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padfootagain · 3 days ago

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Love in verses (XXVI)

Chapter 26: ‘Well, how else are you to live except by denial’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! This is one of my favourites, just… some adorable stuff!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

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Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 4227

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Earl

In Sitka, because they are fond of them, People have named the seals. Every seal is named Earl because they are killed one after another by the orca, the killer whale; seal bodies tossed left and right into the air. “At least he didn’t get Earl,” someone says. And sure enough, after a time, that same friendly, bewhiskered face bobs to the surface. It’s Earl again. Well, how else are you to live except by denial, by some palatable fiction, some little song to sing while the inevitable, the black and white blindsiding fact, comes hurtling toward you out of the deep?

Louis Jenkins

The pain in your abdomen was a sensation you were used to, sadly. You recognized the pattern in the intensity, you knew it perfectly after years of suffering once a month. This month seemed to be particularly nasty though, and there was little doubt on to why. Your stress was so high these days, between your new job, your research, your career, and Frank’s bloody wedding… You were drowning, to be fair. Drowning in an ocean of emotions. You bent in front of your sink, waiting for the wave of pain to fade again, closing tightly your eyes, while the microwave beeped with the heating pad now reaching a burning temperature. You placed it on your stomach, not caring about your skin, only about the pain under it.

Damn… that was a bad month…

You stood straighter again, letting out a long and careful exhale, relaxing once more. Your head was spinning a little, but you didn’t dare to eat too much for now, your nausea was too bad and you didn’t want to end up throwing up. You settled for a bit of rice and an apple for lunch.

You were supposed to see Andrew this afternoon, but there was no way you could plan on fucking up Frank’s appointment at the tailor when it was hard to stand… At least, it was the weekend, you didn’t have to deal with work, and could spend your day being a burrito on your couch while watching TV and eating junk food.

You were supposed to shop for groceries in the morning, but you didn’t have the strength for that either, so you decided that you would get some food delivered for the rest of the weekend and would tackle the issue of not dying of starvation on Monday.

You sat down on your couch, at long last, heaving a sigh of relief. You held the heating pad against your stomach, covered yourself with a blanket and grabbed your phone while you turned on the TV.

You pressed on Andrew’s name on whatsapp while the tu-dum noise of Netflix echoed in your living room.

You heaved a sigh…

… you had forgotten tea… never mind, you were too much in pain and too tired to be bothered making some tea now that you were seated.

Back to your phone, you typed your message quickly.

Hi Andy! Sorry, but I’m not feeling well today, gonna have to cancel for this afternoon. We’ll talk about our plans next week. Hope you have a nice weekend, see you on Monday! Xx

You pressed ‘send’ and started browsing in the list of movies available on your TV screen.

Your phone lit up with Andrew’s name.

Sorry to hear that! Are you alright? Do you want me to drop you something?

You were too tired not to acknowledge the warmth that spread in your chest as you read his text.

Nothing to worry about, don’t worry.

His answer was quick to arrive.

Are you sure? You want me to drive you to a doctor or something?

You chuckled at his obvious worry. He really was too sweet…

No, I’m okay. Period being bitches, that’s all. I can handle it.

He answered with a thumbs up right under your text, right when you found Pride and Prejudice was on Netflix…

Well, it looked like your afternoon was all set.

You cursed under your breath. You didn’t have any snacks. Not even chocolate… and your kitchen was so fucking far… a whole ten steps away…

Damn you and your stupid brain.

You were surprised when you received another text from Andy.

So, what’s planned for today? Did you get your groceries this morning?

You snorted at the mere thought.

Nah. Too much in pain. Too tired to go to the kitchen and make myself tea, so imagine going outside with people?! No, thanks.

I’m gonna spend my afternoon with Mr. Darcy instead.

You waited for his answer, ignoring your TV now.

The Keira Kinghtley movie?

You sent him a thumbs up.

Will you hate me if I admit that I’ve never watched that film?

You almost dropped your phone.

YOU’VE NEVER SEEN PRIDE AND PREJUDICE?!

OH THAT’S IT! DISHONOUR! DISHONOUR ON YOUR WHOLE FAMILY!

He sent a laughing emoji.

You’ve forgotten the dishonour on me and my cow too…

You couldn’t refrain a laugh, even though it hurt your stomach.

You don’t have a cow. But I’ll take it out on Elwood.

You could picture the grin on his face at the joke.

HOW DARE YOU! HE’S SUCH A GOOD BOY!

Elwood, my son, don’t listen to the nasty lady…

You laughed again, but quickly stopped this time, the pain getting too strong.

You didn’t think as you wrote your next text.

You could drop by and watch it with me.

You reread the text and realised your mistake; your eyes grew round. You were in your old pyjamas, you hadn’t showered and had no intention to do so, your hair was a mess, you hadn’t washed your dishes…

You wanted to delete the text, but the blue symbols under it let you know that he had already read it.

Damn it!

