#and the best part is that it honestly seems like it is mutual. maybe i am wrong However when I Do talk to ppl they say

[marimbles]

i miss carpisuns sometimes </3

[tobintwo]

haven’t used this blog in a WHILLEEE goddamn. but hiii um anyways im lovesick <3 /pos I think but oh my god. i cant stop thinking about this FUCKING GUY !!!!!!!! im hbbchdhdhdbhccbjjvkvjbxb. 🥰

[wildwestdean]

impetus

summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 9.4k+

warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes

“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park. 

You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you. 

“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait. 

“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.” 

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach. 

“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?” 

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.” 

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together. 

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like. 

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.” 

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.” 

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets. 

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be. 

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo. 

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans. 

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun. 

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.” 

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.” 

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building. 

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock. 

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?” 

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.” 

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold. 

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you. 

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?” 

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.” 

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.” 

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him. 

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance. 

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs. 

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker. 

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed. 

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs. 

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall. 

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way. 

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles. 

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you. 

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere. 

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!” 

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her. 

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun. 

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!” 

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision. 

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you. 

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns. 

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!” 

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her. 

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.” 

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent. 

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on. 

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.” 

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up. 

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood. 

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him. 

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.” 

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down. 

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand. 

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?” 

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.” 

“What?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?” 

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.” 

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?” 

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently. 

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket. 

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress. 

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks. 

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you. 

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat. 

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously. 

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?” 

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.  

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink. 

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker. 

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand. 

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall. 

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say. 

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?” 

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion. 

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.” 

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.” 

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink. 

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam. 

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother. 

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically. 

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer. 

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean. 

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away. 

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on. 

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table. 

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little. 

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.” 

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth. 

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you. 

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter. 

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar. 

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly. 

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away. 

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you. 

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head. 

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice. 

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded. 

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?” 

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car. 

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you. 

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats. 

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?” 

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?” 

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff. 

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.” 

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!” 

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.” 

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets. 

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.” 

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance. 

“What, why?” you asked in confusion. 

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.” 

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off. 

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned. 

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.” 

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy. 

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders. 

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done. 

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom. 

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand. 

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran. 

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you. 

He couldn’t save you. 

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart. 

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him. 

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.  

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind. 

“Dean.” 

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came. 

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above. 

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut. 

“God dammit, Dean!” 

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer. 

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt. 

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.” 

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice. 

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him. 

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out. 

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current. 

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.” 

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order. 

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone. 

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name. 

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere. 

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order. 

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink. 

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him. 

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake. 

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang. 

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.” 

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?” 

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle. 

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?” 

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.” 

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. 

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice. 

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not. 

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.   

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself. 

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration. 

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.” 

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation. 

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.” 

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?” 

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!” 

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.” 

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed. 

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief. 

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?” 

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!” 

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.” 

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?” 

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!” 

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?” 

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.” 

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!” 

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?” 

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?” 

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff. 

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-” 

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?” 

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!” 

“Right,” Sam said sceptically.  “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised. 

“What?” 

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!” 

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared. 

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively. 

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.” 

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.” 

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued. 

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.” 

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on. 

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin. 

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction. 

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen. 

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully. 

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious. 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge. 

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen. 

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway. 

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly. 

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child. 

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.  

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do. 

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything. 

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.” 

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!” 

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him. 

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion. 

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife. 

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?” 

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?” 

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes. 

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily. 

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” 

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call. 

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more. 

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered.  So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do. 

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.” 

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late. 

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.” 

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?” 

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.” 

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.” 

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation. 

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.” 

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.” 

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner. 

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water. 

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water. 

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself. 

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding. 

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant. 

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.” 

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him. 

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.” 

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered. 

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.” 

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you. 

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly. 

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.” 

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?” 

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again. 

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.” 

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.” 

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him. 

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.” 

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?” 

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.” 

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.” 

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door. 

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out. 

“It’s not gonna kill me!” 

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?” 

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?” 

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.” 

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign. 

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.” 

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!” 

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.” 

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.” 

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.” 

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.” 

“Tell you what?” 

“You know what,” you scolded. 

“This is so fucking ridiculous.” 

“Tell me anyway.” 

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly. 

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.” 

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him. 

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.” 

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head. 

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.” 

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed. 

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully. 

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.” 

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.” 

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.” 

“I do,” you agreed quietly. 

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.” 

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?” 

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.” 

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly. 

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].” 

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly. 

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle. 

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently. 

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.” 

“Right,” you agreed. 

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly. 

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.” 

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously. 

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.” 

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off. 

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.” 

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say. 

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.” 

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.” 

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while. 

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.” 

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build. 

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.” 

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.” 

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.” 

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question. 

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat. 

“Okay,” he said with a huff. 

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly. 

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you. 

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened. 

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked. 

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.” 

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more. 

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?” 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.” 

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly. 

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?” 

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.” 

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?” 

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?” 

“Always,” you said honestly. 

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed. 

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. 

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly. 

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more. 

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things. 

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest. 

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares. 

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest. 

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

tagging: @roseblue373

let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3| PART 4

Behind Closed Doors 4

Your frustration over his broken promise melts away as soon as he calls, and you find yourself unexpectedly drawn to his voice, more than you anticipated.

Warnings: (18+, MDNI) Phone sex, mutual (and guided) masturbation, dirty talk ~4.7k words

A/n: this is just me wishing he was on quinn😔 anyway enjoy part 4, this mini series is not dead (i don’t even know how long it will be but let’s just celebrate that I’m finally updating)

All men do is lie, you thought as you flopped onto your bed.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t entirely his fault—but you weren’t in the mood to be reasonable. You remembered that car ride vividly. He had promised you more time together, a moment to finally be alone. Instead, what did you get? A new case, then another, and amidst all the chaos and dodging bullets (literally and metaphorically), you two somehow managed to drift apart.

The past few weeks had been the busiest since you started working at the BAU, and that was saying a lot, considering there was never really a moment of peace when you worked for the government. But this time was different, it seemed even more chaotic than usual. Every time you thought of bringing up the conversation with him—or maybe sneak in a little make-out session—something urgent would come up. 

There was never the right time, or the right moment. It felt as if the universe had other plans for you, and none of them involved the two of you getting a moment alone. And before you knew it, you were caught in this maddening cycle of missed opportunities, and the worst thing was, you were sexually frustrated.

This time, you had no one else to blame but him. Ever since he came into the picture, your carefully maintained self-control had started to slip, and now, despite your best efforts, you couldn’t ignore the growing need between your legs. It was aching, throbbing, and even the thought of him was making you hot and restless.

How did he manage to do that? He wasn’t even trying. There was nothing overtly seductive in the way he moved or spoke, and yet every glance, every accidental touch, seemed to affect you. Spencer. Just his name made your breath hitch, your body betraying you. You weren’t proud to admit this, but the mere thought of his fingers brushing your skin had you feeling that first rush of arousal slipping into your panties.

You huffed, considering digging out your pink silicone toy hidden somewhere in your drawer. And while you were contemplating this, knowing it had been a while since you last used it because nothing could compare to the feeling of his touch now, your phone on the bedside table rang.

Maybe the universe was really testing you, because his name flashed across the screen and it took a lot of self-control for you not to pick up on the first ring and demand him to fuck you right there and then, which sounded too crass when you weren’t in the middle of straddling his lap like the last time. So instead, you decided to wait until the sixth ring before you answered with a curt, “Hey.”

There was a pause, then a sigh. “You’re mad at me.”

Could he tell? Of course, he could. He always had an uncanny ability to read you, even over the phone. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”

“I can almost see you rolling your eyes.”

“I never roll my eyes,” you shot back.

“You rolled your eyes last week when Luke tried to tell us that his dog could sniff out bodies better than our trained ones.”

You suppressed a smile, surprised that he even noticed you giving Luke a once-over at that particular moment. “That was because his dog chases its tail more than it chases leads.”

"And I'm not worthy of an eye roll?"

“Honestly, you deserve more than an eye roll,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

"So you are mad,” he stated, growing quiet for a while. “I’m sorry.”

And now you felt bad. You ran a hand through your hair, trying to clear your thoughts. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but it doesn’t make me feel any less better.”

You felt a pang of guilt as you stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t exactly fair to blame him. Serial killers, unfortunately, didn’t come with a schedule, and now Spencer was already on his leave. You recalled the excitement in his voice when he told you about the seminars Emily had arranged for him to teach. He had spoken with an enthusiasm you hadn’t heard in a long time, his eyes practically lighting up every time he mentioned it.

How could you be upset about that?

"I'm not... mad.”

There was a slight teasing note in his voice as he replied, "Just annoyed then?"

You held back a smile. "Maybe a little."

“Anything I can do to help with that?” His voice softened through the phone. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

Your thoughts immediately went to the sticky situation between your legs, and you felt a flush of embarrassment. Technically, he could help with that. But could you say that? Should you? 

"I don’t know, depends on what you have in mind,” you replied, trying to steer your mind away from the direction it was heading. There was a pause, a silence that hung in the air as he carefully considered his next words.

"I could… start by telling you how much I miss you?”

Now that, you didn’t expect. Your heart fluttered wildly in your chest. Spencer had never really acknowledged his feelings with words when his actions spoke volumes, but hearing him say it out loud made the emotions between you feel undeniably real. It was as if his words shattered whatever platonic friendship the two of you had built over the past years.

Although you knew your friendship had fundamentally changed the moment he had you pinned on the desk that fine afternoon, it didn’t stop you from questioning about where you truly stood.

"You miss the idea of me," you corrected him, unable to resist yourself.

“You know that’s not true,” he replied gently.

“Do I?”

“Yes, you know me better than that,” he insisted. “You’re a great profiler, you can tell if I’m not being honest.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, despite trying to stay mad at him. "You hate being profiled.”

"That was before I realized how useful your skills are in deciphering my feelings.”

“You know I’d rather you tell me how you feel.”

“I did, I miss you, and you chose not to believe me.”

Your cheeks actually ached from smiling too much. You couldn’t help but feel a warm, tingling sensation spread through you. “Fine,” you sighed, finally giving in. “I believe you.”

“And?”

You rolled onto your side. “And what?”

“Do you not miss my absence at work?”

“Well…”

“Well?” He prompted.

Now how could you tell him you missed more than just his presence? How could you admit that you missed the way he made you feel, the way his breath felt hot against your skin, without sounding obvious or too needy? Because you missed everything about him. His hands, his lips, his tongue—oh dear god, his tongue.

Spencer suddenly called out your name, and you forced yourself to focus, feeling your heartbeat quicken as you cleared your throat.

“Yes, I—I miss you,” you finally admitted.

There was a pause, then his voice came through, lighter, teasing. “Why do you sound like that?”

“…like what?”

“Like you’re out of breath.”

You gripped the sheets tightly, the fabric bunching under your fingers. How could you even begin to explain this to him now that he was onto you? You felt like you were on the verge of a full-blown emotional meltdown. God, if he knew how many times you’d replayed every kiss, every touch, in your mind, he’d never let you live it down.

It was almost laughable, really. Here you were, trying to keep it together, and failing miserably. “It’s just… I really, really miss you.”

“You really miss me? Are you trying to say something?”

You hesitated, your mind scrambling for the right words without revealing too much. “No…?”

“Mhm,” he replied, clearly unconvinced. “You’re not telling me everything.”

You gripped the phone tighter. “I’m just saying... It's hard without you here. You know, in every way.”

“In every way?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling both embarrassed and mortified. “I just... I miss how you make me feel. Physically.”

“Physically?” he pressed. “Can you elaborate?”

“I’m... you know, I’ve been... missing certain things. Certain... activities.”

“Certain activities,” he repeated your words once again. It was then that you realized he was teasing you, clearly enjoying your discomfort a little too much. “You mean like... talking?”

“No. More like... the other stuff we do when we’re alone.”

"I don't understand."

At that point, your embarrassment was gnawing at you. You wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. “God, Spencer, don’t make me say it,” you groaned, burying your face in your pillow.

“Come on, I need a little more than that.” He sounded both amused and curious. “I’m just making sure I understand you right.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you muttered into the pillow, your voice muffled but still clear enough for him to hear.

“Actually, I don’t think I do. You could be missing so many things, you have to help me out here.”

You turned your head to the side, exasperation coloring your tone. “Spencer…”

"Yes?" he responded innocently.

"You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

"I find precise communication to be very important.”

You let out a groan, feeling the last of your restraint crumble. “Alright! Fine!” you snapped. “I’m horny, okay? And it’s all your fault!”

His laughter rang through the phone, and you could almost see the grin spreading across his face. “My fault?"

"Yes! I feel like a deprived, horny teenager here, and I just…”

You trailed off, hardly believing you had actually said that out loud. The realization hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you wished you could take it back. There was a pause that seemed to stretch on forever and you wondered if you had gone too far.

He finally broke the silence, breathing out your name in a way that made your skin tingle. "You could've told me from the start."

You could, but you’d rather not.

"I didn't want to sound desperate."

"You can be desperate with me,” he said softly. “Just say the word and I’ll give you anything you want.”

If there was one thing Spencer was good at, it was getting under your skin. He really shouldn’t be saying those words, not now, not when it was making you crave him even more. You swallowed, feeling a tightness in your chest, a knot in your stomach. The part of you that always played it safe wanted to retract, to laugh it off as a joke. But then there was that other part, the part that craved his attention, the part that was tired of holding back.

“Tell me, what do you want now?”

You took a deep breath and laid on your back, the words catching in your throat. You felt your pulse quicken.

“I want… you.”

“Tell me how you want me.”

Your fingers trailed over the sheets, your touch light as you imagined it was him beneath your fingertips. “Spencer…”

“Come on,” he pressed. “Tell me.”

You paused, your heart pounding in your chest. You could almost imagine him right in front of you, staring at you with those beautiful brown eyes that always managed to make you melt, coaxing words from you that you barely dared to think, let alone speak.

Just say it. He's waiting. He wants to hear it.

Your hand began to move.

“I… I want your hands on me.”

“Where do you want my hands?”

“Everywhere,” you whispered, your fingers grazing your body as if they were his. You closed your eyes.

“Everywhere?”

You found yourself nodding even though he couldn’t see you.

“On my hips…”

Your hand danced across your hips.

“My stomach…”

Your palm slipped under your shirt, moving slowly up your abdomen, feeling the warmth of your own touch and wishing it was his.

“Between my thighs…”

You paused at the hem of your panties, the only barrier beneath your shirt, hesitating as a flush of warmth spread through you. The line was silent for a moment, save for the sound of his breathing—a soft, heavy rhythm that matched the pounding of your own heart.

“Where else do you want me?”

Your fingers dipped inside the fabric. “I want you lower…”

“Tell me exactly where.”

“Where I’m most sensitive,” you confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them.  Your thighs instinctively squeezed together, hips rolling gently as your free hand began to drift south. “Spencer… please…”

“Are you touching yourself?”

“I…”

“Are you?”

“No…”

“Do you want to touch yourself?”

You licked your lips, your breath coming faster. “Maybe.”

“Then do it, no one’s stopping you.”

You hesitated, the reality of the situation sinking in. You couldn’t believe this was happening, that you were having this conversation with him. "This feels so naughty.”

"Naughty can be nice, though, right?" he assured you. "Don't think about it too much. It’s just you and me.”

There really was something about his voice, the way it effortlessly wrapped around you—smooth, coaxing, almost hypnotic. Despite the hesitation that tugged at your mind, your hand began to move lower, and your legs parting involuntarily. A soft gasp escaped your lips when your hand flew right to your pussy, fingers quickly tracing the length of your folds. You were already wet, and you began to spread your arousal towards your clit.

“Spencer…” you whined, feeling the sudden rush of sensations.

“Keep going,” he urged. “Tell me what you feel.”

You closed your eyes. “It feels… good…”

“Describe it to me.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to find the words through the haze of pleasure. “It’s warm and wet… and…”

And you wished he was the one touching you.

You let your mind drift to your fantasy. You imagined it was his fingers circling your clit. You imagined his lips against yours, the way they would move together. You imagined him whispering these words right in front of you, his eyes locked on yours as you writhed beneath him. The fantasy felt so vivid that for a moment, you could almost feel his weight pressing down on you, his presence enveloping you completely.

Your imagination urged you to move faster, but you felt limited by the fabric in the way. You called out his name. “Can I… can I take my, um, underwear off?”

You could almost hear the smile in his voice as he replied, “Of course you can.”

You put your phone down, and with trembling fingers, you slid the fabric down your legs. You discarded them quickly and turned the call to speaker before you settled back on the bed. Your hand returned to your body, fingers brushing over your sensitive skin. You parted your legs even wider, and as your fingers found their rhythm, a moan escaped you.

“Better?”

You sighed in relief as you continued to rub your clit. “So much better.”

“Keep it slow, okay? We don’t want to rush.”

His voice was low and soothing, and you couldn’t believe how just by his voice he had gotten you so worked up.

“Now press a little harder.” You complied, applying a bit more pressure on your clit. "Right there. Do you feel that?"

"Yes," you gasped, your back slightly arching off the bed.

“I wish I could see you right now," he murmured. “I'd kiss you where you're touching.”

You let your imagination take over. You pictured him with his head right between your thighs, his eyes locked on yours with those intense, pretty eyes. You imagined his mouth moving over your clit, sucking gently while his fingers explored between your folds. The thought was so vivid, so real, that you could almost feel his warm breath against your skin.

The mental image of him looking up at you was almost too much to bear. “Spencer…”

"Keep going. Are your fingers wet?" You could simply moan back a reply, not trusting your own voice. “Now slowly slide in one. Can you do that for me?”

You did as he said, sliding a finger into your wetness. You could feel how tight you were, the slick warmth of your arousal enveloping your skin. You looked down between your legs and watched as you pleased yourself. It wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar sight. You had done this countless times before, but never with the voice of a man guiding you, especially Spencer—the last person you’d imagine doing this with.

Yet look at how much effect he had on you.

"You're quiet," his voice suddenly came through. "Are you still with me?"

"Yes," you managed to whisper. "It's just... a lot."

"In a good way, I hope?"

“Very good,” you assured him.

You could practically picture the corner of his lips twitching into a proud smile. “Good,” he recited. “Now try adding another finger.”

You couldn't help a moan escaping your lips as you pushed in your middle finger, the sound louder than you intended.

"How does that feel?"

"Full," you breathed out, adjusting to the sensation.

“Yeah? I bet you’re so tight.”

You were, awfully so. Your walls clenched around your fingers, almost swallowing them as you started to move them in a steady rhythm. The pleasure built in your lower stomach, a warm, coiling tension that made you desperate for more. You needed his voice, you craved his guidance, even from afar.

“Spence…” you whined. “Keep talking, please.”

“You want me to describe how I’d touch you if I were there?”

You moaned in response, the sound escaping your lips involuntarily, urging him to continue.

“If I were there,” he began, his voice low, “I’d start by kissing you slowly.”

You could almost feel it, his lips on yours, his tongue probing inside your mouth.

“I’d move lower,” he continued. “Kiss your neck, your collarbone… while my fingers would move along your hips, your thighs, getting closer and closer to where you need me most.”

You whimpered, your fingers moving faster as you followed his vivid description, imagining his touch guiding you.

“I’d tease you, brush my fingers right at your entrance,” he whispered. “Then, I’d slip them inside you, just like you’re doing now.”

Your breaths came in short gasps.

“I’d spread your legs wide,” he continued again, and you heard a faint rustling noise in the background. “I’d move my fingers in… and… out...”

Your legs fell further apart.

“I’d curl my fingers the same way I did that day,” he went on. “Do you remember?”

How could you not? It never truly left your mind. You could picture that day clearly, the feeling of his fingers and mouth working on your sensitive spot seemed to linger in your memory.

“I’d do the same thing that you like,” he proceeded, and you focused on his voice. “I’d lean in close… licking you… sucking you.”

You moaned loudly as the image of his mouth on your clit flashed through your mind. You could almost feel the way he would sloppily lap at you, drinking in every drop of your arousal with each eager flick of his tongue.

“Go faster for me,” he urged. “I-I want to hear how wet you are.”

You followed his words, and the slick sounds of your arousal filled the quiet around you as you imagined him there, his fingers replacing yours. You could hear more noise through the line, the subtle rustle of clothes moving, the faint sound of his breathing growing heavier before he let out a low grunt.

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he breathed out. “Now add another finger.”

Your eyes narrowed into a frown, trying to slip a third finger in but the stretch was too intense for you to continue. “I-I can’t.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed. “Just take it slow. Try to relax.”

You took a deep breath, trying to follow his instructions. You slowly eased in another finger, feeling the awkward stretch but the initial discomfort quickly faded into a deeper pleasure, and you moaned softly.

“Oh, fuck.”

“There you go,” he encouraged. “Feel that? Feel how full you are?”

You hummed a reply.

“That’s how I want you to feel when I’m finally inside you.”

A whine left your lips. In your head, you saw him, his body poised above yours, his cock sliding smoothly into you. You imagined the slick, rhythmic motion, the way each thrust would fill you, stretching you, overwhelming you. You cried out a filthy moan at the thought, unabashed and desperate, as you began to pump your fingers inside your cunt.

“Push deeper for me… I know you can take it.”

You gasped, pushing your fingers as deep as they could go. “I can’t… I need… oh…”

“I know, I know,” he whispered. “You need more. You need me inside you, don’t you?”

“Spencer, please…” you begged, your voice breaking into desperate, choked sobs.

“You want that? You want to feel me stretch you?”

“Yes, yes…” you managed to moan out, your movements became more desperate.

“God, you’d be so tight around me… I’d have your legs spread wide so I… I-I could see how perfect you’d take me.”

You could almost feel his hands on your hips, his body pressing against yours, filling you completely. Your fingers moved frantically, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you felt the tension building to an unbearable peak.

“You’d pull me closer, wouldn’t you? You’d ask for more, like you always do, and I’d give it to you,” he promised. “I’d give it to you so hard… s-so deep…”

And that was when you heard it—the unmistakable sound of wetness, like skin sliding over slick, damp skin. The sound was filthy, making your pulse race as you wondered what he might be doing on the other end of the line. Your voice trembled as you slowly asked him, “Spence, are you…?”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end before he let out a soft, almost sheepish laugh, as if you had caught him red-handed. “I… yeah,” he admitted, his voice breathless and strained. "Do you know how hard it is not to when listening to your voice?"

Your fingers subconsciously quickened at his confession, their movements becoming more urgent as you imagined him laying on his own bed, hand wrapped around his cock. You bit your lip to stifle your moans as you whispered, “Tell me what you’re doing.”

His breathing grew ragged, his words coming in clipped bursts. “I’m… I’m touching myself…”

You tried to focus on his voice, but the sound of his sloppy strokes began to echo louder. “Tell me more.”

“I’m… I’m rubbing… my fingers over the head,” he gasped, and you curled your fingers deeper, using your palm to grind against your clit. The way he sounded so lost in his pleasure, unable to hold back, had you imagining him stroking himself. You pictured yourself doing it for him, remembering how it felt that day when you had his cock in your hand—the weight, the warmth, the way he looked at you through intense eyes.

Your breathing grew heavier, louder, and his voice cracked with a strained moan as he whispered, “Can you lower your phone?”

You fumbled with the device, bringing it closer to where your fingers worked tirelessly between your legs. “Like this?”

“God, yes,” he groaned, the sound of his strokes growing faster and more urgent. “You sound so perfect.”

You let out a soft cry, your fingers thrusting in and out of your cunt frantically as you imagined him watching you, listening to every sound you made. The wet, slick noises filled the room, so intense and filthy. You looked down to see your juices spilling over your fingers, soaking the sheets beneath you. The sheer sound of it was enough to drive him crazy.

“I—f-faster, please,” he panted into the phone. “I need you to go faster.”

Your eyes widened for a moment as the desperate plea slipped from his lips. But you didn’t have the mental space to think about it. Your focus was solely on reaching your release as you ultimately sped up your pace. Your body began to tighten up, feeling so much pressure and pleasure building up every time your fingertips hit that deep spot inside you.

"Oh—fuck!” You exhaled sharply as the familiar sensation took over you. “I’m cumming I’m cumming I’m cumming—”

With a cry that was both a sob and a shout, your pussy fluttered around your fingers. Your orgasm ripped through you without warning, sending shockwaves of intense pleasure through your body as you gasped and shuddered. Your voice escaped in broken moans and whines, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“Spencer… oh, God, Spencer…”

The sound of your climax drove him to his own release. His breath hitched, his movements faltering as he let out a harsh sound from his throat. It was raw and unrestrained, downright filthy, and you listened intently, your fingers slipping out only to circle and rub your clit, drawing out the final waves of your orgasm.

Finally, when you couldn’t take it anymore, your hand fell away, and you lay there, breathing heavily, your body relaxing into the bed. Your room was quiet afterward, the only sound coming from was the sound of your own breathing. Then you heard him calling out your name, checking in. But through the post-orgasmic bliss, all you could manage in response was a giggle.

“You’re… laughing?” He mused. “Should I be concerned?”

“No, no,” you replied, still catching your breath, a satisfied smile spreading across your face. “It’s just… I can’t believe we did that.”

A gentle laugh escaped his lips, a warm, soothing sound that calmed your racing heart. "Did you like it?"

You liked it a lot. "Can’t say that I didn’t.”

"So I take it you're not mad at me anymore?"

You let out a soft, contented sigh. “I wasn’t even that mad to begin with. Just… frustrated,” you confessed. “But I think we handled that pretty well.”

“Maybe a little too well,” he agreed softly. “I can't believe I need to take a shower this late.”

You looked down between your legs at his words, and a wave of embarrassment washed over you as you noticed the patch of wetness on your bed. It wasn't small—it spread across the fabric in a noticeable, damp stain. “Uh, yeah,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. “I also need to change my sheets.”

Then you heard a low, almost pained groan from his end of the line.

“What?”

“It’s just…” He paused, and you could almost hear him struggling to find the right words. "I'm now picturing you on your bed."

"Isn't that what you've been doing?"

"Well, yes, but now it's… different."

You couldn't help the amused grin that spread across your face. "Different how?"

"Let's just say the image in my mind is a lot more detailed now and it's not helping me calm down."

A burst of laughter erupted from your chest as you gripped your phone closer to you. “Is this your way of blaming me because you still have a hard-on?” you taunted. “I mean, I’m simply stating the facts.”

“But you’re painting a picture in my head.”

“Of me drenching the sheets just by hearing your voice?”

He made a low, strained sound. “Stop.”

“I can send you a picture if you like,” you offered slyly. “Help you visualize it better.”

There was a moment of stunned silence on his end before he finally muttered, “You shouldn’t.”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t.”

“But if you insist…”

You laughed softly. “Good night, Spencer.”

“Wait—You’re hanging up?”

“Yep,” you said cheerfully. “I thought you needed a shower.”

He made another frustrated sound, somewhere between a groan and a sigh, before reluctantly agreeing. “Fine, fine. Good night.”

And that was it. You ended the call with a satisfied smile. But as you stared at your phone, a rush of thoughts began to swirl through your mind. You were well aware of the potential risks of what you were about to do—how it could be traced back to you. You could almost hear Penelope lecturing you about online security and the dangers of leaving a digital footprint.

But when your mind kept circling back to Spencer—Spencer’s breathless voice, Spencer’s prominent veins on his hands, Spencer with a freaking hard-on in his bed—it was hard to think rationally. Before you could stop yourself, you propped your phone on your pillow and posed for the camera. Legs spread wide, your nipples pressing against your shirt, a flirtatious smile playing on your lips. The shot looked like it came out of a porno movie. You quickly sent it to him.

It took exactly 7 seconds before your phone rang again.

“Yes, Spencer?” you answered, trying to sound innocent.

You heard shuffling and a muffled grunt, and then, faintly, the rustling of fabric. It sounded like he was fumbling with his phone, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip at the frustration in his voice.

“How do I turn this into video call again?”

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

You sit at the small, candle-lit table in the cozy café, staring at your boyfriend Mattheo, who is currently giving Theo his undivided attention. What was supposed to be a romantic evening between the two of you has been thoroughly hijacked by none other than Theodore Nott, who sits directly across from you both, ranting about Quidditch—again.

Your jaw clenches as Theo goes on, passionately describing some absurd play he saw during the last match, waving his hands around like he’s delivering a TED Talk. Mattheo nods along, clearly entertained.

“Honestly, Mattheo,” Theo says, leaning forward dramatically, “the way the Chasers were handling the Quaffle, it was like they were intentionally throwing the game! The whole thing was a disaster.”

You roll your eyes, stirring your drink just to give your hands something to do before you snap. You came here for a cozy date with your boyfriend, not to sit through another episode of Theo’s Quidditch Chronicles. Noticing that Mattheo hasn’t looked your way in ten minutes, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

You gently place a hand on Mattheo’s arm, trying to pull his attention back to you. “Matty,” you say sweetly, leaning in slightly, “do you want to order dessert now? Maybe something to share?”

Mattheo finally turns to you, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, babe, sounds good. What were you thinking?”

But before you can respond, Theo cuts in—again. “Hold on, hold on, Mattheo, you’re not gonna believe this next part.” He leans forward, effectively blocking you out of the conversation once more. “The Seeker, right? He—”

You let out a frustrated sigh, and Mattheo gives you an apologetic look. You’ve had it.

“Theo,” you say, your voice tight with forced patience, “do you mind? We were in the middle of something.”

Theo, unfazed, looks at you with wide, innocent eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, were you saying something?” His tone drips with faux politeness, and you resist the urge to smack him.

“Yes, actually, I was,” you snap, your jaw clenched. “I was talking to my boyfriend.”

Theo raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair as if amused. “Oh, really? Because it seems like my best friend here was more interested in Quidditch.”

You blink at him, feeling your temper flare. “Well, my boyfriend was supposed to be on a date with me, not getting sucked into yet another one of your rants.”

Theo scoffs. “Please, I’m doing you a favor. Do you know how much effort it takes to tolerate Mattheo? I’ve been carrying this friendship for years.”

Your eyes narrow. “You tolerate him? I’ve been dealing with his obsession with dark arts books, his constant need to brood, and don’t even get me started on his messy habits.”

Theo snorts. “Oh, honey, you have no idea. He still hasn’t returned the book I lent him three months ago. I think he’s using it as a doorstop at this point.”

Mattheo, sitting between the two of you, looks utterly baffled, his gaze darting between you and Theo like he’s watching a tennis match. “Uh… guys? I feel like we’re getting a bit off-topic here…”

But you and Theo turn to him in unison, voices sharp.

“Shut up, Mattheo!”

Mattheo’s mouth snaps shut, his eyes wide with shock.

You and Theo turn back to each other, both of you now bonded in your mutual frustration. “He leaves his socks everywhere,” you mutter, crossing your arms.

Theo nods in agreement. “Tell me about it. And he’s always late for our gaming sessions. I swear, he takes longer to get ready than anyone I know.”

“He spends hours in front of the mirror messing with his hair,” you add, glaring at Mattheo for emphasis.

Theo sighs dramatically. “And he has this annoying habit of—wait, what’s with the hair thing? He does that with you too?”

“Every day,” you groan.

Mattheo, now completely lost, throws his hands up in defeat. “What—how did this even turn into—are you two seriously ganging up on me right now?”

You and Theo exchange a look before nodding in unison.

“Yes,” you say, deadpan.

Mattheo blinks, looking utterly dumbfounded. “But… this was supposed to be a date?”

Theo shrugs. “I mean, it’s not my fault you’re an equal-opportunity annoyance.”

You chuckle despite yourself, while Mattheo looks like he’s trying to process how this all spiraled so quickly. He glances between you and Theo, his confusion only growing as the two of you continue your back-and-forth, now completely bonded over your shared grievances about him.

“So, what? Now you two are just… best friends?” Mattheo asks, incredulous.

You and Theo look at each other again, then back at Mattheo.

“Obviously,” you both say at the same time.

Mattheo groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Merlin’s beard… what have I done?”

Theo smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Congratulations, mate. You’ve officially become the least important person at this table.”

You laugh, and even though Mattheo’s clearly exasperated, you can’t help but feel like the night just got a whole lot more entertaining.

inspired by Babe by @thatdammchickennugget!!

[chilschuck]

hi there!!! I love your blog!!! I know you’re mainly a Chilchuck girlie, but I saw that you occasionally do Laios headcanons/drabbles, and I’m a massive Laios simp. if you have the time and inclination, would you maybe write about Laios realizing he’s falling for a reader who is also autistic like he is? and they’re both so in love with each other, but they don’t realize it bc they’re both idiots, so the party has to set them up lmao

OBLIVIOUS (IN MY LOVE FOR YOU).

꒰ warnings: ꒱ mutual pining, hopelessly in love silly guys, gn!reader. sfw as always!

꒰ wc: ꒱ 1.3k

✦ i hope this turned out how you wanted it!!! i felt bad that i’ve been doing so much chil and nothing for the others, so i was happy that you sent this request!! i’m not sure how to feel about this, but i’m happy to get something out for you!!! <333 honestly i’m worried this turned out badly, but alas, i feel that way about everything asdfdhgjhk. enjoy lovely!!!!

It was more than obvious to anyone but the two of you, much to the party’s displeasure. The mutual pining between you had been a constant back and forth for what felt like ages, and it was almost humorous how in denial it seemed you were.

Laios always spent time chatting with you before bed, his soft voice carrying so much warmth. You always noted how fuzzy your head felt whenever he’d talk about something he was especially interested in. It was almost heartbreaking to part with him to finally rest, longing to continue the conversation for as long as you could.

Little did the two of you know that the rest of the party had their eyes on you, tired sighs leaving each of them. This was every night now, and the fact neither of you were making an effort to come to terms and admit what you were feeling was beginning to become tiresome.

Chilchuck huffed, head in the palm of his hand. “I can’t believe that this is still going on. I’m tired of it.”

Marcille tutted, but the frustration at both of your ignorances was seeping through. “There’s got to be something we can do. They’re obviously so in love with each other...”

And right she was, with how absolutely enamored Laios had become. He’d never felt this way about anyone, the feeling seeping into his bones slowly but surely. With every smile you gave him, words of encouragement, or even reassuring touches, you made yourself at home in his mind and heart. Laios was content with just the whispered conversations and adventures together, not quite piecing together the entire situation just yet.

Marcille was not so sure that was something to be content with. Izutsumi was also getting fed up with the constant beating around the bush, and Chilchuck was sick and tired of watching this ordeal occur. The three of them had decided that enough was enough, and through gossip-like whispers, they decided on a course of action.

“I’ll try and talk to Laios,” Chilchuck settled, although he wasn’t entirely happy with the idea of helping an inner party relationship unfold. It was even harder to watch the two of you continuously pine after each other blindly, so he chose what he believed was the lesser of two evils. “You two convince you-know-who to get some one on one time with him somehow.”

Marcille hummed, finger tapping her chin. “Maybe we could get Senshi to cook something up just for the two of them, get them on a date of some sort.”

Izutsumi flicked her tail in annoyance at this entire scenario, before giving her own opinion. “Let’s just get them stuck in a trap or something.” At that, the elf across from her shook her head adamantly.

“Although that might work another time, I think setting them up would work best. We’ll all conveniently go off somewhere and leave the two of them to talk it out. Somehow…”

Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to get the two of you alone together. Laios would explain something about a monster your party had encountered earlier, delighted at your interest in anything he had to say. Before he knew it, the rest of the party had excused themselves after dinner, leaving just you and him with a cooked meal and unsaid words hanging in the air.

Even earlier, Chilchuck had decided to try and drill it into Laios’ skull that perhaps coming to terms and admitting what he was feeling wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Grasping for straws, Laios tried to create excuses that what he felt for you was just that of a close friend. There was no way he was falling in love, right? Yet, the look Chilchuck had given him shut him up quickly.

“You think friends just look at each other with that lovesick face you’re always making? And it’s not exactly hard to see just how much you care about them. It’s actually pretty obvious.” The half-foot grit out, floored that Laios still hadn’t figured out just how deeply he had fallen.

Marcille and Izutsumi had a similar problem with you, finding that you were convinced what you felt was just that of a deep friendship, of course you weren’t actually absolutely smitten with the man. Giving each other a knowing look, Marcille continued her prodding.

“I think there’s more to this,” the way she said your name so softly held your attention. “You need to talk with him. Maybe talk through just what you’re feeling.”

So now, as you took another bite of your dinner, you tried to figure out just what you were feeling. Laios was doing the same, and the silence, which was never a problem before, now hung with tension.

Both of you tried to speak, before signaling the other to continue, before giving a light laugh at the awkwardness. It wasn’t that just being in each other’s company was the problem, but more so that there was so much left unsaid.

Laios ran his hand through his hair, giving you that tender smile you had come to love so much. “You first.”

Another laugh left you, before your current train of thought followed through your words. “So I was wondering… Have you ever been in love before, Laios?”

That caught him off guard, swallowing hard before thinking of the right thing to say. “Well… I, uh…” A beat of silence followed as you let him find his words. “I wasn’t sure before today. What about you?”

Trying not to get your hopes up, or have the flame within you extinguished so easily, you smiled. “Same here, actually. I think…” You trailed off, just staring at his rosy cheeks and intent gaze making your heartbeat a little faster. Setting your plate to the side, you bit your tongue for a moment. Talk through what you’re feeling… You can do that.

“I guess I didn’t really realize, but… Lately, I’ve been really eager to be around you.” Your voice tried to fight back the tremors rising within you. Before you could continue, Laios grabbed your hand and gave you that intent expression again.

“Me too! I mean, I always really enjoy our talks. I look forward to them a lot.” He spoke a tad out of breath, trying to reign in how he was feeling. Another beat of silence, followed by the clearing of his throat.

“I think I’m in love with you.” You both muttered at the same time, before the feeling of both shock and excitement coursed through you. There was… no possible way, right? But with that doting smile and lovesick gaze he was sending your way, you began to think he did feel the same.

“Thank the gods,” you whispered, a huff of relief leaving your lips. “I had to have Marcille and Izutsumi make me realize.”

Laios laughed, cheeks flushed with delight. “Yeah, Chilchuck definitely gave me a talking to. I think Senshi tried to help me realize, too. It was definitely interesting.”

Both of you shared light giggles before Laios gently pulled you into an embrace. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, nuzzling into his neck.

“Sorry it took me so long.” He whispered, inhaling deeply, the air leaving him in a content sigh. Your eyes fluttered shut, shaking your head slightly in reply. “No need. That’d mean I’d need to apologize too.”

You pressed sweet kisses to his cheek, to his nose, to his forehead. Laios beamed, intertwining your fingers as he spoke from the heart just what he had been trying to come to terms with. You did your best to do so, too.

Chilchuck, Marcille, Senshi, and Izutsumi all let out sounds of relief at watching the two of you around the corner. Getting both of you to finally realize the extent of your feelings was difficult, but oh so worth it in the end.

“Finally,” Chilchuck grumbled, before scratching the back of his neck. “That only took, what? Forever?”

Senshi grunted, trying to recall just how long it had been. Izutsumi even watched as Marcille rocked back and forth on her feet, a certain sparkle in her eye.

She’d have to get the two of you to be open more often.

— dividers by @/cafekitsune!! <33

[mysterystarz]

kiss me maybe:

summary: finding a flier for the volleyball's kissing booth was surprising for two reasons. a) kuroo had created one of the worst fliers known to mankind and b) oikawa tooru, the school's resident pretty boy was capitalizing off the rumors surrounding him. still, you couldn't deny your attraction to the setter, and he couldn't hide that you were the only one he wanted to kiss

pairing: oikawa tooru x g!n reader

word count: 12.6k (please give this a chance)

genres + themes: college!au, sort of friends to lovers(?), fluff, angst, kuroo being an occasional menace, iwaizumi being the sexiest friend you can have, kiyoko being an icon, romanticized college experience, oikawa being an idiot but yours

warnings: cursing, a tad suggestive in some parts, absolutely not proofread

a/n: hi there i am back with a long fic. anyways this thing is my lovechild and probs the most fanfic thing ive written. its really just a fluff monster (lol) and i hope you give this a chance <3 also dedicated to @chimielie because her stuff gave me the inspo to write ily lia thank you for being so talented

It was said that Oikawa Tooru’s kisses were mythical. 

Some claimed that one press of lips from the kingly setter was like a hit of a drug, sudden in a way that sent you reeling. 

To some, his kisses tasted like the finest candy, hand served on an ornate dish. 

Most magically, it was claimed that a kiss from Oikawa Tooru could heal even the most broken of hearts. Just one thread through sun bronzed hair could make you forget about the most painful memories. 

And of course, like any celebrity would, he knew about each and every rumor.

Naturally, you reckoned you were bound to see the dreaded flier sooner or later. It sat there still, taped onto the tiny bulletin board outside of the Organic Chemistry I room. It was the worst godawful flier you’d ever seen in your life. In front of you was a myriad of colorful borders, and even more whimsical fonts atop of a cardstock page. It seemed to call out to you with its boldness, as if to say “kiss me” with its scrawling typography. 

Mystic Kissbooth, it read in an infuriatingly ornate font. Come and kiss your woes away (and kiss ours away too – a mutually beneficial fundraiser!) 

“I see you’ve seen our handiwork,” chuckled a voice. You didn’t have to turn around to recognize Kuroo, who simply leaned against the bulletin board in an attempt to catch your expression. 

Not that he would. You weren’t going to give him that luxury. 

“No wonder it’s such shit,” you laughed, gesturing to the list of names at the bottom, “I’m honestly ashamed to even know you.”

“Hey,” he frowned playfully, ruffling your hair as he began his signature large strides. Curse him and his stupidly long legs. “That was heavily inspired by your Canva templates…..you know….the bad ones.” 

You let out a long and dragged out sigh while you followed your best friend (unfortunately) to one of the secluded benches on campus. Beneath the hustle and bustle of students as they sprinted to class, it was almost peaceful to rest your legs for just a moment. 

Relaxing onto the bench, you placed your backpack at your side, creating a wedge between you and Kuroo, who’d taken the seat right next to you. He didn’t seem to mind, simply casting a grin in your direction. 

For starters, you weren’t sure how to feel about the Canva invasion. Yes, it was a design platform, and yes, you’d tried (and failed sometimes) to create infographics whenever Kuroo needed a helping hand. It was just a tad surprising to discover that Kuroo had drawn his inspiration from your least successful works. 

“What’s this whole thing about?” You decided on asking after a lengthy pause. Kuroo cast his gaze to meet your own, his grin almost glued into place. 

“Well, not that we’re in any trouble, but the volleyball club could use some funds. We’ve been trying to set up some pretty competitive matches and practice games, but we need the fuel to do it. Oikawa thought this was a great way to make use of all the attention we have.”

“No wonder. He’s probably the most popular one on the team….though Iwaizumi is honestly the one to be looking at.” 

“Rude,” Kuroo huffed, “There’s a lot of other people to be interested in, you know.”

“Hopefully you don’t mean yourself,” you chuckled, dodging a playful hit on the arm from Kuroo. “But in all seriousness, a kissing booth?” Kuroo paused for a moment, seemingly mulling over a proper response, when Iwaizumi entered your frame of vision. 

There were times you wondered why Iwaizumi Hajime didn’t consider a career in modeling. From where he stood, the sunlight almost seemed to caress his skin, tanned and sun bronzed from a summer spent playing volleyball on the beach. Upon seeing you and Kuroo on the bench, he extended a quick wave before jogging over, arms flexing as he got closer. 

“Stop ogling him,” Kuroo smirked, “You could stand to be a bit less obvious.” “Shut up,” you muttered just as Iwaizumi ended his jog to stand in front of you. 

