observation the next two days. Just in case the fever returns and you need immediate assistance.” 

“Of course.” Jude answered nonchalantly, already reaching for the exit. “I’ll let my sister know so she can come over. Thanks.”

Back on his car he drove in silence. ‘Never let me go’ by Florence + The Machine sounded low on the radio. With closed eyes, Jude leaned towards the open window, her brunette locks flying wildly around her head. 

Cardan glanced sidewards at her, forcing himself not to linger too much on her slightly parted lips. His mind went back to the moment she’d collapsed in his arms. Cheeks flushed and burning up in heat. Even if he never admitted it out loud, she’d scared the hell out of him. 

He pulled his attention back to the road and cleared his throat. “I thought both of your sisters were out of town. Is any of them back? I can call them if you like.”

Jude ignored his question. After a moment of silence she whispered. “Why are you doing this?” 

Cardan shrugged.  “It’s a little bit obvious isn’t it?” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “You have our full project on your laptop, Duarte. And it has a password. If you die, then how on earth am I supposed to recover it?”

A punch landed on his arm, followed by a soft chuckle. “Ass. And you don’t need to call anyone. It’s not necessary.”

“Meaning?” Now it was his turn to scowl.

“Meaning,” She sighed. “That I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you already did more than enough. Besides you’re right, my sisters are far far away from here, right where they should.” 

He couldn’t believe his ears. Earning a honk from the car behind them, Cardan pushed the brake, leading the car aside so it could fully stop on the sideway. 

“Hey, calm down Toretto!” She shouted raggedly, grabbing the door handle for support. “What the fuck!?”

“What the fuck? That’s exactly what I’m asking you, Duarte!” Now he could fully turn to face her incredulous stare. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You passed out a couple of hours ago, you were burning up in fever. Do you realize that? Apparently not, because despite the recommendations, you still insist on not listening!” 

An exasperated sigh left his lungs. He grabbed the wheel tighter, trying to ease the growing pool of rage inside him. Calm down. He’d spent his life telling himself to calm down. Being terrible at expressing his feelings, he was used to get irritated every time he faced pain, or fear. Or pretty much anything, actually. But gods, how could she be so stubborn? 

Jude pressed her mouth into a thin line and looked down, her hands twisting faintly on her lap. She was indeed nervous about whatever illness loomed in her body, he noticed, trying to ignore the lips he so badly wanted to tug between his. 

“I’ll stay with you.” The words left his lips before he fully realized it. 

“You what? Don’t be rid-”

“The doctor said you needed to be under supervision.” He answered turning back to the road, and put his car on march again. She was probably giving him some murdering glare that he prefered to elude. “So you have two options sweetheart, either you let me stay at your place or you come back to mine, but a frat house it’s not exactly a place to rest. You are, by no means, staying alone.”

Half a second later, even the radio was muffled by her incessant ranting. Hardly determined to convince him of doing otherwise. 

Cardan just drove.

~

When he parked next to her building the sun was already setting. 

With her arms firmly folded across her chest Jude hadn’t stopped gritting her teeth all the way back. This was madness, she repeated to herself over and over. 

The man showed up out of nowhere, took her to the doctor, paid for her medicine and now wanted to stay in her apartment? No fucking way. 

The problem now, was that if there was anyone on earth even more stubborn than her, it was Cardan. A man that no matter how many times she asked him to just leave her on the sidewalk and leave, was now walking up the stairs next to her. A satisfied grin on his perfect charming face. If she didn’t feel as weak at the moment she’d slapped his way out of the place. 

Once inside she left the medicines and the gatorades on the table and turned to him. 

“For the hundredth time, Cardan. You don’t have to stay, everything is under control and I’m not feveri- what’s that?” She asked, noticing the hanging object on his shoulder.

“A backpack?” 

She rolled her eyes. “I‘m not blind, you ass. What are you doing with that backpack?”

“I always keep some extra clothes in my trunk. You know, in case I find myself in any unexpected situation.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her in a way that twisted her guts. Ugh, disgusting.

The repulse must’ve been written on her face too because he snickered for a second before throwing it next to the couch. “Becoming your hot nurse certainly fits in the category dear, you can’t deny that.” 

She blinked and pushed back the intrusive thoughts that emerged from his statement. Why was her mind against her today? Maybe the fever had burned her coherency brain cells, if she’d ever had any to begin with.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“I know.” Cardan dropped himself on the couch, opening a book he’d taken from his pack. “Now take those pills, put on your weird pijama and go rest.” 

Maybe she could still gather the strength to slap him after all.

Trying to ignore the sour flavor that shitty pills left on her mouth, Jude stood in front of the mirror. Wearing the shorts and the t-shirt she’d put on before they went to the doctor, she found herself suddenly worried by her clothing and messy hair. 

Which was utterly absurd. It wasn’t as if he cared at all about her wardrobe choices.

Still, the idea of them sleeping under the same roof unnerved her. It had been a long time since she’d had someone from the opposite sex staying the night. Either way, her exasperating classmate certainly hadn’t crossed her mind.

She bit her lip.

Ok that was a lie. Being honest she might have thought about it a couple of times. Mostly drunk. She always felt guilty the day after. And pissed. It left her wishing she could hate him again, like she did on sophomore year when he was truly a rude idiot. But no matter how hard she’d tried, his wits and dumb jokes had slowly changed her perspective of him. Not to mention those deep dark eyes and wicked smile of his. It only took a pair of tequila shots to start fantasizing about running her lips along that jaw. FINE, it didn’t take any tequilas to do that. But sober she had a tiny bit of control over her too-creative mind. Drunk Jude had already undressed him in her dreams once. Twice?

And now Cardan was outside, lying down on her comfy couch. Staying the night.

Jude chewed her inner cheek. This was a nightmare. 

As quiet as possible, she opened the door and peered outside. He was nowhere to be seen. Maybe some ancient deity took mercy on her and vanished him to oblivion. That or he was probably in the bathroom, so she tiptoed her way to the modest kitchen. 

She’d just finished preparing her chai tea when the bathroom’s door opened. Decided to ignore him, she kept her gaze down. 

At least until she caught a glimpse of him with the corner of her eyes. That, snapped her attention back. Oh no, no no no no.

“CARDAN GREENBRIAR WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“I...what?” 

“Could you please… I don’t know, maybe put a fucking shirt on?!” She could already feel her blood gathering on her cheeks. 

He paused and quirked an eyebrow. “For your information, Duarte, I tend to sleep naked. These pants are a sign of my consideration to you, since we’re at your place.” 

The goddamn idiot was made of marble. Jude knew he wasn’t precisely one of those big muscular men, not that it meant he didn’t have everything in place. His well formed shoulders and arms were visible even with clothes, and now she could admire the slightly marked muscles of his torso all the way down to the V that disappeared under his pine-green pants. His shoes were off too. 

“Are you blush-” He started, only to be cut by her murderous voice.

“Good night, Cardan.” Taking her cup, she crossed the place with big steps, slamming the bedroom’s door behind her. 

Leaning against the wood, she heard the couch creak as he laid down. Her breathing evened a little a few minutes after. 

Shit, that had been rude. Even if he’d imposed his presence there he was still a guest, her mind scolded her. A really hot guest. No no, don’t think of that now.

As silently as she could she opened the door again. And pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle her laugh at what she saw.  

Cardan’s legs hung over the couch’s arm. Which made sense, considering how tall he was, but right now it only looked bloody ridiculous, and kind of adorable. She tried to ignore the guilt that pierced her heart again. He seemed stiff. An idea shone on her mind. A terrible terrible idea.

“Cardan?” She whispered.

He hummed in response.

She swallowed and walked towards him. “You can’t sleep in there.”

He scoffed and looked at her through hooded eyes, dark and deep made her heart skip a beat. “If you’re trying again to convince me to leave…”

“I’m not.” Jude blurted, passing a hand over her curls. Somehow words seemed to stuck in her throat. “I mean- even when you are completely ignoring me about you not needing to be here… I guess I… What I try to say is-”

“Jude Duarte is babbling. Gods, now I’m intrigued.” He breathed, propping himself on his elbows.

She crossed her arms and tilted her head elusively. It was humiliating how easy it was for him to put her on edge. “Shut up will you? You can’t stay on the couch, it’s small and uncomfortable… And I, well, I happen to own a double bed.” 

Smooth, girl, smooth.

“Trying to lure me into your bed? So soon?” He teased, flashing her a smile, yet his joke didn’t reach his eyes. Something in them was different, they were wider, intense.

“You’re intentionally being an asshole.” She said, gritting her teeth. This time his tricky words and good looks wouldn’t affect her. She couldn’t allow it. “I just meant that we can both sleep there. Like, as far away as the bed allows but at least you could rest.”

For a second he just looked at her. Not mocking or rude, she couldn’t place the expression in his face. His jaw set, chest raising and falling slowly. “You don’t have to, Jude. I’m ok in here.”

“Don’t lie. Besides I’d feel better too. Not because- Ugh, I’d feel better knowing that I could at least make your staying more bearable, I guess.” That wasn’t so bad. Yet. And honestly she couldn’t tell if it was worse if he accepted, or refused. 

Back in her room an awkward silence filled the atmosphere as both laid side to side. Somehow, even if they were not touching, Jude could feel the heat of his skin. Her heart hammered so fast she swore he could listen to it.

“So…” He started.

Panic filled her senses, she needed to cut any conversation before saying or doing something she’d regret later. “There’s no need to mention it, just go to sleep… please.” She rolled onto her side, facing away from Cardan. “Good night.”

Jude barely heard him sigh. “Sweet dreams, Jude.”

~

It was hot. Really really hot. Fuck he couldn’t move. How much had he drank last night?

Wait. No, last night he didn’t go out with Locke. He’d said he would spend the weekend with his girlfriend, at least this month’s. Cardan had stopped mocking him for it long ago. 

Eyes still closed, he grimaced and tried to stretch but something held down his arm. As Cardan became more and more aware of his body, the memories of the day before flashed in his mind. The failed meeting with Jude, the flowers he’d spend almost an hour choosing, her body going limp against him, the useless doctor… Jude offering him her bed to sleep.  

That’s when something tickled his neck, startling him. 

No, not something.

Cardan’s eyes snapped open, he looked down and froze when he realized Jude’s body was pressed flush against him, one of her hands resting on his chest. Somehow their legs impossibly tangled. Terrified, he found his own arm encircling her waist, bare skin touching his fingers since her too big shirt had rolled up in her sleep.  

