#and now I walk into that chocolate spread in my local corner shop

[damnprecious]

Tfw you see a product at the store you've only ever used during one trip in your life and get thrown back into the memories

[frenchpuppycormier]

fluff 10 and/or 11 + supercorp for the sentence starters pls 💞

"Are we on a date right now?" / "I think I'm in love with you."

—

Saturday signals the best day in Kara's book for one simple reason: the farmers market. It's the perfect place to buy fresh produce directly from the grower at a lower price than those pesky retailers. Not to mention, it's fresher and it's a great way to support local communities.

Kara enjoys it most in the early morning between 8 and 9 when the California heat hasn't bombarded its citizens yet. One of her favorite memories of going to the market was when she first arrived on earth, and Eliza and Alex took her to the one in Midvale. Eliza bought her the sweetest miniature doughnuts which practically melted in her mouth. She's been a huge (understatement of the year) fan ever since.

The farmers market is located 20 blocks from her apartment, just a short jaunt or flight for the hero.

Today she decides to walk and enjoy the nice cool breeze, and the warm sun spilling on her face. She can already hear the acoustics of a folk band covering a Fleetwood Mac song at the end of main street. The leaves are starting to change, indicating the beginning of fall, and the ones already on the ground crunch beneath her feet.

Her reusable cloth bag with the words, "Okey Dokey Artichokey" and a cartoon artichoke with a smiley face and tiny stick arms, is slung over her shoulder. Lena had given it to her as a gag gift, but Kara uses it the most out of all her bags. Any gift from Lena is special and she will always treasure it.

As she rounds the corner to the market, she sneaks another look at her list to remind herself what she needs, when she bumps into someone. Hard. Fortunately, Kara manages to grab the other person's arm before they fall.

"Oh my gosh," Kara cringes. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was—" she interrupts herself when she sees, "Lena?"

"Hey there, slick," Lena laughs and nudges the hand latched on her arm to tangle with her fingers.

Kara responds by swinging their arms back and forth, like what friends do when they haven't seen each other in months. But Kara and Lena just saw each other yesterday. This is normal, right? Kara thinks. The fluttering in my chest is completely common whenever I see my friends....Right?

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Kara speaks before her brain can catch up with her.

Lena's face lights up with a sly grin. "Can't a woman go to the market every once in a while?"

"N-no no, of course you can," Kara laughs awkwardly, "I meant, gosh I'm not sure...I guess I just didn't expect to see you here. You live all the way on the other side of town."

"Relax, love," she chuckles and squeezes her hand and releases it, Kara immediately missing the warmth. "I'm teasing you. But to answer your question, I'm in desperate need of fresh kale, and I heard this particular stand has the best in the city."

Kara feigns gagging and Lena playfully shoves her shoulder. “I still don’t understand how you can eat that stuff.”

“Who knew the green stuff that incapacitates you was kale.”

“More like your eyes,” Kara mumbles.

“What was that?”

Kara’s eyes widen. “N-nothing,” she rubs the back of her neck. “Um, so….do you care if I join you? Wandering aimlessly through the market checking out food stands with my best friend sounds like the perfect way to spend my Saturday morning.”

“I’d love nothing more,” Lena replies, smiling brightly.

—

“Oooh, look! A food truck!” Kara points.

Lena laughs at her zeal. “Let’s see what they have.”

Kara reaches for her hand and twines their fingers together before dragging her toward the truck. Lena’s stomach swoops at the action, but she calms herself down enough so Kara doesn’t notice her rapid heartbeat. Not that she would, considering food is the best distraction when it comes to the blonde.

Little does Lena know that nothing can distract Kara from Lena, especially considering 98% of the time Kara is listening to the constant thumps and quivers of Lena’s heart, but Kara doesn’t say anything.

Kara looks up at the man in the truck and politely rattles off her order, then looks at Lena and asks, “What do you want?”

“Um,” Lena quickly glances at the menu and says, “I’ll have the Avo Smash, please.” She moves to hand the man cash, but Kara stops her and insists she'll pay for it. "My treat."

Once they give their order they move to the side and wait until their names are called.

When they get their food they move to a shady spot on the sidewalk and admire how delicious it looks.

“What’s that?” Kara asks.

“Oh, it’s a piece of toast with smashed avocado, egg, and tomato,” Lena replies, noticing how Kara turns up her nose. Lena rolls her eyes and gestures at her hands, “What’d you get?”

"Uh, only the most scrumptious and melt in your mouth-watering food you can get here," she replies, eyebrows pinched, incredulously. Lena raises her eyebrows in a get-on-with-it kind of way. "French toast bites," Kara finishes, exasperated at Lena's lack of enthusiasm.

"Sweet food for a sweet girl."

Kara's cheeks grow a slight pink. Instead of replying, she dips a piece of her toast in the syrup, and shoves the whole thing in her mouth. Lena simply hums and takes a bit of her own food. Kara smiles like a chipmunk with cheeks full of goodies.

When Lena's finished with her slice of hipster toast, as Kara calls it, a small body runs into her legs from behind. She looks down and finds a small boy with sandy blonde hair and big, blue eyes looking up at her with a toothy grin.

"Hi, there," she smiles at him.

"Henry!" a woman in a flowy maxi dress and brown sandals comes running toward them. She picks him up and gives him a stern look. "I told you not to run off like that!" The woman adjusts him on her hip and shyly realizes she has an audience. "I'm so sorry! He gets too excited about their french toast."

"Oh, no worries," Lena reassures her. She carefully grabs Kara's elbow and says, "This one does too."

Kara acts hurt by placing a hand over her heart. "Well, can you blame me? They're delicious! Aren't they?" she smiles at the boy and waves. He giggles and hides his face in his mother's neck. "Someone's a little shy, huh?"

"He is, isn't he?" the mom kisses his cheek. "I think he has a little crush on you."

"Who, me?" Kara laughs. "No, I think he has eyes for Lena. As most people do." She steps forward and tickles his stomach so he looks at her. Kara holds out her hand for a high five and whispers, "Good choice." He gratefully slaps her hand.

When Kara steps back, Lena is blushing, but rather than call her out on it she ignores it out of respect. Kara smiles at her and Lena smiles back, but then she's suddenly laughing through her nose.

"Darling, you have a little," she gestures at her own face.

"What? I have something on my face?" Kara touches her cheek, but completely misses.

"Here," Lena's fingers tenderly touch the side of her jaw while her thumb swipes her lip. Lena's completely focused on what she's doing, but Kara only has eyes for Lena.

Lena pulls back her hand, thumb now sticky with syrup. Instead of wiping it on the napkin Kara knows Lena has in her bag, she sticks it between her lips and licks it clean.

Kara completely stops breathing.

"How long have you two been together?" a voice snaps her out of her reverie.

Kara gapes at her with wide eyes and stutters, "Um...we, we're uh, just friends."

"Oh," the woman almost looks upset. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to presume. Well, I'll let you get back to your morning." She smiles at them and walks away, leaving a flabbergasted Kara and quiet Lena.

They don't say anything and choose to ignore it while they continue down the street.

—

"Lena, you have to try this," Kara doesn't give her a chance to respond before shoving a spoonful of gelato in Lena's mouth.

Lena gasps and nearly chokes on the ice cold dessert enveloping her tastebuds. She hisses and nods, as she lifts her hand to hastily catch the dribbles of melted chocolate trickling down her chin. Kara winces, "I'm so sorry!"

"No," Lena shakes her head as she swallows, "I just wasn't expecting that."

"Well? How was it?"

"Y'know, I'm not gonna lie...it was pretty fucking delicious."

"Right? Marco really knows his stuff."

"Um," Lena holds her hand out, fingers spread apart to prevent more sticking, and shakes it like she doesn't know what to do.

Kara jumps to action and runs off. She's back in two seconds with a wet wipe and cleans Lena's hand. "Where'd you find that?"

"Don't ask."

"Okay?" Lena laughs breathily. "You're a mystery wrapped inside an enigma, Ms. Danvers."

"I aim to confuse," she jokes.

Lena shakes her head, and eventually says, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Kara smiles at her, their eyes locked onto each other. She's finished cleaning her hand, but rather than letting go, her hand stays curled around Lena's, not wanting to ruin the moment.

—

“Oh Rao, you didn’t,” Kara gasps.

Lena turns around and frowns at her. “What?” Kara gestures to Lena’s bag. Lena looks down and chuckles when she realizes what she’s talking about. “In my defense, I was drunk. You know how my shopping brain acts when I’m drunk; I buy things I don’t need.”

“Hmmm, well maybe your alcohol-addled brain just remembered how funny I thought it was and wanted to impress me,” Kara teases with a twitch of her eyebrow.

“I’m sure that’s exactly what happened,” Lena deadpans. She glanced at the words on her bag again and fondly shakes her head. It reads: Oh Kale Yeah, with a bunch of kale on both sides.

“I think so,” Kara steps closer and smiles.

“Oh, really?” Lena raises her eyebrows.

“Yep,” she ends with an extra pop of the ‘p’ and boops her on the nose.

Lena opens her mouth in surprise, a protest on the tip of her tongue, but a voice interrupts her from in front of them.

“You two are such a lovely couple,” the vendor gushes.

Lena and Kara startle, forgetting they’re standing right in front of a stand selling various vegetables and fruits and jars of honey. Behind the table is an older woman, most likely in her late 70s, with streaks of gray hair, crinkly eyes and facial lines as if she’s smiled her whole life.

“Oh, we’re not—”

“Thank you,” Kara answers, smiling bashfully. She pushes a lock of hair behind her ear and says, “I’ll take one bunch of radishes and one spaghetti squash.”

“Coming right up,” the woman replies.

Kara glances over at Lena and gives her a shy smile, before handing the woman a $10 bill and thanking her. She grabs the veggies and carefully drops them in her bag.

“Thank you two, have a wonderful day.”

“Of course, you too!” Kara places her hand on the small of Lena’s back and guides her forward.

As they make their way to the next stand, Kara laughs, remembering their conversation, “I can’t believe you bought that bag. You’re such a giant dork.”

Lena whips around and eyes Kara curiously. Kara’s hand shifts from her back to loosely rest on her waist. Lena’s eyes are squinting from the bright sun, but Kara can see the speckles of gold in them and thinks she’s never looked more beautiful.

“Are we on a date right now?”

Kara's heart quickens and she opens and closes her mouth a few times, until finally she clears her throat, "Did you want it to be?"

"I thought—”

"Because I do," Kara states. "Want it to be a date. But only if you do, of course. I don't want you to feel pressured or like I forced you to hang out with me," she retracts her hand. "That's the last thing I—”

Lena grabs her hand as she pulls it way, not wanting Kara to close herself off. "Hey, I want this just as much as you do."

"Really?"

Lena lightly presses her thumb into the grooves of Kara's knuckles, and absentmindedly plays with them. She smiles, fully dimpled, and says, "I do. Actually, I uh..." she lowers their connected hands and looks off into the distance, mind seemingly elsewhere.

"What is it?" Kara asks. She playfully shakes their arms back and forth to get her attention.

Lena looks at the ground before completely focusing on Kara and those baby blues she's come to know and love. She takes a deep breath and her voice shakes when she whispers, "I think I'm in love with you..." Lena stumbles and shakes her head, "No—I am in love with you."

Kara inhales sharply and Lena thinks she's made a giant mistake. She starts to turn and do something stupid, like run away, but Kara keeps her hold on her and pulls her forward.

Smiling, Kara slowly inches closer leaving the opportunity for Lena to stop her. When Kara's lips press into hers she welcomes it completely. Kara's hands come up to cup Lena's jaw until she moves one to tangle in her hair.

Kara disconnects from her lips, but stays wrapped up in her, their foreheads touching. "I'm in love with you, too," she whispers against soft lips.

"Good," Lena smiles and kisses her again.

[bestiesenpai]

firsts with Gojo Satoru

Every day I’m reminded that Gojo is 6.3ft and every day I remind myself that I could still slap the shit out of him and I wouldn’t even have to reach that high. That is what brings me inner peace.

First meeting

It’s not often that the Gojo Satoru is tasked with cleaning up curses of any grade less than level 1, but sometimes while he was casually out and about he would see a few and handle them with no issue

Like the cluster of fly heads going through the street, harassing people

It takes him no time at all to get to them, a few long strides and he’s there

With a swipe of his hand, the curses are expelled, gone from the world and no longer causing havoc

“What were those things?” A curious voice asks off to the side. Lowering his sunglasses, Satoru turns to the person looking at where the curses had just been.

“What things?” He feigns ignorance and it makes you snort.

“Those flying things you just got rid of. I was watching them for a while, they were pretty annoying.” While you’re talking, Satoru is sizing you up. He can sense just a tiny bit of cursed energy coming from you, not enough to be of any use except for the ability to see curses.

Worrying his lip, Satoru debated on how much he should tell you, if anything at all. He thought you were cute, so maybe he could tell you a little bit and then lead it into another conversation...maybe get your number.

“Are you okay?” Suddenly you’re closer to him than you were before. In all his going back and forth he’d failed to see you take a few steps closer and peer at him, that curious look back in your eyes. “Try not to think too hard, mister, I wouldn’t want your pretty face to get all wrinkled now.”

Satoru actually laughs at that, his chest nearly bumping into you with how close you two are now. He even bends a little at the waist, completely caught off guard by how you, a perfect stranger, have just spoken to him.

“Ya know, that’s not the usual response I get from people.” Fixing his glasses on his head, Satoru fixes you with a smirk he knows people swoon over. “And my name’s not ‘mister’. It’s Satoru, Gojo Satoru.”

“Okay.” His smirk wavers just slightly when he realizes you’re not exactly falling into his arms, just nodding and then you’re pointing to the sky where the fly heads had been. “So Gojo, what were those things?”

First hangout

Gojo does end up telling you the truth about the flyheads and you take it better than he was expecting

He was quick to get your first and last name, maybe you were from a family of sorcerers...but you weren’t. Just a normal person who saw him expel some curses

The conversation quickly ends after he’s done explaining it to you, much to his chagrin. He’d laid on the charm thick, hoping you’d ask for his number or for an opportunity for him to ask, but none came

When he was done telling you about the curses, you gave him a brief pat on the arm, thanked him and went about your day

There was a soft smile on your face as you walked away, and the feeling of your hand still lingered on his arm

Gojo wanted to see you again, but he knew he might never

“Oh, hello Gojo.” Your voice pops up again in an unexpected place, the candy section of a local convenience store near the train station he’d just exited.

“Huh?” He turns, surprised to see you and surprised that you addressed him so casually. It was indeed you, the person he’d seen before and wanted to get to know better.

“Hm, is it not you? I don’t know anyone else that tall with white hair.” Scratching your cheek, you give him a once over.

“It is me.” He’s quick to answer before you apologize and walk away.

“Ha, knew it.” A sly grin comes on your face and Satoru grins in return, his chest tightening a little bit. Rocking on your heels, you gesture to the candy in front of you. “What’s your poison?”

“Everything.” Snorting, Satoru looks at the candy briefly, eyes scanning on all the ones he’s tried.

“Ouch, sounds like a serious sweet tooth.” Chuckling to yourself, you reach out and grab a bag of sour gummies. “These are my favorite, have you tried them?” He has and he kind of hates them, but he picks up a bag anyway and pretends to read it over.

“No, I haven’t. They’re your favorite, you say?” You nod and he holds them more securely in his hand. “Alright, I’ll get them. And this.” Snatching up a chocolate bar he knows he actually likes, Satoru walks with you to the checker and puts his items on top of yours. “I’ll pay.”

You don’t fight him on paying, thanking him with a smile and another pat on his arm. As you walk out of the shop, Satoru nearly puts his arm around your shoulder. It feels like the two of you are on a casual snack run together before going somewhere to watch a movie or something. Even though you’re a stranger, Satoru feels like you already belong together.

“Well, it was nice seeing you again.” You say, snapping him out of his delusion. “What are your plans for the day?” It’s a wonderful day in a suburb of Tokyo, near the place you’d first met. The sun is beaming but not too hot, there’s fluffy white clouds scattered around the sky and a light breeze.

“Nothing, honestly.” Shrugging his shoulder, Satoru looks up and down the street. Honestly, he did have something to do, he was supposed to meet Ijichi for a little meeting with a few other people. But if he was being honest, he’d gladly be late or even skip it entirely if it meant talking to you more.

“Really? Well if you’re into them, there’s a really good cafe just around the corner. I think you’d like it.” Oh shit, were you asking to hang out with him? Or was this more of a date? Watching you take out your phone, Satoru is confused when you pull up a GPS. “If you want, I’ll send you the address.”

Wait...what? Looking at you with clear confusion on his face, Satoru points down the street.

“Let’s go there together, since we’re already here.” Your eyes widen a fraction of an inch, but Satoru can easily see the miniscule way your face changes. Putting your phone away, you take a step down the street.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Once at the cafe, Satoru feels in heaven. It’s a space made for intimate conversations with closed off booths lining the walls and the rich dark colors decorating the space. It feels almost like a lounge instead of a cafe, but when he sees the menu and there’s no alcohol, he’s reminded of what it is.

“I like to get an earl gray and some macarons.” You tell him as you stand by the counter, looking up at the menu.

“I’m going to get that super chocolate cake.”

“That’s so much chocolate!” Chuckling, you walk up to the waiting cashier, wallet already out. “Go ahead and order, Gojo, I’ll pay.”

You don’t end up paying, actually. Gojo quickly plucked your wallet from your hands and put his money down instead. It wasn’t that he was trying to impress you by paying for everything, but he kind of was. He wanted you to know he was dependable.

Sliding into a booth, he can feel your knees knocking together, legs sliding between one another as you get comfortable. With the light from the window illuminating you, Satoru wished he could take a picture of you.

“Let me know how you like it.” Taking a sip of your tea, you watch him expectantly. Not one to disappoint an audience, Satoru takes a bite of the cake and lets out a pleased hum.

“(Y/N), this is great.” He practically moans, eagerly taking another bite.

“Knew you would like it.” You’ve got a silly smile spreading your cheeks wide, and Satoru lifts his hand up, wanting to pinch your cheek.

“You’ve got good taste.” He says instead, putting his elbow on the table to cover up his attempt at trying to touch your face. “I really like it here.”

You’re a very big reason why he likes it there.

First date

Gojo makes sure to get your number after that, he refuses to miss an opportunity like that

He can’t risk the possibility of just ‘maybe’ running into you again, he needs to insert himself into your life more than just chance run-ins

Gojo is a great texter, you’ll learn that quickly. He messages you back promptly, having riveting conversations with each other and sometimes calling on the phone as well

Whenever his phone goes off and it’s not you he automatically deflates, and has on more than one occasion answered the phone and opened up the conversation with ‘you’re not (Y/N), but I guess I have time to talk’ with a big dramatic sigh after

He asks you out the second he has a free day, just begging and hoping you’re also available

And with his oh so good luck, you are!

“How’d I know you’d pick an arcade?” You chuckle as you approach his waiting figure outside the building. Satoru is dressed nicely, but not too much. A smart bomber jacket with a plain black shirt underneath and jeans, not overdressed but more put together than his everyday look. And of course, his signature glasses.

“I have to show you I’m the best at everything.” Opening the door for you, he’s eager to get started on playing some games. “(Y/N), wander around and see what you wanna do first, I’ll exchange some money.”

“Okay.” You’ve given up on trying to pay for things when Satoru is around, he will adamantly refuse. Wandering around the arcade floor between the different machines, your eyes settle on a claw machine, a cute Pikachu plush just sitting there waiting for you.

“Gojo.” You’re bouncing on your heels watching him exchange money, and as soon as he collects all the coins you grab him by the hand and bring him to the claw machine. A light pink tinge paints his cheeks and he doesn’t look away from your hands connected together until you let go and tap on the glass. “Look at this plush! It needs me.”

“Here, try for it.” Putting a generous amount of coins in the machine, Satoru stands next to you and watches as you try to pick it up with the claw several times but fail. The plush doesn’t move at all with any of your attempts, making a frustrated whine leave the back of your throat.

“Pikachu, I love you.” You say, dramatically putting a hand on your heart and looking at the plush.

“Let me try, I’ll get it.” Confidently stepping up to the controller, Satoru smirks and taps the glass. “I’ll get the little guy real easy.”

“Mhmm, whatever you say.” Rolling your eyes, you stand close to him, eyes watching keenly as the claw moves. Grabbing onto the plush, Satoru manages to move it a good few inches towards the opening. “Satoru!” You gasp, grabbing onto his arm as he moves the plush again and it nearly falls in. His cheeks tinge a little when you say his first name.

“Told you.” He could feel himself getting distracted with the way both of your hands are now clinging to his arm, practically hugging it to your body. It only takes two more tries before the plush falls into the opening and the machine lets out a victory noise.

“Awesome!” You’re so excited that you jump a little bit in joy and actually do hug his arm tightly before letting go. Putting the plush in your hands, Satoru watches as you cutely squish it with your hands and smile.

“What other plush do you want? I’ll win them all.”

He did indeed win all the plushies and toys you wanted. He always let you try first, wanting to see if you could do it on your own, but more often than not he proved the title ‘best at everything’ wasn’t just for show.

Moving on from the claw games, you played the other arcade games around. Mario kart, random rhythm games and even scary shooters, Satoru played them all with you. Sometimes he let you win, other times he completely destroyed you. And when something scared you, he was always there to put an arm around your shoulder and protect you.

First confession

You spend far too many hours in the arcade, playing game after game and accumulating an obscene amount of claw game prizes

Gojo doesn’t joke around damnit!

He also forces Ijichi to come and drive you home lol and he sits in the backseat with you, holding your hand and playing with your fingers while you make friendly conversation with Ijichi

Carrying the bag full of plushies to your door, Gojo sets them in the threshold of your apartment before looking back at you

The open door is like a void just begging for Satoru to step into. The soft overhead light you’d flicked on was enough to illuminate a little more of your apartment, and from what Satoru could see it was nicely decorated and smelled like flowers.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” Biting your lip, you look at him for just a moment before looking away again, rocking back and forth on your feet bashfully.

“I did too.” Satoru means it, he’s already planning the next date in his head and the best way to shove his responsibilities onto others so his schedule opens up. Grabbing your hand, he laces your fingers together and holds it up to his chest. “I hope I can see you again soon. I really like you (Y/N).”

“I like you a lot too.” You’re too embarrassed to say anything more, continuing to bite your lip and letting Satoru squeeze your hand. Slowly, the two of you shuffle closer to each other, and Satoru brushes the tips of his fingers along your face, subtly tilting it up so he can kiss you.

Just as he gets close enough to feel your breath, a sharp baby's cry sounds from the apartment next to yours and it makes you jump. There’s shuffling inside and then the door is thrown open and a tired looking man in old sweats comes running out.

“Oh, hi (Y/N)!”

“Hi Mr. Yoo. What’re you doing out?” Turning to him, you try to play off the fact that you were just caught almost kissing in front of your door.

“I realized we’re all out of diapers! I have to go get some stat.” He barely pays Satoru any attention, quickly rushing off with a brief goodbye.

Now the moment had been ruined, you were too far now and you’d pulled your hands away when the door was opened. Stepping into your apartment, you give a lingering look at Satoru’s lips before meeting his eyes.

“Text me when you get home.” You say, and with a soft goodbye you close the door and Satoru leaves.

First kiss

Getting blue balled by a baby was definitely not in Gojos five year plan

He literally can’t wait until you see each other again, he’s obsessing about kissing you

Applies lip balm like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, the man would rather swallow a jean jacket than have you kiss dry lips

Any amount of time apart from you is painful and it’s only made worse when his schedule becomes full, too tightly packed to move anything around

He’s keeping up with you through text and calls but it’s not enough for him, and he lets you know almost every time you call that he wants to be with you, be able to physically touch you and see you

When there’s a little festival in Tokyo and Nobara and Itadori are begging to go, Gojo uses it as a chance to see you again

“Hi everyone!” You’re very excited to meet Satoru’s students. He hadn’t told you he was a teacher, all he said was he exorcised curses.

“Hi!” Itadori is excited to meet you, Nobara is excited to see who’s been taking up all of her teacher's time and Fushiguro is just there, curious about you but too aloof to ask any questions.

“So I take it Satoru teaches you guys how to get rid of those curses and stuff, huh?” Your question floored them, and even Fushiguro was looking at you with wide eyes.

“(Y/N) can see curses.” Satoru steps in, putting an arm around your shoulders.

“Yeah, I guess I can see a little bit of cursed energy.” Nobara mutters. Truthfully, they were all too busy asking you questions and looking at how pretty you were to notice cursed energy.

“You guys are really brave! Some of those curses are really scary.” Shivering as you recall one you’d seen recently(and texted Satoru about), you point toward the festival stalls. “But you guys probably don’t wanna talk about work, huh? Let’s go get some food, I’ll pay.”

“Sorry (Y/N), we’re under strict orders not to accept your money.” Making an X with his arms, he and Nobara shook their heads.

“Satoru!” Slapping his chest playfully, you start to walk through the festival. “Let me pay for something, you’re gonna go broke at this rate!”

“Nope, not happening.” Keeping you close to him, Satoru makes sure you don’t pay for a single thing. He’d purposefully brought a lot of cash to this knowing that the kids would go absolutely crazy - and that he wanted to spoil you some more to make up for his absence.

As the night progresses, the students get more and more distant. Satoru had briefed them on the way that it was purely a date between you and him and that they were just tagging along and not to stick around for too long.

“This snow ice is so good!” At a more secluded spot at the festival, you and Satoru find a bench to sit at and enjoy the frozen treat he’d bought.

“Feed me.” Opening his mouth, Satoru sticks his tongue out obnoxiously while waiting for you.

“You’re gonna drool on yourself.” You laugh, quickly scooping some up and putting it in his mouth. Holding your hand, Satoru lets the ice fully dissolve before pulling the spoon out. He wants to make a teasing sexual comment, but a loud boom sounds in the sky before he can.

“Fireworks.” He whispers, looking up at the sky as it’s illuminated with bright flashes of light. You let out a noise in awe of the display, and Satoru is suddenly staring right at you. Looking at the way your eyes reflect the light, he can’t stop himself from leaning forward.

“Sa-” Turning your head at the same time he’s about to kiss your cheek, your lips connect. You gasp, and if Satoru hadn’t also been holding onto the snow ice it would have fallen from your hand.

He doesn’t miss an opportunity though, pressing firmly on your lips and tilting his head a little. Your eyes flutter closed, and you pull away for a brief moment to lick your lips before going back in. The sound of fireworks continue to boom above you, continuing to flash light across your closed eyes. It all adds to the experience of kissing Satoru.

“You taste so sweet.” He says when you pull away to breathe, keeping his face close enough that he can rub his nose against yours.

“Shut up.” Satoru can practically feel the heat radiating off your face and it makes him chuckle. Giving you another kiss, he pulls away when the fireworks stop going off. The smile you have on your face warms his heart, his cheeks a light red color to show for it.

“Looks like we’ll need more ice.” Holding up the melting treat, a little pout settles on your lips and Satoru audibly coos.

“I’ll be right back.” Shooting up from the bench, he nearly runs to the stall, already hurting from being apart and eager to get back to you.

[fairyoftbz]

rêveur | b. jacob

☕ pairing: (shy) pastry chef! jacob x fem! reader (with barista!kevin) ☕ word count: 4.2k (。_。) (oops i got carried away) ☕ genre: fluff, sort of slow-burn (more like jacob and the reader rejecting their feelings) ☕ tw: maybe some occasional swear words and one (1) mention of the reader’s ex but nothing too crazy.  ☕ synopsis: you find yourself always coming back to the café down the street where you absolutely loved the pastries and befriended the barista, but you’ll soon discover the culprit of your sweet tooth. ☕ a/n: gosh it’s long but i couldn’t stop myself writing for him 🥺 i’m just too soft for him. ☕ requested: yes! i hope it’s not too bad!

╰☆☆☆☆╮

No matter how hard you tried, the efforts you put to prevent you from coming back, you always found yourself going at the local café every single week. You didn’t understand if it was the atmosphere or the warmth of the place, but you always found yourself there. The fact that it was located just down the road gave you the excuse of hanging around there more often than you should.

You could be busy, studying for finals or hang out with friends, the café was always hidden in the corner of your mind. As soon as the street works ended, your neighbourhood became the most tranquil place you’ve ever lived in. All your neighbours were friendly and polite, sticking a little note in the lift to warn the other neighbours of a potential party or loud reunion, helping each other at any occasion. Some residents, including you, owned a pet, and you were grateful that none of them was a pain in the butt for the rest of the building. When you told your friends how quiet and different it was from your former apartment, they never believed you.

While some of them would have killed to study or sleep at a place like your current one, you always found yourself going back to this local café. This little, Japanese-like coffee shop became your new obsession over the months, randomly finding it once while you wanted to go to a flower shop at the end of this street. The employees were welcoming and caring, completely catching you off guard as you were used to going to Starbucks, where some baristas and waiters could use a good lecture about politeness and respect. In the small coffee shop, their goal wasn’t to make the most money possible, it was more to please people and make them discover new coffee or pastries flavours. Everything was homemade, and that’s what encouraged you to become their number one fan. The workers, especially one, started recognising you by dint of your regular appearances at the shop, remembering one of your visits.