“Nice to see you here,” he beamed, his eyes meeting your own, “I barely see you around these days. Did Kuroo scare you away from the club?” “No not at all,” you smiled, moving your backpack to make space for the handsome spiker. Some of the students on the nearby path stopped to turn at the three of you, and Iwaizumi, none-the-wiser, took a swig from his water bottle. 

He was never aware of the effect he had on people. That was exactly what contributed to his charm. 

“Y/N wanted to know a bit more about the booth,” Kuroo started. “I think you’d explain it better than I could.” 

Iwaizumi raised a brow, “It’s just a club fundraiser. I mean, it's the only decent idea that Oikawa’s had in a while.”

“So he really was involved, huh.” You said (more to yourself than anyone else). The two men looked at you confusedly, before Kuroo finally spoke. 

“You know, you always seem to get a bit fidgety whenever someone mentions Oikawa. And you always try to be away from him when you come to our practices…were the two of you involved or something? Because if you were, I am honestly offended you didn’t tell me.” 

You aggressively shook your head no, warranting a chuckle from Iwaizumi. “Well, if they were, I think it’s had an impact. You start to see him for who he really is.” 

The three of you laughed, choosing to enjoy the fresh breeze. 

However, even despite the simple beauty of this moment, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about the booth.

Oikawa stood at the front of the lecture hall, spinning his pen while meeting the eyes of his teammates. At his side was Kuroo’s flier, whimsically colorful in all the ways a magical kissing booth (like this one) was supposed to be. Iwaizumi sat in the front, close enough for Oikawa to catch the teasingly judgy stares of his best friend while he waited for everyone to settle down. 

Finding a free lecture hall had been no problem. All he’d had to do is smile nicely at a few eager students, verify with a few professors, and send a frantic “MEET NOW” to the club group chat. 

The real problem was convincing the rest of the team of this idea in the first place. 

“Hey guys,” he beamed, putting the flier down on the desk closest to him, “Thanks for showing up on such short notice. You guys are the best.” 

“We didn’t come for you,” Makki snickered. “We’re just here to see what crazy justification you have for this.” “Well,” he began, “We’ve been in the spotlight for quite some time now. A lot of us have been featured in the campus newspaper, we’ve made it onto our university’s podcast, and have you even seen the instagram fanpages for us? They’re absolutely insane. So, what better time to take advantage of this?” 

“And this has nothing to do at all with the rumors?” A voice asked. Oikawa turned to meet the eyes of Semi Eita, who sat on the left corner closest to the door. 

The team laughed as Oikawa shook his head in faux denial. “Absolutely not. Why would I ever do such a thing?” 

“Because you're smart!” Oikawa was almost surprised to hear the remark from Bokuto, who sat near Kuroo with his own flier. “And it’s a lot of fun.” 

The team murmured their respective agreements before the room fell silent again. Oikawa, ever the opportunist, slid into the silence with an explanation. 

“I was thinking we set it up as sort of a de-stress day after midterms. We could get the other clubs to join in their own mini fundraisers…like a carnival of sorts. We’ll set up the booth with colorful signs and posters, and we kiss based on the cash. We can take shifts to make sure the two of us aren’t running the whole show. All proceeds are for our matches and practice games. Sounds good?” “A question. Are you going to make people line up to kiss you?” Matsukawa asked casually. 

“You mean us Mattsun. And yeah, a line works just fine.” Oikawa stopped for a moment to admire the unanimous cooperation of his team. “I’ll talk to the other club leaders and see if we can come up with a date. If that’s all the questions you’ve got, I’ll see you at practice tomorrow!” 

With this, his team filed out the door. He caught Kuroo animatedly discussing a design to attract customers to their booth with Bokuto, mentioning that he had a friend who’d know just what to do about it. In the midst of his rant, he’d mentioned a name. 

Yours. A name he hadn’t realized he missed hearing. 

A faint smile crept onto his face at the thought.

Kuroo was a menace. From the minute he’d found you at the library, he’d been nagging you the entire day, practically begging for you to come to their practice. 

“Y/N please,” he whined, attempting his own version of a pout, “If you see us, you could help design the poster to attract customers.” “I don’t think you need help with that.” That much was true. Especially with Oikawa headlining the event. They were guaranteed strong profits. 

Somehow in the midst of all this pleading, you’d ended up right outside the gym. The sounds of volleyballs hitting the wooden floors resonated off the walls, the sound so clear that you could hear it from your spot near the door. 

“You planned this,” you glared, watching Kuroo’s smile twist into one of faux innocence. Bastard.  

“What can I say? I am the master of distraction.” He opened the door, swapping his shoes out at the front and walking into the gym to the greetings of his team. You followed closely behind him, carefully striding across the polished wood and shutting the door behind you. 

The gym had always been grand. Your university’s colors were plastered onto the bleachers, with a wide curtain separating the different sides of the gym. There was space – so much of it – and the team spread out to practice various skills. 

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself the childish awe of standing in a space so big. 

“I forgot how long it’s been since you’ve been here,” a voice greeted, “But it’s good to see you Y/N.” You knew that voice. You’d know that voice like the moon knew the stars. You’d know it anywhere. 

“Oikawa,” you said, turning to acknowledge the brown-haired setter. “Long time no see.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you drank him in. He seemed to be in high spirits this afternoon, hair artfully tousled in the way he always did, and lips so perfectly smooth that they seemed out of a Chapstick ad. 

“You don’t really come around anymore,” He said, taking to walking with you around the gym (much to your own surprise). “I was getting a bit worried actually.” 

“What do you mean?” You stared at a spot a bit beyond the setter, watching Bokuto’s cross court spike slam into the floor with dizzying speed. 

“Well….we talked a bunch. And you came here at the beginning of the year. You suddenly stopped though….so I wondered if something happened.” 

“You noticed?” You scoffed. “I’m surprised you paid attention.” 

“Why wouldn’t I pay attention?” Oikawa raised a brow in confusion before suddenly, the answer seemed to smack him in the face. “You’re petty about that?”

“You barely paid me any mind,” was all you said, meeting Oikawa’s warm gaze, “It was like we’d never met at all.”

You’d met Oikawa Tooru on the flight to university. You’d waved your family goodbye at the gate, hugging them tight to your chest and memorizing the feel of them against you. 

You walked steadily, pulling your suitcase along as you made your way to the security check in. 

“Everything goes in a bag! Belts, shoes, phones! Take off your shoes and step aside. Laptops can stay in your bags! Move along!” 

You hauled your suitcase into the bin, placed your phone and wallet beside it and sent it over to the TSA associate, taking a minute to place your jacket and shoes into another bin and sending that over too. 

The gray bins were plain, old and rackety and classic, comparable to a washed out 1930’s movie. You trodded through the metal detector, feeling the cold floor through your socks. 

When you finally made it through check in, you were met with a TSA associate over your bag, looking straight at you as if you’d committed some heinous crime. 

“Excuse me,” the TSA officer asked, gesturing to your bags, “Are these your bags?” 

“Yes,” you affirmed, almost nervously. “Is there an issue?” 

“You seem to have some liquid above the restricted amount. I’m going to have to take a look.” 

For a moment, you were startled. What did you even bring? You’d diligently packed your belongings and made sure everything was secure….surely there had to be some mistake. 

Your breath wavered the minute the officer pulled out your favorite body wash. 

In the midst of your packing, you’d forgotten you’d slipped it into your carry on. 

“Oh.” Your voice shook as you meant the TSA officer’s eyes, “I’m sorry. That’s my favorite one.” 

“I’m sorry.” For a moment, it almost seemed like the man had sympathy for you, “But I’m going to have to ask you to pour half of it out. If you refuse that, you’re going to have to give it away.” 

Every step towards the outside garbage felt like a punch to the chest. While you kept composed on the outside, pouring away half of your prized wash felt miserable. 

A dying rose. A dying star. Something dying slowly and surely inside. 

Now you’d have to get another one. Brand new packaging lost to your honest mistake. 

This sucked ass. 

You meandered through the security area again, more ghost than person and collected the rest of your belongings. While your voice wavered, you didn’t shed a tear, and simply walked along. 

Somehow, in the midst of all your wandering,  you ended up in the departure lounge. In front of you were an array of connected seats with their generic cushioning and the customary TV screens telling you what flight was taking off when. 

The glass paneled windows to your right showcased the hangar, and from your spot, you could see planes parked out in front. The sun set down in the distance, leaving a watercolor blend of pinks and oranges in its wake. 

You could almost call it picturesque. 

You leaned your suitcase against a wall for a moment, scanning the lounge for an available corner. Unfortunately, your plane was packed. 

The chatter of students was overwhelming, and without a choice, you settled into a seat at the far corner of the lounge next to a pretty-boy who you were certain wouldn't speak to you. 

They normally never did. Why should it be any different now? And honestly, you didn’t want to talk. 

“This plane is probably fully booked.” A voice (the perfect blend of warm and deep) said. You turned to meet the eyes of said pretty boy, a surprisingly lovely shade of brown. Light and bright and inviting. Almost like a mocha. Or a latte. 

“Tell me about it,” you laughed, slightly amused by the novelty of the situation. It wasn’t common for pretty boys to talk to you. Even less common for you to entertain any conversation, especially when you felt the way you did.  “When I waved ‘goodbye’ to my family, I wasn’t expecting this much of a crowd to tell them about.” 

“Yeah?” Oikawa smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting upwards invitingly. “I was more surprised at the lack of seats.” 

“You’d think they’d anticipate a college student stampede.” 

Oikawa laughed, the amusement lighting up his whole face. It was a simple laugh — chiming and lovely in the way that all laughs were, but you were certain you’d do anything to hear that again. 

His presence had a way of putting you at ease. 

The two of you coincidentally had seats right next to each other on the flight. As the plane lifted off, you snapped a picture of the city lights, twinkling their tiny goodbyes as they faded from view.

The cabin’s lights were dimmed, yet even in the haziness, you could make out the features of the boy next to you. 

High cheekbones. A defined cupid’s bow. Lips that seemed even softer than the lather of that soap you loved so much. 

You’d mourn your soap later. Even if it was an object, your attachment to it simply showed a care for your belongings. 

What could be more human than that? 

Oikawa turned to you, gaze friendly as the plane began its mounting ascent. 

“You know, the TSA can be real dicks sometimes.” 

What the fuck. Who was he? A psychic?

“What did they do to you?”

“They made me pour out half my expensive hair gel. I insisted it fit the requirements but they refused to accommodate me. So mean.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at the pout he wore. It seemed even someone as vivacious as Oikawa couldn’t charm himself out of aviation regulations. 

Somehow the whole thing made you feel a lot better. 

You and Oikawa (Tooru as he later insisted) shared many conversations throughout the flight. Some revolved around human existentialism (with him quoting the “we were infinite” from The Perks of Being a Wallflower). Some revolved around space. 

Some even revolved around clubs, with him sharing high school volleyball stories and pledging your university’s team to greatness. 

When fatigue finally claimed you, the comfort of his shoulder was unmatched by anything you’d ever felt. He’d extended an invite for you to come and see them practice anytime, and laid his own head atop of yours. 

Of course, when you showed up for said practice, so had a bunch of other fans. He’d barely spared you a glance, let alone spoke to you when you’d tried to seek him out. 

A grand gym and an even grander boy. 

You just avoided him after that.

“Im really sorry about that,” Oikawa said. While his expressions were genuine, you weren’t sure how much you were going to trust it. Certainly, in all the time you’d spent apart, he must have changed at least a bit. 

To think he was the exact same boy who you met on the plane would be foolish.

“Yeah, water under the bridge.” 

“No, not really.” Oikawa paused to study your expression. Beneath all of your nonchalance was something fragile. Admiration? Loathing? He doubted it. “How long did you plan on avoiding me?”

“As long as I needed to.” You answered matter-of-factly. “Then again, that was when I thought you’d forgotten about me.” 

“How could I ever do that?” Oikawa’s expression morphed into a worried one, eyebrows knitted together and mouth downturned as if to say damn that’s an accusation. 

“Well-“

“Look I meant to seek you out after that day. I saw you there, wanted to come over, but at that point you’d gone off to continue chatting with Kuroo and met Iwa. And classes exist.”

“Okay. Water under the bridge for real.” 

His eyes lit up. “You mean it?” 

You nodded in approval, only to be dragged away by Kuroo, who’d suddenly appeared behind you. 

“What the fuck?” You yelled, not caring much for your use of profanities. Some of the nearby team members snickered as you were pulled to the corner of the gym, in front of an array of poster boards. 

“What?” Kuroo asked, “You and Oikawa seem to be fine now, so I thought I could ask you some questions about stuff that really matters. Namely posters.” 

You were met with various shapes and sizes of poster boards. Some were Elmers Tri-Folds. Some were the cheap foam boards you sometimes saw while grocery shopping. 

“If you want a design for your freaking booth,” you began, looking at Kuroo, “Give me some time.”

Oikawa was in the podcast studio. The room was secluded, plastered with posters and heart decals of all shapes and colors. Right beside the door was a framed picture of the volleyball team, with their silly faces frozen in motion. 

Shimizu Kiyoko walked out from behind the desk, nonchalantly acknowledging Oikawa with a nod. “Oikawa, what can I do for you?” 

“Hey,” he winked, unaffected by her lack of reaction, “Have any idea where I can find your host. I’d like her to do me a favor.”

“Advertising.” Kiyoko said bluntly. “I don’t think your booth needs any more attention. Our socials have covered it already.” 

“We always love the extra coverage.” 

“Doesn’t your friend help with all the designs? I think they’d be the perfect candidate to help with all this.”

“Y/N?” He asked, almost dumbfounded by how obvious that answer was. 

“Yes,” Kiyoko smiled. “They’re very nice. I’ve seen you talk a few times, though it honestly seems like they don’t like you very much.” 

“Not true.” He huffed. 

“Well it makes sense. Especially if the rumors are true.” 

People saw Kiyoko’s beauty and shyness and mistook her for a soft and innocent podcast manager. 

Anyone who’d dealt with her enough knew she was actually a force to be reckoned with. 

“The rumors are whatever you make of them. I’m simply an opportunist.” 

Kiyoko chuckled and for a moment, Oikawa felt accomplished. “You don’t need to tell me this. I already know.” 

He leaned against the door, and stretched out his arms in front of him before resting them at his sides again. “Would you at least consider telling the main host to help us out?” 

Kiyoko shuffled the papers in her hands, before meeting his eyes. “I won’t give any guarantees, but something tells me that if you do set up a de-stress carnival, your club will be the central focus of our broadcast.” 

“Thank you!” He beamed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest. “I could kiss you for that.”

“No thank you,” Kiyoko declined, “I’m not interested in confirming the rumors.” 

As Oikawa left the studio, Kiyoko walked into the recording room, a tiny smile on her lips.

Your Canva page lay woefully blank before you.

You’d promised Kuroo a design if he gave you time and Kuroo, ever the considerate friend, actually stopped bothering you about the poster. He seemed to trust in Oikawa’s judgment, and it seemed that the rest of the volleyball club did too. 

As a token of thanks, you’d come to the library, your brain and Pinterest providing you at least a vague idea of what it was you wanted to do. However, when it came time to put pen to paper (or more fittingly, hand to mousepad), it seemed that your ideas had been wiped clean. 

Your disappointment felt like a leaky faucet. Despite the minuteness of the feeling, it seemed to pool the more you thought about the situation. While designing was never an obligation, you owed it to your friends. 

You sighed, placing your bag onto the hardwood library table and casting your eyes outside. A slowly setting sun was what greeted you, a medley of pinks and oranges appearing onto a slowly disappearing blue sky. 

How cliche. Considering one's disappointments next to a sunset. 

“Y/N?” A voice called, almost saccharine in the silence of your surroundings. 

And there he was. Draped in the setting sun like a painted figure, cloaked in a veil of sunlight that skimmed his skin like silk. Oikawa’s eyes were almost honey colored in that lighting, and beneath the darkened shelves, he was almost a mystical apparition. 

“Oikawa,” was all you said, cursing every possible force for him appearing now, looking like that, when you barely had anything to show for it. 

“Kuroo told me you’d offered to help us put together some signs for the de-stress carnival.” Oikawa walked over, stepping away from the sunlight and placing his bag down at your table, opting for a seat across from you. “Which, in case you were wondering, I got approval for. A lot of the other clubs are going to be there.” 

“That’s good.” You allowed yourself a glance at him. Your pettiness had all but dissipated, but you were still wary of looking at him for too long. He was like the sun, golden and lustrous and magnetic. You weren’t quite ready to be pulled into his orbit. 

“So,” Oikawa said, taking a glance at your computer screen, “Rough designing?” 

“Yeah. Inspiration has been hard to find and your club is counting on me.” 

“If it means anything to you, we wouldn’t have asked for you to do it if we didn’t believe in you.” You looked up to see Oikawa’s gaze set firmly on your own, as if tracking your expressions. Under his stare, you felt raw. Vulnerable. If you were a cake, and he was cutting you open. 

You weren’t sure what to say. 

A beat of silence permeated the space between you, and the two of you made no effort to stop it. It was somewhat comforting. Unsaid words of yours were understood by him.

“It feels like a lot of pressure,” you finally admitted, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “I want it to be worth your while.” 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Oikawa was closer. His breath was soft, fanning over the side of your cheek like a secret. 

“I’m not sure.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper. 

Oikawa paused for a moment, as if contemplating something before decisively placing his hand on top of yours.

For a moment, you were startled by the warmth of his palm, grounding you in some way that didn’t quite make sense to you yet. Something about this was intimate in all the ways it shouldn’t be. Amidst a darkening sky and a slowly dimming library, you could almost consider this clandestine. 

You waited for the rustle of a book’s pages or the resounding footsteps of the librarian to break down the moment, but they never came.  

Oikawa looked at you, seemingly memorizing your features. He said nothing, but a slight smile appeared on his face the second he spotted a stray lock of hair by your ear. You could feel your face progressively heating with every moment spent in this proximity. 

Damn celebrity setters. Damn stupid stupid beautiful men who do this. Damn that Oikawa Tooru. 

Gently, as if touching something fragile, Oikawa smoothed down your hair, brushing the tip of your ear with his fingertips. He held your gaze fondly before suddenly, making an incredulous face. 

“What the-“ He said, looking at your hair again. “It’s back up again.” He looked at his hands in horror, as if their magic didn’t work. “Damn it, that’s not how that goes.” 

You couldn’t stop the laughter from erupting out of you at his antics, You swiftly flattened that pesky strand and looked back at him, feeling the amusement pool in your chest at his dismayed expression. 

“Sorry man,” you laughed, syllables coming out breathless, “Sometimes stuff doesn’t go to plan.” 

Oikawa seemed like he wanted to melt into the floor, and feeling the need for some fresh air, you dragged him out of the library. Upon leaving the double doors (and air conditioning), you were met by the lit sidewalk and found the wooden benches by the line of trees. 

You sat down, gesturing for him to join you. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one before,” Oikawa mentioned off-handedly, “I mean I’m here a lot, but I’m not sure when this was put here.” 

“It’s been here…?” 

Oikawa sighed, tilting his gaze to the now dark sky. “You do have an eye for good things.” 

You raised a brow. “What does that even mean?” 

“The stuff you make is adorable. And Kuroo’s always said that everywhere he brings us are all places you found.” 

“Really?” You leaned your upper body onto the bench. “I didn’t expect credit from him.” 

“He cares about you,” Oikawa said. “He gave a lot of shit when he realized that we’d talked on our plane and then not again. But I deserved that.” 

“I was petty. But it’s not like I can actually walk up to you.” 

“What?” Oikawa seemed puzzled, as if this was something impossible for him to fathom. “Why not? I don’t think I’m that bad.” 

“Iwaizumi says otherwise.” 

“Mean. But seriously, why?” 

You’d forgotten how refreshing Oikawa was. Even though you were sitting on a bench, you felt practically weightless. 

“Rumors,” was all you said, gesturing to him. 

Understanding seemed to flash into his eyes, and slowly, like connecting pieces of a puzzle, it all fell into place. He paused for a moment before meeting your eyes with a grin. 

“You know they’re just rumors right?” He smirked, “I went to a party a while back to kick off club season. There was this one girl who really wasn’t leaving me alone, so I ended up leaving. Turns out she’d told her friends that she and I made out at the party and gave me a whole lot more credit than I was expecting. Not that I mind making out, but I’m picky.” 

“Picky how?” You asked, words leaving your mouth before you even had the chance to think them over. 

“Picky as in there’s really only one person I’ve even wanted to kiss since I got here but haven’t got the chance to. I’m hoping they come to the booth. Just so I’ll get to know what that’s like.” 

You felt a subtle twist of something in your chest, though you weren’t sure what to make of it. Of course he had his eye on somebody. It was bound to happen eventually. 

“Why are you making a booth to do mass kissing then?” A valid follow up question. A guy like him could successfully pull whenever he wanted to. 

“Because I’m an opportunist,” he sighed, “And I’m not even sure if I can make a move properly. I don’t function like I normally do when they’re around.” 

“Of course you can. Anybody would say yes to you, Tooru.” 

With this, something in him seemed to snap and he immediately pulled you closer, your faces just an inch apart. His hands were firm around your waist, and the sensation was nearly searing. You could feel everything, from his hands to his breath to even the way his eyes seemed to scan your face. 

The way he looked at you now was like worship. 

“What are you doing?” You whispered shakily. With him all around you you could barely breathe, let alone think. 

“Making a move.” His eyes were on your lips. His hand gently left your waist to skim your arm before placing a hand on your cheek. “May I?” 

Your nod was nearly imperceptible before he captured your lips in yours. 

Soft, was your first thought as you felt his lips brush yours ever so lightly. You leaned into him, relishing the vaguely sweet taste of strawberry Chapstick on his lips as you swiped your tongue over his lips. 

Oikawa Tooru was a mystic. His fingers tangled in your hair and his lips searched for yours as if he was a lost man and you were his savior. He traced the curve of your waist and kissed you passionately, nibbling your lips when you pulled at his shirt. 

You could kiss him forever. You moved to nip at the tip of his ear, and his shaky breath had you considering if you should bite down harder. He pulled you back in and you melted into the feel of his lips and hands and the way his touch seemed to awaken something inside you. 

The way he held you was reverent. 

When you finally split for air, Oikawa held you close, his smile never wavering. He rubbed a thumb across your cheek, and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. 

“That was magical,” you murmured into his shirt, and you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit happy to hear the laugh you liked so much. 

You reckoned you’d be able to put together a solid design after tonight.

Oikawa had a skip in his step the following morning. He’d aced every assessment, finished all his homework, and made major breakthroughs at practice. His sets to Bokuto were so flawless that Bokuto could hardly believe he’d made those shots. 

Everyone on the volleyball team was certain that something had happened, but Oikawa refused to let up. 

He didn’t kiss and tell after all. 

“What is up with you?” Iwaizumi asked good-naturedly, tipping back a water bottle. “You’ve been in a surprisingly good mood all morning.” 

“It’s been a good day,” Oikawa smiled, offering no other details while picking up a few stray balls on the court. The gym floor seemed exceptionally shiny today. He’d be sure to thank whoever waxed the floor for their services when he could. 

“Something definitely happened.” Kuroo chimed in, scrutinizing Oikawa like he was something under a microscope. “The question is what.” 

“Am I not allowed to have good days?” 

“No you are,” Kuroo smirked, “But a day this good only happens after a sudden surge in popularity which —last time I checked— didn’t happen, or……did you make some breakthrough?” 

“With my sets, yes.” 

“No,” Kuroo smiled knowingly. “I’m gonna curse them out for not telling me anything.” 

Oikawa hid his surprise with a flash of indifference, though internally he cursed the middle blocker. It seemed that he was just as good at reading people as he was at read blocking. 

Iwaizumi caught on almost immediately, casting his eyes to his longtime friend, who all of a sudden, was acting like a deer in headlights. He found it odd that the nature of your relationship with Oikawa had transformed seemingly overnight. 

It seemed that you never truly harbored any resentment against him. 

Still, he resolved to approach you about it as soon as he could. 

The minute that you walked through the gym’s double doors, the entire team thought that they’d summoned you with all the prying they were doing. You hauled something large through the door and placed it against the wall, proud of yourself for the herculean effort it took to bring it through. 

The minute he registered your presence, Oikawa’s face looked like a puff of cotton candy. His cheeks were rosy with all the teasing and the memories of last night, and when he saw what it was that you’d leaned against the wall, he thought he should run over and kiss you out of pride. 

“Good morning guys,” you beamed, a smile so radiant that Oikawa had suddenly lost all the focus he’d had all morning. 

“Morning Y/N,” Iwaizumi greeted, walking over to greet you with a hug and a slight gesture to the object that was now leaning against the wall. “Is this it?” 

You nodded excitedly. “I got the inspiration to put it together last night. I think it captures the magic of the booth.” 

Iwaizumi leaned to flip over the posterboard and decided that he’d never seen anything more fitting in his entire life. 

The sign was a pastel wonder, a pale blue at the bottom and moving to a light pink at the top. Across the poster were small and light volleyballs, somewhat transparent against the background as if the pattern was a part of it. The borders of the poster were filled with various lip prints (and even funnier, some hidden Chapsticks).

The font at the center was a far cry from the scrawling archaic font that Kuroo had used on their initial flyers. It was a simple block font, a shade of pink with a glow filter and a pattern that made it look like a light-up sign on the part that really mattered.

The Volleyball Club presents, the poster read, written in a smaller font. Right below that, the light up letters spelled out The Mystic Kissbooth. Help kiss us to greatness. 

The team crowded around the board, marveling at both its quality and its thoughtfulness. 

“Y/N….” Bokuto trailed off, his eyes nearly bursting with amazement, “This is crazy!” 

“Yeah,” Semi added, “This is ridiculously good. Kuroo, where the hell have you been keeping them.” 

Kuroo simply crossed his arms and smiled with pride. He’d always believed in you. 

Oikawa stood shell-shocked at your work, feeling all the days of preparation finally coming together. He looked at you and smiled a smile so genuine, you were glad you’d finally pulled through. 

You looked to the floor bashfully for a moment before meeting the team’s eyes with renewed confidence. “Thank you. I’m glad to help.” 

Iwaizumi stood at your side, smiling fondly at you before turning his gaze to Oikawa. “Hey. Oikawa. What is the deal with the de-stress carnival? When is it, where is it, and where are we setting up?” 

Oikawa, still elated, looked around the gym at the team. “If you want details, I think we should call another meeting.” 

”That is a great idea,” you chimed in. 

“Wanna join?” Oikawa asked (hopefully). 

”I’m sorry, I don’t think I can. I’ve got a date with Kiyoko.” 

The team went silent. “You have a what?!”

The evening hues only made Kiyoko more beautiful. She was dressed casually, wearing classic blue jeans, a tank top, and a cardigan that only accentuated her figure. When she saw you approaching her, a smile appeared on her face instantaneously. 

“Y/N!” She greeted, “It’s good to see you.” 

You jogged up to her and pulled her into a friendly hug. “It’s good to see you too!”

You and Kiyoko fell into step naturally, opting to have dinner at one of your favorite places outside of campus. It was a quick walk from where you’d chosen to meet up, and in such good weather, it was a crime not to spend more time together. 

“I have a lot to tell you about,” Kiyoko began, “Starting with Oikawa Tooru. He showed up in my room and asked for the host. He’s got to know it’s me right?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I know you use a modulator to stay under wraps so people take the podcast seriously, but he’s had a very good track record for being perceptive.” 

“That’s a pain” she sighed, “I hope he’s not going to spread it around.” 

“He won’t,” you assured her, “Oikawa can understand rumors better than anyone.” 

Kiyoko smiled relievedly, though she raised a brow at the mention of rumors. “Are those true?” 

You fought the heat that seemed to emerge onto your face the minute she mentioned that. You just hoped it would go unnoticed by her. 

Her blue eyes, unfortunately, were just as perceptive as they were pretty. 

She smirked, crossing her arms and stopping on the sidewalk path. “When did that happen?” 

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s keep walking.” You wish your voice had come out more strongly than a murmur. 

“When?” 

“Last night.” Damn Kiyoko for getting answers out of you. 

“And…?” She raised her brows expectantly. 

“Rumors are baseless but I confirm them. He is magical.” 

“I ought to say something about that,” she giggled, and you wanted to bury yourself into your hands to avoid her teasing. 

“Shush.” 

The two of you had a lovely dinner and opted to grab a quick drink from the speciality beverage store next door. Kiyoko grabbed a strawberry milkshake and you opted for a tropical fruit floater that they’d just created. Thanks to Kiyoko, both drinks were on the house. 

She nursed the straw between her lips and took a drag of her milkshake before meeting your eyes. “I have some information on the de-stress carnival.” 

You urged her to continue, and Kiyoko did. 

“Looks like Oikawa and the other members of clubs decided to officially name it the Cool Down Carnival. They’re just going to refer to it as Cool Down for ease. They’re planning to organize it the Saturday after midterms and they’ve been working on concessions like cotton candy, caramel apples, popcorn, and a whole boatload of stuff. Administration is also totally fine with this.” 

“Wow,” was all you could say as a response. You were honestly impressed with Oikawa. He put so much thought and care into a silly rumor that had transformed into one of the school’s biggest upcoming events. He was an alchemist of opportunities, taking a rumor of lead and transforming it to gold. 

“Yeah,” Kiyoko nodded, “I’ll get social media to cover it for me. So far, nobody doubts that I’m the manager of the ‘Cast, so it should be fairly reasonable for me to do.” 

“Out of curiosity, do you know anything about how they’re planning to do the shifts of the booth?” 

“All I know for certain is that Oikawa said he probably wasn’t gonna do a headlining shift…or a shift at all. A lot of the other members were perfectly fine with taking this on, but there has been some backlash.” 

He was planning on not headlining the booth?

Your heart was suddenly very warm and fuzzy in your chest. 

Kiyoko knowingly smiled at you before tipping at the front register and dragging you outside. The breeze was oddly pleasant, something a bit uncommon for this time of year. It was approaching colder weather, but it felt nearly spring-like. 

“The weather isn’t making sense,” you said, enjoying the feeling of freedom that came with nighttime out. 

“It hasn’t been making sense,” Kiyoko smiled, “We’re anticipating a fresh fair.” 

Springs and falls blended together. You found a beautiful leaf on the sidewalk and pressed it to your palm, preserving the feel and look in your memory. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” you’d finally tell Kiyoko as you parted ways, meaning each and every word.

When Oikawa had showed up at your doorstep in the morning, your sleep-addled brain could barely fathom the reason as to why he would do such a thing. 

That was, until he walked into your room carrying breakfast in a brown bag. 

“Good morning Y/N.” He said, voice still slightly raspy from a good night of sleep. (You weren’t going to forget how that sounded forever). 

You greeted him with a morning greeting of your own and sat on your bed, stretching your limbs and analyzing the boy who—at this present moment—seemed like the happiest guy on earth. 

“Feel free to help yourself,” Oikawa grinned, grabbing a bagel and a pack of cream cheese from the bag. “I have some updates for you.” 

“Does it have to do with the Cool Down?” You walked over to the bag and grabbed something you liked from the inside. 

“Wow. How did you know about the name?” 

“I have my sources,” you winked. 

Oikawa simply laughed. “I know it’s Kiyoko dumbass. She’s one of the sneakiest podcast hosts of all time.” 

“So you do know.” 

“Obviously.” Oikawa lounged on the chair in your corner. “Nobody else is ever working in that office. She should get some people to join her.” 

You nodded and shifted to sit next to him on the couch. His warmth was a surprisingly pleasant addition into the morning, and you found yourself leaning into him. He didn’t make any move to stop it, opting to pull you in and place his arm over you. 

“We have classes soon,” you said groggily, “But I don’t want to move.” 

“We don’t have to right now.” 

“Thanks Tooru.” 

“Of course, Y/N.” He smiled. “Though we do have an afternoon meeting on how to divide the shifts. I’m not sure what we’re going to be doing about me.” 

You suddenly felt a lot more awake. You shifted your weight onto your unsupported arm and looked up at Oikawa. “Are you planning to take a shift?” 

Oikawa shifted nervously in his seat. “I’m not sure. I may have to for the sake of demand. Everyone is expecting me to live up to the expectation. I think we would be less successful without my involvement.” 

You felt a twist of something. Not jealously, but not comfort either. Something between the two. You rose away from Oikawa, walking over to the opposite side of the room where your bed was and met his eyes. 

“Do you really have to?” you asked, feeling partially unfair. There was nothing official between the two of you at the moment, but you’d thought after the kiss two nights ago…..you thought you had a chance. 

“I might,” he gulped, “But you know you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to kiss.” 

You sighed exasperatedly. “I know that you came up with this as a business opportunity and because you thought we’d never…get anywhere, but a long shift is going to be a lot of people.” 

“I know,” he sighed, meeting your eyes with an expression in his own that looked a lot like sadness. “But the fundraiser might just have to come first for now— no that’s not what I—“ 

“Please leave,” you said, voice wavering a bit, “I don’t want to deal with the whole priorities thing right now. We can say we kissed once for fun. Headline it if you must. Later Oikawa.” 

You turned away from him and walked towards your closet to find appropriate clothes for the day. You couldn’t even stand to look at him right now. Things would become too complicated for you to handle. 

“Y/N, I’m really sorry.” Oikawa said from behind you, “That is genuinely not what I meant.” 

You turned to face him again, not even able to meet his eyes. “There’s got to be some semblance of truth in what you said earlier. You love your team Oikawa. They are important. I don’t expect you to throw away opportunities for me. We’re not even dating.” You laughed dryly. “I’d like a bit of space. We can talk a bit later.” 

Oikawa seemed like he had a lot more to say, but he wordlessly slipped out of the door, leaving your room noticeably empty. 

Once he’d left for certain, you collapsed onto the floor and let loose the dam of tears you’d held in for so long.

When Iwaizumi found you in the library, he knew immediately that something was wrong. Your eyes were reddened ever so slightly, covered over by a splash of cold water to the face (most likely), and your usual cheerfulness when you greeted him was a lot less lively. 

He took the seat beside you, surprised by your lack of response. 

”Hajime,” you said softly, turning over to smile sadly at him, “Good to see you here.” 

Correction: something was horrifically wrong. 

“What happened?” He asked softly, wondering what was enough to dampen your normally resilient spirit.  

“Fucking Oikawa,” you laughed sarcastically, “Look at me saying I’d never get caught up in his web, and then doing exactly that.” 

Iwaizumi wrinkled his brow. That day on the bench, he’d known enough to discern that you and Oikawa had some sort of history. That much continued to be made obvious by Oikawa’s constant urge to see you and include you in everything that he and Kuroo didn’t think was important enough to invite you to. 

However, he wasn’t sure when you and Oikawa became more than a past set of acquaintances….and that stung a little. He understood your reasoning though. Especially if it was as complicated as you seemed to feel at the moment. 

“Were you guys dating?”

“No.” You turned to face him in full, and he was struck by the magnitude of just how magnetic you were. Iwaizumi was guilty of being stuck in your orbit. “Just a kiss. Because he sweet talked me into thinking he wanted something.”

“Knowing him, he probably did.” Iwaizumi said, “Oikawa has a tendency to be obsessive to get what he wants, but also be blinded by obligations. This was definitely about him headlining the booth, right?” 

You nodded, feeling a sudden tightness in your throat at the thought. You weren’t ready to confront the morning’s events quite yet. 

“That dumbass,” Iwaizumi groaned, “If he’d told us that he liked you and had actually managed to make a move we would’ve gladly taken his shift! Who gives a fuck about what the college body wants? Half of them thirst over everyone!” You laughed a bit at the truth of that statement. “Yeah, and Kiyoko told me she was also planning on making a little appearance.” 

At this Iwaizumi raised his brow. “Oh that’s about to be carnage.” 

“Absolutely,” you giggled, “Who knows? Maybe you’ll be the lucky person.” Iwaizumi laughed, a sound that was low and sweet and comforting. “I think I’ll leave it to some of the other boys. They deserve a chance after all.” 

The two of you grinned at the mental imagery of the team fighting for a chance to interact with your beautiful friend, and suddenly, Oikawa’s shittiness seemed like something far less relevant. 

Still, even with the humor of the situation came the very uncomfortable realization that you and Oikawa–-whatever you were–-were done if you didn’t come to some consensus. 

You shoved your hands into your face, wondering how the hell you’d managed to go from avoidant and unattached to too attached. Maybe the rumors had some merit. A kiss from Oikawa was all that it took to get so jumbled. 

Iwaizumi’s warm palm on your back was what brought you back to your senses. He rubbed his slow circles and sat there patiently until you emerged from your cover of shame. 

“What am I going to do?” you asked, voice raw and vulnerable and everything you’d rather it not have been. 

“Whatever you want to do.” Iwaizumi’s gaze was genuine, soft eyes studying you. “You’re entitled to your own decisions. Kuroo and I would never ditch you for Shitty you know.” 

“It’s for the team,” you whispered, feeling tears threatening to spill over your cheeks. Your vision was hazy, and you blinked slowly to clear the water from your eyes. “So then why do I feel like this?” 

“Because you care about him, Y/N.” Iwaizumi squeezed your shoulder affectionately, “You and him clearly bonded on some intergalactic level, so having that be suddenly shattered in favor of something seemingly less important is going to feel like shit. In fact, he is the real piece of crap here.” “The team matters.” “The team is all about relationships.” Iwaizumi said firmly. “I have a hunch there’s someone in this tournament that he needs to beat. That’s why he’s been obsessively orchestrating the perfect way to raise money to have a practice match beforehand. Still, I won’t deny it. Oikawa is an idiot for doing this to you. You have all the rights to move on with your life.” 

“I think I’m gonna take my space from him for a few days,” you eventually responded. “I think I’ll also not visit the booth. I’ll give Kuroo the sign in advance so he can help with setting up?” 

Iwaizumi nodded solemnly. “If that’s what you need to do, I’ll be your number one supporter. I’d still love it if you could stop by though. We love having you around.” 

You nodded at him. “I’ll be there for you and Kuroo. Always. And you guys can hang out with me at the Cool Down when you’re off shift.” 

“Of course,” Iwaizumi smiled, “For you? Anything.”

“How do you say, ‘I’m angry’ in French?” The ping of the recording microphone tapped on as Oikawa paced quickly around his room. 

“Je suis fâché.” 

“How do you say, ‘I like to go out with my friends’ in French?” “J’aime sortir avec mes amis.” 

“How do you say, ‘I went to my friend’s house’ in French?” 

“Je ne veux pas continuer.” 

“Oui Monsieur. À Bientôt!” His phone’s recording feature switched off, leaving him in a silent room once again. 

He was regretful, so much so that he paced around in his room in the hopes that it would give him some sort of clarity. As much as he wanted to approach you, he knew you weren’t ready to talk to him right now. 

“Shittykawa,” he heard from his door, opening with a subtlety and closing with a bang. Classic Iwa move. 

He turned to face his best friend, who at this moment, seemed to be quite irritated with him. He could feel the lecture as certain as one could feel a thunderstorm in the air. 

Iwaizumi stood, arms crossed in Oikawa’s room, leaning against the wall and pinning him with a look so strong it might as well have been a thumbtack. Oikawa felt rooted in place, and all the words he initially planned on saying left his mouth. 

“So Ushijima Wakatoshi happens to be at a school just a bit over,” Iwa started, “I did my research. Why not play a practice match with them to start to see their setting style? Break down their setter, practice receiving from a left-handed person, and maybe we can beat him, right?” 

Oikawa sighed, feeling all the fight leave his body. He made his way over to his pale blue rug and sat down. “I know. It’s ridiculous.” 

“What’s ridiculous is what you did to Y/N.” Iwaizumi glared at him. “If you’d said something about liking them and actually successfully getting them to like you, then we would’ve been perfectly capable of handling the shifts. Hell, even Kiyoko is coming. That alone will give people incentive to come and kiss us.” 

“I made a mistake,” Oikawa cringed. He didn’t even want to think about the morning. What was intended to be a romantic gesture ended up being a horrible memory. His attempts to distract himself were futile, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Iwaizumi had found you. “But they probably don’t want to talk to me.” 

Iwaizumi looked at Oikawa sadly. “They’re planning on skipping the booth. They’ve already decided to give their poster to Kuroo so he can help us with set-up. So don’t plan on seeing them.” 

He grimaced. “Not coming? Really?” 

Iwaizumi nodded. “I was pretty unhappy about it, but we’ve got to give them space to process everything.” The minute you’d smiled at him in the airport, talking about “college stampedes,” Oikawa knew he wanted nothing more but to know you better. He’d thanked every lucky star for the seats you had next to each other and relished every moment spent with you. 

He wondered why you avoided him for the next months, always daydreaming about what he’d say to you when you finally reappeared at practices. He’d searched for you in your classes, but he always missed you. 

When you walked into the gym on that fateful day, he thought he had a genuine chance. You were perfect. Your thoughts were exquisite, your smile radiant, and everything about you felt right. When he kissed you, he could’ve screamed to the heavens that his heart was yours. 

Perhaps that was why his heart seemed to tear a bit at Iwaizumi’s declaration. You wanted to move on from this. 

“Oikawa…you can still fix this you know?” Iwaizumi pulled him up from the rug, noting the reignited spark in his eyes. “You should probably get the fair set up, find Y/N, and explain yourself. I’m certain they’ll understand.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” he said solemnly, “And if they still decide they want nothing to do with me, at least I did my part.”

You found him at Kuroo’s place at night when you’d stepped through his door uninvited (like you did at times). In your hands was your laptop, a few pencils, and the sign you’d made for the booth. The last thing you’d expected was to see the person you’d been trying so desperately to avoid. 

Oikawa, for a moment, looked like he’d seen a ghost. He looked at the door, brown eyes concerned and scanning you as if you’d just walked in through the wall. 

Nobody said anything. You stood still, too shell-shocked to process the fact that a night before the Cool Down, Oikawa was spending time with Kuroo. In fact, you could barely believe Kuroo had ever allowed Oikawa into his place in the first place, especially when he knew that you were planning on popping in at some point. 

Kuroo’s eyes followed your gaze, finding it landing right on the floor next to Oikawa (as opposed to straight at him). 

“Well,” Kuroo began softly, “I didn’t warn either of you.” 

“You could have,” you said, looking back at Kuroo, “I would’ve liked to know before I got here.” “But then you would have never showed up.” Oikawa’s voice was clear, slicing through the silence of the room with a blade of decisiveness that you hadn’t heard from him. He looked you over, seemingly analyzing your health since the day he’d fucked up. 

“I wasn’t planning on running into you,” you admitted, finding the courage to meet his eyes. “In fact, I was literally just coming to drop off the sign for your booth, talk to my best friend, and then go to bed.” 

“Please let me explain myself.” Everything about Oikawa seemed pleading. His face harbored an expression of guilt so boundless that you weren’t sure how to react. 

You wordlessly sat down in the corner chair closest to Kuroo’s door, setting your stuff down on the surface closest to it. 

“I’m sure Iwaizumi must have told you what it was that we were raising money for.” 

You nodded.

“I never had the chance to tell you more about what I struggled with in high school," Oikawa said quietly. “I was surrounded by talented players. Some of them are so talented that I thought I never even stood a chance.  I realized at the end of my matches that I deserved to be on the court just as much as anyone else.” 

“You’re a damn good setter Oikawa,” Kuroo interjected, “And even Semi admires your sets. He’s from the same school as Ushijima too.”

“Thank you,” Oikawa laughed softly, but even the sound was sad. He turned to meet your eyes. “I was out of line trying to say the volleyball club mattered more to me than what we were getting to be. I was worried they’d be weird at me for flaking, but they’re my team. Iwa told me they’d always have my back. Happy setter happy tosses right?” 

You took a moment to process everything that he was saying, ultimately coming to one conclusion. He really did feel bad. 

“Why are you so obsessed with having a chance to beat someone you had a rivalry with in highschool?” 