She shifted a little and her nose brushed his neck again, letting out a small breath that sent hot shivers down his body.

Any knowledge of how to move or think completely forgotten. He stared blankly at the ceiling. 

Fuck fuck fuck shit what the fucking fucks. 

[aphrodites-law]

A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (9/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction. (ao3)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8]

When she opened the café the following week, Clarke didn't expect the first customer to be Gustus. He walked toward her with a slight hunch in his shoulders, holding a large paper bag in front of him.

"Hello, Clarke."

"Hi, Gustus. How are you?"

"Lexa said you were looking for help in the kitchen. Am I too late?"

Clarke blinked in surprise. "Not at all."

Gustus set the bag on the counter. "I don't have much of an education and I don't know proper baking terms. I haven’t worked for anyone in twenty-five years, but I have made and sold baked goods on my family's apiary since my childhood."

He pulled out several containers. "I've brought honey muffins, blueberry tartlets, and a chocolate-walnut pie. Please, have a taste when you can."

"You're… applying to work here?"

Gustus nodded. "I'd like to help in the kitchen."

It was certainly unorthodox, but they had yet to find anyone and Clarke's mouth had already watered at the smell of the pie.  

"Gustus, are you sure this is what you want? The hours can be long and we can't afford to negotiate on salary for now."

"Money doesn't matter to me. I have my own land and grow my own food."

"What about your apiary?"

"A hobby more than a business these days. The market made me realize how much I miss…" His eyebrows furrowed as he thought of the word.

"People?" Clarke guessed.

He stroked his beard. "But not so much that I would leave the kitchen."

Clarke chuckled. "I see why Lexa likes you."

"She may pretend otherwise, but Lexa enjoys company too. She would not write the way she does if it weren’t the case."

"No, I don't suppose she would."

They both looked toward the entrance when a customer walked in. Gustus moved to the side.

"I won't keep you longer. Thank you for humoring an old beekeeper."

"Wells will have the final word, but he's badgered me to get more of your honey so the odds are definitely in your favor."

Gustus inclined his head gratefully, a heartwarming sight given he was a foot taller than Clarke and quite intimidating at first glance.

"Have a good day, Clarke."

"You too. And thanks for the treats!"

* * *

Clarke walked over to Lexa's table later that afternoon, finding her deep in research on her laptop with her half-eaten croissant on her plate. They hadn't been able to speak much between orders, but Lexa had looked her way at times and Clarke had managed to catch her eyes. Each time made her stomach swoop, but Clarke was determined to be the one to surprise her for once.

She put her hand on her shoulder and kissed her cheek.

"Hi, you."

Lexa turned her head with a slight blush. "Hello."

Clarke sat in front of her, propping her chin on her hand. "Oh I get a hello today. Very formal."

"Is hello formal now?"

"With that tone and those glasses? Yes."

Lexa took off her reading glasses. "Am I being kicked out?"

"Not at all. Stay as long as you want. You can even stay after closing hours."

Lexa's eyes fell to her lips- Clarke's knowing grin. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Mm probably not."

Lexa closed her laptop. "So. Saturday. Doors open at 7pm."

Clarke sat up. "I'm excited. Though Wells has already warned me he'll poison my coffee if I drop any spoilers."

Lexa had offered tickets to Lincoln's play again, though this time she had made it very clear she intended it as a date. Clarke was thrilled to go to the theater after so long, especially since the play was fully booked for a solid six months. Nowhere Ground was a critical darling and word of mouth had worked like a charm.

"I was thinking we could hit Cocoa Street after," Lexa suggested. "Try some of the food trucks?"

"A woman after my heart."

Lexa smiled, her hand inching toward Clarke's on the table. "I figured I'd keep the upscale restaurant for our third date."

"Oh there'll be a third date?"

Lexa looked up from their hands, fingers not quite yet touching. "I would hope so."

"Well I don't know, I'll have to see if you have game."

"I thought you'd gotten a preview already." Lexa's fingers brushed against hers.

Clarke bit her lip. "Not that kind of game."

"What kind, Clarke?" Lexa asked smoothly as her thumb brushed over the back of Clarke's hand.  

Clarke shook her head and sat back, letting go of Lexa's hand. "Nu-uh. I'm not falling for that again."

"What's that?"

"That- look. And your voice. You know what."

Lexa let out a small laugh. "I really don't."

"It's like a switch you have. It drives me crazy. But I'm not falling for it. I see you."

"Alright, I'll just be broody and quiet then." Lexa cleared her throat, amused. "Did Gus stop by today?"

Clarke brightened. "Yes. Speaking of, very sneaky of you. Wells is already raving about the chocolate-walnut pie."

"I'm glad. Gus kept asking me if he should make more. I'd never heard him so nervous."

"I didn't even know he baked."

"Never in a professional setting like this, but I can vouch for his impeccable manners. And his food."

"How did you meet him anyway?"

Lexa picked up the last bite of her croissant. "When I was doing research on the Mountain Men, I found out his property is the closest to the bunker site. A few miles down the mountain but still - I figured he had some information that could help me. I introduced myself; said I wanted to honor their story…"

"And you charmed your way into his life," Clarke guessed in a fond tone.  She still had a few minutes before Gaia started side-eying her for flirting on the clock (not that it was a regular instance, but Lexa did come in often these days…) and then got Harper to ask endless questions to fuel their gossip mill. "I'm glad you did. I think he'd fit right in."

Lexa nodded, giving her a soft smile while they lingered in their last few seconds of privacy.

* * *

When Saturday night finally came, Clarke thought she might burst from the anticipation. Lexa lived close to the theater, so Clarke had suggested she be the one to pick her up before they walked over. She'd settled on her fancier boots, tights and a red dress, ever aware of the increasingly cold nights. She had her coat on but left it open when she finally arrived, fully leaning on the power of her own cleavage tonight. Slow didn't mean she couldn't have her fun.

"Wow. Um. Hi," Lexa breathed out as soon as she opened the door, eyes darting south of Clarke's lips.  

"Now I get a hi," Clarke replied with a grin. She extended the flowers she'd brought on the way. "For you."

"Oh they're beautiful," Lexa said, genuinely surprised. Clarke wondered if she’d ever gotten flowers based on that expression alone. "Thank you," Lexa murmured.

"You're welcome," Clarke hummed. She waited for Lexa to come closer to reach for the sleeve of her shirt. "This is new."

"You don't like it?" Lexa asked.

Clarke almost scoffed. She was fairly certain Lexa knew exactly what she was doing, with her tight slacks and her dark green shirt just a hint sheer enough to see the outline of her bra. Paired with her loose curls and faint perfume, Lexa was already making her dizzy and it was incredibly unfair.

"I didn't say that," Clarke replied, pretending not to notice Lexa was going to kiss her. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Lexa frowned briefly, only to smile a second later as she realized what game Clarke was playing. She'd asked for slow and it seemed like Clarke was taking it to heart. Perhaps a bit too much.

"Please, come in."

While Lexa went to find a vase, Clarke looked around. The apartment was on the small side, but during the day it was most likely brightly lit thanks to the two large windows. The balcony was filled with plants and flowers just as Gaia had once told her, but she hadn't mentioned the various hanging pots throughout the living room. Of course she couldn't have known. Clarke wasn’t sure if she was the first date Lexa had invited here since moving, but the progress in their relationship wasn’t lost on her. She’d never imagined being inside Lexa Woods’ apartment; not even when they’d started their little dance. It had seemed like another world. 

Lexa came back with a vase that she set on the table by the window. "They're lovely," she reiterated.

"If I'd known you were so into plants I would've gotten a succulent or something."

Lexa looked around. "Oh those - the hooks were already there when I got here. Indra said the woman before me used to hang candle lanterns. I think she's relieved this place isn't a fire hazard anymore."

"Gaia said you're her favorite tenant."

Lexa smiled sheepishly, but didn't further comment. She glanced at Clarke's neckline before clearing her throat.

"Are you ready?"

Clarke nodded. "Very."

Lexa stepped closer. "You know… I sort of imagined this going differently."

"Oh?" Clarke asked, rooted in place.

"I figured after we'd kissed things would become easier," Lexa explained as she stopped inches from Clarke.

"You imagined us kissing?"

"Yes," Lexa answered honestly. "But I told you that before."

Clarke remembered the confession Lexa had made that night at the café and felt desire pool in the pit of her stomach again. How she’d thought about her; how she’d wanted this- them. She reached for Lexa's shirt, pretending to toy with one of the small buttons.

"It seems like we imagined a lot of things you and I," Clarke replied, swallowing. 

Lexa brushed her nose against hers, testing her. Clarke felt her warm breath on her mouth and nearly tasted sweet mint. Her heart beat loudly in her ears until finally she gave in, tilting her head and pulling Lexa in.

The kiss was slow at first; Lexa's full lips pressing firmly against hers. Then Clarke felt her hand cup her neck and Lexa angle for something else, something deeper. She moaned when their tongues brushed and Lexa played with hers, chasing, teasing, while the lingering smell of the flowers mixed with her perfume and saturated Clarke's senses. It felt like she was drunk.

It wasn't the small hello or goodbye kisses they'd exchanged in the week; the hesitant pecks that had preceded the date that had seemed so far away on Monday.

"Are you sure this play is good?" She asked, slightly dazed.  

Lexa shook her head, kissing her once more. "It's horrible. Mediocre. Let's bail and stay in."

Clarke let out a small laugh before kissing her again, deeper and slower, wondering if her heart would ever calm down tonight.

"If only."

-

[part ten]

[ashleyfanfic]

from bound to be together random prompt 12 or 22 :) thank u so much ❤️

12.    “Give me attention.” As requested, this is set in the bound to be together universe even though I wrote that one with @justwandering-neverlost​.  Quarantine has plagued all of us. It’s getting to the beans, too. ;) *~*

He kept his eyes on his laptop, trying to get the last of his report finished before the deadline. Being locked down for over six months had worn on everyone. He thought working from home would allow him to get more work done, but the truth was, he spent more time trying not to do anything. His co-workers all appeared to be doing something similar. On their last Teams meeting, they’d been told off by their boss that their job performance was lacking of late.  Of course it was. They were all stuck home, no way of socializing with others except through online meetings and emails. There were texts sent back and forth between each other, but even he was ready to be around other people. He couldn’t imagine the hell that Dany was going through being stuck with his dour self. This was having a profound effect on her. 