“Morning Y/N! Caramel macchiato, as usual? Nothing else?” Kevin, the barista, greeted you with a smile, which you returned alongside with a nod.

This barista was a social butterfly, always striking up a conversation with everyone. And he didn’t care, he just kept going, even if the customers were rude or remained quiet. You were admiring because you were among the people that stayed reserved yet polite when he started talking to you, but his ease made you comfortable enough to joke and laugh with him, striking a conversation with him whenever you had the chance, quickly becoming friends over your many visits.

“Yes, please! I need a lot of caffeine today,” you murmured, and he sadly chuckled, understanding your great need for energy. “Rough night?” he asked, and you agreed again, chuckling as you realised how lame it was. “I assisted my dog being in pain while giving birth,” you explained, and the barista’s eyes widened, his mouth falling agape in excitement. “But that’s amazing! How many did she have?” he seized your credit card without even telling you the price of your purchase - in his defence, you were so used to coming here that you knew the price of your order by heart by now - and typed on his screen, closing the cash register in a slam as it randomly opened.   “She gave birth to four healthy puppies, they’re so adorable,” you replied, and the man in front of you smiled as brightly as you were.

“Those are great news! Oh, by the way, would you like to have a taste of the discovery of our pastry chef? You should have seen how happy he looked when he finished the batch this morning,” he explained, and you followed him to the window display, indicating with his finger what resembled a mille-feuille. “That looks nice, I’ll have one, then,” you stated as you were to hand him your credit card again, which he hesitantly took before looking at the back office. You asked him if something was wrong, but he shook his head with a smile and gave you a tray with your drink and the pastry. “Have a great day Kevin!” you thanked him while he washed his hands, head turning to you before shooting you a friendly wink. “You too, Y/N! And you can always tell me if you need someone to take one of the puppies, I’ll gladly adopt one. I only have to talk with my girlfriend first,” your eyes turned into crescent moons filled with joy at his words, and you lifted your thumb excitedly. He quickly waved before serving the next customer, his signature undying smile plastered on his face.

Comfortably sitting down at an empty table, you took off your coat and gulped a sip of your drink, your mouth salivating at the sight of the food. Grabbing the fork, you slid it against the pastry and brought it to your mouth, the sugary taste melting against your tongue. You ate more and more until you finished, almost tempted to go back to Kevin and ask him for another one. But you ignored your love of good food and started getting to work, getting a book and your computer out of your bag, touching up your project that you had spent a lot of time working on. It was one of the last things you had to do for university, and you were delighted to get it done to finally move on.

“Is everything okay?” You recognised the voice of your favourite barista, smiling as you watched him clearing your tray. “Yeah, thanks! Actually, can you tell the chef that it was amazing? I loved how incredible it tasted,” you explained, and Kevin smiled brightly, nodding. “I promise I’ll do it. Jacob gets so happy when he receives recognition, I’m sure it’s going to brighten his day,” nodding at you, he took your empty tray back to the counter.

Quickly saving your paper on your computer, you turned your head to the side to stare at the barista, smiling as you noticed him disappearing in the back as he called his friend’s name.

“Jacob!” Kevin spoke as he wiped his wet hands on his apron, his friend slightly flinching as the voice filled the silence he was used to working in. “Are we out of something?” the baker worriedly asked, and Kevin shook his head, a chuckle escaping from his mouth. “No, no, I’m just doing my job, being a messenger,” Jacob slightly frowned and stopped spreading yolk on the biscuits. “One of my friends, Y/N, came and ate the mille-feuille you made this morning. She said that it was excellent, and she wanted me to tell you,” Kevin explained, and the baker blinked a few times, the tip of his ears getting progressively red as he processed his friend’s words. “Thank you, I appreciate it,” the baker replied with a smile, peeking out of the back office to try and get a look at the customers. “Is she still there?” he asked, and Kevin peered closer, shaking his head as your seat was now found empty.

Jacob nodded and went back to work, a bit disappointed to not have been able to see you, hence the pout forming onto his face, but he was touched that someone complimented him on his skills. Of course, it was his job after all, but it always felt nice to receive compliments and validation that what you do is fantastic. Jacob wasn’t the most confident person in the world, so your words only brought him the daily dose of happiness and the credits he deserved.

You came back the next week, the atmosphere of the café had changed into something quite hectic, almost stressing you out when you came here to relax and chill out from your day at uni. Now that your project was done and submitted, you had some hours to kill before meeting up with some friends. Without even noticing, you arrived in the middle of rush hour, people jostling one another to get some pastries or a quick coffee before going back to work. You had to put back into place a businessman that tried to overtake you to place his order, feeling your heart hammering in your chest while doing so. The excuse of being in a rush didn’t persuade you, riposting that you also had to go somewhere so he went back behind you, breathing out of frustration to make you feel guilty, but it didn’t work. You only rolled your eyes and waited, smirking to yourself as the man behind you gave up and left, cussing.

A hand settled the pastries in the window display in a rush, people massing together to decide on their order. Kevin was all over the place but still an angel, a tired yet bright smile adorning his face. Once it was your turn, a man walked behind your friend and recognised the thin hands that placed the pastries in front of you a few minutes earlier. “Jacob? We ran out of chocolate chip cookies, we need a new batch asap, bro. We’re selling them like hot cakes.Y/N, hi, the usual?” Kevin said, and you looked up at the name, the baker stopping in his tracks and nodded, a tired look on his face. Kevin seized the opportunity to grab a chocolate croissant from the tray his friend was holding, wrapping it in a napkin.

Your eyes connected with Jacob’s for a second, his light brown pupils holding something warm and gentle towards you. He wiped the flour off his apron before quickly looking back at you, pushing the strands of hair away from his eyes before replacing his baker cap. He looked in great need of sleep, the bags under his eyes enhancing the empathy you had for him. He was handsome and adorable at the same time, your heart not being able to choose what side to fall for. The baker tiredly nodded at his friend’s request and disappeared, hearing him hastily get back to work.

“Oh uhm, yes, please,” you stammered, and Kevin smirked, humming in agreement, and typed on his screen. You shyly cleared your throat as your friend probably understood your train of thoughts since you weren’t so discrete in observing the baker, but thankfully, he didn’t raise it.

Once the rush hour had calmed down, and the coffee shop quieted down again, just like it was when you came last time, Kevin took his break with Jacob. The manager took over, leaving the two employees time to take a much-needed break and breathe for a while, gathering enough energy to make it to the end of the afternoon.

“It was her that complimented your mille-feuille,” Kevin revealed as he motioned to your table with a nod, where you were happily calling a friend and munching on the pastry the barista had placed on your tray.

Jacob followed his friend’s finger, and an honest, tired smile emerged on his face when he noticed how bright and sunny you looked. You looked so soft and nice to have around, making the baker wonder how it was to have a conversation with you. Eyes turning into crescent moons as you laughed at one of your friend’s joke, you failed to notice the employee looking in your direction, his colleague observing him out of the corner of his eye while sipping his iced americano.  

“She’s pretty, right?” Kevin mumbled, but Jacob didn’t hear him. “What did you say?” The pastry chef mindlessly asked, gaze trailing on your figure. “Y/N. She’s pretty, don’t you think?” Jacob’s eyes widened and stared back at his friend, who was giggling. “It’s okay, I’ll keep it a secret,” the barista nudged his tired friend in the ribs, finishing his drink. “You better,” his colleague finished his coffee, throwing the paper cup in a bin before going back to work, leaving a chuckling Kevin behind. “Why do I feel like cupid out of a sudden?” the barista mumbled to himself, a smirk appearing on his face as he stood up and went back inside.

The next week, as you hung around, you felt the same way of tension as soon as you stepped into the café as last time. Jacob was surprisingly serving customers, juggling between the coffees and the pastries baking in the back office. “H-hi!” you greeted Jacob, and he slightly froze at your word, greeting you with a bright smile. You were surprised when he didn’t even ask for your order, getting straight to work and wishing him a nice day as you walked to your usual seat. However, as you took your first sip, you felt your stomach churn and a disgusting taste landing on your throat. Shivers travelled down your spine as you swallowed the bitter liquid you recognised that belonged to the iced americano. A wave of memories invaded your mind as you remembered how terrible it tasted once you took a sip from your ex’s drink, who was addicted to this type of beverage.

Jacob got your order wrong, and you swallowed thickly several times, pondering if it were a good idea to add more stress to the poor baker’s shoulders by pointing at his mistake, but you couldn’t bring yourself to drink this no matter how hard you tried. You stood up and walked to the side of the counter, waiting for the people to get served before you caught the baker’s attention. You started to calmly explain the uncomfortable situation you were in to the barista, his ears became bright red as another customer came and seemed to have your drink in your hand. The customer got extremely mad as he was apparently in a rush, yelling and cursing at the baker.

“You are paid for doing this, how could you make an order wrong? It’s not that difficult!” the man exclaimed, and you noticed Jacob’s eyes darkening. You knew that he wanted to talk back to the customer, but he didn’t plan on getting fired, so he just listened and nodded. “Jacob, don’t worry I can wait, serve him first,” you said before walking back to the table after offering him a smile, noticing him nodding again and take the two drinks that you and the other man laid on the counter.

The baker cleared his throat as he arrived a few minutes later with your correct order and a slice of chocolate cake.

“I’m sorry for giving you the wrong order. I am the only one here because Kevin is on holiday and my manager was supposed to come, but he left me in the lurch. So… I’m a bit stressed out,” Jacob explained quickly, earning a reassuring smile from him. He swallowed thickly but felt a wave of relief crash onto him as you didn’t look mad at all.  “It’s okay, Jacob, it’s human to make mistakes. If it were another drink, I wouldn’t have said anything but I really can’t drink strong coffee. Thank you for the pastry, and uhm… good luck for today?” you said as he stood up, his tired eyes shining with thankfulness as he got back behind the counter. You quickly enjoyed your food and left after trying to wave at him timidly, but sadly, he didn’t notice you.

When you visited the café on the other days, he disappeared again in the back office, Kevin taking back the lead. There, with your caramel macchiato in hand, you started daydreaming about the pastry chef, his dreamy hands and beauteous face. You imagined romantic dates and activities you could do together, such as baking you new pastries before offering them at the coffee shop or even spending a day at the park together, a lost yet gentle smile on your face.

Everything about him made you dream. He exuded comfort, fondness, and warmth, his eyes always pearly with delight. Even a blind man would not have missed how amazing and passionate he is when it came to baking. You once overheard a conversation between him and Kevin, talking about a new receipt he found on the internet and how excited he was to try it out. His soft voice never failed to make you smile, his fluffy hair making you wonder how soft it was and how good it’d feel if you carded your fingers through his locks as you hugged him.

It was undeniable and inevitable, you had tried to deny those feelings during the past few weeks, but you couldn’t reject the fact that you had a massive crush on Jacob. Kevin gently teased you about this when his friend appeared, making sure to say his name aloud to catch your attention when you sat at a table, only to watch him quickly find a hiding place. You also wished you would see him more often, feeling quite defeated to see him escape your gaze as soon as he saw you. With the number of times you came to the coffee shop and saw your friend, your crush’s brief appearances weren’t enough to fulfil your little heart’s happiness. You wanted more of him, but, much to your dismay – and secretly Jacob’s – you didn’t know what to do.

“Ah Y/N! I talked with my girlfriend today, and I was wondering if I could adopt one of the puppies? I showed her the pictures you sent me, and she is all over the moon for this one,” Kevin said as he placed your order on the tray, quickly getting his phone out after checking whether some customers were waiting or not. “Yeah, no problem!” you smiled as you recognised the crazy, adventurous one. “I asked the vet, and he told me that they are old enough to be adopted. Is it okay if you come with your girlfriend within the next few days? I can’t wait for you to have one, they are precious!” you exclaimed but calmed instantly, heart hammering in your chest as your lovely baker appeared from the back office, visibly in a bad mood. He didn’t even glance at you, his attitude sent a pang in your heart, but Kevin just shook his head, winking at you. “Can we come tonight to your place? I’m excited to meet my future baby boy!” Kevin made sure that his friend heard, noticing that he was listening carefully yet discreetly, hence his movements coming suddenly to a halt. The barista gave you a knowing smile and kept on chatting with you as if nothing happened.

That night, someone knocked at your door, and you excitedly walked to the main entrance, happily greeting the couple, and welcoming them in, eyes widening as Jacob had tagged along.

“What a great surprise!” you awkwardly mumbled, and he nodded, his smile outshining the sun as you let them all inside. Kevin and his girlfriend were quick to follow the yaps of your dogs to her newborns, leaving you with Jacob, who was quick to grab your wrist gently to make you stay with him. You mindlessly smiled, but deep down, you were sure that Kevin did this on purpose.

“I couldn’t help but hear your conversation with Kevin, and I’ve always loved dogs, and since yours gave birth, I wanted to see them,” he explained, and you smiled, heart hammering in your chest. “Yeah no worries, you are welcome here! Let’s go see them before they steal all the puppies.” 

With Jacob on your heels, you went to the spare room that became your dog’s nursery, the couple already cooing at the black puppy as you slowly opened the door.

“Look how proud she is,” his girlfriend said, looking at you with twinkling eyes. Your dog walked up to you, tail wagging as she got all the attention on her and the puppies. Since your dog only allowed you to reach inside the box, you were quick to lift the only black puppy out of the four and placed it in your friend’s arms. “I named him Squishy, I had no inspiration for the names,” you giggled as Kevin pet its belly, the puppy trying to lick his finger.

You brought everyone to the living room, where you offered your guests some drinks and started talking together. Your friend’s girlfriend was adorable, over the moon with the dog, just like Kevin had predicted it. Jacob was more on the reserved side, just like at the café, your dog climbing up the couch to rest her head on his thigh, asking for caresses. You felt a sense of betrayal rushing through your veins as she preferred a perfect stranger over you, retrieving her head every time you tried to pet her. Your dog looked at you almost with a mocking look, as if she wanted to show you that she dared to go up to him, unlike you.

It was getting late, but you were having fun, the couple confirming that they adopted the puppy. You helped packing everything necessary for the puppy and got ready to leave, thanking you for your kindness and hospitality. You were happy but felt a bit sad that someone already adopted one of the puppies. It was hard not to get attached to those cute little creatures, but you were reassured that he’d be treated like a king by living with your friends.

Jacob, on the other hand, was stuck on the couch as your dog prevented him from doing the slightest movement.

“She is quite stubborn,” Jacob shyly giggled as he tried to move his leg, only to have the dog whining and yapping. “Luna, stop! Let Jacob go, now!” you walked up to the couch, and she fled, strolling away from you each time you tried to get closer to her.

After many unsuccessful attempts, you managed to lure her into the nursery, shutting the door shut and she barked, but the apartment was quick to fall in silence.

“Finally,” you said as you went back to the living room, where Jacob was quietly admiring the photos on the wall. He gave you a quick smile and went back to his observations, you standing next to him with a slightly embarrassed smile. “It was nice to come here, but I’ll still reconsider my choices. I don’t want to decide on a whim, I wanna make sure that I’m settled and ready to welcome a puppy.” You nodded at his words, throwing him a reassuring gaze. “I completely understand, Jacob. You can take all the time you need. I’m planning on keeping one anyway, so if you change your mind, you can always come and visit,” you said, and an awkward silence installed around you two, Jacob scratching his neck as he avoided your gaze.

“Y-you know. I enjoy… what you bake, really, and I can’t wait for your next pastries,” you shyly mumbled to the man in front of you, who looked up with red adorning his cheeks. “I’m touched by what you’re telling me, thank you so much,” he said and quickly looked outside before inhaling and turning back to you.

“I’m going to go, but… I was wondering Y/N… y-you know, you’ve been friends with Kevin for a while and come around the café regularly, so I was wondering if we could also hang out, but you know… only the two of us? Maybe without Kevin?” Jacob was finding his words, thickly swallowing as he tried his best to tell you what he wanted. You giggled at the way he said things, imagining Kevin on his own while you were together. “Sure! Sure thing! You probably have a hectic schedule, but we can find something that works for the two of us?” you suggested, and he smiled, taking out his phone from his jeans pocket, holding the device with a nervous grip.

“Can I get your number, then? It’s gonna be easier to communicate rather than you coming around the café all the time. I- It’s not what I mean though, I really like having you around the shop, but you know, it’d be easier for the two of us,” you both shyly giggled as he messed up, the tip of his ears glowing bright red.

You were quick to enter your number in a new contact, confirming it before returning the phone to its owner, who gave you the warmest smile you had ever seen on his face.

“I’ll call you tomorrow then,” Jacob said as you walked him to the door, him thanking you just like your friends did. “Drive safe,” you whispered, and he nodded, giving you a soft smile before getting closer to you and softly pressing his lips on your cheek.

Your eyes widened at the sudden display of affection but smiled, feeling a wave of embarrassment invading your body. You waved at him until the elevator arrived, closing the front door with your heart pounding in your chest, doing a little dance of joy in the corridor as something concrete was starting to form between the two of you.

And the best was still yet to come. ♡

[pressedinthepages]

Family Business

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Eskel/Jaskier

Rating: T

Masterlist

a/n: Another day, another collab with Maragret @sometimesiwrite cause we just cannot stop. And this one will have cHaPtErS!!!!!!

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Modern Coffee Shop AU. Eskel and his brothers run a coffee shop. Jaskier pops in one morning. Neither can anticipate what is to come.

The bell above the door of Happy Goat Coffee and Snacks tinkled quaintly as Eskel returned from the corner store, carton of almond milk in-hand. He slipped the receipt into the till and opened the milk fridge, taking stock to see if there was anything else that couldn’t wait for Wednesday’s delivery. All seemed to be in order—Barista Blend soy and oat milks, a few bags of regular milk. He didn’t like carrying almond (bad for bees), but it was the only thing some customers could drink so… here it was. 

He turned to make himself another coffee, taking stock of their baked goods: chocolate zucchini muffins, banana bread, blueberry muffins (a few missing, Geralt’s been here…), and an assortment of granola-based snacks. The overall business plan was plant-based and/or sustainably sourced in the hopes of filling a void left by the larger chains that were the only other options in the neighbourhood. It wasn’t a bad plan, and with the increasing number of conscious-consumer parents, they were establishing a strong and loyal customer base.

    Lambert carried a tray of sourdough paninis around the counter and began transferring them into the display case, arranging them as neatly as his energetic hands would allow. It had been hell working with him for the first little bit. Lambert took after their sainted mother only in being a morning person. His general pissy attitude skipped a generation and came directly from their grandmother. But the prickly bastard knew what he was talking about, and after some… heated negotiations, they managed to agree on finding a local butcher who could provide pork belly which Lambert would turn into proper bacon in the back. They barely had the space, but he somehow made it work, and it sold very well as an add-on. I mean, he wasn’t wrong. It did taste better.

    Of course, this didn’t stop the young brother’s grumbling. He simply did it while chewing. “Lambert, could you please, please, stop eating the bacon?”

    “I’m sorry, I must be doing this wrong. Do I look like I give a fuck???”

“No, you don’t. That’s why I’m doing it for you. Just...” he sighed “don’t eat us into bankruptcy.”

“What, so Geralt can drink all the fuckin organic ass lemonade he wants but I can’t have a piece of gods-be-damned bacon???”

“Geralt drinks the—oh my God you guys are killing me—look, I will talk to Geralt about the lemonade, you can have some, some bacon, and I’m going to try my hardest not to put my head through the fucking wall. Capiche?”

Lambert watched over Eskel’s shoulder as Geralt chugged the remainder of the lemonade from his cup through narrowed eyes in his direction.

“Fine.” Lambert growled, turning back to the kitchen. “You’ve got a fucking customer, by the way, boss.”

“Don’t call—oh never mind. Hello, sorry, welcome to the Exasperated Goat. I’ve changed the name.”

“I love it,” the young man on the other side of the counter crooned, cocking his hip with a smile. “Think it’ll really capture the true essence of the neighbourhood.” Eskel was struck dumb immediately, his words falling flat on his tongue. He was trapped in a pair of dazzling blue eyes and the brightest, most open face he’d seen in a—well, a depressingly long time, if he was honest. The young man was eccentrically stylish with bright splashy colours and patterns that had no business going together as well as they did. 

Eskel wasn’t the only one transfixed. His vivacious new customer was too busy marvelling at something inexplicable behind the proprietor’s hazel-green eyes and his… aura? Was that even a thing? How long have I been standing here? Oh God, am I staring? Shit. 

Geralt swaggered behind the counter and bumped into Eskel's shoulder pointedly.

“What can I get you?” He fumbled, working hard to regain his senses.

The young man recovered more smoothly, “Cappuccino, dry please. And a chocolate zucchini muffin. Please,” he added with a cheeky grin, holding out a twenty.

Eskel took the money and their fingers brushed, just the tiniest bit—was that a linger?—but he felt the sparks fly under his skin nonetheless, and as he got to work steaming milk, he desperately tried to remember how small talk worked. The young man beat him to it. 

“How’s the morning so far?”

Eskel sighed, glancing up at him. “Not...terrible,” he said, peering over his shoulder to find Lambert now munching on a mini quiche. “Lambert keeps eating the merchandise, but I suppose it could be worse.” 

Eskel was caught up in the man’s smile again until the rapidly rising temperature of the milk that brought him back to himself. He tapped the pitcher to settle the foam and wiped the steam wand, “How’s your day been...?”

“Can’t complain,” the man shrugged, taking a sizeable bite out of the side of his muffin—an act that Lambert would have seen as a criminal offense. Eskel disguised an amused grimace. “Had a gig last night, decent turnout. One or two people I didn’t know actually showed up on purpose.” Eskel knocked a portafilter empty, cleaning it with a well-practiced twist of the wrist. The man’s eyes drifted to the espresso-stained microfibre cloth that was currently being handled so expertly and found his mind wandering, jarred back to reality as the grinder kicked on. He jumped a little. 

“Ah, you’re a musician, then?” Eskel asked over the noise.

He nodded, swallowing thickly as he took in the breadth of Eskel’s shoulders. “I like telling stories,” he called back.

“Ah, you write your own stuff, then.” Eskel knocked the edge of the portafilter against the palm of his hand to settle the espresso and Jaskier was lost again, watching large, graceful hands working with strength and precision, all in the name of a decent cup of coffee. Eskel looked at his mesmerized conversation companion, “Or do you prefer to cover?” 

“Hm? Oh, well, a bit of both. I like to cover because it gives people a sense of familiarity, like they can trust you with their evening. It sets the tone. Then I do my own stuff once I’ve got them on my side.”

Eskel cut the shot as the rich caramel colour of the dark espresso began to run lighter, and he gave it a sniff, ensuring the extraction was good before pouring in a little milk, and dolling out large quantities of foam. He passed the drink to the young man. “Extra dry.”

“Ah, my hero,” the young man wrapped his hands around the cup and brought it to his lips. “Mmm, delicious as always.” 

“Always?” Eskel asked, tearing his eyes away from the young musician’s long, slender fingers. “Y-you’ve been in here? I don’t—I’d’ve thought I’d remember you.” 

“Mhm, I usually pop in in the afternoons though, it’s typically Geralt over there who’s working.” He waggled his fingers over Eskel’s shoulder and he heard Geralt grunt in acknowledgment.

“Ah, yes. He takes over from me so I can go home and sleep. Well, rather forces me to. It’s hard to remember there’s a home when you spend most of your time at your own business. You hear people talk about self-care? Mine’s Geralt.”

And the young man, who Eskel thought was incapable of being any more charming, laughed so brightly and earnestly that Eskel could’t stop the grin that spread to his own face—not that he’d’ve wanted to. 

"I suppose that's what partners are for, isn't it?" he said flippantly, adding a dash of nutmeg to the foam in his cup and stirring in a little honey. 

"Pardon?" 

"To remind you there's something other than work, you know, house and family and—" 

"Oh, uh, no—business partner. Geralt's just a—well not just. He's my brother." 

"Ah! I'm so sorry, I just assumed... You know, urban cafe, tasteful decore, and then you mentioned he’s your self-care. Most people aren't that close with their siblings is all." 

Eskel nodded, "Our other brother's in charge of the kitchen. It's... a long story, but, here we are!" 

Eskel watched as the young man took a deep breath through his nose, seemingly steeling himself. He was then met with those striking eyes again as a napkin was slid across the counter, just barely brushing his fingertips. “In that case...would you like to get dinner sometime?”

"I—what?" Eskel shook his head, not quite believing what he was hearing. 

The young man smiled again,"It's alright. I'm just giving you a napkin with my number on it. You can use it to communicate with me. You know, texting? Call me? Maybe eat some food?" 

"But I—I don't understand, why?" 

The young man playfully rolled his eyes, "If you're not interested, you can just say so."

“No! No, I absolutely am, I’m ju-“ Eskel stammered, trying desperately to keep from sticking his foot in his mouth and driving the young man away,“I’m just not sure why you are.”

The young man just laughed brightly, his blue eyes flashing beneath dark lashes, "Because you're handsome, hard-working, and the way we've connected just now gives me a hunch. Besides, how long has it been since you had a chance to get away and go to dinner with someone?" 

Eskel eyed his customer, thought for a moment, and tapped the napkin before picking it up. "Walk first, then dinner. I hate starting dates like a third-degree."

The young man set down his coffee and held out his hand, beckoning to Eskel over the counter. As he came around, he offered his hand in return, and was shocked by the—could he call it intimacy?—of the musician’s hand gently closing around his. It may as well have been an embrace. “I-“ and of course his voice cracked. Eskel cleared his throat with a chuckle, finding those beautiful baby blues once more. “I’m Eskel.”

"Julian. Stage name is Jaskier. You can call me either, it doesn't really matter." 

Eskel smiled warmly, "It's nice to meet you, Julian." 

"Likewise, Eskel. I, uh, I should get going. But. Text me, we'll make plans."

Eskel watched as Julian left, his stride long and confident. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring into empty space, but at some point Geralt once again appeared to nudge against his shoulder. “Better save that napkin, brother.”

Eskel nodded at the flimsy paper in his hand, looking at the digits like they were an ancient cipher that needed decoding. "Better yet..." Geralt said, surreptitiously grabbing Eskel's phone from off the counter, unlocking it, and texting, Hope you have a good day.

"Here you go," Geralt said, handing the phone back to Eskel before pouring himself a drip.

Eskel’s stomach simultaneously lept into his throat and fell onto the floor. “Geralt,” he breathed, watching the *read* message pop up, “well now what? By the way,” Eskel suddenly turned, wagging his finger at the end of Geralt’s nose, “quit drinking all of the merchandise!”

“First off, now he can actually text you back instead of waiting to hear from you all day, which is exactly what would happen if left to your own devices. Secondly... Lambert said he wouldn’t tell you.” 

Eskel shook his head, mouth agape, “Unbelievable.”

Eskel’s fingers itched as he continued about his morning business, his phone silent in his pocket. He had nearly given it up as a lost cause when it finally chimed, and then he almost sent the phone flying across the store in his haste. 

So sorry for the late reply, Eskel. I was on the metro and then I had to run off downtown and then, alas, my phone died. I should really get one of those portable battery things. Ah well. Thank you for the well wishes!! It really brightened my day once I finally got them 😍😍😍

Eskel exhaled deeply. Okay, this was okay, this was good. He typed and deleted. Retyped. Deleted. Geralt reappeared over his shoulder, glancing at the text no worries, wanted to make sure you had my number. Geralt shook his head and took a sip of coffee before grabbing Eskel’s phone and typing, no worries, glad you got it sorted. Hope the metro wasn’t too much of a disaster. Geralt handed Eskel his phone to peruse the message.

“When did you get good at texting?” Eskel murmured as he pressed ‘send.’ Geralt merely shrugged as he ambled away, clearly in search of something to snack on as he finished inventory and ordering. Eskel called over his shoulder, “Would you please make more lemonade since you drank it all?!?!” 

As Geralt’s hum in the affirmative hit his ears so did the chime of his phone.

Not bad at all! Only one shouty person, and he didn't even hurl obscenities after me :D Although a mother with a very large stroller gave me a rather impressive side-eye as I sat down with my guitar tucked between my feet and mumbled something about manspreading. Some days it's the little things that get you through 🙃

Eskel replied, That sounds about right for 2 in the afternoon. Too bad you didn't see the Singing Man, he'll really give your day a kick you didn't know it needed.

You know what would give my day a good kick? A lovely walk with a lovely man ;) 

And Eskel blushed. Full on blushed. Lambert snorted from where he hovered in the doorway. 

“Go on, lover boy,” Lambert smirked, taking a bite out of another goddam slice of bacon. “We’ve got it covered.”

He rubbed his face. It was hard to think straight. He'd been up since 4:30, and part of him just wanted to go home and sleep, but it was also the first sunny day they'd seen in what felt like over a month, and the idea of a nice walk with some light conversation wasn't unappealing in the least. He frowned at Lambert, "How do you even know it's him that texted?" 

"Because you just turned three shades of pink and stared at your phone like it's a piece of alien technology." 

Eskel grumbled and turned back to his phone. Would be nice to get some company and fresh air. What part of town are you in? Meet in the middle?