I mean… I’m in pain, grumpy and look like trash…

So… maybe not the most pleasant way to spend your afternoon.

Feel free to refuse.

You waited for his answer, watched the dancing dots, until a text was received.

I’d love to, actually.

Besides, I am not five, I know about menstrual cycles, thank you very much…

You bit on your lips as you hesitated.

You’ve never seen me like that.

A pause. You guessed that he had rephrased his text several times.

Would that make you feel uncomfortable?

You thought about it for a second. Frank didn’t really pay attention to that part of you. It was cliché, but you knew he was making a conscious effort to acknowledge your period and how much of a burden they were to you. You saw it as him making an effort at the time. Now, you were worried Andrew would be the same, with typical disappointing male behaviour…

And yet, you didn’t care. You couldn’t find a way to care. You couldn’t imagine Andrew, out of all people, disappointing you on that. Perhaps it was naïve, you weren’t sure. Your answer was earnest anyway.

His answer came in a matter of seconds.

Give me forty minutes to come over then.

You smiled.

An hour then.

You laughed again at his answer.

Gobshite…

You didn’t select the movie for now and merely watched some crappy TV instead, with whatever was on.

You tried not to pay too much thought on how excited you were at the idea of Andy coming soon…

Andrew ended up ringing at your door an hour and fifteen minutes later, proving you right about his time blindness, and the thought made you smile. You had washed your dishes waiting for him, using a fifteen-minutes break from the pain to stretch your legs and attempt to look like a human being. The pain was soon back with full strength though, and you gave up on the idea to change into a proper outfit. You remained in your comfortable pyjamas, tied your hair up to hide the mess it was, and went back to suffering on the couch, the heating pad growing colder and less effective, but you were too tired to get up again.

You groaned as Andrew rang at your door, forcing yourself to stand. You couldn’t hold yourself completely straight, not with the pain in your stomach being now combined with a sharp stinging sensation in your lower back. You opened the door still, and welcomed Andrew with a genuine smile.

He was wearing his hair in a bun today, his glasses perched on his nose, and a warm smile on his lips as his gaze rested upon you. He looked gorgeous in a simple brown jacket, dark jeans and a black turtleneck. You couldn’t refrain the way your heart fluttered at the sight, nor the butterflies that were added to your painful stomach.

“Hey! God, you do look like shite,” he exclaimed, but there was worry in his frown despite the obvious teasing in his voice.

“Thanks for the compliment,” you stuck your tongue out, and he couldn’t refrain a chuckle.

He walked inside, took off his shoes and jacket, and it’s only when he set the bags on the floor to do so that you noticed them.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“Groceries.”

You looked up at him with a puzzled look.

“Jeez… if you were busy this afternoon, you should have declined!”

He laughed, and you were more puzzled than ever.

“These are for you,” he clarified, picking up the bags again.

You blinked up at him.

“For… me?”

“Yeah… you said you didn’t get any groceries this morning. Can’t let you starve! Come on, get a move on, these need to go in the fridge.”

You let him pass, followed him in your kitchen. He started to empty the two paper bags on your kitchen counter.

“I didn��t get you much, just enough to last for a couple of days. Pass the weekend. Nothing that needs fancy cooking either, don’t worry. Mostly pasta, rice, and a few vegetables and fruits. I also got some take out for tonight, so you don’t have to bother with cooking today. Chinese, hope you’re in the mood for that. And then, the obvious ice cream, crisps and chocolate combo. Oh, and I bought you this tea! My mom recommended it once for menstrual cramps to one of my cousins, and it’s apparently pretty nice, so… thought you could use that too.”

He looked up at you then, after his little babbling. He frowned at your expression though, and you noticed the shift in his demeanour: the way he shrank, bending over himself instead of standing straight, with his full height. Trying to look smaller than he was, to occupy as little space as possible. He rubbed nervously at his collarbone.

“I… I thought it would make things easier for you. I… I’m sorry if I’m overstepping… if you… sorry. Sorry…”

But he was interrupted by your arms around him; you almost tackled him with the strength, and you heard the loud huff he let out at the impact. It took him a couple of seconds to close his arms around you too, but then it felt like he was unwilling to ever let go.

“Thank you so much,” you mumbled into his chest. “That’s… so fucking sweet, Andy.”

“That’s nothing,” he tried to brush your thankfulness away, but you could hear in his voice that he was smiling again, feel that his body was relaxing once more. “I didn’t mean to overstep… I just… I just thought it would make it easier for you.”

You spotted your favourite chocolate on the table, along with some ice-cream.

“These are my favourite,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“You didn’t have to do that…”

“It’s nothing.”

You didn’t say it. You didn’t say that Frank had never done that for you. And Andrew did? When he wasn’t your boyfriend? When he didn’t even have feelings for you?

“Do you need anything else?” he asked, rubbing your back, and the caress was so soothing you were ready to cry. “Painkillers or something? I can go to the pharmacy…”

“I’ve got that covered, don’t worry. Thank you.”