She tried to stay up beat. He could see it. Their wedding had been postponed indefinitely, much to their chagrin. There was only so much Netflix they could watch. He’d already seen Tiger King, twice. Binged Supernatural, Criminal Minds, Lucifer, and watched more documentaries than he ever had before. Their home gym in the basement had seen an upgrade that included a fancy treadmill and more yoga equipment. Dany found it funny, at first, that he would simply sit on the steps and watch her work out, but after several sexual adventures on the floor, she’d banished him upstairs while she worked out.  And sex. They’d had more than they ever had before. How many times had they been sitting on the sofa, both lazing around when she’d suddenly run her hand up his thigh, bat her gorgeous eyes at him, and they’d end up fucking on the sofa. Or when she poured cereal and he walked up behind her and slip his hand down her yoga pants to find her already wet. He was thankful all those months ago she’d been put on the pill. He couldn’t imagine the money they’d be paying in condoms.  They’d also worked on honey-do lists. They’d added a gorgeous subway tile to their kitchen back splash that they’d ordered from the nearby Home Depot. Bought new rugs from Wayfare. Jon had even built a few new bookshelves for their guest room/office.  Which was where he was currently hiding. Normally, he’d take his laptop down stairs, set up in front of the telly with Dany as she did the same with hers. They’d spend the day snacking, checking emails, and watching something they agreed on, but this deadline hanging over him told him there wasn’t much time for him to sit and socialize with his gorgeous fiance.  He had two paragraphs left when the door opened. “How much longer?” He looked up at her. “Not much. Probably two paragraphs.” She sighed as she leaned against the door frame. “Ugh, I need you to hurry.” “Something wrong?” “No. Not really,” she said as she drifted into the room and skimmed her fingers over the spines of the books. She turned her violet eyes on him. “I want you to come back downstairs. Give me attention.” He smiled. “Believe me, I’d love nothing more. I have to get this done.” “I know,” she huffed and left the room.  He ran a hand through his hair, thinking about what he’d rather be doing with his gorgeous fiance. Maybe he’d spread her out on this desk when he was finished. The thought sparked his fingers to fly over the keys quicker. *~* He had his headphones on for the Teams meeting their boss insisted on. At four thirty on a Friday afternoon. Their reports all turned in, he congratulated them on getting things completed and let them know that they would take next week to review them all. He glanced up momentarily as Dany walked by the door, but she didn’t linger. His boss continued to drone on and he tried to look as if he was paying attention but his thoughts had drifted. She was back in the doorway, only this time she was very naked and his eyes widened, his mouth dropped open, and he was very not listening any more. He looked back at the screen to see if anyone had caught his change in expression, but everyone seemed equally not engaged. He watched her saunter across the room and stand just behind his computer screen and lean her hands on the desk. He hit the mute button on his meeting and kept his eyes on the screen.  “Are you trying to kill me?” “Nope.” “Get me fired?” “Never,” “Then for the love of all that’s holy, please put on some clothes.” She grinned. “I had a better idea,” she said as she sank behind the desk. His cock instantly hardened, knowing exactly what she had in mind.  “Dany, if they see you...” “Scoot closer to the desk and try not to react,” she said as she slid her hands over his thighs. He did as she’d said and when he’d adjusted in his chair, she’d tugged on his sweats and freed his cock. He checked again that he’d muted his microphone, paranoia too much to be ignored. She tugged his pants all the way off and then she was licking the head. He adjusted the chair height, allowing it to sink closer to the floor to give her more room.  He leaned back in his chair a bit, and tried not to react to what she was doing and to listen to his boss and he continued to drone on and on. Telling them he didn’t know when they would be able to return to a physical work location. Thank fuck for that. He couldn’t get his cock sucked at work by Dany. Which she was doing brilliantly, if he did say so himself. Her tongue swirled around the head as her hands stroked over the heated flesh. Oh, he was going to pay her back for this. Bend her over the arm of the chair and fuck her hard. Or take her to the shower and torment her with the wand. He knew how much she loved that. He shifted in his seat as she drifted to his balls, licking and sucking them as well. He hoped her intention wasn’t to make him come while he was on this fucking call. There were a lot of things he could hide, but the way his face contorted he didn’t think was one of them.  “Jon, what do you think?” Oh fuck! They asked him a question. He unmuted his microphone and hoped they couldn’t hear Dany slurping over his cock. “Apologies, I missed the question.” He boss frowned. “We were discussing changing work hours. I said it might be more conducive to have everyone work four ten hour days and have Friday or Monday off. Which would you rather?” “Monday,” he answered quickly, trying to keep his eyes from drifting to look beneath the desk where his girlfriend was earnestly sucking his dick into her mouth. He thought she must have thought it was her mission to distract him from even being able to speak. She was succeeding. He heard a rather loud slurp and muted the microphone again he dropped his hand to the armrest then his lap to slip his fingers into her hair. She hummed around him.  “Alright, that’s all I have. I’ll open the floor for questions.” Please! NO one ask questions.  It was silent and his boss bid everyone farewell and to enjoy their weekend. He logged off, made sure it had disconnected, then closed his laptop. He pulled back from her and she released his cock. “You’re evil,” he panted.  “I told you to give me attention,” she smiled up at him as she ran her thumb over her swollen bottom lip. He crooked his finger at her and she moved on her knees closer to him.  He tore his shirt off and toss it across the room. “Oh, I’m going to give you my attention until you beg me to stop,” he said as he pulled her to stand in front of him, moved his lap top aside and turned her to face the desk. He smacked her arse, then gripped it in both hands. “Bend over, Dany, and don’t lift your hands off that desk.” She did as she was told and he could see the smile on her face. This was what she wanted, and as he lifted her leg to prop on the desk, he was more than happy to give her his undivided attention. Until she screamed for mercy. 

Prompt List

[xathia-89]

Headcanons: Modern Warlords and finding out she’s pregnant

I’ve only done Nobunaga, Mitsuhide, Hideyoshi, Yoshimoto and Shingen 

Nobunaga

Everyone had been eager for him to get home, even Hideyoshi, which was a giveaway that his fireball was up to something. The press and public knew nothing of her, despite the suspicions that when she moved in with him then the rumours that Nobunaga was no longer single would be circulating. He still attends events with a different woman on his arm, or on his own. She always dressed him up and made sure that he looked as handsome as possible and never voiced any problems with the arrangement. Until the last few weeks anyway, and during the latest one, she had gotten so tearful and upset that she had locked herself in the bathroom until he had to leave. He had ended up sending Hideyoshi over to look after her for the time being and she was asleep in their bed when he had made it home.

Getting to their penthouse was east, but even the doorman seemed to know something as he walked into the entrance hall of the apartment block. Then when he got through their front door, she wasn’t in her usual spot on the sofa, hiding from him but there was a plain box wrapped in a ribbon with his name on it and the faintest smell of freesias from her perfume only frustrating him more.

Opening the box gave him more questions, since the sole object enclosed was a memory stick with a note saying to plug it into the television.

The image flickered onto the screen once it loaded. She looked as gorgeous as usual, but something was bothering her from the expression she was wearing, and the way she was playing with the hem of her skirt gave that impression as well before she gave a strained smile.

Hey, I know you expected me home since everyone has practically shove you into our apartment by now. I’ve something to tell you, but it comes with some agreements and adjustments.

The concern on her face worried him, along with the fact that she couldn’t say this straight up to his face.

I had to organise this because you’ve been so busy with work that you’ve missed all of the clues. I’m not blaming you, it’s the nature of you and your work, I’m explaining myself in the situation, and the only other person who knows our exact situation as well is our doctor, who was told he couldn’t tell anyone.

All of the worst-case scenarios were flying through his head. Maybe it was cancer, possibly terminal, or was it an autoimmune problem? Moving could help with this, and definitely a private nurse and doctor.

We’ve got a little princess on the way.

His mind went blank until her rich laughter from the screen brought him back, while holding an ultrasound photo in her hands.

She’s doing well, growing as she should be for how old she is. But there are a few questions I need to know the answer to before we get too far ahead of ourselves.

He felt the sofa dip under her weight, giving her time to settle comfortably before her screen self nodded for him to look at her in person, the screen switching to black. His body turned on automation, an arm supporting his weight over the back of the sofa behind her, and his free hand cupping her damp cheek. She was the type to cry when she was stressed and then cry more because she was mad at herself for crying as his thumb stroked over her skin.

“Please, what are those questions, fireball? Aside from that, I will need to know what you will need for a comfortable pregnancy, and if you are okay with a swift court ceremony the moment I get us a spot and then a big press ceremony when our princess is around nine months old?” The words couldn’t fall out of his mouth quickly enough, watching her facial expressions closely. “I’ll make a public announcement that you aren’t to be bothered, and I’ll assign you a bodyguard who will get his own team together and ensure that you aren’t bothered by the press.”

Her laughter made him stop, in time for him to see the cutest shade of pink creeping up her cheeks. “You just answered them,” she smiled. “I was in love when I found out I was pregnant, I just needed to know if I was doing this on my own with your financial assistance, or if we were in this together.”

Her expression was the cutest, and it made him melt on the inside. He kissed her lovingly, his arm sliding from the sofa to around her back and then lifting her onto his lap.

“Not a chance of you being on your own fireball, and I’ll fire anyone who tries to insist I remove the wedding band to sell anything,” he murmured, nuzzling into her hair.

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

Mitsuhide

He hated some missions some days, and this was definitely one of them. It had been six months since he had last seen, spoken or held her in his arms. He hadn’t been able to even let her know that he would be gone in person, he had been at work and then told by his superiors that he was leaving now for the mission after the briefing. She had told him that morning that she had some news for him after work, and it had turned into six months of hell to find out. Being dismissed by his superior officers was the best feeling he’d had in a long time, though his glare had probably sped up the final briefing as he crossed the grounds to get to the on-base housing.

“Akechi-sama!” A recruit snapped to attention, a blush on his face at being caught lingering around his front garden before a familiar face opened the front door of his house and urgently gestured for him to come in.

“Thank god,” Ieyasu muttered, the blond man who had answered the door leading him through his house. “There were constant rumours that you had defected or died. The idiot couldn’t get out of the house some days for admirers.”