Meanwhile, Julian was on the metro. Again. His leg bounced where he was sitting, reading the same paragraph of some random book over and over again. He knew it was a long shot coming all the way back to the coffee shop—Eskel might be done for the day and gone home or out doing shopping or—but it could be worth it. He lept off at his stop and bounded up the stairs, and his phone dinged with a delayed notification. He smiled at his phone and stowed it away, walking as fast as he possibly could until he saw the familiar sign of the coffee shop. Julian slowed down so that he didn’t cross the line from ‘windswept’ into ‘desperate’ and peered into the little window. He spotted Eskel immediately, his back to the door and speaking with another man behind the counter, presumably Lambert. Julian smiled and pushed open the door.

"Whoa-ho-ho, Pretty Boy at twelve o'clock." 

Eskel looked up from Jaskier's Spotify account and quickly closed his phone. "I suggested halfway, I hope you didn't come all the way across town."

Now it was Julian’s turn to stammer a bit, his tongue feeling too large for his mouth as his eyes swept across Eskel’s form. Since this morning, it had clearly been a busy day. His cheeks were flushed and his hair curling at the nape of his neck, and he had even caught a glimpse of luscious chest hair peeking out from the sharp v-neck that pulled across his chest. “I-“ Julian grinned to himself, come on, keep it together, “I was already on the metro when you texted back, so I figured I’d just...come here!”

Eskel narrowed his eyes and hummed. "Want a drink before we head out?" 

"Oh sure, we can't eat the merchandise but you can give away free drinks to anyone who flirts with you?" 

"I—You—would you just..." 

Jaskier cut in, "I think you'll find that actually exactly how it works. Bit of an unspoken code. People have started taking advantage of it to get free coffee, though. Makes it hard for those of us who mean it..." Julian's eyes met Eskel's for a lingering second and Eskel had to remind himself to breathe. "London Fog, please, Eskel. But I'm happy to pay. I know tea is less expendable." 

"Hm. See, Lambert? It's a barista thing."

Lambert rolled his eyes as Eskel steeped the Earl Gray in a bit of hot water, added vanilla, and steamed some milk. He carefully slid the finished beverage over the counter, one of his hands finding the tie at the back of his apron. “So...” he said, trying to decide between meeting or avoiding Julian’s intense gaze, “would you like that for here, or to go?”

"I think you'll find it's already in a to-go cup," Julian said, raising an eyebrow. 

"That's because we're getting the hell out of here," Eskel said, and—much to Julian's instant pleasure and amusement—fluidly traversed the service counter, landing deftly on the other side. "I just need to change my shoes, and I'll be up in a second." Julian looked down to see Eskel's black work shoes covered with espresso and nodded, blowing on his tea as he watched, leaving him with the Prickly Brother, staring at him as he chewed his bacon. 

Julian sipped his tea and peered over the rim at Lambert, who had been scowling at him the entire time. Though he didn’t take it personally, it was likely that was just his face. “So,” Julian started, thrumming his fingers on the side of the paper cup, “you’re the one who’s been eating all of the merchandise?”

Lambert scoffed and scowled sideways, the last piece of bacon sticking out from the corner of his mouth. He nudged himself off the back counter and swaggered close to Julian. "Listen. I don't know what your deal is. But if you fuck him over, you will have two very big, very pissed off brothers to deal with. Got it?" 

"Fuck him over what?"

"'Scuse me?" Lambert said, scowling harder. 

"You said not to fuck him over, but didn't specify what."

It took Lambert a moment, but he granted himself one singular chuckle for the little shit. “Alright, kid. Just- be careful with him.” 

Julian smiled gently, peering over Lambert’s shoulder to where Eskel was striding back into the shop. “He seems like the kind of guy that I will certainly be trying my best to keep around.”

“Better believe it. You can spend your whole life looking, you won’t find a better guy than Eskel. He’s a fucking goldmine. But he’s our goldmine. Take his shine, you answer to us.”

“Yes, sir,” Julian mock saluted as Eskel handed something to Lambert. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a piece of bacon. 

“Geralt’s in charge,” Eskel rumbled (which Julian found enticing) and with that, he turned on his heel and pulled open the door. He held it open and Julian smiled as the two of them stepped into the evening sun.

Eskel took a deep breath as soon as they stepped into the fresh air, letting the warm sunlight spill across his face. It was beautiful to look at. His hair glinted with little chestnut highlights and his arching eyebrows became even more pronounced in contrast with the brightness of his skin in the evening glow. Julian watched the muscles of his face relax, the pressure of greeting people slowly dissolving. His shoulders dropped, and he looked truly exhausted for a moment before opening his eyes and smiling softly. “So, Julian. Do you like dog parks?”

Julian braced an excited hand on the swell of Eskel’s arm (and my gods it was firm), “I would love to go to the dog park...but will it be odd if we just show up, without a dog?”

Eskel laughed and Julian felt his knees go a bit wobbly and he tucked his arm around Eskel’s for support. He noticed Eskel glance down. Ah, right, a bit forward. Easy Jaskier. Julian smoothly transitioned to holding his cup with both hands and Eskel smirked privately, appreciating the non-verbal understanding. “No, not really. We can find a bench if it’s not too cold, lots of people come by and watch. Not everyone in the city can have an animal, people are pretty understanding of onlookers.” Julian still looked skeptical, “c’mon, it’s not like going to a playground. I promise we won’t be creepy.”

“Well...” Jaskier smiled, flipping his hair out of his eyes, “lead the way.” 

Eskel walked slowly, stretching their time (and his legs) as much as he could. They made polite, easy small talk, finding little details about each other as they walked.

It turned out that they had surprisingly similar tastes in music, and Jaskier was both pleased and intimidated to learn that Lambert doubled as a DJ on weekends at one of the more popular clubs downtown. He was further surprised to learn that their father owned and operated one of the oldest Italian restaurants in the city and was quite famous because of it—he’d opened it as an homage to his Italian wife when she passed away unexpectedly—and while Papa Vesemir himself was Polish, he’d learned to cook from the best. 

It seemed they were a culinary family, in fact. Both Lambert and Geralt had trained in professional settings—Geralt had a background in baking, while Lambert had trained on the line with his father. Eskel, it turned out, preferred to be behind the bar. He liked people. Enjoyed making drinks. His father always joked that he had the “magic touch.” Every drink he made always came out tasting better, even if he followed the recipe to a T.

“So, why the coffee shop?” Julien asked as they rounded the corner of the dog park. They both smiled as they saw fluffballs of all shapes and sizes bounding around, and Eskel led them to a small bench.

He kicked his feet out in front of him and sipped his own coffee thoughtfully. “It was something we all knew how to do, and we saw a niche missing in the neighborhood. We had originally wanted to make it a bit more of a hub for artists and public resources—you know, host workshops, put up fliers, put artists’ work on the walls to sell. It isn’t quite where we want it yet, but it’s our old neighborhood. Wanted to give something back to the community. Plus, we like having regulars. You don’t get the same thing with restaurants. Cafes, though, you can get to know people better. Build loyalty.” 

Julian sat for a moment, looking at Eskel with a deeper appreciation than he already had. “You’re amazing,” he breathed, the words spilling from his lips without so much as a second thought. 

Eskel flushed even deeper, his neck a very pretty shade of pink. “I wouldn’t say all that...” 

“But I would,” Julian nodded, downing the remainder of his tea. “You’ve created something beautiful in a place that’s meaningful to you with your family, that’s amazing. And I’m allowed to say that, because I personally decide what is and is not amazing.”

“Fair enough,” Eskel raised an eyebrow and hid a smirk behind another sip of coffee. “It’s just... well everyone’s gone and opened up a coffee shop now, and it’s getting harder to see where our niche still sits. It’s a diverse neighborhood, we don’t want to alienate anyone, but we have to stay open... ah, I dunno. I suppose anything seems unremarkable if you’ve been waist-deep in the logistics for long enough.” 

“Do you have open mic nights?” 

“What?” 

“Open mic nights, you know, local artists bring their instruments, read poetry, play music, promote new albums while people buy alcohol and food?” 

Eskel tilted his head, “Huh...” 

“Yeah. Huh.” Julian nudged Eskel’s shoulder playfully. 

“The only issue with that is hours. We’d have to hire more staff and/or open later in the day so we can stay open.” 

“You could man a proper bar again,” Julian sang, jiggling his foot at the end of his crossed leg. 

Eskel reached an arm up and over and around Julian’s shoulder, “Julian, either you’re a remarkable person and I don’t know what on earth you could possibly want with me... or you’ve been sent by one of our competitors to play a long con and put us out of business.”

Julian tried valiantly to hide the shiver that ran down his spine just with the proximity, the weight of Eskel’s arm resting comfortably on his shoulders. “Well, if I told you that, then I’d have to kill you,” Julian smirked. Eskel threw his head back and laughed, reveling in the rejuvenating aura of the delight of a human that had deposited himself at his side.

“Hmmm, shall we keep walking? Or—I don’t want to keep you if you’ve got things to do,” his gaze on Julian was sincere and unassuming and the young musician was certain he’d never had less sense of any ulterior motives than he did in this moment. 

“I should drop my things home before work, actually. But we can walk for a bit in the same direction if you like.” 

Eskel shrugged, “Sure! Which way are we headed?” 

“I’m an Eastender,” Julian smirked. “Off we go!” He offered his elbow for Eskel to take, which he did—a little tentatively and far more gently than Julian would ever have expected from someone so... physically imposing.

Eskel could feel the persistent thrum of blood under his skin, but not in a way that signalled any particular desire. He felt comfortable, more content than he had been in a very long time, and he felt like he could easily waste an entire day doing exactly what they’d been doing for the last hour. Walking, talking, laughing... 

“What are you thinking about?” Julian asked, looking up at Eskel and stealing his breath in the same movement.

“I’m—uh—“ he cleared his throat again, “I’m thinking about how pleasant this has been and... also how comfortable I feel. I—well, I get the jitters, usually. With this kind of thing Which is not to say I haven’t still got them but,” they stopped walking for a moment, and Eskel turned to face his date, “what I’m trying to say is you’re very comfortable to be around. And that’s new.” 

“Wow... honesty. I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“I’m sorry did-did I...?” 

“Just make me more impressed?” That damn smile, “yes, I’m afraid you did. How tragic.”

Just like that, Eskel was lost again, caught up in those eyes that shone with an enigmatic innocence and penetrating observation that kept him looking and left him speechless. And Julian... well Julian was uncharacteristically at a loss for words in front of this stunningly kind, unbearably-gentle man he'd impulsively taken a chance on just a few hours ago because of a hunch. 

Eskel wondered whether Julian had leaned a bit closer during their few seconds of silence and countered, leaning forward a little himself. But he didn't want to make the young man think he was in it for the wrong reasons. The fact that he was older and larger wasn't lost on him, and the last thing he wanted was for Julian to feel any pressure. Those bright blue eyes flitted to Eskel's lips, and he swallowed, waiting. But Julian's intuition was too strong—Eskel was hesitating. Instead of following his eyes to the full, soft-looking lips in front of him, Julian placed his hands on Eskel's chest and dispersed the tension. 

“If we don’t keep walking I’m going to freeze my ass off,” Julian finally said. 

Eskel huffed a small laugh. “Come on then,” he jutted his chin, and the two started walking again. 

After a brief silence, Julian spoke, suddenly worried that Eskel felt rejected in some way, “For what it’s worth, I also feel quite comfortable. With you, I mean.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I find I’m starting to move away from the Village scene. It’s always nice to have a community, of course, be able to go to a bar and know you’re in good company but... in the city, everyone’s trying on identities and—it’s all well and good, they should, but it’s just... well, it was fun for a while. I just want to play music and make people happy.” 

“Hm. I can relate to that.”

Julian stopped at the top of the street that would lead him to his apartment, not really wanting the evening to end, wondering whether Eskel was aware exactly how much he’d brightened Julian’s day. 

“C-would you...I mean, if I- or-“ Eskel stuttered, his fingers fiddling at his sides. 

“Go on...” Julian crooked his head with a gentle smile. 

“Would you mind if I came to one of your shows?”

Julian closed his hands around Eskel’s shoulders and looked directly into his eyes. “Good God, please come to one of my shows so I can look at a face that wants to be there instead of my bored friends.” 

“Well, I’m sorry it has to be my face,” Eskel fumbled in his self-consciousness, hearing the sound of his own distasteful insecurity. He grimaced inwardly. bad form, Eskel. 

“Hm. Clearly, you haven’t met my pimply weak-chinned-not-at-all-utterly-dashing friends.” It was so easy. Ludicrously easy, the way Julian made Eskel smile in that moment. It truly was a remarkable feat, one that none of Eskel’s former failed romances had ever navigated as easily, or as quickly.

“Thank you,” Eskel said quietly, only for Julian’s ears. 

“Whatever for?” Julian’s brow crinkled adorably and Eskel wanted to smooth the creases away with his thumbs. 

“For...for being bold. Because I know I wouldn’t have.”

“Oh please. This is all stage presence and bravado. I’ve been on the verge of a nervous breakdown since I wrote my number on that napkin. Listen, I’ve—ahh I hate to do this but I really have got to run. We can text later or I’ll pop by the cafe tomorrow and—“ 

“Absolutely, do your thing, I don’t want to make you late. Let me know when you’re free and we’ll grab dinner.” 

“I’ll check my schedule tonight. Should be free in the next few days. Have a good night, Eskel. I mean that.” Julian turned to go, but turned back, quickly pecking a kiss to Eskel’s right cheek, leaving the man standing with a half-smile of surprise on his face as he watched his new love interest scurry into his apartment.

Eskel walked back to the coffee shop, his cheeks pained from the smile that still hadn’t faded. The little bell above the door chimed and Geralt looked up from where was wiping down the counter, and Eskel heard a loud clang as Lambert dropped a metal pan and came running to the front of the now-empty cafe.

Eskel stood in front of his brothers. Geralt’s hand stopped where it was mid-wipe and Lambert fidgeted where he stood, hands on his hips. “So??”

Eskel hadn’t seen Lambert this energetic in a long time, and stood silently, drinking in his little brother’s excitement. Geralt came out from behind the counter, “Eskel. I don’t want to beat it out of you, but you’re leaving me with very few options.” 

“Nah, Geralt, you gotta use smaller words. He’s clearly having a stroke. Eskel!” Lambert clapped loudly, “How did. It go. With Pretty Boy. C’mon, we’re tryna close up here!”

Eskel finally spoke, “I—yeah, it was great. I, uh, I really like him.” 

“Fucking finALLY, BROTHER, THAT’S FUCKIN’ AMAZING!” Lambert practically jumped on Eskel, and Geralt sauntered over to put an arm around his shoulder. “You call Dad yet?” 

“No, I want to wait. I want to make sure this time. Don’t wanna get his hopes up. Plus he’s... well, he’s a bit younger—“ 

Lambert cut him off, “Whoa, I’m gonna stop you right there. What do you always do?” 

“Self-sabotage.” 

“Exactly. So shut up with that shit. You like him, yes?” 

“Yes. Definitely, very much.” 

“And he likes you.” 

“Well I mean—“ 

“That wasn’t a question. He likes you. End of discussion. He’s an adult, let him decide what he wants. Geralt?” 

“Surprisingly sound logic, coming from you. Frightening, actually.”

Eskel nodded along as his brothers bickered back and forth. He felt like he was floating on air, without a tether to the ground. 

“Oh, fuck, he’s really gone for him isn’t he?” Lambert muttered, watching Eskel’s eyes glaze over once more.

Eskel smirked and shook his head, “Fuck off, Lambert.” He playfully shoved his brother’s head to the side and went to count out the till and take it downstairs. He just sat down by the safe when his phone pinged.

Free for dinner day-after-tomorrow, playing a gig tomorrow night and Friday. Which would you prefer first?

Eskel smiled and typed out a response of his own, sending it before he could rethink it. Could I come to tomorrow’s gig and take you to dinner Thursday? I really want to see you again.

He felt his breath immediately quicken, but his hand was steady as he waited for a reply. 

*...* 

*...* 

*...* 

Oh Jesus God please just reply...

Gig tomorrow is at 8:30, Gibson’s Pub in Corktown. $5 cover and also $5 Mill St. on tap. Dinner on Thursday it is. Not fussy, but nothing too spicy. Your choice 😊

Not quite sure what we should do for dinner, but I’m sure I’ll think of something. I won’t miss it for the world. Meanwhile, Eskel knew exactly where he’d be going for dinner. He shot off a text to his father and requested a quiet table for 2 at his restaurant. Papa Vesemir never asked too many questions, but he knew he’d have to explain later.

If you have the opportunity to save the world rather than listen to me play Wonderwall at someone’s request, please do. You can hear that literally any time you want.

For my favorite son, what wouldn’t I do?

Eskel replied to both: That’s a tall order. Watching you begrudgingly play Wonderwall could let me die a happy man.

Thanks, Pops. I know you’re not working that night, just tell Giulio nothing fancy, okay? Just a normal two-top.

Eskel’s phone dinged twice more: Oh my gods, you really are trying to kill me aren't you? You’re too sweet ;)

Mhm.

Eskel continued on with Julian, content with leaving Vesemir to finish his night. Don’t get me wrong, there would be a deep amusement in knowing how much you definitely hate that song by now.

Oh, I absolutely despise it and it needs to go die horribly in a dumpster somewhere. At least now I’ll have a confidante tomorrow evening. You know, someone to really share my suffering with.

Will you play any of your originals? 

Would you like me to?

Only if you want. I understand if you’d rather not share them right away. 

Julian was quickly realizing the extent to which he had, very much, struck a gold mine. Part of him couldn’t help but wonder what was waiting around the corner to make things not work out This Time. But he shoved those thoughts back. I share my music every week with people who’ve either heard it all before, or are too distracted to really care. Mostly Tinder dates trying to gain hipster points. Please. I would be so happy to know you’re there and actually wanting to listen.

Eskel felt his heart flutter in his chest as he rested his elbows on the desk with a crooked smile. 

I can’t wait, I’m sure they’re wonderful :) Eskel wasn’t really one to use emojis, but this one just kinda...slipped out.

He was whistling by the time he got to the top of the stairs and his brothers were already waiting for him, jackets on, lights out, floors mopped, door ready to be locked. 

“Dinner? Eskel said, trying to wipe what he knew was a stupid grin off his face. 

“Where to, lover boy?” 

Eskel deferred to Geralt, “Hmmm. China down?” 

“Mother Dumpling?” Eskel offered, pulling his collar up as they headed out, Geralt and Lambert sounding their agreement. With the cafe door closed and locked, the three brothers headed out into the evening.

[thewidowsghost]

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 2

3rd Person POV

By the age of nine, Jean and Tom Granger found that their adopted daughter (Y/n) was quite a peculiar child. It wasn't just the strange hourglass scar on her neck, but she was incredibly smart, picking things up that most kids in high school wouldn't understand.

By Year Five of school, (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger had aced all of her classes on top of taking Year Nine level classes - Geometry and AP Biology.

And by the age of ten, (Y/n) was fluent in Russian, French, and Spanish.

The eldest Grangers also learned that their adopted daughter was extremely athletic. (Y/n) had played football - what Americans called soccer - and was top of her class in her Karate and JiuJitzu classes.

(Y/n) was also an inventor. She could come up with solutions to problems that Jean Granger had told her that most adults couldn't solve. She had built her first circuit board at the age of five and her first engine at the age of eight.

The Grangers' had put a shed in their backyard where their adopted daughter was always tinkering with things she would buy or was gifted from neighbors.

It wasn't to say that Jean and Tom's other daughter wasn't smart, for Hermione Granger was very intelligent. But all three - including Hermione - knew that (Y/n) was on a whole different level of intelligence.

Hermione Jean Granger wakes on July 26th of 1991 to her sister standing over her, a wide smile on her face.

The two sisters - even considering that (Y/n) was adopted - looked nothing alike. Hermione had frizzy brown hair and chocolate brown eyes, whereas (Y/n) had sleek (H/C) hair and brilliant green eyes. There was a strange thing about (Y/n)'s appearance though, she had an hourglass shaped scar on the side of her neck. (Y/n) liked the scar, but it reminded her of black widows, which wasn't great because (Y/n) didn't like spiders.

Hermione sit up in her bed, pushing her covers off her.

After the two use the bathroom - (Y/n) taking a quick shower and leaving her hair damp - they make their way downstairs to find their parents already in the kitchen.

"Morning girls," Mrs. Granger greets her daughters as she places breakfast on the table.

"Morning Mum," (Y/n) and Hermione say in unison.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Granger were dressed for work - they were dentists at the local dentists' office a few miles away.

After the four finish breakfast, there is a knock on the door.

Looking slightly confused, Mr. Granger stands up from the table and walks towards the door.

He opens it to see a very stern looking woman with black hair and blue eyes.

"Good morning," Mr. Granger greets the woman.

"Good morning, sir," the black haired woman says. "Are your daughters home? I'm here about a scholarship, per say, for a new school."

(Y/n) and Hermione exchange excited looks.

"Yes, they are here," Mr. Granger answers the woman. "Would you like to come in?"

The woman nods and steps inside the neat house.

"Hermione! (Y/n)!" Tom Granger calls and the two girls rise from their chairs simultaneously and walk out into the living room.

(Y/n) waves shyly at the woman, surprising the other Grangers. (Y/n) was never shy.

A small smile spreads across the woman's face at the slight of (Y/n) and catches sight of the hourglass scar on her neck.

"Hermione and (Y/n), was it?" the woman asks and the two nod.

"I'm Professor McGonagall. I'm here about a school for gifted people like yourselves," the woman says.

(Y/n) and Hermione exchange gazes, like a clashing forest, brown on green.

"It might be hard to believe, but the two of you, you're witches," McGonagall says and (Y/n)'s gaze flashes a silver, almost too quickly for McGonagall to see, but the woman does.

This sends a flash of curiosity though McGonagall, but she holds out two letters.

(Y/n) and Hermione step forward and take the letters from the Professor.

Miss (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger 100 Crestent View Ln. The Third Largest Bedroom Hampstead, London

"That's so very incredibly specific," (Y/n) murmurs. Opening the letter, she quickly reads:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress

(Y/n) looks suspiciously at the letter for a moment before looking up. "Are you sure?" (Y/n) asks. "I'm not anyone special. I can't be a witch."

At the comment about (Y/n) being no one special, the other three Grangers exchange looks that McGonagall presumed to mean that they though that the statement wasn't true.

"Has nothing ever happened when you were afraid or nervous?" McGonagall asks and a flash of realization flashes behind (Y/n)'s eyes. "If you two have to go to work," McGonagall turns to Jean and Tom, "I can take the girls to find their school things."

(Y/n) looks excitedly over at her mother and father, "Mum, Dad, can we?"

Jean looks at McGonagall and nods.

Hermione and (Y/n) grin at each other.

"Go get dressed and then you can go," McGonagall says, smiling softly at the girls' excitement.

(Y/n) and Hermione run up the stairs.

(Y/n) goes to her bedroom and opens her closet door. She pulls out a black AC DC t-shirt and a pair of jean shorts from her dresser.

Thinking for a moment, she grabs a zip up hoodie and throws it on, placing her wallet inside one of the pockets.

(Y/n) stops at her sister's room and a moment later, Hermione pops out, dressed in a pair of jeans and a short sleeved t-shirt.

"So, what do you think about this?"  (Y/n) asks as the two make their way down the stairs.

"I think it's interesting, us being witches and all," Hermione answers as the two enter the living room where they find their mother asking McGonagall to keep her daughters safe.

McGonagall, (Y/n), and Hermione walk outside and McGonagall tells the two girls to take her hand.

They do, and they're suddenly somewhere else. (Y/n) and Hermione look up to see a sign, which reads, The Leaky Cauldron.

They walk inside.

It was a small, tiny, grubby-looking pub. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. All of a sudden, the low buzz of chatter stopped when two people walked in. One of them was a very tall man, he almost looked to big to be allowed. He had long black hair and a black beard. The other was a small boy with jet-black hair, bottle green eyes, and light skin. The bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said the man who must have Hagrid, clapping his great hand on boy's shoulder and making his knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at the black haired boy, "is this — can this be — ?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. "Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter ... what an honor."

(Y/n) studies the boy for a moment, then he looks over at her, as though sensing her eyes on him.

The old bartender hurries out from behind the bar, rushes towards Harry and seizes his hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back." The boy didn't seem know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry was shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand — I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."

"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle.

(Y/n)'s POV

I look up at Professor McGonagall who looks at me with a question evident in her eyes, though I couldn't tell what it was.

McGonagall follows Harry and Hagrid out of the pub, Hermione and I following.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh — mind you, he's usually tremblin'." Hagrid was saying.

"Is he always that nervous?" Harry asks.

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience. ... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag — never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject — now, where's me umbrella?" Hagrid responds. "Three up ... two across ..." he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry." He taps the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered — it wriggled — in the middle, a small hole appeared — it grew wider and wider — a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. Hagrid and Harry proceed to walk through the archway.

McGonagall follows the two and Hermione and I follow close behind.

"The first stop for us is the wizarding bank, Gringotts," McGonagall says leading Hermione and I towards a large, grand, white building that looked over the rest of Diagon Alley.

The doors open and we walk in, the doors closing behind us. We walk over to what looks like a Santa Clause elf - pointy ears and relatively short.

"Good morning," McGonagall says, pulling out a golden key, "we need to visit Miss (L/n)'s vault."

"And does Miss (L/n) have her key?" the goblin asks.

McGonagall hands the goblin the key in her hand. "Very well," he says, handing the key back to McGonagall, who, in turn, hands it to me.

"I'll have someone take you down to the vault. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Hermione, Professor McGonagall, and I follow Griphook towards one of the doors leading off the hall.

Griphook holds the door open for us.

We walk into a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It slopes steeply downwards and there are little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart comes hurtling up the tracks towards us. We climb in and are then off.

When the cart finally stops, the four of us get out stopped in front vault 714.

"Key please," Griphook says and I hand him my key.

I was confused though, because Vault 714 had no keyhole.

Griphook simply examines the key closely, and then hands it back to me. I guessed that they key must just be confidential.

"Stand back," says Griphook importantly. He strokes the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melts away. "If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," says Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Hermione asks curiously.

"About once every ten years," Griphook answers with a rather nasty grin.

3rd Person POV

Griphook steps aside and (Y/n) and Hermione's eyes go wide at the sheer amount of gold, silver, and bronze coins inside.

"This is mine?" (Y/n) asks Professor McGonagall, who smiles softly, holding out a drawstring bag.

"Your mother was very addiment on leaving most of her gold to you," McGonagall says and (Y/n) nods dumbly as she takes the bag.

Hermione helps (Y/n) scoop some of the coins into the bag. Though they had taken quite a bit of coins, it didn't even seem to make a dent in the large piles.

"The gold ones are Galleons," Professor McGonagall explains as (Y/n) studies a wooden box in front of the truckloads of gold coins. "There are seventeen silver Sickles to a galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle."

(Y/n) nods absently as she opens the box, Hermione next to her.

Inside, she sees a stack of letters and a few pictures.

Hermione holds out her bag, and (Y/n) closes the box, placing it inside the bag.

(Y/n) smiles gratefully at her sister as Hermione pulls her backpack back onto her back.

One wild cart ride later, the three stand blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts.

Hermione pulls out her letter, and (Y/n) reads over her sister's shoulder:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Uniform

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black) 2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear 3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar) 4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

Course books:

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)by Miranda Goshawk A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungiby Phyllida Spore Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them by Newt Scamander The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment:

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) I set glass or crystal phials 1 telescope 1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Where do we even start?" Hermione asks in amazement.

"If we get are cauldrons first, we can put our other supplies in it," (Y/n) thinks quickly.

Hermione nods and then both look up to Professor McGonagall, who smiles softly and leads the two to the Apothecary where they pick up two cauldrons and two supplies of basic potions ingredients for Hermione and (Y/n).

"Books now, 'Mione?" (Y/n) asks with a grin as they are about to pass a large bookshop.

Hermione shoots her sister a grin and the two girls walk into the bookshop, McGonagall waiting outside with their cauldrons and potions ingredients.

(Y/n)'s POV

Hermione grabs two of each of our course books while I look around at some of the other books. I grab: Hogwarts: A History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Modern Magical History, Great Wizarding Events of teh Twentieth Century, and a book that looked like it was for kids titled, The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

The next place we went was called Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Inside were two boys one was the Raven haired boy from the Leaky Cauldron; the other was a short boy with blond hair that was greased back; he had a mean attitude about him.

Harry's POV (A couple minutes before)

Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so I entered Madam Malkin's shop.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when I started to speak. "Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood me a on stool slipped a long robe over my head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yeah," I said, not really liking him very much.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," I say.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"Nope," I respond.

"I do – Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," I say. I really don't like this boy, I thought.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," I say, wishing I could say something a bit more interesting.

"I say, look at that man!" says the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at me and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," I tell him, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," says the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," I say. I was liking this boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage – lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," I say coldly.

"Do you?" says the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," I say shorty. He seemed not to want to talk to this boy any more than he needed to.

"Oh, sorry," says the other boy, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean." I respond.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways."

A tinkling of a bell interrupts the boy. I look over to see two girls walk in.

"Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

But before I could answer, Madam Malkin says, "That's you done, my dear," and I, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hop down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," says the drawling boy.

3rd Person POV

A few minutes later, (Y/n) and Hermione walk into the bright sunlit alley, their robes folded neatly in a bag.

(Y/n) smiles at Professor McGonagall and places her robes into the cauldron, then (Y/n) lifts up the heavy cauldron, Hermione doing the same with her own.

"What next?" Hermione asks Professor McGonagall.

"You two still need wands," answers McGonagall, pointing towards a store.

As we walk closer, I read the sign, Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

The three of walk inside. A tinkling bell ring somewhere in the depths of the shop as they step inside, and an old man walks to the desk from teh deep recesses of the shop.

"Hello, good afternoon," the man says. "I am Mr. Ollivander. You two are here for wands I presume?" he asks and Hermione and (Y/n) nod.

"(Y/n) (L/n)," Mr. Ollivander says, "I was wondering if I was going to be seeing you soon." he pauses, looking carefully into (Y/n)'s eyes. "Your mother's eyes." At the statement, (Y/n)'s eyes seem to light up with curiosity. "It seems that only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Twelve inches, ash wood with a unicorn hair core. Good for stubborn and courageous witches and wizards."

Even at this small amount of information, (Y/n) had perked up. Hermione glances over at her adopted sister and feels a rush of pity for her. She can't imagine not knowing who her parents were.

It wasn't that (Y/n) didn't remember, because she did have very vivid nighmares about a car slamming on the brakes, a flash of green light, then red, then everything would go dark. It always ended the same way however, with Mrs. Granger carrying a two year old (Y/n), who was clutching her black and white stuffed cat, back to her home.

(Y/n) wrenches herself out of her thoughts as Ollivander approaches her. He had come so close that he and (Y/n) were almost nose to nose.

"And that's where . . ."

Mr. Ollivander touches the hourglass shaped car on the side of (Y/n)'s neck with a long white finger.

"I'm sorry to say that I sold the wand that did it," he says softly and (Y/n) looks back up into the wand maker's misty silver eyes. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands . . . well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do . . ."

He stops, and (Y/n) continues to watch the wand maker, her green eyes flashing silver for the second time that day.

Ollivander, as though sensing (Y/n)'s desire to know more, moves onto Hermione, and she quickly revives her "Vine wood, Dragon heart-string, 10 1/4 inches, unyielding" wand.

(Y/n)'s POV

Again, the same process commences with me, but I end up trying more wands then Hermione. Finally, I get my wand, and strangely my, "Alder wood with a Phoenix Feather core, 12 1/4 inches. Alder is an unyielding wood, yet I have discovered that its ideal owner is not stubborn or obstinate, but often helpful, considerate and most likeable. Whereas most wand woods seek similarity in the characters of those they will best serve, alder is unusual in that it seems to desire a nature that is, if not precisely opposite to its own, then certainly of a markedly different type. When an alder wand is happily placed, it becomes a magnificent, loyal helpmate. Alder is also excellent for protection against outside forces, and, when combined with phoenix feather, is a suitable match for a wizard who will "make their mark on this world.'" Mr. Ollivander says, and I look up at him in shock. Hermione hadn't gotten such a lengthy explanation of her wand.

Mr. Ollivander fixes me with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Miss (L/n). Every single wand. It so happens that that phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave two other feathers - just two. It is curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother - why, one of it's brothers gave you that scar."

I swallow thickly.

"Your other wand's brother, however, I sold just a mere thirty minutes ago," Ollivander continues, "to a young Harry Potter. Curious how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember . . . I think that we must expect great things from you, Miss (L/n) . . . After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible yes, but great."

Hermione and I return home a few hours later with Professor McGonagall, me clutching a woven basket that housed my new black and white cat Marvel inside.

3rd Person POV

Before they enter the house McGonagall stops (Y/n) before she can enter.

(Y/n) turns to looks quizzically at the professor.

"Good luck," the Professor says simply, then holds out to train tickets. "These are you and your sister's ticket's for Hogwarts." (Y/n) nods, taking the tickets. "I'll see you on September 1st," McGonagall says. Then the Professor turns around and walks away.

Word Count: 4,100 words

So yeah, here's Chapter 2.

I wonder if any of you know who (Y/n)'s dad is yet. I tried dropping some hints at the very beginning.

So yeah

I'll see y'all soon!

Love y'all!

              Kaitlynn 😍❤️

[yuzuriha-sayori]

Do I Make You Horny Baby?

A Hawks x Reader NSFW 

This (little) piece started off in our Hawks’ NSFW group chat where Hawks quotes Austin Powers 🥴

Word Count: 4390

Thank you to these sweet Birdies for pushing me into finishing this because...it’s been months since I started it. I literally wouldn’t have finished without you guys haha. @bluecookies02 @vixenpen @heyitswhiplash @musicisme196 @hawkschickenwings @the-magician-in-alice @himbokutokou @ryuukotakami @kusuouchiha if I’ve forgotten someone or someone wants to be removed from tags, please let me know~!

~*~*~*~*~*

Today was supposed to be like any normal day; just a short shopping trip to your local market to gather a few missing ingredients for dinner, and pick up a coffee on the way back. You hadn't expected it to come down after walking a few blocks back home. The once bright and crisp air outside quickly turned windy and wet. 

"Damn this rain." You muttered to yourself, clutching your paper bag of groceries and coffee to your chest as you jogged briskly back to your apartment. If you had enough common sense to check the weather forecast, you would have brought an umbrella. But with how hectic life had been lately, small things like these often slipped your mind, only becoming an issue when life decided to take a turn against you. 

Just as you made it to the last corner you had to take, the bottom of your now soggy bag gave way, spilling the contents of what was supposed to be for dinner. Your heart sunk immediately as you stood there with not enough time to react, looking equivalent to a dog caught in the rain. Though before your groceries could hit the sidewalk, a swarm of red overtakes your vision. 

"You should be more careful with your things kid." A rather honey deep voice caught your attention. Looking up, you locked eyes with the most handsome young man you'd probably ever seen in your young adult life. Crimson feathers that seemed to float in the air held the few contents of what was supposed to be for dinner. 

It felt like time had stopped as you stared into his sharp golden eyes, your lips parting in a forgotten "Oh". Out of all the people to see you as disheveled as you were today, the No. 2 Pro Hero, was the last one you expected. The young man's usually wind whipped hair was plastered all around his face, his large crimson wings doing very little to stop the heavy rain beating down on the two of you. 

"S-S-Sorry!" You managed to get out, breaking eye contact. Almost instantly you were able to gain your thoughts back as your brain scrambled to figure out what you were going to do with your items. Your flimsy paper bag was out of commission. 

The hero gave a small laugh, seeming to not mind the pouring rain, "It's alright. Just make sure you pay more attention to the weather before coming out. It's that time of year after all." You could only nod at the ground sheepishly, too embarrassed to make eye contact. 

"Were you headed home? I can help you carry these." The sudden proposal made your head shoot up almost immediately. Despite your hammering heart, you met his gaze and could see genuine sincerity. 

"It's not too much trouble? I couldn't possibly trouble someone that's usually so busy." You say, waving your free hand frantically. The other hand still clutched the coffee you were trying to save. You were very aware of how Hero work wasn't easy, nor did it ever stop. 

As if madam bad luck was trying to put in some overtime today, a large truck came speeding past, splashing murky ground water at you. Hawks, with his inhuman reactive agility, didn't hesitate to shield you from the splash while simultaneously pulling you into him. Your coffee slipped out of your hand and fell to the ground. 

"You have quite the bad luck, little bird." The rush of adrenaline that surged through your body was almost incomprehensible and it took a minute to register what had just happened. Too many seconds had gone by and he was still holding you close to his chest. As he spoke, you could hear how his chest vibrated low with each word. 

Quickly pulling yourself away, you nodded and laughed awkwardly while keeping your gaze to the ground, "It seems so." Your cheeks burned but you brushed it off as the result of how warm his body felt against your face. Sighing with defeat, you grabbed your now wasted coffee cup and tossed it into the trash can that was nearby. 

"Well, I don't think we could get any more soaked out here. Where to?" The blond said enthusiastically. You glanced up at him to see that despite the confident smile he had plastered on his face, he had to be absolutely miserable. He was drenched head to toe in muddy water and his large jacket sagged and clung to his frame. You imagined it was horribly heavy after absorbing so much water. His wings, a usual bright red, were now dark and slightly leaden in appearance. 

"Right!" You grabbed his hand and hurriedly tugged him around the corner, walking in the direction of your apartment. "I'm so sorry! We'll get you dried off at my place. It's just a bit farther down this street." 

"No need, I can dry off once I'm back to my agency." He quickly dismissed, his tone lighthearted. "By the way, I never asked for your name." 

"A-Ah, [l/n], [l/n] [f/n]..." You couldn't help the burn in your cheeks at his inquiry as you two walked up the stairs to your apartment door, stopping right outside it while you dug for your keys in your pockets. 

He repeated your name slowly and then chuckled, "It has a lovely ring to it." 

"Thank you!" You exclaimed rather loudly in surprise. "B-But uhm also, well, your agency is across town. You'll get sick staying in those clothes. I insist, please come in and dry off." 

Hawks, being the man that he was, couldn't hold in his little quip, "Trying to get me out of my clothes already?" Your keys, that you had just managed to pull out, fumbled right out of your hands and hit the ground. Whipping around in shock, you were met with a playfully disappointed look as he continued, "We just met, you haven't even taken me out to dinner first." 

"I-I-I didn't mean anything inappropriate I swear, I h-have honest intentions!" Your face flushed with embarrassment as you completely missed his teasing. 

"Pfft." The hearty laugh that left the crimson winged hero echoed as he picked your keys up and handed them to you. "I'm only joking kid, gotta stay positive on bad days." He flashed you a big smile. You didn't understand how despite looking like a complete mess, he could still smile in such a way. It made your heart skip as you turned away, finding the right key and unlocking your door. 

"You nearly made my heart explode, please don't tease me like that." Walking into the mud room, you slipped off your shoes and jacket, both soaked down to the fibers and slipped into your house slippers. Sighing in defeat, you turn to the young blond that followed you in. His feathers still held on to the few items you had purchased earlier. "Here, give me your jacket. I'll put it in the wash." 

"You don't have to do that." The hero said, waving his large gloved hands up simultaneously. Your lips turned into a pout. Quickly grabbing each item from his feathers, you darted off to your kitchen. You left him standing confused at the entrance as he watched you dart from one room to another. It was but a few moments later that you returned with a towel and house slippers. "Oh, thank you." 

"Now give me your jacket." Your hand was extended to him while doing the grab motion and your face said you weren't taking no for an answer. 

Hawks could only sigh and shake his head in defeat, a small smirk on his lips. "Fine fine, you win little bird." Shrugging out of his jacket, he looked you over. You were still dripping water all over the dark wooden floor. You quickly caught his concerned expression and waved him off. 

"This can be mopped up. We don't want you catching a cold. Worry about yourself okay?" You gave him a big smile and traded the towel and slippers for his jacket. It was indeed very heavy. "I'll toss this is the wash for you, if that's okay? It won't take long. In the meantime, you can use my shower. If you don't warm yourself up, you'll surely get sick." 

His mouth opened to protest against the shower but decided on focusing more on you, "Worry about myself? Big words for someone who isn't worried about their own self." 

You blink, confused at his words. "What do you mean? I'll shower after you of course. You're covered in dirty water." Turning to take his jacket to where the washer was, you froze when you felt his breath against your neck. 

"You should be more worried about inviting someone you just met into your home." His husky words spread like warm chocolate across the skin of your neck and you jump a few inches forward before almost snapping your head around with how fast it spun around. 

Hawks was bent over to your height as he slipped off one boot with one hand, the other holding onto the frame of the wall. You realized he'd sounded so close with how low he was bent over. A closer inspection and you noticed just how well toned he was, his compression shirt clung tightly to his lean muscles. 

Your mind raced with a plethora of absolutely perverse thoughts. You were still a young adult after all. Oh how those muscles would feel under your fingers. The image of them tightening, his breath getting caught in his throat, as you trailed feather light touches down to his-- 

"Yo." 

His voice suddenly broke you from your hungry stare, jumping out of your skin in reaction. Hawks' fierce golden eyes stared into yours, a thick eyebrow cocked up in a questioning manner. His lips were pressed in a straight line but you swore the corners twitched upwards. Heat began creeping up your neck at an alarming rate and you whipped back around. 

"Bathroom is on the right. Leave the wet ones in the basket!" You said in a hurry, scurrying off to the laundry room. Any second longer and he'd have seen just how red your face turned, the heat reaching all the way up to your ears. You dropped the jacket into the washer and leaned over it, holding onto both sides as you took deep breaths for what felt like forever. The sound of the shower turning on brought you back to reality. 

After calming yourself, you made your way to the bedroom, rifling through all your clothes to find something he might fit. 'He probably gets that a lot. He is an attractive man.' You told yourself. Finally you found a pair of decent sweats you rarely ever wore that he could possibly fit into, and a large plain black tee. "These should do~." 

Nervously making your way to the bathroom, you saw he had indeed left his wet clothes in one of the baskets by the door. Swapping the wet ones for the clean pair of clothes, you also pulled down another fresh towel from the linens closet nearby and placed it in another basket for him. 

'Calm down, it's no big deal.' Oh but it was though. The No. 2 hero was currently using your shower, and more than likely your body wash, to clean himself. 'Holy fuck. My heart, please...' There was nothing more embarrassing than getting caught staring at someone with dirty intentions. 

It took much willpower to not want to take a peek at what kind of underwear the pro hero wore. You mentally screamed at yourself as you dumped the contents into the washer and started it, setting the basket down next to it. 'Dear lord please forgive me.' You sighed, dragging your hand down your face, 'I am an unholy human being.' 

"Ah shit!" A sudden realization hit that dinner wasn't prepped. You quickly darted to your kitchen. The items you grabbed, previously forgotten on your counter, were for your crockpot. Something easy to forget since you were always so busy. As you began preparing everything for dinner and tossing them in the pot, you started to hear something coming from the bathroom. 

It took a second to register, occasionally mistaking what you heard, but eventually you tuned in and were pretty sure you weren't mistaken. The pro hero was singing in the shower. It was soft whistles that almost sounded like chirping. "Pfft," you couldn't help let the small laugh escape, thinking it was absolutely adorable. 

Food prepped and crock pot set on high for 3 hours, you got to work mopping up your floors. It didn't take long considering there wasn't much floor space to worry about. Hawks continued to sing throughout your quick work and only stopped shortly before the shower cut off. You were already finished and had water on the stove when you could hear him approaching. 

"Something smells good." You could hear his quickly becoming addictive voice roll over you as he walked into the shared kitchen/living room arrangement, hips resting against the small wooden table you had. You turned, tea cup in hand when you caught the sight before your eyes.

His beautiful golden hair was still damp, tufts of it fell over his forehead and partially his eyes as he rubbed the back of his head with the towel around his neck. He looked otherworldly with how beautiful he was. Your eyes darted their way down his frame to see how your clothes fit on him. The black tee fit him fine but your eyes stopped abruptly at the sweats. You almost dropped your jaw. They were just a tad bit too small. Hugging his hips fine but didn't leave too much room for...for what he carried between his legs. 

"Ah, you're still wet. You didn't at least dry off?" You couldn't even hear him speaking to you as your head was filled with the dial up sound. You even missed his smirk and light exhale as he stepped towards you and wrapped the towel he had used to dry his hair around your shoulders.  

His actions were quick to snap you out of the stupor you were in and the tea cup slipped from your fingers. "You really have a knack for dropping stuff don't you?" In almost an instant, a red feather grabbed the almost shattered cup and dropped it into your hand.

"T-T-Tea?" Was all you were able to get out as you looked at the man sheepishly. He returned your bewildered expression with a smirk, pointing to the shower. 

"I think you should go warm yourself up before you get sick, kid. I should be taking my leave soon." Just as he finished speaking, a ding came from the laundry room. 

"Oh that's your clothes! They should be done washing. I'll move them over. Tea while you wait?" You returned his smile sheepishly. 

Hawks could only sigh with a smile and fold his arms across his chest, "Alright, but you should shower first. I’ll wait here." Scooting the wooden chair out from under the table, he plopped himself down and got comfortable. “I hope this tea is good, and if I have time, maybe I can get to try whatever you’re cooking? It smells like chicken.”

You nodded to him and spoke rather quickly, “Yes it is chicken! I will be right back!,” and dashed off to switch the hero’s clothes over. He eyed you as you again darted across your apartment just a minute later to where he had come from, assuming that that was the direction of where your room was as well. Not that he was paying attention or committing it to memory or anything.

You had planned to take a quick shower but your embarrassment kept you in there longer than you expected. There was something embarrassing about the fact you were naked under the same room with Hawks. As always, your brain started rapid firing off inappropriate thoughts, imagining the pro hero walking in on you. Maybe liking what he was seeing and offering to wash you himself. Washing you with himself, rubbing his thick veiny-- ‘Seriously? A hentai trope? I have got to get it together.” You told yourself while finishing up hurriedly and ignoring the arousal you were feeling in between your legs. If you stayed in there any longer under the heat, you were sure to faint. The last thing you needed was Hawks rescuing you from falling only to find you stark naked. Goddammit it here we go again.

Doing your best not to take up too much of his time, you were soon to join him, wearing sweats much like his, but these fit your frame. You made a mental note to apologise for assuming the ones you found would have fit him. ‘I don’t think he noticed now did he?’

“I’m sorry if I took so long,” You told him, turning the eye on for the pot of water you had previously placed there. You reached up to grab another tea cup to join the one you had earlier and glanced over at the cooker. The food was to be done soon. You were quite surprised how almost 3 hours had already gone by.

“You’re fine, kid. Say, what are you cooking? Besides it being, you know, chicken. Is that garlic?” 

You turned to nod at him with a small smile. “Honey garlic chicken. I’m preparing it with rice if that’s fine with you?”

“Ha, you’re cleaning my clothes, you offered your shower to me, and you’re letting me join you for dinner. I’ll take whatever you give me sweetheart.” There was something about the way he said the last sentence that made it stick in the air thicker than the honey in your chicken. His eyes never broke from yours.

You were the one to break the gaze, nervousness taking over. “Almost forgot the rice haha oops!” You stuttered, clambering around getting your rice washed and into the rice cooker. The loud whistle of your water boiling in the pot nearly made you faint and you rushed to grab it off the stove, though Hawks beat you to it. He opted to get up and do it himself rather than using his feathers; his feathers and heat didn’t quite get along. 

“O-Oh thank you!” You stammer, taking note of how close he was to you. His gaze on you was like the warm air of summer, hot and clingy. The lack of control over your own eyes caused you to catch sight of his quite prominent dick print in the sweats he wore. Your breath caught and you whipped back around to finish pouring your cups of tea. You could feel heat pooling between your legs and you couldn’t help but press them together. The image of just how thick he was continued to burn in your head. 

Just as you sat the steaming pot of water back onto the stove, he moved in even closer. Every hair on your body stood up with the goosebumps forming. The air, swirling with so much sexual tension, could cut through anything faster than his feathers. Hawks was by no means a fool, and could tell how easily such small actions from him made your body quiver.

“Do I excite you?” You jumped and tried to turn around. You hadn’t known how close he was to you which caused your ass to graze against his semi hard cock. A whisper of a moan escaped his lips, “Easy there baby bird, didn’t I say dinner came first?” 

With half your body turned to him, the feeling of time stopping between the two of you for the second time today arose. Your heart thrummed in your ears as you locked eyes with the man that seemed to be sculpted right from God’s hands. 

“See, when I ask you a question, I expect an answer.” You could only nod, the function of your lungs seeming to fail at that moment. “Now I’ll ask again,” He leaned down, lips just barely ghosting over your own before he spoke again, so dangerously low that it shot electricity right between your legs, “Do I make you horny, baby?”

Before the struggling ‘Yes’ was able to escape your lips, the sound of not only the cooker, but the dryer went off. You wanted to groan in frustration but Hawks caught on quite too fast and put his arms on either side of you, flat on the counter top. His heated gaze meant he wasn’t leaving without an answer. 

“Y-Yes.” You whispered to him. The unholy growl that left him made you shake with arousal before his lips crashed against yours. One of his hands slipped down to roughly grab your waist and press you into him as he rocked his hips forwards. “F-Fuck.” You managed to choke out. 

Slipping his hand into your pants, his skilled hands and long fingers made work of you like you were a violin. The whines and moans escaping you only spurred him on as he grinded himself against you and made you melt into him. “You are quite easy to read, you know that?”

You shook your head frantically, rocking into his hand as he wound that rubber band in your gut so tight. You wanted to tell him dinner was ready, that you two should eat but you dared not to have him stop what he was doing. His now completely erect cock sprung free as he slipped his pants down. “Do you want this?” He groaned against your neck, “Do you want me to put it inside? Stretch that tight little hole of yours?”

“Yes! Please oh yes! I want it!” You cried out, wanting nothing more than him to fill you up with that deliciously thick cock you’d been eyeing all evening. He was more than willing to oblige as he pressed down on your back with his free hand so your chest rested on the counter. You reached down to slide and shake your pants down and stepped out of them. A knee came between your legs to nudge them apart and you soon felt something prod against your entrance. It felt hot and slick as he rubbed the tip of his member against you. “Take a deep breath,” was all he said before he spread your hole wide open with his cock, sliding all in with one deep thrust.

The air was forcefully knocked out of you as you felt your belly swell. He filled you up so full you almost felt like you’d break. It hurt, it most definitely hurt, but it didn’t stop the whorish wails that escaped you as he began pounding into you with a hunger. “Jesus fuck you’re so tight, [y/n]. God you’re gonna make it hard to pull out. You’re just-- FUCK you’re just sucking me right in.”

His words made you clench around him more. He growled so deep and snapped his hips into you faster, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” One hand was between your legs, working you up to him and the other gripped your hip in a death clutch. His skillful hands and the way he stretched you out and pounded you so deep had you rushing towards your release.  

“Oh God please! Please! Please!” You scream in pleasure, seeing nothing but stars. He fucked you relentlessly and you were sure he was going to break you.

“Please what?” 

“Please cum inside me. I’m! O-Oh! I’m begging you please!” Drool ran down your chin as your legs gave out, no longer able to support themselves and the pounding you were taking. Just as he felt your legs start to give out, both his hands clutched your hips to hold you up. It was easy for him to control where he was able to thrust into you as he aggressively slammed into your sweet spot.

“Ooooohhh fuck. Fuck yes!” He hissed, his strokes becoming arrythmic. “That’s it sweetheart, give yourself to me. Give your everything to me!” He groaned, biting into your shoulder. Almost too soon were you falling apart, screaming out as you met your release all over him and the floor. You cried out in more of a sob as you shook against him, body tensing up and shaking in waves. A few more snaps of his hips and he was joining you, burying himself deep inside as spurt after spurt of warm viscous sperm filled you. He held you close as he shook, one arm under your stomach to support your weight and the other lay flat against the countertop as he hunched over you. 

“Fuck baby bird you’re really milking everything out of me,” he rasped as the muscles of your walls squeezed him over and over. Once you were finally done spasming, he slowly slid out of you. Hot sticky seed followed seconds after to join your fluids, spilling out onto the floor with a dirty sounding splatter.

Just moments after hearing the sound did you finally speak. “I just mooooopped.” You manage to whine out, still being supported by Hawk’s arm. He chuckled and tried to let you go but your legs quickly buckled out from under you. Catching you, he swiftly picked you up into his arms and held you.

“I’ll take care of that. First off, I think we need another bath.” He smiled down and your embarrassed expression, fully grasping the fact you two just fucked like wild animals in the kitchen.

“B-But the food.” You stammer out.

He laughed that hearty deep honeyed laugh that made warmth spread over you, “I did say dinner first, but...I’ll let it slide this time. May I kiss you? I don’t know, you just look so kissable right now.”

A smirk spread across your lips, “Now you’re being polite hm?” Despite your teasing you nod and meet his lips as he walks with you in his arms to the shower. 

“Let’s see if we can fulfil a hentai trope next huh?” The winged hero exclaims excitedly, making you stare at him shell shocked. You could only laugh weakly, knowing you were probably in for a long evening. Thank goodness for crock pots, or your dinner would have surely been burnt.

[whatdyk]

Saviour (Pero Tovar x Fem!Reader) | Modern AU.

Part Three.

Warnings: None that I can think of? 

Word Count: 2.9k.

Chapter Three: 

Deep brown eyes and a strong, rugged voice. Accent thick with a low, serious tone. Brown hair with soft curls; an almost signature frown. The images that lace through your mind keep you accompanied almost every day. Whether you're working, sleeping, or cooking, it doesn't seem to matter. They're always there, curving between your conscious and subconscious mind.

It was even becoming frustrating for you now, how your mind just couldn't seem to escape the thought of Pero. You've even caught yourself wondering whether he feels the same way about you, but you know that that could never be true. Besides, that would be weird, he doesn't even know you.

So instead, you go about your days as if nothing's bothering you. Nothing at all.

With a yawn, you eventually sit up in bed and reach for your phone. It's finally the weekend, and so you decided to indulge yourself in a rare lie-in. Though, to your dismay, your new idea of a relaxing, lazy morning, seems to be waking up at 8 am. You have a few emails and messages from work waiting for you, but thankfully you're able to push them to the back of your mind until Monday. You place your phone back down and slump into the covers, closing your eyes for just five more minutes.

Roughly one hour later, you wake again feeling refreshed and well-rested. And, as soon as you're up and about, the morning before you goes quickly. You're able to eat, shower and dress in just 90 minutes, deciding to wear one of your favorite outfits. Covering yourself in soft knits and an over-sized coat, you're ready to battle against the chill of the oncoming winter. The cuts and scrapes on your face have also fully healed now, leaving you to feel confident in your own reflection once again.

Yesterday, you'd decided that you would go to the park for a walk, ensuring that you're able to make the most of the sunshine and mild weather before the evenings start to get cold and dark. You might even treat yourself to hot drink or a new book, though you'd definitely be sure to stop by the florists. It's a strange feeling to be so excited for such a seemingly mundane day, but you can't help the smile that's beginning to spread across your face.

Grabbing your gloves and bag, you take one final look around your apartment. For the first time in a long time, you're desperate to get out and explore.

Your quick trip had been going well so far, the weather may have been chillier that you had anticipated, but the final rays of the sun shone brightly throughout the city. So far, you'd been able to stop by your local book shop and purchase a few new novels, you'd even spotted a few classics to add to your collection. Luckily, you also know the owner of the store quite well, and she was more than happy to let you peruse the items not yet for sale.

After ringing up your purchases, you only have one more task to complete for the day, flowers. You'd only just thrown out the vase from before, and your apartment was desperate for some colour. You weren't really able to customize the walls of your rented home, so you attempted to brighten up the place in any other way you could imagine.

Deciding to cut across the park, you make your way to your favourite place-

"Oof!" You gasp out as something solid hits your shoulder, knocking you slightly off-balance.

Too lost in your own thoughts, you hadn't even noticed the man making his way towards you until it was too late.

"Shit," You mumble out, reaching down for the bag you'd just dropped, "I'm so sorry"

You hear a muted grumble in response, but it's not until you're stretching back up again that you realize just who you've bumped into. Your heart nearly falls through your stomach as your eyes meet, "...You" you whisper to yourself, meeting the frown that was becoming increasingly familiar.

"You should be more careful" he mutters under his breath, remembering your name and causing your pulse to sky-rocket. You can feel the heat begin to rise in your cheeks as you clear your throat, readjusting your bag on your shoulder. Has he always been this tall?

"I'm really sorry about that," You begin once you realise that you've been staring for way too long, "Honestly, my mind was somewhere else"

To nobodies surprise, the man just grunts in response. Yet, you're pleased to see the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Pero, right?" You question, not wanting to sound too eager as if his name hasn't been on the tip of your tongue since the moment he gave it to you.

"Sí" He responds, "I'm impressed that you remember."

"Of course!" You speak out a little too loud for your liking, "I still owe you for, well...everything" you mumble, moving your eyes to ground beneath you.

It's still a difficult memory for you to relive, but now, and especially in front of him, you can't help but think of when he turned down your first offer of re-paying him. You can feel the tips of your ears begin burn as you recall that moment, the look of pity in his brown eyes as he left you standing in the doorway to your apartment-

"I'm free now?" Pero's gruff voice knocks you out of your thoughts, "If you are too, that is"

Wait, what?

You must have looked up at him with a face of pure confusion as a small smile etches across his features, "If your offer still stands, I'd like to grab some lunch with you" he elaborates.

Your eyes go wide, but you can't help it as a broad smile breaks out, "Of course" you rush out, "I know the perfect place."

Unsurprisingly, the walk between you is quiet. It's not necessarily an uncomfortable silence, but there's certainly an air of tension between the two of you, and you can't seem to put your finger on why. Though thankfully, the place you had in mind isn't too far away.

"It's an Italian, I hope that's alright?" You say, struggling to walk in time with his long strides. He doesn't answer you verbally, but he nods his head as he places his hands into his jacket pockets.