“Right…”

Another cramp came breaking your embrace, you let out a groan as you held your painful stomach. You tried not to think of how your heart stumbled and missed a few beats when Andrew brushed a messy strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You really don’t look well. You should sit down.”

“I need to reheat my heating pad…”

“I’ll do it. I’ll do that, love. Sit down, okay?”

‘Love’… he had called you ‘love’… You wanted to cry…

Why were you so affected by it? It was Andy. It was Andy, not Frank, and you wanted Frank, you wanted Frank, you wanted…

He walked into the living room about 10 minutes later, carrying your heating pad under his arm, ice cream and some chocolate. He had to go back to the kitchen to fetch your two cups of tea.

“Alright… need anything else?”

You shook your head, and he settled on the sofa next to you. Readjusted the blanket so it would cover your feet. You didn’t recognise the flavour of the tea, you reckoned he had made a cup of the one his mother had recommended.

You refused to name the feeling that was spreading across your entire body, the unbearable fondness aimed at Andrew that came with it.

I want Frank, I want Frank, I want Frank…

“Alright, let’s watch Mr. Darcy getting rejected…” he grinned at you, as if he was at his happiest, as if he couldn’t have thought of a better way to spend his afternoon than to watch Pride and Prejudice with you while nursing you back to health because you were on your period…

You scoffed, trying to hide the tears in your eyes by looking for the movie on Netflix again.

“He doesn’t just get rejected. They do get together at the end, you know?”

“Thanks for spoiling it all to me…”

“Wait… you told me you read the book…”

He laughed.

“I did! I was joking, like… It was a joke. I did read it. I simply haven’t watched any adaptation.”

“Wow… Oh… so you haven’t seen the one with Colin Firth either?! The BBC series?”

“Nope…” he answered, popping the ‘p’ before taking a sip of his tea.

Two teabags. As always. The detail made you smile.

“Okay, that is going to be our next activity together.”

He laughed, but didn’t contradict you, on the contrary.

“Well, I guess my next Sunday is all booked…”

“Indeed, it is!” you grinned, but your tone was too soft not to show how emotional the thought of spending another afternoon like this with Andrew made you feel.

He didn’t comment on that, though, and you were grateful for it.

He reached for your coffee table, where he had put the two sets of ice-cream and spoons, and handed you one.

Your heating pad was back on your stomach, warm and effectively soothing your cramps. You seized the opportunity to eat a large spoonful of chocolate ice cream.

You moaned at the taste.

“Andy… this is perfect, I hope you’re aware of how amazing you are.”

He chuckled, but there was something a little sad in his eyes when he looked down at his food, a tinge of melancholy. You didn’t know why.

“Bribing you with chocolate is the way to your heart, then,” he joked, clearly stirring the conversation away from himself, while pushing his glasses higher on his nose.

“Of course,” you rolled your eyes, starting the film.

You exchanged another smile, while the movie started. You didn’t realise your own movements as you scooted closer to him on the couch, and neither did he notice how he leaned towards you, until your arms were softly touching.

“You have bewitched me, body and soul. And I love… I love… I love you…”

You heaved a sigh after whispering the words in sync with Mr. Darcy, clutching at your heart, burying your face further in Andrew’s shoulder.

You weren’t sure when you had ended up in Andrew’s arms, but you were now. He had wrapped an arm around your shoulders at one point, noticing how livid you had become because of the pain, how you had tried to withhold your wince but failed. And it was meant as a temporary anchor, a soothing gesture that should have lasted just a few minutes, until the pain subsided again. But when you relaxed once more, he didn’t pull away, and instead of freeing yourself from his hold, you leaned closer, sank deeper into his embrace. And now, he was resting his long fingers on your waist, while you leaned into his chest.

Which was… better not think about boundaries and friendship and professional behaviour and all those limits you were breaking.

Meanwhile, Andrew was brushing a tear away, but you spotted it before he could pretend it hadn’t happened.

“I know… I know…” you patted his chest, trying not to notice that you were touching his chest. “I cry every time too.”

“For proof,” he chuckled, brushing your tear away with his thumb, making your heart stutter and expand to the point that you wondered how it hadn’t broken any of your ribs yet.

“It’s Jane Austen’s superpower, Andy… we can do nothing against it,” you concluded before nuzzling into his chest again.

“I’ll have to agree,” he nodded.