Oikawa paused, contemplating your question. His brow was furrowed, and his hands clutched anxiously around nothing, seemingly finding the best words to phrase—whatever it was—that he was feeling. 

“It was to give myself the confidence to know I can still beat tough opponents,” he said quietly. “But it was never worth losing you.” 

You gently moved onto the floor, kneeling your way over to where Oikawa sat. When your fingertips skimmed his cheek, cool from the fall time air, he seemed fragile. 

You gently curved your fingers to tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear. “Are you sure you mean it?” 

“Every last word.” Oikawa whispers, and maybe against your better instincts, you pull him into an embrace.

As far as Oikawa was concerned, you weren’t coming to the booth today. 

Cool Down’s set up began bright and early, and despite last night’s emotional clarity, Kuroo was still the one who showed up with the sign. 

The booth was placed in a central location, but deep enough into the carnival so that after a sweet kiss, everyone could go and support the other clubs. He hadn’t been able to spot Kiyoko quite yet, but he was certain they were bound to cross paths eventually. 

He walked across the grassy area where the carnival was being set up, watching the glorious “Cool Down” sign being placed at the front of the admit area. Many sports teams and board members of academic clubs were helping organize their own booths. 

“Hey Oikawa! I can put up the banner!” Bokuto shouted from across the field, jogging up to their area with a rolled up “Mystic Kissbooth” backdrop. 

“Be careful!” He yelled back, “We can’t have one of our best spikers getting hurt. I need those cross court and straight shots in perfect condition!” 

Bokuto grinned so widely that Oikawa couldn’t help but grin back. “You can count on me!” 

He took a moment to slouch against the now filled bouncy castle by their stand, clutching his clipboard to his chest. He could practically sense the excitement seeping into the space as the nearby club members set up their stands. 

He’d had the opportunity to survey the space beforehand, and was quite pleased with the nearby stations. 

The art club created a paint gun bullseye game to win handmade trinkets and jewelry. The president stood proudly at the set up side, excitedly loading up paint into the guns. He could already predict the boyfriends who’d attempt to win there.

To the other side of them was the statistics club’s probability stand. They’d set up numerous games: cards, a wheel, and even ring toss for the chance to win huge prizes. At the present moment, Kuroo was inquiring about the legitimacy of the airpods in one of the member’s hands (and yes—they were legit). 

“This is pretty amazing, huh?” 

Oikawa snapped out of his reverie, only to see Mattsun sporting his classic smirk. He looked around for Makki, but didn’t find him. 

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I’m honestly surprised our little flier accomplished this much.” 

“I’m not,” Mattsun chuckled, “You’ve been like this since high school Oikawa. Everyone here is really grateful for the rumors. Speaking of which…think the culprit is going to show up today?” 

Oikawa snorted, momentarily horrified at the sound 

that escaped him. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not planning on being a headliner. Iwa’s got that covered.” 

Makki walked into view just a few moments later, looking thoroughly confused. “Where’s the rest of the team?” 

Kuroo walked over at the exact moment, clapping Makki on the back. “We decided to give them a little break, considering they’re going to be doing all the kissing later.” 

The group gathered together, and Mattsun pointed to the castle. “Who’s running this thing?” 

“Oh it’s just a free fun thing the school is putting up.” Oikawa smacked it for good measure. 

“How did midterms even go for you guys?” Kuroo laughed, “I pulled what I wanted in all my classes. Somehow. Orgo was a fucking miracle though. I genuinely thought I failed.”

“I was mostly fine,” Mattsun chuckled, “Though we won’t talk about history. Freaking liberal arts.” 

Oikawa’s midterms had gone more or less to plan, but the added emotional stress had made it much more difficult to keep cool. 

Standing there in that grassy field, he felt more at peace than he did the rest of the week. 

Maybe today would be okay after all.

You and Iwaizumi were in your room trying to devise a plan on how to attend the carnival. The cool wood of your desk hit your wrist as you spread out the makeshift blueprint of the event that Kiyoko had so graciously given you. 

Iwaizumi paced along the floor, inspecting outfits that you picked out while you devised a mental list of everywhere you wanted to go to maximize your enjoyment. Economic principles were literally designed off of utility, and you wanted to make sure all your contributions would have the best outcome for the clubs and yourself. 

Midterms had been stressful, and while last night’s talk had fixed most of what had contributed to that stress, you still wondered about Oikawa.  

Iwaizumi was the event’s new headliner, so what did that mean for Oikawa? 

You weren’t sure. 

The Saturday morning filled your room with sunshine that was comforting. From your window you were greeted with the multicolored leaves of campus, some floating down leisurely to hit the grass. 

Iwaizumi, it seemed, had finally picked your outfit. 

“Here,” he gestured, pointing to one of your favorites. “You rock this one.” 

“Why thank you,” you smiled, tossing him the blueprint. “I’ve finally figured out the order I’m going to tour the Cool Down.”

Iwaizumi caught the paper in one arm, muscles flexing ever so slightly as he did. You nodded appreciatively. He was going to generate a shit ton of money. 

He put a pen between his lips ever so slightly as he read the marks on the page. “Cotton candy. Art booth. Bouncy castle. Stats games. Chemistry lab. Apple dunk to win candy apples. Physics coaster.” He handed the page back. “That’s a pretty solid list. I think you’re missing something though.”

You pulled the pen out of Iwa’s mouth (surprised at your boldness) and smiled gently at him. “I’ll be sure to pop in at some point or be nearby to support you.” 

Iwaizumi nodded, “Of course. I just need to beat you at any and all games we visit after my shift.” 

You snickered. “Not a chance.” 

Iwaizumi simply smirked in response.

“Hey, I need two tickets!” A student hollered to her assistant, who at the present moment, was working on acquiring more admit tickets from the roll they’d customized for the event. “We have quite the line here.” 

“I’m working on it!” The assistant hollered back, jogging over with the entire row. 

The line for the Cool Down was large, and you were thankful you’d had the foresight to arrive early enough to avoid a majority of the crowd. Being friends with Iwa had its perks too–the minute that the admitting team had spotted him, they’d immediately ushered you to the front so you were in a position to visit him later. 

Soon enough, you were at the front of the line. 

“Well hello there friend of Iwaizumi,” the girl at the front smiled, “How many tickets do you need?” “Just one,” you said, surprised at the lack of prompt to pay the entrance fee. “What about the entrance fee?” 

“Oh, Iwaizumi took care of that already,” the assistant grinned, handing you a beautifully designed cardstock ticket and tying a wristband around your wrist. “So you can walk straight in.” 

You smiled graciously at the duo. “Wow. I’ll go find him and pay him back. Thank you guys.”

Stepping around the ticket distribution center, you walked straight through the decorated entrance area and walked in. 

For a moment, you were awestruck. The usually empty grass fields were filled to the brim with activity. All around you were the booths of various clubs, all with lines to try them out. You could smell the sweet and tart scent of caramel apples in the distance, and saw a couple trying out the physics club’s make-shift coaster with a cotton candy in their hands. 

The late afternoon was brisk and fresh, and you felt the possibilities of the evening unfurl around you. As the sky darkened its hues, the fair would begin to light up from the fixtures that trimmed everyone’s areas. Everything, from the food areas, to even the Mystic Kissbooth would create a movie-like scene. 

You decided right there and then that the Cool Down was the best fair you’d ever attended. You’d never seen anything as well thought out as what you saw today. 

You made your way to the popcorn area, finding new booths that you hadn’t seen on the blueprint. In front of you was a simple dart-throw, with the guarantee of winning a special edition Cool Down shirt if you hit within a certain range. 

This was intriguing. 

“Hi there,” you said quietly, walking up to the booth. “Can I give this a whirl?” The booth’s president looked up at you shocked for a moment before nodding. 

“Of course!” He said excitedly, elbowing his shift mate. “Y/L/N Y/N, right? We are huge fans of your work. Kuroo has told us so so much about you!” 

“My work?” You asked curiously as they pressed a dart into your palm. “Like my fliers?” “Hell yeah,” the president grinned. “Pay if you win okay? I honestly want you to get our design out of it. We were inspired a bit by your Mystic Kissbooth sign.” 

In the spirit of good fun, you aimed the dart as best as you could, so surprised when you hit a spot very close to the bulls-eye. 

“Hey!” you shouted excitedly, “I actually got in range!” The president smiled excitedly. “Amazing! What’s your shirt size?” You told him your size, tucking a good amount of money into the jar. As soon as the soft shirt fabric hit your hands, you were immediately overcome with a sense of pride. The design was beautiful and simple, capturing the essence in the fair in just an image.

“You’re the design club?” You grinned, “This is amazing!” “Ah thank you,” the president said bashfully, “It’s an honor to get a compliment from you. You’re more than welcome to join us. Canva art is still art we love.” 

“I’ll be sure to consider it!” You waved goodbye to the design booth as you made your way deeper into the fair, a t-shirt in hand. 

“Hey there! Want a chance to win a cool plushie? Come right over!” You turned your head to be met with the sewing club with something that looked a lot like “Bop-It” set up with sheets of papers next to them. Out of sheer curiosity you made your way to the booth, finding a larger crowd than you anticipated. “Okay,” one of the members began, “Here is how this works. You and your competitor will receive a pre-programmed Bop-It machine. Follow the color scheme as closely as you can and note the last color in each sequence on your sheet. If you don’t mess up before your partner, you win ANY handmade plush of your choice!” In front of you, you spotted a couple tucking money into the jar and competing against one another. The round was quick, ending when someone clicked the wrong color. The handmade plushie of the winner was adorable. 

Somehow, all your observations had led you to the front of the line. 

“Hello,” a student smiled, “Do you have a competitor with you?” You were about to share a response when you heard a voice behind you. “Yeah, they do. I’d like to play please.” You were pleasantly surprised to find Kiyoko grinning as she tucked a hefty amount into the jar. The student at the front seemed enamored, and so did the entire line. 

“Shimizu Kiyoko is here…” they all whispered. 

“Hey Kiyoko,” you smiled, placing your own money in the jar. “Planning to beat me?” 

“Of course.” She grinned mischievously, “I ran a volleyball team. I am competitive enough to beat you.” 

The game began as soon as the students got a grip of themselves. You frantically hit the colors and noted them down, only to tie with Kiyoko. You’d both walked away with adorable plushies, though Kiyoko had forcibly had to ensure that they didn’t hand her an extra. 

“I’m glad to run into you,” you smiled, walking with her further into the grass. “I had no idea what time you were planning to get here.” 

“I’m glad I found you.” Her smile was infectious, and soon enough, you stood in front of a candy apple stand. 

“Are you planning to visit the booth?” You asked her, watching her pay for her apple. 

“Yeah,” she smiled, “Oikawa begged me to cover, so I was feeling nice. Though he’s been sulking lately.” You raised a brow. When you saw him last night, you could feel his fatigue. You felt the stress melt out of him when you pulled him in for a hug, but you hadn’t realized the extent of his distress. 

“He hasn’t kissed today at all,” she smiled knowingly, “I think he’s saving an appearance for a special someone.” “He’s….not headlining?” You were shocked. After everything, it seemed that he really meant what he said. 

“Nope,” Kiyoko wiped some caramel from her lips. “And the booth’s sales have been spectacular.” 

Standing there in the field, you were hit with the intense urge to see him. “Go,” Kiyoko smiled, “They’ve been waiting for you to show up.” “We’ll catch up.” You smiled as you took off in a jog towards the booth. The wind swept your cheeks as you ran, and you could see the evening sun dip into different colors. Beautiful, you thought, feeling the adrenaline pump through your veins. 

He really had meant everything. You needed to see him. 

When you arrived at the booth, you were shocked at the line. So many students lined up, money in hand as they waited for their chance to kiss a volleyball player. You were shocked to see the crowd, watching someone hand Semi a particularly large bill before leaning in for a kiss. 

You surveyed the booth for Oikawa, but you couldn’t find him anywhere. You couldn’t stop the thrum of your heart in your chest from overpowering your senses. Where was he? What if you were too late? At that particular moment, Oikawa walked out from behind the stand, putting some Chapstick onto his lips. And then, he saw you. 

You stood in line, a large bill in hand and an expression that seemed almost desperate. Oikawa has never seen anyone look more perfect than you did right now. You held a handmade plushie and a shirt, lips flushed from biting them. 

You met his eyes, feeling your heart shock at the sensation. There he was. 

Before you even had a chance to think about what you were doing, you ran out of line to him, shoving the bill into his hands. 

“Tooru,” you said breathlessly, looking at him with an expression he’d never seen before. “Kiyoko told me you weren’t headlining. I was afraid I wasn’t going to find you. I’m sorry for not trusting you.” Oikawa could hardly hide his shock as the words tumbled from your lips. He studied your cheeks, and smoothed out your wind mused hair with a soft smile. “Hey, it’s alright.” You exhaled, looking at him like he strung the stars. “I thought I wouldn’t make it in time.” Oikawa simply grinned before pulling you in for a passionate kiss. 

This was different from the last time you kissed. He cupped your face softly and wrapped his other arm around your waist, tracing a small heart into your back. You could feel the curve of his lips as he kissed you softly, pulling you deeper when you smiled back into it. Everything about this was soft, almost loving. It felt like a truce. It felt like a confession. 

It felt better than both of those things. When you finally split for air, his smile was nearly blinding. He looked at you like you were a poet and he was your poetry, a product of your purest affections. 

“Go out with me sometime?” He looked nervous, standing there like he hadn’t just kissed you like you were the most special person in the universe. 

“Of course,” you grinned, pulling him down for another kiss.

©mysterystarz all rights reserved, please do not plagiarize, translate, or modify my fics in any way even if credited

if you got this far, thank you for reading <3!!

[icanseethefuture333]

PAC: What your pretty self needs to hear for Valentine's Day ♡

Your heart's message to you + a message from your secret admirer 💌

They say the truth ain't pretty, but coming from that pretty mouth

The truth is fitting, cause you ain't ever talkin' loud

And you know plenty

Yeah, you know what I'm talkin' about

Cause you just get me

Yeah, you so pretty... ♡

Pile 1:

Your heart's message to you:

Shufflemancy -

Girl by Destiny's Child

Far by SZA

I MISS YOU SO BAD by iKON

The Lovers, Seven of Cups, & Three of Cups

So what your heart wishes to tell to you is that there is still love out there. You may have previously gotten over an ex, a past crush, or you are in the process of recovering from a break up. In the song "Far" SZA asks Sadhguru how to deal with rejection, in which he responds, "That's great! If nobody wants you then you're free." You have to look on the bright side of things. You also have to know what your worth is. No one else can define your worth but you. You have to be secure with who you are as a person. No one can love the parts you need to heal from. Once you feel fulfilled with who you are as a person. That is when you can form healthy connection with others. I believe you still are hoping for you and this person to get back together but you are hurting yourself even more by obsessing over this person (was going to say focus but instead I heard obsess). Reflect on your current situation and ask yourself, "What wound is this person triggering in me?". What do you need to move on from? To take care of your heart you should do some self reflection. Journaling and shadow work would help provide some clarity. Your heart asks you to not fall back into old habits. Self love is important for your growth, pile 1!

Your secret admirer's message to you:

Shufflemancy -

Time To Love by Red Velvet

Changes by Jeff Bernat

I Think I'm Falling by KOHH

Wallflower, New Love, & Union

There is a new love coming in for you! This person could be shy and likes to admire you from afar. They could be self conscious about some things about themselves as well. The feelings seem to be mutual here. There could be a new crush that you like and wish to speak to, but are to nervous to ask them out of fear of rejection. Don't fret! Confessing your feelings helps build courage. If the person rejects you, then that just means there isnsomeone else better out there for you. It is not the end of the world just because you got rejected. Have a little more confidence in yourself, you are great, pile 1! Regardless, I see you and this secret admirer actually being intimate. Things could develop into something more serious with this union card. So make sure to be open to this energy and give them a chance at love ♡

Pile 2:

Your heart's message to you:

Shufflemancy -

Mine by Slayyyter

ANTIFRAGILE by LE SSERAFIM

Post To Be by Omarion ft. Chris Brown & Jhené Aiko

Four of Cups, Eight of Wands, & The Fool

Your heart does not want to be tied down at the moment! I believe it has plenty of love to give lol. You also have no problem with turning people down or vice versa. You are looking for a fling and just wish to have a casual relationship! You could have a lot of options in love and would like to explore things romantically, maybe even sexually. Your heart suggests that you focus on your happiness and learn what pleases you. Love does not always have to be serious. Sometimes short lived romances have the best stories to tell! You will be feeling very confident and sexy in your romantic endeavors.

Your secret admirer's message to you:

Shufflemancy -

Boys Wanna Be Her by Peaches

No Flex Zone by Rae Sremmurd

STUCK IN MY HEAD by Twice

Open Relationship, Mature Woman, & Fun Times

This secret admirer of yours is honestly hilarious 😭. I kept getting meme songs and I hs to shuffle again to get a proper message. This could be my queer pile as well 🏳️‍🌈. I'm getting Renee Rapp vibes from your secret admirer, Pile 2 😋. They could suit the 'girl crush' aesthetic or if it is someone who identifies as masculine, they have a very pretty face. They are open minded, flirtatious, and exciting to be around. This person wishes to tell you that you are stuck in their head! They find you to be "so fine" 😜! They would like take you out soon. I'm getting it will be a bar date or they will take you dancing at a night club.

Pile 3:

Your heart's message to you:

Shufflemancy -

More Than Enough by Alina Baraz

Bluffin by Brent Faiyaz

Mona Lisa by Naji ft. Monter Booker

Death, Six of Swords, & Six of Pentacles

Oh, pile 3, bless your heart 🥹. You are someone who has such a kind, gentle heart. You have the purest intentions and for that people can tell how geniune you are as a person. You could be selfless and caring towards others. You have so much love to give that it is obvious to others. I don't see any bitterness in your heart and I feel like your heart wishes to tell you how proud it is of you for being able to find forgiveness. You are leaning to let go of the people who have hurt you in the past. The essence of your spirit is so soft and it's very beautiful to witness. Your heart's message to you is that anyone would be lucky to have you in their life. So don't ever feel like you are not enough because you're more than that. You are this cup that is overflowing with love and sincerity.

Your secret admirer's message to you:

Shufflemancy -

At Your Best (You Are Loved) by Aaliyah

Freaky Deaky by Tyga ft. Doja Cat

LOVE by Kendrick Lamar ft. Zacari

Dating, True Love, & True Gem

Your secret admirer absolutely adores you, pile 3. They see your value as a person and they know that there is no one else like you in this world. You have so much love to give and they do as well. I am getting that they want to literally treat you like a princess/princess - just overall royalty. Their have geniune intentions as well and they would like to spoil you this Valentine's day ❤. (Channeled song: Kiss It Better by Rihanna 💋) for a few of you, you and your specific person could be separated. I see that things will turn out for the better soon. So have faith in yourself and in this person for things to work out. They could offer you some sort of proposal, love offer, or a token of their gratitude to show how much they love you. I see things would be passionate, flirty, and romantic for you and your secret admirer 🎆.

Pile 4:

Your heart's message to you:

Shufflemancy -

Green Light by Beyoncé

Standing Next To You by Jungkook

God of Music by SEVENTEEN

Two of Pentacles, Page of Wands, & The Magician

You are such an optimistic person, pile 4! You could be someone who often gives advice to others and help others look on the bright side of things. You radiate such positive energy and it makes you a joy to be around. You could be someone who knows what they want and goes after it. You know how to balance your heart with your brain. Intuitive but also logical. People wonder how you are able to turn your ideas into reality. Your heart's message to you is to keep going after your goals and not let anyone distract you from your dreams. As long as you are happy that is all that matters. Your heart also wishes to tell you that whatever makes you light up inside is meant for you. Whatever your heart is set on whether that's a new job, house, etc. You have the ability to manifest whatever you desire.

Your secret admirer's message to you:

Shufflemancy -

Phone Me by Che Ecru

Novacane by Frank Ocean

Own It by Drake

Passion, Friendship, & Communication

For some of you, you could be currently in a "situationship" or have a FWB with someone. While for others, your secret admirer is possibly a friend of yours. This person is conflicted on how to approach you. You may receive a text or phone call from them soon where they ask you about your relationship with another. They could ask you how you feel about them or drop hints that they are attracted to you. The ball is in your park, pile 4, if you decide to be more than just friends with this person.

Pile 5:

Your heart's message to you:

Shufflemancy -

Girl Like Me by Alexa Demie

Fulfillment? By Kilo Kish

Baddie by IVE

Eight of Cups, Two of Cups, & Seven of Swords

I am getting like "manic pixie dream girl" vibes from you, Pile 2. Something about you is hard to pin point to others. Mysterious but also so enchanting. You know you are someone who is complex but also so beautiful. You have these interesting quirks that makes you stand out and memorable to others. You are comfortable with who you as a person and it could have took you a long time to get to a place of being this self assured. You could have a child like wonder as well and it is admirable to others. You could be questioning what direction to take in life and could find "adulting" very hard but don't give up, pile 5! Everything will be okay in the end. Your heart's message to you is to learn what gives you emotional fulfillment in life. Also to not take shit from no one. What's interesting is your face could look quite sweet but you are actually feisty and have a firey spirit. There is a duality to your personality and its attractive. I am getting like Song Jia, Alexa Demie, Wonyoung, & Taylor Russell vibes from you, pile 5. Your heart wants you to embrace your confidence and focus on the abundance in your future. Do not let people drag you down and dim your light. Your heart believes it is time for some self pampering. Set your standards high in love and know that you are deserving of everything you desire. I also believe it is time to burn bridges with people who no longer serve you. How can you live the life of your dreams if other people only acknowledge the version of yourself that no longer resonates with you? If you wish to be the girl of your dreams, you have to learn to put yourself first.

Your secret admirer's message to you:

Shufflemancy -

Lilith by Halsey

Ditto by NewJeans

High Fashion by Roddy Rich ft. Mustard

Triangle, Travel, & Spiritual Growth

What is this Single's Inferno?! You have options, pile 5. You could have more than one secret admirer. You could be observing your current options in love and feeling "Well! Let the best person win☺️!" I see people wanting to fly you out and pay for your trips, oh my🫠. One of the people you will date could be popular or have a well known social status. You give people butterflies and some of you may know what affect you have on people, while some of you are innocent to the fact. You could receive love confessions or you may even already have. I feel like you are the type of person who receives love letters, jewelry, candies, and box of chocolates, if not you are going to be spoiled for this Valentine's day! You could meet your secret admirer(s) while traveling or when going on vacation. Your secret admirer's message to you is that they "like you" and hoping you feel the same 💕. They want to understand your love language and words of affirmations / gift giving could be one of their love languages in particular.

Pile 6:

Your heart's message to you:

Shufflemancy -

Rose by Miyeon

Honey Dew by Lion Babe

Chanel by TiaCorine

King of Pentacles, Five of Wands, & Queen of Cups

I feel like you are at odds with your heart and brain right now, pile 6. You seem to feel confused about a decision you have to make. I believe you could think things are "sweeter" in other people's lives but that is not necessarily true. I know sometimes we can want what other people have but if it gets to the point of comparing yourselves to others then its not healthy. You have to remember to be grateful for what you have in life. It's okay to want the finer things, but what are you overlooking when you are doing that? Your heart's message to you is to not worry about what other people are doing in life and instead focus on what makes you great of a person. You are just as lovable, sweet, and beautiful.

Your secret admirer's message to you:

Shufflemancy -

Congratulations by Mac Miller ft. Bilal

Little Things by Sunni Colón

Aura by Mariah The Scientist

Work, Money, & Long Distance

I believe you and this person are already in a relationship. If not, your secret admirer will be the next person you end up in a romantic relationship with. This person could live further away from you and has a high paying job. They prefer to take on a traditional role of a provider. This person could have a hard time discussing their feelings though and shows their love through acts of services. While you, I feel you are more of an emotional person. You both could have a hard time expressing your feelings and thoughts properly to each other, which would cause conflict. Things might be tense for Valentine's Day. You and your secret admirer could have strong feelings for each other, but there needs to be an important conversation had in order for this relationship to progress. Both of you could be disheartened by this but there's hope! Try to appreciate the little things in your relationship and not focus on being the "perfect couple", for that does not exist. Every relationship has its flaws and all that matters is that you and you partner love each other very much. If it's meant to be, it will be, it won't be something you have to force, it'll come naturally.

[mattsturnioloz]

I found you again.

(‘Then I lost you’) Part 2.

Summary: Sequel of ‘Then I lost you’, A year after a devastating break up, Y/n finds herself reuniting with the love of her life, Matt Sturniolo, at a mutual friends birthday party. Will they rekindle their love?

Warnings: I don’t think there is any??

Pairings: Y/n x Matt sturniolo

A/N: (i’m so sorry this took so long but i love you all thank you for being patient, this is so rushed not my best work)

I wake up to birthday wishes from some family and friends. They’re telling me to go live up my 21st birthday and to go out and get drunk but I know damn well i’m gonna be soaking up my misery. My first birthday alone. I always spent my birthdays with the triplets because they were also my family and it’s been almost a year since Matt and I broke up. I still hang out with Nick and Chris but it’s not the same.

I get out of bed like usual, it’s just a normal day. But somehow it feels sadder, lonelier. I change into some black sports shorts and a black t shirt for the gym. I put on some sneakers and I put up my hair before grabbing my purse and keys along with my headphones, hooking them around my neck.

I go to my car, putting music on and decide to stop by a coffee shop to get myself a drink. I head to the gym and I work out for about an hour and a half before walking out to the parking lot and getting back in my car heading home.

When I arrive, I walk to the bathroom and I take a shower, taking at least an hour just staring at the white tiled walls, taking in the warm feeling of the water roaming down my body. I finally get out and decide to do my makeup just to stay home.

When I finish, I make myself breakfast and I watch tv, occasionally checking my phone, which is getting 10 new messages every minute. All these people yet.. I’m still sitting here.. alone.

I turn down the volume on the tv, and I feel myself already starting to doze off. The sound of my washer and dryer running, the sound of the whispers coming from the tv, the sound of my ac roaring through my small house. All this sound but it’s still so silent.

I fall asleep and jump awake when I hear knocking at my door. I slowly get up, opening the door.

“SURPRISE!!!” Says Nick and Chris with a huge smile on their faces, Nick holding a cake and Chris with a party hat on, a kazoo in his hand.

“Oh my goodness you guys!!” I say with a huge smile on my face. “Happy Birthday!” Chris says tackling me in a hug. “Thank you..” I feel like crying, but I don’t and Nick joins the hug.

“I know you don’t like the attention on you, so we’re gonna go to tara’s party, you know since the attention will be on her but we can still celebrate your birthday.” Nick says with a smile on his face.

“I don’t know guys.. I’m not really feeling it this year..” I say sounding like a lazy slub. “If you’re worried about Matt, he’s not going.” Chris says, Nick smacking his shoulder.

“Oh..” I whisper, messing with my chain. “Come on, go get ready, we’ll be back to pick you up.” Nick hugs me. “Ughhh finee..” I groan, making my way to the room as they set my cake on the table and chuckle as they head out.

I go to my room and change since my makeup was already done. I change into a silk simple white dress and I crimp my now, short hair. Honestly I don’t know why I cut it. Maybe I do.. They say hair holds memories and after Matt and I broke up, it seemed right.

I put some white red bottom stilettos on to match the dress before putting on jewelry and perfume. I finish up and text Nick that i’m ready and he says that they’re on the way. Who the hell is driving? Nick and Chris can’t drive for shit.

I leave my house when I hear them pull up, locking the door behind me. I get in the backseat where nick and chris are. “This is an uber?” I ask them a little confused. “yea we figured it’d be weird if Matt drove” Chris says awkwardly.

Right. But why was I hoping to see Matt? I decide not to ponder on it TOO much. “How is he?” I ask almost regretting asking. They exchange awkward glances. “He’s good actually.. Uh well-“ Nick says immediately stuttering looking at Chris for help.

I raise my eyebrows waiting for him to tell me. “Well??” I ask, my heart beating faster, the anxiety rushing through my veins and I get chills, a pit in my stomach from the build up. “Matt actually.. he’s in a new relationship.” Chris says avoiding eye contact and my hearts sinks. “He has a girlfriend.”He adds on, twiddling his thumbs.

I nod and smile putting on a front and my chest has an empty feeling. “That’s great, I’m happy for him..” I smile and they both nod but they know that I wasn’t really happy about it. I look out the window with the feeling simmering through my body. i’ll never have a chance again.

839 words.

A/N: (I hate this so much omg but I couldn’t delay any longer, i’ve been busy and going through a lot but thank you for being patient, I know it’s short but let me know what you guys think so farrr)

Taglist: @watercolorskyy @chrissfleshlight @realuvrrr @stonermattsgf @pvssychicken @venusbabysblog @kayla-hearts4sturniolo @endereies @imwetforyourmom @starzinasblog @urfavstromboli @sturniqloo @star-yawnznn @h3arts4harry @asherrisrandom @tsturniolo4 @urmom69lol @luzsturniolo @victoriasturniolo @ncm9696 @valkatriee @sturnslut1 @annielolz @sturnlover4eva @slxtarchive @luzsturniolo

[always-just-red]

hello hi! ik the fandom mostly favors interactions between LIs & MCs/Readers but i was wondering if you have your own ideas between the LADS boys like friendship headcanons between them? how their dynamic works and which would be the best bros with each other or strongest siblings rivalry vibes between them (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

hopefully this is alright to request! 🙏🏻

Hi!! That's totally alright, I've seen so many good takes on this already and I love a good character analysis, so would love to weigh in! I waited to answer this since I was actually working on this fic when you sent it, and that's got all the guys interacting, so check it out if you're interested! 🥰

Disclaimer: These are all my personal headcanons! I'm not the authority on the boys and their characterisations, nor do I claim to be, so pls be respectful if you disagree with anything!

Ok so!

I can see Rafayel and Sylus getting on well once they're more familiar with each-other (though maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part).

I think Sy would honestly force Raf to confront a lot of his own insecurities? After all, Sy seems a lot more comfortable in who he is-- he's got that self-assuredness and charm that we all know Raf has to put more conscious effort into portraying. Whilst we don't know the extent of his past, Sylus has clearly made peace with the fact that he has to do bad things sometimes, whereas Rafayel still seems to have a lot of inner conflict around his actions, morality and identity.

I imagine Raf resenting Sy a little at first and so acting out a bit, trying to one-up him etc, and Sy being Sy, I think he'd probably rise to the challenge (he could be the bigger man, but like, where's the fun in that??)

Sylus is smart, so I think he'd probably realise pretty quickly that Rafayel is masking. They've both been through a lot, and once they see that in each-other there'd be a mutual respect I hope. Plus they probably have common enemies?? So if they can both get over the instinct to lone-wolf it, that's one kick-ass team ready to go (and I will be SEATED, ready to enjoy the view!!!)

If the guys are all out together, Zayne's probably gonna take it upon himself to be mediator, care-taker etc, especially as I think he'd be the one to read between the lines and notice if any of the others are struggling (e.g. if Rafayel's getting worn out in a social setting).

At first, it would be because they're MCs friends! He knows she cares about them, so he's gonna be looking out for them all. But he needs a break! So once they're all more familiar, I can see the others trying to coax him into relaxing and letting his guard down a bit, and he'll appreciate that! (But he will keep one eye on the ball because, like, imagine Raf coming up to you and saying 'I've got this, you can totally trust me' like you would have a med-team on standby, y'know?)

I think Sylus and Zayne would naturally have a bit of rivalry in terms of authority, but it would be light-hearted. There's an ongoing debate around who MC left in charge (Zayne) but there's only one person who's actually convinced by that debate (Sylus). He's gonna assume leadership position anyway, and Zayne lets him get away with it to a specific extent, unless it crosses a line, and then it quickly becomes clear who the real leader is.

Xavier!! I can see Xavier being the 'quiet one' of the group who secretly has a lot more sway than any of them realise. The others are super comfortable around him, especially Zayne when he actually wants to relax, or Rafayel when his social battery is dead. But! Xavier's no push-over, and that quickly becomes apparent in any conflict.

I actually think Sylus would enjoy stoking Xavier's darker side (if Xavier gets involved in an argument you best believe Sylus has the popcorn ready) and that the two would make pretty good sparring partners. They'd have fun with the whole Hunter's Association vs Onychinus thing, similar to the MC/Sylus dynamic.

But at the end of the day?

There's a reason we love the boys-- they're all good guys, and whatever conflicts there are, they're gonna figure it out for MC's sake. They've all been through so much, and they're all selfless in their love for MC, so that's always gonna be something they can relate to and appreciate in each-other.

And I think they could all benefit from more genuine friends?

So yeah! That's my take! I know I love angst but I'm choosing to be an optimist, mostly because I love the found-family trope and I wanna see the boys getting up to sitcom-type shenanigans! 😭😭😭

[obeymematches]

Hi! How about hc of mc getting pursued by another demon to be with them instead since the demon brothers ignores them and doesn't treat them that well connected to their avatar (like how belphie ignores you 24/7 for sleep) I just wanna see possessive demon brothers please! 🥺

ahhh i remember the guy who i was _just_ talking to on tinder say i needed to have his name painted on my nails... what a funny guy he was

also i'm having this in several parts, it's gonna be that long.

Possessive.

Prolouge;

You supposed you and him had a special chemistry between the two of you. It is hard to describe what it was like but you felt it everytime you looked into his eyes, heard their voice, felt their touch. To your best knowledge the feeling was mutual, he did ask you out on a couple of dates. Until he stopped texting you (if you texted him he didn’t even open your messages) and sometimes you didn’t even see him for a day or two despite living in the same house. You didn’t want to make the situation more awkward than it already was , so from your point of view you made the most realistic decision. Catching another fish from the sea seem like a great idea.

Lucifer: He saw you from a distance as you were having a chat with Lord Diavolo himself. At the time he preferred not to think much of it. Not that the idea of you falling madly in love with the prince didn’t cross his mind; of course he did consider that a possibility. He knows Diavolo the best and he also knows he’d adore you if he got a chance to. The next day you and Diavolo walk by, completely unnoticing him. He didn’t eavesdrop; what would be the point of that? But he, or to be more specific, this side of the RAD building could hear Diavolo joking about and laughing with you. It was most unusual! Especially in public like this, Diavolo would normally keep it lowkey, it would be too risky to let anyone know he enjoys your company.

That’s when The Avatar of Pride had the idea to check the message you sent him ….. almost 3 weeks ago.

Was telling you he was busy be good enough? Would you buy that? Most likely not. It was a shame he let the situation escalate like this, however it’s been decades or maybe even a century since he felt chemistry with anyone the way he did with you. Of course he can’t tell you like it is, otherwise he wouldn’t be the Avatar if Pride but the Avatar of Bluntness.

As much as it hurt his ego to admit it, he did grow fond of you.

„Meet me in my office, 3PM today.”

As you read his message your little human heart almost skipped a beat. It’s going to be awkward assisting him after you started growing feelings for him, feelings which he pretty clearly never reciprocated. You don’t really feel like meeting him, quite honestly.

So you didn’t meet him. He could call you if it was so urgent anyway.

The next day he made sure to run into you when you weren’t in the company of his friend.

„We must talk. Are you free now?”

„I am, for now. I have a class in 20 minutes.”

„I am sorry I did not talk to you about it sooner. Our last date was everything I could ask for. It would be a shame if you were seeing anyone else now. Are you free this afternoon?”

„Oh…um…how should I put this… if you really enjoyed it that much how come you were avoiding me for weeks?”

„I will tell you everything later. I promise.”

• It is up to you to accept or decline him now, however his possessivenes will get the best of him in the following days. He’ll be waiting for you after classes just to talk to you. Sometimes he even gives you a rose. Why is he being so desperate now? Thankfully his pride doesn’t allow him to talk to Diavolo about the situation.

Mammon:

There you are, in his favourite pub, playing pool with two attractive demons plus a duo who appears to be a couple. He knows you can’t play pool very well; it was most definitely not your idea to come here and play. Then who’s? Are you on a date? That cannot be happening.

Yes, he stopped spending time with you but it hasn’t been that long, has it??

He checked your message which you sent about 4 days ago. Surely not much time has passed since!

He ordered himself AND YOU a drink and didn’t hesitate to go up to you.

„Heyy, watcha up to? This ones for ya.”

„Thanks Mammon-„

„So who’re ya here with?”

„I’m with my friend” you look at one of the members of the couple.

„And who’re these losers? Lemme join ya!” he said as he put his arm around your waist.

„Well actually we don’t know them. They were just here, playing.”

The night went by, Mammon did provide you support in the game, although he is not much of a pro himself either. He did his best.

„Sorry I didn’t text ya. I was hustlin at Hell’s Kitchen ya know, givin me sweet money for working nightshift.”

You didn’t really reply as it was still a bit hard to believe him.

„And I also got me a second hustle for the day. I needa get more money! I wanna take ya on some nice ass dates, not a stupid coffe from the machine again.”

• Even if you tell him so he won’t leave you alone for the night. • Which is nice as the unknown demons left already! Now you are for sure for him only!

Part 1.

Tumblr is out there making me fight for my life as I'm trying to edit this post

[jadeoru]

coffee beans.

synopsis: valentine's day was spent the same way every year: coffee, and studying, all while trying her best to avoid the happy couples in love. unfortunately, her tradition was interrupted by a clumsy pretty barista. or: kiyoko felt like she wasn't capable of feeling love, turns out she's just gay

warnings/tags: reader is a barista! fluff, meet-ugly, afab!reader, reader is referred to as a girl, kiyoko's pov, kiyoko is an anxious shy mess (me too), flirting (pathetic), kiyoko's gay awakening lmfao, kiyoko's a la dispute fan because i said so, poop jokes, i actually hate how this turned out but oh well, wrote this for the 3 kiyoko lovers of the world

wc: 3.5k words

now playing: very cliché but definitely girls - girl in red lmao 🎶

Kiyoko saw love as a waste of time. She lived her whole life in a society held together by the prospect of love. It chased her in many forms: her parents, her friends, music, art, - she knew it well. In her childhood, love was just another friend of hers; a familiar taste on her tongue, similar to her mother’s cooking. It was a feeling of home. But as she grew up, the flavour grew progressively more acrid; bitter. She watched as her friends changed, each of them infatuated by the weird feeling. Everyone around her had a crush on someone. Conversations with her friends quickly became dull. No one was the same as they got older. Everyone around her was falling in love; a victim of cupid's spell. She felt left out; ostracised. In her eyes, love seemed like a trap; a chain, connecting you to someone for the rest of your life. She never understood the appeal, and how everyone saw the cruel, suffocating feeling as a warm embrace - whirling inside of you. She was frustrated. It was stressful not knowing what was wrong with her - why she was so different from her peers. She tried relationships, they always felt wrong. She was asked out by 2 different guys, each time she said yes. She agreed not because the feeling was mutual, but because she hoped she could force herself to feel the same. In the end, she discovered that butterflies are just colourful moths that find home inside of your gut, and mess everything up as they inevitably rot away. Cupid shot Kiyoko with their arrow on multiple occasions; each time left her on the cusp of bleeding out. All everyone cared about was love. As everyone around her found their person, she found herself slowly left behind. Love was in the air, and she was allergic.

In a way, her friends felt bad for her. They didn’t understand, and honestly, neither did she. They frequently tried setting her up on dates. She met all kinds of guys, each one somewhat worse than the last. Every date felt so strange; something wasn’t right. Was that how all dates went? - That’s it? She honestly felt guilty. Her friends put so much effort into those dates, trying to find her soulmate. They genuinely cared about her. They wanted her to experience true love. She felt bad for being so difficult. It got to the point where she’d resort to pretending. She’d choose a random guy in her class, one that was objectively attractive, and led her friend’s to believe her poorly acted out infatuation was true love. A part of her hoped that by lying to her friends, she could lie to herself, and believe it. With fingers crossed, she prayed for her to finally succeed, She hoped that maybe, she’d finally experience the warmth of her heart pounding in her chest. 

Graduation passed her by; it never worked.

To her, it was pointless. She tried it so many times, and in the end, she was always left unsatisfied. She lost faith in her search for love ages ago, and honestly stopped believing in it. Instead of flowers and holding hands with someone, love found her in other strange ways. To her, love was the cat that always met with her on her way to college, or when she found a song that she related to deeply. Love was the face of her mother when she was accepted into college. Love was spending time by herself; writing mediocre poetry, back pressed almost comfortably against a tree. With the exception of her father, love was never the face of a man. That was something she never came to terms with until her early adult years. That was something she thought she'd never understand;

She was wrong.

February was the worst. As if the people around her couldn’t get even more annoying, someone had the bright idea to make a whole day about love. She hated it. The commute to town was even more unbearable than it usually was. Instead of being surrounded by groaning strangers that had too much to drink last night; definitely did not get any sleep, mother’s carrying their screaming babies, the annoying screeching noise that erupted from the train every time it came to a halt, she was surrounded by cheesy lovers that flirted way too loudly. Noise-cancelling headphones were the greatest purchase she ever made.

The train to town was almost worse than the bustling, busy streets. Almost. As if her day couldn’t get any worse, all of her favourite places to spend her lunch were overrun, infected by insufferable couples. She turned her nose up with negativity. She wasn’t mad at them, if anything, she was envious. Why did she have to spend this magical holiday alone? It was unfair. She wanted not just to be loved, but to love. Her head spiralled every time she questioned herself;  she never thought about it too much to prevent her from the gnawing pit that grew within her. It took a few miserable Valentine’s Day’s for her to cultivate a steady ‘celebration’ routine; A survival plan: she would take the train at 8:20, which would be significantly less busy than the one she usually got, put on her headphones, blasted La Dispute for the entire duration of the train ride while staring out the window, and then scurried her way through the hectic crowds to her favorite, quaint, quiet, family-owned coffee shop. There, she would grab the biggest, strongest coffee they had (with a generous amount of caramel syrup, to satiate her sweet tooth), and ploughed through her assignments with peaceful relief etched into every line her pen wrote. 

That was how she spent every Valentine’s Day without fail - Without interruption. She finally had a stable routine that wouldn’t make her feel like a dysfunctional human. A routine that wouldn’t make her feel like there was something wrong with her. A distraction from the onslaught of love that crept up behind her; always facing her back, never once meeting her face to face. Up until now, it almost always went smoothly. It almost worked. She got off the train with high hopes, a subtle smile on her features as she silently appreciated the lyricism of the song she had on shuffle. She had only one notification on her phone: a warning to turn her volume down. All of her friends were busy spending time with their person. Of course they were too busy to text her. With a sigh, she increased the volume to the loudest it could go, and drowned out every thought and jealousy that plagued her mind. She didn’t care about damaging her hearing. At least she wouldn’t have to listen to grown adults talking and cooing to each other like babies. She hated that.

The walk to the coffee shop was fine. She kept to her side of the footpath, and held stern eye contact with the pavement. The cracks in the concrete were way more interesting than the romance that clouded the public anyways. Turning the door-handle, she silently rehearsed her order in her mind, before making her way to the counter. It was relatively quiet; empty. That’s how it normally was. This place was her escape from reality. It was small, quiet, the music they played was nice, and the baristas were always so polite to her. However, as she walked up to the counter, she was unable to recognise the barista behind the register. Was she new? She must’ve been, Kiyoko went there at least three times a week, and never once had she seen her. She wasn’t upset though, not in the slightest. She just hoped she would be as nice as the others. She watched attentively as the girl took the order of the person in front of her. She was smiling widely after each sentence that fled her lips. Not a fake customer-service smile, but a real genuine one. Kiyoko admired that. She continued to watch as she took the money from the customer and quickly placed it into the cash register. In one quick moment, Kiyoko found herself standing speechless directly in front of her. “Hey, what can I get for you?” She asked, giving Kiyoko absolutely zero time to mentally prepare herself to talk to her. She stuttered out her order with a strange feeling in her chest. She cringed at how stupid she sounded. “Of course! Would you like that in a takeaway cup?” She asked, flashing her a smile. It was so strange. Her smile seemed so familiar, so warm. The smile on her face almost made her feel at home; safe. She typed her order into the machine. Kiyoko was relieved - the eye contact was becoming too much for her. “Yes please.” She almost whispered, her voice unusually soft. She only nodded in response, letting out an “mhm!” in acknowledgement. She looked up at Kiyoko again, and she finally understood what it meant to have your heart skip a beat. “That’ll be 5,60! Are you paying with cash or card?”