Eventually entering the venue, you're instantly hit with the soothing warmth of the inside. There's a burning fire in the corner that's calling your name, and thankfully, you notice that the place quieter than usual. It may not be the fanciest restaurant in town, but it's rustic features and muted color palate hold a special place in your heart. Plus, their baked gnocchi is to die for.

Making your way to grab a table, you watch as Pero takes off his coat and rests it on the back of his chair. Taking the seat opposite you, he's quick to peruse the menu and you smile to yourself as his eyes widen. He notices that you haven't looked yourself but he chooses not to say anything, instead, allowing you to order and pick out some drinks for the both of them.

"You come here often, then?" He eventually asks, moving to sit back in the padded leather chair.

You smile and nod your head, relieved that you don't have to attempt to break the ice first, "It's my favourite," you explain, "I live nearby and it's the first place I came to when I moved, I'm a sucker for good pasta and wine"

He exhaled through his nose at that, and you guess that that's his version of a laugh. You can't help but smile, once again admiring his dark features.

"So, Pero" you start, "what is it that you do?"

At this question, you can see clearly as he begins to inch out of his shell. He gestures with his hands as he tells you about his role, that he's a security guard as the Museum of Natural History and is currently saving up money to start his own company. His expression seems to always be guarded, but you're careful to notice as snippets of excitement or happiness slip through his facade. You like it when he smiles you decide, watching the usual lines between his furrowed brows dissipate.  

"I've got to ask though," you begin as he takes a bite of his food, "what type of security guard carries a card?"

You think back to the intricate card he gave to you when you first met, his name and number spelled out in delicate printed writing. A stark contrast to the man who's sat in front of you now.

"I'm...well, I'm trying to get my name out there" he answers, "though, I don't usually give them to strangers, I'm hoping to start building my own clientele"

"I'll be sure to hang on to it then" you smile, "I seem to be getting myself into an awful lot of trouble recently." Your laugh is dry, but thankfully the raised eye-brow he offers you in response is enough to make you smile again.

As the afternoon wears on, you probe him with more questions and it appears that he's happy to answer them. From your initial meeting, you're surprised at how well the conversation flows now, it's almost as if you've known eachother for years, or if you're already good friends.

Eventually, the topic of conversation turns to you; you tell him all about your job and life in the city. It isn't a particularly long conversation considering it's just you living here, but you can't help but notice as he hangs on to your each and every word. The look burning behind his chocolate-colored eyes is almost intense as he listens, an emotion flitting behind his pupils that you can't quite decipher.

You take a small pause to sip at your drink as the conversation eventually comes to a lull, and you can't help but gasp when you see how dark it is outside. How long have you been here for?

"I can see why you like it here so much" He eventually says, picking up his own glass and returning your attention to him, "I've...I've had a nice evening."

"I told you, the best pasta in the city." You laugh.

"A very strong argument," he pauses to consider, "but, I can assure I know where you can get the best burger."

"Well then, you may just have to show me some time" you respond without thinking. Though with that, you can feel the tips of your ears begin warm, it's been far too long since you last attempted to flirt.

"I know this may sound a little strange," he says, causing your heart to drop. Not the answer that you were looking for.

"But, I can't help but feel like, I've met you before?" He questions, the hardened lines between his brows coming back. So, not a rejection?

You can't help but look at him as you wonder how to respond, considering his words carefully. But then, you begin to think about how this particular man has been the sole subject of your thoughts recently, the echo of his voice never far from your mind. Does this mean that he has felt the same about you?

"I don't think we've met before," you answer, choosing your words carefully, "but, sometimes...you have felt, familiar?" you finish your sentence with a small laugh, hoping to come off as cute rather than stalker-ish.

He hums in response when you finish, but the intensity in his eyes never leaves as your waiter comes provide the bill and clear the table. As you sit back, you're almost glad for the buffer between you as you take a quick glance at him, his hands forming into fists as he waits.

"Are you alright?" You decide to ask as you grab your bag, pulling out your purse to pay.

After a second, he seems to snap out of his reverie, shaking his head and tapping the pockets of his jeans for his wallet.

"Yes, yes...of course" he mutters out, his usual stoic disposition quickly returning, "please, let me"

You hold your hand out against him, stopping him from reaching for any cash and you place down your own notes, "Like I said, this is a small thank you," you say softly, "I'm just sorry that there isn't more that I can do."

He nods his head and concedes, but he's quick to quell your anxieties, "this is more than enough." a pause, "I never actually expected to see you again"

You hum to yourself this time, "me neither" you respond almost thoughfully, "but, I'm glad that you did."

At your words, you swear that you can see the hint of a blush travelling up his neck. But, he's quick to shake it off, instead offering you just a small smile and a nod as you both begin to stand. Gathering your things and putting your coat on, you take a moment to look outside of the window next to you. It's only early in the evening, but the darkness is fast approaching as you plan out the quickest route home in your head.

"I think I can remember the way back to your apartment" Pero's voice disrupts your spiralling thoughts and you turn to face him, "I'd prefer to walk you home if that's alright."

For once, without any argument you nod your head and begin to make your way to the exit, Pero following behind closely. As you leave, you can't help but wonder whether he saw you looking out of the window, guessing your own anxieties before you even had the chance to express them yourself. But either way, you're grateful to have him so close by.  

Once again, the walk between you is quiet. Yet this time, you notice that the silence is almost comforting as you make your way back home. You're even left surprised when he indulges you, waiting patiently as you buy fresh sunflowers on your way back. Though, you're left almost completely speechless as he takes the bunch from your hands, carrying them for the rest of the way as soon as you hand over the money to the florist.

You can't help the smile spreading across your face as you look at him, surrounded by yellow as you take out your keys to unlock the door to your apartment.

"Thanks for carrying those, by the way" you say, walking in and turning on the light, "you didn't have to"

He nods but follows you in silently, laying the bunch down carefully on the kitchen counter. You watch as he begins to move towards the door again, but you're quick to stop him for just a moment.

"Wait!" You say as you turn towards your bedroom,  "You can finally have your jacket back!"

You root around your room and return to him just moments later, his jacket in your hand whilst he waits in the frame of your door.

"Gracias," he responds quietly, taking the thick material from your hands, "I didn't think I'd ever see this again either."

You let out a small laugh and look up at him, allowing yourself to get lost in his eyes once more, "Thank you for humoring me today, I'm sure you had a different idea of how you wanted to spend your afternoon and evening"

The lines on he forehead shrink as he lets out a lazy smile, "You'd be surprised" he motions with a raised eyebrow, "the food was worth it though"

"I told you" you quickly retort, your own brow raised in retaliation, "and, I would like to taste the best burger in the city too, if you're still up for showing me" You can feel the heat in your cheeks as you speak, but fuck it. Time to shoot your shot.

"I'd like that." He eventually breathes out, taking a step back to exit your home, "You have my number, yes?"

You nod enthusiatically, but you're quick to stop him from moving any further by wrapping your arms around his torso.

"Thank you, again" You mumble out against his chest, your eyes closed as you breathe in his scent.

After a moment, you feel his arms begin to wrap around you too, his chin moving down to rest on your head. Minutes seem to pass as you enjoy the warmth of his embrace. However, you are surprised that he doesn't say anything more as your touch continues to linger. You'd thanked him enough today, you thought to yourself. Perhaps he's just finally tired of hearing it? So, after a few more seconds of selfish self-indulgence, you decide to unwravel yourself from around him before he becomes uncomfortable.

With a large sigh, you release your arms and take a step back. Smiling as you start to look back up to him.

Except, this time when you look up to him...you understand exactly why he hadn't said a word.

"Who the hell are you?!"

Tag List:

@computeringturtle @lackofhonor​

[itsallabigmess]

Crescente | Part Five

A/N: I’m a bit late on my schedule but here it is.  Now, I told some of you there would be a certain scene on this part but I decided to move it to the next one. Part Six will be the last part of this series but I’m pretty sure I’m gonna add an epilogue to the story. Once again, thank you all for commenting on the previous parts. I can’t wait to read what you have to say about this one.

A.

PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

“Y/N, please. Come back to bed.”

You woke up with the sound of angry waves reaching the shore. Kneeling over the small couch, you watch your plans to spend the day at the beach being spoiled by the bad weather.

“Maybe it will get better later,” you look over your shoulder, at Jinyoung. His eyes barely open as he lifts half of his body from the bed with a growl, as if it is the hardest thing to do. “Just come back to bed.”

But you are not sleepy anymore. Tired? Maybe, a little bit. Especially your legs. But unlike Jinyoung, you have no wish to spend the morning or the entire day in bed.

And then, you remember.

You rush downstairs, grabbing the travel guide from the telephone table. The package offered full access to the Resort’s Spa. How could you not think of it instantly? You ask Jinyoung, going back to the room if he wants to join you. He answers by pulling the comforter over his head and fake snoring.

You spend the next three hours having your head massaged and hair washed, and then massaged again. Your entire body gets scrubbed and moisturized. You remember yourself to not vocalize anything that might sound weird, but you are so relaxed, it gets hard to form any coherent thought. Or stay awake.

When you finally open your eyes, they feel watery and heavy. “I fell asleep, haven’t I?”

“Yes,” the therapist smiles down at you, massaging your hands. “That’s good. It means I’m doing my job right.”

She gives you a final neck and shoulder massage before guiding you to another room where you’ll get your hair blow-dried. When it’s all done, you are invited to stay as long as you want in the relaxation area of the spa. This is great since you feel too light to do anything other than sink on the plush couch with a cup of warm tea.

---

The villa is dead silent when you come back. Jinyoung is still lost in deep sleep, somehow. You don’t wake him. His stomach will do it for you very soon, you are certain. At some point, while you were at the spa, the rain had stopped. Grey clouds still cover the sky, but you can see the sun trying to make its way through it. You go inside to change into one of your bathing suits and loose shorts and go for a stroll by the shore.

You walk long enough to reach the next villa, and the next one after that before turning around. You see a family playing near the water, where is shallow and the kids can run freely. You move closer to where the small waves cover your calves. The water is far from the coldness you were expecting, and you are taking your time enjoying it.

The back pocket of your shorts vibrates. Jinyoung is finally up and asking where you are? Just in time, you think. Your stomach is starting to growl.

[13:22/You] Almost there. At the beach. Go outside and look to your right.

From the distance, you can see his form standing in the sand. The closer you get, you notice Jinyoung had already changed to his vacation look: knee-length shorts and a plain t-shirt. This one is black. His hair is not completely brushed, eyes are puffy.

“How late did you go to sleep last night?”

“Not that late,” Jinyoung grumbles, pressing his palms over his eyes. “I haven’t overslept like that since I was a freshman. Effects of jet lag I guess.”

“Good thing we’re on a vacation. You can sleep as much as you want.”

“Says the person who seems to hate the idea of catching on sleep.”

You shrug, spinning in place. “I can sleep once we get back home. Who knows when I will have the chance to be in a place like this again? Can you even remember the last time you went on a trip?”

“Didn’t you go to Europe last year?” Jinyoung raises a brow, his hands hidden inside the pockets on his shorts.

“Paris, for work,” you sigh heavily. “Couldn’t even see the Eiffel Tower so what’s the point.”

Jinyoung presses his lips in an awkward thin smile and nods to where you are standing. “Isn’t the water cold?”

“Not in the slightest,” you say, and to prove your point you kick it in his direction, a trickster grin on your face.

“Really?” Jinyoung steps back. He looks unamused and unimpressed, just like he did on the day you visited one of the islands nearby. You don’t even try again. Your stomach is rumbling, and you need to fill it with food. But when you pass by him, Jinyoung grabs you from behind, lifting you by the waist. “You are not gonna get away from it that easily.”

He drags you towards the ocean and you can’t stop squirming, trying to get away from his grip. “No… Jinyoung… please… stop!” You try to speak in between laughs. And when you feel the water reaching your knees you scream “My phone!”

Jinyoung releases you and you run back to the villa, reaching for your back pocket. Your phone is still intact, thank God. “That was close.” You say to Jinyoung as he reaches you, shaking the device for him to see. He takes it from your hard and throws it over one of the sunbeds. You have a second to think before Jinyoung grabs you again, lifting you as if you weight nothing, dragging you back to where he intends to give you a lesson.

When did he become so strong? That is all you can think as he makes you two go underwater. You come to the surface and jump over his shoulder, but Jinyoung is way more agile than you, and, with his arms around your middle, you go under again. When you finally manage to escape, you crawl out of the water, letting your body fall in the sand.

“I got the message,” you say breathlessly to Jinyoung when he sits by your side. “No teasing.”

“If you can’t handle the outcome,” he lays on his side, head propped on his left hand, his right coming to gently wipe away a few grains of sand and sea-salt from your cheeks, your collarbones, your shoulders. There’s a fondness in his eyes when he speaks again. “I like seeing you like this.”

“Making a fool of myself?”

“No,” Jinyoung shakes his head, his eyes following the way his right-hand slides down your arm, finding a way to stop on your waist. “Happy.”

When his eyes meet yours again, you realize you are holding your breath, just like you were a minute ago underwater. It takes a few heartbeats to remember you are at no risk of drowning. Even if it feels like it. “I won’t stay happy once we get inside and I see that all the hair treatments I got at the spa went literally down the water.”

“Don’t worry, you still look great. You always do,” Jinyoung spread his hand over your middle, and on cue, your stomach growls, making you both chuckle. He in amusement, you in pure embarrassment. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

Jinyoung gets up and stretches his hand to you. “Let’s get lunch.”

---

With the weather still unstable and without many options of what to do, you and Jinyoung decide to rent a car and drive to one of the towns close to the resort. You have local food in a small restaurant and go for a walk, stopping in a few shops, buying some gifts for yourself and to bring back home.

“I thought we were not going to tell people about the trip,” Jinyoung says.

“It’s not like people won’t notice my tan,” you point out, looking down at your arms. “Besides, if I don’t take something back to my boss, she will never let me take time off work again.”

While you are busy picking different types of coffee and chocolate, Jinyoung finds out the city has an enormous botanic garden only 30 minutes away from where you are. You love walking between the picturesque buildings, the grey old structures fitting well with the cloudy day. But it is still so muggy, you both are glad to enjoy a few minutes in the air conditioning of the car.

The botanic garden is huge. The biggest in the country, you learn not long after arriving. There is no chance of you seeing at least half of it in the two hours you have left before sundown. But there is enough time to appreciate the rose and orchid gardens, refresh yourself by the natural fountains on one of the courtyards, and visit the cactus greenhouse.

“You know they have treetop activities here?” Jinyoung says grinning and you look over your shoulder at him. “We could go zip-lining again.”

“Ha! No thanks, I’m still traumatized.”

The air has shifted once you left the greenhouse. The air blows cold now and you are not surprised when, on your way back to the car, heavy rain starts falling down on you. You and Jinyoung start running, desperately looking for cover until he spots a desolate wooden gazebo.

“Another thing to check out of the list to do during the trip,” you laugh, twisting the hem of your shirt. You are completely soaked and for some reason, you don’t mind it in the slightest.

“For someone who was whining about the lack of sun in the morning, you seem abnormally amused.”

You shrug, sitting on the bench in one of the corners. “I can’t say it ruined my day.”

“The weather should clear tomorrow,” he says, brushing back the wet locks of black hair as he sits by your side. “So we can have a day at the beach.”

“We?” you raise a brow at him.

“I mean, I will be sitting under the shadows while you will be…”

“Paddle-boarding. Maybe ride a Jetski? And of course lots and lots of sunbathing,” you hug your own body and close your eyes. Maybe if you don’t mind the rain, you do wish for the sun warm. “And I want to watch the sunset again? I mean, not from a boat but, you are good at finding places for us to visit.” You push your shoulder against him lightly. “Maybe you can find another place for us?”

“Sure.”

“And watch the sunrise. God, can you imagine what must it be to watch the sunrise here?”

“You are completely smitten with this place, aren’t you?” Jinyoung chuckles.

“Aren’t you?”

He smiles at you, and you feel something aching inside your chest. “The resort offers this tour for watching the sunrise at the top of a mountain, but it involves hiking while it is still dark.”

“Hard pass,” you cringe, shaking your head. “We can just wake up one morning and watch it from the beach in front of the villa.”

Lightning clears the dark sky and the sound of thunder that follows echoes all the way from the trees to your body. You bit your lips to avoid the trembling, and press your fingers in tight fists, trying to lose the numb feeling on your fingertips.

“You are shaking,” Jinyoung notices, pulling you to his chest. His hands move up and down your back. He feels surprisingly warm against you.

“You’re a furnace,” you murmur, letting your face fall on the curve of his neck, trying to get as much heat from him and you can.

He lets an arm around you, the other hand closing around your wrists, lifting your fingers to his lips. He blows warm air against it before taking it to his neck, placing his hand over yours.

For a moment you forget that you are in a distant place that only gets darker and darker and that it might be hard to find the way back to the car. You ignore the fact that the storm is ceasing, and the wind is not hitting as cold. And you really don’t want to think about how you are practically sitting on your best friend’s lap, with him pressing you against him. You only want to feel his warm, and how comfortable it feels having his palm rubbing up and down your back. And how your hand seemed to find its way to the back of his head, and how soft it feels to slide your fingers on his hair.

And then it hits you. You become aware of it all at once and open your eyes as if you had just awakened from the most astonishingly strange dream. You lean back, as much as the arm around you allows. If you lean forward again you can kiss him, and the thought alone leaves you breathless.

But this is Jinyoung. This is your best friend. You shouldn’t be thinking of kissing him. Yet, your mind doesn’t know anything other than the shape of your lips.

Jinyoung’s eyes are dark as he stares at you. They tell you absolutely nothing. But he is not moving. His arm is still around you, and his lips part slowly. His chest raises and when you think he is about to do something, everything around you turns bright.

The light inside the gazebo flickers twice before steading. You close your eyes again and open them slightly, adjusting to the light. You feel cold again when Jinyoung releases you completely, and when you look up, you see a man standing at the entrance, holding a giant umbrella.

“You guys okay?” the security guard asks, and you notice he is holding a flashlight. The energy might just get cut off at any moment again.

“Yes, we were just waiting for the storm to stop,” Jinyoung says, waving at him, getting up.

“The gardens are closing for today,” the guard informs, sounding impatient. “I will walk you two to the entrance.”

---

It’s still cold inside the car. You are still hugging your own arms, head clouded, and fuzzy. It takes a moment to realize that Jinyoung is studying you. Worrying you were still shaking without realizing you smile weakly and say, “I’m still cold.”

Jinyoung turns the car on and then the heater, hot air being blown at you. “It won’t help much if we continue with wet clothes.” He says, looking over his shoulder before reaching for the bags on the backseat, pulling one of the shawls you’ve e bought earlier. He offers you the fabric and your eyes travel from the fabric to his expectant gaze. “What?”

“Look the other way!”

“I’ve been seeing you in bikinis for the past days, Y/N.” Jinyoung shakes his head but stretches the shawl in front of him. “It’s not like it would be any different.”

Except yes, it is different. Your swimsuits do a great job of covering your breasts completely while the bra you are wearing is mostly lace and doesn’t leave that much to the imagination.

You take off your shirt and drop it close to your feet. You wish you could dry your body but there’s not much you can do other than take the fabric and cover your upper body with it. Jinyoung has still your head turned to the other side, just in case, and you don’t miss the opportunity to tease. “You shouldn’t be paying attention to my bikinis.”

“It’s hard not to,” his voice sounds huskier than you expected – even though you are not sure what you expected - and you feel a flip on your stomach.

You make sure you are completely covered before speaking again, “I’m decent.”

Jinyoung glances at you for a moment, and then get rids of his button-up shirt. The black tank top he had underneath doesn’t even look damp and he ruffles his hair a couple of times before driving away.

“There’s another one of this,” you tell him, shaking your shawl.

“I’m good,” Jinyoung keeps his focus on the road, driving fast but not fast enough to make you worry. Your focus, on the other hand, on his naked arms and shoulders, the collarbones you can see partially. You try to think about when, in all those years, Jinyoung became so bulky, but can’t pinpoint a date. Sure, you both had changed over there years, but it’s like you only noticed Jinyoung’s physic on this trip. And since he insists on keeping his shirt on, this is the first time you are really seeing him. And you just can’t stop letting your eyes travel the length on his arm, the big hands closed around the steering wheel, then back again to his arm, chest, flat stomach.

Jinyoung glances at you before his attention is on the road again. “You are staring.”

“It’s hard not to,” you snicker. “I told you, you were gonna get a funny sunburn.”

Jinyoung looks down at his shoulder, visibly paler than the rest of his arm and shrug. “I have no intention of walking around shirtless.”

Pity, you think of saying but bite your tongue. You spend the rest of the drive back to the villa focusing on everything other than the feeling of Jinyoung’s arms around you, or how his scent put you in the best wave of dizziness. How the shawl around you doesn’t feel as warm and it felt to have bits of his skin against yours.

And you really don’t want to think about how dangerous it feels to want more of him.

[leejeongz]

Cravity confessing to their crush

😳nobody asked, nobody probably even cares, but here’s a lil something something for the most underrated boys on the entire planet hehe STAN CRAVITY😳

serim:

serim hosted the best parties, ever since your final years of school you’d always looked forward to his parties and his parties alone. you usually hated parties, all that loud music and obscene outfits, not to mention the copious amounts of alcohol involved and stupid games. but his were different, the music was always lowkey and chill, there was never too many people there, enough to stray away from a “social gathering” but not too many. drinking alcohol was always optional, there was never any pressure to drink or join in on the games. usually you and serim sat out, he hated the games too, they’re “outdated and cringe” according to him, which you had to agree with.

you had received his invite last weekend and you hoped nothing had changed. serim had helped you pick out an outfit that evening, you struggled picking between two choices so you called him and he let you know which he thought you’d look best in. upon arrival, he made sure to make a sarcastic comment about your “fantastic fashion sense” and a real compliment to follow. you walked into the party, you were always the first to arrive anywhere so the lack of people didn’t shock you. “sit down” serim said to you pointing to his new sofa, bold of him to put that out for a party, you thought. “want a drink? a mocktail perhaps?” he asked. you didn’t really have a choice, he was stood there with two strawberry coloured drinks in his hands, ready to hand one over. you asked if you should wait until everyone else arrived, but that’s when he let you know of his sneaky little plan. “it’s been so long since it was just us, i wanted to chill with you alone but i thought you would have thought it was weird if i asked you just to come over. i knew you wouldn’t think it was weird to ask you to a party, so here we are”. you didn’t noticed, during his explaining his arm had found its way over your shoulders. “i’ve been busy too, would have done this sooner, but ya know, idol and all” he joking bragged. your cheeks were going a bright shade of red, you knew it and you couldn’t hide it.

you spent most of the night in that comfortable position, your cheeks were no longer red and you started to feel at home with his arm draped over you. he’d put on a film, it was one of his favourites and had to keep checking that you were watching it. everytime he sensed you were smiling, he cheered a little on the inside, he’d made you happy and that made him happy. he got a little carried away at one point though, kissing your temple in response to your smile at the film. the smile didn’t disappear after the kiss, your eyes didn’t leave the screen, honestly you didn’t know how to act so you were trying to play it cool. meanwhile, serim was spluttering some nonsense by the side of you “i was too engrossed and it was funny and you looked cute and it was too much for me and” his verbal diarrhoea never failed to make you laugh for real. your laugh shut him up too. “what i’m trying to say is, y/n, that i really like you and i’d love for you to be mine so i can kiss you like that more”

allen:

you weren’t sick, you just weren’t feeling yourself. you had been really down recently, with no real reason to explain your lethargic behaviour, apart from homework but what’s new there. you didn’t even have the energy to text anyone, and if you did you only texted your crush, allen. he knew you weren’t doing great just from how you were texting, you never directly told him but he knew. your texts were shorter than usual, you used a lot less emojis and your replies took so much longer than normal. he could tell the effort was there thought, and he knew he was the only person you were texting. at first, he thought he’d done something wrong. he started to become dry too, but you didn’t allow for that and told him that it made you sad when he didn’t talk to you much.

a few days later, he was at your door. you heard him talking to your mother but it was too muffled to understand. you tried hard to figure out what they were saying while you sat slumped over a piece of work you’d been doing for hours. he didn’t tell you he was coming over, maybe he just needs something from your mum, you thought. nope. he knocked at your bedroom door a few seconds later and came in after you said so. your mouth naturally formed a smile, it was the first time you’d properly smiled in weeks. he was so happy to see you smiling. he mirrored the smiled back to you as you sat on the bed and patted the space next to you for him to sit. he revealed a basket from behind him and placed it on your desk, onto of your now irrelevant homework, before taking the seat next to you. his arms immediately wrapped around you and you practically fell into his chest. it was comforting, he smelled nice and his breathing steadied yours. he put his lips on your head, your hair smelt nice, he thought, taking an excessively large and LOUD inhale. you pulled away a shot him a “wtf was that” look. he giggled shyly and told you that he liked the smell of your hair. you shrugged and laughed with him.

“what’s with the basket, little red riding hood?” you asked, not even realising the colour of his hoodie fit perfectly with the name. you laughed a little to yourself, trying to concentrate on his response.

“well i thought i might cheer you up with a few of your favourite things” he said before listing numerous things in the basket. he knew you so well, you thought, you could cry right now. “it’s the least i could do for my favourite person” he whispered shyly. “i hate knowing that your sad” he brushed some hair out of your face and smiled “you’re too pretty to be sad” he paused for a while, he seemed to be debating what to say next. he thought about that one time you got stroppy when he stopped texting as much, using that as his evidence that you felt the same as him. “i really like you, and i know i can make you happy, please will you be mine?” he asked, confidently this time, with your hands now in his and a huge smile on his face.

jungmo:

it was never jungmo’s intention to have a rumour spread about him... or was it???

he realised he had a crush on you a few days after you helped him out with something. you’d been all he thought about since, you were in his dreams, and he loved it. he’s tried sleeping after he woke up just so he could carry on his dreams about you, it never worked and he was always woken up again, but it was worth the try. you felt exactly the same way, you’d liked him for longer, that’s why you helped him out in the first place and it was pretty obvious that you like him at this point, but that was the first time you’d ever felt that spark between you two, that certain electricity.

it didn’t take jungmo long to tell his friends about his crush on you. soon everyone knew, your friends, your parents, even your neighbours fish. you’d heard the rumours, of course you had they were everywhere, but you thought it was just a joke. you tried to avoid jungmo as much as possible, you thought he’d taken advantage of your feelings and so you didn’t want anything to do with him, hoping your liking for him would disappear. it didn’t.

you were heading to the corner shop one afternoon with your friends from class, as you always did on a weekday to stock up on chocolate to get you though the rest of the day. jungmo, who had memorised your day, was stood outside the shop. you thought he’d just be waiting for his friends since this was also his local shop and so you tried to ignore him as much as possible.

“oh y/n, fancy seeing you here” he laughed as if he hadn’t planned this for days. “i think we should talk yeah? what do you say?” he held out his hand, indicating that he was going to take you somewhere else, but you both knew there was nothing around.

your friends were suspicious of his behaviour and so they started to stand up for you. “whatever you have to say you can say it in front of us” was the basic message.

he looked between them for a bit and look at you for confirmation. you nodded and told him to go on. he gulped loudly and started to fidget with the position of his sleeves. “well i just wanted to say that, the rumours are true. i never denied them even though that’s what you thought, i would never” he confessed. you blinked a few times and your friends seemed to be convinced. they left you and him alone, now cheering for this relationship from the shop window. “i actually do like you. like for real. i don’t know how else to convince you, it’s all on you now, y/n, the ball is in your court.”

woobin:

your phone buzzed. you jumped at it rather quickly, despite trying to not seem suspicious in front of your friends. there were 5 of you sat in the practice room, even though you weren’t an idol yourself, you still got on very well with the other 4 and you could all read each other like a book.

“who’s that?” woobin questioned. he pointed at your phone as jungmo hit his arm.

“wow, way to NOT be jealous, woobin” jungmo laughed before going wide eyed, realising he’d pretty much just exposed woobin.

you brushed over the comment, you didn’t want to think too deeply into it and get your hopes up. “it’s just a school friend” you responded to woobin with a smile. “they need a place dance so i said they could come here and practice, i hope you guys don’t mind.” since your friends knew her, well except jungmo and woobin since they didn’t go to school, you thought it would be okay.

when she arrived you all went to say hello and went back to doing your own things. however, you couldn’t help but notice woobin’s wandering eyes falling on your friend and their dancing. you were SO jealous but what could you do. jungmo could tell you were jealous, the short snappy responses really gave it away. in his eyes, the damage had already been done, he’d exposed woobin, why not expose you too, maybe then you’d both stop being blind.

“y/n, can’t woobin just appreciate some good dancing?” he said, bringing everyone’s eyes to you, who was staring at woobin with an angry expression. the room went silent apart from the slight music from your friends headphones. after a few throat clears and awkward exists, it ended up just being you and woobin in the room, this was officially the most humiliating moment of your life.

he looked at you and then back at the ground again, his eyes looking focused on one tiny spec of dust on the floor, he seemed to be concentrating on it so hard but he was actually just trying to form a cohesive sentence in his brain to express his feelings to you.