You noticed how his breathing was a little irregular for a moment, when you shifted to be a little more comfortable in his arms, but he didn’t push you away, didn’t move at all, in fact. Instead, he waited for you to settle again, readjusted the blanket on both of you, and stared at the end of the movie. His cheeks were turning a bright shade of red. You hated the thought that crossed your mind…

There were but a couple of minutes left, it was the end: Mr. Darcy had walked across the moor already, he had declared his love and Elizabeth had accepted his hand in marriage. They were waiting for Elizabeth’s father. You were staring at Andrew, the feeling of your gaze on him made him look down as well, catching your eyes with his. His hazel eyes, they looked so green now, in the rather bright light of the late afternoon, and the tears he had dried just before had enhanced that colour too. Green… like leaves bathed in sunlight during the summer… you loved that shade…

You didn’t even notice when the screen went dark, when the credits started rolling. You were thinking of Andrew, of how sweet he had been all afternoon, of how handsome he looked now, how much turtlenecks suited him, how cute he looked with his glasses…

He blinked a couple of times, as if he were coming back from a reverie, and looked at the TV again. You looked at his profile, found yourself longing to run your fingers through his short beard, noticed the red tainting the brown of his hair.

“Well, that was an amazing film,” he easily admitted, bringing you back to earth.

And indeed, the story was over. Mr. Bennett had accepted their union. Elizabeth would marry Mr. Darcy. All ended well. Black screen and a list of names, printed in white pixels…

You pushed yourself out of Andrew’s arms.

Back to reality now… and in the real world, you wanted Frank. You wanted Frank. You wanted Frank…

You looked away in a hurry, and trembled at the loss of contact, when Andrew finally moved his hand away from your waist.

You kept on talking about the film for a while, but eventually, Andrew checked the time.

“I should get going, let you get something to eat. And I mean… something proper. Not snacks,” he teased, standing up and taking the remnants of your various snacks with him to the kitchen.

And you had to tell yourself that mantra again. Because your heart was aching at the thought of Andrew leaving. Which was ridiculous because you would see him in two days. Which was ridiculous because he was only a friend. A colleague, even. And it was ridiculous because you didn’t want him, you wanted Frank. You loved Frank. You wanted the life you had with him back. You… you wanted Frank. You wanted Frank… You… You wanted…

“Andy?”

He reappeared, coming from the kitchen, and tilted his head a little as a silent invitation for you to speak again.

“Do… do you want to stay for dinner?”

He stared at you for a few seconds, long enough for you to start spiralling and babbling…

“Unless you need to take care of Elwood…”

“No, my parents took him to the seaside today, they’re keeping him for the night. He’s living his best life, trust me. I bet my dad is giving him all the treats he wants.”

“Or like… I mean… you’ve already spent your afternoon with me, even if I’m sick and not the best company today, and… yeah, I totally get it if you don’t want to stay, like… that’s…”

“Y/N.”

“Hmmm?”

“I’d love to stay.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

Because I’m too much to take care of…

You merely shrugged in response, making him chuckle, clearly unaware of your thoughts.

“Well, if you’re not bored of me yet, I’d love to stay for dinner.”

You grinned.

“Grand…” you nodded, and Andrew disappeared in the kitchen again to prepare dinner.

Still, you noticed how he was smiling when he turned around, how he was blushing, too…

You ended up watching tv again after dinner. The pain wasn’t as vivid as it had been during the rest of the day, and so you were more comfortable during that part of the evening. So much so that you started dozing off, as you were watching for the nth time how Luke and Han were trying to save Leia.

You had stumbled upon a rerun of the old Star Wars movies, and settled on the nostalgic feeling of these stories to end the day. Andrew was supposed to go home after the end of the movie, once the Death Star was gone and Leia was placing medals on the heroes’ chest.

Andrew had made you laugh with his best impression of Chewbacca, and you had made him choke on his glass of water with one of your jokes and snarky remarks. It was lovely, but you were so tired you neared exhaustion by now. So, it was quite logical that you started dozing off after a while, losing tracks of the story when Han and Luke were dressed as stormtroopers.

You hadn’t noticed that your head had fallen on Andrew’s shoulder as you were falling asleep. You didn’t notice how he stopped paying attention to the movie when you did. How his heart started pounding at how adorable you looked like this. He waited for a few minutes, to see if you would stir and wake up again, but you didn’t. He stared at you for a moment longer, but you weren’t aware of it. You weren’t aware either of the longing in his gaze, of the smile on his lips as he watched how peaceful you looked in your sleep.

You blinked your eyes open again only when you felt something slipping under your knees and behind your back, felt the warmth upon which your head rested move.

“Andy?” you called in your drowsy state, still unable to understand what was happening, where you were…

“I’m here, love.”

That pet name again… were you dreaming it?

You reached up, held onto a soft fabric, and somehow, despite the fact that you had closed your eyes once more, you knew it was Andrew’s turtleneck.

“You’re falling asleep, you need to go to bed,” he said softly, his voice unbearably low and deep, it made your heart skip a few beats and warmth spread across your entire frame.

And it sounded so reassuring… so safe… He was so reassuring…

You nuzzled into his shoulder, breathing in his scent. His cologne, his softener, him…

“Can I help you reach your bed? Can I do that? Is that okay?” he asked in the same caring voice, and you nodded. But then again, you would have accepted anything, for as long as you could remain in his warmth, as long as his voice came back…

You realised then that he was slipping his arms under you, it took a moment longer for your brain to register he meant to carry you.