There was an extra layer of venom to Ieyasu’s tone that Mitsuhide didn’t like, never mind that Ieyasu had nicknamed his wife ‘the idiot’ for the entirety of their marriage. Though the idea of anyone bothering his little mouse in his absence was a sour taste in his mouth.

“And this is Daddy terrorising Uncle Hideyoshi,” Mitsuhide froze for a moment before bursting through ahead of Ieyasu into the living room where her voice was coming from.

The focus of the room was on him, captured and still in the moment as his golden gaze was fixated on his wife. She was lounging on the sofa, headphones on a very pronounced bump and hooked up to a laptop playing a video as he crossed the room seamlessly. She was a cycle of emotions before he sat down on the sofa and looked at the screen. It was playing out a video of the previous summer, he was terrorising Hideyoshi at a barbecue in the back garden, his chest swelling with new feelings as he recalled what he had overheard before busting into the room. His arms were around her, and he didn’t trust himself to speak as his friends all smiled and nodded their heads at him in goodbyes, leaving the couple in peace.

His wife had managed to wriggle free, removing the headphones from her bump, tidying them away before Mitsuhide pulled her back onto the sofa, secure in his arms. He nuzzled into her neck, still believing it to be a dream. He could never have dared to hope that this was the news that she had wanted to share. He was absent more than he was present, and she always seemed to be willing to wait for him, even now her fingers were finding those spots on his head that would relax him. It was too good to be true on the surface, this could be a dream still.

“Mitsuhide?” Her voice vibrated through her chest and against his, it was the right pitch, volume and tone for her as he lifted his head from her hair. “I think we need to talk.”

“I assume that this was the thing you wanted to discuss before I left?” He hand was stroking over her bump, trying to keep himself from breaking as he felt a foot collide with his touch.

“I had missed my period, and I wanted your opinion on waiting to get a pregnancy test or not,” her voice was so soft and unassuming, before her hand was on top of his. “I waited until it was clear that you were on an assignment before I went to speak to Ieyasu. He’s kept the bill for you.”

“Not long left then?” He had a lump in his throat at the thought of her going through pregnancy alone, but she was insanely strong like that.

“About three weeks, and then we get to meet our little girl,” she was so happy to share the news with him finally, their fingers entwined as a head butted against them.

“I presume my little mouse has done all the work for her arrival?” He chuckled, nuzzling into her hair as he was in the realm of disbelief over the news. He didn’t have long to prepare mentally for this, but then again he never did with his missions.

“Of course,” her tone was sly, looking up at him. “But, your superiors refuse to believe it’s your child and give you the time off.”

“Mm, well, when she arrives, then I am sure that there will be irrefutable evidence to her patronage,” he smirked before kissing his wife softly.

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

Yoshimoto

She had been off-colour recently, though seeing her at the exhibition that she had mostly inspired was also the thing that made him realise just how much she was bothered by it. He had to admire how much she was playing nice with the pervy old men who sponsored him as a way of finding new mistresses at these events. Natsuki had a way with words on turning them down, and it had only turned nasty on a handful of occasions. Mostly they would end up flattered to have met her, have an enlightening conversation and then come to find him and praise him for having such an intelligent partner. It made sense for her glass to be filled with ginger beer, as she loitered near one of his sculptures, tilting her head as though she was absorbing her interpretation of it.

He wanted nothing more than to show her off to the room, but he had to suck it up as he was stuck in a conversation with a few of his long standing sponsors. He was mostly discussing the turbulence that had surrounded Japan and influenced his works, but the sound of a slap silenced everyone and made the room look straight to the source of the sound.

Natsuki was looking mortified, her hand over her mouth in shock at what she had done since his cheek was flushed red from the strike. He didn’t recognise the man standing over her, but it took the room a few seconds to start murmuring with their presumptions while Yoshimoto was making his excuses and heading straight for her.

“You ought to have her thrown out! Terrible behaviour when all I did was ask to buy her a drink,” the stranger immediately began to launch into a rant the moment he approached.

“Are you okay?” Yoshimoto asked her, realising that she was shaking as well when he was closer.

She shook her head. “He was trying to get me to leave with him, he was on about getting to know him better and he was lavishing on the features of his hotel room,” her ramblings were displaying her vulnerability. Yoshimoto was never one for public affection at the viewings, but his arms were around her, stroking her back as he glowered at the stranger. “He was saying that I needed to be nice to him and be a good girl because he knows people and that he would make my life difficult if I didn’t sleep with him. Then after I first refused, he was saying I should be used to whoring myself out because I’m an artist and that’s how I’ll really get my patrons to afford to eat. He said that getting my work shown is good, but I should suck him off and then his friends, and then I’ll get rich the way a girl like me should be.”

It was impossible to avoid not knowing what had happened at that point. He could hear most people displaying their distaste, and even more shifting uncomfortably to see the intimate gestures between him and Natsuki.

“I’d not associate yourself with her any more, she will drag you down to the degenerate level that all artists thrive on,” the stranger sneered, before one of the sponsors was able to make his way over and insert himself into the conversation.

“Mr Ito!” The sponsor smiled broadly. “May I introduce you to Natsuki Saito, the heiress of Saito Fashions, and to the star of the event, Yoshi?”

The expression on Mr Ito’s face fell rapidly, as he realised the assumptions that had been made were all wrong.

“I must admit that when I heard the name Yoshi I did assume that Natsuki was the artist at first as well, until her father explained that his future son-in-law was seeking some sponsorship to spread his work. Mr Saito was full of nothing but praise for Yoshi, and how Natsuki had worked so hard to ensure that their relationship met all of his terms for his blessing. So I know what Miss Saito is like, Mr Ito, and for her reaction to have been so extreme, then I do also believe her story. Which isn’t the first I’m hearing of your behaviour. All of our business has been conducted under certain good faith clauses, but this is very much coming into doubt especially since you’ve begun to deflect all payment requests to my payment departments while continuing to keep all of your income,” the conversation began to fade into the background as Yoshimoto walked himself and Natsuki out onto a small and private balcony for some fresh air.

“I’m sorry,” was out of her mouth before he could stop her.

He wrapped his arms back around her, bringing her flush to him as he kissed her forehead. “You have nothing to apologise for, but it’s very unusual behaviour for you.”

“I found out I’m pregnant this morning,” she blurted out, before blushing furiously.

Laughter was his knee jerk response, he couldn’t stop himself before he squeezed her tightly. She was the only person on this planet that he would even have considered having a kid with, but it just had never been a conversation that they had ever had in all of their years of dating as she pouted up at him. “I’m sorry, but that was the cutest way of telling me,” he chuckled, kissing her hair. “Is that why you’ve been so strange for the past few weeks?”

“Yeah,” she admitted reluctantly and buried her face into his chest before she remembered that she was wearing makeup and groaned in defeat.

“Let’s go home, I think my sponsors can take care of things,” he smiled and kissed the top of her head.

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

Hideyoshi

Late nights and long shifts were the norm. She knew that it would be lonely at times when they met at university, but now they were both flourishing in their chosen careers. At the moment, it wasn’t something that she appreciated while she was sat on the sofa, picking her lip from nervousness and watching the sunrise while waiting for him to get off a sixteen-hour shift. Normally, it could and would have waited until after she came home from work so they would both be rested, but sleep was the last thing on her mind.

“Natsuki?” His footsteps were rushed from the front door of their small apartment, a frown on his face as he knelt down in front of her, checking her over visually for signs of illness. Then his gaze fell on what was tightly clenched in her hand.

The deer in headlights look wasn’t one she saw often on him. He saw all sorts of scenarios at work, but it wasn’t him that was affected by the situation, her hand beginning to reluctantly uncurl from around the object. The puzzle pieces began to fall into place. It hadn’t been food poisoning, she had been moodier than usual and her clothes weren’t shrinking.

“Have you seen a doctor?”

He would jump to that, as she picked up the letter next to her with the hospital’s header on top of it. The results in black and white for them both to see.

“I went yesterday morning, after taking a test before you came home from work. But, I still didn’t believe that, so I took this one last night after work,” she explained quietly. “They’ve booked in a scan for next week, first thing in the morning just after your shift ends. I gave them your name as the father and this slot magically appeared after they tried to say it needed to be the middle of the day.”

“It’ll take no time at all then for my colleagues to be teasing me,” he was smiling widely as she finally lifted her head.

“I thought you didn’t want kids just yet, that your career wasn’t as stable as you would like?”

“No, but you’re pregnant right now, and I can’t see anyone but you being the mother of my children,” his joy was barely contained, kissing her on the head as she was frozen in confusion. “We’ll need to make sure everything is sorted. Maybe look at moving sooner rather than later, and school areas are definitely a cause for concern,” he was already miles ahead of her, shattering all of her fears as she laughed brightly. “What?”

“You’re such a mother,” she giggled, wrapping her arms around him.

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

Shingen

When she remembered the tabloid stories about him, it always made her nervous. He came from money and constantly had models, pop stars and influential people falling over him. He was gorgeous, men and women alike would fawn over him as she twirled a lock of hair around her finger before a ‘tsk’ noise made her jump.

“Yukimura would kill him if he did anything,” Kenshin scoffed, shaking his head at the television that was currently playing the music awards ceremony. Managers almost never managed to get any kind of spotlight, but Shingen just attracted attention by nature. It had gotten to the point that he had hired a security detail for the pair of them by default. “You’re the only girl that hasn’t made any scenes or drama for the sake of headlines and attention, and Shingen has stayed completely faithful to you.”

“Did you tell him where we really went yesterday?”

“I’m not Yukimura,” Kenshin scowled, pouring himself out a large sake, and then carried a fresh bottle over with him to sit with her on the sofa. “But don’t delude yourself that Shingen won’t know something is wrong with you.”

“He doesn’t need me adding to his worries,” she snapped back, arms folded over a bloated stomach after she leant back into the sofa cushions.

“That’s for him to decide,” Kenshin replied, sitting at the opposite end of the furniture, before the chaos on the screen, caught both of their attentions. The two were fixated as a rising starlet was trying to throw herself at Shingen, shrieking loudly and demanding that he acknowledged the pregnancy results in her hand.

He was as graceful as ever in the face of accusation, but paused and the facade seemed to crack as he read the sheet. It was passed to Yuki, the two muttering and the smaller man shaking his head before Shingen was looking at the intruder again.

“What’s your name?” He wasn’t as put together as usual, and it was going to make stories regardless of what the outcome was here.