The moment lasted only 30 seconds at most, and yet Kiyoko felt like she was suffering with a life-long crisis. As she handed her cash to her, she found herself questioning every choice she had ever made that led up to that moment. She couldn’t find the right words to describe how she felt. Conflicted? Confused? She couldn’t think of the right one. She couldn’t think of anything, besides the feeling of her hand touching hers for a split second, as she handed the money to her. She placed the money inside the register just like she did with the last customer. But, unlike she did with them, she leaned over the counter - propping her head up with her hands.

“It’ll be ready in about 5 minutes, pretty.”

With bright red cheeks and wobbly knees, she nodded her head, and almost sprinted to the pick-up counter.

There are a lot of things you could do in 5 minutes. You could listen to a song, count the tiles on the floor, or even count each second down to the last minute. Kiyoko chose neither of those. Instead, she stared at the floor, replaying the interaction in her head over a hundred times. She wasn’t entirely sure what was wrong with her, but one thing she knew for certain was she never felt that way about someone before. Ever. Those five minutes were spent questioning her entire existence. She struggled to come to an obvious conclusion. As it reached the tip of her tongue, her name was called out.

She spoke her name in a way that drove her crazy. The way each syllable rolled off her tongue had her worried she was going to suffer a heart attack. She quickly whipped her head around to face the barista again. She was suddenly very aware of how uncomfortably warm her face was. “You know… your name is almost as pretty as your face.” She almost whispered, a grin widely displayed on her cheeks as her eyes consumed Kiyoko whole. She leaned over the counter again, holding the cup out to Kiyoko. She really liked when she did that - for some strange reason. Her compliment caught Kiyoko completely off guard, hitting her almost like an arrow to the heart. A stupid smile spread out on her face. She wasn’t sure how else to react; It wasn’t socially acceptable to kick your feet and squeal in the middle of a coffee shop. Muttering a shy, “thank you so much!”, she held her hand out to grab the coffee from her. But, before she could get a stable grip on the cup, the barista let go of it too soon, almost out of embarrassment. In doing so, it caused the large, hot coffee to fall directly onto Kiyoko’s hand-made, wool sweater; crashing onto it like a boiling wave, spilling all over her and soaking her in the warm liquid.

There was a moment of mutual shock between them, a brief few seconds spent silently staring at each other. She did a terrible job at hiding the disgusted, uncomfortable look on her face as the coffee seeped through her sweater, ruining the shirt she was wearing under it, and sticking to her bare skin. She looked down to assess the damage done to her clothes. They were ruined. A big, attention-grabbing stain was spread unevenly on her sweater. This was the worst. She looked up at the barista, who looked even more terrified than she was. Her hands flew to cover her mouth, but Kiyoko could see the guilty, fearful look in her eyes. They stayed like that for a few seconds. Uncomfortable silence engulfed the room; like time stopped. Kiyoko didn’t look away from the barista, but she could tell that other people were definitely staring at the two of them. She wanted the ground to swallow her up. The barista was the first one to speak up.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She could tell by the tone of her voice just how serious she was. Kiyoko opened her mouth to speak, to quickly forgive her. She just wanted to go home. Embarrassment enveloped her entirely, and the strong scent of coffee attacked her nostrils in an almost painful way, but the barista spoke up again. “Wait here, I’ll go get you some tissues!” She pleaded, raising her hands cautiously. She nodded in response, watching in silence as the barista urgently dashed through the door behind her. She silently cursed herself for not staying silent. She wiped her hand on her sweater, before holding it to her face to look at it. Her fingers were stained brown. At least her sweater didn’t absorb it all. She waited at the counter for the barista to return like a deer in headlights. She didn’t close the door to her break-room, so Kiyoko could just barely see her.

She was really pretty. Like, really really pretty. Even in her coffee-stained apron (She’s probably done this before to someone else - Kiyoko almost laughed at the thought), and her hair all messy from a probably stressful day, she was beautiful. Even as she frantically tore apart her break-room, Kiyoko couldn’t help but feel her heart whirling around at her irresistible pulchritude. A dumb smile plastered across Kiyoko's face. Technically, she should feel annoyed. She loved that sweater to death. But, in a weird way, she was glad. She knew that from then on, every time she looked at that stain, she would see a trace of her. Although she wasn’t entirely sure what any of her feelings meant, she didn’t have the time to care. For now, she would just let herself feel whatever feelings she felt, without the need to understand. She would have a crisis later. For now, she needed to befriend the clumsy, pretty barista. 

She speed-walked back to the counter, holding tissues out to her. Realistically, tissues would not reverse any of the damage, but it was the thought that counted. “Here. I’m so sorry about that.” She said, lips curving into an apologetic smile so nice Kiyoko couldn’t help but mirror it. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” She answered, staring at her lips for an embarrassingly long moment, before finally returning to her eyes. She reached out to take the tissues from her hand. Have her fingers always been this shaky? The lack of sleep she got the night before must’ve been affecting her mind, because she could’ve sworn you grazed your hand over hers purposefully. She must’ve imagined it. She awkwardly wiped her sweater with it, staining the tissue in the process. The stain didn’t budge.

The barista cleared her throat. “Would it help if I told you I still think you’re really pretty?” She fidgeted with her hands, an empathetic look in her eyes as she silently hoped to uplift Kiyoko’s spirits. Totally not because she was also insanely into her. Totally. Kiyoko almost dropped the tissue. Hell, she almost dropped her jaw at the sudden flirtatious remark. Her face went hot as the line between a friendly compliment and flirting was incredibly unclear to her. Was she just being nice? “Maybe it would.” She began, raising her hands, leaving the stain on full display. and tilting her head with a smile. “Would it help if I told you I think you’re really cute?” Kiyoko made a mental note to learn how to flirt later. The barista smiled, letting out an airy chuckle. “Well, it wouldn’t help the sweater I ruined, but it would help my ruined confidence.” She joked, looking at the ground. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed, it was my fault.” Kiyoko stated matter-of-factly, the girl looked at her like she had two heads. “Nope. It was my fault, cutie. I won't accept any other opinions.” She said with a wink - a wink that almost made Kiyoko fall over. Her knees were immensely weak, and she couldn’t tell if it was from the nickname, the wink, or both.

She sighed with defeat knowing not to debate with her any further. “Does it look like I just shit myself?” She asked with a laugh. The barista laughed with her, which only sorta, kind of, slightly, made her heart flutter. “Nah, more like someone shit on you.” She responded, scratching her chin in playful thought. “I’m seriously so sorry about that by the way. Let me make you another coffee, free of charge. Is there anything else I can do to help?” She asked, her words laced with genuine interest. She grabbed an empty cup, writing something on it before turning around and beginning to make her drink. Kiyoko waved her hands dismissively. “Don’t be sorry, accidents happen! - At least now I have an excuse to talk to you longer.” If she didn’t stutter her way through that sentence, it probably would’ve sounded way less pathetic. Unfortunately, Kiyoko felt she wasn’t anything but pathetic. She wasn’t aware of how it took everything in the barista not to get on one knee and propose to her at that very second. “You have a point. Maybe it’s a good thing I spilled it on you.” She chuckled, turning back around to face her again, handing her the new drink - carefully this time. 

“Um, this might be incredibly out of line, but could I maybe get your number?” She smiled nervously at Kiyoko. Normally, whenever a guy asked her for her number, it made her scoff and roll her eyes. But she was different, Kiyoko never nodded her head so enthusiastically in her life. “Yeah, of course!” She did little to hide the excitement laced in her words. The barista smiled the widest she’d seen that morning. Whispering a quiet “thank you,” she handed Kiyoko her phone, and she shakily typed in her number.

“Oh uh, I never got your name?” Through a smile, she responded, “it’s Y/n.”

“Y/n..” she repeated, handing her her phone back, “that’s a really pretty name. It suits you.” With every sentence it was as if their smiles grew tenfold; heightened by mutual happiness. “Thanks Kiyoko, your name is lovely too.” “Shimizu.” She corrected abruptly, y/n furrowed her brow in response. “Please, call me Shimizu.” she almost begged, craving to taste her name on her tongue. “Well then, Shimizu. It was lovely meeting you. I’ll stop bothering you and let you enjoy your coffee, for now.” She winked again, doing very little absolutely nothing to help convince Kiyoko she’s still straight. “For now?” She asked, confused. “Well I’ll definitely be texting you after my shift, so, for now, I will grant you peace and quiet.” She laughed her words out, to which Kiyoko reciprocated.

“I definitely won’t enjoy it when I could be talking to you instead.” Kiyoko took a sip from her drink. If she wasn’t sure then, the deliciousness of her coffee definitely confirmed just how in love Kiyoko was with her barista. She laughed, “Call me whenever you want someone to spill coffee on you. I’ve proven myself to be very good at that”

“Oh believe me, I will.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Ok so totally wait til you feel better. But I saw you ask for stuff a few days ago (ok like 9) and I love you so here I am.

Vessel (because I love him) and reader playing video games online together. Idk I don’t even have a plot for you. Cute and sweet, then smutty if you want, because, yeah.

This would be great with iii too though.

Only if you want of course. And if you haven’t done something like this already. And DEFINTIELY only when you feel better. No rush🤗🤗🤗💙💙💙💙

Thank you for being patient and for being so sweet. I’m so glad that you are enjoying it!🤍

Play along

It was stupid honestly. He rarely played online in open rooms. A part of him was paranoid that someone might recognize his voice. So he stuck to playing in private rooms with just the boys from the band and some of the mutual buddies they shared. That was however until one evening it ended up being just him and III and playing, one on one was pretty much impossible. So after some convincing from III Vessel had finally given in.

The lobby wasn’t big, only a couple of people joining in. “Good evening team”, III spoke into his mike. Earning a couple of hellos back before a female voice joined in making Vessel’s ears perk up. “Do we have a girl among us?”, III teased, earning a slight giggle, “Are you opposed?”, your voice drifted back into Vessel’s headset making the apple of his cheeks turn pink. He felt pathetic almost. But their schedule left little time for dating and the lifestyle brought a handful of fake people into their lives.

“We splint in teams of two?”, someone called out, followed by agreements. “Fire, I set the random pick”, the guy called, “May the best duo win”. A part of Vessel wanted to protest but before he could say anything his screen switched, generating the new room for just his teammate and him. He waited for it anxiously. Partly hoping to see III’s name popping up. What were the odds?

But they were not in his favor when the tiny camera flashed in the corner of his screen revealing your face. He felt like a teenager with a first crush as he stared at you. “Hello, stranger”, you smiled at the camera, waving, “You’re not putting your camera on?”, fixing your headset you looked straight at the camera and straight through Vessel’s heart. “Uh… Broken?”, his answer came out more like a question than a statement making you chuckle once more. “Okay, stranger danger, I guess I will have to trust that you are not some weirdo who’s trying only here to snap pics of me”, you frowned playfully but it still made Vessel panic, “No, I… It’s not like that, I just”, he ranted on. “I’m only joking”, you cut into his thread of thought, “It’s good if you don’t want to turn it on, I used to play with no camera for a while”, you reassured him. “Really?”, Vessel asked, leaning closer to his screen. “Yep”, you smile popping the p, “It can feel strange but maybe if we land in the same lobby in the future you might be more down for it”. He smiled slightly at the inclination of future games without even realizing it. “Now let’s kick some ass please, your friend seemed too cocky for his own good”, you wiggled your controller in the air, making Vessel chuckle, “Tell me about it”.

Time truly escaped you both, especially when everyone settled on keeping their teams as they were for the next rounds. It felt easy. Natural. From a lot more silence in the beginning to light conversation flowing through almost the whole round. And where Vessel got nervous you would naturally cut in, filling in the silence and for the first time, Vessel didn’t mind it. Didn’t mind the noise of someone talking.

“That was fun”, you said after the last round everyone agreed to play, “You’re really good, but then I had a feeling that you would”. Vessel frowned slightly, “What do you mean by that?”, “Just knew that you had something in you to play along”, you waved him off, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I like your eyes”, Vessel blurted out, eyes going big at the realization of the words that had slipped out, “Sorry, that's bloody creepy”, he grunted. “No, I…”, you muttered, “Thank you, I never thought that they were anything special”. “They are really pretty”, Vessel was quick to reassure. “Can I see your eyes? Eventually I mean”, you looked hopeful as you glanced up, making Vessel swallow, “Sure”, it was barely audible but you seemed to catch it as the smile spread onto your lips, “Well then I will look forward to it. I’ll drop you a message so you can find me here”, you smiled, making Vessel smile too, “See you around, pretty eyes”, he breathed out, genuinely looking forward to playing along with you.

[badkitty3000]

☕Love In The Time Of Cholera And Coffee ☕

Part One: Chapters 1-6

Five x Female Reader, Klaus x Female Reader

You and Klaus are in a casual relationship. No ties, just sex. When you start spending a lot of time at his apartment, you somehow manage to break through his brother's prickly outer shell. He seems to like you, or at least tolerate you the best that Five can. When you start to realize that maybe there is more than just mutual friendship between the two of you, it opens up a lot of feelings and unanswered questions. And a lot of problems.

This story contains sexually explicit material! (But also lots of humor and fluff)

Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Multi-Chapter Fic, Cross-posted on AO3. Link to my Master List.

This story alternates between the reader's POV and Five's POV. I will update a chapter at a time going forward. If you'd like to read it on AO3's format, here is the Link to story on AO3.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter One: Motivation, Routine, and Caffeine

You have been sort of dating Klaus for several weeks already. Not exactly his girlfriend and not exactly not his girlfriend. You are something in between and you are ok with that. You don’t need a major commitment and you are content with a casual relationship. Maybe not forever, but for right now it suits your needs. Klaus is fun and easygoing, and always makes you feel relaxed. He can be selfish sometimes, that is true, but you are willing to overlook it for the most part. As long as he doesn’t bring his selfishness into the bedroom, which so far he has not, then you could live with it.

The sex is good. Which is probably the real reason you’ve been hanging around so long. Without the sex, there isn’t a whole lot keeping you there. You don’t have a lot in common, except that you both like watching old English-dubbed Samurai movies on TV late at night while passing a joint back and forth. You don’t even like smoking that much, but Klaus has a way of making everything seem alluring and sexy, so you never hesitate when he takes a long hit off a joint and hands it over to you.

You spend a lot of your time at his apartment. You work a lot of hours, and sometimes have to work late, and his apartment is much closer than yours. That’s actually where you had met Klaus, at the bakery and coffee shop that you manage. He had come in for a tea and started making small talk with you. Before you knew it, he had you cracking up when he made a joke about eating your muffin. You weren’t even offended; that’s just part of the magic of Klaus. He can say pretty much anything and get away with it.

It doesn’t hurt that he’s one of the most beautiful men on the planet. Honestly, sometimes you’re jealous of how every single piece of clothing looks amazing on him and he never seems to have a bad hair day. Being with Klaus is like walking around in the company of some ancient Greek sculpture come to life. He draws eyes wherever he goes, from both men and women, and he’s never shy about returning the looks, either.

He likes to go shopping with you to help you pick out clothes, and he always lets you know if they look good on you or not. He’s funny, and sweet, and it’s very easy to fall under his spell. With Klaus you get the best of both worlds; a fun best friend that you can share clothes and gossip with, but who you also get to fuck.

That initial run-in with him eventually led to a few hook ups, and now you are a regular visitor at his place. It works out well. He always stays up late, so it’s no big deal if you swing by on your way out of work at midnight.

You are also working a lot in order to hopefully buy the shop from the current owner. Soon, you’ll have enough cash, along with a loan from the bank, to buy it. And you already run the place, anyway. It has always been a dream of yours to be able to own your own business.

So, between the long hours and financial preparation for the purchase, you don’t have a whole lot of free time. Most of what you do have, you spend with Klaus since it’s convenient and fun. Which, as it turns out, means you are also spending a lot of time with his brother.

You knew from the beginning who Klaus was. You know all about The Umbrella Academy and the Hargreeves family, because everyone does. Not that they’re really a household name anymore, but you know all about their history and their powers. So, when you found Klaus shared an apartment with Number Five, you were intrigued. You knew he had gone missing for a long time, but didn’t really know the whole story. Klaus had filled you in one night, though, and you were left feeling sorry and sad for him. That is, until you met him.

The first time you were there, sitting on the couch with Klaus watching TV, Five had teleported directly into the living room and scared the living shit out of you. After you screamed, he looked at you like you were some sort of flea-ridden possum that had gotten inside the house when someone left the door open.

“Holy shit!” you had shrieked, clutching at your chest and trying to catch your breath.

Without addressing you in any way, or introducing himself, Five glared at you, then turned to Klaus with a scowl. “Keep your feet off the coffee table. And stop leaving the goddamn milk out.”

Then he was gone again, in a swoosh of light, leaving you staring at an empty space.

“Wow, that was intense. Does he always do that?” you had asked Klaus.

Klaus just laughed and nodded, putting his feet back up on the coffee table. “Oh yeah, that’s just Five. You get used to it.”

“He seems kind of scary. And angry.”

“Fivey? Oh no, not at all. My big brother is really just a mushy little teddy bear all dressed up in a three-piece suit. Trust me, his bark is much bigger than his bite.” Then Klaus creased his eyebrows together in thought and pointed his joint at you. “But, maybe try not to piss him off too much. Just in case.”

Because of what you learned about Five’s time travel mishaps, he looked younger than Klaus and a few years younger than you. You were somewhere in between the two of them. But Five definitely had the grumpy, older brother thing down. After you got used to him appearing and disappearing without warning, you started to loosen up around him a little bit. Even though Klaus told you he was really a softy inside, you have a hard time believing it from the way he acts around you. After several weeks straight of being ignored, you decide to call him out on his bullshit.

Five appears out of a portal of blue directly in front of you as you are on your way to the bathroom. As usual, he gives you his signature sneer and is about to walk past you when you grab him by the arm. He looks down at his arm where your hand is and then back at your face; a murderous glint in his eyes.

“What the hell is your problem?” you ask him, doing your very best not to show your nerves.

“My problem? I don’t have a problem, thank you. Now let go of me.”

His voice is hard, but he also hasn’t tried to pull away, and you keep your hand on him. His upper arm is much firmer and solid than you had expected and you can feel his bicep flexing under your fingers.

“Why are you always so rude? I haven’t done anything to you.”

Five rolls his eyes and sighs. “Christ. Look, I’m sorry if I’m not dying to be all buddy-buddy with you. I learned a while ago that it’s not exactly worth getting to know my brother’s flavor of the month.”

You know he’s meaning to insult you, but you end up laughing instead. It’s no secret that Klaus is a total man-whore and you’re fine with that. It’s nothing serious and if another man came along that you were interested in, Klaus wouldn’t mind that, either. In fact, he’d probably want to meet him.

“Look, your mean old man act is wearing a little thin. It wouldn’t kill you to be somewhat nice once in a while. Maybe even get to know me? Most people think I’m a fucking delight.”

Five gives a sarcastic snort of laughter and looks back at your hand on his arm. This time, you let go. “How about this, sweetheart? If you’re still around next week, I’ll consider finding out how much of a fucking delight you are.”

You smile and hold out your hand, ignoring his condescension. “Alright, old man. Deal.”

You notice a tiny twitch of the corner of his mouth, but then it’s gone again. He looks cautiously at your hand, like he’s not sure what to do with it at first, and then he gives it a quick shake with his own before muttering something under his breath and blinking away again.

It is exactly one week later, and you haven’t forgotten Five’s deal. He has been slightly more cordial to you in the past seven days, but he still doesn’t take the time to stick around more than two minutes to talk to you. So, you’re practically beaming with satisfaction that you get to rub it in his face and actually make him talk to you.

You corner him in the kitchen one morning, as he’s pouring a cup of coffee. “Hi!” you exclaim loudly as his back is turned to you, and you laugh when he almost spills his coffee everywhere.

“Fuck!” he yells, before turning around and glaring at you.

You bounce on your toes and clap. “Guess what today is?”

“I can only hope that it’s National Leave Your Boyfriend’s Brother The Fuck Alone Day?”

You give a fake laugh and shake your head. “No, dummy. And he’s not my boyfriend, anyway. It’s been a week and I’m still here, right in your grumpy little face. So, now you have to talk to me.”

“I most certainly do not,” he states dryly before taking a sip of his coffee and then making a face of disgust. “Damn it, Klaus cannot make a decent pot of coffee to save his life.”

“Oh my gosh, that’s what I told him! It’s the worst!”

That seems to pique Five’s interest a little and he gives a small smile. “He buys the cheapest shit ever. Everyone knows the secret to good coffee is –"

“Quality coffee beans.”

He looks stunned that you said exactly what he was going to say and he lowers his mug. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“See? If you had taken the time to know me a little, you would know that I actually manage a café. I know all about good coffee.”

You don’t know him well enough to recognize all of his expressions, but if you could guess, you’d say he looks somewhat impressed.

You continue on. “And, since I know firsthand that Klaus’s coffee is total shit, I have started bringing my own with me. Wait right here.”

You leave, go into Klaus’s bedroom, and pull out a small bag of coffee grounds from the overnight bag you brought with you. When you return to the kitchen, Five is still waiting there, and you hold it up for him to see.

“Now, move out of the way so I can dump that swamp water out and make us something good.”

Five actually does what you say, and moves out of your way, allowing you to clean out the pot and fill the coffee maker up with fresh water and your special grounds. He doesn’t say anything, but he’s watching you intently. It’s slightly unnerving but you try to ignore it.

When you’re done and all you can do is wait for the coffee to brew, the two of you stand on opposite sides of the kitchen, leaning against the countertop. Five has his arms crossed over his chest and you start fidgeting with your hands, picking at your nails and cuticles. Your boldness from just a few minutes ago has faded.

“So, you’re the manager of a café?” Five finally asks, breaking the silence.

“Yes. Soon to be owner, if things go well.”

Five raises his eyebrows and nods his head in approval. “Sounds like a smart move.”

“I hope so. It’s a big step, but I’m ready for it. I want to be my own boss.”

Five nods his head again, but doesn’t say anything. After another minute of silence, the coffee maker beeps. Thankful for something to do, you pull out two new clean mugs and pour each of you a cup. When you hand one to Five, he takes it from you and you notice his hands. They look strong, with taught tendons running down the backs and long, slender fingers. You’ve always had a thing for hands.

“Holy shit,” Five says, his forehead creased with lines.

“What? No good?” you ask, genuinely surprised that he wouldn’t like it.

“No, quite the opposite. This is perfect!”

You laugh and hold up your mug. “And you didn’t want to get to know me.”

Five makes a face that kind of resembles a smile and takes another drink. “Well, if I’d known you made coffee like this…”

You laugh again and shake your head. “Klaus insists you are just a big teddy bear, and maybe I’m beginning to see it. Underneath all that crabbiness, anyway.”

“I’m not crabby,” Five insists, giving you the crabbiest frown ever.

“Oh, ok. Sorry. Curmudgeonly? Would you prefer that?”

To your surprise, he actually laughs. You’ve never heard him laugh before and it catches you off guard. But you like the way his face breaks into a big grin and the sound that rises up out of his chest like it’s been stored in there for a very long time and is finally being released.

“Well, I’ll be damned…did you just make Senor Cinco laugh?”

You and Five both turn and see Klaus sauntering into the kitchen to join you, wearing nothing but a small pair of bright blue underpants. He sidles up to you and throws an arm around your shoulder, leaning down and giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“I did!” you exclaim with a smile, putting your arm around his naked waist.

“That just might be a new record. Usually, it takes at least three months, plus a few thinly-veiled death threats, before you get an honest to goodness laugh out of him.”

Five rolls his eyes and his face returns to its normal seriousness. “Actually, Klaus, I just don’t laugh at anything you have to say. Because you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Aw…I love you too, Fivey,” Klaus responds before he reaches out and ruffles Five’s hair.

Five bristles and runs a hand over the mess Klaus made, trying to restore his normal style.

“Well, as much as I’d love to continue this thrilling conversation, I’ll be taking my leave now. Enjoy your day doing…what do you two do, anyway? Contract various STDs and debate the nuances of Scooby Doo?”

You let out a loud cackle at that, which makes Five smile crookedly in your direction; right before he blinks away, leaving Klaus rolling his eyes and you with an inexplicably warm feeling in your chest.

Another week has passed and you and Klaus are still playing the no-ties dating game. Since you had turned Five on to your coffee making skills, the two of you have developed a bit of a friendship. While Klaus likes to stay up late and sleep in the next day, you are up early. Despite your long work hours, you generally don’t need a lot of sleep to function. You run mostly on motivation, routine, and caffeine. Which, coincidentally, so does Five.

Because you are both up in the early morning hours, you and Five will end up meeting in the kitchen when the sun is barely above the horizon. He will sit quietly at the small kitchen table and watch while you go about making coffee for the two of you. Neither of you say much until the coffee is finished brewing and has been poured. Then you sit down across from Five and he’ll actually engage in conversation.

At first, it was like pulling teeth to get Five to answer any questions, but after a while he warmed up. Now, you’re pretty sure he actually likes sitting down and talking to you. This morning is no different, and you and Five are in the kitchen, comfortably talking and sipping coffee when Klaus wanders in.

He yawns and stretches his sinewy body before flashing you a smile. “Morning, babe. I feel like waffles. You guys want some waffles?”

Five says nothing, but you smile back up at Klaus. “As long as you aren’t suggesting I get up and make them, then yes, I’m up for some waffles. We can go to that diner down the street.”

Klaus comes over and starts running his hands through your hair, massaging your scalp in the process and combing out the tangles with his fingers. It feels nice and relaxing and you close your eyes. When you open them again, your gaze lands on Five and your eyes meet. Something about the way he is looking at you makes your face flush with embarrassment and you gently push Klaus’s hands away, laughing.

“Quit it,” you say lightly, even though under normal circumstances you love it when Klaus plays with your hair.

He takes a step back, unfazed, and goes to pour himself a cup of coffee. Five is still watching you and you have to avert your eyes just to think straight. You scoot your chair back and stand up, turning to Klaus.

“So, are we going or what?”

Klaus shrugs. “Sure, you buying?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t I always?”

“Yes, you do. And then I pay you back in a much more physical way.”

“You realize that makes you sound like you’re prostituting yourself for breakfast foods.”

“I’ve done a lot worse for a lot less.”

You laugh and then you see Five get up and start to make his way out of the kitchen. “Five wait!”

He stops and turns to you, coffee cup still in hand, and eyes you up. “Yeah?”

“Come with us.”

“I don’t think so. You two toddlers go ahead.”

You frown and jut your hip out. “First of all, stop insulting us. Second, name one good reason you don’t want to come with us. I mean, you do eat, don’t you? Or do you survive solely on black coffee and sarcasm?”

You see that faint smile playing on Five’s lips again. The one that gives you a little flutter in your stomach when you see it; because you know you’re one of the few that can actually get him to break.

“Yes, I do eat. If surviving on coffee and sarcasm were a thing, it would have made my life in the apocalypse much easier.”

He’s kidding, but you still feel bad about your comment and you cringe a little at the mention of his traumatic past. Klaus, though, just waves a hand in the air dramatically.

“Come on, Fivey! What’s not to like about spending time with your favorite brother, while also getting some free waffles?”

“Pleeeaase?” you beg while batting your lashes exaggeratedly in Five’s direction.

After another annoyed eye roll and a huffy sigh, Five relents. “Fine! I will go to your stupid diner and eat your stupid waffles.”

“That a boy!” Klaus goes to slap Five on the back, but he has already blinked out of the kitchen.

“I hope it’s ok that I invited him?” you ask.

“Of course it’s ok. I can’t believe he said yes, though. I’ve been trying to get him out and socializing forever. It’s like you have a special magic touch with him. You’re like the Number Five Whisperer.”

You laugh. “Yeah, right. I think he just wanted breakfast.”

Klaus shakes his head. “No, really. I’ve seen him around you. He actually listens to you and isn’t mean.”

“He’s mean to me all the time!”

“Well, compared to what the rest of the world gets from him, that’s nothing. He once called me the human version of a shart.”

When you can’t help doubling over with laughter at that, Klaus puts a hand on his hip. “It was very hurtful.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s hilarious. Say what you want, but the man is funny. Whether he intends to be or not.”

“Just you wait. When he starts comparing you to shitting his pants, then we’ll see how funny you think he is.”

Once you are all showered and dressed, the three of you walk over to the diner for breakfast. You are planning on going directly to work from there, so you have your bag slung over your shoulder. The weight of it is evident by the way you’re slumped to one side while you lug it around, and Five eyes it curiously as you slide into a booth. You and Klaus are on one side while Five is across from you.

“What do you have in there? Bricks?” Five asks you as he picks up a menu.

“Yes. I carry around a bag full of bricks. One never knows when one might need to perform an emergency masonry job.”

You see Five’s lips purse together in a failed attempt at trying not to smile, avoiding your eyes by pretending to peruse the menu.

Klaus lets out a loud hoot of laughter and puts his arm around your shoulders. “Looks like you may have met your match in the snide comment department, Fivey.”

Five glances up and flicks a stray piece of hair off his face. “Doubtful. I am, and will always remain, the king of snide comments.”

You and Five exchange amused looks and you peer down at your own menu. A waitress comes to the table to take your orders and Klaus flashes her one of his beautiful smiles and you can see she is instantly smitten by him.

“A round of waffles and coffee for the table, please.” Klaus gestures to all three of you. “And make sure to give the bill to my sugar mama over here.”

The waitress gives you a funny look and you shrug with a smile before she wanders off to put in the order.

“Klaus!” Five hisses, leaning forward.

“What?”

“If you can’t pay for your own breakfast, I will. Don’t make her do it.”

Klaus looks genuinely taken aback. “Why? She offered.”

“Because it’s…” Five pauses and sighs and if you thought he was capable of embarrassment that might have been what he was conveying. “…it’s not gentlemanly.”

You chew on your bottom lip and look down in your lap so that you don’t laugh, but also so that Five doesn’t see how completely shocked you are at this statement.

Klaus frowns at Five. “I forget sometimes that you’re an old coot under that sleek body of yours. Don’t be so old-fashioned, Fivey. The times they are a-changin’.” He turns to you. “Besides, am I nothing but a gentleman?”

They are both looking at you for some sort of response and you laugh nervously. “Yes, you are mostly a gentleman. And I don’t mind paying; I did offer.” Klaus looks smug and Five rolls his eyes. “However,” you point a finger at each of them, “neither one of you offered to carry my bag for me on the way here.”

You watch with satisfaction as both of their mouths hang open for a second before they realize they have nothing to say to that. Just then, the waitress comes by with your coffees and starts to set them down in front of you on the tabletop. As you smirk to yourself, you hear both men utter a soft “sorry” under their breath before taking a sip from their mugs.

Five clears his throat. “You never did answer me. What are you carrying around in there?”

You glance at the overstuffed tote bag next to you. “Well, some extra clothes and toiletries, but also my laptop and a bunch of notebooks and file folders. I’m applying for a large bank loan and need to make sure all of my ducks are in a row.”

“Oh, that’s right. You’re planning on buying your café.”

Klaus leans back against the booth. “Yeah, she’s cute and smart. Hey, another thing you two have in common!”

Five takes another drink and mutters over his mug. “I am not cute.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Klaus looks thoughtful as he scans Five up and down. “You’ve got more of that angry, smoldering, sex god look about you.”

“Shut up, Klaus.”

“He’s right,” you hear yourself saying and your cheeks immediately burn when you realize you said it out loud. You notice Five’s face reddens a little as well when he looks at you in surprise.

Klaus is oblivious and he clinks his coffee mug against yours in a toasting gesture. “See? Everyone thinks so. Now, the next step is to share some of that super sexiness with another human being and not just your fist.”

With his face still flushed, Five clenches his jaw even tighter. “Shut. Up. Klaus.”

“I know it’s convenient and doesn’t require you to leave the house, but choking the old chicken doesn’t replace the need for human contact. It’s nice to flog your log once in a while, but you need to branch out. Let someone else take Fivey Junior for a spin. Know what I mean?”

You are certain you are about to witness a murder firsthand as you watch Five pick up his butter knife in a clenched fist, leaning dangerously close to his brother across the table, when the waitress comes back with your food. As she plunks down the plates in front of everyone, Klaus continues to dig his own grave.

“Hey there,” he squints at the waitress’ name tag, “Sandra. What do you think of my brother over here?”

Sandra looks visibly uncomfortable as she glances from Klaus’s beaming face to Five’s murderous one and back again.

“I’m sorry?”

“On a scale of one to ten, with one being you would not bang him if he were the last man on earth, to ten being you want to jump his brittle old bones right here in this diner booth, how would you rate him?”

You sink down in your seat and close your eyes, thinking that maybe if you aren’t actually looking when Five rams that knife through Klaus’s neck, you won’t have to answer too many questions from the cops. You risk opening one eye a slit and you can see Five fuming, nostrils flared and neck veins bulging. The poor waitress is not sure what to do as she stands there awkwardly, so you decide to jump in.

You laugh theatrically. “He’s just kidding! I bet him $20 to say that. I’m sorry…I didn’t think he’d actually do it.”

Sandra relaxes a little and sighs with relief. “Oh, ok. No worries. Enjoy your meal.”

As she walks away, you turn to Klaus with a glare.

“What?” he asks innocently.

“You’re terrible,” you tell him, disapprovingly.

“I’m trying to do the guy a favor and help him get his ex-assassin wiener wet!”

Suddenly, Five’s palm bangs on the table, making the plates and cutlery dance and clatter. You and Klaus both jump in your booth.

“I do not,” seethes Five, “need your help or anyone else’s for that matter.” He relaxes a bit, unclenching his jaw and rolling his shoulders back. His eyes pass over to you as he starts to cut into his waffle. One corner of his mouth curls up as he stabs a piece with his fork. “Fivey Junior is doing just fine, thank you,” he quips before taking a bite and giving you a quick wink.

Your stomach feels warm and fluttery all of a sudden and you let out a snort of laughter. The subject is dropped after that and Klaus eventually moves on to something else that involves his and Five’s apartment. Your mind wanders as you eat your food, staring into space as the two brothers chatter next to you. You didn’t mean for your mind to wander to that, but now that it was brought up, you find it front and center in your brain.

You find yourself wondering exactly what Five’s sexual situation is. You’ve never seen him with a woman, or a man, but he’s certainly good looking enough to get either one. Maybe his surly attitude turns people off? You know all about his unique situation, and so maybe he’s never had the opportunity to be with anyone else in that way. You steal a glance over at him, noticing the way the tendons in his forearms tighten and relax as he gestures while he talks and that warm feeling is back.

I wonder what kind of package he’s working with in those pants of his? He’s not a huge guy, but he sure as hell carries himself like he’s got a giant schlong. I would not be surprised if he was packing some serious equipment in there. I bet it could do some real damage…all that anger has to go somewhere. And I bet he knows how to use it, too. Probably could bang you right through a fucking wall –"

“Think twelve inches is too big?”

You drop your fork onto your plate with a loud clang as Five’s question snaps you out of your perverted daydream. Your face is suddenly very hot.

“What?” you ask in a wide-eyed panic.

Five and Klaus both give you a weird look.

“The shelving unit to put under the bathroom sink, remember I was telling you about them the other day? What do you think about the size?” Klaus explains.

“Oh, right. Uh…I don’t know,” you stammer.

Five turns back to Klaus. “It might be a little tight but I bet I could make it fit. Probably have to shove it in there really good, though.”

At that, you dissolve in a burst of nervous laughter that has the other two looking at you like you’ve lost your mind. You can’t stop laughing, though, and you cover your mouth with your hand while your body shakes uncontrollably.

Five and Klaus exchange confused glances. “Ok…weird,” Klaus says before going back to his waffles.

After a good thirty seconds of hyperventilating, you finally calm down enough and you wipe the tears from your eyes.

Five points a fork at you. “What the hell was that?”

You shake your head, suppressing another round of laughter. “Nothing, I was just thinking of something from earlier. You had to be there.”

“Clearly.”

After a few more minutes of silence, Klaus turns to you. “I know you’ve been worried about this loan and making sure you have everything in order. I’m no good at that kind of thing, but our boy Cinco over here probably is. Maybe he can look things over for you.”

“Oh!” You turn to Five. “Really? You’re good with finances and all that?”

“I’m good at everything, so by default I’m also good at finances,” he answers offhandedly, not looking up from his plate.

“Oh, right, silly me. I forgot, you’re a goddamn genius.”

He looks up and nods without a hint of irony. “Correct. I am.”

You roll your eyes. “Ok, never mind, sorry I asked.”

“Alright, don’t get all huffy. If you want me to look things over, I can do that.”

“Well, if it’s not cutting too much into your time of sucking your own dick, then that would be great.”

Klaus lets out a loud laugh and Five raises one eyebrow as he leans back and drapes his arm over the back of the booth with a smirk. “I think I can pencil you in somewhere.” He picks up his coffee mug, stopping just before he takes a drink. “Incidentally, that would have been another skill I could have used during those solitary years. But, alas, as brilliant as I am, I found I lack the flexibility.”

You bite at the inside of your cheek to stifle your laughter. “There’s a visual I don’t need.”

Klaus nearly chokes on his food. “Holy shit, did you actually try that? I’m not saying I haven’t myself, but I just didn’t think you…well, I guess there were a lot of lonely hours to kill, so like what did you try first? Rolling up in a ball, or –"

You slap a hand over his mouth. “Ok then! I can see this conversation is headed in a very weird direction, so I am just going to excuse myself and head to work now.”

After you gather up your bag, Klaus gets up to let you out of the booth. As you hoist the heavy tote over your shoulder, you address Five. “If you really are serious, I would be glad to have your help.”

“I was serious.”

“Thank you. Would you be available later today around 4? You can come by the café. I’ll even make you some coffee.”

“Sure. See you then.”

You give him a smile and then turn to Klaus. “See you later?”

“Absolutely. I’ll be around.”

Klaus leans down to kiss you, which is nothing out of the ordinary of course, but you feel weird being so affectionate in front of Five and you break the kiss off quicker than normal. You say goodbye to them both and as you go to leave, Klaus gives you a slap on the ass. When you turn to give him a fake scowl, you catch Five looking at you. He’s watching you with that intense look of his that you still have trouble reading the meaning behind. Whatever it is, though, you’re finding that you kind of like it.

Chapter Two: Fivey Junior

As I leave the diner and Klaus goes off to do whatever the hell Klaus does, I stand on the sidewalk outside for a minute or two. My hands in my pants pockets, I lean up against the building and close my eyes, taking a deep breath. What the fuck am I doing?

It’s true I wanted nothing to do with her in the beginning. I’m tired of having to deal with Klaus’s random friends and whatever stray he decides to bring home for a week or two. They usually end up making a mess, drinking all of my good beer, and eating my Grape Nuts cereal. But then they are eventually gone and he moves on to the next one. Men and women. Sometimes both at the same time. It’s exhausting just watching him and I honestly have no idea how he does it. I’m definitely too old for that shit. Meanwhile, though, I have to live with it.

So, when she showed up, I could not have cared less. Just add it to the long line of other free loaders. But then she stuck around longer than usual. She was there most mornings and most nights. I couldn’t turn around without finding another stupid pink hair tie of hers and there was suddenly strawberry scented shampoo in the shower. According to Klaus things were not serious between them, but he liked having her around and apparently she felt the same about him.

Then, that day she grabbed my arm and accused me of being a mean old man, well I may have shifted my opinion of her just slightly. No one ever challenges me and they certainly never grab me like that. Not without a serious death wish, anyway. But when she did it, I don’t know why, but I didn’t mind. I hadn’t spent enough time around her to really study her up close, but once she was in my face, calling me rude, I could see the little speckles in her eyes. And see how pink her lips were and smell that strawberry shampoo. When I shook her hand, it felt soft and warm.

It was like she made it a personal mission of hers to wear me down, and I have to admit it really fucking worked. She’s nice and bubbly and sunshiny all the time, and that should be the most irritating goddamn thing in the world, but for some reason it’s not. She also calls me out on my bullshit, which no one ever does, outside of my family, and so I have to admire her for that.

That morning when she made me coffee for the first time, that sealed the deal. Not because it was damn good coffee, because it was. It was that she genuinely wanted to talk to me. I have no idea why; she wasn’t wrong when she called me rude before. Still, as much as I didn’t mind the company, I wasn’t going to put too much effort in. I figured she’d be gone soon enough.

The days that followed, though, she was still there. And now every morning I meet her in the kitchen and we sit and chat and drink our coffee. And it’s nice. Nice enough that I make sure to get up extra early every day just to have that time with her to myself. She’s intelligent and funny, and almost as much of a sarcastic smart-ass as myself.

She’s beautiful, too. I can’t stop watching her any time she’s around me. Whatever she’s doing, I’m mesmerized and I have to remind myself to stop staring like a creep. I like the way she moves with confidence around me and the way she gestures with her hands when she talks. I like her voice in the morning when it’s still a little raspy from sleep. I try not to look at the rest of her body, because I know she’s technically too young for me and I’m being a gross old man, but fuck, she is sexy. I know why Klaus likes her. She really is fucking delightful.

This morning I really didn’t want to get breakfast. After I saw Klaus stroking her hair like that, the last thing I wanted to do was see more of the two of them shoved in my face. When she berated me for not going, though, I had a hard time saying no again. She seems to be able to do that to me. But then what just happened back there in the diner? Was I flirting ? Did I actually wink at her while talking about my dick? Holy shit, did I just tell her I tried to suck my own dick? Yes. Yes, I did.

I drop my head back on the brick building, hard, and groan. What is wrong with me? I am a grown ass man. I am not some love-struck teenager with a hard on for every girl that looks in my direction. I do not pine for women. And let’s not gloss over the fact that she’s dating Klaus, my actual brother. They might not be serious, but that’s a pretty shitty thing to do. Fuck, I need to get a life.

And now, because Klaus is completely oblivious and also apparently thinks I have too much free time on my hands, I am committed to seeing her again today. Of course I don’t mind helping her and I’m happy to do it, but I’m nervous just thinking about it. Why should I be, though? It’s just us talking over coffee like we have been for several mornings now. The only thing different is that it will be in an outside location. At her coffee shop. Just the two of us, no Klaus. Almost like… I swear to god if you even entertain that idea right now… date.

“God fucking fuck damn it FUCK!” I yell out loud on the street while I kick at the brick wall with my good shoes, scuffing them up in the process.

Several people are looking at me like I’m an insane person and a couple of them are crossing the street to get away from the raving lunatic trying to beat up a building. To avoid the concerned stares, I blink away and reappear a few streets over. I might as well keep walking, maybe that will clear my head and stop with all these ridiculous thoughts.

It’s a nice day, at least, and I end up at a park, taking a seat on a bench as I wallow in my own self-pity. There’s an older man on the bench next to me, reaching into a bag of bread and throwing the crumbs out to the pigeons gathering around his feet. He looks over at me and I give him a nod of approval, thinking that looks like a nice way to pass the time, but have you seen the price of bread these days? I lean forward and put my head in my hands, groaning out loud at myself while my pigeon friend gives me the side eye.

One thing that has started happening since she came along is that I sometimes forget my real age. I was at least able to age myself up by 8 years or so when we arrived in this timeline, thanks to some tricky time-math and a whole lot of luck, but I’m still well older than my body portrays me. It used to shock the hell out of me every time I’d pass by a mirror and see a stranger looking back at me. Then, after a while, I got used to it and I’m not going to complain; trading your broken old body in for a new model definitely has its perks. No more aching bones, tired muscles, or mysterious bruises that seem to appear out of nowhere. And I won’t get started on the new and improved libido, but suffice to say it’s a nice bonus.