“i’d never look at anyone else the way i look at you, i know you don’t notice it, but i adore you” you said out loud. he didn’t mean for it to come out, but after you told him you liked him too he was actually pretty grateful that he said it.

wonjin:

it was a big birthday for you and you were getting ready for your meal. you invited over your best friend, wonjin, to get ready with you at your house. your room was a mess, there was barely room for two people to stand without breaking something or stepping on clothes. this was rare for you, but you couldn’t find the outfit you had planned to wear and so the only option was to turn your whole room over, with help from wonjin of course. you finally found it and went into the bathroom to put it on while wonjin put on his freshly ironed shirt. he was excited for you, butterflies going crazy in his stomach.

you returned back to your room with the outfit on, a little higgledy-piggledy but nothing that wonjin couldn’t sort for you. you then realised you needed to paint your nails. first attempt: failure. it went all over your fingers as well as your nails, there was no way you could go out like that.

“i can do them for you” wonjin stated, sitting besides you on your bed in front of your desk. you thought the gesture was sweet, but you were too stressed to let anyone touch you right now. “y/n, let me paint your nails” wonjin was practically begging at this point, and you couldn’t deny it was kind of de-stressing you. you handed him the brush and bottle and let him do his thing. “you hands are so pretty, y/n” he complimented you for the nth time that afternoon. he did a pretty good job of your nails, they looked really nice, way better than yours looked before. you thanked him and put them under the light so they would dry quickly.

the whole time he was painting your nails, wonjin was just thinking about what your hands would look like in his. it wasn’t the first time he’d thought about it, certainly wouldn’t be the last either.

your nails had finished drying pretty quickly, almost as quick as wonjin come up with a master plan on how to hold your hand for they first time.

“let’s compare hand sizes” he giggled, holding his hand up. yours pressed against his, his slightly bigger than yours but not much. after laughing about it for a short while, you didn’t even noticed he’d interlocked his hand with yours.

the laughter stopped briefly and he kissed your hand, “that tiny hand of yours compared to mine is ALMOST as cute as i think you are as a whole” he confessed. “happy birthday, angel” he wanted to kiss your lips this time, and so he waited for any sort of sign from you to do so.

you smiled and said thank you in a sweet tone, and that was enough of a sign.

minhee:

minhee was the most handsome boy you knew, the most handsome boy you could ever imagine even. he’d gotten into contact with you recently after accidentally voting for something on your instagram story when he didn’t mean to. the picture was of you, it was edited in a pretty way and you wanted your friends’ opinion of your new style of editing. after apologising, he kept the conversation going, it was unexpected but you didn’t mind, you tried not to let it die out either. you still hadn’t spoken in person though, there were lots of opportunities where you could have, but you were just too nervous and he radiated awkwardness. you were happy just texting, even if you were in the same room. you’d made eye contact a few times, exchanged a few funny looks in response to the other’s message.

you were setting the table for dinner one evening when you received a message from minhee that made you p a n i c.

“why have we never spoken in person?” it read. it only then dawned on you that you’d been talking for the best part of a year and you were still only pretty much online friends. you stopped laying out the cutlery and stood with your phone in your hands, preparing to type.

he waited at his end for a response. he was sat on his couch, his heart was beating faster than ever but he tried to remain chilled on the outside. when you didn’t respond for 5 minutes, typing and clearing thousands of messages, he took it upon himself to be the bold one.

“come over, we can have a sleep over if you want. it will be cute” he wrote. you panicked once again, it was kinda extreme for the first time talking but you agreed anyway. why did you do that, you thought only after you sent it. you hadn’t even asked your parents. somehow you convinced them to let you sleep over, it wasn’t minhee house that you’d mentioned specifically but pft details what are they?!

your dad dropped you off at the end of the street and you walked the short distance to minhee’s house. he was stood waiting for you at the window in a cute pair of pjs. when you got into his house, no one could shut you two up. you talked for hours, laughing about how weird your online friendship was. in a second though, the laughter stopped, his face became serious and he looked you dead in the eyes.

“when i voted on that thing, i wasn’t lying” he said. you wrecked your brain trying to remember what it was but you couldn’t. he went on to explain, gathering you couldn’t remember “you posted a selfie with the options “pretty or not” and i voted pretty of course. i meant it. you’re really pretty, the prettiest person i’ve ever seen maybe” he looked at you, his eyes were full of hope. you couldn’t stop yourself from confessing back, it felt right and there was nothing you wanted more than to be with him. once the seriousness was over, you corrected him on what the voting was actually for, but he didn’t care.

hyeongjun:

the boy you now knew as one of your closest friends was one of the first people to talk to you at your new school. you’ll never forget your first day, he came up to you with a bright smile and said hello. from that moment on you’d had a crush on him, he was a total cutie how could you not. since that day you’d spent a lot of time together. you studied together, you snacked together, sometimes you even napped together. he was perfect and you couldn’t ask for a better friend, you just wish you were more than that. he did too. ever since he laid eyes on you, you were the only person occupying his brain.

after one particularly long day at school, he invited you over to his house to chill for a bit. you were going to say no but then again you didn’t really want to go home to your sister and her new boyfriend doing unspeakable things while your parents were at work. you let out a shy yes and sent you sister a text telling her where you were.

you arrived at the dorms, the others, who you were well acquainted with, said a quick hello before getting back to their prior activities. you looked tired and so hyeongjun’s first suggestion was to nap. you felt bad, just going to his place to sleep, so you refused the offer, instead suggesting you played some video games or watched tv. a concerned hyeongjun decided the latter was probably better right now, he couldn’t force a loss on mario kart at the best of times, nevermind when you were sleepy. you slouched slightly on the couch, hyeongjun doing the same, controller in his hand. he hadn’t even picked a show yet when he felt your head hit his shoulder. he smiled at you and turned the tv off. he watched you for a little while, occasionally pushing your hair behind your ear when needed. he called you beautiful many times, he even at one point kissed your nose.

“i really like you y/n, you’re the sweetest person ever, the best” he whispered to you before making sure no one heard him in the dorm, he couldn’t deal with their teasing about this, anything but this.

you smiled a little bit, laughing almost, but only out of awkwardness. yes you were tired, that’s why you put your head on his shoulder, it didn’t mean you were asleep.

he shot up immediately, very embarrassed. “there’s no need to be like that, hyeongjun, it’s okay, i think you’re the sweetest person too, and i really like you”.

taeyoung:

every year you wished you received a valentine’s card from someone who wasn’t your mum who felt sorry for you. you didn’t make it obvious like some people at your school, you didn’t constantly check your locker, that was just obsessive, you thought. there was one boy at school who everyone fawned over, taeyoung. he was known for being very secretive about his crushes though, he never told anyone anything about his love life. you couldn’t help but fall for him. he did a dance performance once and that was it, whipped. his eyes were cute and his smile even cuter. you’d exchange eye contact in the corridor sometimes, maybe even a small “hi”. in class you’d talk to each other on the odd occasion, the new seating plan now making that more often, but you weren’t particularly close. you didn’t think you were good enough to even be friends with him, but he tried his hardest to make it happen.

valentine’s day rolled around again, friday 14th february, it was your last year in school, your last chance to receive some cliche card or letter or SOMETHING. your day started off pretty normally, you walked to school and arrived at your first lesson, however, your teacher had plans to make your day much much worse. “presentations next tuesday, it will go towards your final grade, work with the people on your table, good luck”. you looked up and your eyes met with the boy who sat opposite you, taeyoung. “sorry, we have a thing next tuesday” you heard the twins (that sat on your table too) announce. that just left you and taeyoung to present. you worked hard together, twins included, in the limited lesson time, but had concluded that you’d have to finish it out of school hours, just the two of you, since their “thing” conveniently spread all over the course of the next week.

you tried not to think about it much during the rest of the day and decided having fun with your friends at lunch was more important, you’d even forgotten the date, it seemed that these presentations had shook the whole school. you went to your locker at the end of the day when a small note came flying out. you knew whose hand writing it was immediately, taeyoung.

“you don’t need to worry about this presentation, y/n. i saw how nervous you looked when miss bitch told us about it, so i’ll do all the talking, it’s okay. we could finish writing it at that coffee shop down the street, a date maybe? then i can tell you about how much i’ve liked you for years hehe”

upon reading the note you texted him a “yes!!!” straight away and headed to the coffee shop with a spring in your step.

seongmin:

your best friend seongmin had asked you to prom, as friends, he made sure you knew you were just going as friends. you had basically made a deal that you would go together, even if either of you had proper dates, because you didn’t want to leave school without being together that whole magical evening.

seongmin showed up at your house wearing a black suit and a red tie, accompanied by his mother who had a huge smile on her face. the pair of you had a very awkward conversation while your parents watched over you two, as you do, before taking a few photos together. you’d be lying if you said his arm around your waist didn’t bring butterflies to your stomach. you were sure one of these days you’d accidentally reveal your crush on him, but you hoped to GOD it wasn’t this evening, you didn’t want to ruin it.

you went into your room to grab your phone and some make up, just incase. seongmin followed.

“can you put me some lip tint on, please?” he asked, glaring at your lips with his sparkling eyes. you couldn’t say no to him. he puckered his lips as you gently brushed the tint over them, you really wanted to kiss him right now. “you know” he was shut up by you continuing to lather his lips in red. he pushed your hand away in a dramatic way, rather expected given it was seongmin. “you know, you look really good tonight” he finished. you thanked him and returned the compliment. he fiddled with the closed lip tint that you threw on the bed next to him while you tried to find your phone. “i promised myself i’d tell you this before prom and i still have time so here goes” you were only half listening to him, still panicked because you couldn’t find your phone. “i really like you, y/n, and i think we should go to prom together... as a couple? if you want to, i don’t know why you wouldn’t but...” he let out a breath to shut himself up as his eyes followed you around your room. you didn’t react at first, only processing what he said about a minute after. you stopped searching and looked over to him sat on your bed. “i’d love to” you practically shouted, running over to hug him. he stood up and hugged you back. you noticed your phone on the bed, right where he was sat, but you didn’t really care at that point anymore, nothing was more important than this moment.

gifs aren’t mine

[creepyalienghost]

Yandere.

It was Sammy’s first day of college but it was also Sammy’s first time away from home. Where he grew up in an a abusive house hold. He had never been shown love by anyone in his life. Not even at school. The students constantly bullied him and the teachers there hated him. Even his boss treated him like a robot and didn’t care how tired and overworked he was. He was numb to the pain and didn’t care for people anymore. To him they would all just hurt him one day or another. He was glad the dorms there only held one person, him. He wouldn’t ever get any rest or time to recover if there he had to worry all the time here.

His first corse came Monday the following week, Business. He didn’t care for the core but he figured it would help him in the future. The Professor spent the first half explaining the rules to the class and the things they were going to learn here. In the second half the professor told them to group up in twos for the first activity.

Sammy dreaded this activity. He could hear everyone getting up and finding there partner or friend. No one will choose him. No one ever chooses him. Ever. He gets left behind in everything all the time like-

“Excuse me?” Came a nice Southern male voice behind him, causing him to be startled and looked back. “I’m sorry for scaring you there. May I be your partner?” The man to the voice ask.

Sammy looked away from him, shyly. Why has he come to him an ask. Usually the teacher just ins up putting him in one or demanding another kid to join him so they could get on with the lesson. But this guy! He came without that or hesitation. It felt...good. “Y-yea.” Sammy clear his thought. “Yea sure.”

“Thanks” the guy replied, sitting next to Sammy. “I’m Norman.”

Sammy’s heart was beating fast and his stomach was doing all kinds of flips. Why would he want to be his partner? Why does he speak so kind to him? “I’m uh. Sammy..”He mumbled.

Norman gave him a kind smile. “That’s a nice name, Sammy.”

Sammy’s heart skip from that. No one has ever complemented him before. It was a lovey feeling. “ I-uh...t-thank you...” he mumbled again.

They were silent for a minute as they listen to the professors instructions on what the activity was. They would have to come up with a Product and try to sell it to the class. Once the teacher was finished he let everyone begin. “Alright, Sammy. Got anything in mind for a Product?” Norman asked

Sammy tried to think of something but his mind was distracted by his kindness. After a moment he shook his head. “N-no.” He replied, scared now that he’ll hate him for failing. “I’m sorry...”

Norman wasn’t mad though. He smiled at him again. A smile that flipped Sammy’s stomach. “No need to be sorry Sammy.” He replied. “Let’s do...a new game?” He looked at Sammy. “How’s that sound?”

“That sounds...n-nice..” Sammy said relieved yet confused that he still doesn’t hate him.

Sammy sat there and watched him write down some idea Though out the activity. Norman green eyes return to Sammy after he finished with his part of the list. “Do you have any ideas for this new game?”

Sammy looked down in wonder in thought. He didn’t want to fail him with this. He wanted Norman to like him. He needed it. “Maybe....a music game?...like you can play as a musician?...” he mumbled looking back at his face.

Norman nodded. “That sounds interesting.” He wrote it down and they continue to work on this.

The class ended 10 minutes later and everyone beings packing up and leaving. Sammy starting doing the same with his belongings when Norman turned around to him. “Hey Sammy. Is this your first year here?”

Sammy turned to him and nodded. “Y-yes. Why?”

“Because. It’s my second here.” Norman replied. “And I was wondering if you wanted to hang tonight? I can show you the town?” He ask.

He...He wanted to hang out with him? Like on a date? He he only experience this type of thing in shows. Sammy’s palms begin to sweet as well as his heart beats faster. “Yes!..I -I mean yes..” he cleared his throat.

Norman smiled a beautiful smile. “Great. Meet me at the lobby to the dorms at 7” with that he left the class.

Later that night Sammy goes to the lobby a few minutes before And learns on the wall, waiting. He passed the time by watching people. One guy was doing homework at one of the little tables, a group of guys were playing pool on the other side of the room and more walk in and out.

A few minutes later he saw Norman walk in and he got up as he approaches. “Hey. You ready?” Norman ask.

Sammy nodded. “I’m r-ready”

Norman smiled and leaned Sammy out. It was a nice cool night out and perfect for walking in. Norman loved these nights. It was peaceful walking and watching the people or sky watching or going to haunted places according to his friend Joey.

The first place Norman took him was a coffee shop. Hanks coffee shop to be exact. It was located on Main Street between the corner store and a diner. When they entered the shop, the delicious smell of coffee with a hint of honey hit them both. It made his mouth water.

“This is we’re I’d love to come and study or do homework.” Norman said. “It’s relaxing and a great place to get coffee.” He informed him with a smile. “Speaking of coffee wanna get one for the road?”

Sammy nodded in reply. “Yes. Coffee sounds great!”

Norman had ordered an ice coffee for himself and offered to pay for Sammy’s chocolate chip flapper chino coffee. They slowly sipped it as they walked down the sidewalk, passing other cute little shops

And places. A clothing store, a comic shop, a candy shop and many other places.

Norman brought him to the local book shop next. When they arrived inside Sammy saw rows and rows of books. From sci-fi to horror. “I’m a bit of a nerd.” Norman said chuckling. “So i come hear a lot.” He turned to Sammy. “Are you? Do you like to read”

Sammy shrugged his shoulders after a minute of thought. “I’m...I never really read anything t-that wasn’t for homework..”

Norman smiled. “Would you like me to pick you out a book?”

Sammy smiled and nodded. “Yes please! That would be fantastic!

Norman and Sammy spent hours looking around for something Sammy would enjoy. Norman ask questions to help decide what he likes like “do you like things about monsters” or “do you like a good mystery” in the end they came up with a sci-fi book. They payed for it and the two went to the diner to eat before heading back.

——

The morning after he took an hour reading his new book before classed and found himself really enjoying it. Once it was time to get to class he got ready and walked out of his dorm, passing the lobby on the way outside. But he stopped by what he saw. Norman was playing pool with another person! She was tall and fit with brown hair and Hazel eyes.

Sammy felt crush by this. Norman was laughing with her and talking to her, showing her how to play. He even offered her hang out later! This was unfair! Wasn’t he Normans friends? Why was she even around him! He needed to do something! Before he losses his own friend.

In the first class he didn’t focus on the Biology lesson the Professor was given. He was to busy deciding what to do with her. Should he push her in front of a car? Or should he trip her down the straits? No. Those are all Public. He needed something that could be done in public. He didn’t want be seen by people and get arrested.

After another minute of thinking he came up with the perfect way. A small twisted smile spread on to his face. After this Norman would be his friend again

—

Lacie entered the girls dorm after leaving the library with Norman and headed up

To her room. She unlocked her dorm door and stepped in, kicking off her shoes. It’s been a long busy day with school, work and homework that she was ready for a shower and then sleep. Lacie set her bag down on the desk and walked to her closet for some clothes, opening it. That’s when her head burst out in pain and everything went black.

When she came to she had a massive headache. The light was blinding as she slowly opened her eyes. Once she was cautiously aware she her hands were tied in the back and she was up on a chair with a noose around her neck. “What the hell!?” She yelled before noticing a guy in the corner. “Who are you?!... what the fuck is this?!”

The guy came forward with a deep glear of hatred tours her. “I’m Sammy. And Normans my friend!” Sammy kicked the chair out from underneath her, watching her fall and struggle to breath. He watched her kick her feet And try to kick the chair back to her, with no luck. It wasn’t long before she stopped moving and her body slumped.

Sammy finished his work by cutting her hands free from the rope, placed a note on her desk and slipped out into the night without being seen. He later laid in bed and thought about Norman being his friend again tomorrow.

-

Its been three days since the passing of Lacie. Everyone was shocked that she would do something like that. She always seemed so happy. So ready to take on the day. So ready for anything that life through at her. Norman took it pretty hard. He blames himself for not seeing the signs. He was just with her before she did it. Why couldn’t she had talk to him? He would’ve listened and tried to help her. The school held a memorial in her honor. Everyone showed up to pay respect. Norman was one of them that gave a speech there. She talked about how they were best friends since they were kids. This hurt Sammy a lot to see. Part of him felt sorry for hurting him but the other part was hurt by how much he loved her. Still, now that she’s gone he can have Norman be his friend. Other than that Norman hadn’t came out of his dorm in three days.

Sammy decided that he wanted to visit him tonight, to make sure he was alright. He could help him feel better and hopefully make him laugh.

After his last class of the day he stopped by the flower shop to buy a lovey Bouquet of flowers for Norman. He never been to a funeral before nor tried to help anyone feel better. He saw this idea on tv shows and movies and he thought it was a nice thing now. There were many different options and all of them beautiful but he eventually chose a set with Beautiful red and orange flowers that smelled good.

He walked happily back to campus and into the boys dorm. He heart was filled with Joy as he walked down the 5th floor to Normans room. But the Joy and happiness was instantly crushed when he saw another guy walking out of Normans room. He stopped in his tracks and hid behind a wall, listening.

“Don’t hesitate to call, alright man?” The guy said to Norman.

Norman stepped out and nodded. “I won’t. Thanks Jack.” With that he closed the door and jack began walking out. He passed Sammy without noticing the small man. Sammy dropped the flowers, stepping on them and following jack.

Sammy followed him for little more then five minutes, planning on what he was going to do with this one. When they got near a pound he knew exactly how to get rid of him.

He looked around on the ground for a minute before he stopped a good side rock and grabbed it. He then quicken his paste to get closer to him. At that point jack notice the sounds behind him and turned around to see what it was. It was to late for jack though. The rock knocked him out before he could respond.

Sammy quickly got to work. He started stuffing large rocks in jacks pockets. His Jeans, his hoodie pocket and even in his hoodie it self. Once he was finished with that he pushed jack into the pound and watched him sink. He quickly left the area.

Luckily for Sammy, It stormed that night. The rain watched away all of jack blood and smooth out there foot prints. The neck day there was a missing report on jack. The police searched for days and came up empty-handed. After a week of looking they had to call off the investigation. They chief of police finally claim was he ran away to stop a new life.

Sammy waited a few days before he decided to visit Norman. So things can calm down enough in Norman life. He seen Norman sad when he was in class earlier and wanted to help him and be there for him like he was on the first day. Sammy had been preparing a speech since Monday, again like he seen on tv shows and movies. He felt like he was ready on Wednesday to give the actual speech to Norman.

He went to Normans next class and waited outside of his class and waited for the remaining minutes. Once they were rushing out he peak in between person after person trying to catch Norman. But once he saw him he was hugging another girl. This time with short blonde hair and green hair. She was more girly then the last. She was also beautiful.

This time Sammy didn’t feel sad or heart broken or betrayed. Sammy felt anger and hate in his heart. Why couldn’t he just have one friend to himself!? Why couldn’t he have one good thing in his shitty damn life?! This was so unfair to him and he couldn’t take it anymore! He snapped.

Late that night Sammy came across campus and snuck in the girls dorm. He were a black hoodie that covered most of his face up, not like anyone would notice him anyways. In the pocket laid a knife. He went up to Susies dorm and knocked on her door. He wasn’t in his right mind now. Anger and hate lead him.

When she opened the door she couldn’t even get a word in. He took the knife out and stabbed her in the stomach, watching her gasp. He took it out and stabbed her with it again. He repeated it over and over again even after she stopped responding. It was like was in a trance. Stabbing and stabbing. He opened snapped out of it when he herd a gasp like scream.

He looked over and saw Norman at the door but backing away from him. He looked back down of what’s in front of him and gasp himself. There was so much blood on and around him! So much it scared him. He looked back at Norman and reached out for him. “No wait!-“ he called out.

Norman backed away another stepped. “Stay away from me! Don’t come any closer!” He replied and on the verge of crying. “Someone help! He killed my friend!” He yelled out.

Nothing could be done now. Sammy herd doors opening and people starting to freak out once they released what was going on. He herd the caretaker coning and some got on the phone for the police. He couldn’t run away from this. From what he just done. He looked at his hand all covered in blood then cried.

About 15 minutes later the police and ambulance should up on the campus. The police stormed up to Sammy and arrested him with no problem. He didn’t fight them, And when he was lead to the police car he didn’t look at the people watching the scene unfold. It was unbearable to see that. They put Sammy in the back of the car and drove him away.

——

Who wants a part two?!

[callmeelle22]

Blue Dream II

Paring: Iris West x Barry Allen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 6, 097

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool; Summary: His response is to tilt his head to the side and gaze down at her, eyes tracing the length of her legs and the curve of her hips and the dip of her waist. He lingers on her cleavage and this time, when he meets her eyes, she feels it, the sensation like she’s been put on simmer, like he’s warming her slowly, easing her into her own combustion, sparking like the lyrics to this song, and then you, came to save the day and I must say, you may have done some more. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

Chapter VII: I'm in Love with You

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

It's Cool

My escape from everything

Please say you'll be my nothing

And I will give you everything

Man, you are really something else

On Friday nights, Iris spends time alone. She lives in a relatively small apartment near Central City U’s campus where she makes peanuts as a teaching assistant while she completes her journalism master’s. Her weeks are long and arduous, what with attending her own classes and all but teaching the ones she assists. Her evenings are often spent eating turkey sandwiches with one hand and completing assignments with the other. And when those are done, she logs into her blog, What a Life You’ve Lived, and types up the stories people send to her. That part doesn’t make her tired; no, she likes being able to tell others’ stories, likes that they trust a woman they’ve never seen to tell their lives in a way that they might not ever see.

But it’s still why, on Friday nights, she pours herself an overfull glass of wine, fills a pipe bowl with some of the marijuana she gets from the dispensary by Linda’s place, and orders Thai food while she watches something from her Netflix or Hulu queue or sometimes she listens to music. She’s already showered, wearing a pair of green silk shorts and a matching tank top, pretty cream piping along the top of the tank and the hem of the shorts—she doesn't always dress like this when she’s home alone; she just likes the feeling of the silk on her skin when she’s high—and her hair is already wrapped and tied with her scarf when the doorbell rings. She frowns at the door because she’s only just ordered her pad Thai noodles and those spring rolls she likes, and there’s no way the delivery is there yet because she always sets the order for when she’s sufficiently intoxicated.

She figures that it could be her brother Wally or even Linda because they’ve both been known to drop by without calling. A touch annoyed, she goes to the door and swings it open, ready to go off for interrupting what they know is her self-care night. But then she’s stopped short, the music still playing in the background—you caught me at an awful time; see i just lost my smile—because it’s him.

Iris’s liquor-soaked memories don’t do him much justice because there he is, live and solid. He is tall, even taller than she’d thought as she stands in her bare feet. He’s lean, the dark jeans hanging off his hips and his plain gray shirt showing off the corded muscles in his arms. There’s a tattoo sleeve on his right forearm, a complicated bouquet of flowers that doesn't take away from the masculine energy he exudes standing at her door, his hands stuffed in his pockets. She can tell now that his hair is brown and a little bit messy, as if he constantly runs his hands through it. She does a quick scan of the rest of him: dark moles dotting the skin of his throat, thin pink mouth, the hint of a 5 o’clock shadow covering the cut of his jaw. It’s still his eyes, though, that gets her. It’s not only the color of them—somehow blue with hints of moss and gold or maybe they’re like moss with hints of gold and gray—but it’s the way he’s looking at her too. Like they're always searching, and that is what you helped me find; hadn't seen it in a while, looking for what she won't reveal.

She knows that her night set only just covers the swell of her ass and dips down in her cleavage. She knows that she’s scrubbed head to toe in her rosewater body butter. But he, he looks at her like he knows it too. Like he sees all of the tawny brown skin she’s not showing, like he’s seeing something, something more than the wide set of her full mouth and the whiskey chocolate of her eyes.

“Hey,” he speaks, and there’s nothing particularly memorable about his voice, but the tone of it is low, and it sends an involuntary shiver through her.

“I know this is weird,” he continues, “and you can definitely tell me to leave. But I didn’t have your number or even your name, and I’ve been thinking about you all week and…” He tapers off, and Iris lets her eyes travel up the length of him once more.

“Wanna come in?”

She doesn’t know what possesses her to ask—okay, maybe that bit about thinking of her all week helped—but when he nods, a smile easing on his face, her heart starts doing that seizing thing again.

She steps aside to let him in.

He sees the shoes she’d worn to work sitting by the door so he toes off his own sneakers beside them and Iris has to stop herself from acknowledging what they look like next to hers. Instead, she watches as he takes a look around. She’s proud of what she’s been able to do with a consignment shop and limited funds. The focal point is an overstuffed sofa in a light gray and its matching armchair; a multicolored rug with bold hints of sage and orange lies under the dark circular coffee table which is the same color as the bookshelf against her wall, the six shelves teeming with books, as well as the TV stand. She’s got some early artwork by a few Black local artists on her wall, a couple of her favorite quotes printed and framed next to them.

The room feels smaller with him in it. While Iris is no nun, it’s been months since a man other than her brother or dad has been in her home and it feels...strange. The air seems denser somehow, heavy—heavy with the cloud of tension that hovers around them, heavy with the knowledge that the print of this man is still one that she can feel in her body when she falls asleep at night.

She notes that his eyes track the grinder and pipe in plain view on her coffee table and when she faces him again, his eyebrow is lifted.

“Do you partake?” she wonders.

He shrugs. “Sometimes.”

“Will you tonight?”

His response is to tilt his head to the side and gaze down at her, eyes tracing the length of her legs and the curve of her hips and the dip of her waist. He lingers on her cleavage and this time, when he meets her eyes, she feels it, the sensation like she’s been put on simmer, like he’s warming her slowly, easing her into her own combustion, sparking like the lyrics to this song, and then you, came to save the day and I must say, you may have done some more.

He licks his lips. “Yes.”

He tells her his name is Bartholomew Allen.

First, she goes into the kitchen to grab another of the long-stemmed wine glass that the professor she works for had given her as a housewarming gift. Then she eases down onto the sofa before she spreads her arm in an invitation for him to sit too. She pours from the bottle of wine and hands him the glass; he takes it from her, fingers grazing hers where they’re cupped around the bowl.

“My name is Bartholomew Allen,” he says, sort of abruptly.

She blinks over at him, a corner of her mouth lifting. “Your parents named you Bartholomew?”

“It’s a family name,” he adds, and though there’s no hint of embarrassment in his voice when he says it, Iris sees the way his cheeks flush red.

It makes her smile. All she has are the hazy images of him in her head: the way he’d boldly walked up to ask her to dance, how the kisses he’d pressed into her skin had been sure and all-encompassing. There had been no blush to his cheeks that first night when he’d been whispering into her ear; though Iris does recall how the rest of him had turned this same lovely shade of red, like a tinge of wine under his skin, when she had grabbed his ass to push him deeper into her.

In any case, Iris hadn’t thought of him like this, blushing at something as simple as his name and this dichotomy endears him to her.

“But you can call me Barry,” he says after taking a sip of his wine, almost like an afterthought.

“Well, Barry,” she says, “I’m Iris West.”

He looks at her over the rim of his glass. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Iris.”