“Yuka Saito,” she proudly announced, apparently glad to be getting her five minutes of fame.

“Which means these results aren’t yours,” Shingen was looking down the camera, he always told them to watch a specific station each time he was on the television and she knew why now. “Kenshin, keep yourself parked on my couch with her.”

Everyone was startled by the sharp change in demeanour, not that it stopped all the photos being taken. The speed at which Yukimura had the car already brought to Shingen and then speeding off down the road had everyone with slack jaws. Then the reporters started buzzing with news of ‘her’, trying to work out who could possibly have the playboy manager on a leash.

Kenshin didn’t care that he was in trouble, he simply changed the channel they were watching on the screen after closing all the curtains around the penthouse apartment.

“Natsuki!” was bellowed the second the door was thrown open before Shingen came storming into the living room. “What did I tell you about going to public hospitals?”

“That’s what you’re choosing to be mad about at this moment?!” She yelled back in disbelief, standing up from the sofa.

“Right now, yes!” He frowned. “I told you when we went public that this sort of thing was liable to happening,” Shingen sighed, his hand running through his hair. “Kenshin, I’m revoking your sake and pickled plum tab for a month, and I’ll make it a year if you slip up before the baby has their first photoshoot released.”

“Wait, what?” Natsuki was frowning in confusion, before Shingen had his arms around her, stroking her back and burying his head into the crook of her neck. He was making sure she was okay while coming down from his own adrenaline high. “I thought we agreed that this would be nothing serious-”

“Natsuki, nothing serious was over the moment we fell into bed together,” his head was lifted, and his hands were cupping her cheeks now with a faint blush over his cheeks. She could feel Kenshin smirking at her from behind, and Yukimura was trying to look anywhere but at them. “You haven’t left my apartment for longer than a day, and I can’t remember the last time you did anything more than collect things out of your apartment never mind sleep there.”

“I assumed that you wouldn’t want a baby given your lifestyle and the type of job you have,” she trailed off, playing with his tie.

“And I would give that all up, because I know I am in love with you. It’s only been you for more than two years now, more than that really. You know me. You knew what was going on and what my reputation was, and you never once pressured me into changing when we were casual for the eighteen months before that. You don’t try to change things that would make me unhappy, but there is one thing I’d love to change about you,” he paused, and smiled as she went to object. “Your last name,” Shingen was soon down on one knee in front of her, holding her hand as he looked up at her in earnest.

Natsuki was crying like a baby, throwing her arms around him instantly. “Yes! You impossibly smooth buffoon!” She cried, clutching at his jacket.

His chuckle was low, the two cradled close together as Shingen lifted her up and moved them both to sitting on the sofa again. Yukimura and Kenshin were back to checking the security as he held her close, the unease banished from them both for now.

[softboywriting]

Welcome To The Pack | Mendes Triplets Series | Part Nine | Shawn’s Ending

Summary: You’re a human who has moved in with the Mendes triplets as their newest housemate. You’ll have to learn to navigate life with werewolves, college classes, and your feelings for each guy. [fluff]

Word Count: 2.4k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Shawn has a game against the college's long time rivals, the Cavaliers. He's nervous, been pacing the house all day. It's easily the biggest game of the season. You've been trying to get him out of his head all day, telling him it's just a game, that his team is incredible. You know he's stressed because he's the captain. It's on his shoulders to lead his team to victory.

"Do you wanna go somewhere with me?" Shawn asks around noon after hours upon hours of fretting.

"Like where?" You ask, curious to see what he has in mind. Anything would be better than his fretting.

"The diner. I uh...I used to have this tradition of going for milkshakes before games when I was in the local league as a kid." Shawn rubs his neck. "I stopped a few years back because I started getting into working out and it didn't fit in with my diet and...it's a stupid reason really. Anyway. Will you go with me?"

"Sure." You push your laptop off your legs and get up to grab your shoes. "Are you paying? I don't have a ton extra this month and-"

"I got it." He offers his hand and you take it to balance yourself as you pull your boots on. "It'd be rude to make you pay when I invited you out."

"Well, you'd be surprised. Some guys are real jerks about that."

Shawn wraps his arm around your shoulders. "Some guys are dicks. Well, most guys, but you probably know that. I try no to be a dick."

"You aren't Shawn, no worries. Let's go, I could use a chocolate shake and some fries."

___________________

At the diner you and Shawn sit in the far corner booth away from everyone else. It's a little drafty due to the old windows but it's fine. Shawn notices you shivering despite your sweatshirt and peels off his hoodie for you, passing it over the table.

"Thanks." You put it on and it smells like fresh laundry and his cologne. It's the best combination of floral linen scented detergent and heady rich sandalwood. You aren't sure if he's gonna get this thing back later.

"Oh man, they have a cinnamon roll shake for the holidays." Shawn points to the menu where it's listed. "I have to get it. Are you getting chocolate? Because we could share?"

"Yeah, and fries. I like to dip the fries into the shake."

"You're a freak."

"Me? Take a look in the mirror Captain Canine."

Shawn's jaw drops and you smirk. "You’re ice cold. That is such a low blow."

"I'm teasing, I figured you could handle it." You reach across the table and poke his chest. "A big wolf like you, you could take a few jabs to the ego."

He chuckles and pushes you hand away. "Mmm and I can serve them just as good."

"Oh? Dish it up then."

He shakes his head. "I won't do that to you. I care about you too much to insult you mindlessly. I will draw the line at fries in a shake though. Inexcusably freakish."

"Don't knock it until you try it."

The waitress comes over and takes your orders, giving Shawn a few looks that make you feel a little uncomfortable, like she’s sizing him up to prey upon later. She walks away with a hairflip, a giggle and a very unnecessary squeeze of Shawn's shoulder. You watch her like a hawk as she disappears into the kitchen. 

"You alright?" Shawn asks, hand waving in front of you.

"Yeah. Just...thinking." You turn your gaze to him and he leans his head on his chin, a single floppy curl hanging down between his eyes. He's due for a trim, he's starting to look more like Peter with that mop of hair. "You need a haircut."

"Uh uh. I wanna grow it out." He runs a hand through it and pulls it all the way up between his fingertips. "I want a sweet man bun."

"Oh no, Shawn no."

"Yes! Come on. I'd look so hot." He gathers his hair and twists it up into a tiny pouf between his fingers. "You love it."

"I do not. You look like a doofus. The headband for working out is ridiculous enough."

"Awww you're not nice. I love my headband."

You roll your eyes and he laughs. "Whatever you wanna do I guess."

"I'll cut it. I promise. It's getting in my eyes. I can't wear the headband under my helmet anyway, it's not comfortable. Maybe tomorrow I'll make an appointment. Anyway, what were you staring at the waitress for?"

"Nothing."

"It was not nothing. Are you jealous she was flirting with me?"

You roll your eyes but you don't deny it. You are definitely jealous.  

"You are." Shawn coos teasingly. "It's alright, I get jealous too sometimes."

"Of what?"

"You." He chews his lip and before you can ask him why the waitress returns with your orders.

You smile at her and ask for two extra straws, clearly stating you'll be sharing both milkshakes together. Shawn reaches across the table and threads his fingers between yours. He smiles at the waitress and then you. The waitress looks down and she seems to take the hint that her flirting is not welcome.

You don't want to jump back into the jealousy conversation afraid that you might be wrong about Shawn's intentions. He doesn't seem to be playing games and he obviously had no problem showing the waitress he wasn't interested. But still...the lingering fear of rejection remains.

"So, are you still worried about the game?"

Shawn sips his shake and nods. "Always. Nerves means you care. If I wasn't fretting about it I'd be too cocky and that's not how you win games. I've got nerves, but they're good nerves."

"Well, I'm glad we could do something to help." You dip your fries into your chocolate. "Wanna try?"

"Gross. Sure." Shawn says as he opens his mouth and closes his eyes. "Do I have to finish it?"

"Yes." You giggle and pop the two fries in his mouth. "Enjoy it."

"It's weird."

"Says the guy who must drink milk when we have spaghetti."

"Okay, that's a real thing though!" He covers his mouth and swallows. "I am not the only one."

"Fries in shakes is a thing too. Ever heard of Wendy's frosties and fries? It's a thing there."

Shawn rolls his eyes and you steal his shake in retaliation. He tries to get it back but you start sucking it down. "Hey! That's- alright then!" He steals your fry basket and starts eating them quickly like a crazed man.

You end up snorting while laughing causing milkshake comes out of your nose, in turn making him laugh as well and gag on the fries. The two of you break out laughing so hard you're crying. You don't care if people stare at you for making noise. Shawn's smile, his eyes, his laugh, everything in that moment radiates pure love. Maybe you're not wrong about how he feels. Maybe...maybe you should let him know how you feel.

____________________

You've done all you can to get Shawn to shake the nerves and before you part ways at the entrance to the ice rink, you give him a hug. He's got all his gear in a bag over his shoulder and he drops it in favor of holding you tight.

"You're gonna do great." You say, face smushed into his chest. "I promise you're gonna beat them. I'm your good luck charm remember?"

"Yeah," he laughs, pressing his nose into your hair. "I've won every game you have come to."

"Mmmhmm. And you'll win this one."

"I hope so." Shawn pulls back and smiles down at you. "I'll try not to look for you so much."

"You better not. I'll stay in the same spot."

"Actually," Shawn drops down on one knee and digs in his gear bag. "Here." He pulls out a jersey and hands it to you. "I can find you with this on."

"Don't you have to wear this?" You ask, taking the lump of fabric. You hold it up, turning it over to see MENDES printed on the back.

"It's my practice jersey. I know I gave you one for my first game but that one didn't have my name on it."

You grin, pulling it on over your sweater. "How's it fit?"

Shawn steps forward and bites his lip. "Looks good. Turn?" You do as he asks and he runs his hand over the name on the back. "Looks real good on you."

"Yeah? Feels kinda big."

"I meant the name."

"Oh." Your heart skips before going into overdrive, realizing he is flirting.

Shawn moves back around to face you and he's pink cheeked. "I have to go."

"Good luck." You lean forward to kiss his cheek and he cups your jaw as you pull away. For a moment your eyes meet and he looks like he's about to return the kiss. "Shawn?"

"Yeah?"

"You gotta go."

He guides your head up as he leans down to kiss your forehead. "I know." He pulls back and grabs his bag. "Oh, one more thing, earlier at the diner I wanted to ask you because I wasn't sure but...was that a date?"