Even though I have gotten used to the newer, younger me, I have never felt young mentally. I have remained the same stubborn old man that has resided in my head for decades now. It’s a weird contradiction to have the energy to stay out all night, yet still rather be at home catching up on this season’s Antiques Roadshow. But this is the first time in the last few years that I’ve started to feel more like my younger self. And maybe it’s because I don’t want to feel like a dirty old man, lusting after a woman more than half my age. That is definitely part of it, but the other part is that she just makes me forget. She makes me feel younger.

The hours are dragging by, but I still don’t feel like going home, so I continue to wander around. I come to the conclusion that I am being a selfish, delusional bastard and I just need to cut it out. If I really think about it and start psychoanalyzing myself, there’s a clear reason why I’m having all of these misdirected feelings. It’s obvious that my years of solitude have left me ill equipped when it comes to forming human relationships. In my still-infantile mind, a simple friendship between a man and woman has manifested itself into something more, because it doesn’t know the difference. The chemicals in my brain are confused and don’t know when and how to release themselves at the appropriate times.

I know that dopamine, serotonin, and norepinephrine are produced upon initial attraction to another person, and that oxytocin is released when you presume you are in love. Everyone knows that. So, it’s obvious that I just need to reprogram my brain so that it is not confusing mutual amicability with something more. As usual, if you approach something from a scientific aspect and remove emotions from the equation, problems become much easier to solve. Simple science makes everything so much clearer.

It’s finally close to 4pm when I’m supposed to meet her at the café, so I start making my way over there. I have a new outlook on this meeting now. I am happy to look over her finances and make any suggestions that I see could be helpful. If she asks for my opinion, I’ll give it. Then, I will take my leave, go home, and continue on with my life. No more of this internal longing bullshit.

Then I arrive there and…well, fuck. So much for science.

I am standing outside of the café looking in through the windows and I can see her in there. She’s standing next to one of the tables, talking with another woman who is sitting down with a mug in front of her. I obviously can’t hear her, but I watch as her face breaks into a beautiful smile and she laughs. A laugh I can hear in my mind because I’ve memorized it. She crosses her arms over her chest, which squeezes her breasts together and accentuates her cleavage. When she finishes her conversation and walks back towards the counter at the front, my eyes travel down to her round butt bouncing along in the tight jeans she’s wearing.

“Excuse me.”

I am snapped out of my voyeuristic weirdness by an annoyed voice belonging to a woman behind me. Apparently, I’m blocking the doorway and she would like to enter the building. I open the door for her and she walks past me while I try to get a grip. I follow the woman inside and up to the counter.

When she sees me, she smiles and I automatically shove my hands in my pockets to try and portray an air of casualness.

“Hey there, Fivey,” she says with a big shit-eating grin.

I shake my head and attempt to look mad. “Do not call me that. It’s bad enough Klaus does.”

“It’s so cute, though! It’s like his little pet name for you.”

“I’m not sure why my idiot brother feels the need to make my name even weirder than it already is.”

She snorts out a laugh and then bites her bottom lip, and honestly both of those things are going to send me through the roof, she’s so fucking cute.

“Ok, so no nickname, fair enough. Still willing to help me out?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

She turns away, but not before I see an eyeroll, as she grabs a coffee cup and fills it up, handing it over the counter to me.

“Here you are. One free coffee. As promised.”

“Thanks. I can pay for it though, you don’t really have to give it to me.”

“No please, just take it. I promise I won’t think you are ungentlemanly for it,” she says with a small smile and I can see she’s obviously teasing me about my comment in the diner earlier.

“You make fun of me, but one of the perks of being with an older man is that we know how to take care of our ladies.”

It just came out of my mouth without thinking and I can feel my face getting hot. I’m just praying that she can’t see me blushing. What the hell is going on with me?

“Oh, is that so? I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, then,” she says with a flirty tone.

I have no idea what to say next without sounding like a complete asshole, so I just don’t say anything and instead take a sip of my coffee.

She clears her throat. “Well, let me go grab my stuff and we can sit down at one of the tables.”

She disappears into the back for a minute, returning with her heavy looking tote bag from earlier. I follow her over to a small two-top table and we sit across from one another. As she fishes around in her bag and unloads her laptop and some file folders, I watch as a lock of hair falls in front her face and all I can think about is reaching over and tucking it behind her ear. Obviously, I do not do this.

I look over all of her financial information and everything looks like it’s in order. When I start asking about something I’m reading on her laptop, she gets annoyed that she can’t see the screen well, and so she comes around to my side of the table, sitting directly next to me. I can smell that strawberry shampoo again and our legs brush together. I swallow nervously.

“I think everything looks good here. Your credit scores are high, you have no debts, and you’re asking for a reasonable amount. I don’t really see why they would deny you.”

“Do you think so? I know it’s stupid, but I’m so nervous! The meeting with the bank is tomorrow morning.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“It’s just…if I don’t get this loan I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ve put so much into this place, I already feel like it’s my own. But I’m not going to work as a coffee shop manager for the rest of my life. I at least want to be a business owner. You know, something I can be proud of.”

I nod. “I think you should be proud of yourself no matter what.”

She scoffs a little. “Ok, thanks Dad,” she says sarcastically.

Just like that, I come crashing down to reality as I’m reminded who I really am. I am not a 20-something year old. I am old enough to be her actual dad. And while that really has no bearing on anything, considering nothing is going to happen between us anyway, it’s still a kick in the nuts. She must see it on my face, because I see her cringe.

“That was a joke. I don’t actually think of you as a dad.”

“I know.” My voice is clipped as I try to hide my embarrassment.

She leans into me and bumps my shoulder with hers in a friendly gesture. “Thank you. For helping me with this.”

“You didn’t need my help. You’ve got this.”

“Well, thank you anyway. And thank you for putting up with me. I know I annoy you by always hanging around your place.”

"It’s true, you are a giant pain in the ass,” I say with a smile. “But, as giant pains in the asses go, you’re not so bad.”

“Aw…thanks Fivey!”

She laughs at my irritated face, which I am only making to keep up the façade. She can call me anything she wants, really. I don’t mind.

I am sitting at home the next afternoon, when she comes bursting through the door of the apartment. She's absolutely bouncing up and down with glee and when she sees Klaus she runs over to him and he picks her up in a big bear hug. She has on what I assume to be her business attire from her bank meeting, and I can’t stop staring. It’s a tight pencil skirt with a short, fitted blazer on top and black high heels. When Klaus lifts her up, her jacket pulls up in the back and I am treated to a very small window of her bare skin just above the waist of her skirt. I’m not sure if I want to look there, or down a little bit lower to wear the material is hugging her hips and ass.

“I got it!” she shrieks and kisses Klaus before he sets her down again.

“That’s great, babe!” he tells her.

Then she turns to me, as I stand there staring like a dope. Before I know it she has her arms wrapped around me and my face is covered by her hair as she hooks her chin over my shoulder. I don’t know what to do, I’m practically paralyzed with shock. I can’t even bring my arms up to hug her back, so they just stay limply at my sides. I take a breath and close my eyes, inhaling the scent of her hair and skin. She lets go of me and steps back and my immediate impulse is to pull her right back into me again. But I don’t. Instead, I just continue doing nothing.

“I cannot thank you enough, Five. You helped me do this.”

“I…I really didn’t do anything.”

“Well, you gave me the confidence I needed and made me feel like I knew what I was doing before I went in there. So, thank you. Really.”

She is smiling so genuinely and sweetly at me and I just can’t believe she is giving me any credit for anything. But I figure if I keep putting off her compliments she’ll get annoyed, so instead, I get weird and flustered.

“Yeah, well, you’re welcome. No problem.” I look from her to Klaus and back again. “Alright, well I’m going to leave you two dimwits to yourselves. See you later.” Then I blink away before either of them can respond.

It’s the next morning and I wake up early, but I don’t get up to meet her for coffee this time. I can’t keep torturing myself like this and pretending we have some sort of connection is just sad and pathetic. The truth is, she is with Klaus right now. Maybe they aren’t technically in a committed relationship, but she’s here in the apartment because of him, not me. And because they supposedly aren’t serious, that also means they will eventually tire of one another and one day she just won’t be here anymore. And it makes me fucking sick to even think about it.

Instead, I start thinking about her running into Klaus’s arms and kissing him yesterday. I hate how much that bothered me. I hate how much I wanted that to be me. I’m lying here in my bed, alone, and all I can think about is lifting her up in my arms, her body pressed to mine as she kisses me. It’s so fucking pathetic and yet, I can’t stop. I replay it over and over in my mind; her smile and her lips and the adorable way she would squeak if I squeezed her to me.

Soon, my pathetic little daydream has evolved into something much dirtier than a hug and kiss. I think about how her tits would feel pressed up against my chest. About how her firm ass would feel under my hands. And how badly I want her legs wrapped around my waist.

I groan sadly and palm my erection through my underwear. Fuck. Rather than sit and jerk off in my bed, I decide I should just head to the shower and kills two birds with one stone. The bathroom is directly across from my bedroom and I make the quick blink over so that I won’t have the humiliating experience of bumping into the person that’s responsible for my boner problem in the first place.

In the shower, my imagination runs wild. I obviously have never seen her naked, but I can certainly conjure up an image in my head that I decide is probably pretty close. I picture her straddling me, my cock deep inside of her, while she fucks me hard and fast. Those tits that I’ve only seen the outlines of through her t-shirts are bouncing up and down in front of my face and, Jesus Chris, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. My hand is acting as a sad substitute for her tight cunt as I lean my head on my hand against the wall and close my eyes.

I imagine her moaning my name as she throws her head back and works her hips harder and faster on top of me. I can feel her soft flesh as my fingers dig into her sides and push her down; all the while thrusting my own hips up because I can’t get enough. As a final act of delusion, I throw her off of me and flip her over. I pound into her from behind, listening as she cries and sobs from the intensity of it all. I hear her pleading, telling me she’s sorry for ever wanting anyone else but me; that it will only be me from now on. I urge her on as I penetrate her harder, demanding she fucks only me from now on. She is mine and I’ll be goddamned if anyone else is going to touch her from here on out.

I’m only yours, Five…you’re all I want…all I need. I love—

“Hey, Klaus, have you seen my…Oh shit!”

The sound of her voice in real life has me floundering, trying to remember what the fuck is going on, and I turn around just in time to see her horrified face which mirrors mine. Our eyes lock for what has to be a fraction of a second, but feels like an eternity, and I see her glance briefly downward and then back up again.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she stammers, before quickly closing the shower curtain with a flourish.

I don’t know what to say or do, and there’s no time to do it anyway, as I stand there with my eyes wide and my dick in my hands. I hear the bathroom door slam shut and I’m left alone again. If I have felt shameful or embarrassed about any of my actions in the past, they are nothing compared with what I’m feeling now.

I want to die. I want to dissolve into liquid form and slip down the drain, washing away with all the other filth and disappearing into the sewers. I quickly contemplate my options. I’m a smart guy, I can come up with something. I could blink away and never return to this apartment ever again. Klaus might wonder what happened to me, but eventually he’d get over it. After all, it’s not the first time I’ve vanished without a trace. I could try some serious time travel again, maybe jumping backwards this time. Give the 1800s a try; live out the rest of my days doing something mundane like a blacksmith or a chimney sweep.

Instead, I just stand there, the shame and embarrassment washing over me. The most fucked up thing is that I’m still hard. I saw her face and her shock and it still didn’t dissuade my traitorous hormones. I need to finish and I’m horrified at the thought. Not horrified enough, though, because I start stroking myself again. I keep picturing her in my mind, even though I know she knows what I am doing and maybe that’s part of why I like it.

In some psychotic part of my brain, I like that she saw me jerking off. She doesn’t know that it was her I was thinking of, but I can start to convince myself that she might like it. She might like that I was fucking my hand to images of her naked body on top of mine. She might actually be flattered that I’m thinking of her riding me hard and fast and violently. That I’m imagining her moaning my name and coming around my cock.

A few more seconds of vigorous self-pleasuring and my hand is stilling as I unleash ropes of cum over my stomach and onto the shower floor. It mixes with the water and rushes down the drain as my eyes clench tightly shut and I groan as quietly as I can through gritted teeth. It’s bad enough she saw me in here, she doesn’t need to hear me, too.

After I am milked dry, and my breathing starts to slow again, I let go of my shrinking dick and wash myself off. I feel like the loser of the century. She’s probably out there right now, telling Klaus all about it and laughing. They’re probably discussing how sad I am and how much I really need to get a life. And they’d be right.

Once I’m cleaned off and dressed again, I listen closely from inside my room, trying to determine if she’s still here or not. After a while, I still haven’t heard signs of anyone else, and I figure the coast is clear. I blink out of my room and head towards the kitchen. I need a fucking drink and I don’t even care that it’s still morning. Anything to help erase this horrifying feeling.

In the kitchen, I’m looking through the cupboard where we keep the booze, trying to decide if it’s a vodka or a whiskey kind of morning, when I hear soft foot-steps and a gentle clearing of a throat. Fuck. Can I just get a fucking break once in a while? My spine stiffens and I think of just blinking out of there without even turning around, but then she starts talking to me.

“Hey, so…I am so sorry for busting in on you like that. Klaus had said he was going to take a shower, so I just assumed that was him in there, and I was looking for my slippers that I thought I left in the bathroom, and that was really stupid of me to just assume that…I am really very sorry, I would never have, if I had known it was you, obviously I wouldn’t have, but like I said, I thought it was Klaus, and…ugh…I’m sorry. I hope this isn’t going to make things weird.”

I almost laugh at her run-on sentence of stammering apologies. Almost. Instead, I grab a bottle of vodka and turn around with a glare.

“So, when exactly are you leaving?”

She hesitates. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, when are you getting the fuck out of here? I realize you and Klaus are having fun playing house or whatever the fuck it is you do around here, but this is my apartment, too. In fact, it’s more mine than his, since I pay the bulk of the rent. And I don’t remember asking for a third roommate.”

I see a brief look of hurt cross her face before she is challenging back. “Look, just because I accidentally walked in on you, doesn’t mean you have to be an asshole about it. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? I’m not embarrassed, sweetheart, so don't flatter yourself. And this has nothing to do with that. I’m just wondering when I can look forward to not seeing your face every time I turn around in my own goddamn house!”

She nods, her lips pursed together, and her hands on her hips. “Alright, Five, you win. I thought maybe we were beginning to be friends, but I can see that is not the case. I will do my best to stay out of your way. I’m sorry for any inconveniences I’ve caused you.”

After another few seconds of angry glaring, she turns around and leaves. I take the stopper out of the vodka and tip the entire bottle back, swallowing at least three full gulps before I can’t take the burning in my throat and stomach anymore. I don’t know why I’m like this. I don’t know why I have to be a fucking dick to everyone, especially the people I care about. Well, I guess I should look on the bright side. I won’t have to worry about letting my true feelings out around her. Because now she wants nothing to do with me.

Chapter Three: Crazy Train

It was bad, there was no mistaking it. And it was all your fault; at least the beginning part. You certainly hadn’t meant to walk in on him in the shower. You really had assumed it was Klaus in there. You had been wrong. Very, very wrong. So, yeah, you really fucked that one up.

Things had been going so well, too. You were actually getting along and finding that you really liked spending time with Five. You assumed he liked spending time with you, too, even though he never came right out and said so. Although, with him, you doubted he would ever admit to that. But you knew he did, otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered even speaking to you, let alone hanging out with you.

Even though you’re the one who did the unannounced shower barge-in, you still think he’s overreacting. Sure, you saw him completely naked, but it was only for a couple of seconds and it’s not like you haven’t seen a naked man before. And sure, you are like 99% positive he was banging out some knuckle babies while he was in there, but that part is not your fault. How were you to know there would be some salami slapping going on in there when you opened the curtain?

Now he’s pissed off at you and has gone back to his old, dickish ways. He’s barely acknowledging you anymore and he stopped coming into the kitchen for coffee in the mornings. You understand he’s probably embarrassed, but he should be able to get over it, for fuck’s sake. He’s always claiming he’s the mature one around here, but he sure as hell isn’t acting like it right now.

You definitely think he should be able to move on from that little incident, but you can’t seem to stop thinking about it, either. Although, not for the same reasons. It had only been a couple of seconds if that, but that image has been burned into your brain. And not necessarily in a bad way. In that tiny glimpse that you got, it did not disappoint.

You keep finding yourself staring off, lost in another inappropriate daydream, as you remember exactly what he had looked like. Wet, naked, and clearly aroused, it was enough of a picture to keep you occupied. If men have spank banks, what do you call it for women? Rub hub? Finger vault? Whatever it is, that image is in yours now. And, fuck, it’s a good one.

Klaus has an amazing body, there’s no doubt about that. He’s lithe and toned and has a cinched-in waist that you’re envious of. But when you saw Five’s body…holy shit. He’s a little more solid than Klaus, and his muscles are well-defined but not huge. His chest is smooth and firm, and his abs look like they’re cut from stone, all the way down to the soft line of hair trailing southward to the main event. From the quick peek you had gotten of the goods in his hand, he either somehow used his powers to beef himself up, or that may have been the one thing in his tragic life that he lucked out on. Because, damn. Combine that with a tight ass, the water cascading down his body, and his dark, wet hair pushed off his face, and that is definitely enough to give you some material for the next time you’re double-clicking your mouse.

It's a week after “the incident”, and you have just come back from work and it’s late. You haven’t been over to see Klaus in a few days because you’ve been so busy, but you decide to stop by because you know he’ll still be up. Plus, you’re feeling the need to get some sexual release that isn’t in the form of your hand or vibrator, and you know he’ll be up for that, too.

You don’t see Five anywhere, which is probably a good thing, and you and Klaus hang out in the living room for a while, having a couple of drinks and catching up. When you decide to head to the bedroom, that’s when Five makes his presence known. Loudly.

Mid-make out and partially undressed, the two of you hear the pounding bass and blaring guitar riff of AC/DC’s “Back in Black” coming from Five’s bedroom. He is blasting it at full volume and as much as you like listening to Brian Johnson scream at the top of his lungs, it’s not really setting the mood at the moment. You ignore it for a little while longer, trying to focus on Klaus’s hands working their way down between your legs. When it’s clear you’re not really into it, he stops.

“What’s wrong?”

You huff. “Seriously? Isn’t this annoying you, too?”

Klaus shrugs. “I don’t know, it’s not that bad. I like loud music, and Five has good taste.”

“Well, it’s distracting and you know he’s doing it on purpose. It’s just rude.”

“Just ignore it.”

He pulls you on top of him, and you straddle his waist. But when you lean down to kiss him again, it’s clear you are not going to be able to get your mind in the game; not with the walls shaking from the constant pulse of the mini-rock concert going on down the hall. You let out another frustrated growl.

“I’m going to go say something,” you tell Klaus, pushing yourself off of him.

He props himself up on his elbows. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

You roll your eyes. “Please. What’s he doing to do? I’m not scared of him.”

“Right, no, I know. Me either. But…”

“But, what?”

“You know, he’s just…testy.”

As you’re getting off the bed, you give Klaus an exasperated look. “He’s a big man baby is what he is. And I’m tired of his shit.”

Before Klaus can say anything more, you’re walking out the door and heading to the source of the music. The song has now switched over to “Crazy Train”. You pound on the door to Five’s room, waiting with your arms folded across your chest. That’s when you remember you are not wearing a bra. Or pants. You only have a loose-fitting t-shirt on and some ridiculous underwear with cartoon cats on them because you haven’t done laundry in a while and all your good panties are in the wash. Luckily, the shirt covers up most of your crotch area.

You’re not getting an answer, so you pound the door with your fist again. Mid-pound, the door swings open wide, the blaring music becoming even louder. Five is already in the middle of a rant.

“Klaus, I have told you a thousand fucking times, I do not have your lighter…oh.”

Five stops mid-sentence when he realizes it’s you. He’s standing there shirtless, with only his black pants on, belt unbuckled and hanging open. His hair is disheveled, and he seems to be swaying slightly; holding onto the door for balance. That’s when you notice he has a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. He looks at you for a second, his hooded eyes slowly moving over your body with his mouth partially open before his face changes and he smirks.

He takes another swig of whiskey from the bottle before addressing you. “Something I can help you with, princess?”

You’re stunned into silence for a beat or two, trying to process the fact that you are once again blessed with another glimpse of his body, as well as the fact that he is drunk. You hesitate with your mouth hanging open like a moron, which Five obviously notices because he has that damn arrogant look on his face again. Finally, you snap out of it.

“Is there a reason you’re blaring your music that loud right now?” you demand.

“Yeah, there is. Because it’s my fucking room and I can do what I want in it.”

“God, you are such a dick! I know you’re doing it on purpose just to piss me off.”

Five shakes his head slowly and takes another drink. “Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but not everything is about you. Pissing you off in the process is a definite perk, though.”

You ball your hands up at your side and grit your teeth. “I’m not buying any of your bullshit, Five. I know you’re mad at me, and that’s fine. But you’re acting like a fucking child right now!”

“I think you’re mistaken. I’m not the one who can’t stand to be alone for more than a few hours. I’m not the one that needs constant attention and validation from someone. So who’s the child now, hmm?”

“What are you talking about? I do not.”

He grins. “Oh yeah? Want to tell me what you’re doing here all the time then? Why you’re here when you have a perfectly good apartment of your own to go to? ‘Cause I bet it’s not because of my brother.”

That throws you off a little and you don’t immediately have a comeback. Five snorts derisively. You narrow your eyes.

“Fuck you!” you spit out.

Five raises an eyebrow and lets out a short laugh. “Ohhh…maybe that’s why you’re always here. Well, sorry, honey. Hate to disappoint you, but you’re not my type.”

With your own sarcastic smile, you shoot back. “I know I’m not, honey. From what I’ve seen, I’m guessing you prefer to take matters into your own hands if you know what I’m saying.” That seems to have shut him up and he stands there, clinging to the door frame with his hair hanging in his face. Before you let him think of another comeback you give him a tiny wave and turn around. “I’ll leave you and Mr. Daniels to it, then. Remember, Fivey, don’t go too hard at it. I hear carpal tunnel is a real bitch.”

As you walk away, you hear the door slam behind you. You’re irritated and pissed off. And now you are horny. How the fuck is that possible? Well, there’s a good solution for that, and it’s waiting in the other room for you. You stalk over to Klaus’s room, making sure to leave the door slightly ajar. Klaus is still on the bed on his back and he’s lit up a joint in the process. When he sees you enter, he sits up.

“Oh, good, you’re alive. How did that go?”

“Great,” you say under your breath.

Then you are pulling your shirt over your head and yanking your underwear off. You immediately climb onto the bed and over the top of Klaus, grabbing the joint and tossing it into the ashtray at the side of the bed. He’s shocked when instead of saying anything, you lean down, grabbing his face in both hands and forcefully kissing him. After a moment his hands are on your hips and he’s smiling against your mouth.

“That’s more like it,” he says before you’re devouring his mouth again.

You don’t want to talk and you don’t need any more foreplay. You just want to fuck. Hard and rough, and loud. Luckily, Klaus is already pretty fired up and you can feel him hard underneath you as you straddle him. He still has his briefs on, so you hastily tug them off. If he’s wondering why you’re all of a sudden trying to mount him like a wild dog in heat, he doesn’t say anything. He seems pretty happy when you line yourself up and sink onto his dick, letting it fill you up in one shove. You let out a whine before looking down at him.

“I want to fuck. Hard,” you tell him in between gasping breaths.

“Yeah, baby, fuck me as hard as you want,” he rasps before smacking your ass and giving you a sly smile.

“Don’t talk. Just fuck,” you instruct him.

He obviously doesn’t care that you’re ordering him around, because his hands are on your tits as you start riding him fast and hard. You don’t even work up to it, you’re just pounding yourself onto his cock and you can already feel the beads of sweat starting to form on your skin. You’ve never been this worked up in your life, and you have no idea why. That’s not true; you know exactly why. You just don’t want to admit it, even to yourself.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you work as hard as you can, thrusting your hips back and forth and grunting with the effort. Throwing your head back, you cry out as loudly as you can, practically screaming at the top of your lungs. If the neighbors can hear you, it probably sounds like you’re being murdered to the soundtrack of Ozzy Osbourne right now. You’re making as much noise as possible; crying, wailing, and begging for more. And it’s all on purpose because you want a certain someone to know what he’s missing out on. Klaus is either shocked into submission by your sudden change in demeanor, or he’s in heaven. Either way, he’s not saying anything.

With your eyes closed, and no voice attached to the body you’re penetrating yourself with, you start to imagine what you’ve been trying to push out of your mind. You might hate him at the moment and think he’s a total asshole, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want to climb on top of him like a spider monkey and fuck his brains out.

In your mind, it’s not Klaus anymore, it’s Five. And you want more of him, even though that’s not physically possible. You run your hands down his perfect chest and abdomen, clutching at his thighs as you lean back to get a different angle. He’s watching you with those piercing eyes, looking up at you with that damn smirk of his.

“That’s right baby, fuck Daddy hard.”

Whoa, Daddy? Where the fuck did that come from? Shit, I have some real problems.

There’s no time to dwell on that psychological component because you just can’t get enough. His hands are on your hips and then on your ass, long fingers gripping tightly into you and pushing you even further down onto his cock. You’re still crying out, moaning loudly while you lean down to kiss him. You can feel his hand in your hair and his lips pressed against yours as you continue to rock into him.

“You feel so good, sweetheart. Don’t stop,” he’s saying in that husky voice of his.

“I need more,” you’re pleading and he laughs at you.

“Tell Daddy what you want, darling.”

Fuck, what is happening to me?

You don’t know what’s happening to you, other than you’re so fucking wet, you feel like you’re going to slide right off of Klaus’s dick and onto the floor. You open your eyes, stop your crazy thrusts, and abruptly climb off. Klaus lets out a hiss at the sudden loss of your warm, wet walls clenched around him.

“Fuck me from behind,” you pant, even as you’re already getting into position on your hands and knees.

“Shit,” he’s murmuring under his breath, but he doesn’t argue.

You feel him behind you and the anticipation is driving you crazy. When he slams into you, hips smacking against your ass and his hands pulling you backward hard and fast, you let out a sound that might be close to a sob. Your fists clench the bedsheets and from this angle, you don’t have to keep your eyes closed to slip back into your imaginary sex fantasy.

Five is behind you, plowing you so forcibly that it’s hard to keep yourself steady. It feels so fucking good, and everything you’ve been wanting. You don’t know how he’s weaseled his way into your head like this, but it probably has something to do with that goddamn body of his. Or his impossibly handsome face. Or those hands. Fuck, you want those hands on you and in you, and doing whatever else he pleases with them.

“Tell me,” he demands as he rams into you over and over again. “Tell me what you want. Let me give it to you.”

“Oh god…please…don’t stop fucking me!”

You’re not even sure if you said that out loud or not, but it doesn’t matter. His hand comes around to finger you while he rails you as hard as possible. You’re going to lose it any second now, you can feel it. His fingers are pressing against your clit and he continues talking to you inside your head; telling you everything you are dying to hear.

“You like it when Daddy fucks you like this, don’t you? When I fuck you so hard you can’t think straight?”

“Yes…yes,” you’re whining over and over again.

His hands are working their magic while his impressive cock is driving into your pussy. No one has made your body react like this before and you want to cry from the sheer overload of emotions.

“Let me hear you, sweet girl. You know what you want.”

“I want you! Oh fuck…you’re going to make me come,” you whimper.

“Say it again,” he snarls. “Say it again and scream my name when I make you come.”

“I want you! I want you so fucking badly. Please…keep fucking me…I need…oh god yes! Fii—fff-fuck!”

You catch yourself right at the last second as your orgasm rips through you, creating shocks of pleasure all throughout your body. Your muscles are contracting and your skin is hot and tingling. You are moaning like you are in pain and the sheets underneath you are balled tightly in your fists. There is a layer of sweat over your entire body and your breaths are coming out in ragged gasps. You are vaguely aware of Klaus behind you, gripping your hips while he lets loose with his own climax.

Several seconds pass while neither of you move. After a while, he pulls out and you fall onto your stomach, sprawled out and completely spent.

“Holy. Shit,” Klaus breathes out as he runs a hand down your back. “Where the hell did that come from?”

You laugh softly and push your hair out of your face. “I don’t know. I guess I was just a little wound up.”

“A little wound up? Shit, babe, I’m fairly certain the authorities have been alerted by several people in this building. In which case, I should probably hide some shit.”

You move your tired body and sit up, your legs shaking. You feel bad that you went a little crazy on him, especially considering the entire smutty movie that had been playing in your head the entire time. The one that didn’t involve Klaus in any way. You smile and shrug, then start moving off the bed to gather up your clothes.

“I know, that was a little over the top. Sorry.”

Klaus shakes his head and picks up the joint out of the ashtray you had thrown it in and takes a hit. After exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air, he studies you with creased eyebrows.

“Do not apologize for that. Ever.” Then he pauses before that sly grin starts spreading over his face. “Wait a minute, I know what was different. What probably lit a fire in your kitty cat panties. Old Fivey in there!”

You are in the process of tugging your shirt back over your head and your face isn’t visible to him, which is a damn good thing because it is probably beet red at the moment. You take an extra long time to pull it down over your head and you try and keep your composure.

“That’s ridiculous! I am not hot for Five!”

Klaus lets out a small giggle and shakes his head. “No, no, not like that. I meant I bet it was that crazy sexy hard rock he’s been pumping out of his room. Gets you all pumped up, too, doesn’t it? I don’t blame you though, fucking to loud music with a pounding bassline like that is amazing.”

You let out a sigh of relief and then laugh. “Yeah, you’re right, it does kind of get me going. That must have been it. Not to mention I haven’t been over in a while. I needed to let off some pent-up sexual frustration.”

Klaus bows and it’s hilarious because he’s still naked with a joint in his hand. “Glad to be of service, madam.”

You walk over and pat him on the butt. “Thank you. As always, you know how to deliver.”

“Do you want to stay here tonight?”

It had been your intention to head home for the rest of the night, but now that you’re here and Klaus is offering, you don’t really want to go back to your apartment alone. You like staying here in Klaus’s bed, with his body heat warming you up as you lie next to him, quietly chatting together until you drift off to sleep. Sometimes you’ll be on the very edge of sleep and he’ll whisper something so stupid and off the wall that you can’t help laughing and you’re awake again, with no hope of sleep after that.

But if you stay, that means Five was right about you. You really do come over because you don’t like being alone. You don’t need constant attention from anyone, that part is not true, but you like the companionship. Even if you and Klaus stopped having sex, you’d still want to come over all the time. You like hanging out with him and even on the occasions he’s not there, the apartment feels cozier and more lived in than yours. You have thought about getting a roommate, but all of your current friends are either in serious relationships or prefer to live alone. The thought of trying to advertise for a stranger to move in and then interview people to decide if you want to share your space with them seems exhausting. So, you’d rather just stay here as often as you can.

Even though you just mind-fucked him like crazy, you internally curse Five for reading you so correctly.

“Yeah, I’d like to if that’s ok.”

Klaus pulls on his underwear before flopping back on the bed. “Of course! You’re always welcome here, you know that.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to your brother. He’s been giving me a ration of shit lately about being around here so much,” you grumble as you crawl in next to him.

“I thought you two were getting along.”

“Well, we were, but then…” you almost let slip that you walked in on Five in the shower. You hadn’t told Klaus about that because you already felt bad for embarrassing the guy, you didn’t need to get anyone else involved. “I don’t know, I guess he changed his mind or something. Because now he definitely is not a fan of mine.”

Klaus frowns. “Hmm..well, that sucks. We should be the three amigos!”

“Pretty sure he does not want to be mi amigo at the moment.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Tell him to stop being such a grouch.”

“It’s ok, you don’t have to do that,” you protest.

“No, no, I want to. It’s important to me that he can get along with you. Five may be a scary, unhinged assassin who once threatened to kill me by describing in excruciating detail all of the steps he was going to take to do it. Like, he literally wrote them out on a yellow legal pad with graphics next to each one and handed it to me. I don’t remember the full list, but it involved a step ladder, some Elmer’s glue, and a toaster oven. Anyway, he may be scary like that, but he’s not all bad. He just needs to lighten up a little. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.”

You laugh. “What did you do to piss him off that time?”

Klaus rolls his eyes and sighs. “Oh, I don’t know. It wasn’t a big deal. I may have accidentally eaten a large number of mushrooms and decided to strip naked and crawl into bed with him in the middle of the night.”

“I mean, that’s pretty funny but it doesn’t sound that bad.”

“Well, no, that part isn’t. It was when I started violently humping him from behind and licking his neck that he kind of got a little uppity about it.”

You start laughing harder. “You humped him and licked his neck?!”

“Yeah. I don’t really remember a lot of it, but apparently, I had him in a pretty good death grip while calling him “Alberto” and demanding to speak with his manager. I guess he was able to blink away just in time before I unloaded my high fructose porn syrup all over his superhero jammies.”

You are laughing so hard at that image that tears are rolling down your cheeks. “Ok, I understand why he wanted to kill you, now. You kind of had it coming.”

Klaus waves a hand flippantly in the air. “Now you sound just like him.”

The next morning, you get up before Klaus, just like always. As you make your way to the kitchen, you can hear rattling around in there and you pause. You think about heading back to the bedroom just to avoid any confrontation, but then you change your mind. You’re not going to hide from him. As you walk in, there is Five, busy making coffee. He looks like shit and you smile a little to yourself. Good, serves you right.

“’ Morning, sunshine!” you exclaim cheerily, just to piss him off. “You’re up early. I figured you’d be sleeping the day away after your little one-man frat party last night.”

He turns to you with a look that you know is intended to intimidate, but is not quite working considering he looks like death warmed over. His eyes are bloodshot, his hair is a tangled mess, and he’s still wearing the rumpled pants you had seen him in last night. And of course, he has not bothered to put on a shirt again. Jesus, will this guy put some clothes on and give me a fucking break?

“Oh, good, it’s you. I was worried maybe you had decided to fuck off and leave me alone. But, nope, here you are again.”

You give a snort and sit down at the kitchen table. You’re not really sure why you’re still there, but you don’t want him to think he’s scared you off so you stand your ground. Instead, you say nothing but start humming Pink’s “U + Ur Hand” under your breath. You know Five hears you because you can see his shoulders tense and his hands flex. You smile to yourself.

When he turns to you again, his arms crossed over his bare chest and his hair in his face, he leans against the counter and eyes you up with a malicious grin. You really wish he weren’t so damn good-looking because it’s very hard to keep up your little show when all you are really thinking about is jumping on top of him.

“That was a nice little performance you gave last night, by the way. I had assumed you were the type to just lie there and have someone else do all the work, but good to know my brother is at least getting something out of it.”

You straighten up in your seat. “You’re welcome. I figured the least I could do is give you some material to work with.”

Five nods with a smirk, not taking the bait. He uncrosses his arms and grabs onto the edge of the countertop behind him, leaning back casually. You are immediately drawn to his sculpted chest and abs and your eyes drift over the many faded scars scattered over his body.

“I could say the same to you, love,” he says.

He throws you off your game with that statement. You’re mostly sure he’s just trying to be an asshole and get under your skin, but what if he does know? What if you yelled something out while you were imagining him fucking you so hard your teeth rattled in your head? When you were calling him Daddy and riding him like he was Sea Biscuit? You feel caught and your face must betray you because suddenly he’s not looking so smug anymore.

You are both staring at one another, not saying a word, but the passive-aggressive tension in the air has changed to something else. The look between you seems to last forever, and you can feel the warmth spreading up your neck and onto your face. And maybe a little between your legs, as well. Just then, the coffee that Five had been making is done and the machine beeps loudly, startling you both.

He looks away first and pulls down a mug from the cabinet. You are surprised to see him grab a second one. He fills them both and then sets one down on the table, sliding it over to you with a push so that it sloshes over the side.

“Thanks,” you mumble, as you pick it up.

“Sure,” he responds grudgingly, and you can tell it’s killing him to be even moderately polite right now.

After a minute or so of neither of you talking, it is starting to get awkward. Someone needs to say something or leave. Instead, you just sip your hot coffee and pretend the tabletop is incredibly interesting. You decide to chance it and you clear your throat, but you don’t look up.

“Look, I’m sorry, ok?” you say quietly.

It takes a few seconds, but he finally responds. “Yeah, I’m sorry, too.”

You nod and glance up, meeting his eyes as he watches you with that all-encompassing intensity of his. His stare bores right through you and once again you feel frozen in time and for a minute you think he’s somehow doing that, but in reality, it’s just your mind playing tricks on you. He just has that hold over you somehow and you pray that he can’t see it. You watch as he looks away, closes his eyes, and pushes his hair back with one hand, giving you a good look at the tight muscles in his arms. Fuck. You cross your legs and take a sip of your coffee to try and hide the fact that you are on the verge of passing out right now.

At that exact moment, the weird energy in the room is broken by Klaus’s appearance. He floats in, wearing some sort of ugly satin robe that barely covers anything, but somehow he manages to pull off the look. He stops in the doorway and looks from you to Five and back again. Then he claps his hands and smiles.

“Yay! So, you guys are buddies again? Is that what I’m seeing here?”

Five rolls his eyes and sighs. You shrug your shoulders. “I guess so. Tolerating each other again, anyway,” you tell him.

Five gives a tight-lipped smile and holds his coffee mug up towards you in a toasting gesture and you do the same with yours. Neither of you say anything else on the subject.

“Well, let me tell you, that is a relief,” Klaus exhales. “I was not really looking forward to having to put the hammer down on you, Fivey.”

Five raises his eyebrows at Klaus. “Is that right? And how exactly were you planning on doing that?”

“By giving you a very stern warning, of course,” Klaus says with a smile, shaking his finger at Five. Then he walks over to get his own coffee. He looks Five up and down and then gives his arm a squeeze. “Damn, Cinco, you been working out or what? Looking pretty fine there, I must say.”

Five frowns and swats his hand away. “You’re so weird.”

You giggle into your mug and Five looks at you with a crooked smile. Then he snatches the full coffee pot out of Klaus’s hand. “As much as I’d love to spend the rest of my day in the company of you two intellectuals, I must take my leave. See you later.”

Klaus lets out a cry of protest as Five disappears in a flash, taking the coffee with him, and leaving his brother with an empty mug.

You try to hide your laughter as Klaus looks at you in disbelief.

“Well, that was rude,” he says in a huff.

With a shrug, you get up and pour some of your coffee into his cup. “Yeah, but I’ve come to realize that rude is Five’s love language.”

Klaus pouts. “He must love us a lot, then.”

With a smile, you think to yourself how much that statement is probably true. If Five doesn’t care about you, he’s not going to waste his time and energy to speak to you, even if it is in the form of an insult. It makes you feel good inside to know that he probably really does like you, at least a little bit. If not, he just wouldn’t bother with you at all; he’d avoid you like the plague. And you like knowing that. You like it a lot, actually.

Once again, you find your mind drifting off. And once again, it’s filled with images and scenarios starring one very sexy, teleporting ex-assassin.

Chapter Four: Love In The Time Of Cholera

“Jesus, what’s the matter with you?”

Five walks into the apartment to find you huddled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and shivering.

“Nothing. It’s just a cold I think,” you answer between chattering teeth.

Five strides over to the couch and leans in to peer down at you, squinting slightly. He stands up straight and crosses his arms over his chest, flicking the hair out of his eyes with a superior shake of his head.

“I don’t think that’s just a cold. You look like shit.”

“Gosh, thanks, Five. Charming, as always,” you snap back. Or at least, it would have been a snap had you not just started coughing violently, your entire body shaking with the effort.

Five’s eyebrows furrow together. “Have you taken your temperature?”

You shrug. “No.”

With a heavy sigh, Five leaves the room, returning a minute later with a thermometer in hand. He presses the button and when it beeps, he holds it out for you. You eye it and him suspiciously.

Five jabs it towards you again when you don’t reach for it. “Take it.”

“How do I know you or Klaus haven’t used that to take your temperature in other ways besides orally?”

Five rolls his eyes. “I keep this in my room, away from Klaus for just that reason, and I can assure you it has never been used in my or anyone else’s ass.”

After another sigh from Five and another dubious look at the thermometer, you relent and take it from him. You place it under your tongue and you both wait in silence for what seems to take forever before you hear the beep again. Before you can take it out, Five reaches down and removes it from your mouth for you, frowning at the digital display.

“104.3. You’re burning up.”

You shiver again, wrapping the blanket around you tighter. “Great.”

Five is quiet for a moment, and then he glances around the room. “Where’s Klaus?”

You shrug again, and it reminds you how much your muscles are aching. “I don’t know. I came here right from work since it was closer than my place and I was feeling pretty crappy. I texted him to let him know I’d be here, but so far I haven’t seen him. He didn’t answer my text, either.”

You figure Five is probably more than annoyed with having you here without Klaus, and spreading your germs around his apartment in the process. With a guilty look, you start to stand up.

“Sorry, I’ll go. I’ve rested a bit, so I should be ok to walk home.”

As you stand, you are overwhelmed by a bout of dizziness and you sway on your feet, your vision blurring. Five reaches out to catch you around your waist and you let him take most of your weight. When your vision returns and you can stand, you look up at him to find he actually looks concerned rather than his usual expression of deep irritation. His facial features are softer and his hair is in his face again. His eyes scan over your face, lingering on your lips before meeting your eyes. Your legs are bearing your full weight now, but he still has his arms around you.

You clear your throat. “Or…I can get a cab.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he says, although it’s missing the usual snark he reserves for you. “You obviously are too sick to go anywhere.”

Five lets you go and you both stand there awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.

“So…you want me to stay here?” you ask weakly.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I want you to stay here, but I’m also not sending you off on your own while you’re half dead.” He manages a small smile that appears genuine. “You need someone to look after you.”

You try to hide your shock but your eyebrows raise. “And you’re going to look after me?”

He looks away briefly before sighing dramatically again. “Until Klaus comes back. Then you’re his problem.”

A slight smile twitches at the corner of your mouth. You can’t believe Mr. Crab Ass is being this soft. Soft for him, anyway. And you can’t believe he’s willing to take care of you. You’re trying to picture him as a caregiver, though, and it’s like your brain isn’t computing.

“Ok,” you say softly. “Thank you.”

“Come on,” he says, holding out his hand. “I need to get you into bed.”

Despite the pounding headache in your skull, you start giggling as Five realizes what he said, and his face flushes.

“That’s not…you know what I mean,” he stammers. “You can lie down in Klaus’s bed.”

You nod, still smiling and take his hand. It’s warm and dry against your clammy one, but he doesn’t seem to care. Even though your head feels like it’s filled with mashed potatoes, you still feel a little zing through your body at the sensation of his touch. You know he’s strong and he can kill a man with these same hands if he needed to, but he holds yours gently.

He gets you situated in Klaus’s bed, with an extra blanket thrown over the comforter to keep you warm against your chills. He brings you medicine to bring down the fever, and a glass of water to keep next to the bed. He places a cold compress on your forehead and dims the lights so you can rest, slipping quietly out of the room after he makes sure you’re comfortable.

As he leaves, you notice he hesitates near the door and takes a look back at you before he goes. You’re not quite sure how to interpret the look, mostly because you’ve never seen him like that before. He looks…sad? Concerned? You’re not sure, but whatever the meaning behind it has your heart racing just a little faster.

Even with Five’s continued care, your fever remains and you somehow manage to feel even shittier as the day goes on. Your entire body aches, right down to your bones, and you’re so exhausted you can hardly keep your eyes open. You’re sweaty and shivering and every time you cough it feels like fire in your lungs. You might even be hallucinating, because each time you wake up and open your eyes, Five is there. He usually has some amused look on his face, like you just said something interesting or funny, but you’re pretty sure you’ve only been sleeping.