It’s atypical of her, she knows, inviting this man back into her house like this. Her police captain father would warn her that this is the way that women die. Wally would tsk at her with only slight disapproval, more specifically concerned with the fact that she hadn’t bothered to learn his name before she’d let him climb into her bed. It isn’t a habit of hers, one-night stands (or two nights, she supposes, after tonight) with pale-skinned men from clubs she rarely frequents. But that day, last Saturday, she had gotten an email from the professor of her Feature Writing course with harsh feedback on one of her assignments, and Wally, only in his junior year of undergrad, had canceled their dinner, and she hadn’t updated her blog in what felt like weeks and…

And she’s been in such a space of discontent lately, with the rigid monotony of her days, the school and work and school and work, and she has spent more time than she realizes alone. Her best (and really, her only) friend is in the stages of a building relationship and her dad is too. She’s got people, she does, but they seem so tangential these days. So on Saturday, she’d put on a dress that had shown too much of her brown skin and shoes that had given her more legs than most men know what to do with. And she’d walked down along the aptly named Bar Street, past the uh, I won't love a ho, after we fuck she can't get near me, only bitch I give a conversation to is Siri and the so when are you gonna tell her, that we did that too? until she’d come to the door of something sultrier calling out to her, as seductive and enticing as a siren, and she had answered.

Then, somewhere between her third tequila and her ninth or tenth song, hope that's cool; ‘cause i'm really not trying to, impose but I suppose that, i'm supposed to be here, with you, Barry had come to dance with her, with the long line of his body following her rhythm and the pleasing smell of the lemongrass on his clothes and—for the first time in longer than she cares to admit—Iris had begun to feel.

It explains why she let him come home with her a week ago. It explains why he’s in her apartment now.

“Iris?” She hears Barry call her name, and by the look on his face, she knows it isn’t the first time he’s tried to get her attention. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she nods. “Sorry about that. I space out sometimes.” She points towards her table. “Shall we?”

He looks at her a little unsure, as if he wants to say more, but he eventually just nods in agreement. “Sure.”

She leans forward and grabs the grinder. The first time she smoked weed, she’d been a freshman in college. As cliche as it sounds, she’d had a roommate from Colorado who’d brought a stash with her and had offered a hit to Iris once at a house party. She’d liked it immediately, had liked how her brain had cleared, as if someone had wiped away all the writing on a chalkboard, erasing the mounting pressure of being the first university college kid in her family, of being the example for her brother who was ten times smarter and twice as reckless; had liked how much lighter her body had felt, as if she was floating, lying upon a cloud or somewhere even lighter, even higher.

She’s not a heavy smoker, the practice delegated to her Friday night routine and only in the couple years since it’s become legal recreationally in Central City. Still, she can’t help but feel a little nervous right now as Barry watches her pull the small canister towards her and open it. She makes quick work of pinching out a couple nuggets of the blue city diesel she prefers and grinding it up before packing the bowl of the pipe. It’s a pretty thing, made of glass in a dark green with blue and orange swirls. There is the flick of the lighter, and Iris brings the pipe to her lips and inhales.

She can all but feel the smoke flowing through her body, unbending her spine and relaxing her legs, curling in her lungs and moving to her head, making the thoughts there—the stress of classes, the constant sting of loneliness, and even the simmering tension she feels with Barry next to her—start to scatter until they’re no longer noticeable.

She passes the pipe over to Barry, who takes it from her gingerly, the tips of his long fingers brushing her again. She shivers, but she doesn’t acknowledge it, instead leaning back onto the couch, her legs crossed in the seat, as she watches him. He flicks the lighter a couple of times before it lights, and then he fires at the weed and takes a hit. His skin shades the faintest hint of pink and then he pulls the pipe away from his mouth and coughs, a deep cough that waters his eyes.

“You okay?” she questions. He nods as he passes it back. They do this, back and forth, until Barry breathes the smoke in easier and Iris falls even deeper into the couch. That’s when the doorbell rings.

“It’s the food,” she says and Barry is on his feet before she can even make sense of it. “Wait, I have money,” she tries, standing, because this is a mom-and-pop sort of pace and they still do their own delivery instead of going through the more expensive, albeit convenient, routes.

By the time Iris has grabbed her wallet from her purse, Barry is grabbing food and saying “Thanks, man” to Tony, the tall bearded college student who normally delivers it to her.

“Oh what’s up, Iris?” he says to her when she peeks around Barry’s shoulder.

“Hi, Tony. Do I owe you the same?”

“Oh, your boy already got it.” He smiles, a dimple winking at her in his bronze skin. “Y’all have a good night,” he adds and then he winks at her for real before disappearing back downstairs. She backs up to let Barry in the door.

“Barry, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. I’m crashing your night and I’m smoking your weed. It’s the least I can do.”

Iris hums, looking up at him. He’s sort of pretty, she thinks absently, with his eyes like gems and his pink mouth, his expression soft and earnest.

“Come on.”

Iris always orders way too much food, usually with the intent to eat off the leftovers for a couple of meals. It’s a spread, with walnut shrimp, a green/ginger salad, pad thai, Bangkok chicken, and several Thai spring rolls, so it's definitely enough to share. She inhales several forkfuls of noodles while Barry attacks the Bangkok chicken. They eat in relative silence, the music still playing in the background, with eyes are sad, i smile, i think you'll find, you need me just like i need you, yeah; but it's cool, we ain't gotta be nothing, it's true, i'd actually prefer it, yeah; it's on you, it's on you, it's on you.

It’s when they’re done eating, when Iris has placed the containers in the refrigerator and they’re both snuggled deeper into the couch, wine glasses close by, that their night really begins. Iris has packed another bowl and takes another hit. And with a lungful of smoke, she asks,

“What sort of music do you like to listen to when you smoke?”

“I don’t think that I smoke enough to know.”

She hands him the bowl and grabs the remote to the smart tv, pulling up the playlist she’d made for nights like this. It gets longer every couple of days, songs that catch her fancy, songs with beats that sing as much as the artists, songs that seep in like the weed does, running through her like the blood in her vein does. The song plays—and i'm not even gonna front, at first i was just tryna fuck, but you have got me so in love, so deep in love, so please be love—and Iris closes her eyes, savoring the mellow sound of the music.

She takes pulls from her wine glass as Barry smokes and then the actions reverse. They take turns, back and forth, until Iris feels her lids drop, sees the slight haze that covers everything in her sight. Barry is sitting at the other end of the chair, but Iris swears that she can feel him, feel the solid heat of him, feel the touch of him like prickles on her skin. When she gazes over at him, positioning herself so that her back is against the arm of the chair and her painted toes just miss Barry’s thighs, she finds that he’s looking at her again.

“What?” she asks.

He shakes his head, indicating nothing, and the movement is slow, stilted. But then he asks,

“How do you feel, about my showing up here?”

She shrugs. “Surprised,” she tells him. “That you wanted to come; that you remembered where I lived.”

Barry chuckles, a low, gentle sound. “I only remembered because of the wreath, the sunflowers.”

She doesn’t add this, though a surprise, is not one she dislikes. She likes his company, even if she can’t name why.

“Barry,” she calls, to grab his attention again, and the way he tilts his head in acknowledgment makes her think more intently on the words of this song—and I'm not even gonna lie, i wouldn't mind if we just lie, together 'til the end of time, if that is fine with you, it's fine with me—and she shakes her head at the thought.

“Hmm?” he hums, eyes never wavering.

“What made you come here tonight?”

She’s sufficiently high now. She’d been careful not to overstuff herself with food and both the wine and diesel have done their job. She feels both languid and like she’s soaring, all at once. The music helps and she’s waiting in anticipation as she waits for his answer.

It’s slow coming, his answer. Before he responds, he touches gingerly at her bare ankles, fingers skimming along the bones of one and then the other. His fingers are warm and Iris feels the light callouses there, shocked at the sensation of the roughened skin on hers, how the touch sends sparks up the lines of her legs. He brings one of her feet up on his lap, and it seems so small in his hands. He presses his thumb into her instep, glides it down to the heel, and back up. Iris lets out a moan, the sound inaudible over the music—definitely love, definitive love—but the tiny uplift of the corner of his mouth suggests he’d heard it, and he grabs her other foot and repeats the action. Then he says,

“I wanted to know if it was as good as my memory.”

He trails his fingers up her left calf, still kneading her right foot. “I kept thinking of you,” he tells her, “about the taste of your mouth and the grip of your slick, and I had to know if I was only drunk and making it up.”

It’s the sensations that make her respond the way she does. It’s the easy purr of keyboards she hears behind Jhene’s dulcet voice; it’s his touch, how it seems to reverberate through her entire body; it the smell of him, of the room: the fainting smell of the smoke and the rosewater butter on her own skin and what she imagines it’ll smell like mixed with the scent of him that she remembers, the notes citrusy and bright.

“Me too,” she tells him. “I woke up on Sunday and I could still feel you. You were gone and much of you was a memory, but the feel of you was still there and…”

(and I wanted you to still be here, wanted to make a lasting memory, a real one, that would keep me warm when school and wavering friendships couldn’t)

But she doesn’t say any of that. Barry has all but mentioned he’s come over to sleep with her again and she can admit that the thought does have immense appeal, even if it’s not the only thing she thinks she wants from him.

She leans up and moves her ankle out of his grasp; he raises an eyebrow at the loss of contact, but then she widens her legs and reaches for him, grabbing at his shirt to pull him on top of her. He comes willingly, hovering above her, holding himself up with one arm on the top of the couch. All Iris can think about is the weight of him on top of her, how guarded it makes her feel, how secure.

“Is this okay?” he asks, voice quiet against the strain of the music from the television set, though she’d been the one to pull him in. He presses his body down, and her legs part automatically, craving him there again. She can tell that he’s high, in the red of his eyes and in the slow ways he’s talking, weighing every word before he lets it out.

“Yes,” she responds, just as quietly.

This seems like a moment here, one Iris can’t make sense of, not knowing what he’s here for. But he’s looking at her like she’s something, like he sees her, and it’s, it’s electrifying.

So when he leans down and kisses her, she leans up and gives it back, letting his mouth work her over. Barry is a good kisser. He starts out easy, slow, just his mouth moving against hers. His lips are soft and he tastes like wine and, somehow, the sex she knows they’re about to have, and the thought makes her close her eyes as she gives herself over to him. He licks at the seam of her lips, bites down her bottom one, and then licks at her again, demanding entry. She opens for him, eyes fluttering closed as he takes full control of her mouth. He sucks on her tongue, and then her lip again, and then he’s back to working her over with his mouth, the kiss wet and sloppy, increasingly erotic.

He is hard between her warm thighs, the solid long length of him, and she has to touch him. She rubs her hands down his back, over his cotton t-shirt, and then up under, along his spine. He shivers on top of her but doesn’t stop kissing her. She keeps one hand running up and down his back, loving the feel of him beneath her palm, and she fingers along his torso with the other, light touches that make his belly clench, that make his hips flex into her. He hums into her mouth, a sound more like a low growl, and it vibrates through her body, moving until it pulses between her legs. She moans in response, and it is that that breaks the kiss. Barry pulls back to look at her, and she likes that he looks a little bit wrecked. He stares down at her, drinking her in, and she knows what he must see: her thighs parted, with the hem of her silk shorts riding high; one strap of her top hanging off her shoulder, her breasts heaving as she tries to catch her breath; her full lips puffy and likely red from his bites; her eyes wide and blown, the dark of her pupils slowly overtaking the brown of her irises. Even her scarf has half-fallen off, and she should care that her hair will be unmanageable tomorrow. But when Barry tilts his head with a question, she lets him take it off and toss it onto her coffee table, and then he leans up, eyes never straying from hers.

“Barry?” she calls but pauses at the look in his eyes.

He fingers at the bottom of her top. “Take it off,” he tells her.

She responds to the slight command in his tone, clenching her stomach muscles as she leans up just enough to pull her tank over her head. He’s kneeling between her legs now, looking down at her breasts sitting heavy on her chest, nipples puckered under his gaze. He hasn’t even touched her yet, and she’s ready. It doesn’t make sense, how responsive she is to him, but she is, even when he’s just there staring.

“Barry?” she calls again, and she thrusts her hips, infinitesimally. It makes him look away from where he’s trying to memorize the weight of her breasts, the smooth tawny brown color of them, the darker areolas, and even darker nipples.

“What are you doing?” she asks, when he doesn’t respond to her.

“Looking at you,” is his too calm answer.

She nods, but huffs out a little breath in annoyance. “Okay, but can you…” fuck me, is the obvious response, but it doesn’t come out as that; instead, it’s another thrust of her hips, her constantly swelling sex rubbing his hard thigh. Barry licks his lips and looks down at her.

“Can I what, Iris?”

“You know,” she says, and squeezes him with her thighs.

“Hmmm,” Barry murmurs. “I don’t know that I do.”

This time, she catches his gaze, noting the glassy look of his eyes, the color grayer in this light. Iris wants to moan at the sight of him.

“Don’t play with me, Barry,” she grumbles, hoping that if she imbues a touch of menace to her words, he’d go ahead and put her out of her misery.

“No?” He lifts an eyebrow. “You don’t want me to play with you, Iris?”

She can’t answer, because then he’s reaching down and parting her thighs wider, enough that Barry can slide the wide leg of one side of her shorts over and expose her pussy to him. She clenches when the air hits her, and then again when Barry slides the tip of his middle finger down the middle of her slit.

She moans, her breath catching at the end of it when she looks down to watch his pale digit disappear inside of her. He dips in and out and in again, and Iris can’t stop watching it. She’s already wet, and his finger is glistening.

“You sure you don’t want me to play with you, Iris?” he asks her, dipping his finger all the way to the knuckle. He brings it back out, and then begins to rub her own wet over her lips. Down the side of her vulva, up the other side. Parting her lips with just that one finger. Sliding in again to gather more of her slick and start his trek over again.

Beneath him, Iris is...a mess. The one finger isn’t enough; she’s too wet for it and she keeps closing around nothing. But her breathing is only growing more labored and she can't. stop. watching. It should be embarrassing; her shorts are soaked through and Barry is still fully clothed, but she can’t be. The look of his long, rough-tipped fingers playing in the pink of her pussy so wholly arousing that she literally thinks that she can come like this.

“No, I,” she tells him, panting. She licks her lips, tries again. “This is…”

“This is what, Iris?” he asks, his cadence still heavy, and honestly, how the fuck does him just saying her name get her off like this. “Use your words, baby.”

“Fuck,” Iris moans.

Barry has the gall to smile. “That’s one.”

“Fuck you,” she moans again.

“Yeah?” Barry questions and he leans down, pulling his dirty little finger out of her and wrapping that same wet hand—wait, how is his whole hand wet—around her waist. He hovers over her, lips just a breath away from hers. “You ready for me to fuck you now?”

She huffs out a surprised laugh. “God, you’re a little bit of a dick.”

“And you’re ready for it now, aren’t you?”

She gives up on trying to be coy. “Yes,” she nods.

Barry has to stand to get out of his clothes, and Iris tries not to whimper at the loss. He pulls his shirt over his head, and Iris sees that his sleeve of flowers extends to his shoulders. He pulls his pants and boxers down, slipping out of his socks too, grabbing his wallet to pull a condom out before tossing it back down on top of his clothes. She watches as he rips open the wrapper and pulls the latex out, pinching its tip and sliding the condom down his length. He’s long and swollen, thicker, maybe, than she remembers, and she finds herself enamored as she watches him touch himself, fingers caressing the thick head and down his shaft.

“Take those off,” he tells her and she didn’t even realize she still has her shorts on. She peels them off, tossing them to the side, and then Barry is between her legs again. He grips her thighs and spreads them, one knee digging into the sofa close to her chest, the other planted high up on his hip.

He rubs himself along her once, making sure she’s still ready for him, and with a hand gripping her waist, he slides into her. She can feel herself opening for him, stretching to make room for him. He pulls out, just to the tip, and then he pushes back in, deeper, harder, and Iris gasps out a long “oohhh.” He rocks up into her, long strokes, slow strokes, like he’s got all the time in the world. She hears herself, she hears them, the wet sound of her pussy taking him in.

“Listen to you,” Barry whispers as he reaches down and thumbs at her clit. “You’re so wet, baby. God,” he groans. “Do you always get like this?” He fucks into her harder, still maddeningly slow, but fuck if it doesn’t make her swell a little more, gush a little more. “Or is it us? Is it me that gets you like this? Dripping out of that pretty little pussy like this?”

“Fuck, Barry, shit.”

He leans down again, until his chest is brushing her. The action plants him deeper, and he fucks into her, steady, persistent. He’s so close that Iris doesn’t know what to do with herself. He’s holding on to her waist, pinning her down on the sofa, and his pelvis brushes her clit with every downward stroke.

“Bar-Barryyyyyy.” Iris throws her head back, eyes clenched tight as she comes with a low, drawn-out moan, her hips bucking frantically as she squeezes wetly around Barry.

He pulls out of her and starts to move the sofa cushions from the back of the chair. It gives them more room and Barry sits down until he’s half laid out, back against the arm of the chair and legs spread on either side of her, one bracing on the floor.

“Lay on your stomach,” he tells her, “and then push your legs under mine.”

She does as he says, still a little sluggish from her unexpected orgasm. This move puts her ass in the air, and Barry grabs at her hips to bring her back to him. She looks back as he’s lining himself up with her again, and then he’s bringing her down on him, opening her up for him again. They both moan at the contact this time, Iris still sensitive from moments before. But he seems even harder now, even deeper when Iris leans forward to grab onto the other end of the couch. He guides her for a stroke, two, three, until she catches onto his rhythm, and begins to fuck herself back on him. He’s so deep she figures she could feel him hitting the bottom of his stomach if she focused hard enough. She bounces on him, keeping up his slow pace, and he gives her a hard squeeze around the waist for her efforts.

“That’s it, Iris,” he murmurs. “Ride me slow just like that.”

She’s always liked dirty talk; there’s something fully stimulating about a man making it known that he’s enjoying being with you. But this, this is different, and Iris can barely stand how much she’s turned on by him talking to her like this.

“You feel so good, Barry,” she tells him.

“Yeah?” He juts up into her, faltering a rhythm, making her fall even deeper into the sofa, making him fall even deeper into her. “Tell me what it feels like.”

She licks her lips, swallows. She’s never…

“It’s just me and you,” he says, sensing her hesitation. He stills her hips and straightens his torso, bringing her up as much as she can. He turns her head so that he can see her eyes. He moves away the hair that’s fallen into her face and gives her a quick peck on the mouth. “It’s just us, okay?”

She nods, and moves back into the comfortable position, back to grinding down on his dick, squeezing around his dick.

“Shit, Iris, that’s it.”

“You feel good,” she tells him again, firmly. “You’re so thick, so hard, I can’t even…” She falls forward again, and Barry gives her one hard slap down her ass cheek. “Barry!”

He soothes the sting with the palm of his hand, rubbing in small circles.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so wet in my life,” she confesses, softly, truthfully. And that must have been what Barry was waiting for. He takes over, holding her hips in a death grip and he pounds into her. The slap-slap of his skin on hers is loud, the squelch of her wet, profane. She can feel her belly tighten again, the tell-tale sign that her orgasm is imminent. Barry’s is too, she can tell. His movements are more erratic, slow and then fast and then slow again until reaches out and presses a thumb to her puckered hole peeking back at him. That’s the end for them both. Iris screams out, her back arching deeply, just as Barry stills and empties into the condom, his dick throbbing against her walls as he does. She falls face forward into the sofa, still sitting on Barry, trying to catch her breath. It’s only then that she notices the music still playing from the television—infinite love, yeah; i've been wrong before, but this time I am for sure; it's you; something you did made me feel it deep in my core—and she asks for Alexa to turn the television off.

That throws the room into stark silence, except for the sound of their heavy breathing. She doesn’t know how long they lie there, but Iris thinks she could be almost asleep when Barry shifts up and out of her. She knows that she’s likely gonna have to deep clean the sofa tomorrow.

“Iris,” Barry calls moments later, and she turns her head to the side to see him standing beside her, his soft sex sitting on his thigh. He must have thrown the condom away already.

“Hmmm.”

He chuckles. “Come on, baby, let’s get you cleaned up and we can go to sleep.”

She nods slowly, and sits up, letting him take her hand to lead her into the bathroom. She tries, though she can’t say how much she succeeds, at telling herself that this, that this is nothing.

And it's cool

Think that we're up to something

But it's on you, it's on you, it's on you

It's on you, it's on you, it's on you

It's on you, it's on you, it's on you

It's on you, 'cause I'm cool with nothing, yeah

'Cause even nothing is something

[glossydols]

protective | gd

summary: where grayson gets jealous over someone hitting on his girlfriend

warnings: slight fluff, some swearing

soft warm breathing tickled the back of my neck, causing me to slowly open my eyes with a yawn. a protective arm was wrapped around my bare waist while graysons face was resting into the back of me.

memories from last night clouded my mind as a smile spread across my face. grayson always knows how to treat me right and never fails to do so. ive been dating him for almost four years and can say i truly do love this man with all my heart.

"princess?" a groggy morning voice whispered from behind me. his voice sending butterflies to my stomach, damn the effect he has on me.

"mhm" i hummed, shifting around to face him. his arms were still wrapped around my waist as he pulled me closer to his bare body.

his chest giving me warmth as i cuddled into him.

i heard her chuckle lightly before kissing the top of my head gently. "how'd you sleep, angel?"

"good" i mumble with a slight smile on my face, "i'm definitely sore though."

"i bet" he chuckled, only making me blush but he couldn't see. "last night was amazing"

"agreed" i giggle, moving my head up to give him a grin. he returned the smile with a passionate kiss on the lips, neither of us caring about morning breath.

"wanna go out for breakfast? we can go to the bagel shop around the corner" he suggests pulling away, his thumbs running circles on my exposed hip from under the covers.

"that sounds like a great idea, gray"

-

grayson watched his beautiful girlfriend finish getting ready. she threw her hair into a messy bun after wiggling into one of his sweatshirts, which was far from a sweatshirt considering it went down to her knees.

"ready?" he asked and she hummed, grabbing her wornout vans and slipping them on. grayson took his girlfriends small hand in his, giving it a light kiss making her giggle at his goofy but loving action.

since they both bought an apartment together, they basically spent all their time together inside and out. going to the corner bagel shop was almost a daily thing, walking hand in hand together as they enjoyed the morning air.

they both entered the quite, local bakery ran by the old man who would greet them sweetly everyday. but noticed it was a young teenage boy this time, ticking grayson off by noticing the workers eyes basically undressing his girl.

"what can i get you on this fine morning?" he asked with a smirk, making y/n obviously uncomfortable but she hid it with a polite smile, "one blueberry bagel with a small hot chocolate please."

he nodded before typing it in, then looking up to look at grayson. "and you?"

"plain bagel with a black coffee" he coldly answered, his grip on y/n's hand tightening. she noticed and in an effort to calm him down, held his jaw and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

she didn't need to say anything, only look in his eyes to tell him it was 'okay and to calm down.'

"your total will be $6.95" he interrupted, quite annoyingly as his pitched voice rang. grayson reached for his wallet and quickly swiped his card, giving the guy a cold stare the whole time.

"enjoy" the words were obviously sarcastic as he gave us our food on a mini wooden tray, glancing at me and smirking. something i wasn't expecting was for him to air whisper a 'call me' while bringing his hand up in the shape of a phone.

i was about to say something but grayson beat me to it. "go sit down babe, k?" he said and i just nodded, letting him give me a kiss before walking off.

grayson turned back to the guy and what felt like a millisecond, leaned over and grabbed his collar, yanking him only inches away from his face.

"listen here bitchass, that's my girlfriend over there and you're making me uncomfortable. not only me but her too, and i don't like it when she's uncomfortable. so if i ever see you again here and you decided to hit on her, so help me i'll knock you out to where you'll wake up three months later. got it?" he threatened clenching his jaw around the material, his knuckles turning white.

"y-yes, g-got it" the scared teen nodded quickly, letting out a shaky breath once he was let go of.

grayson walked back and joined his girlfriend, sliding into the same side of the booth and giving her a kiss. "everything okay?" she whispered, her small hand on his thigh as he bounced it up and down.

"yeah" he mumbled, not wanting to look at her. he now felt embarrassed for acting like that but didn't regret it.

"bup" she giggled taking his jaw in her other hand, "im not upset."

"you arent?"

"no" she shook her hand with a chuckle, "it was kinda hot not gonna lie."

grayson couldn't help but smirk, leaning in the whisper in her ear, "oh really?"

"yeah, once we get home maybe i'll show you how hot it was." she whispered back seductively, graysons pants tightening as his little friend got excited.

"fuck this, let me fuck you instead" he impatiently grinned, standing up quickly and grabbing her hand. y/n had to quickly collect their food before getting rushed out by her horny boyfriend, a smile on her face at the events that were about to happen.

[allicekitty13]

Blinding Lights

@gatsby-holmes Happy holiday’s!! Tis I your secret Santa!! Hope the season is treating you well, please enjoy this holiday themed meet cute I have written for you <3

Read On Ao3

Read On FFN

When the moving truck pulled into the driveway of the house next door Jasper's stomach tensed. He'd been living in the dilapidated neighborhood for several years now. Save for Peter and his wife, who lived just down the street, there were no other residents. It was peaceful, quiet- just the way the man liked it. A family living right next door, though? Who knows what that would mean. Kids, pets, parties, all sorts of disruptions. No, Jasper liked things the way they were with just him and his dog Major. 

Fortunately, the first two months after the neighbors had moved in had been relatively quiet. He occasionally saw a man out in the backyard, and a small woman hopping into her car. Jasper never introduced himself or looked too closely into their daily comings and goings. The most interaction he'd had with any of them was an occasional polite wave when he was out walking Major.

Of course, nothing good ever lasted, and the problems began the day after Thanksgiving. What started small, as a brightly lit Christmas tree that shone in Jasper's eyes as he pulled into his driveway, quickly evolved into a bigger problem. By the first of December, the couple, or at least he assumed they were a couple, had decked the home in quite an impressive light show. Inflatables were scattered strategically throughout the front yard as well as the roof. Multicolored lights and garland were strung across the gutters, wrapped around the windows, and wrapped around the porch columns. Nutcracker statues nearly rivaling Jasper's impressive height stood at either side of the staircase leading up to the house, and finally, a gigantic wreath hung on the front door.

The holiday display was impressive; even Jasper, who adamantly hated Christmas, found the setup endearing, at least at first. At a certain point, it had gotten out of hand; the extensive collection of lights were too much for his curtains shining into his bedroom at night, rendering sleep extremely difficult. Not wanting to be one of those annoying neighbors who complained, he'd made an honest attempt to deal with it, even going so far as to borrow a sleeping mask from Charlotte up the street. 

But it only got worse; such an over the top display was bound to attract attention. By the fourth of December, the townsfolk had begun driving through the neighborhood at all hours of the night, stopping on Jasper's street stare in awe at what new elements had recently been added to his neighbor's lights display. By the seventh, it had caught the news's attention, and consequently, viewers from all over the area began to make the journey to his once quiet neighborhood. 

After a week of tossing and turning, he'd decided enough was enough and made his way over to the house with the intentions of politely but clearly asking these people to at least unplug the decorations after a reasonable hour. So on the next Saturday afternoon, he pulled on a jacket and crossed the grass divide between the two homes. He knocked on the door, careful to avoid the delicate wreath hanging from the door, and waited, mentally running through the carefully thought out speech he'd constructed that morning. 

When the door opened, he was momentarily confused as there didn't appear to be anyone standing there until he chanced a look down. The woman he'd seen on occasion in passing stood in the doorway looking up at him with wide, curious eyes that gave him pause. It was unexpected, to say the least, the way the words got caught in his throat or how his heart stalled in his chest. He'd planned this encounter out perfectly, yet here he stood blindsided, unable to get a word out. Meanwhile, the woman just stood there, patiently, with her head cocked to the side in question. 

"Can I help you, sir?" She finally broke the silence bringing Jasper crashing back to the reality of the situation. 

"Oh... I uh..." The words came stumbling out as he tried to concoct some explanation for his presence on the woman's porch, having decided he no longer felt like complaining. "I'm Jasper," The words came out more smoothly as he finally settled on an excuse. "I live next door and wanted to come by and introduce myself."

"Oh!" The woman seemed to relax, a bright, captivating smile spreading across her face that caused her eyes to light up more beautifully than any of the numerous lights adorning her home. "I'm Alice. Would you like to come inside? I was just taking a cocoa break; I'd love someone to chat with." 

He wanted to say no, to retreat home and devise a new plan for dealing with the lights but found himself nodding dumbly as he followed the woman into her home. The interior, he noted as she led him to the kitchen, was just as thoroughly decorated as the exterior. Lights anywhere they could feasibly be strung, an enormous tree covered in so many ornaments Jasper thought it may topple over if even one more was added. Holiday-themed knick-knacks were sat upon every surface and a collection of elaborately decorated gifts overflowed from beneath the tree. 

"You must really enjoy the holiday's," Jasper commented as he took the seat Alice indicated to at a round table only large enough to fit two chairs tucked away in the corner of the room. The corner of the woman's mouth raised in a slight smile as she pulled a Santa mug from the cupboard and placed it on the counter next to the snowman counterpart she'd already laid out for herself.

"Yes," She responded after a moment of contemplation, speaking with her back turned as she poured the dark chocolaty drink into the mugs. She placed the coffee pot she'd used to prepare the cocoa back into its place before continuing. "I love any reason to celebrate, but Christmas is my favorite." Finally turning around with two cups of hot chocolate, complete with marshmallows, sprinkles of nutmeg, and a cinnamon stick. "But Christmas is my absolute favorite."