“I can walk,” you whispered, opening your eyes again and forcing yourself to look at him.

You were too stunned when he bent down to kiss your hair to argue when he told you there was no need, that he got you, that you could close your eyes again. You obeyed, having no strength left to argue, and you wrapped your arms around his neck when he stood up and lifted you off the couch.

He readjusted your position, and then you were vaguely aware of moving, while he walked through your apartment. You nuzzled closer, your forehead brushing his jaw and your entire body trembled as you felt his beard against your skin.

Too soon, he was gently putting you down on your comfortable mattress, tucking you in, under your warm blanket.

You blinked your eyes open before he could leave, found his hazel eyes looking down at you. He seemed so tall like this, standing above your bed.

“Thank you, Andy. For everything.”

He smiled, gesture gentle and full of fondness.

“Sleep well, Y/N. Goodnight.”

He tucked a strand of your hair away from your face, and the brush of his fingers across your cheek made you close your eyes for good.

Your last thoughts were of him, while you heard him move away from the bed, recognized the creaking of the tiles by the door of your bedroom.

God, you wanted him so much…

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier x fem!reader #hozier fanfiction #hozier fic #hozier series #hozier au #hozier professor au #professor au #series #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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syoish-aot · 2 days ago

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"I Found You (too)" - EREN/READER - REINCARNATION AU (chapter 6)

eren/reader

Rating: M

2020s reincarnation of marleyan nurse reader & undercover eren

4k words

also on Ao3

<- chapter 5

*A Warm Living Room*

Jean resented the word “babysitting”.

Connie said: “I mean that’s basically what it is though, right?”

And Sasha- well… actually Sasha didn’t really say much of anything. Her face was too full of french fries when Eren asked them to do it.

Regardless of their feelings on the matter, after Eren called them to cash in a favor they all end up there:

Alone. In your apartment. With only you because Eren was running out of excuses to give his boss and he was going to get his ass fired if he called in sick one more time.

“Don’t stress too much about it,” Armin had told him on the phone the night before. “If anything, getting back into your old routine might help her remember things.”

“Yeah but… I still feel weird leaving her alone. What if something happens?”

There was a muffled sound from the other side of the phone before Armin was back: “Jean said he could come over and keep an eye on her.”

Eren could barely make out Jean’s defiant: “I DID NOT!” from the other end of the phone.

“Oh, and he just told me Connie and Sasha could help too!” Armin added.

Jean awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. “I feel like a phone call would have worked fine…” he mumbled. Jean knew you were his friend, a version of you anyway, but that version was tucked away in your subconscious with the current version leaving a lot to be desired.

Especially with how you were staring at him.

“What?” Jean’s glare caused you to jump before looking back to your lap.

‘Good riddance,’ he thought as a proud smirk spread across his face.

“Play nice,” Sasha ordered, slapping him on the back of the head as she crawled over the back of the couch to join the two of you in the living room. “Soooooo…” she started.“What do you like to do for fun?”

“I like to read,” you answered.

Connie snorted. “Fuckin’ nerd,” he mumbled.

Your head tilted curiously to the side as you looked at him. Obvious confusion was plastered across your face.

Connie was only half paying attention to what was going on, slumped in the loveseat and more absorbed in his phone game than anything. At least, until he realized what he had said and his eyebrows rose. He immediately sat up straight, his phone falling to his lap. “Sorry! Normally you’d- uh call me a dumbass back or- um-...”

Your eyebrows tightened together. “Mr. Kruger said we were friends.”

“We are friends.”

“But… I’m mean to you?”

“That’s-... oh boy…” Connie sighed. “You really are different.”

You scowled into your lap. “...everyone keeps saying that…”

“ ‘s not a bad thing that you’re normally different,” Jean mumbled. “The old you seems kinda...” he vaguely waved his hand as if you were supposed to know what he was saying.

And you supposed you did: “Marleyan?” you finished for him.

“Woah there!” Sasha quickly jumped in. “You being Marleyan doesn’t have anything to do with it! My fiancé is Marleyan and I’m Eldian or at least- we used to be. Technically Marley and Eldia don’t really exist here but-”

“You’re engaged to a Marleyan!?” you exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise.

“Uh-... yeah,” Sasha answered, “have been for a while. We’re doing that whole ‘long-term engagement’ thing.”

“And you tell people that?”

“I mean I do,” Sasha said. “Nico’s kinda embarrassed about the fact that the economy is in shambles and it’ll be a while before we can afford a wed-”

“No not about that!” you interrupted, “about… about you being in love!”

“Huh?” Sasha seemed confused. “Oh- yeah! Yeah, we tell everyone.”

“It’s kinda gross, actually,” Connie said.

“You’re just jealous,” Sasha stuck out her tongue.

“Ew gross! If anything I feel sorry for Niccolo having to kiss your burger breath all the time.”

“Hmm… bold of you to assume he doesn’t have a food kink.”