"Do you want it to be a date?"

A little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and he looks just a bit more pink in the cheeks. "Would it be okay if I did?"

"Yes." You smile, looking down at his jersey on your chest. "Go, we can discuss this later."

Shawn groans and looks to the locker room doors and back at you, as if torn between playing the game or spilling his heart out more. "But-"

"Go!" You laugh and shoo him away. "We have forever to talk, but the game is now."

"Alright alright." He turns and heads for the locker rooms, glancing back only once and you give him a stern look that makes him chuckle.

Your stomach is doing backflips and the second he's out of sight you let out a little jump of excitement. He is interested. He is. You aren't wrong. You grip the front of his jersey and take a deep breath before heading into the seating area.

______________________

The game is incredible. It's a hard back and forth between the two teams. It comes down to the wire, the last shot being scored by Shawn with only six seconds left on the clock. The arena's cheers were deafening, everyone screaming and shouting for the team and Shawn. You're so proud of him, and when he looks for you in the crowd, you can only smile at him until your face hurts.

In the hall post game you wait, back against the cold bricks while Shawn and the team get undressed and ready to face the fans milling around in the hall surrounding you. Tonight is going to be a massive party, you already know of several going on. No doubt Shawn will want to go to some. You're just waiting to see him off, talk to him a little about earlier and tell him how amazing he played.

Two girls approach you, it's two of the ones from his first game that he declined invites from. They don't look too friendly.

"So, are you like Shawn's sister or something?" The taller one, a blonde, asks rudely.

"No. I live with him. We're housemates."

"Right...so did he give you that jersey?"

You look down at his huge jersey over your sweater. "Yes? I'm wearing it to support him and the team? What about it?"

The blonde rolls her eyes. "We figured you were dating him because usually the guys give their jerseys to their girlfriends. No idea why a girl like you would catch his eye though."

"It's none of your business if Shawn and I are dating, but thanks for that unwanted input."

"You-"

"Hey," Shawn's voice comes from behind the girls and they turn around, giggling over him. He's got on a fresh pair of clothes and his hair is damp from the showers. "You ready?"

"Y-yeah." You clear your throat and push down the angry tears that are threatening to bubble out from the rude girl. It's not that you want to cry, it's just that when you get angry it happens.

Shawn wraps his arm around you and walks you away while ignoring the other girls as they begin to attempt to talk to him. "Are you sure? You seem upset."

"I'm fine." You touch his jaw that's got a bruise starting on it, inspecting his soft skin. "You played amazing. I couldn't take my eyes off of you."

Shawn stops just outside the exit doors. He smiles and presses his cheek into your hand a bit. He leans down close and suddenly it feels very intimate. "I couldn't have done it without you." His eyes flick down to your lips and then back up. "You're my good luck charm after all."

"Yeah."

"Earlier today...were you flirting with me?" He whispers softly, head ducked close to you.

"Yeah, a little."

"If you're up for it...I'd like to see where this goes."

Your heart races and he grins big. "I'd like that."

"Good." He leans in, nose touching yours. "Can I?"

Your voice is barely a whisper but you manage a clear, "Yes."

"You're sure?"

You ball your fists in his shirt and nod just a little bit. With that he presses his lips to yours. He's soft, lips warm and plush. Your eyes fall closed and you can hear people shuffling out the door nearby. Shawn smiles, teeth pressing against your lips.

"I've been wanting to do that forever."

You open your eyes and they meet his, pure golden brown. "Me too."

Raul and Peter pull up in Shawn's Jeep and honk at the two of you. Shawn let's out a snarl, baring his teeth at his brothers for rushing him.

"Let's go! Parties are waiting!" Raul yells from the passenger side window.

Shawn lets out a soft growl, focusing on you instead of his brother. "Can I do it again?"

"Please?" You giggle and he leans in, kissing you and smiling against your lips. "Let's go."

"Mmm, I can’t wait to show off my girl who helped me win the game tonight." Shawn says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and heading to the Jeep.

"’Bout time," Peter laughs as you crawl in the back seat with Shawn in tow.

Raul looks back and smiles, shaking his head. "Hey gave you his actual jersey? Shit, he's serious."

"Damn right." Shawn growls, tugging you in and pressing his nose to your hair. You wrap your arm around his and he grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles. You smile, not able to hold it back. You couldn't be happier.

End 

______________________

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed this and reblog to support and encourage myself and fellow writers. Next part coming soon! - A

Custom header per part made by the incredible delicateshawn

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

[lovelyladyventress]

Tell me which one of these AUs sounds the most interesting and which one you’d like to read more about? (uhh rep0st?)

I’m reposting this since TUMBLR HATES MY POST/TAGS OR SOMETHING, SORRY IF YOU’VE ALREADY SEEN THIS!

Here I am, back at it again with my AU bullshit. Complete with my ugly ass dauntingly long list of AUs that I’d love to write about but can’t seem to 

decide which one to start writing. This has been going on for the past week, dammit! If it’s not too much trouble, could you please help a girl out and let me know either on here or in a PM which one of these you’re curious about or would like to see implemented in an actual story.

Here are four Cloud-centric AU ideas which include (multiple) gay, bi, and (some) straight main/side pairings. Regardless of which one I decide to write first, I (wistful thinking) want to eventually complete most or all of them, even if some of them only end up being one-shots. Thank you! <3

Mercenary Zack and Delivery Boy Cloud AU

Zack, a mercenary, and Cloud, a delivery boy, have been best friends since they were youngsters. Zack is straight but is undeniably (and confusingly into Cloud. Cloud is bi (with a strong leaning towards males) and he’s only recently started to explore that. One day, while Zack and Cloud are hanging out, Zack’s PHS dies and he asks to borrow Cloud’s laptop to check some work-related emails. Cloud says sure, completely forgetting what he’d been “researching” before Zack came over to hang out.

Cloud, suddenly remembering the content of said “research”, screeches out, “NoOoOoO!” whilst comically tripping over himself as he races to stop Zack from opening his laptop.

Zack, being Zack, laughs good-naturedly at Cloud’s behavior and says, “What, don’t want your bestie to see all your fReAkY sHiT LOL?”

Before Cloud can stop him, Zack unlocks the laptop (he knows the password, because, hello, besties) and proceeds to open up about ten tabs of LOUD GAY LEMONY YOU KNOW WHAT (all with actors that are blond and black-haired, hmm s u s p i c i o u s).

Cloud is fucking mortified and literally RUNS out of his own apartment and disappears (disintegrates) into the void while leaving Zack sitting there like a stunned D U M B A S S *insert shocked Pikachu meme here* Hilarity, fluffy romance, and “LeMoNs” ensue.

Main ship and only ship will be Clack/Zakkura. Syrupy sweet, comical, with only a pinch of plot-related angst. Will most likely be a one-shot/two-shot.

Vampire Slayer AU

Set in a world where Shinra keeps the existence of vampires and vampire covens a well-guarded secret from the general public of Midgar in order to keep its citizens calm, orderly, and manageable (see controllable).

Due to the frequency of recent vampire attacks in Midgar’s slums and outlying towns and villages, they charge their best slayer, Cloud Strife, and his partner with the task of finding and killing the progenitor of all vampire-kind in order to end the covert war between humans and vampires and kill off their kind, for good.

That is, until Cloud is double-crossed by his partner, who wants the title of Shinra’s best vampire slayer for himself, and Cloud is left for dead in a forest miles away from civilization. Cloud thinks he’s finally done for this time, until he’s saved by a half-vampire named Vincent, who then proceeds to take Cloud to his maker, Sephiroth, the son of the first progenitor.

Cloud’s only shot at making it out of this alive is playing at Sephiroth’s personal interest in him in a game of cat and mouse until he can get the vampire to trust him enough to let him get close to the progenitor in order to (finally) end the war once and for all and return to his former life.

Main ships are Sefikura with a possibility of some Strifentine. Side ships are Aerti, Scarlet x Elena, and a bunch of others. Angsty, passionate, romantic, and dark. Will probably be a six-shot or more. Who knows?

Life After Meteorfall Canon Divergence AU (I’m excited about this one)

An AU in which both Angeal, Zack, and Aerith (although, just barely) live and help kick Sephiroth’s ass in the final battle. Sephiroth has been defeated by the gang for good (no really, for good y’all), and now the world has turned to healing, mourning, and attempting to rebuild itself after the scars Sephiroth has left behind in his monstrous wake.

Cloud still has lingering feelings for Zack leftover from his time as an infantryman, but desperately hides this fact from both Aerith and Zack because he knows how long they’ve waited and how much suffering they’ve had to endure in order to be with each other. He also cares deeply for both of them and wants them to be happy, despite his own conflicting emotions.

Although Aerith is (slightly) suspicious, Zack is oblivious to it all because he’s finally got the girl of his dreams and has his love-addled goggles on (god dammit Zackary) and asks Cloud to be his best man at their wedding (ugh angst me upppppp baby).

Angeal, however, is not oblivious to it in the slightest. He sees the overly forced smiles, the longing stares, the glances of complete and utter h e a r t b r e a k Cloud shoots Zack when he thinks no one is watching/paying attention to him. And finally, fed up after months of sitting back and just silently observing Cloud falling into emotional ruin, Angeal finally intends to do something about it, honor be damned.

Main ship is Cloudgeal. Side pairings are Zerith, Rude x Tifa (don’t judge me, y’all, I ship SO MUCH this fandom), and possibly many more. Angsty, fluffy, romantic, and with a ridiculously happy ending where everyone reaches a happy, healthy understanding. Will most likely be either a three-shot or a six-shot.

Omegaverse SOLDIER AU (let me liveeeeeee, dammit!)

After failing to get into SOLDIER three times in a row (the max amount of times one can attempt in their lifetime) and having his childhood dream of becoming a hero shattered like glass, Cloud, a Beta cadet, is more than done with SOLDIER and everything to do with the corrupt Shinra Corporation (Uh huh. Suuuuure).

This opinion is only further solidified when Cloud discovers the tragic fate of his hometown: Nibelheim, in an “unprecedented” explosion of its Mako Reactor, burns to the ground, resulting in the deaths of Cloud’s mother and every single person Cloud grew up with. With no home to return to, Cloud, following his best friend Zack Fair’s advice, begrudgingly decides to join the Shinra military as an infantryman and work as a menial grunt for the military’s more prominent SOLDIER members.