Jasper gave the woman a moment to take her seat and slide one of the mugs over to him before responding. "Why is that if you don't mind me asking?"

"Well, despite being a self-proclaimed summer girl," She opened with a half-smile, chuckling lightly. "There's something almost magical about December. All of the different holidays coinciding in one month, people going out of their way to find the perfect gifts and grand gestures for the people they care about most. I like all the lights glittering against the snow, all of it, you know. It makes me feel like a little kid again, full of wonder like I can forget about all my grownup problems even if it's only for a month."

"I guess I've never looked at it that way," Jasper responded, taking a sip of his cocoa contemplating her words.

"I did notice your own decorations are a bit lacking; I assume you're not a big holiday person?"

"Not really my thing."

"Well, tell me about yourself then. What is your thing, Jasper?"

The conversation flowed freely from there, both parties chatting comfortably, getting to know the other over multiple cups of hot chocolate and an eventual plate of Christmas cookies. It wasn't until the door opened and the man Jasper had seen on occasion walked in the front door home from a day out that they realized just how much time had passed. Alice quickly introduced him as her brother Emmett, a relief he didn't quite understand washing over him at the information. The sky was now dark, and Jasper decided he had probably imposed on the woman quite long enough and bid Alice and her brother goodbye.

Realizing he hadn't brought up the lights' issue, he hopped into his truck still parked in the driveway and headed to Target for some blackout curtains. In a last-second spur of the moment decision, he also tossed a couple boxes of Christmas lights into the cart to hang up the next day. 

---

It wasn't an unusual occurrence for Jasper to get mail belonging to someone else. Occasionally Peter and Charlotte's Amazon orders would find themselves in his mailbox, just as often the absent-minded postal worker who tended to the neighborhood's delivery needs would end up gracing Jasper's sole neighbors with his packages. So he shouldn't have frozen in place upon discovering two letters addressed to Alice and Emmett Cullen when he opened the mailbox perched at the front of his yard. 

Usually, when this happened with Peter or Charlotte's mail, he would sigh and inform Major that their morning walk had been extended slightly as he crossed the street to make the short single block trek to correct the error. This time, however, he stood staring at the two thin red envelopes with neatly handwritten cursive addressing them to his new neighbors. 

However, it wasn't long before Major began to whine at the man's feet to indicate to his owner that the basset hound was ready for breakfast, promoting Jasper to finally look away from the mail, bundle it up with his own and bring his dog inside.

As Jasper measured out Major's morning meal, a thought crossed his mind. Those red envelopes currently sitting on the table next to the door in his entryway were more than likely holiday cards. That thought lead to yet another impulsive idea on Jasper's part. 

After feeding his beloved dog and making sure the canine had plenty of water, Jasper made his way back outside, this time hopping into his truck and made his way, so a small local gift shop that he knew from talking to his sister had an excellent selection of cards. 

A short drive, Jasper had arrived on the main street only a few blocks from his home. He parked in front of the small store and took a breath before entering the building before he could question what had gotten into him. Inside, the building was decorated for the holidays, and quite a few of the folks he knew from town were presently perusing the cramped aisles filled with knick-knacks of all themes and sizes. 

Keeping his eyes down, Jasper made his way to the back of the shop where an entire wall was dedicated to cards, over half of which at this time of year were holiday-themed. The number of options was overwhelming, causing the man to stand in contemplation, looking over the various designs as he tried to decipher just what was appropriate to purchase for the situation. There wasn't exactly a tab that read 'for your cute but strange new neighbor you've only talked to once but would very much like to get to know.' 

He was so caught up in the seemingly endless supply of Christmas cards that he didn't notice when a brunette of medium height snuck up on him with a "Hey Jasper." 

The man jumped slightly before turning his head to see Bella Swan smirking up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Need help?" She asked with an amused tone.

"What do you know about holiday cards?"

"Since when do you do anything for the holidays?" Bella's expression quickly morphed from amusement to utter shock. It was no secret that Jasper wasn't a holiday guy; he didn't decorate, didn't exchange gifts, and definitely didn't send out cards.

"I mean," The woman continued without skipping a beat, seemingly unphased by the blush slowly creeping up Jasper's cheeks or his deer in the headlights' expression. "Edythe told me you had lights up, but I guess I just assumed she was messing with me."

"I don't do the holidays, I just... put up some lights and want to send one card. That's it."

"Oookaay." The skeptical Bella drug the word out, still in disbelief. "So, who's the girl?"

"Who said there was a..."

"Don't even try Whitlock." She cut him off with a glare.

"Fine," The man sighed in defeat, allowing his shoulders to sag slightly; having learned long ago just how stubborn Isabella Swan could be, he didn't particularly want to enter into a losing argument. "It's my new neighbor."

"The one on the news with the lights display?"

"That would be the one."

"Huh, I figured you'd be ready to kill her not standing here fretting about overpriced gift cards." 

"What can I say, I'm full of surprises today. Got any thoughts on this? I'm kind of out of my element here."

Bella didn't hesitate, going directly for a card on one of the higher racks that she handed to him confidently. It was a dark parchment shade of brown with layers of colored cardboard forming a holiday tree. Flipping it open to the inside, the only text read 'Happy Holidays." 

"It's perfect," Jasper commented, looking up at Bella with a half-smile.

"I know; want me to ring you up?"

"Lead the way, Miss Swan." Jasper gestured to the counter near the middle of the shop with his free hand and a little bow.

If he also picked up a hand knitted snowman plush that would fit in nicely with the collection he'd seen on the back of Alice's couch on their way to the checkout area well, that was between himself and Bella, who rang up his selections with a knowing smirk. 

Jasper took the small paper sack that his friend had placed the items into and exited the store ignoring her comment of "Go get em' tiger," complemented by finger guns. The drive back home may have been short, but it was plenty of time for the man to begin questioning his decisions. 

Bella may have been encouraging, but what if this was weird? The card was one thing; he was relatively confident that giving a card to your neighbor was normal. At least, in the countless Hallmark movies, he'd endured with his sister, that seemed to be something people did. But the gift? Was that too much? In the end, the plush remained in the bag on his table when he gathered up the cards mistakenly left in his mailbox, now paired with the new envelope with Alice's name messily scrawled across the front. 

---

After the holiday cards incident, Jasper had only had a handful of encounters with his new neighbor, and yet he frequently struggled to stop himself from thinking about the odd yet charming woman. It didn't help that his home was beginning to fill up with reminders of Alice. From the now wrapped snowman plushie he'd still yet to give the woman, to the undecorated Christmas tree she'd somehow talked him into buying, to the plate of home-baked cookies sitting on his counter pushed back against the wall where Major wouldn't be able to reach. 

Today was the day he'd intended to decorate his tree with ornaments and lights purchased the previous day. Alice had shown up on his doorstep, an increasingly frequent occurrence, with the claim that her car wouldn't start and she needed to pick up some things from the gift shop on main street. Having long since come to terms with his strange inability to say no to the woman, Jasper had acquiesced and given her a ride. That trip had ended with his buying plenty of supplies to decorate the tree. After all, helping him shop had put a smile on Alice's face, and he might as well do something with that tree if it was going to take up space in his living room. 

He was carrying the box of new decorations from his kitchen where they'd been stored over the past few days while he was busy at work to his living room when he happened to glance out his window. Alice was standing in the middle of the street, hands on her hips biting her bottom lip with a look of determination on her face that Jasper, even in the short amount of time he'd known the woman had come to know, meant chaos as she stared intently at her front yard. 

He could have continued about his day and ignored whatever scheme she was up to this time. He honestly tried repeating to himself to stay out of it as he dropped the box on his couch. Yet, with a deep sigh, as he threw his hands in the air, he exited the house to join Alice in the street. 

"There's no snow." She spoke clearly and matter of factly without his prompting as soon as Jasper took his place beside her.

"Come again?"

"There. Is. No. Snow." She looked up at him with her eyebrows knitted together. "There is a week until Christmas, and there's no snow."

"Don't get much of the white stuff down here, ma'am."

"It's got to be perfect," She gestured to her elaborate lights display. "And it won't be perfect without snow."

Jasper didn't like the slight pang he felt in his chest at the dejected look that was beginning to settle across the woman's face. In the short time he'd known Alice, he'd come to realize she was a fixer. In her world, there were no problems, only solutions. Unfortunately, even Alice couldn't control the weather. He knew in that moment that he had to do the impossible. He had to somehow procure snow in Texas all because seeing Alice look so sad was quite possibly the worst sight he could fathom. 

He stood with her until she gave and returned inside before following suit to his own home. The tree could wait, he decided as he sat down at his laptop and got to researching. A few hours and one costly Amazon order of instant snow later, he had a plan.

His plan came into action three days later with the help of Peter and Emmett. The instant snow had been converted from a fine sandlike powder into a snowy substance that now covered not only the entirety of the front yard but was spread carefully over the house and abundant decorations creating a picture-perfect holiday scene. 

It had taken hours, the vast majority of Alice's eight-hour workday. But Jasper decided it was well worth it to see the delighted look of disbelief and wonder on Alice's face when she returned home. He definitely couldn't complain about the bone-crushing hug she gave him in thanks.

---

Christmas Eve found Jasper alone at home, settled into his favorite chair, having finally gotten off the phone with an apologetic Rosalie. His sister, the only family he had, called to wish him a Merry Christmas and to inform her brother that she would be unable to make it home for the holiday. 

"Well, buddy," Jasper looked down at Major, who lay dozing curled up at the man's feet. "Looks like it's just going to be the two of us this year." He'd only just turned on the T.V. and begun browsing Netflix for something to watch when a knock sounded at his front door.

Jasper exchanged a confused look with Major before rising from his chair to see who could possibly be visiting at such a late hour on Christmas Eve. To his delight, when he swung open the door, Alice was standing on his porch with a soft smile. 

"Hi, Jasper!" She exclaimed. "I saw your light on and thought you might be home."

"What can I do for you, Miss Alice?"

"Well, I'm sort of having a little party over at my place. Knowing you, I figured you probably didn't have any plans, and frankly, that's just not acceptable. So. You should come join the festivities."

"I appreciate that, Alice, but I planned on having a quiet evening at home."

"I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Of course you aren't, and I supposed you're not leaving that spot without me, are you."

"You catch on quick, Whitlock. Now hurry up." 

Shaking his head at just how ridiculous his life had become in only one short month, Jasper shot a quick glance toward his living room to ensure Major was okay. He followed Alice out of the house, grabbing the wrapped gift he'd purchased the woman from the table by the door as an afterthought. 

The house was filled with people having a wonderful time drinking cider, enjoying the numerous wonderful cookies Alice had prepared, and exchanging gifts with friends. He hadn't thought it possible, but the woman had somehow managed to cram even more decorations into her home since the last time he'd visited. Thanks to Alice's impeccable eye for design, what would have looked cluttered and tacky was majestic and beautiful. 

"So," Alice asked him, stopping under an archway that parted the living room from a hallway. "What do you have there?"

"Oh, I uh... I picked up a gift... for you." Jasper blushed awkwardly, stuttering over his words once faced with the reality of actually giving the plushie to the woman. "Is that weird? I'm sorry if that's weird."

"Jasper?"

"Yeah?"

"You're an idiot."

"I... what?" That had been the last thing he'd expected, but as he followed her gaze up to the ceiling above their heads, suddenly many things clicked into place upon seeing a small bunch of mistletoe tied together with a red ribbon hanging from the ceiling.

"I physically can not be any more obvious at this point. Now, are you going to kiss me and finally ask me out or not?"

When, after a month of dancing around his crush, Jasper's lips finally met Alice's, he decided that maybe, just maybe, Christmas wasn't all that bad.

[mxrcayong]

Hi!! Can I request a soulmate au with Winwin please 😊? You don’t have to write it if you don’t want to. Thank you so much, and I hope you’re having a wonderful day! 💜

hi love <3 i’d love to write it haha i hope you’re having a wonderful day as well <3 i didn’t know which soulmate au you’d like so i just kinda randomly chose it and i hope its okay  😊 if it’s not what you’d like, feel free to send a message or another request and i’ll re-do it  💜 💜 💜 + sorry for the wait!! i hope this does your request justice x

soulmate au prompt: Every so often you will get flashes of what your soulmate is seeing at the time, however your soulmate does not know when it happens AND You have a clock that counts down until you first talk to your soulmate.

Growing up, you’ve been told that there are only two ways that the “most important person in your whole life” will be ageing with you (until you meet them of course). The first one being the clock on your wrist; something that looks like a faded tattoo, counting down every minute. It’s considered a gift from the higher aboves when you turn the age you will meet your soulmate. The second one being your sight; every year on your birthday - even before gifted with the countdown, you get a glimpse of their day - temporarily seeing what they see. 

You’ve never been a fan of the idea of soulmates - it felt too simplistic. Someone else cannot simply complete you - right? They cannot complete you as much as people say they do, at least. It’s hard to believe someone completes you so much you get their vision temporarily or that your whole body counts down too meeting them. However, part of you only is questioning the whole idea of soulmates - this part fueled by the sight you see everyday. 

Out of everyone you knew, you got the countdown clock the latest. Your temporary visions were always the most out there or tame that you always believed them to be a dream. From seeing the adoring fans you see on stage to the empty practice room, those are the only minute visions you’ve been seeing for the last three years. 

You used to think you had no soulmate, until a few months ago on your last birthday. A faded black mark appeared on your wrist; but it was the highest number you’ve seen in your city. 

All your friends who had countdowns on their wrists seemed to meet their soulmate within a month or two; bumping into them on the street or finally saying ‘hello’ after months of walking past them on the crowded roads, just two people living through life - unaware of their importance to each other. 

“Babe,” Your co-worker Amelie chuckled as she turned away from the counter to talk to you, who was currently making another vanilla frap and caramel latte from the couple who just walked in. “You know, your time is running up. How many hours left until you meet them?” She had noticed how you went quiet after she talked about meeting her soulmate the other day.  

You refused to look at the clock that haunts your everyday. “I rather not check.” This isn’t only to avoid the painful reminder of the time you have to wait, but ever since your hatred for your own countdown existed - you started questioning if soulmate clocks and visions are beneficial. Isn’t part of dating and meeting people dating random people? 

You can’t lie and say that everyone in town waits for their soulmate. You, yourself, had dated a few people - knowing it wasn’t going to last, but hoping it would. But it didn’t feel right - it never felt like how her family described being in love. Your father always said being with your soulmate feels like you’re ‘completed’, like if you die right now - you’d be ‘satisfied’. A feeling of eternal bliss and satisfaction, her aunt said before clarifying the bliss and satisfaction comes from the reduced feeling of worries for the future. 

“You know, you’ll find them some day.” Amelie sighed, turning to make the next cup of coffee for the newest customer. “Like, you know they’re out there - look at your clock. That’d be a sudden zero or not there if they weren’t.” 

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It’s been over 9 months now since your last birthday and you’ve given up on your countdown. Endless waiting and constant checking has barely done you any good - so, three months ago, you’ve worn a series of bracelets over the cursed countdown. 

Despite your proclaimed hatred for this soulmate you’ve barely met; you can’t stop wondering what they’d be like, your dreams piecing along all the visions and facts you’ve known about him. You dreamed he had kind eyes and a loving heart, someone who’d go out of his way to love you. 

But then you’d always wake up alone. It’s not like your purpose surrounds them - but in this universe, where everyone seems to scream from the rooftops about the importance of loving your soulmate - you’re stuck. 

It doesn’t help the cafe you work at is called ‘red string cafe’. Your boss came from a certain province in China and therefore, his countdown clock was replaced with the concept of the red string of fate. He would close his eyes and see the string and where it leads. He knew he met the love of his life, and your other boss, when the string was only a meter along and led him to her. 

Additionally, ‘red string cafe’ was a nod to the fact so many couples have met in this busting coffee shop. There used to be a deal where if you had just met your soulmate in the coffee shop, then you get free coffee. But they started handing out free coffee to everyone at least once. So, now, they just have one full wall full of photos of the couples who have found their destiny in the cafe. 

You felt like that was just a way of the universe mocking you. 

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

It was a late day at the cafe. Part of you regretted offering to take up Amelie’s hours as she plans her wedding, but what are friends for? 

Ian - a coworker you’ve interacted with only five times before this evening - had fallen asleep on the counter. He was committed to his soulmate Carter for the last three years after meeting at this cafe. The day after meeting him, Ian signed up to work here - believing this place is a place of destiny. But it was obvious Ian didn’t think that anymore as his head rested on the cash register, waiting for any new customers to join the few night owls who are typing away at their laptops. 

You were cleaning the dishes - not wanting to wake Ian, especially as the two of you were talking absolute nonsense prior to him falling asleep. Talking about the newest TV show coming out to giving each of the customers present background stories in hushed whispers. 

Suddenly, a chime made Ian fall to the floor - a sign of a new customer...well, customers. You laughed at Ian’s predicament - quickly helping him up from his spot sprawled over the tiled floor. 

“Hello! Welcome to the red string cafe, where we hope you find your perfect match of coffee.” Ian said the usual greeting they say to customers that look new to the store, while you cringed as you start putting seven mugs closer to the coffee machine - preparing for their order. It was a small local cafe - so regulars are the biggest customer base. New people at the store have been hard to come by, especially due to the time of year of exam finals. “How can we help you today?” They quickly ordered; 2 iced coffees, 1 hot chocolate, 3 frappuccinos, and 1 americano. “Feel free to take a seat and we’ll bring the drinks to you.”

As soon as the boys took a seat at the booth in the far corner, Ian turned around and joined you in making the drinks. “I bet you they’re jetlagged and they’re...” Ian started thinking of a fun job, “international secret spies sent to the cafe to spy on the patrons as one person here has the secret to fixing the world.” 

You rolled your eyes, continuing to make one of the drinks. “I bet you they were sent from the future to come and tell a patron here of their destiny, because right now, they’re writing a proposal on how coffee can save the world.” 

“Nah, I like mine better.” Ian jokingly shrugged, putting down the drinks on the tray. “You bring it to them please, I think permanently injured my knee.” 

You, again, rolled your eyes and groaned. “You big baby.” 

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

Kind eyes. Loving heart. 

I guess your dreams have come true. 

A year since that encounter, you’ve moved homes and your whole life changed. 

The timid boy who ordered an iced coffee and accidentally bumped into you on his way to the bathroom, almost spilling the tray before he helped stabilise it, had been your soulmate. 

They were right. When you look into the eyes of your soulmate and when you’re together, any future preoccupations are gone. It feels like you’re completed; a puzzle that took years to finish, but finished nevertheless. 

The visions from your birthday were right; you saw the thousands of adoring fans cheer in front of your soulmate, begging for an encore after encore after encore. But the night was over and they’re out of songs. 

As soon as the group ran backstage, Winwin tackled you into a hug - spinning you around. You ignored the feeling of sweat that accumulated from the performance; a feeling of warmth and love spread from the inside of your body.  

“Let’s go home.” He smiled, whispering in your ear, still hugging you tightly. It was the last day of the WayV tour and they finished back where they started; home. “I cannot wait to spend all night with you.” He smiled sweetly. 

“Over iced coffee?” You teased, pinching his cheek. 

“I’ll make it this time.” He smiled.

Yes, the wait was long and tedious. Yes, the wait made you feel as if you never had a soulmate to begin with. 

But it was so worth it. Because you’ve never felt as loved and at home and at peace as you did with Sicheng. 

[keelywolfe]

FIC: A Pressing Engagement ch1 (Not baon AU)

Summary: Labeling things can be difficult, for everyone involved

Notes: Oh, I don't know, this sort of popped into my brain today and sometimes, I like to see the maybes and might haves.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Fluff and Angst, Dating, Developing Relationship, Humor

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Read it on AO3

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Read it here!

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It wasn’t a date, really. More like a standing lunch appointment where they met up wherever the local food trucks were congregating that day. Edge was a fussy bitch when it came to food, but what kind of monster (heh) would turn down fresh seafood po’ boys with truffle Parmesan fries? Not one that Stretch wanted to hang out with, for sure.

The trucks were always busy, Humans and Monsters lining up for tasty treats. Using Edge’s strategy of divide and conquer, they queued in separate lines, gathering up a collection of paper trays lined with greasy waxed paper and holding heavenly balls of deep-fried goodness, along with the less heavenly but still delicious vegan junk that Edge always wanted, under the theory that unhealthy plus good for you would sort of cancel each other out into balanced nutrition.

Look, if it got him food, Stretch was willing to bend science a little.

The park was crowded, any tables were already claimed, if not by people than by their possessions. By the time Stretch was juggling their po’ boys and fries, Edge was through the vegan line and sitting under a tree in the grass, their Buddha bowls and moussaka artfully arranged around him. The pastoral serenity of the scene contrasted in interesting ways to the leather-clad skeleton in the middle of it all and if Stretch didn’t know that Edge would object, loudly and strenuously, he would’ve taken a picture. Called it modern art, skeleton on a theme of lunch.

“hope you grabbed napkins,” Stretch said cheerfully, plopping down in the grass to lay out his own spread.

“I did not. I brought my own,” Edge said, because of course he did, every week. Linen napkins that they both spread over their laps as they shared out the goods and dug in. Strange how growing up in murder world made a guy into a terminal recycler, but Edge was a guy who understood living under strict limitations.

The first bite of his po’ boy made Stretch groan aloud, greedily chewing fried blobs of briny shrimp and oysters couched in a bed of crisp lettuce and tomato. Waterfall aside, there wasn’t much seafood in the Underground and Stretch got a serious appreciation for it once they hit the Aboveground. Edge liked surfing on the ocean more than eating what was swimming in it and even he was eating appreciatively.

It was all good, tasty food, sunny day, perfectly awesome even if it wasn’t actually a date, and if it ended with them heading back to one of their places for some rough and rowdy bootknockin’, eh, well, that was kinda how Stretch liked it. They didn’t need it to be an official date, seriously, that was for people who just started going out, not for guys who’d been together for a few years. Once you’d shared a toothbrush, you didn’t need that kind of shit, right, and Stretch was pretty sure Edge’d forgiven him for that, he’d only done it the once and only because he couldn’t get the taste of garlic off his teeth. That was the last time he tried aioli on their not-dates.

Dessert was rice pudding with fresh mango and around a spoonful of creamy deliciousness Stretch mumbled out, “so, how about undyne and alphys finally tying the knot, huh?”

“Ridiculous,” Edge scoffed.

“right? i always figured them for getting married two weeks after their first date, took ‘em long enough—” Stretch trailed off as Edge scoffed again, louder and with some dangerous spoon waving to go with it.

“Marriage is a ridiculous institution,” Edge said irritably. “If you need to be married in order to feel as though you’re committed to one another, then the relationship is already doomed to failure. But then, most supposedly committed relationships are.” He took a fierce bite of his pudding, teeth closing dangerously around the poor, abused spoon. “That’s why I prefer what we have. No ties, no strings, you live in your apartment and I share my house with my brother. It works for both of us and we don’t need any absurd social constructs to determine what we are for each other.”

It took a minute for Stretch to realize Edge was looking at him expectantly, “yeah,” he said belatedly, rolling his shoulders laconically before leaning against the rough trunk of the tree shading them, “yeah, no strings, no ties, free as birds, tweet tweet.”

That earned him a chuckle, “Tweet tweet?”

“you prefer caw caw?” Stretch teased and his voice was normal, easy. Good. “grackle? i’d give you a kookaburra cackle but last time i tried it i couldn’t talk for two days.”

“Better not,” Edge’s voice was anything but normal, low and smoky, inviting the sorts of things that usually stirred up plenty of different emotions in Stretch’s rib cage, all the way down to his pelvis, and wasn’t it a damn shame his soul was all full up right now. Edge went on, as thick and sweet as the honey Stretch tended to crave. “you’ll want to save your voice for something better.”

“yeah, about that,” Stretch poked at his empty pudding cup, his spoon rattling, “actually, i think i’m gonna head home.”

Edge frowned. Rightfully so, Stretch didn’t usually turn down sex, it was a better dessert than any at the trucks, even the lava chocolate cakes that always sold out. “Are you all right?”

“just a little tired,” Stretch shrugged. “think i’ll turn in early.” He didn’t mention low HP and neither did Edge, who only nodded.

“Then let me drop you off,” Edge started gathering up their trash, separating it out and bagging it up to dump in his home recycling. “You’ll be on the bus for an hour.”

There wasn’t a good reason for Stretch to refuse, so he didn’t. He sat on the passenger side and closed his sockets, let the motion of the car and the shitty crooner music that Edge listened to lull him into a near-sleep. The ride was too short for him to zonk out entirely, but he was still drowsy when Edge nudged him, let him steal a brief, easy kiss before he slid out the door into the parking lot of his apartment building.

Stretch waved as Edge drove away, then bypassed the front door entirely and instead took a shortcut upstairs. Not inside his apartment, but to the fire escape that everyone in the building used instead as a sort of rattling balcony. There was a ratty deckchair in the corner, shoved in tight to keep from impeding the steps, and that was where Stretch sat as he dug out his cigarettes.

He was halfway through the first, basking in the nicotine rush, when he heard the window opening above him then boots on metal steps. He sank deeper into the creaky chair, bracing himself.

“Papy!” Blue called happily as he descended the stairs. His apartment was directly above Stretch’s, their version of a compromise when Stretch gently told his bro that he wanted his own place. The Fell brothers could live together if they wanted and did, and Stretch didn’t judge them for it. But Stretch had let his life revolve around his brother for a long damn time and once they were on the surface, facing the sunshine and an entire change of life, Stretch decided he wanted that change to go a little further and told Blue with as much blunt kindness as he could that he wanted his own place.

Blue got over it and in Stretch’s opinion, their relationship was better for having a little necessary space. Now his little bro leaned over the last metal rail, his starry eye lights bright as he beamed at Stretch and asked, "Well? How did it go??”

Stretch looked away, blowing out a long stream of silent smoke.

That eagerness softened, wilted. “Ah. It went like that.”

“yeah,” Stretch stubbed out his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray tucked underneath his chair, lit another. “guess it’s a good thing i dipped a toe into the river first, bringing up undyne and al’s wedding. didn’t know it was the rubicon i was trying to cross.”

Better than bringing out that little velvet box still tucked away in his hoodie pocket, it seemed. Not like he’d been planning a big production or anything, fuck no, Edge would’ve hated that, already hated it when Humans gave them side-eyes and stares. Nah, the plan was to bring it up casual-like over dessert and now he was pretty fucking glad he hadn’t. The ache in his chest was one he’d get over, give him a few days and a few smokes and he’d be right as rain, left as lightning, all that shit. Having to deal with that hurt on top of Edge turning him down, (rudely, coldly, highly possible, gently, awkwardly, so much worse) wasn’t something he wanted to give a try.

Blue came down the rest of the stairs at a more sedate pace, wrapping both arms around Stretch into a painfully tight hug, “I’m so sorry, brother.”

“eh, probably just as well,” Stretch tossed his second butt into the ashtray and resisted the urge to light another. He’d smoke his way through the pack once Blue went back upstairs, no reason for both of them to be miserable. “he’s working his way up at the embassy, he doesn’t need a lazy shit like me holding him back.”

He could feel Blue struggling not to argue and damn well appreciated it. He wanted to bask in his pain for right now, fucking savor it, his own soul served up as another casualty of the food trucks. Save the rah rah cheerleading for when he was more equipped to hear it.

“guess i better find out if the jewelry shop take returns or something,” Stretch sighed, “having a wedding ring laying around the house feels a lot like having a loaded gun, you don’t want anyone to find it unexpectedly.”

He fumbled for the little box, absently thinking of what would be a good day to head in to the shop, he was pretty sure he still had the receipt and—

In his hoodie pocket was his lighter, his smokes, a little baggie of dog treats, a handful of change since Stretch was physically incapable of walking past a vending machine, something his collection of small toys and weird condoms would attest to. No black velvet box that would never be opened in offering, showing off a simple pair of bands that he’d spent an hour agonizing over with an exceptionally patient salesperson, cause hell, they’d been not-dating for years now, maybe it was time to toss a label on all this. Except it wasn’t and neither was that little box.

“it’s not here.” No box. No rings, what the fuck. Horrified realization hit with the force of a two-ton slap. “it must’ve fallen out!”

“Oh, dear,” Blue tutted, “if it was at the park, someone likely took it.”

“i’d rather they did than him find it! edge gave me a ride home!” Stretch hissed. Panic was tight in his chest, fuck, fuck, “what if it’s in his car? i gotta get it back, i gotta!"

"Brother, calm down,” Blue tried, unconvincingly, “it might not even be in his car.”

“i have to check!” Stretch moaned. He couldn’t let Edge find it first, fuck, somehow he’d stepped out of the path of a speeding car straight into an oncoming semi-truck. “i can't let him find it! fuck!” He latched onto his brother’s shoulders, clutching desperately, “bro, you gotta help me!”

Blue still looked pretty doubtful but this was his brother, his little bro, and for years it’d only been the two of them there for each other, years and tears and love, was there anything they wouldn’t do for each other, even participate in an impromptu jewelry heist?

So it wasn’t a surprise when Blue nodded, finally, sighing out, “All right, brother, what did you have in mind?”

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Read Chapter 2