Connie threw his head back with a loud laugh. “Oh my god he totally has a food kink!” he clutched his stomach through his laughter, almost falling out of his chair as he did so. “Sash, you're nasty! Is he into that feeder thing too!?”

“Even if he was I-”

“Guys please shut up,” Jean cut them off. “You’re traumatizing her.”

Connie and Sasha looked over at you. You’d gotten quiet (which would have been weird under normal circumstances, but they were starting to realize that silence was pretty typical for your old self).

“No I-” you stuttered, “sorry. I was just… thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” Sasha asked.

“I-” your cheeks flushed pink. “Wh- Where I’m from an Eldian and Marlyan can’t-... a-and even if they did they would… well…”

“We know,” Jean told you. For the first time, there was an undertone of concern in his voice. Like a part of him cared about you. Or at least some version of you.

Of course, that concern was quickly washed away as your eyes met his and he went back to scowling.

You looked back at Sasha and Connie (they were a lot nicer). “Well if you know that then maybe you also know that I-... I um…” Your cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. “I’ve never said it out loud before but-...”

You squirmed against your seat, suddenly unsure if you should keep your hands in your lap. No, the armrests! No wait next to you! No, that looked awkward!!

“I think she’s gonna hurt herself,” Connie whispered to Sasha.

“Yeah, she looks like she’s about to have an aneurism,” Sasha mumbled back just in time for you to blurt it out:

“I-I’m in love with Mr. Kruger!!”

Your cheeks burned deep crimson as you clenched your hands in your lap, tightly gripping your skirt while your shoulders trembled.

You couldn’t believe you had just admitted it! You’d said it, out loud, to someone that wasn’t him!! This place was so amazing, if you were allowed to admit that then you really, truly never wanted to leave!

Jean sighed. “Yeah everyone fucking knows that.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. “E-Even Mr. Kruger!?”

“Oh my god...” Jean rubbed his hands over his face with a loud groan. “Yes. Mr. Kruger,” he said in a mocking tone, “is very very aware that you’re hot for him.”

“A-And… how does he um-... how does he feel about… me?”

Jean groaned again as he leaned back in his chair.

You turned your attention to Sasha and Connie instead, eyes begging them for reassurance.

Instead of offering you any, they both held back their laughter:

“...this is so fucking priceless...” Connie snickered.

“...wish I had this on camera…” Sasha agreed.

You scowled as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I don’t get what’s so funny about someone having feelings for another person! No one was laughing at you when you were talking about your- your- your feeder kink fiancé!!!”

Whatever that meant (and honestly you had no idea) it must have been pretty funny because Connie started laughing so hard that he fell out of his chair. Sasha clutched her stomach yelling “My abs! My abs stop! They hurt!!” Even Jean, who seemed to hate your guts, let out a loud bark of a laugh.

You still weren’t sure what you said, but you knew their reactions.

Part of you did, anyway.

And that same part encouraged you to join in on their, strangely familiar, laughter.

So you did.

You laughed with them. You laughed with your friends over a joke you didn’t really understand.

You’d never laughed like that before.

*An Office Downtown*

Eren was pulled from his computer screen daze as Armin placed a coffee on his desk.

“You’ve been glaring at your computer all day,” his best friend pointed out.

“Sorry,” Eren sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “Just catching up on emails. Buncha bullshit piled up.”

“Then how about you actually take your lunch today and give yourself a break?” Armin asked. Eren was notorious for getting sucked into something and forgetting to eat, which is why he’d spent the entire morning in complete silence glued to his computer. Thankfully, working at the same company as his best friend meant that he normally had someone looking out for him.

Eren glanced back at his monitor and a half-written email stared back at him. Then he looked down at the coffee Armin had brought over.

He reached for it. “A break sounds good.”

They ended up circling the small park next to their office building, enjoying the sunshine while it lasted before sitting down by the fountain in the middle of the park where they usually ate lunch together (on the days Eren remembered to do so, of course).

It didn’t take Armin long to get to the elephant in the room:

“Still no luck getting her to remember?” he asked.

Eren sighed, knowing that this question was coming. “Nothing,” he answered, immediately running his fingers through his hair. “It’s been a week and she hasn’t remembered a single thing. What if she never does? What do we do if she’s just stuck like this and-”

“Eren, don’t worry about it,” Armin cut him off, “sometimes it takes a little longer.”

“But a full week?”

“Yeah. That’s not unheard of,” Armin shrugged.

Eren let out a short sigh as he picked at the lid of his empty coffee cup. The past week had been… rough, to say the least.

He’d kept trying to maintain an air of normalcy, but that was growing increasingly more difficult every time you looked up at him in wide-eyed amazement over something in the modern world, or smiled at him like he’d hung the fucking moon, or every single time you called him Mr. Kruger.

It was never Eren.

Always Mr. Kruger.

And every time you said it, it felt like a punch in the gut.

“Eren?” Armin asked, sensing his best friend’s apprehension.