That is, until one day during a mission Cloud’s entire unit, including a group of skilled Third and Second Class SOLDIERS assisting them, are slaughtered in a brutal, bloody conflict, leaving Cloud the only one left alive after the mission’s end.

This not only catches the eye of the Director of SOLDIER himself, but several of its First Class members, who are so impressed with the Beta’s strength that they wish to assess Cloud’s capabilities for themselves, personally. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

This leads Cloud down a path filled with convincing lies and hard truths as he discovers the reality of his origins, unveiling secrets about Shinra and his past that he could have gone a lifetime without knowing. He realizes the hard way that sometimes what you dream for, what you desperately wish for, isn’t always something you want in the long run.

Main ships are a tie between Sefikura and Clack/Zakkura (possibly Sephiroth/Cloud/Zack or maybe even a love triangle, ew). I also really wanna try writing out Strifesodos, but I’m leaning towards Banorashipping as a side ship in this cuz its cute and passionate.

A S T R O N G side ship in this is going to be Aerti (featuring Turk!Tifa and Full Cetra!Aerith), along with minor ships like Scarlet x Elena, Tseng x Rufus, and honestly who  knows anymore, lol. This will most likely be the longest story on the list, I’m planning for at least ten+ chapters.

Also, not shaming it in any way, but just FYI for the people who are interested, there will be no pregnancy in this story. It’s just not my thing. <3

Again, all of these AU’s are subject to change, but I’d love to bounce ideas back and forth and see what certain shippers would like to see in the fandom. I’m really receptive to discussing fics in general, even if its an idea about one of your own stories you wanna talk about. :)

If you actually read all of that, THANK YOU KINDLY! <33333

[wayward-mikaelson]

Come Back pt 4

Word Count: 2997

Characters: Dean, Sam, and Reader

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader (laying next to each other)

About: The Reader and Dean have been having lots of hot sex, to Sams knowledge who pretends he doesn’t care. But all that crumbles when the Reader finds Dean with another woman. Sam does damage control and when Dean finds out, he isn’t happy.

18+ CONTENT so if you are younger SCROLL ALONG.

Warnings: Bondage, Smut, Protective Sex, Angst, Language, Cheating, Fluff, Fighting

A/N: If you want to be tagged in future posts let me know in the comment below!

ENJOY

I yank at the restraints that bound me to the bed until my wrists hurt. What the hell kind of knot is this? I think in between gasps as Dean licks up whatever slick mess is left over from my orgasm. I look down to see Dean kiss the inside of my thigh. He slowly crawls up kissing my stomach, kissing both of my breasts, kissing my neck and then my jaw line, only to tease a kiss to my lips with his. He lingers them above mine for a few seconds longer than he normally does. I lift my head up and take his bottom lip with my teeth. Dean reacts by thrusting into me without warning causing me to scream out.

"Oh my god," I breath out and drop my head down on the pillow. I love when he did that but I knew what was next. Dean normally pulls out just as fast. I quickly wrap my legs around him and tighten them so he wouldn't pull away. "I got you now," I say managing to use all my body weight to roll the both of us over. Which is nearly impossible but after a few attempts I'm on top of up him but not much can happen since my hands are still bound together.

"I was not expecting that," Deans face shows that he is even more turned on. I feel him twitch inside of me. He reaches up without breaking eye contact with me and loosens the rope. His first mistake. I pull back and take and rope and tie his hands up. In the same exact knot. I slowly begin to roll my hips up and down. I watch his eyes close and as he tighten his jaw. Dean tries to pull his hands free as I feel him trying to take over to finish himself off.

"Now you know what that feels like," I saying leaning in to brush my lips along his jawline to his neck. I start to feel his body twitch and tense up. I knew that he was close. I begin to pick up the pace only to hear the rope snap and have Deans arms around me and sitting up thrusting a few times before falling back down.

"I need you to take over more often," Dean says rubbing my back as I roll off him.

"I need to find a rope that wont snap," I say looking at the remains of the rope.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. "I got a case," Sams voice is on the other end. "If you two are done in there, we should talk about checking it out."

"Well," Dean gets up and gets dressed. I follow suit and before leaving the room, Dean has me up on the wall pressing his lips hard on mine. He pushes his tongue passed my lips and I feel myself get excited. "That's for probably the best orgasm I've ever had." Then Dean leaves the room leaving me collecting myself before seeing Sam out there.

Since Sam found out that Dean and I were sleeping together, he said he didn't care and that he had dropped the chasing. But I can tell in his eyes that whenever he looks at me, he wishes that it was him pleasuring me and not his brother. So, Sam would try and avoid me and when he couldn't, he wouldn't acknowledge me. I pretend that this doesn't bother me and most of the time having sex with Dean helps. But on the nights that I don't, I think about Sam and contemplate leaving the boys. But I don't.

I make my way to the library where Dean and Sam are huddled over Sams laptop. Sam looks up and I can  see the pain still but, at least he gives me a small smile. I return the smile. Maybe he's slowly accepting the idea that he and I won't ever be a thing. "So," I say sitting across from them, "Where and what is this case?"

"Looks like simple shifter case, in downtown Chicago." Sam says leaning back and crossing his arms. "Some people have reported seeing a dead loved one or someone who had died recently and once they caught up to them, a pile a goop was all they would find."

I nod. "I'm down for this." I lean my arms on the table. I see Sam takes a deep breath and his eyes look away from mine. Dean is too busy looking at the laptop to notice so I lean back in my seat. "We haven't been on a case in almost two months. We really need to get out. I'm sure we all are rusty on our fighting skills."

"Agreed," Dean says getting up and making his way towards the kitchen. "I've been itching to shoot at something."

*****************************************************************************************

Right at seven in the morning we load everything into the impala and take off. For the next eleven hours it's Deans music, the smell of gas station burritos, and small talk when the music got annoying. We rolled into the motel parking lot right at six. Just in time to check in and get settled before going over the plan for tomorrow.

"I think our best shot is having YN and you talk to the police while I go out and talk to those who made reports," Sam says leaning back in the chair.

"Sounds like a plan," Dean says getting up and grabbing his jacket. "I would like to check out the local bar around the corner. YN, would you like to come with me?" Dean looks at me with that smile he know I love.

"Sure, let me get out of these clothes and into something fresh," I get up and grab my bag and make my way to the bathroom.

"Sweetheart," Dean says looking me up and down. "You look hot. Just go as is and if anyone gives you shit, I'll kick their ass."

I look down at my clothes. I'm wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. On any other night, I would be okay but, "That's sweet," I say walking into the bathroom. "But, I have been on the road for eleven hours with the both of you and after you guys get some of those gas station burritos, well, its gross. I need to get it all off me."

The boys stare me. "Okay, then, just wear something nice and a little flashy." Dean eyes the lace underwear that had fallen out of the bag.

"Screw off Winchester," I say grabbing it up off the floor giving Dean a playful smile. "Save me a seat at the bar."

"Will do," Dean dips out of the room.

After my shower I dress in something light. I throw my hair up into a hair tie because a few drinks in, Dean and I were most likely going to end up in the alley way behind the bar. I make my way towards the door when Sam stops me.

"Hey," he says gently. "I'm sorry for being a dick. Truce?"

"What brought this on?" I ask pocketing my wallet.

"I see the way Dean makes you happy. I see the way he looks at you. I see it all and I don't think I can compare to that." Sam doesn't make eye contact with me. "So I'm sorry."

"Sam...I don't know what to say," I take a step towards him but he turns to me and smiles.

"Go have fun tonight, for me okay?"Sam waves me on and I get this gut feeling that something was going to go down.

"Do I need to stay here and watch you?" I ask.

"Nope, just go have fun."

I walk out of the motel room and make my way to the bar around the corner. I still couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go down. Sam looked sad and pained when he had said what he said. But I guess that he was finally giving up at trying to win me over. I shake my head and cross the street. I head towards the bar only to have the dude at the stop me.

"ID?" he asks holding his hand out.

I reach for my wallet and pull out my ID. "What, I had short hair then. Sue me." The dude lets me in. I look around for Dean but couldn't see him. Normally he would be at the counter but I don't see him there. Maybe he went to use the bathroom, I wonder. I walk up the to the counter and ask for the bathroom and the bartender points to a small hallway around the corner. I smile and thank him. I make my way over there while sending a text to Dean. The moment I turn the corner, my heart falls out of my chest and my body gets cold when I see it.

His lips are hook to hers. His hand trails down her side and picks up her leg to hook it around his waist. He walks her into a wall where she wraps her arms around his neck and lets a hand run through his hair. He kisses her jaw and neck and I'm too numb to move or to do anything. I just stare until I see her look at me. I drop my head and take in a deep breath. I hope to God I was seeing things. I look back up just in time to see Dean slowly turn to me.

"YN!" The blood falls from his face.

"You know her?" the woman says with disgust.

I spin around but Dean already has my arm in his hands. "YN, stop." He says spinning me back around. He looks horrified but I wasn't the one getting too friendly with someone that wasn't him.

"Touch me again and I'll make sure you never walk again," yanking my arm back.

I make my out of the bar and fight tears all the way back to the motel. How could he do something like that to me? I did nothing to him to deserve seeing him kiss someone else like he was. Maybe it was because I told him that Sam kissed me? Maybe he saw that it was easier to get into my pants if he played that he felt the same way about me? It could be almost anything and I all I want to do is put him six feet under. Alive.

I storm into the front office of the motel and demand a room. "Aren't you with those guys?" the dude at the counter asks.

"Yes, just get me my room, or I will jump over this counter and get a room myself." I can tell my voice is close to breaking. The dude hands me a key and I quickly rush back to the boys room and storm in slamming the door behind me. I grab my bags and just as I am about to leave, Sam walks out of the bathroom. He's in just a t-shirt and sweatpants.

"What happened?" He sees my bags and the look on my face when I turn to see him. "What did he do?" He knew Dean did something.

I try to say something but the long awaited tears start. Sam walks  up to me and takes my bag from my hands and pulls me into a hug. "I'm so fucking stupid," my voice breaking against his chest. "So fucking stupid to let him in like that." Sam rubs my back and tells to let it all out. Sam stands there holding me for nearly half an hour when I finally stop cry over what happened.

"Want to tell me what happened now?" Sam ask letting me pull away.

"Once i'm in my new room," I wipe my eyes. I must look like a red puffy mess but the way Sam looks at me, he doesn't care.