At one point you wake and he’s not in the chair across from the bed like he has been, but you can hear him out in the hall. He’s talking to someone and he does not sound happy. He sounds like you’re used to him sounding. All frustration and rage.

“What do you mean you’re not coming home?” he spits out. There’s a pause. “And like I told you , she’s sick.” Pause. “No, dickhead, like really sick! You need to get your ass back here and act like a fucking adult—” Pause. “Because she’s your girlfriend!” he yells, and you can practically hear his jaw clenching from the other room.

There’s another long pause and you can hear him pacing back and forth. He laughs sarcastically at whatever has been said to him on the other end.

“Yeah, great idea…you stay there and enjoy yourself. I’ll take care of her. Just like I take care of everything else around here.”

He must have hung up because you hear him muttering angrily to himself. “Fucking, self-absorbed asshole! I’m not sure why I expected anything different. Fuck!”

After a minute or two, Five comes back into the room. He’s obviously still upset but is trying to cover it up. Seeing that you’re awake, he comes to stand next to the bed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“So, I got ahold of Klaus finally,” he tells you.

“Yeah, I figured that part out.” You smile weakly up at him. “And it also sounds like he’s not coming home?”

Five rubs the back of his neck. “It appears not. Not for a couple of days, anyway. Seems like he went with a random group of people he met at a club last night and he somehow ended up in Toronto, the fucking jackass. Without a valid passport! Only Klaus would somehow figure out how to cross international borders on charm alone. Either that, or he blew the border guard.” His voice softens and he looks down at you. “I’m sorry he’s not here.”

“That’s ok. I think I’d rather have you here taking care of me, anyway. Klaus is usually much more interested in taking care of Klaus.”

Five gives a short laugh and shakes his head. “What the hell do you two have in common, anyway?”

“Well…” you smile knowingly, even though just that motion of moving your cheek muscles hurts.

“Ok, no, please don’t finish that sentence. I’m sorry I asked.”

Throughout the next day and night, Five continues to care for you. You’re not really sure why he’s so invested in making sure you’re ok, but you never question him. Instead, you let him fix your covers, and take your temperature, and bring you cold drinks. He makes you soup and watches to make sure you eat all of it. It’s absolutely hilarious to see him like a mother hen, fussing over you and scolding you when you don’t take his directions.

Even though you’re not well enough to leave yet, you are starting to feel a little better. Enough that you’re able to get up and take a hot shower. While you’re in there, Five takes the opportunity to change the sheets on the bed and he helps you back in when you’re clean and feeling more like a human again. Once you are all set up in bed again, you are able to sit up and stay awake, which is more than you’ve been able to do over the past 24 hours. Five stands there at the side of the bed awkwardly.

“I’m really sorry for all of this,” you tell him. “Thank you for taking care of me, though. I had no idea you made such a good nurse.”

Five scoffs, but there’s a small smile there. “Yeah, well…you shouldn’t be. I’m good at everything, remember? Also, I’m not that heartless.”

“I never thought you were heartless. Maybe a little bitchy, but never heartless,” you say with a smile.

“Well, you’re about the only one, so thanks I guess. Although, I’m not sure being described as bitchy is any better.”

You start to laugh, but it turns into a racking cough, and Five looks at you with concern.

“All right, enough talking. You should really go back to sleep.”

You shake your head as you wipe at your watery eyes. “I’m sick of sleeping. Entertain me.”

“Entertain you? Jesus, here I am busting my ass to make you better and now I have to entertain you, too?”

He’s trying to sound aggravated, but he’s not quite pulling it off.

“But I’m borrreddd,” you whine dramatically.

“Christ, fine, I will find something to entertain you, as long as you stop fucking whining like that.”

You smile with satisfaction since you got your way and Five tries his best to look unamused.

“I have lots of books; do you want to read?”

You nod. “What do you have?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, I’m not going to list off an entire library of titles for you. What do you like to read?”

After thinking for a minute, you answer, “I doubt you have any, but I like classic romances.”

Five smiles slowly. “Well, then you’re in luck because I happen to also like classic romances.”

You almost start coughing again with surprise. “What? You? Number Five ‘Hard-Ass’ Hargreeves loves romance novels?”

“I am a very romantic person, I can’t believe you’ve never noticed,” he says with a hand on his chest.

“Oh my god, well now I’ve heard everything. Alright, then, Mr. Romance; what do you have for me to read?”

He leaves for a few minutes, returning with a paperback novel in his hand. He holds it up for you to see the cover.

“Love In The Time of Cholera?” you read.

“It’s fitting, don’t you think?” he answers with a smirk.

“I don’t think I have cholera.”

“Well, maybe not but you have something just as disgusting. The plague, maybe. But this was the only book I have that includes both a deadly disease and romance.”

“I haven’t read that one, but wasn’t it written in the 1980s or something? Is that considered a classic already?”

“Look, do you want to read the fucking book or not?”

You nod with a smile. “Yes, please.”

Five steps closer to the bed and holds out the book for you to take it, but you don’t move. Instead, you look up at him with the saddest expression you can manage and poke out your bottom lip.

“I don’t know if my eyes will be able to read such small print in my weakened state. Will you read it to me?” You bat your eyelashes dramatically.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Five sighs. “Read to you? Are you a child?”

“Please? Come on, what else are you doing? Nothing.”

After another huff and a sigh that isn’t very convincing, Five throws his hands up. “Fine! I’ll read you the stupid book. But you better sit there and be quiet and not interrupt.”

You nod obediently and then pat the empty side of the bed next to you. You were halfway kidding, but after a look at the bed and then back to the chair and then back to the bed again, Five walks around to the other side and climbs in, propping himself up beside you. If his heart is pounding just a little faster from the proximity like yours is, he hides it well.

“Will you do different voices for the characters?” you giggle.

“Shut up. Also, you have a booger hanging out of your nose and it’s making me sick. Get a tissue,” he grumbles.

After blowing your nose and using the hand sanitizer that Five holds out to you, you settle into the covers. But not before you take your index finger and poke him right in his cheek dimple. “I’m ready now.”

He bats your hand away with a scowl as you snort from trying to hold in a laugh with your stuffed-up nose.

“You are such an idiot,” he tells you with a shake of his head, trying to hide a smile.

Five turns to the book and starts reading while you lie next to him. Pretty soon the sound of his voice has you closing your eyes and you sink deeper into the covers. When you hear him stop, you open your eyes and peer up at him.

“Why did you stop?” you ask blearily.

“You were sleeping.”

You close your eyes again and sigh. “Keep reading, even if I fall asleep. I like listening to your voice. It’s nice.”

Even though you can’t see him, you think you hear a breathy little laugh. “Ok,” he says softly, before continuing on with the story.

You doze off again, and when you wake up the sun is lower in the sky and the room is dim. Your eyes adjust to the darkness and you see Five is still there. The book is closed and lying to the side and he is asleep on his back next to you. Then you see that your arm is flung over his stomach and you freeze. He’s still sleeping soundly, so you slowly take your hand back, but not before making sure you get a good feel of his hard abs under your palm. You look at his face and see that it’s softer, his forehead uncreased, with his dark lashes fanned over the tops of his cheeks. His lips are parted just slightly while he breathes deeply and for a very brief moment, you think about running your fingers over them to see if they’re as soft as they look. Instead, you clear your throat and he stirs.

When Five looks over at you, you smile shyly at him. “I think we both fell asleep.”

He runs a hand down his face and looks around him. “Yeah, I guess we did.” He turns back to you. “How are you feeling?”

You nod. “Better, actually, thank you. And thank you for reading to me. I missed some of it, but I liked what I heard of it so far. And I get the gist that this guy in the book is going to start whoring his way around the world because of his unrequited love?”

Five laughs. “Pretty much, yes.”

“Guys are disgusting no matter what time period they live in, I guess.”

Five raises one eyebrow at you. “You do realize whose bed you are currently sleeping in, right? Probably the most disgusting one of them all.”

You frown. “Klaus isn’t that disgusting. He’s just…free.”

Five gives a snort of derision. “Is that what you call fucking your way through several different timelines, including, but not limited to, an entire congregation of his own cult members?”

You feel your face turning red from embarrassment at being one of the many in Klaus’s little trail of conquests, but you already knew that and hadn’t cared before. So, why is it bothering you now? Why do you care what Five thinks? Instead, you change the subject.

“So, you asked me what I have in common with Klaus, but what about you? Why do you live together if he seems to be a constant source of irritation for you?”

Five is quiet for a minute and he sits up in the bed and for a second you think he’s going to leave. But he just leans against the headboard and looks back down at you with a sad smile.

“You’re right, he drives me fucking crazy and I would most definitely prefer to live on my own.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because Klaus is a hazard to himself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Even when we were kids, he was constantly getting into trouble. Whether he was getting bullied by some dickheads on the subway or being used by my father in some horrible way, he was always getting hurt. Both physically and mentally. He’s just too damn trusting. When I was there, I would stand up for him. If I saw him getting pushed around or harassed in some way, then you could bet that whoever was responsible was getting their ass kicked. At home, there wasn’t much I could do about that, but he would come to my room when he was scared or upset and I’d let him hang out as long as he wanted, just to let him talk and calm down. When I left, among a million other things that haunted me during those years, I felt terrible that I had left Klaus unprotected.”

You stare up him, and you can see the hurt on his face as he’s remembering all of this.

“After I came back, I couldn’t believe how far he’d fallen. I know you can’t blame yourself for someone else’s choices, but I kept thinking maybe he would have been ok if I hadn’t jumped. Then, almost right off the bat, he gets kidnapped and tortured by people that were looking for me and then accidentally fucks off to Vietnam to earn himself some more trauma and heartache. Instead of protecting him, I was causing him more pain and suffering and I’d hardly been back in his life for more than a couple of days. So, after a few more screw-ups and a grand old time in the 1960s, here we are again. I know what he’s been through and it’s a lot.”

“So, you decided to live with him to watch out for him? To try and protect him again?”

Five nods. “I know Klaus isn’t stupid. And he’s a survivalist, just like me, so I’m not saying he can’t get along without me. I just feel that I owe him something, at least. And the only thing I can really offer him these days is to try and look out for him. Maybe stop him from making mistakes that will end up causing him more harm in the end. Like taking too many drugs, sleeping with dangerous people, or getting stranded in Canada with strangers. So, as you can see, I’m doing a real bang-up job.”

You smile up at him. “I don’t think that’s your fault.”

Five frowns. “Well, anyway, there you have it. He drives me fucking crazy and makes me want to put his head through a wall most days, but if I’m here then at least I can keep an eye on him.”

“So, am I one of these dangerous people you want to keep him from sleeping with?” you ask just to be a smart-ass and maybe a little flirty.

He gives you a look you don’t know how to interpret. “You are most definitely dangerous, but not in the way you might think.”

You’re not sure how to answer that as you feel your cheeks blush. “You’re a good big brother.”

“Not really.”

You rest your hand on top of Five’s, giving it a light squeeze and he looks down at it. “No, I mean it, Five. You’re a really good brother to him.” And you do mean it.

He swallows hard and looks you in the eyes, holding your gaze for a long time. He gently strokes his thumb against the side of your hand, and it’s the most contact you’ve ever gotten from him. It’s only an instant before he’s taking his back again.

He shakes his head and his voice is almost a whisper when he speaks. “You don’t understand. I’m really not.”

After another awkward moment, he clears his throat and moves off the bed. He pauses in the doorway and turns back to you.

“I’ll bring you something to eat, ok?”

You nod. “Thank you.”

Then he’s gone and you’re left lying there wondering what the hell just happened between you two.

************************************

I thought I had finally gotten my shit together. After that little setback when she caught me beating my meat in the shower and I turned into a giant asshole, we had been back on friendly terms. And I had told myself to stop being a delusional creep and fantasizing about things that weren’t ever going to happen. So far, I have been doing pretty well. Then she got sick.

Normally, the only reason I would care whether or not someone was sick would be so that I could stay away from them. I have dealt with more than my fair share of horrible illnesses and injuries in my life and managed to come out of them mostly unscathed and with no one else’s help. So it’s hard for me to feel too much sympathy for folks with access to advanced medical care and simple things like aspirin or Neosporin. I lost track of how many times I would have killed just for some Imodium and a bottle of Gatorade after eating some not-so-great canned food.

As soon as I saw her all miserable and shivering from a fever like that, though, my heart couldn’t stand it. All I wanted to do was make her feel better and I didn’t care if I was exposed to her germs or not. I would have taken all of them if it meant she’d feel well again. That’s how much she’s gotten to me.

My first instinct was to bring her into my bed, but I quickly changed my mind. I didn’t want it to seem like I was hinting at anything or being a weirdo, so I opted for the better choice of Klaus’s bed. Even though the thought of her being in there, no matter the purpose, leaves me with a gnawing feeling in my stomach. But that’s ok, the only thing that mattered was that she was cared for.

Those first 24 hours were interesting, to say the least. I’m still not quite sure what to think about it. She was feverish and exhausted, and she started hallucinating and talking in her sleep. At first, I didn’t think much of it. It’s not abnormal for people with high fevers to experience these things. But when I didn’t leave her side except to get her more medicine or anything else she needed, she must have realized I was there even if she wasn’t totally in her right mind. She started talking to me, but it didn’t make sense. At least, I told myself it didn’t make sense. Because I don’t want to acknowledge the very unrealistic notion that it may have been her true feelings.

“It’s you,” she had said weakly, her eyes barely open as I sat in the chair across from her.

“Yeah, it’s me. Did you need something?”

She shook her head very slowly and her eyes closed again. “No…I mean…it’s you, Five. It’s always you.”

I didn’t how to take that or how to respond, so I didn’t say anything and she drifted back into a sound sleep.

It had turned dark outside and I hadn’t bothered to turn on a light in the room, but I was still sitting there and I had almost fallen asleep myself. Then I heard her speak again.

“Five?”

I got up and went to her side, and even in the dark, I could tell that she wasn’t completely awake or lucid. She had a sheen of sweat on her forehead from the fever and I placed my hand on her head, hoping the coolness of my skin would feel good. She sighed and smiled.

“You’re hot,” I told her, obviously meaning the temperature of her forehead.

She had laughed dreamily, her eyes still closed. “So are you.”

I took my hand away and smiled down at her, deciding to go ahead and tease her even though I knew she wasn’t with it. “Oh yeah? I think you’re just saying that so I’ll continue waiting on you hand and foot.”

“Nooo…like soooo hot. Can you not be so hot all the time? It’s not fair. With no shirt…"

It was like talking to a drunk person, which I have lots of experience in, from both points of view, and I laughed again. “Ok. Go back to sleep.”

She had turned over on her side and curled up, facing away from me, but she was still mumbling out loud.

“Ok…I’ll do whatever you say, Daddy,” she giggled.

After that, she was back into a deep sleep and I just stood there, frozen in place and trying not to read too much into that. The logical explanation was that she was dreaming about her father in a completely innocent way. However, the other, less plausible one would be that she meant it in a totally different and very naughty way. A way that if I thought about it too much was going to cause me some major problems in the crotch department of my pants. And she had said I was hot, too. Which again, I chocked up to her fever, but still. I didn’t mind hearing it.

The third such incident had happened in the middle of the night. I was asleep and had been for some time. She seemed to be resting peacefully, but I still didn’t want to leave the room just in case she needed something if she woke up. I was still in the chair when I was awoken by her nonsensical ramblings again.

“Why don’t you?”

I rubbed my eyes and got up, standing next to her to make sure she was ok and was going to fall back asleep again. In the dark, she must have sensed me, because she reached out and took my hand and pulled me towards her. She hardly had any strength, so I didn’t have to move, but I did anyway and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Why don’t you?” she asked again, her voice thick with sleep and her hand still latched onto mine.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t like me,” she answered softly.

I didn’t really know if she was talking to me or not inside of her head, but I decided to answer her. “I do like you.”

“Good,” she murmured, and then she was quiet again. I was about to get up and go back to my chair when she started talking again. “I like it when you call me that, you know.”

I frowned. I had no idea what she was talking about. “Call you what?”

“Sweetheart,” she whispered and in the dark I could make out a smile on her face.

My heart just about jumped out of my chest. But then again, maybe she hadn’t even meant that for me. Maybe she was talking about Klaus, or someone else. Maybe it was all a weird dream and it didn’t mean anything rational at all.

I couldn’t resist, though. I took my hand from hers and touched the side of her face, running my thumb over her warm cheek. “Ok, sweetheart,” I said softly and my voice cracked. It was the first time I had said that without being a sarcastic jerk.

She smiled again and then burrowed deeper into the covers with a sigh. “Five…”

I wanted to die right there on the spot. I hated that I was letting myself create this little fantasy world for the two of us. All of these things she was saying meant nothing. She was delusional and not in her normal mindset. These things were most likely complete gibberish and had no bearing on anything. She was probably saying my name because I was right there and she had heard my voice. Or, more likely, she was telling me off in some dream she was having where I was being my usual pleasant self.

But that tiny little possibility for any of that to be true…that was all I could think about. And damn, it was driving me crazy.

When she had fallen asleep while I was reading to her, I kept going for a while because she had said she liked hearing my voice. But when I was sure she was deep enough asleep that she wouldn’t notice, I stopped. I should have left then, but I didn’t. Instead, I watched her sleeping for a while; noticing the rise and fall of her chest and the way her lips were slightly parted as she breathed in a steady rhythm. I wanted to pull her next to me and hold her. I wanted to stroke her hair and kiss her forehead. I didn’t do those things, but I did stay where I was. I laid there next to her, comfortable and warm and I didn’t want that moment to end. I loved it.

Now it’s two days later and my stupid ass brother still hasn’t shown up. Not that I’m really complaining, but I’m sure she wishes he were here. I meant it when I said I know I’m not a good brother to him. I’ve let him down many times in the past and now I’m lusting after his “non-girlfriend.” Pretty shitty if you ask me. Still, he should be here. Leave it to Klaus to up and abandon her when she needs him the most. Although, she had said she was happy I was here for her.

She is feeling better, at least, and is up and around more. We have developed a kind of routine and have fallen into a comfortable companionship. I know she likes chicken and rice soup and not chicken and noodle. She prefers Sprite over ginger ale and her favorite tea is chamomile. She loves the movie Grease and hates any and all sports movies. And of course, she loves classic romance novels.

I’ve continued reading the book to her, even though she’s well enough to continue reading it herself. She said she likes listening to me and I like doing anything that makes her happy. She still can’t get over the fact that the main character in the book ends up banging 622 women during his decades-long fuck-a-thon.

We are nearing the end of the book today and I’m sitting on the couch with my feet on the coffee table (I know…hypocrisy at its finest). She is sitting next to me when she scoots over and lays her head on my shoulder.

“What’s this?” I ask, trying to act annoyed, when of course I couldn’t be happier.

“I want to see the pages while you read. Make sure you’re not skipping anything to get to the end faster.”

I roll my eyes. “I promise I am not skipping anything. What do you take me for?”

“A cynical bastard?”

She looks up at me with a grin and I do my best to look irritated. “Do you want to finish this damn book or not?”

“Yes, darling.”

It’s heavy with sarcasm, obviously, but I still get a little rush when I hear her say it. I want so badly to lean my cheek against her head, feeling the softness of her hair against my skin. Instead, I sigh heavily and open the book.

“Hey, wait, so we’re almost to the end now and Florentino has been whoring around for a long time. I forget, how long has it been exactly?”

“51 years, 9 months, and 4 days.”

“Damn,” she says with a chuckle. “That’s a really fucking long time to wait around. Even if you are banging a bunch of people along the way. I mean think about it. That’s like…5 decades just…putting your life on pause. Can you imagine? God, I’d go insane.”

I’m suddenly very uncomfortable since that statement hit a little too close to home. I shift in my seat and the movement makes her lift her head and look up at me. I don’t meet her eyes, though.

“Oh, shit,” she gasps, covering her mouth with her hand. “I am so sorry, Five. I didn’t mean—"

“It’s fine.”

“No. No, I just forgot and that was a really insensitive thing for me to say, and…god dammit, I always do stupid shit like this. I’m always just blurting things out without thinking about what I’m saying.”

“Really. It’s ok,” I assure her.

She lets out a frustrated exhale and she’s starting to mess with her fingernails like she always does when she gets nervous. 

“Hey,” I say, putting my hand on her leg. “You don’t have to feel bad. I’m not offended. And it’s true, you would go insane. I can vouch for that.”

She looks down at my hand on her leg and I quickly take it back. When she looks at me, her eyebrows are drawn together in concern.

“Can I ask you something, then?”

“Sure.”

“So, I know all about your ‘accident’ or whatever you want to call it. Klaus told me everything and it’s just so awful, Five. The fact that you are here and functioning and not locked up in a looney bin somewhere is nothing short of amazing.”

I let out a short laugh. “Thanks, I guess? Although some days I feel like I should be locked up. But that usually just has to do with having to deal with my moronic family.”

She doesn’t laugh at my joke to deflect, and instead, she continues looking at my face with not exactly pity, but something close to it. It makes me uneasy.

“Ok, well, anyway, there’s something I’ve wanted to know. Have you…have you ever been in a relationship with anyone? Like romantically?”

Well, if I felt uneasy before it’s nothing to how I’m feeling now. I would like to sink down in between these couch cushions and smother myself to death. How am I supposed to answer that without sounding like a fucking lunatic? Then again, if anyone would understand, it’s probably her.

I clear my throat and rub the back of my neck. “That’s kind of a loaded question.”

“Is it?”

"Well, the short answer is yes. I was in a serious relationship for a very long time. Decades, in fact. But that ended a few years back.”

“Oh…I thought you were alone that whole time. So you had a partner?”

“Yes, you could say that. Dolores was more than my partner, though. She was all of the things I needed when I wanted to give up. She was my rationality, my calm in a storm, my teacher and my friend. She taught me love, patience, and perseverance above all odds. She was my entire world and the main reason I’m still standing here today. She was my everything and the love of my life.” I pause and I look her directly in the eyes. “And she was made up entirely of my imagination and a department store mannequin. But she was very real to me.”

She blinks a few times and I can tell she is trying to process all of that. And I can’t blame her. What is the appropriate response to that? If you’re a dick, you laugh. If you’re some sappy, bleeding heart with no control over your emotions, you cry. But if you are a normal, sympathetic person with actual brains, then it gets complicated.

“Five, I…I don’t know what to say. That’s…”

“Sad? Disturbing? The most fucked up thing you’ve ever heard?”

“Beautiful.”

I look at her in disbelief. “What?”

“If she was all of those things to you, then that means you are all of those things. You are the reason you persevered and survived all those years. Because you made sure of it in the only way you knew how. And Dolores was the vessel that helped you compartmentalize everything, letting you deal with the horrors of your reality while still maintaining all of the good parts that are inside of you. It’s brilliant, actually. And hopelessly romantic.”

“No one has ever interpreted it in that way before. Although to be honest, I haven’t really told many people. In fact, come to think of it, outside of my siblings, you are the only one I’ve told.”

“Wow, really? Thank you.”

She sounds sincere and I know she is not judging me. I am very protective of Dolores and if she had said something flippant or thoughtless, I would have defended my lady love. But she didn’t. She understands. Which just makes me want her more.

“You’re welcome.”

“Ok, so other than Dolores, have there been other women in your life?”

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “Yes, there have been. Not many, but a few. And none of them were relationships to speak of.”

She smiles. “Ah, I see. A slew of one-night stands to make up for lost time?”

I chuckle and shake my head. “More like a select few professional dancers.”

She makes a cringey face. “Yikes. I guess that can be fun in its own way, though. Bringing home some hot strippers maybe isn’t a bad way to spend a Friday night.”

“Oh, no, I never brought them home. Or even left the club, actually.” Her raised eyebrows have me laughing. “It is in my personal experience that the adage of ‘there’s no sex in the champagne room’ is not entirely true.”

She draws in a dramatic gasp with a big grin on her face. Then she slaps me on the arm. “Five Hargreeves, you are a giant slut! I can’t believe you give Klaus shit all the time when you’re going around banging strippers in the back of the clubs. What did they do, lure you back there with lap dances? How much does it cost to bone a stripper these days?”

“I never said I paid for it,” I say with a smirk.

“Whoa whoa whoa…hold on. Let me see if I’m understanding this correctly. You go to a strip club, probably buy a couple of drinks, maybe get a couple of dances, and they just magically take you into the champagne room and let you rail them?”

I shrug and drape my arms across the back of the couch. “That’s pretty close, yeah.”

Her mouth is hanging open and I know I’m acting like an arrogant prick, but I don’t care. Her reaction is too funny. It’s also all true.

“Holy shit.” She shakes her head with a smile. “Well, I hope you know that is not the normal experience for most guys. And the fact that it sounds like this has happened more than once leads me to believe you must be doing something extremely right in that room because girls like to talk.”

“Is that right?” I say with one eyebrow raised.

She nods. “I’m not entirely surprised. After I was able to get a quick preview of what you’re working with down there, I have no doubt you left these ladies with some major organ damage and a big smile on their faces.”

Now my mouth is hanging open in shock, but before I can stammer out some words, she starts laughing. It’s immediately contagious and I join her, and I haven’t laughed that hard in a very long time. It feels good and it almost erases the crushing feeling inside when I think about how I never want this time with her to end. Almost.

Chapter Five: Bizarre Love Triangle

The next day you are back to feeling normal again, and you should be going. You’ve missed a few days of work and you really need to get back there. But you don’t; you stay. You like the little infirmary Five has created for you. You feel safe and cared for, and if you leave that feeling will be gone.

Klaus decides to return sometime during the afternoon. He breezes in, smelling of cigarettes and unwashed clothes, with a smile on his face and seemingly not a care in the world. You are annoyed, sure, but you secretly don’t even care that he’s been gone. And it’s just so hard to stay mad at him because it’s Klaus. He is who he is and it’s no surprise, really.

Five, however, finds nothing amusing about it. You stand there and watch as he loses his ever-loving shit.

Barely two minutes after Klaus is in the door, Five is appearing in front of him in an angry swirl of light, already leaning in with bared teeth and clenched fists.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he growls in Klaus’s face.

Klaus, always immune to his brother’s rage, raises a hand to his head and closes his eyes. “Shhh…Fivey…please, can you keep the screaming to a dull roar? My skull feels like it’s breaking in two.”

“It is going to be breaking in two when I’m through with you. What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you have any decency? She has been on death’s door for the past two days and you don’t bother to come home or even call to check in?”

Five is gesturing to you while you stand off to the side, not sure whether you should be jumping in or not. You don’t really appreciate being talked about like you aren’t there, but you’ve never seen Five this worked up before and it’s intimidating, to say the least.

Klaus sighs dramatically and looks over to you. “I’m sorry. You’re ok now, though, right?”

“Uh, yeah, I am…”

“See? She’s ok, so no harm done,” he tells Five.

“Yeah, she is ok, thanks to me. That’s not even the point, though! You need to stop thinking about only yourself all the time. Grow the fuck up and act like an adult.” Five is still yelling loudly and Klaus is flinching with each word thrown in his face. “God, you’re so fucking useless sometimes!”

“Hey!” you interject. “Five, stop. I know you’re mad but you don’t have to be mean.”

He whips his head in your direction and the ire is still there. “Mean? I’m being mean? You do realize he just up and abandoned you, right?”

You stand up straight and raise your chin. “I think abandoned is a strong word. And I’m an adult, too, you know. I appreciate everything you did for me, but I think I could have survived without either of you.”

Five is silent, but his eyes don’t leave yours. He’s still angry, but there’s something else there. Hurt.

“Fine,” he concedes and his shoulders slump a little. “Forget I even said anything. You two dumbasses really do deserve each other.”

After that, he’s gone. Disappeared again before your eyes and you know he’s not in the apartment anymore. You doubt you’ll see him back here again anytime soon. You fucked things up again, and you don’t know how to fix it this time. You look at Klaus.

“Why didn’t you come back? It would have been the decent thing to do. I thought you cared a little more about me than that.”

Klaus massages his temples with his hands and lets out a loud exhale. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be gone that long, and it was a little tricky to get back into the country without documentation. Especially when the guards on duty that day are all alpha males with no sense of humor.” He looks at you with concern. “I really am sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“You seem back to normal, now, so that’s good. I’m glad at least Five was here.”

You nod. “Me too.” You look towards the door, even though that’s not the way he left. “I don’t think he’s going to want to have anything to do with me again, though.”

Klaus is already on his way to the bathroom and he waves a hand in the air dismissively. “Nah, don’t worry about him. He’ll get over it. He always does. Come on, want to join me in the shower?”

“No, thanks,” you answer with a pinched smile. You may not be that angry with Klaus, but you are pretty annoyed. And certainly not in the mood for anything more than chit-chat right now.

It’s later that night, and why the hell you’re still here you have no idea. You should have left hours ago. You just can’t help but want to see Five again and to maybe try and smooth things over. And you’re worried about him, too. Obviously, he can take care of himself, but that doesn’t mean he won’t do something stupid just because he’s pissed off and not thinking clearly. So, while Klaus is in his room sleeping off his three-day bender, you lie down on the couch. You can’t sleep though so you’re staring up at the ceiling in the dark when you hear a familiar whooshing noise and brief flash of blue light coming from the kitchen. You get up and enter the kitchen quietly.

Five stops short when he sees you, his eyes wide for half a second before he corrects himself and he adopts his signature glare. You watch him as he walks to the sink, grabs a glass out of the cabinet, and fills it with water from the tap. You notice how he swayed a little when he walked and the way his eyes were momentarily unfocused. He turns his back to you as he takes a long drink of water.

“What are you still doing here?” he asks after he swallows.

“Are you drunk?” you ask, ignoring his question.

He gives a short and haughty noise, half snort, half laugh, and he swallows down another gulp of water.

“Hardly,” he answers, still turned away from you. He is deliberately not looking at you, probably waiting for you to give up and leave first.

“Yes, you are,” you insist.

Five turns, spinning abruptly around and facing you head-on. He slams the empty water glass on the counter behind him.

“And what if I was? What the fuck does it matter to you?” he barks, his face hard and angry.

You aren’t going to let him win this one. You aren’t going to let him chase you out of there.

“Where were you anyway?”

He puts his hands in his pockets and leans back against the counter. His hair is disheveled and hanging in his eyes again. His shirt, although slightly wrinkled, is unbuttoned just far enough that you can make out the hard line of his collarbone and the outline of his pecs. He is all tense joints and sinew, skin tight and smooth over rippling muscles; everything coiled tight. He notices you staring at his body and he smirks.

“Aw, did you miss me tending to your every need, princess? Not getting enough attention from my dear brother in there?” He nods his head toward Klaus’s room.

You cross your arms defensively over your chest, staring him down. “Don’t you dare fucking talk to me like that, Five. We are past that.”

He gives another sarcastic huff and turns his back on you again. “Go back to your boyfriend. Leave me alone.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you answer flatly, although that’s hardly relevant.

Five doesn’t say anything in response at first and you think you’ve won this weird little game you two are playing. Then you see his shoulders slump and his head hangs down.

“Then what are you doing with him?” he asks quietly.

You pause, blinking into the dim light of the kitchen, watching the muscles in his back flex through his shirt as he presses his palms harder into the countertop.

“What do you mean?” you ask with a tremble in your voice.

Five turns around to face you, the softness you had heard for just a moment gone again. He takes a menacing step toward you and you instinctively back up.

“I mean, what are you doing with Klaus? Why are you with him?”

Five continues to slowly make his way into your personal space. His eyes are dark and he’s breathing hard with anger or drunkenness, or both. You back up, but you find yourself trapped against the wall. Five pauses for a moment, like he’s unsure he wants to follow through on whatever he’s thinking. But then he’s taking another step toward you, and another, until he’s so close you can see the tiny flecks of brown in his otherwise clear green eyes.

You take a shaking breath in and you can smell the whiskey on his breath, and the leathery scent of the soap you recognize from the shower. You can hear the squeak of his leather dress shoe on the floor and the way the fabric of his pants brushes softly between his legs as he moves in.

When you don’t answer, he asks again, his voice low and demanding. “Why are you with him?”

You swallow hard and try to look away, but his stare is too intense. “I…I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Tell me.”

He’s leaning in, trapping you between his forearms as they are pressed against the wall next to your head, his lips just inches from yours as he waits for your answer. You have a feeling he’s not going anywhere until he hears what he wants to hear.

Your voice is barely a whisper when it comes out. “Because I don’t like being alone.”

One half of Five’s mouth curls up in a self-satisfied smirk. When he closes the already small gap between you and him, he rests his hand on your hip as your thigh grazes against his groin. You can feel the firm bulge starting to form in his perfectly fitted pants as you hold your breath.

“Fuck,” he murmurs painfully.

Before you can react, his mouth is on yours, hungry and rushed, like he’s trying to get as much of you as he can before he changes his mind again. But he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he presses further into you, flattening you against the wall, his hands clutching firmly to your hips. The weight of his entire body is pressed upon you, your breasts pushed against his chest and your groin flush with his. You take in a gulp of air between open-mouth kisses, half-resisting and half-responding to his touch.

If he senses any hesitation from you, he ignores it. Instead, he moans pitifully in his throat, raising both of his hands to bunch your hair into his fists. The feeling of his fingers against your scalp is like a spark; igniting the rest of your body so that you find yourself grabbing the back of his shirt and pushing your lower body into him.

His hands release from your hair, only to trail down the sides of your face and onto your neck. Hot and insistent, you feel his fingers tracing over the tendons on either side, across your jugular, and dipping into the hollow curve above your collarbone. His mouth leaves yours and follows the same route of his fingers; kissing softly but urgently in a linear pattern.

You are still grasping handfuls of his shirt on his back and then his chest. “Five.”

You don’t know what the meaning behind you saying his name is. You don’t want him to stop, but you can’t think clearly so it’s the only thing that comes out.

“It’s not fair,” he growls into your skin, moving to the other side of your neck. “Not fucking fair.”

A whine escapes your throat and you find yourself arching into him. Into his kisses and into his body. You want more and you don’t care that he’s drunk or that he all but forced himself on you. You’re not going to push him away and you stop kidding yourself that you were even thinking about it in the first place. It feels good. He feels good. And it feels right.

His kisses abruptly stop and when you open your eyes, you’re met with his intense gaze again. His mouth is parted as he labors for breath, chest heaving against yours. His hands are on your neck again. This time, they are encircling it, his palms warm against your skin and his thumbs on your chin, holding you in place and forcing you to look at him.

Five’s eyes are searching your face, taking in every detail.

“I want you. And I don’t fucking care about Klaus or anyone else. I want you,” he states quietly and breathlessly. “But if you want me to stop, tell me and I will. I’ll leave and you can go back to him.”

You frown, your eyebrows drawing together, as you take in the sharp angles of his face and the evident pain and longing that is written all over it. You could end this right now. He would step back, remove his hands from your body, and let you go. But that’s not what you want.

You shake your head slowly. “No. Don’t leave.”

“Fuck,” he breathes out again as if he’s disappointed in your answer.

There’s no time to contemplate that, however, because you are being hoisted up in one boost, Five’s strength more than enough to lift you easily off the ground. On instinct, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist. You can feel how hard he is as you pass over his groin and he gives a little grunt at the feeling.

It’s all a delirious haze as you cling to him, kissing his face and neck and winding your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. All while he is carrying you down the short hallway to his bedroom, bumping into the doorjamb on the way in, and closing the door behind him with a kick of his foot.

He walks over to the bed, dropping you down a bit ungracefully. Not that you care. You’re too busy trying desperately to shed your clothes as he does the same, the room filling with the sound of your loud and ragged breathing.

Since you were only wearing a t-shirt and shorts, you’re finished before he is and you lie back, watching as he fumbles with his belt buckle and shoves his pants hurriedly down. His shirt is off already, and you take in the hardness of his chest and the way his shoulders and biceps flex and relax with each movement. The tight boxer briefs he is wearing are damp where his hard cock has been leaking into them.

It’s all happening so fast, and he’s on top of you in a matter of seconds, pinning you down to the mattress, both of you naked and clawing at one another. He is grabbing and kneading your ass with one hand while the other one is on your breast, squeezing almost to the point of pain. But it feels so fucking good, and you’re just as forceful; digging your fingers into his hip and raking your nails roughly down the smooth skin of his back.

“Five,” you whine, unable to say anything else as he bites and sucks at your chest.

He’s groaning and gasping against your skin, like he’s drowning; like he can’t get enough. His mouth is everywhere. Your tits, your stomach, your neck.

He lets out a frustrated growl, even as he takes everything he wants and you let him.

“I hate it…” he mumbles, words cut off as he drags a tongue across your hardened nipple.

“What?” you ask after inhaling a sharp breath, your fist tangled in his dark hair.

Five doesn’t stop, even as he answers you, moving further down your body.

“I hate that he kisses you. I hate that he touches you,” he moans, his lips grazing over you and the words hot against your skin.

He pushes your legs apart and you pull in a deep breath, your hips rising off the bed in response. His mouth is on your inner thigh, pressed against it while his words vibrate over and through you.

“I hate that he makes you wet, and knows how you taste.”

Five is on his knees, face buried between your legs as he licks at your pussy, tongue lapping up the continual flow of your arousal and spreading it up through your aching folds. He’s holding you by your waist with both hands, steadying you as you thrust up into him. His mouth is hot and wet as it engulfs you in messy kisses and licks, the tip of his tongue darting over your clit as he drinks in your wetness and swallows it down.

The accuracy is tortuous, as he hits his target each time, leaving you writhing desperately beneath him, biting your bottom lip as you try in vain to quiet the noises he’s eliciting from you.

“Fi-ive…,”you whine pathetically before inhaling another loud breath.

His mouth is off of you again, leaving you soaking wet and desperate for more. Five is back to kissing up your body, going back over the trail he left on the way down. When he gets to your mouth, he kisses you hard and deep. You can taste your own sex on his tongue as it slips past your lips and inside, colliding with yours. As he bites and pulls at your lips with his teeth, you can feel his cock pressing against the inside of your thigh as he moves his hips rhythmically against you.

“I hate that he fucks you. I hate that he makes you come.” He pauses as he lets out another quiet moan. “And I hate that I hate it.”

He has pulled away from you, green eyes boring into you as he looks into yours. He hasn’t bothered with asking if anything he is doing is ok, probably taking your moans and involuntary hip jerks as proof that you were ok with everything. But now, he seems to be waiting for something. An acknowledgment of what he said. A sign that you want what he wants.

“Don’t you know?” you ask him, panting, as you look back at him. “When I close my eyes, it’s always you.”

One corner of his mouth is turned up, more than satisfied with your answer, as he is repositioning himself and shoving inside of you. You cry out, not even trying to hold it back, as your head falls backward and you clutch onto his shoulders. Five’s own loud groans are punctuated by each slow thrust of his hips as he holds himself over you on his forearms. Your eyes meet again, his face hovering over yours, dark hair hanging in messy strands off his forehead.

“Fuuck…I’ve wanted this for so long,” he breathes out, not breaking eye contact.

He’s slamming into you, his more than sizeable dick filling you up with each push. And it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. The way his body fits into yours. The way he looks at you. The intensity mixed with need and want. This is how fucking should feel. And you want to feel this way forever.

He has lowered himself so that your faces are closer; lips just an inch apart. He hasn’t changed his pace, though, still penetrating you over and over again in the perfect rhythm. Your hands run over the tight muscles of his rounded shoulders, nails raking red lines down his back as you lift your legs higher and angle your hips up.

“Look at me,” he demands and you open your eyes immediately in response. “I want you all to myself. I want you to fuck me. Scream for me. Come for me.”

There was no question posed, but you find yourself nodding along, agreeing with each word he says; arching into him and pulling him closer.

It’s not long before the tension is building, the heat spreading out through your groin until it’s no longer bearable. He’s pounding into you with precision and just enough force that you know you’ll be sore tomorrow. But that thought is far back in your mind, and you focus on his loud breathing against your skin, the feral look in his eyes, the way his body moves so perfectly in time with yours.

You come for him, just like he wanted, and you’re loud and desperate; thrashing underneath him, clutching tightly to his sweat-dampened skin. When you moan his name, long and pleading, his thrusts stop as his hips slam into you one more time, his cock unloading inside of you as he shudders and buries his face into the crook of your neck; a painful-sounding growl mixing with his stuttering breath.

Five stays like this, breathing in the scent of your skin and hair, for a minute or two before he lifts himself off of you, lying next to you on his back. He’s still breathing hard, but you can already see the wheels turning in his head; the regret and shame washing over him. You don’t want him to feel like that, though. There’s no reason for him to feel that way.

“Five?” you ask hesitantly.

He turns his head toward you, slowly, hands resting on his chest. You’re not really sure what to say. You want to tell him it’s ok. That you were just as much of a part in this as he is. But you know that will probably make him angry.

“Do you want…” your voice breaks as you look at him, realizing this passionate moment is most likely coming to an end. “Never mind. I can go.”

You sit up and start to maneuver off the bed when you feel his hand on top of yours. When you look back, his face is different. It’s more resolved now, like he’s figured something out.

“No,” he says softly. “Stay.”

“But…” You glance at the closed door of his bedroom, and he knows what you’re thinking because he’s probably thinking the same thing. Klaus. There’s also zero chance that Klaus hadn’t heard your loud cries of his brother’s name and the bed slamming against the wall.

“I don’t care. Stay.” When you look back at him, he smiles just a little. “Please,” he adds.

You return the smile, pushing the covers down so that you can both get underneath. He draws you to him with an arm around your middle and you nestle into his chest. He’s warm and his arm around you is strong, and it feels good.

Neither of you say anything more as you give in to your tiredness, drifting off while Five trails soft lines up and down your arms with his fingers.

Sometime during the night, you feel Five behind you, pressing himself against you and pulling you closer. He’s hard again and lightly kissing your shoulder, running his hand down your arm and then your thigh. You smile sleepily, not even opening your eyes, and push back into him, wordlessly letting him know you want him again.

You’re both caught in that hazy delirium of not being fully awake and Five thrusts into you slowly, rubbing his cheek softly against your hair. It’s passionate and pure, and you might have thought it was a dream if the words he was saying to you weren’t so real.

“I want this,” he whispers into the darkness. “I want this with you. Not just tonight, every night. Please.”

You sigh contentedly, pressing your backside into him as he fucks you perfectly.

“I want this, too. It’s always you, Five,” you answer, reaching your arm back to cradle his head in your hand.

He’s groaning low and desperately, his forehead pressed into your neck.

“I’ll take care of you like you deserve,” he’s pleading as he thrusts harder into you and his hand moves between your legs, urging you on. “Whatever you need, I’ll give to you. I’ll make you happy.”

You whine quietly, already feeling the need for release. “I know you will…I know…” You gasp when he gives one forceful thrust, fingers pressing hard against your clit. “You’re all I need.”

“Please,” he’s murmuring against your neck. “Please let me. I’m all yours, sweetheart. Please,” he keeps repeating, right before you’re both shuddering and moaning as everything builds and you reach your apices together.

The post-orgasmic high you are feeling is mixing with your emotions and your exhaustion, and you blink into the darkness of the room, feeling Five pull out; the hot cum he just pumped into you seeping out and sticking between your bodies. It doesn’t matter, though. He still has you in his arms as you both sink further into the mattress again.

He doesn’t say anything more, and neither do you. You feel him nuzzle into your neck and your hair, his lips pressed against you and you sigh happily. Who knows what the morning will bring, but that is still several hours away, and no matter what, you belong to each other now. You interlace your fingers with his and settle into the perfect curve of his body as you fall back into a peaceful sleep. 

When you wake up, the sunlight is streaming through the window and across Five’s bed, and you are alone. But it doesn’t take long to figure out what woke you up in the first place. Loud voices are arguing, sounding like they are coming from the kitchen, and growing louder by the second.