“I just-” Eren dropped his hands with a sign. “I just miss her so fucking much,” he said, “she’s right next to me but it’s not her and I-...” he drifted off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

“I know, Eren. We all get it. It’s hard waiting for things to go back to the way they were.”

Eren scoffed. “It’s not going to though.”

“Of course it will.”

Eren didn’t reply. Instead, he stared down at his coffee cup and ran his thumb against the light brown stain on the white lid.

“This is how it always happens,” Armin said. “Every time someone wakes up it’s hard for a few days, but once their minds catch up with them things have a way of working out.”

“‘Working out’ and going ‘back to the way it was’ are two different things,” Eren pointed out.

“I-- yeah,” Armin sighed, “you’re right, but sometimes ‘working out’ is better. Don’t you think?”

Eren’s hold on his cup tightened, causing the thin paper to crinkle as the lid almost popped off.

Armin continued: “Remembering everything that happened back then made all of us cherish this life so much more. All the bad stuff from the past doesn’t-”

“Don’t you dare tell me it doesn’t matter, Armin!” Eren exclaimed as the lid to his coffee popped off and fell to the pavement below them.

Armin remained silent at his friend’s outburst.

“I’m sorry but it just-- it can’t not matter,” Eren said. “Just because we’ve been given a chance to try again doesn’t mean that what we did before doesn’t count for anything!”

A silence hung over them again.

Eren stared down at his empty cup. He noted how light it felt, the way it crinkled against his hold. The way it felt to dig his nails into the white paper.

A paper cup with coffee stains.

A paper cup with three pills.The green one discreetly slipped into a pocket before anyone could notice.

Armin captured Eren’s attention with the soft calling of his name:

“Eren?”

Eren was scared to look up, so he didn't.

“Who was she?” Armin asked.

It was the question Eren had been avoiding. The same question he couldn’t answer. Not to the rest of his friends. Not to Armin.

Not to you.

“Whatever happened to the two of you in your first lives,” Armin told him, “no matter how- no matter how terrible it was, this is our chance to try again. Everyone who’s woken up understands that.” Armin reached out to place his hand on Eren’s, giving it a soft squeeze. “...and she will too.”

Eren pulled away. He tossed the coffee cup into the trash can and shoved his hands into his pockets.

He didn't want Armin to feel the way they trembled.

The way they shook.

The way his fingers twitched with nervous hesitation as Armin’s words repeated in his head.

But more importantly, he didn't want to look at them for himself.

At his hands.

Eren wanted to cut them clean off, even now that he couldn’t regenerate. Especially now that he couldn’t regenerate.

He wanted to cut them off and make them pay for their crimes.

*A Warm Living Room*

Pandemonium had broken out in the time Eren had been gone, and that fact became immediately obvious as he stepped back into his apartment.

“Connie if you don't fucking back me up here I'm going to chop your balls off in your sleep!!!”

“Fuck you, Jean! What do you want me to do!? It's completely chance!”

“It is not chance!! It depends on when you push the button!”

“NO IT DOES FUCKING NOT!!”

“Okay then push it now! Push it right fucking now I dare you! You won't do it because it's not completely cha-”

“Oh look I won!” The third voice wasn't Connie, Jean, or even Sasha.

The third voice was you.

Everyone burst out into excited screams:

“HOLY SHIT!!! HOW DID THAT JUST HAPPEN!!” Sasha exclaimed.

“IT'S NOT CHANCE I TOLD YOU IT'S NOT FUCKING CHANCE!!!” Jean shouted, immediately followed by Connie’s loud:

“FUCK MY ASS OFF DUDE HOW ARE YOU STILL THE MARIO PARTY CHAMPION!?!?”

Eren tucked his shoes into the closet and Bitcoin stumbled out of the living room. He hobbled over to his dad and rubbed against Eren's leg before he began loudly meowing for his dinner. Eren leaned down to pick him up and walked into the living room, towards the commotion.

“Guys we have neighbours you know,” he sighed, “can you please keep it down?”

Everyone looked over at him as he entered the room.

Jean and Sasha were on the couch as Connie took up the loveseat. Despite how there was more than enough room for you to sit on the couch too, you were in front of the coffee table, much too close to the TV for it to be doing anything good to your eyes.

You clutched your GameCube controller in one hand as you smiled at him. “Look Mr. Kruger, I won!” You told him, pointing at the TV where Princess Daisy stood in front of the flashing lights and banner that declared:

You are the DREAM STAR!!

Apparently god given Mario Party 5 skills trumped even reincarnation.

Who knew?

Eren chuckled with a smile. “Good job ba-” he stopped himself before the pet name came out. “Good uh-” he cleared his throat, “good job.”

You smiled.

His stomach flipped, just like it always did.

*A Cozy Bedroom*

“Connie and Sasha told me something,” you told Mr. Kruger that night as you crawled into bed.