Sam nods and picks up my bags and lets me lead the way to my new room. Which on the next level and has a single bed. Sam sets the bags down and grabs the Chinese take out menu off the dresser. "What do you want?" he asks already on the phone.

"Surprise me," I say plopping onto the bed and staring into space. Even thought nothing sounded appealing, I knew that I should eat something.

"Okay, ordered." Sam sits a the foot of the bed.

"He was kissing another girl." I say sitting up. "I don't want to talk more about it. I just need space from him or I'm going to do something that might kill him."

"Okay," Sam says. "Want to watch Game of Thrones? I have my laptop so we can start where we left off or we can start over."

I smile a little. "That would be great. Let's start from the beginning since I don't remember what happened."

Sam is back in five minutes. Sam pulls a few phonebooks from the motel room drawers and sets them on the bed and had his laptop up and running. Just as we were about to hit play theres a knock at the door. Sam gets up and opened the door. It's the food. Sam brings in two bags and I just stare at him.

"What?" he smiles. "You said to surprise you so I ordered what I thought you would like."

Sams sits on the next to you and he starts to place containers on the bed. I grabbed the spicy beef lo mein and a fork. I couldn't use chopsticks if meant saving my own life. I see that Sam is still sitting a few feet from me on the edge of the bed. I pat the spot next to me. "Dude, sit right here so you can see the screen better. I won't bite you."

Sam moves closer and I hit play on the show. Its not until I finish eating that I am aware of how close Sam is to me. He's so close I can hear his breathing over the show. Sam leans ups and stretches his arms and sits back and I see that he had been tense. I scoot a bit closer.

"Don't bite me," I say. "Relax your shoulders. You won't get those knots out like that." Sams shoulders drop and relax. I take my hands and before I place them on him, I think twice, but then again, I'm about to do it anyway. I place my hands on his shoulders and begin to rub out the few knots in Sams back. Sam takes a deep breath and drop his head down. I stop and sit back.

"That actually feels so much better," Sam loosens up his back some and sits back next to me. We sit in silence for a few minutes just letting the show play. "Thank you for being with me, Sam. Otherwise I would have ripped Dean a new one." I shiver and Sam, without thinking, puts his arms around me. I curl up next to him and lay my head on his chest. I can hear the sound of his heart quicken and his body tense up some. Soon it relaxes and he tightens his arm around me and plants a soft kiss on the top of my head.

I wake up the next morning to pounding on my door. I sit up to see that Sam was sleeping on the small motel couch. I smile a bit but that quickly fades when the pounding of the door continues.

"YN!" Deans voice calls out. "I know you're in there. The guy in the office said you were in this room. Can we talk?"

I sit on the bed and hear the pain in his voice. Sam stirs and sits up and see my face. Sam's about to speak until the pounding starts again. "Dean I assume?" he asks and I nod. "Let me get it."

I get out of bed and stop Sam. "No, I got it. Just make coffee." I unlock the door and open. There stands Dean, in yesterdays clothes, reeking of whiskey. I see the pain and regret in his eyes. "Okay, what do you want?" Dean walks in passed you and stops as he sees Sam making coffee.

"I see what this is," Dean rubs his face. "I do something stupid and you think revenge is the answer."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I ask closing the door. Sam continues to busy himself making coffee.

"Sam, YN! Why the hell was he sleeping here?" Dean angrily gestures towards his brother.

"First off," I take a step towards Dean and cross my arms. "Lower your voice or I'll tape it. Second, nothing happened between me and him." Other than the fact that Sam held me for three hours last night while we watched our show until I zonked out. "Sam helped me to the room and hung out with me. We watched a few episodes of  Game of Thrones. I passed out. Sam stayed on his own accord. He was comforting me while you were screwing the local hooker." No, Sam stayed just in case I woke up and wanted to go out and throttle Dean or have angry make up sex. "So you can pipe it down."

I grab my bag and head to the bathroom and Dean grabs my arm. "YN," he whispers hoarsly. "I'm sorry."

"No," I take my arm back. "You're not. Now get out of here or so help me I will kick you out and over the railing. I gotta get ready so we can finish this damn case."

Dean raises an eyebrow and scoffs. "Alright, then." Dean slams the door causing me to flinch. Sam walks over to me and hugs me and thats when I notice that my body was shaking with anger.

@donnaintx​ @myinconnelly1​ @elansaidaris​ @magssteenkamp​ 

[zoyaalinas]

rosa suburbia

written for @jonsadrabbles

day 1: prompt ~ linger

summary: sansa's world is glossy pink. jon wishes she'd let him nurse his heartbreak in peace. he also wishes she'd let him stay.

“Can I work here for a bit? Robb’s so bloody loud I can’t hear myself.”

A listless shrug. “Sure.”

“Thanks. I’ll be quiet.”

She nods, and says it again, sure, her rs clipped off like dead lobelias to make space for drags. Sometimes he wonders what Sansa dreams about when she’s perched this way- looking out a window with the secrecy of a sniper at a periscope, cigarette dangling from the left corner of her mouth. It’s how Jon finds her every morning on his way downstairs, seeking six o’clock supplies (hard-to-ration things: dental floss, Xeroxes, coffee, mental peace). A ritual viewing to keep balance: Sansa Stark in her too-pink bedroom wearing too-pink lingerie staring at too-pink sunsets, although on retrospection, sunsets here are never quite as brilliant as his idea of them.

Most things aren’t.

Outside, it’s summer. In the canon of atmospheric literature, there is something artificial about the way summer is described. Sunshine and great bursts of leaves. Air that smells of crushed fern. Summer in the foothills isn’t half as proprietary; it arrives in silence and gets into crevices like beach glass and thoughtless exchanges made in the heat of a single moment. The air, in fact, hadn’t smelt like crushed fern when Val had slammed the door upon his face in a hot blaze of tears and told him he had developed a pathological affinity for self-centeredness. It had smelt like the wine they’d drunk before.

That was two months back. Jon Snow lost two months to an error of judgement, though some of it was probably the wine too.

Anyway. Non, rien de rien, non, je ne regrette rien.

Thump, thump, thump. Insane acoustics. When Jon is sad, he drinks a lot and rhapsodizes on the lines of Richard Siken. When Robb is sad, he plays Post Malone. From the looks of it, Jon’s roommate must be fucking devastated today, but one can only endure Rockstar so many times before one feels a burgeoning need to pop in half a Percocet and seek refuge in the room of a greater, more tranquil being for the first time in forty days.

Thump.

Or, maybe he’s beating shit up? The Stark kids are a weird lot, Jon has come to realise from his time playing hanger-on: they keep to themselves and operate strictly on an eat-or-be-eaten policy, running on cool crisp cocktails of narcotics and self-hatred. Combinations vary: Arya punches jocks; Bran plays Ted Bundy podcasts during morning yoga sessions. Etcetera.

“What are you writing?”

Nothing to be exact, not since he got distracted from self-pity an odd minute back. More of guilt than anything else, Jon shuts his laptop. “Nada.”

 “You working on that novel?”

“Trying.”

“Feel you.” She taps on a fissure in the cool granite of the sill. “When Harry dumped me, I locked myself into a room and watched Elizabeth Taylor movies for 72 hours. Naked.”

“Sounds terrific.”

“The binging or the nudity?”

“Both. Invite me next time.”

“Alrighty!” this in a sing-song lilt, like playing Harley Quinn. “Bring your best Arbor Red and we’ll watch Gone with the Wind.”

“Don’t forget the other half of the pact.”

Sansa pulls a silly face, and he thinks, Percocet-hazed, funny girl. Conversations should’ve been initiated before, but she wasn’t, well, Val. Embarrassing.

“Here, have a whole drag. Cleanses your mind.” She proffers the cig at him, rolling-paper stained by a very bright, very bubblegum-pink lipgloss. Jon manages to complicatedly maneuver accepting the cigarette without making contact with Sansa’s fingers, a feat he’d thought impossible for any human in hypothetical pick-me-ups.

Not that he minds. Not that he’s-

“Close the laptop darling, if the angst doesn’t come in fifteen minutes it sure wouldn’t materialize in twenty.”

Not used to being told off by anyone in a camisole, Jon does, indeed, close his laptop.  It’s a very becoming camisole, objectively. In fact all of Sansa’s room has the strange congruity of an organized film set, there’s clutter, but it’s organic, prettily messy, an 80’s pinup-girl-dorm with the mandatory young Leo poster behind the door. The one in the floral shirt.

Jon looks at her again. Funny girl, yes, but also quite lovely, objectively, with that shock of red hair falling all over her face and big blue eyes with liquid flourishes at the creases that probably have a cosmetological name Jon doesn’t know. He watches her reapply her lipgloss in the dresser mirror. That particular pink would look atrocious anywhere else but somehow it looks just correct on her mouth. Glossology- proclaims the tube in bright gaudy silver letters. Shade 245: Rosa Suburbia. Christ above.

His phone buzzes. Val, says the ID, with the two blue hearts she’d added the day they’d swapped contacts. Jon hesitates, delaying the imminent. Lingering. Just another five seconds.

Mirror Sansa looks at him and flashes a dazzling smile. He smiles back only to realise she’s checking her makeup. Bit of an idiot move, classic Jon.

Another buzz.

“You better get that, Johnny,” Sansa chimes in her Harley Quinn voice.

Summer is untyped sentences waiting to be born, a room plastered by Vogue cutouts, a bed strewn with nail polish bottles, lacy underthings and empty boxes of dessert crumbs. Summer is ugly pink lipgloss and ridiculously lovely blue eyes and the epiphany that Gone with the Wind is that movie you’ve been planning to watch your whole life but simply never got around to.

“It’s probably dad, checking in. I’ll call him later. Listen, you want to go out on the terrace or something? It’s too smoky in here.”

“Shit, you just asked me on a date to my own rooftop?”

“Wait, what?”

She laughs.

The glow on Jon’s phone screen informs he has three missed calls. They can wait.

Being with Sansa is good. Being with Sansa works a bit like holding a red hot iron tong to an open flesh-wound. It’s overwhelming, and sometimes the bite in her words is hostile, but it heals. It cleans. If it were upto him, he would be cauterized by Sansa Stark every time the Percocet didn’t dissolve.

Outside, the summer too, lingers.

Inside, the room is thick with nicotine and Rosa Suburbia.

(follow the notes to read this on ao3)