“You are a massive asshole!”

“Oh, get over yourself, Klaus! You’re only mad because it’s a blow to your fragile ego.”

Klaus gives a sarcastic snort. “Uh, no, actually, I’m mad because my own BROTHER fucked my GIRLFRIEND!”

“She’s not your girlfriend! You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

“What-fucking-ever! It’s still fucked up. It’s still a betrayal!”

You hear Five laugh dangerously and you can picture his stance; body strung tight as a bow, jaw set in defiance, fists clenched.

“You don’t even care about her, Klaus. Admit it.”

There’s a pause as neither one of them say anything. You listen carefully for Klaus’s answer, if he gives one. Finally, he speaks. It’s quiet, but you can just make it out.

“Maybe not. Not in the way that I should, anyway.” He pauses. “But here’s the thing, Five. I cared about you. You know, you’re always reminding me to be careful all the time and not to be so trusting of everyone. Well, you were right; I trusted you and look how that turned out. You’re not my brother. Go fuck yourself.”

You hear footsteps and then the door slams. There’s silence again.

You don’t know what to do, so you stay put. You’re still naked, though, so you scramble off the bed and gather up your underwear and the t-shirt you were wearing. As you yank it over your head, Five opens the door and walks in. He’s carrying two mugs of hot coffee and he hands one silently over to you.

You say thank you as you accept the mug, but your smile of appreciation goes unreturned as Five crosses back the way he came and stands in the open doorway. His face is impassive. Uncaring. The opposite of the passion you saw in his eyes just hours earlier. You frown over your coffee as you take a small sip.

“I heard you and Klaus and I’m so sorry. I know this is hard, but…” you start to say, but Five cuts you off.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Look, I have a lot of things to do today, though, so you should probably get going.”

You flinch at his abruptness and you can’t even pretend to hide your hurt. You see a faint flicker of some emotion in his eyes before it’s gone again. Blank.

“What do you mean? I thought we…” your voice trails off, unable to finish the sentence as the words catch in your throat. You swallow and try again. “You said…”

Five jumps in again before you can finish. “I was drunk, I didn’t know what I was saying,” he replies, his voice flat and unmoving. “I’m sorry if I misled you. Obviously, this was a mistake.”

He says nothing more; just turns around and walks out, leaving you sitting on his bed, coffee cup in hand, and a sick feeling in your stomach. Your chest is tight and it’s hard to breathe. You can’t believe what’s happening right now. How he’s treating you. Your heart is breaking into a million pieces and it’s humiliating.

After you gather your things, pull on your clothes, and pack your bag with the few toiletries and other things you’ve been leaving there, you head out to the living room. Five is there, dressed in his normal black slacks and white button-down, sitting in one of the chairs. He has a newspaper in his lap and he doesn’t look up when you enter. You stand there, staring, until he reluctantly meets your eyes.

You are trying desperately to hold back tears, and for the most part you are doing a good job. But they are there, threatening to spill over at any second. You try to steady your voice.

“I get it if this is hard for you, Five. It’s hard for me, too. I didn’t want to come between you and your brother. But pretending that this was a mistake? That what you said last night didn’t mean anything? That’s bullshit and you know it!”

He cocks his head to the side and crosses one leg over another as he gives you a condescending smirk.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Never heard of a one-night stand?” he sneers.

“Fuck you,” you spit out, your voice hitching in your throat.

You turn away and head for the door before he can see you cry. On your way out, you stop and turn back. He’s still sitting there, looking after you, the same non-expression on his face.

“One last thing before I go. You did this, Five, not me. You pushed me away. So, if you wake up one day and you’re all alone…you only have yourself to blame. Because this could have been something really good.”

You turn and close the door behind you, not even bothering to look back again.

Chapter Six: My Own Worst Enemy

I’ve dealt with a lot of regret in my life. Times when I’ve wanted to kick my own ass and beat the living shit out of me. A couple of times I’ve been successful in rewinding time by a few minutes to fix my mistakes. Other times, not so much. But none of those times, barring that little snafu when I ended up living in a barren wasteland for 45 years, have come close to how much I hate myself right now.

After she slams the door shut, I blink myself over there. My hand is on the doorknob, mid-turn, when I stop myself again. I can’t think straight and I don’t even know what is right or what is wrong anymore. All I know is that all of this is my fault. If I had just kept to myself and kept my dick in my pants, I wouldn’t be standing here like this now. I rest my forehead against the door and squeeze my eyes shut. I briefly think about going back and changing this. I only need a few minutes, not long. I can tell her I’m sorry and that I don’t want her to leave. I can tell her I did mean everything I said before. I can try and fix it. But I don’t.

I slam my fist against the door and kick it at the same time. “FUCK!”

That’s all there is to say in this situation because I may have just lost the two most important people in my life. All because of my stupid, thoughtless actions. I feel bad about Klaus, but I know he’ll eventually get over it. He might not forgive me, but I know he’ll be ok. But her…that look in her eyes when I told her I didn’t mean any of it…I don’t think I can fix that. I wouldn’t even know how, because I don’t think I’ve ever hurt someone that badly and that viciously before. If I have, I hadn’t cared until now.

I had panicked. I thought I had made peace with everything and then Klaus had said what he did to me. You’re not my brother. And he was right. Not only am I not even his biological brother, but I have been on my high horse pretending I can protect him, when really all I do is make shit worse. What kind of a brother, adopted or not, does that?

The thing is, if I had just gone about this in a completely different way, it probably would have turned out just fine. I could have gone to him, told him I had feelings for her and that I thought maybe she felt the same way, and apologize. Maybe he would have been a little mad, but in all reality, he probably would have been fine with it. It’s the way that it happened that really threw a monkey wrench into the whole thing.

I know he wasn’t all that into her, and vice versa. But to take the same girl that your brother has been sleeping with on a regular basis and fuck her (loudly), right down the hall from him without so much as a heads-up-pre-coitus email…that’s probably some sort of code violation right there. Granted, I’m sometimes oblivious to social norms and things other people might describe as “tact”, but I do know this is a pretty blatant faux pas.

I shouldn’t have gotten so pissed. I shouldn’t have gone off to drink my feelings away. I shouldn’t have stayed in the kitchen talking to her. I shouldn’t have done a lot of things.

I was mad at Klaus for not stepping up when he should have, but I was mostly just mad at him for having her in the first place. And then when she came to his defense…that was too much. I had to get out of there before I said or did something even worse. So, I did what I usually do when things get too scrambled in my brain; I went to find some booze.

The bar I chose was the first one I had come across while I was storming down the sidewalk, and I found an empty barstool where I could sit and wallow in self-pity. The place was a total dive, but it was dark and crowded and the bartender had no issue serving me as many shots of whiskey that I asked for. I think I was on my fourth when I noticed the girl on the other end of the bar eye-fucking me. She was cute, with dark brown hair and a minuscule top that didn’t do much to hide her impressive rack. In my drunken state, I found myself staring back at her, which she took as an invitation.

I can hold my liquor, but after five shots, even I’m going to get a little sloppy. Everything was a blur. It was dark, loud, and my senses were all screwed up. She was standing between my legs, leaning in to talk to me, and I could smell her perfume which I didn’t particularly like. I don’t even know what she was saying to me. Her hand was on my thigh and she was purposefully pressing her tits against me as she talked close to my ear. I could feel her hand moving higher up my leg, and she was saying something about leaving together and going back to her place. It sounded like a good idea, but something was off.

I felt her lips brush against my cheek and that’s when I had a moment of clarity. Her voice was all wrong, her perfume was giving me a headache, and if I was paying attention to what she had been saying, I’m sure I would have found her boring. More importantly, she wasn’t her. And if it wasn’t her, I didn’t really give a shit. Grabbing the woman’s wrist with my hand, she stopped her kiss and pulled back, confused.

“Stop,” I said, gradually snapping out of the trance I had been in. When she questioned me, obviously irritated that I would be turning her advances down, I let go of her hand, pushing it off of me. “Go shove your tits in someone else’s face. I’m not interested.”

With a glare, she turned around, but not before she flipped me off and called me an asshole. That’s when I figured I should get out of there before I drank enough that I wouldn’t be able to find my way out. I also figured it would be safe to go home because she would have left the apartment hours before that. Wrong again.

When I saw her there, I just couldn’t keep it up anymore. I couldn’t see the point. And if she had slapped me across the face, or asked me to stop, I would have. I would have been humiliated, but I would have stopped. But she didn’t want me to.

God, I can still feel her body against mine and hear her moaning my name. I can still taste her on my tongue and smell the sweat on her skin. She invaded all of my senses and she’s still clinging to me. I have never begged anyone for anything in my entire life, and yet there I was, pleading with her to be with me. She had said she wanted to, and I could feel how much she meant it. We were going to be happy together; I had promised her I would take care of her like she deserves. It was all right there for me. All of the things I had been dreaming of and wanting for so long. Then I went and fucked it all up.

She was right, too. I will wake up all alone one day, and I will have no one to blame but myself.

It’s a week later, and I’m busy packing up all of my shit into boxes since I plan on moving out tomorrow. I haven’t seen much of Klaus because he hasn’t been around a lot and when he is, he avoids me and locks himself in his room. I had immediately started looking for a new place and I found one that is ok and will be fine short term. It’s also fairly close to her coffee shop, which had not been intentional, but it’s not my fault that’s where it’s located. I’m packing up some books when Klaus comes and stands in the doorway. I look up, startled. He’s holding a bottle of vodka in one hand and two shot glasses in the other.

“Mind if I come in?” he asks.

“Sure, come on in.”

He walks in and sits down on the edge of my bed. He puts the shot glasses on the side table and pours vodka into each of them, filling them to the top before he sets the bottle down. He hands one over to me and I take it from him even though I’m confused as hell right now.

“What’s this for?” I ask.

Klaus shrugs. “I don’t know, but I feel like we should have one more drink together before you move out.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, so I just follow his lead and hold my glass up in a toast before slinging it back. It burns on the way down but it tastes good.

“You don’t have to leave, you know,” Klaus says after a long pause.

“Yes, I do.”

He sighs and looks around my room. “Look, I know this is a weird situation, and I am still mad at you, but that doesn’t mean I want you to leave.”

“You told me I wasn’t your brother and to go fuck myself,” I remind him.

“Ah, yes, well…perhaps I was a bit over-dramatic. I was just a tad hungover still and you were yelling just so loudly. Really, Five, your voice just pierces right into the brain sometimes and makes people say things just to get you to stop.” I shake my head. “No, you were the appropriate amount of dramatic and I don’t blame you. You’re right, I’m a shitty brother and I messed up big time. Which is why I need to leave.”

“Look, Five, I didn’t mean all of that, ok? Yes, I was pissed. And yes, maybe what you did was not the greatest thing ever. But you were also right.”

“About what?”

“About not caring about her. I realize that regardless of our status, I still was a pretty shitty friend to her. I’m glad she had you here. Even if you did rail her hard enough I think even I could feel it.”

I cringe. “Klaus, I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t begin to cover it, but I truly am sorry.”

He nods thoughtfully. “So…how long have you been in love with her?”

I stare, open-mouthed and wide-eyed; dumbstruck. Klaus laughs.

“You think you’re so smart and slick all of the time, but I got news for you Fivey…you ain’t.”

“What are you talking about?” I sputter out, even though it’s about the worst acting anyone’s ever done.

Klaus rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “It’s ok, you can admit it. I’m not dumb or blind. Or deaf, as it turns out. I know how you operate around people, and I have never seen you like you are when you’re with her. You are one smitten kitten and you know what? Good for you.”

I am about to protest again, but when I go to deny it, I realize I just don’t have the heart or the energy for it. “Ok, you’re right, I love her. I’m sorry, but I do. I have for a while now.”

He nods and smiles, not shocked by this information. “Like I said, good for you. You deserve love and happiness in your life, Five. Would I have preferred it to be with someone I hadn’t also bumped uglies with? Probably. But hey, love works in mysterious ways, right? I mean, look at me! I fell in love with someone I met after falling out of the sky in the middle of a fucking war zone. Talk about bad timing! I guess we Hargreeves are good at bad timing, though, aren’t we?”

He laughs, even though it’s more sad than funny and I stand there for a minute in thought. Then I come to a conclusion.

“There’s only one way I’m going to feel better about this and be able to move on with a reasonably clear conscience.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to hit me.”

Klaus looks at me in disbelief. “Uh…yeah, ok, Five. I’m not falling for that.”

I shake my head and roll my shoulders back, facing him head-on. “No, I mean it. I want you to punch me directly in the face. I won’t hit back or defend myself.”

“Five, I don’t want to hit you…”

“Come on! I’m sure you’ve thought about it on several occasions before. Well, now here’s your chance. For the second time in your life, you can hit me in the face without any backlash. I promise.”

He chuckles. “Oh yeah, that was a fun day. But seriously, even if I did want to hit you, which I don’t, I’m not even good at it, you know that. I never have been. I’m like one of those guys in old cartoons where they swing and miss and just spin around in a circle.”

“Klaus, for fucks sake, stand up and punch me in the fucking face!”

After another pause, he stands up in front of me. He’s still taller than me, despite me being at my full height now. He looks down on me nervously and I see his fists clench and unclench.

“Really? You really want me to do this?”

I nod. “I really do.” Then I hold my finger up. “However, just remember this is one hit.”

He shrugs and lifts his fist up, pulling it back and I close my eyes to brace myself. WHAM! He gets me right in the jaw and he is a big fucking liar because he is good at it and it hurts like a motherfucker.

“Son of a…Fuck!” I yell, holding my face. I swear I can already feel a bruise forming and I run my tongue over my teeth to make sure they are all still accounted for.

“Oh my god, Five, are you ok? Shit, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I actually did that!” Klaus is panicking at first but after a couple of seconds, he starts laughing. “I can’t believe I actually did that. And you haven’t killed me or even maimed me! Man, I got you good, too.”

“Yeah,” I mumble, still rubbing my throbbing jaw. “Turns out it hurts a whole lot more when you know it’s coming.” Klaus continues to laugh at my pain, and even though it hurts to move my face, I grin up at him. “This was a one-time offer, by the way. So, don’t be thinking you’re hot shit, because I will drop you without a second thought.”

Klaus gives a sarcastic salute. “Message received, big bro.” He purses his lips together and gestures to the boxes around my room. “So, are you still leaving?”

I nod. “Yes, I’m still leaving. And it’s not even all because of that. I don’t think it’s doing either of us any good to be living together like this. I have realized that I was using you as an excuse not to move on with my life. I told myself I was doing you a favor when in reality, I was just looking for a purpose. Any purpose. But I need to figure that out for myself.”

“Ok, but you’re just going to leave me all alone here?”

I shrug. “Maybe Luther wants to move in.”

Klaus looks horrified. “Good lord, no thank you! You skipped out on the grosser years of having to live with that barn animal and let me tell you, it’s no picnic. I don’t need giant pairs of tighty whities thrown around my bathroom, or having boxes of my favorite cereal eaten up in two days.”

I grin and clap him on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, Klaus. You always do. And you don’t need me to help you do it, either.”

“Thanks, Fivey,” he says softly, before catching me off guard and pulling me in for a bear hug, trapping me against his chest.

“Ah! My face! Let go, you stupid asshole!” He lets me go and I rub at my jaw again, glaring up at him. He is unfazed so I just shake my head. Klaus will always be Klaus, and I meant what I said. He’ll be just fine without me here.

*********************************************************************

“Feet. Off. The coffee table,” I say as I whack at Klaus with a rolled-up newspaper like he’s a cat on a kitchen counter.

“Hey! Geez, alright…keep your shirt on, old man,” he protests as he tries to guard himself with his hands while removing his feet from where they were propped. “What’s got your little assassin bonnet full of bees today?”

“Nothing! Maybe I just don’t want your disgusting feet all over my furniture.”

Klaus tilts his head to the side, looking up at me. “No…I don’t think that’s it. You seem even more murderous lately than normal.” Then his face lights up. “I know! I bet you haven’t been laid in a while, that’s got to be it. That’s an easy fix, too, because I bet if I go outside right now and made an announcement that the infamous and very sexy Number Five Hargreeves was looking for some action, you’d have a stampede of pretty ladies and probably some pretty men breaking down your door.”

“Klaus,” I start to say before he interrupts.

“Wait! Here’s a better idea. Me and you, we go on the prowl tonight. I’ll take you to some great clubs where you can meet someone that’s suitable for banging. Well, they’re not clubs as much as warehouses full of people tripping on acid, but still. I guarantee I can get you laid by the end of the night.”

“Klaus.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

When he manages to look like a kicked puppy, I roll my eyes and sigh. “Thank you for your concern over my sex life, but I do not need to get laid. I’m fine.”

He eyes me up and when I look away guiltily, he gasps with a hand on his chest. “Hang on. Do not tell me the last time you put your banana in a fruit salad was with…”

My silence is the only answer he needs and he gives another dramatic gasp, which makes me grit my teeth together.

“Holy shit, Fivey! Well, no fucking wonder you’ve got your man panties in a wad lately.”

“Again, and I say this with the utmost love and respect…shut the fuck up.”

He stands up. “No, no, no…I will not shut up! So, you’re telling me that over the past six months , you’ve been carrying a torch for her? Wow, that is some romantic shit right there. But still, that shouldn’t stop you from driving the ol’ Pope mobile into some lucky lady’s Vatican now and then.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“We don’t have time to get into all of that right now. Besides, this is about you. I’m serious, Five, you can’t go on re-living your virgin years just because you’re a little hung up on one person.”

I shake my head and put my hands in my pockets. “I’m not just hung up on her. She’s all I think about. All day, all night. I still love her, Klaus.”

I don’t know why I let my walls down just now and told him the truth, but the fact is we have actually been getting along much better now that we aren’t under the same roof anymore. I’m starting to feel a little more comfortable talking about things with him. And the nice thing about Klaus is that he’s done so many weird and fucked up things in his life, he never judges.

“Oh, Five,” he says sadly. “I had no idea. You never mentioned it so I just assumed you’d moved on.”

“Yeah, well…it’s fine. I’ll get over it eventually.”

“You know, the easy solution to this is to walk your cute buns over to that coffee place of hers and tell her what you just told me. Confess your undying love. Sweep her off her feet.”

I laugh and run a hand through my hair. “Yeah, I don’t think that would work. Pretty sure she hates my guts. And for good reason.”

“Listen, as someone who had a very close seat to the ‘Five Hargreeves Fuck-tacular’ show, I’m going to bet she doesn’t hate your guts. No one sounds like that while getting their naughty bits plowed into oblivion and then just forgets about it.”

Ignoring that little comment, I shake my head. “You don’t understand. I really fucked this one up and I don’t think there’s any way to come back from it.”

“Well, all you can do is try. If she hates you, then it’s as you suspected and you can move on. If not, then you two can sail off into the sunset together. There’s really nothing to lose here.”

He has a point, but the thought of just walking in there to try and talk to her is terrifying. I’m not sure I have the balls for it.

“Want me to go talk to her for you?” he asks.

“What? No!” When I see him smile mischievously, I jab my finger at him. “I’m warning you, Klaus, if you go over there and so much as even mention my name, I swear to god I will blink you to Antarctica and leave you there.”

Klaus waves his hand at me. “Please…you’ve been threatening that since we were kids. You really need to come up with something new. But, fine, I won’t go over there.”

When I nod my approval, I assume this conversation is done. It’s not, apparently, and Klaus grins at me again.

“In the meantime, how about I set you up on some casual dates? You don’t want to be out of practice if your lady decides to take you back. What do you think? You up for a game of pelvic pinochle? Burying the weasel? Filling the cream donut? Launching the meat missile?”

I massage my temples with my fingers, trying to fight off the headache I can feel forming behind my eyes. “For the love of all that is holy, Klaus, can you please shut the fuck up? I am begging you.”

He gives his annoying little Klaus giggle. “Sure thing, Fivey. Whatever you say.”

“Thank you.”

Four days later I’m whacking at him with the newspaper again. This time for a different reason.

“Ow! I didn’t mention your name, just like you told me, I swear! Ow!”

“You talked to her and gave her my address!” I yell, whacking at him harder around the head.

“Damnit, cut it out! You said don’t mention your name and I didn’t. She just happened to know who I was talking about. OW!”

I stop my assault and stand there, breathing hard through my nose as I glare at my stupid ass brother. “Why? Why the fuck did you do that?”

“Listen, Fivey, I love you and all but you are really your own worst enemy. I’m trying to move things along for you; help you out. You can’t stay here, all pent-up with sexual energy and moping around the house for the rest of your life. Don’t you want to get out there and live? Don’t you want someone to share your life with?”

I sigh and flop down into an armchair. He’s right, of course, even if I don’t want to admit it. “Maybe,” I mutter.

“Of course you do! That’s what everyone wants in life. And you, old timer, have been given the gift of time and the chance to start over. That’s like everyone’s dream! So, don’t just sit here and waste a gift like that. Not when you could be out there spreading a little of that teleporting-genius-infused DNA around with your special man sauce.”

I make a face. “Gross. Please don’t say ‘man sauce’ again.”

“Anyway…she didn’t say she wanted you dead and she accepted the piece of paper I gave her, so…I don’t know, those are both good things, right?”

“I guess. Did she say anything else?” I ask, trying not to get my hopes up.

Klaus shakes his head. “No, sorry.”

I wasn’t expecting anything, but it still feels like a bit of a blow. I nod, and then I look at Klaus suspiciously. “Did you say anything else?”

He puts a hand to his chest. “Who, moi ? Of course not. Well, I did apologize for everything that went down, but like I said, your name didn’t come up.”

“Hmm…why do I get the feeling that’s not the full truth?”

Klaus shrugs innocently. “I have no idea, but trust me. I bet any day now she’ll come knocking on your door wanting some more of that sweet, sweet loving from you. Just you wait.”

As if his prophecy was about to be fulfilled at that precise moment, I glance towards the door. What would I even say if she really did show up here? I had been avoiding her place like the plague, even though that meant taking much longer routes to certain places. Except for those few times when I couldn’t help myself and I watched through the windows from across the street and then blinked away before she could spot me. Otherwise, the thought of having to face her again makes my stomach churn. So, maybe Klaus did do me a favor. Maybe she really will hunt me down and knock on my door one day soon. If she does, I’m sure it will be just for the opportunity to chew me out. But, even so, the thought of seeing her standing in front of me again makes my pulse race just a little faster.

Link to the next few chapters here!

@baileebear

[hiraethwrote]

VENT SESSION LETS GOOOO — you’re allowed to scroll if you don’t care mwah

i spend an ungodly amount of hours on this app, and i look at you as my friends so just want to let you guys know

i am also a very nosy person myself, so seems only fair i share my own situation. but if you don’t care about all this, you can just keep scrolling. i honestly don’t mind lol

anyways… a few weeks ago, i told you guys i was going through something that was kinda heavy — yeah my bf and i were going through some stuff and started seeing someone professionally… we broke up

there was an understanding that this might be outcome when we first opened up this can of worms, and there turned out to be a lot of underlying issues that both of us had refused to acknowledge

it was definitely a mutual decision. though it’s a hard pill to swallow, we came to the conclusion it was the best for the both of us

we want such vastly different things in life, things neither of us should compromise on. to me, life came at me a lot faster than i anticipated and felt like there were things left unexplored — and neither of us want to hold the other person back from what we want

however, this is a person i have been with for six years, a quarter of my life. there’s obviously a lot of shared history which is hard to let go of. it’s also so incredibly painful when we’re not splitting due to lack of affection and love for the other person, but because our desires and wants in life just don’t align

he is still my best friend, and because of how our life situation is, we will continue living together as we have been doing for the past three years (he only lives here half the time due to work), until i move across the country when summer comes. we’re also going to celebrate christmas together because it just feels right lol

i would say i am doing as well as i can… we are obviously on good terms, but this is probably one of the hardest things i’ll go through. it is the biggest heartbreak of my life. but that is really just a sign that the time we’ve shared together haven’t been a waste. we can be proud of the fact that we’ve been honest, faithful, respectful and kind throughout the entirety of our relationship, to the point where this is so hard even though it’s the right decision

obviously, i am very scared of the path that lies ahead. he has been by my side for the better half of a decade, and i have the privilege of exploring things on my own. it’s obviously what i have been missing in my life, so i am excited for what’s to come, but terrified of living a life he’s not going to be such a big part of anymore

but things are going to be fine. idk how long it will take, i am suspecting very long, but i know in my bones this is for the best for us both. so with time, i will be happy

and not to worry, i have a fantastic support system. i have incredible friends who are there for me. i am lucky to have a family who is not guilting me about leaving a long term relationship, despite also being sad. and i’ve learned i have a great community on here who has showed so much kindness, and i am so grateful <3

that being said — i am not planning on taking a break from tumblr lol. if anything, i am starting to get out of my writers block. this past week i have written more than i have the last month so that’s good! i think i might try and be a little more productive than i have been the past few weeks (at least i hope so, work is picking up again hehe)

not putting this out here for sympathy or anything, but just a little update. i am interested in the lives of those i follow, so maybe some of you are interested in mine

wishing everyone a nice weekend 🫶🏻 i got work in the morning (day after the breakup that’s fun)

[604to647]

Strawberry Shortcake (part 2 of 2)

13.4K / Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Summary: How are you supposed to avoid Frankie when your son and his daughter are becoming best friends?

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Angssssst and mutual pining. Single parenthood, mention of the death of a spouse, divorce (no detail). Mention of f!masturbation, slow burn, nicknames (Shortcake, baby, hermosa), minor appearance by TF boys. Everyone is a dummy. Wee bit of spice for these dummies at the end (no spoilers but let’s just say Frankie may be a dad, but he's also daddy).

A/N: Uhhhh sorry for the word count 🫣 Thank you so much for the lovely reception to Part 1 🥹🍓🍰The feel of this part is very different than the first; due to the setting of Part 1, it was a lot more sensual. This part is more domestic, almost a friends-to-lovers slow burn - I hope people who liked the first part will still find it enjoyable 🫣 Unfortunately, Frankie does not get 🍴😺 in this part (spoiler) which is honestly just a darn shame, so I wrote an Epilogue that I will post together with Part 2, which is a bit more of mixed vibe of the two previous parts. Thank you for reading!

Part 1 / Epilogue / Series Masterlist 🍓🍰

Strawberry dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘🍓

It could be two seconds.  Possibly a whole minute.  Maybe even ten.

You honestly can’t tell how long you and Francisco stand outside the kindergarten class room staring at each other.

At a loss for words, you don’t even know how to begin a conversation that you couldn’t have imagined ever having.  You never thought you’d see Francisco again, and certainly not under these circumstances – that he has a daughter is entirely news to you, though not unfair.  Afterall, he didn’t know you have a son.  During your time together, you had omitted certain personal details out of self preservation and it would seem, so did he. 

After you had left the club, Francisco remained an ever-present figure in your fantasies: your handsome and courteous gentle giant who made you feel safe and desired, and whose touch you only knew once – a first and last kiss that still makes your body strum just to recall.  His soft looks and soulful expressions dominated your nighttime dreams and sometimes even your daytime ones.  He wasn’t supposed to come to life. 

And yet, here he is, standing in front of you looking even more striking than you remember.  Your memories failed to capture the way his brown eyes fleck with gold, or the way the facial scruff you loved running your fingers through is adorably patchy in that one spot along his left jawline.  His hair is slightly longer than you remember, but the curls that peek out from beneath his familiar Standard Oil cap look to be just as touchable as the ones you’d twist around your fingers in that private room at the club.

Your fingers itch as if recalling some latent muscle memory, but it’s Francisco who moves first.

Stepping forward, he approaches you with his hand out to shake yours, “Hi, I’m Frankie. Valentina’s dad.”

Oh.

That’s what you’re doing.  You’re pretending you’ve never met before.

Your heart constricts painfully in your chest as you reciprocate his gesture and introduce yourself as your son’s mother.  Francisco’s smile at your name is kind, but you see nothing more to it behind his eyes. 

It’s not lost on you that this is the first time Francisco has reached out and touched you of his own volition.  Unless you counted that soft kiss you had felt on your back after he helped you redress on your last night together; in this moment, you think you must have imagined it – perhaps it would be best not to count it at all.

Frankie’s warm, firm hand lets go of your softer one as quickly as he had grasped it, darting past you to shake the hands of the other parents standing in the same hallway.  You turn and smile, introducing yourself as well, and for the next several minutes your small group of parents makes small talk about your children and continue to sneak peeks into the kindergarten classroom until the teacher comes to close the door with a reassuring smile.

Once the remaining parents have said their polite goodbyes, you turn to look for Francisco but find that he’s already left the building.  You see his retreating figure halfway down the path to the parents’ parking lot, walking hurriedly.

He can’t get away from you fast enough, you realize, devastated.

You manage to hold your tears in until you park outside of work.  Sitting in your car, you sob stupidly.  You had thought of Francisco every day since you left The Midnight Palace.  Wondered if he had been hurt when he had come back and found out you had left.  Thought about what he might be doing and if work at the hangar was less stressful these days.  Fantasized about where your relationship might be if you had met and dated like regular people.  Heard his soft voice in your head while in bed, guiding your hand between your legs and bringing you to a thundering climax to images of his handsome face, playful smirk and lustful gaze.  But never in your wildest imagination did you think he would pretend not to know you.

The rest of your work day is filled with free floating thoughts about Francisco popping up to distract you from your work - all depressing.

Could he be married?  You suppose you had never asked, just assumed he wasn’t from the lack of ring.  With some distress, you allow that you didn’t know he had a child - a hidden wife wouldn’t be too farfetched.

Suddenly ashamed, you realized that while there had definitely been some kind of connection, due to the nature of how you met, every physical advance had been made by you.  You were the one who had pushed forward your physical relationship, taking every next step that he had never asked for. 

No.  You can’t bring yourself to believe it.  The Francisco you had met didn’t seem like the type to cheat – he had been honourable, respectful, kind.  But then again, it’s possible you didn’t know him at all, you concede sadly.

Maybe his reaction this morning’s reaction had been due to shock.  You had felt it as well, and you suppose everyone processes the unexpected differently.  Perhaps after school you’ll get a chance to speak with Francisco, or rather Frankie, and the two of you can figure this out together.

But pick-up goes much the same as drop-off.  You see Frankie among the other parents waiting in the hall, amiably chatting, and though he acknowledges you with a small nod when he sees you join the conversation, he otherwise ignores you.  You’re grateful for when the bell rings, not sure how much longer you can maintain a neutral expression and keep the tears prickling the corners of your eyes at bay.

The children stream out of the room in a sudden burst of activity, each ramming themselves into a waiting parent, excitedly chatting about their day.  Your full attention happily turns to Raynor, and you don’t even realize that Frankie has left until you see him drive by on the way to your car, Valentina’s smiling face pressed up against the back window waving wildly to your son.

And it’s the same every day after: simple salutations and impersonal small talk at drop-off and pick-up.  More often than not, Frankie barely looks at you - he’s never rude or unkind, but disappointingly detached and uninterested.  It’s as if those summer nights in that private room never happened, or worse, they did but didn’t mean to him what they had meant to you.  It becomes painfully clear to you that they didn’t.

Some time during the third week of school, an epiphany hits you like a ton of bricks: he’s embarrassed.  Maybe even ashamed.  And while you don’t think it’s warranted, you can empathize.  Maybe he’s embarrassed to have seen the mother of his daughter’s friend half naked.  Or maybe he’s embarrassed that someone outside his army buddies knows how often he frequents a strip club.  As far as you could tell, he had been candid and honest with what he did choose to share with you in that room, and perhaps he hadn’t expected those raw and vulnerable feelings to be known by someone he would see nearly every day.  Maybe he was just embarrassed by it all, you.  It crushes you that what are cherished memories for you would cause Frankie any distress, but you’re not so unfeeling that you would want to force him to feel any more discomfort than he already does.

So, you don’t push and you don’t engage; you let Frankie ignore you and even though your heart is broken, you can’t find it within you to harbour any malice towards this man who was once the source of so much comfort and desire.

This works as well as it can until Raynor starts asking if he can have a playdate with Valentina.

“Just call her.”

Completely useless advice.  His friends are full of absolute nonsense suggestions.

Frankie has no idea what to do.  You’re slipping away again and he has no clue how to coax you back to him.  And neither do Santi, Will or Benny, apparently.

Every recommendation they make is predicated on Frankie having not made a total ass of himself since the start of school.  So absolutely useless.  Frankie presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and groans in frustration.  You’re an idiot, Morales.

On that first day of school, he had been so preoccupied with comforting Valentina that he hadn’t noticed you until you turned around in that hallway.  It was you – in a much more covered up state of dress, hair and face softer in the light of day that he had been used to, but it was you.

A million emotions race through his very soul the second he recognizes your face: shock, disbelief, relief, desire being the most prominent.  Frankie’s immediate instinct is to pull you into his arms and cup your pretty face in his hands – to trace every slope and line with his fingers (and maybe his lips) to make sure you were real.

Fuck.  He had missed you so much. 

Returning to The Midnight Palace two weeks after that unforgettable kiss, Frankie had been confused, then worried when you weren’t there.   He knew you were planning on going back to your lab assistant job at the end of the summer, but that wasn’t supposed to be for a few more weeks.  Your unexpected absence left him hallow and worried, realizing that he actually knew very little about your life – something could have happened to you and he would never know.  He had sat stage side with the boys, fidgeting and anxious the whole night; eyes darting to the employee entrance every time there was movement - thinking, hoping you might walk in and flash him that drop-dead gorgeous smile of yours that he took comfort in every day.

But you never showed.

And two weeks later you still weren’t there.  After Frankie had sulked for hours, terrifying the new cocktail waitress with his scowl, Will had taken pity on him and asked Sasha, the dancer from whom you borrowed the strawberry scented glitter gel that he loved so much, and that’s when he finally learned that you had left three weeks ago. 

Frankie was despondent.  He hadn’t felt the way he felt about you in a really long time and he had harboured secret hopes that the two of you might try take what you shared in the private room out of the club, into the real world.  After one too many pep talks from his friends, he finally worked up the courage to ask you out only to discover you gone for good, leaving him no way to find you.  The boys tried to cheer him up by offering to buy him a lap dance, but Frankie had refused – he didn’t want it.  He wanted you.  He had cut the night short and hadn’t joined his friends at The Midnight Palace since; he didn’t need your absence thrown in his face on a regular basis.

He dreams of you constantly.  Hazy, dimly lit dreams illuminated by that smile he can’t forget; flashes of soft curves and barely-there wisps of fabric that laid snug overtop.  Your lithe fingers dance into his mind’s eye until his sensory memory kicks in and his skin prickles while he sleeps, remembering how it felt when you would touch him – silky soft caresses along the worn lines of his face, lips, hands that always made him long for more of you.   He wakes up hard and missing you more than when he went to sleep, deflating when he remembers that he’ll never feel your touch again.

Now here you are and it’s not a dream.  You’re here.  Close enough to touch.

But just as Frankie is about to reach for you, two things happen simultaneously.  The first is he realizes the two of you aren’t alone and that a few other kindergarten parents stand behind you.  He suspects that you might not want to share your reunion with strangers or field any potential questions about how the two of you might know each other.

The second is that he’s hit with a wave of crippling doubt.  What if you weren’t happy to see him?  Maybe you hadn’t thought and dreamt of him every day since that last, incredible encounter together like he did you.  Afterall, you hadn’t left him a note or any way to contact you; perhaps you had put him out of your mind and left him behind as a memory of the summer, much like you did the club.

So, at the very last second Frankie pivots and shakes your hand, introducing himself then immediately does the same with the other parents, not wanting to single you out in front of them.

The look of hurt on your face flashes for only a millisecond, but Frankie sees it.  He immediately regrets his actions, but as the subsequent minutes tick by, filled with inconsequential small talk among the parent group, he can’t think of a way to recover and like a coward, he runs.

Frankie meant to start over with you at pick-up, but once more the two of you aren’t alone so he again opts for a polite interaction over an overly familiar one.  And then his priority is Valentina, as yours was your son, and the chance to reconnect once again slips through his fingers.

It’s same the next day and the next, and the following week and the one after that, until it’s been so long and the list of things left unsaid between the two of you grows overwhelming, that even if you had missed him and wanted to rekindle something, you most certainly didn’t anymore.  Maybe you even hated him a little.

So, Frankie resigns himself to having what he can of you without crossing any lines, just like it was for him back at the club.  He steals glances at you at school when you’re not looking and catches up on your life based on what he overhears you sharing with other parents or when he’s lucky enough to be part of the group you’re addressing.  The more he learns about you, the more he admires you – you make juggling parenthood and an impressive career look easy.  You were still the sweet and gentle creature he had fallen for over the summer, but now he knows you to be whip smart and a wonderful mom.  He didn’t think you could be any sexier or more beautiful than how he remembered you, but he’s happily proven wrong day after day. 

And you still smell like strawberries. 

Sometimes it takes all of Frankie’s self control not pull you into his embrace and spill out his feelings right there in front of your children’s hung artwork, so he tries not to look at you too much.

His heart calls for you.  But you aren’t his to have.  Maybe you never were.

It’s possible that Frankie may have just gone on living with this ever-present dull ache in his heart, resigned to being near but so terribly far away from you, if it weren't for his darling precocious daughter who insisted on being best friends with your son. 

Fed up with her father’s evasive answers and non-committal promises of talking to you about a playdate, young Valentina Morales decides that she’s going to try her hand at those “good decisions” her teacher is always talking about.  She and her best friend Raynor whisper secretly as they exit their classroom at the end of the day, looking up in tandem when they’ve stopped right in front of you.

“Raynor’s mom?  Could Raynor and I have a playdate?” Valentina smiles sweetly.

“Oh!” they’ve surprised you but not really - Raynor has been ask for the same for the past two weeks.  Your son and his best friend look up expectantly at you, eyes full of hope and excitement – manipulative little buggers, you chuckle to yourself.  Valentina’s little smile is especially beguiling; Francisco must never be able to say no to this face. 

Francisco.  Right.  You look up to see Frankie looking at his daughter with a mortified expression – you almost laugh out loud.  Yep, it’s clear who the boss in the Morales household is.

You kneel down to get to the kids’ level, “Alright.  How about this, girly-pop?  I’m taking to Ray-ray to the aquarium this weekend and if,” you pause here for effect and reiterate again, “if your father says it’s okay, you should definitely come with us and we can get lunch, and catch the walrus show, and stick our hands in the touch pools until they tell us to stop.  What do you think?”

Valentina and your son nod their little heads eagerly.  You smile at them and then up at Frankie, the two of you exchanging soft, familiar smiles.

“What about right now?”

Your head snaps back to your son and his friend, the two of them now smiling conspiratorially.

“Mama, Valentina says her and her dad are going to the park right now.  Can we go too?”

Ohhhh… you had underestimated these two.  Completely unable to come up with an excuse on the spot, you open and close your mouth two or three times, “Well… um… I’m sure that… uh…”

Frankie saves you, “If you’re free, we’d love for you and Raynor to join us at the park.  It’s the one a few blocks from here and we were just going to walk.”

You look at Francisco, wide-eyed.  This might be the most he’s spoken to you since the start of school; this smidgen of attention shouldn’t make your heart beat the way it does, but you feel nervous and maybe even excited about spending some time with Frankie after all this time.  Dumbly, you nod.  The children cheer and high-five each other.

The walk to the park is short and easy, the children happily skipping hand in hand ahead of you and Frankie – but between the two of you, there is a vague undercurrent of tension that settles in the pit of your stomach as you walk.  This is the first time since the club that you’ve been alone with Frankie – it’s funny, in the private room you wore nothing but your underwear and never felt as exposed as you do now.

The children run straight to the playground as you and Frankie settle on a nearby bench, sitting on opposite ends with snacks for the kids laid out between you. 

Frankie opens a Tupperware container full of cut vegetables and unscrews a little container of ranch dip, sucking his fingers clean of any overspill; you can’t help but stare, practically drooling at the sight of him popping his thick, meaty fingers between his plush lips.  When Frankie catches you looking, he chuckles and you avert your eyes quickly with a smile. 

To save face, you say the first thing that comes to mind, “That’s a lot of snacks.”

The two of you share an easy laugh while Frankie offers you the container and you gladly select a few cucumber slices.

“Gotta have all the options,” explains Frankie, “Valentina changes her mind about food constantly.  Never know if this is the week she decides grapes are evil.”

“Oh, Raynor is the same way.  Some days I feel like the lunch I pack him is just performance art for the teacher.”

There’s a pause of quiet after you both chortle at the ridiculousness of your children’s eating preferences.  It’s not uncomfortable, but it is palpable.

You find yourself obliged to fill the unaddressed divide between you and Frankie; you’re almost loathed to broach this topic, but you can’t be sure this new pleasantry isn’t a one-time thing so tentatively you ask, “Does Valentina’s mom ever do drop-off or pick-up?  I work at home at night as part of my flexible hours arrangement so I can do both, but it can’t be easy as a mechanic and pilot.”

It’s the first time either of you has made even the slightest allusion to having known each other previously, and though you look nervous to have done it, Frankie finds it a relief that you broke the ice.

“Twice a month I work weekends to make up the hours, but the boss isn’t that strict – it’s Pope,” he grins, and you do too, having forgotten that his friend helped run the hangar Frankie worked at. 

“Oh my goodness!  How is he?  How are Will and Benny?” you ask amiably.

“They’re all great – I don’t see Will and Ben as much as I do Santi, but at least once a week, they come by for tea time with Valentina,” Frankie grins.

Your giggles at this image are so pure and unadulterated, Frankie feels his heart lighten just from the sound.  You seem to have forgotten the part of your original question about Valentina’s mom, but Frankie hasn’t, “… and Valentina stays every second weekend with her mom.  Friday night to Sunday afternoon… so no school stuff.”  He flits his eyes to the playground to check on the kids who are playing some type of pirate ship pretend, and mouths the word ‘Divorce’.

“Oh,” you nod, sympathetically, “I’m sorry.”  You realize this explains why Frankie would only come in to the club every second Friday.

“It’s okay,” says Frankie, matter-of-factly, “it’s better this way.  We’re both happier.  And I think that’s a good thing for Valentina.”

You nod because you vehemently agree.  From what you’ve seen of some of your friends’ marriages, divorce is hard on kids, but an unhappy household is worse.  You follow Frankie’s lead and watch the kids for a bit too before you hear him hesitantly clear his throat, “And Raynor’s dad?  He isn’t one for pick-up and drop-off?”

Eyes shiny, your tone is gentle, “Raynor’s dad passed when he was just a baby.  He never knew him.”  It’s been over five years and your grief still comes and goes, sometimes sharp, other times dull.  Sometimes Raynor will do something that reminds you so much of your late husband, you find yourself locking yourself in the bathroom and sobbing.  Other times, the resemblance will fill you with nostalgia and joy, and you’ll startle your son with your seemingly sudden burst of affection – you never really know how it will go, but you’ve learned to let it come in whatever form it chooses; just feel it and ride it out.  Today, here with Frankie, it’s a small tug to your heart that prickles just a little so that tears mist your eyes but don’t spill over.  You glance over at Frankie who’s looking at you with such a kind and loving expression that you have to turn away, afraid your naïve heart will misinterpret his look for feelings that don’t exist; you finish softly, “It was a car accident.”

Frankie feels his heart clench upon learning that you’re a widow.  He would have never guessed.  At the club, and during the limited time he’s spent with you at the school, you always seem to carry yourself with such an unflappable grace - voice gentle and laughter ready and light.  That you do so having suffered such tragedy in your life makes him admire you more than he already does; Frankie’s heart is bursting with emotion and his hands itch to pull you in for a hug.  Instead, he clenches his fists and says with as much tenderness as he can, “I’m sorry for your and Raynor’s loss.”

“Thank you,” you say softly; you don’t detect any pity in Frankie’s voice – only sympathy and compassion.  You’re grateful for him.

You wouldn’t have predicted it, but this small moment of vulnerability seems to wash away all the awkwardness and hesitancy that you and Frankie never even acknowledged.  Your conversation flows easily afterwards, much like it did back in that private room when you would sit in his lap and the two of you would just talk.  Talking to Frankie now is as easy as it was then - he’s as good of a listener as you remember and his own stories and comments are shared with an infectious light humour, engaging and inviting.  In fact, you end up so engrossed in the conversation, you absentmindedly eat half of Valentina’s snacks – for which Frankie teases you mercilessly.  In response, you pull secret snack bags out of your purse and he doubles over in laughter, “You’ve been holding out on me!”

When the kids have had their fill of play and snack, your foursome starts on the walk back to the cars.  During this time, you easily pull from Valentina that she prefers your snacks over her fathers; you mockingly pat Frankie on the shoulder and declare that it’s about variety.  When Valentina pointedly says to you she hasn’t forgotten about the aquarium playdate, Frankie leans over and whispers, “Now we know why she said your snacks are better,” and you giggle uncontrollably.  Frankie thinks his heart might burst out of his chest.

And that’s how your friendship with Frankie Morales begins.

He comes to aquarium on Sunday and the visit is beyond pleasant, all the more so due to the company – you and Frankie hang back while the kids walk hand and hand from exhibit to exhibit, only being called forth when they need an adult to read from info cards about the exotic marine life.  The two of you chat animatedly with no awkward pauses, the only breaks coming from gentle looks exchanged when you pause to take in the happiness and joy of your children.

You have to admit, in the darkness of the aquarium, Frankie looks exceptionally handsome – reminding you a little of how he looked in the dim lighting at the club.  The shadows cast by the watery tanks accentuate his strong jaw line and aquiline nose, making Frankie’s already striking profile all the more breathtaking.  When you unexpectedly see him through the jelly fish tank, a gasp escapes on the soft exhale of your breath at how his expressive eyes catch the light reflecting off the water; he’s really so beautiful.  You quickly look away so not to be caught in your ogling – the two of you have only begun to reconnect as friends; you don’t want things to go back to being awkward and stilted just because you can’t keep things appropriate.

The walrus and seal lion show put Raynor and Valentina in such high spirits, that you can’t bear to separate them so soon after; all agree to extend the playdate longer to a fun and lively dinner, where you and Frankie show off your crayon colouring skills on the restaurant placemats. The children declare your masterpieces to be a tie.

Your renewed ease with one another and Raynor and Valentina’s fast blooming friendship lead to more afterschool park playdates with Frankie during the week and you hosting playdates at your house on the weekends.  Every so often, Frankie’s friends will organize an activity for the kids; it might be a small cookout, some mini sports game for the kids (t-ball, soccer, touch football), or even one of those famous tea parties that Benny likes so much – but Uncle Santi, Uncle Will and Uncle Ben welcome your son with open arms and you couldn’t be more grateful. 

You don’t have any brothers, and one thing you’ve always felt a little insecure about is the lack of male figures in Raynor’s life – you don’t think it means anything’s missing, but the truth is you don’t know how what you can’t provide impacts your young son.  You’re thankful for the positive male camaraderie energy and filial love that Frankie and his friends demonstrate and shower upon your son; when you tell Frankie this, his heart shatters and soars at the same time.  He finds single fatherhood to be more challenging that he’s sometimes willing to admit, but in some ways, he chose it with open eyes – he can’t imagine what it must have been like to have Raynor’s father, your partner, ripped from you, and have to carry forth taking on both parental roles.  Frankie thinks you’re doing a more than admirable job and when he tells you so, you cry a little.  

You’ve watched Frankie as a father: he’s kind and doting, gentle and patient when he needs to be, and models for Valentina how to be selfless and considerate.  Ever aware of his own and his daughter’s limits and boundaries, he keeps her safe while encouraging her in the most energetic and supportive way in all her endeavours.  You find Valentina to be a charming, smart and forthright child, capable of a wonderful mix of compassion, sweetness and playfulness – her outgoing personality is such a welcomed compliment to your son’s sometimes more cautious nature; Raynor’s own strong confidence often tempering her impulsiveness.  She’s such a lovely friend to Raynor and you find that you love her very much.  You attribute so much of what you love about to Valentina to her fantastic father; for him to compliment your own parenting means the world.

As the months go on, the children’s ever more frequent playdates tie you and Frankie together for most days and even some nights.  Daytime play easily extends to include dinners at your respective houses, and somehow dinners start to transition into movie nights on your couch that are spent with the four of you under blankets and passing the popcorn back and forth.  On that first night of many where the kids fall asleep before the movie ends, you agree with Frankie that it would be a potential disaster to move Valentina too much when transporting her home and risk a full out melt down – you offer the guest bedroom as a much more amenable option.  A relieved Frankie sleeps on the couch. 

The next morning, the two of you wake before the children and meet in your kitchen, already bright with sunlight streaming in through the big bay window that overlooks your backyard.  You realize with an ache that Francisco does smile at you in the morning light the way he used to in the club: soft and disbelieving.  You hope he can’t hear the loud beating of your heart as you make coffee, and try to settle the racing of your heart before the two of your sit at your kitchen counter and enjoy the luxury of a warm cup of coffee in the quiet, a rare respite from needing to cater to the needs of your small children.  The quiet conversation during what becomes a regular weekend morning occurrence is always comforting and comfortable; it confirms what you’ve always known: Frankie Morales is a catch.

During these tranquil mornings, there’s always a moment when you have to catch yourself from falling into the dangerous trap of admitting just how attracted to Frankie you are.  Sometimes you do deep breathing exercises while you rinse out the coffee cups, other times, you’ll have to step away to ignore how sweet Frankie is when he draws smiley faces on the kids’ waffles with the whipped cream.  But you always have to do something.  You can’t let yourself fall for Frankie.

As your children grow closer, so naturally do you and Frankie, but neither of you ever bring up your past together at the club.  Not a word about how you met or what you shared those months in the summer, and certainly no mention of that last night where you bared your body to him and the two of you shared a kiss that still haunts your dreams.  Any time one of you alludes to something about the other that you could have only learned during your time together in the private room, you carry on without acknowledging how you might be privy to that tidbit.  It’s as if it never happened.  And while those summer months live in your memory as a time when you had felt special and desired, you accept it doesn’t hold the same sentiment for Frankie. 

Frankie.  Always Frankie.  You never ever call or think of him as Francisco.  Francisco is a man who only exists in your dreams – a fantasy who openly desired a you who was sexy, in control and mysterious.  He was kind, respectful, and made you feel gorgeous and wanted.  For your own sanity, you force yourself to separate him from Frankie.  Frankie is the father of your son’s best friend.  You’re no mystery to him: he sees you at your most frazzled, tired - when you forget it’s pizza day or when you’re so late for drop-off that you’re still tucking your shirt into your skirt while rushing Raynor down the path to school.  He’s kind and respectful as well, but about different things – he understands your struggles as a single mom and knows just how to lift your spirits and encourage you when you need it the most or lends a helping hand with the kids and household tasks before you even had to ask.  He makes your life happier, lighter. 

Francisco had been yours for a short time, and for that you remain grateful, but he wasn’t someone you would ever hold or kiss; you’d never know him like you had known him for those sweet summer months.  He was gone.

Frankie is your friend.  He’s here now and you don’t ever want to lose him.

You don’t conflate the two men because you can’t – it’s too dangerous to want something that isn’t meant for you.  So, you mourn Francisco and you cherish Frankie, always holding yourself back from loving him, except perhaps in the deepest, most secret chambers of your heart.

Raynor’s birthday party is in full swing.  You found one of those bouncy castle rental places that set-up inflatables in people’s backyards for a totally reasonable price and now your backyard is full of happy, bouncy kids having the times of their lives tumbling and scrambling through giant blow up houses and castles; there’s even a maze that ends in a massive ball pit.  There are kids from school, kids from the neighbourhood, a few of your friends and co-workers’ kids, and even some kids whose moms have moms that play mahjong with yours.  Raynor is over the moon and as far as you’re concerned, the more the merrier.

Frankie and Valentina had come over before the party started; Valentina wanting to give her best friend his present early and maybe sneak in some extra bouncy castle time.  While the kids bounced, Frankie helped you set-up tables and chairs and inquired if he could run the BBQ for you; you had protested, saying that you would be able to handle it, but Frankie insisted.  Now that the party is underway, you have to admit that between greeting all the kids and parents, supervising the bouncy castles and making sure that drinks and snacks are readily available, you would have struggled to cook lunch as well.  As a bonus, you admit, grinning to yourself, Frankie is looking pretty good at the grill.

Getting an early start on dishes before prepping the cake, you have the perfect view of Frankie through your kitchen window; turning over hotdogs with his tongs and plating cooked hamburger patties in an adorable blue apron, Frankie looks positively delicious.  His tan face brightened by his good mood and sweat from the heat of the grill dotting his rugged neck, he’s smiling a smile that reveals his elusive dimple as he takes pride and joy in his domestic responsibility. 

Maybe, you think, just maybe you can allow yourself just one moment of fantasy where the food Frankie’s currently grilling is the main course to a side salad you’re preparing in the kitchen of the house the two of you share.  And he’ll come in when the meat’s done the way he knows you like and wrap his arms around you from behind, pressing sweet, but hungry kisses to your neck before murmuring cheekily that he really could eat.  In your daydream, you squeal when he spins you around with blinding speed before sighing into the slow, tender kiss pressed to your lips. 

And perhaps your imagination might even take your make believe even further if at that exact moment you didn’t see Amanda, your mom’s mahjong friend’s daughter sauntering up to the grill flirtatiously.  The happy illusion you conjured dissolves as you watch her chat up Frankie and put her arm on his bulging bicep just before his piercing brown eyes crinkle and he throws his head back in a loud laugh at her touch.

Immediately, your eyes fill with tears and the devastating scene in front of you blurs.  Unable to stop them from spilling over, you strip off your dishwashing gloves and run to the bathroom as quickly as you can; locking the door behind you, you lean over the sink and sob.

Stupid.  Stupid.  Why are you crying?  Frankie isn’t yours. 

If anything – he’s less likely to be yours than anyone else’s; the two of you forever separated by your shared past at the club that embarrasses him so.  And yet, you can’t help wanting him, and not even Francisco, but Frankie – the considerate man who derives simple joy from helping others, whose unwavering support has made you a more lighthearted, joyful parent, and who has readily taken up the mantle of being a calm and stable presence in your son’s life.  It seems this same Frankie can also be flirty and coy, but that was for other women.  Not you. 

Stupid.  Stupid.  He doesn’t want you. 

But you still wanted him.  Gosh, you wanted him so much.  But he isn’t yours to have.

It's so dumb to cry over a boy, you tell the tear-stained you in the mirror.  You grin, imaging yourself saying that to an older Valentina one day; but even that small comfort is ripped from you as you realize with sadness that it may not be your place.  No.  Frankie will meet someone, it’s inevitable.  He’s sweet, smart, funny and kind, and stupidly gorgeous – one day, there will be a woman who captures his heart and then you’ll have to give up your friendship for fear of succumbing to a broken heart.

Wiping away your tears and cleaning up the best you can, you tell mirror you to get it together.  It’s your son’s birthday – today is about him and not your pathetic pining over his best friend’s father.  The comically accusatory look you give yourself galvanizes you enough to exit the bathroom, and you walk back to the kitchen ready to finish your chores and check in on the party.  Instead, you find the object of all your desires and the source of your current distress waiting for you in the kitchen.

---

Frankie’s sweating – the BBQ is hot and the party guests are gobbling up everything he cooks before he even has a chance to put more on the grill.  As sweltering as it is, he’s very glad to play grill master if it means one less thing for you to have to do.  He’s spent most of the party watching you juggle your multiple roles with hurried grace: mom, party host, snack fetcher, drink refiller, clean-up crew, boo-boo fixer.  When he saw you bravely dive into the ball pit to help a child find her lost shoe, he had grinned to himself so goofily he almost burned the chicken wings. He didn’t think he could be more hopelessly in love with you, but he should have known you would prove him wrong, as you often did with matters of his heart.  The only downside to being stationed at the BBQ is that he hasn’t spent any time with you today.  He thinks he saw you duck back into the house with a stack of dirty dishes – have you eaten today?  He closes up the grill and does a quick check on Valentina and Raynor before plating you some food and heading in.

He's just been standing in the kitchen wondering where you were for a few minutes when you emerge looking a bit off coloured and somewhat startled to see him.

In what has now practically become second nature, Frankie forces his body to ignore the near constant urge to reach out to you – his immediate impulse being to hold you close and stroke your face with his fingers to soothe and comfort you.  You wouldn’t want that, though. 

Instead, he shows his concern another way; holding out the plate of food in front of him, he looks at you with some tenderness, “Have you eaten, Shortcake?”

Heart racing upon hearing this long lost term of endearment, you’re too stunned speak, able only to silently shake your head in response.

Frankie knows that you’ll come up with some excuse to put your needs behind that of the party goers, so he puts the plate down on and guides you to sit before you can do so, “You have to eat.  I’ll keep an eye out on things from here.”

Admittedly, you’re starving and the food Frankie’s brought you smells mouth watering good; with a small nod of thanks, you acquiesce.  For several minutes there’s a comfortable silence while you eat and Frankie looks out the window to keep watch on the party.  Between bites, you gaze adoringly at the handsome profile of the sweet man before you - he knew you hadn’t eaten and he came to take care of you, feed you with food he cooked himself.  Your heart swells at his thoughtfulness and quietly you say, “You haven’t called me that in a long time.”

Frankie looks back at you.  He doesn’t need to ask what you mean, “I didn’t think I should.  Not in front of the other parents.”

You nod, understanding, “I guess it would be rather embarrassing to have to explain.” 

Brows furrowing, Frankie looks at you for a beat before turning to face you fully, trying to keep his voice even, “I want you to know, I would never tell anyone about the club… please know, I’m not embarrassed by it and I don’t think you should be either… not saying you are, just that you don’t have any reason to be… but some people can be weird and judgemental about that kind of thing… I want you to rest assured that I won’t ever put you in a position like that.”

It’s the first time since the start of the school year that Frankie’s acknowledged how the two of you met or even mentioned the club – it never occurred to you that his avoidance of the topic was to protect you.  For the billionth time since you met him, you’re touched by the considerate nature of this man, “Thank you, Frankie.  I wasn’t worried that you would, but I appreciate you looking out for me.”

“Always, Shortcake.”

The two of you exchange a soft smile, not unlike the ones you used to share back at The Midnight Palace, as if you’re each thinking back to your time together there.  Afraid of becoming too wistful, Frankie jokes lamely, “Plus, I would be outing myself as a loser who has to pay a beautiful woman to talk to me every two weeks.”

Even if he’s saying it like a joke, there’s an undercurrent of melancholy to Frankie’s tone that you don’t understand – but you try to reassure him anyways, “No, no - don’t say that, Frankie.  I could never think you’re a loser.  And it was never about the money for me – I wanted to talk to you, really.”

Lifting his cap and running his hand through his hair before rubbing the back of his neck, Frankie chuckles softly, “Ok, thanks… that’s good to hear.”

It strikes you that he may be looking for some similar reassurance that you won’t “out” him, the way he had assured you, “And same here.  I would never share that about you.  You’re right, you never know how people might react to that kind of thing.  I look back at the time we spend together so fondly and I’m so very appreciative of how well you treated me… I could never forgive myself if how we met somehow caused you any problems, or got in the way of anything you wanted.  So, please don’t worry about me telling anyone either.”

Your wording choice seems a bit odd to Frankie, but still, his heart perks up a little to hear you say that your memories of your time together at the club are pleasant, and he simply says, “Ok, thank you.”

You didn’t realize that having this unspoken thing between you and Frankie had been like an albatross around your neck, but suddenly you feel a lot happier and cheery.  Having finished your food, you clean up after yourself and head to the fridge, chirping, “Do you mind helping me with the cake?”

You know Frankie’s answer without even seeing him nod; this generous man has never turned down an opportunity to help you.  When you place the cake in front of him, he beams, “Oooh!  Strawberry shortcake!  My favourite.”

Smiling, you say somewhat shyly, “I remember.”  Your mind immediately travels back to sitting in Frankie’s lap, scantily clad, the very glitter gel that inspired him to tell you this fact about himself spread generously over the ample curve of your breasts.  Frankie’s mind goes straight to the same memory and his face reddens.

Practically stuttering, you try to explain, “… but that’s not why I made it!  Raynor requested the cake!”

Your flustering doing nothing but endearing you to him further, Frankie can’t help but tease, “Sure, sure.”

You swat at his arm, playfully, “He did!”

Grinning, Frankie lets you off the hook, “Okay, okay - lil’ dude has good taste in cake then.”

And though your heart is still far from healed, this is the best you’ve ever felt around Frankie, so reminiscent of how he and you would flirt and tease back when you first met, easy laughter always coming naturally to the two of you.  You smile gratefully at him and pretend not to notice when he steals two strawberries off the top of the cake while you go to get the candles.

---

“Hey, come look.”  Frankie calls to you softly from the kitchen doorway that leads to the living room.  Putting down the containers of leftover food you were trying to fit into the fridge, you wander over to be greeted by the sight of Raynor and Valentina completely passed out on the couch.

A smile comes over your face when you hear their peaceful snores and you whisper to Frankie, “Can I admit something to you?  It’s been ages since Raynor dropped his nap, but sometimes I really miss it.”

“Oh, I know.  Sometimes I want to say to Valentina that she might be willing to give up naps, but I never agreed to forgo MY nap.”  The two of you chuckle heartily. 

If it were Friday or Saturday, you would offer to let them sleep and then stay up for a late sleepover, but tomorrow is the start of the school week, “What do you say we let them sleep for… an hour?  Enough to burn off today’s sugar, but not too long to ruin bedtime?”

“Sounds good.  I can help you clean up.”

You try to protest, Frankie has already helped so much with the party today, “Oh!  Don’t feel like you need to at all!  You’ve already helped me so much today, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.  You really can just put on some TV or something.  Sit and relax, I’ll bring you a drink.”

Frankie cocks his eyebrow at you, and it takes you a minute to realize the humour in you offering to serve him a drink.

“No!  That’s not what I was… shut up!” you laugh, spinning to return to the kitchen with Frankie following, snickering.

The two of you in good moods start to do the dishes, you washing and him drying – him knowing where to put things away, having done this with you many times over the last several months.  It’s quiet and comfortable.  You hum to yourself a little, and while you seem content – the party having gone off without a hitch, Frankie can’t help but remember the sad look on your face from when he had come into the kitchen earlier to bring you food.  He could have sworn you had been crying.

“You had an okay day, Shortcake?”

You nod, “Just a little tired, maybe?  But it was so worth it.  The kids all had so much fun!”

It was just like you to put others before yourself, Frankie thinks; he finds it to be one of your sweetest traits, but wishes you would take care of yourself too.  Maybe let someone take care of you.  He tries to push down the plea from his heart that wishes he could be that someone.

He’d like to think he’s gotten rather good at reading you after all this time together and is sure that there’s something still bothering you.  While he dries the dishes, he thinks back to your conversation earlier; it had a been a long time coming and he’s glad the two of you finally ripped the band aid off the one topic you never seemed to talk about.  He didn’t know how heavily your opinion of the time you shared in the private room mattered to him until he heard you say that you looked back upon it fondly.  Upon him fondly.  That you hadn’t thought him a total creep.  He had felt a weight lifted off him immediately, and in truth, a little hope started to burrow into his heart that maybe that time had meant something to you the way it did him.  He suddenly recalls something you said that he remembers puzzling over, but hadn’t asked you about at the time.

“What did you mean earlier when you said you didn’t want how we met to ‘get in the way’?  Get in the way of what?  You said something I wanted.”

“Oh,” you look down, embarrassed at the tears that are starting to form at just the thought of Frankie dating, “I just meant… like you said, sometimes people get weird and judgmental about strip clubs… and if you were interested in someone… like that girl, Amanda?  I wouldn’t… I mean…”  You’re tripping over your words.  The last thing you want to talk about is Frankie being interested in someone else, the whole concept feels like a vice around your heart.  “… you shouldn’t be judged for something like how you and I met before they get a chance to know you.  You’re so sweet and respectful, and just kind and such a good father… but… I… any girl would be lucky to date you.  And I would never want to get in the way of that,” you finish lamely.

“Is that what you want, hermosa?” Frankie takes a step forward, causing you to look up.

There’s a look in Frankie’s eye that you haven’t seen before.  No, wait – that isn’t exactly true.  You’ve seen it before but on Francisco’s face.  It was the expression he had sometimes when you would just look at each other, no words exchanged – one filled with longing and desperation.

“You want me to date other girls?” he practically spits out the words, as if they don’t belong anywhere near his mouth.

You don’t know how to answer, except honestly. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” you say quietly.

Frankie looks at your fallen face and thinks he might have to walk back his earlier self assessment that he knows how to read you.  You seemed sad, disappointed – but why?  A big part of him just wants to comfort you and make you feel better, regardless of the cause of your unhappiness; but another part of him, the part where hope had been planted earlier and is starting to grow at a rapid pace, watered by the mere idea that you might care at all who he dated, has to know if you feel something for him.  His selfishness wins out and he decides to go for broke, “It matters to me what you want.”

Your eyes soften at this declaration, and the downturn of your mouth rights itself slightly into a quizzical ‘O’, but still you say nothing so Frankie presses on.

“It matters because I’ve thought about you every single day since I met you.  The whole summer, all I thought about your sweet laugh and the way you always smiled at me like what I was saying mattered to you.  And how those pretty eyes of yours would light up every time you said something you already knew was really funny and you were just waiting to see if I would catch on and laugh.  I thought about what it would be like to take you out, court you, treat you like you deserve.  Hold you without a time limit,” the look Frankie gives you at this confession is of both despair and relief, as a dam has broken and now nothing can stop his words from overflowing. 

“And since that first day of school when I found you again, I’ve only thought of you more.  I think of the way you’re so full of patience and compassion, and that your son is so kind and considerate because of you.  And that my daughter and I are so lucky to have you both in our lives.  I think about how Valentina told you once that she liked those cheese biscuits you made, and now every time you bring her a snack, there’s always at least one included.  I think about how you always take of others and how everyone around you is happier for being in your presence.  I think about how I want to take care of you too.  I think about how I used to think you were beautiful in that club, but now you blow me away time I see you at school, or in the park, or when we’re just hanging out with the kids.  I think the way you look in the kitchen on those mornings when it’s just you and me before the kids wake up is the most gorgeous a person has ever looked.  It makes me think about how much I wish I was waking up next to you instead of just meeting you in the kitchen.  I think about what it would be like to fall asleep holding you.  I think about making you feel good, the way you deserve to feel good.  I think about what it would be like to take you to bed and make you scream my name.”  You’ve never heard Frankie talk like this before and your breath hitches in your throat – this is everything and more that you’ve always dreamed of hearing him say; you’re afraid to interrupt, for fear he might say it’s a mistake and take it all back.

Frankie seems to collect himself, calming, “Did you know the night I went to the club and you were gone, I was going to ask you out?”  You shake your head, you didn’t know – you had harboured your own hopes, of course, that you and Francisco might see each other outside of the club, but the possibility seemed so slim and laughable, you had never even spoken them out loud.

“The guys finally hyped me enough to convince me you might say yes.  I wasn’t sure, you know?  I only saw you every two weeks, and I thought I was probably making more of our time together than it really was… it would have been perfectly within your rights if you were… just doing your job, you know?” Frankie is miserable at the thought.  In truth, he still harbours this insecurity – since the two of you have reconnected, you haven’t given him any indication that you had thought him as more than just some patron you had to entertain every two weeks.  Then again, the two of you never spoke of the time at the club at all; he had worried that this was a sent message in and of itself.  Moreover, you haven’t said anything since he started his confession and he’s starting to think he might just be humiliating himself and ruining your friendship at the same time.

You shake your head violently.  No, no, no.  This won’t do at all! You really don’t know how Frankie could have ever thought that, but then again, you had thought he was ashamed of your time together – you can’t let another minute go by without him knowing how you felt, how he made you feel, “No, please, Frankie – don’t ever think that please.  It wasn’t my job – I never went to the room with anyone but you.  I never wanted to go with anyone but you.  I only wanted you.  I looked forward to out time together and every two weeks never felt like enough.  You were so sweet and respectful, and you made me feel so perfect and desired, and so very cherished.  I wanted you more than you know, Frankie.  Everything that happened in that room, everything I said, everything we did – I loved it all.  It was real to me.”

“Yeah?”  Frankie’s feels hope he’s never felt before when he sees you smile and nod, “When you weren’t there, I was so confused.  You didn’t say goodbye, so I didn’t know if something had happened to you, or if you were sick, or… I don’t know.  Then I realized, you didn’t owe me a goodbye – I was just some guy whose lap you sat in…”

“Oh baby,” you reach out to touch his face.  Baby.  Frankie closes his eyes and leans into your touch.

“I’m so sorry!  I wanted to leave you a message, but I… didn’t know what to say.  I didn’t know what was okay to ask from you.  Maybe I was just a girl who sat in your lap, you know?”

Eyes still closed, Frankie nuzzles deeper into your palm, “No, hermosa… you weren’t.  You’re so much more than that.  You’re everything to me.”

Tears now prick at the corners of your eyes for a much happier reason and you cup Frankie’s face fully in your hands and soothe him by scratching his scruff, hoping he’ll recall the affectionate gesture as you say sincerely, “I would have said yes.”

“Hmmm?” Frankie revels in the feel of your soft strokes on his face – this simple but loving gesture taking him back to the club when he had you to himself, when his want for you always simmered close to the surface but where he wasn’t allowed to let it boil over.  But he’s not at the club now.

Smiling wide, your heart bursts with joy and affection for this sweet man in front of you that you’ve wanted for so long - you never want him to be unsure of your feelings for him ever again, “I would have said yes, if you had asked me out.”

“Yeah?”  Finally allowing himself to believe that you return his affections, that you’ve always felt the same for him as he did you, Frankie opens his eyes and allows his grin to overtake his face.

He’s so cute and boyish when he smiles like this – you spy that cute dimple making its appearance again and you beam back, “Yeah.”

Happy emotions spilling over, Frankie breathes out the question that he’s wished to ask since the first night he laid eyes on you, “Can I touch you, Shortcake?”    

Voice husky and so full of need you’re practically vibrating, you nod with conviction, “Yes please, Francisco.”

Upon hearing his full name roll so sweetly off your tongue, the only name you ever called him back at the club, Frankie closes the remaining distance and is on you in an instant - lips crashing to yours with a force that nearly knocks you off your feet.  His hands immediately encircle your waist to catch you just as you throw your arms around his neck and pull him close. 

It’s another first kiss of sorts, this one needy and expressive and full of emotions previously thought unrequited.  You kiss Frankie like you can’t quite believe you are, part of you still can’t - by some miracle of a second chance, he’s here: Francisco is here and he’s real.  And he’s also Frankie, who knows you in the real world and still wants you.  The very thought makes you dizzy and you take off his worn cap so you can thread your fingers through his soft curls for something to ground yourself.

Your mouths clash and tangle, every brush of your lips is frenzied, desperate, greedy.  Frankie urges you to open your mouth to his and when you welcome him, he licks in, over and over, exploring and claiming every soft moan you emit as his own.  His tongue slides alongside yours reassuringly and lets itself be captured by your teeth; you teasingly tug and suck on the muscle before letting it invade your mouth once more. 

You’ve dreamt about your and Francisco’s first kiss a hundred times, but this, this first kiss with Frankie is something for the books.  He can touch you – his hands won’t stop touching you and it makes your entire body sing.  Frankie cradles you head in his big hands and lightly tugs your hair back so that you arch into to him.  Once he’s satisfied, his hands roam your back, stroking up and down your spine with that just right pressure that toes the line between relaxing and electrifying; you want to melt into his touch and let him caress you with this type of reverence everywhere.  Then when his hands wander down over the plush globes of your ass with feather light touches, you giggle from the ticklish feel only to dissolve into a puddle when he grabs fistfuls of your cheeks and kneads – his hands so big that the tips of his fingers nearly graze the core of you that’s already warm and clenching just from all this kissing.  And throughout all this touching, as if to make up for lost time, Frankie never stops kissing you.  He kisses you like he’s been starving for your touch, because he has – and now that he’s been given the go ahead to satiate his hunger, he positively devours you.  You think you might pass out from the way Frankie kisses.

As he continues to overwhelm your senses, Frankie slowly walks you backwards towards the dining table and helps you hop on top; without being asked, you spread your legs to accommodate his width as he presses himself against your centre; unable to help from grinding against him, you’re sure Frankie can feel how wet you are through your leggings.  You lean back, putting yourself on display and he takes the invitation readily, kissing down your neck sensually and teasing you slowly - a marked contrast from how greedy he’s been with your mouth.  First, he lets loose breathy groans by your ear right before lightly nibbling your earlobe and leaving you shivering.  Then, Frankie places fluttering kisses that alternate with the nuzzling from his strong nose below your ear; the subsequent transition to open mouth kisses, all nips and sucks, down your neck that ending in the laving of his tongue across your collar bones has you gasping for air.

Lightheaded and giddy, all you can do is take and whimper words of praise that have Frankie moaning against your skin:

“Oh god, Frankie, that feels so good.”

“Fuck, baby, right there… yes, oh god, right there.”

“Never stop, please.  Please, Francisco, I’ve wanted this for so long, I – OH!”

Frankie’s hands have found your chest, groping and palming – somehow managing to zero in on your nipples even through the layers of your shirt and lingerie.  He pinches and twists, tugs and rolls as you throw your head back and positively whine.  Chuckling into the sweet spot at the bottom of your neck, he murmurs, “Can’t wait to see you in some slutty lacy thing again, Shortcake.”

You’re practically bucking into him now - wet and throbbing, all the build up to this moment has the waves of your desire and arousal cresting shamefully quick; you’re starting to feel the telltale coil below your belly tighten when you realize with a start - “Frankie!  We can’t!  The children!”

Frankie looks like he wants to say something else as he pauses in his efforts, but he stops and presses his forehead to yours, panting, “Right, the children.”  And mutters something about how this might be worse than the no touching rule.

You giggle. 

Looking at you with a mixture of unadulterated joy and devotion, Frankie finally asks, months in the making, “Next weekend when Valentina’s at her mom’s, can I take you out, Shortcake?  Like a real date?  Dinner?”

Shyly, you nod, “It’s a date, Francisco.” And you press your lips hard to the giant grin that spreads across Frankie’s face, catching a glimpse of that dimple you love so much before closing your eyes and sighing in happiness.

---

*Bzzzz*Bzzzz*

“Hey Frankie!” Already laying into bed, you answer your phone - giddy when you see the caller ID.

“Hey Shortcake.”  You can hear Frankie’s smile.

“I miss you already.”

“I miss you too, baby.”

“Did everything go okay with bedtime?”

“Uhhhhhhhh….”

“Same here.  Valentina fought sleep like it was her job.”

“Raynor tried to bribe me with a ‘it’s my birthday’.”

“Little devils,” Frankie chuckles good naturedly, unable to hide his affection for your children.

“Totally.  We can’t ever let them gang up on us!  It would be the end, I fear.”

“Can’t be the end, baby.  It’s only the beginning for us.”

“I’m so excited for our date, Frankie.”

“Me, too hermosa.  I’m going to wine and dine you like you deserve.”

“What about the other thing you said you wanted to do, Francisco?” You’re feeling cheeky.

“The other thing?”

“Something about making me scream your name?”

Immediately, he’s stuttering, “Oh… fuck, sorry.  I- that was out of line.  I promise, I don’t expect anything like that…”

“Frankie.”

“I would never put any pressure on you for sex or for anythin-“

“Frankie.”

“Yes?”

“Do you think you might like to make me scream your name right now?” Suddenly shy, you cover your face even though Frankie can’t see you.

His head spins, “Wh- oh, fuck.  Yes, baby.”

Your voice breathy and low, “You want to know what I’m wearing, Francisco?”

“More than anything.”

“I’m wearing that black lacy bra and panty set from the club,” you had put it on after getting ready for bed, inspired to set the mood for a solo session starring Frankie, but then he had called.

“The one from our last night together?”

“Mmmmhmmmm…. Do you remember, baby?”

Frankie groans, picturing you and the lace set so perfectly in his mind, “Remember? I can’t get the image out of my mind.  You know what it felt like to see you at school everyday in your pretty work clothes and know that underneath is the sexiest, hottest body I’ve ever seen?”

“Tell me what you liked about it, please.”

“So polite, baby.  Such a good girl.”

You actually whimper.  “Thank you, Frankie.”

“Love your pretty mouth, Shortcake.  And love how that pretty lace sits on those curves of yours.  Your ass bouncing just right, peeking out below the fabric.  Love how those gorgeous tits of yours look, ready to spill over the tops of your bra.”

“Ohhh… Frankie baby.  If we were back in that room and you could touch me, what would you do to me?”

“Holy shit, hermosa.  So many things…”

“Tell me, please.”

“First I’d ask you to dance and touch yourself like you did the last time, but over your bra.”

“Nghhh-huhhhh.”  You feel a warmth spread over your skin, remembering how sexy and desired Francisco always made you feel.

“Are you touching yourself right now, baby?”

Fingers tingling from just his voice, you run your hands over your breasts, softly rubbing and massaging, imagining your small hands are his. “Yes, Frankie.”

“Good girl, baby.  Feel those pretty tits for me, ‘kay?  I want you to grab them, be a little rough with them.”

“Oh god, yes…”

“How do they feel, hermosa?”

“The lace is smooth but the edges tickle my fingers.  My tits feel so soft and full, but Francisco, baby… they’re aching for you.”

“I’m right here, Shortcake. Hook those little fingers of yours in your bra and think about me pulling those lace cups down and playing with your pretty nipples when they pop out.”

“Please, yes… daddy.”  The honorific just falls from your mouth, wrapped around a soft moan that emanates from the very chest you’ve now uncovered.  Yes, he may be a dad, but right now, as you arch your tits up towards the ceiling towards his imagined touch, Frankie is also your daddy.

No one has ever called him that before, but fuck if Frankie’s dick didn’t just twitch.  “Oh fuck, baby… Daddy’s going to take real good care of you.”

“Feels so good… they’re so hard for you.”

“If I we were at the club, I’d roll them in between my fingers, pinching and pulling on them until you cried out, hermosa.”

You tug a little harder on your nipples at his words, before letting them drop, letting your breasts jiggle, “It hurts… but it hurts so good, daddy.”

“Let daddy kiss it better, Shortcake.  You’ll feel even better when I suck on your pretty tits, baby, don’t you think?”

“Ohhhh goddddd, yes please, daddy.  Want you sucking on my nipples and flicking them with your tongue.”

“Holy sh-.  Run your thumbs over them gently, ‘kay?  I wanna suck on those pretty peaks until you cry.  I still remember them from that night, so perky and pointy.  Prettiest tits I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you, Francisco.  I love being your pretty girl.”

“You are my pretty girl.  Tell me what my pretty girl wants now.”

“I wish you were here to touch me, baby.” Your voice comes out needy, bratty.

“Need your words, hermosa.  Where?  Tell me where you want my fingers and daddy will give you what you want.”

“My pussy, please.  I want you to touch my cunt, daddy.”

“Didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth on you, baby.”

“I’m going to keep my lips and tongue on those gorgeous tits of yours and start to drag my hands down your sexy body.  Think I’ll take my time tickling your stomach and hips.”

“Then when you’re squirming and begging for more, that’s when I’ll dip my hand down the front of those lacy black panties.”

You follow the guidance of his words and goosebumps rise on your skin in the wake of everywhere you drag your fingers.  “Ohhhhh... baby.  You’re making feel so good.  I’m so wet, Francisco.”

“Want you to tell me, baby - are you touching that pussy the way you want to be touched?”

“Yes, daddy.  I’m petting my pussy so slow and gentle and I love it, but I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“I know, Shortcake, and I’m not going be.  Waited too long for this to be gentle.  Tell daddy how wet you are.”

“I’m so wet, daddy – I’ve soaked through these panties and I’m dripping out of my needy hole.” 

“Can you hear how I’m spreading it everywhere, even all over my swollen clit?”

“Holy fucking shit, Shortcake, the mouth on you.”

“I’m your dirty girl, Francisco.  My dirty mouth is all yours.  Wish I could take your cock in this mouth.”

“Jesus.  Baby, I’m supposed to be making you scream, not the other way around.  Slip a finger into that slutty little cunt for me, hermosa.”

“Ohhhh god yes, baby, I’m tight.  My pussy is hugging my finger so close.  Wish it was yours.”

“Oh, Shortcake, if you wanted it to be me, you would need to add a finger or two.”

You hiss at the stretch, “Gahhhhhhh – oh fuck, Frankie! It’s too much.”

“How many, baby?  How many did you add while you were thinking of my thick fingers?”

“Two more, daddy.  It’s too much, please.”  Whining now, you feel stuffed and full, the slight sting turning you on even more and a fresh wave of arousal coats your hand.

“No, don’t take them out.  Need you to stretch out your pretty hole for me.”  Frankie’s tone is dark and stern, and it makes you clench down on your slippery fingers.

“Uhhhh... Fuckkk.  Francisco, I can take it.  Please.” 

“Baby, your fingers are no match for this dick.  This dick is going to ruin you.” 

“I can feel my pussy gushing and dripping down my wrist.”

“If we were back in the club, I’d take your hand and lick those fingers until you were clean.”

“Frankie.  Mhhmmmhhhhmhhh.”  You make sure Frankie can hear you stuff you glistening fingers in your mouth and every single slurping and smacking noise you make as you lick them clean of your own juices.

“So fucking dirty.  Fuck, I’m so hard for you baby.  Need to get you ready so I can feed you my cock.  You want that, Shortcake?”

“Yes, oh yes please daddy.  All I ever wanted back in the club was to sink down on your thick cock.  Wanted you to fuck me till I was cock drunk and dumb.”

“I’ll give you everything you want, baby but we have to prep that greedy cunt of yours, okay?  If you want my cock, put three fingers back in baby.”

“So big, daddy.”  Sighing, you ease your wet fingers back in; the squelching sound of your fingers sliding through your slick makes you quiver with anticipation.

“Do you know now much I wanted to taste you when we were in the club?”

“Oh god, Francisco.  Please.”

“Wanted to run my tongue over that pussy of yours.  I knew it would be the prettiest pussy I ever saw.”

“Your pussy, baby.  This pussy is only yours.”  You sigh at the simple truth of your words as you work your fingers in and out of your cunt, pretending they’re Frankie’s.

“You still have my pussy stuffed full of your fingers, Shortcake?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.  Now use your other hand to rub your little clit and pretend it’s me stroking it with my tongue.”

“Uhhhhhhh, nghhhh, fuckkkkkkk, Frankie… your tongue feels so good against my slippery clit.  Are you touching yourself, baby?”

“Got my cock out the minute you told me you were wearing that same slutty lingerie you wore at the club, hermosa.”

“Did you like what I wore at the club, Francisco?”

“Hell yes, sweetheart.  Everything you wore made me so hard.  You made me so fucking hard.  Made me want to rip those skimpy outfits off of you with my teeth.”

“I wish you did.  Wish you were here to do that right now.”  You look down and see your tits, having spilled over the band of your bra, bouncing while both of your hands are stuffed in your panties, and you visualize looking down past your feet and seeing Frankie’s gaze upon you with his big dick in his meaty hand, “Stroke yourself for me, daddy.”

“Stroking my cock right now, imagining what it would feel like in your tight little pussy, Shortcake.”  His hands glide over his length, throbbing just from thinking about the way you’re stretching out your cunt so that you can take him.

“Wanna feel your thick cock in my pussy, Francisco.  Can’t wait for you to ruin me.”

“Going to wreck that little hole of yours, hermosa.”

“Need you so bad, daddy.  Can you hear how wet you’re making me?  I’m going to come so soon.”  The wet sounds of your fingers pumping in and out of your pussy fill your bedroom - an obscene percussive beat to the song of your moans and cries; your arousal leaking down your ass and making a mess of your sheets underneath.  Frankie can hear it all and your whorish symphony urges him thrust into his fist faster to keep up.

“Keep rubbing that clit for me, Shortcake.”

“Wish I could see you, baby.  Wish I could see what your pretty face looks like right now, imagining my fingers curling deep inside that sweet pussy.” 

“Can’t wait until you give me that dripping wet cunt and I show you what I want do to you.”

“Please!! Francisco.  I’m close!  Tell me what you want to do to me.”

“I’m going to lick your clit until it’s swollen and puffy then I’m going to suck and nibble it with my teeth until you push my head away.”

“Gonna pound into that pretty pussy until your walls are stretched and bruised.”

“You won’t be able to breath.  I’ll punch every breath out of your lungs.”

“I’m going to fuck you until you scream that this is my pussy.”

“My pussy.”

“To fuck.”

“To ruin.”

“To wreck so no other man will ever be able to fill you the way I do.”

“Fuck you the way that I do.”

“Fuck you stupid like I do.”

“Fuck you until you don’t know your own name.”

“Fuck you until you’re just a cock drunk slut who isn’t good for anything other cock.”

“My cock.”

“Frankieeee! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…. Frankie I’m coming…. I’m coming, daddy, I’m coming!”  You seize and cry out to his name, chanting it over and over like a prayer as your orgasm overtakes all your limbs and you arch off your bed, practically pushing out your fingers from how hard you’re clenching down.

“Ohhhh fuck, hermosa.”  Frankie’s grunts are followed by heavy panting, his uneven breaths as he comes down from his high like music to your ears.

“Daddy, I came so hard.”  You giggle as you wipe your cum covered fingers on your stomach.

“Me too, Shortcake.” You can hear him grinning through the receiver.

“Really?  I made you feel good, Frankie?”  You wish so much that he was next to you right now.

“Always, baby.  You always make me feel good.  The best.”

“Good.  You made me ruin my sheets.”

“And I made you scream my name.”

“Just like you promised.”

“I always keep my promises, Shortcake.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  I promise I’m always going to take care of you, baby. Never letting you go again.”

“Oh, Frankie… how did I get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one, hermosa.  My perfect woman, screaming my name while she comes.  I’m living in a dream, I swear.”

“I always come so hard when it’s you, Frankie.  But it’s never been like this.”

“Yeah?  You touch yourself to the thought of me a lot?”

“Yes, daddy.  Always you.”

“I think of you all the time too, hermosa.  Always make such a mess, just like I did tonight.”

“If we were together right now, I would clean you up with my tongue.”

“Fuck… baby, you’re going to make me hard again.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Francisco.”

“That’s what I’m going to make sure of, Shortcake.  You’re always going to have a good time with me.  Going to make sure you come every time.”

“I believe you, daddy.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.  The moment I met you in that club, I knew you would make me feel so good with your hands.  And your tongue.  And your cock.”

“Jesus... Baby, what did I say?  Don’t start what you can’t stop, because if you keep talking like that I’m going to be hard again really soon.”

“Well, I’m still sloppy and wet, daddy.  Ready to scream your name again.”

“You’re a dream, Shortcake.  I’m going to make sure you come harder than you ever have.  Tonight, tomorrow, every day after.”

“Promise, Francisco?”

“Promise.  And I don’t break my promises.”

“Ok, daddy.  Show me what you got.  Just remember, tomorrow is a school day, so we can’t be up too late.”

“I also don’t make promises I know I can’t keep, Shortcake.  Now be a good girl and take off those messy panties.”

Epilogue

Tagging a few people who commented on Part 1 they were interested in Part 2 (thank you! 🥹): @aurorawritestoescape @magpiepills @pastelpinkflowerlife @southernbe @heareball

@mermaidxatxheart @nandan11 @mellymbee @jessthebaker @milla-frenchy

@littlemissoblivious @tuquoquebrute @inept-the-magnificent @posting-my-time