Mr. Kruger always came to make sure you were all set before falling asleep. He’d turn the lights off for you, check that the cats were comfortable (although the old brown one was the only one that would actually stay in the bedroom overnight) and then he’d tell you goodnight before leaving.

It was the exact opposite of the real world, but given the way everything else in this somewhere nice was the opposite, you figured it made sense.

“What did they tell you?” Mr. Kruger asked, placing a glass of water on your bedside table, just like he did every night.

“They said um-...” You looked down at your hands, curling the blanket in your lap against your fingers. “They said that Eldians and Marleyans didn’t really exist here.”

“They don’t,” Mr. Kruger confirmed as he sat down on the end of the bed.

“Sasha also told me that she has a fiancé who’s Marleyan.”

“She does.”

Eren watched you stare down at your lap as you avoided his eyes. He noticed your cheeks turn pink in a way he’d never seen on this version of you.

The old you.

The old you had two modes, and he’d gotten familiar with them after the months he spent with you in Liberio. You were either spaced out, completely gone as your body moved in robot mode to complete whatever task needed to be done, or you were fake.

Smiling.

Cheery.

Putting up a performance that, in the past, made his blood boil to watch.

Right now though- with your slightly flushed cheeks, the subtle smile that slowly spread across your face, and the way you eventually looked up at him- right now you looked like the version he was used to.

The version he met here. The version he fell in love with without any memory of what had happened in the past.

Who he’d been in the past.

“Is that allowed here then?” you asked, making Eren’s heart feel like it might beat right out of his chest.

Eren cleared his throat. “I--Is what allowed here?”

Your reply came out after a moment of hesitation. Softly, as if you were nervous about how he would answer: “Are an Eldian and Marleyan allowed to be together…?”

Suddenly, the two of you were in dangerous territory.

Suddenly the same feeling of impending doom washed over Eren, just like it had when Armin asked: ‘who was she?’

It was all he could see. It was all he could feel-

The grinding of stone. Fire. Screaming. The roar of his titan. The zipping of lines. And a body lifeless against the battered streets.

At some point, he’d sat down on the bed.

At some point, you’d leaned closer.

At some point, you’d looked back down at your lap. Down at your hands before you took a short breath.

Before your hand slid across the covers and hesitated, just a fraction of a centimetre from his.

It was all so familiar but so different at the same time.

The way you paused. The way the bed dipped between the two of you. The way Eren could feel the warmth radiating from your fingers, even though they weren’t touching his.

But the sheets below you were dark green, not white, and the walls were covered in framed photos, not completely bare.

So it was different, and he tried so hard to focus on how it was different but---

But it all felt so familiar.

So familiar that he got lost in it for a moment. So familiar that when your hand finally moved closer to his, brushing so gently against his pinky finger- Eren jumped.

“Is…” you whispered, “...is this allowed?”

Your finger brushed against his, just your finger, so hesitantly that you could easily have pretended it hadn't happened if you wanted to.

But Eren didn’t want to pretend it hadn’t happened. The moment you touched him finally actually touched him, lit a fire in the pit of his stomach as his heart pounded.

“It’s-- It’s allowed…” he slowly answered, so softly that if there had been any other noise in the room at all you might have missed it.

His finger hooked against yours, body moving completely on its own as if it was instinct.

And it was.

At this point, it was instinct.

Eren could hear his heart beating in his ears at the simple sensation of your finger pressed against his. He’d touched you so many times (you’d been dating for six years, so obviously he had) but it had never felt like this.

It had never felt so intense…

He didn't know at what point your fingers had curled together.

He had no idea how long it took until he looked over at you.

And he surely couldn't recall when you'd looked back at him, but all of a sudden you had.

All of a sudden the two of you were sitting there in that bed with that wall and your hand in his.

And it was just like Liberio.

“Don't go tonight,” he'd said as his fingers curled, for the first time, around yours. You were touching him. Not to change a bandage, or give him his medicine, or check his heart rate. You were touching him all on your own for the first time.

“Why wouldn't I go to the festival?” You laughed with a smile. A smile so wide and genuine that Eren wanted to bottle it up and keep it forever. “It sounds fun.”

“Please,” Eren begged. Before he could stop himself, he'd lifted his hand to cup your cheek.

He was touching you. He was touching you and not because you were changing his shirt, or passing him a tart, or helping him hobble across his hospital room. He was touching you all on his own.

His thumb brushed against your cheek. Your warm cheek, as the image of your bloody body, discarded against the cobblestone, flashed through his mind.

No. No no no no no please no.

“Mr. Kruger I-”

You were just as close right now as you had been then. Looking up at him with the same eyes, the warmth of your palm against him in the same way.

Except it wasn't the same, right? It was different now.

He was different now. He was Eren, not Mr. Kruger.

In a different life under different circumstances with a different path in front of him.

You were safe here, finally, where there wasn’t fire or rubble or cobblestone. Here, where nothing bad could happen to you.

Eren's hand cupped your cheek and the two of you moved closer. It was warmer here. It was better.

He was better. He was Eren, not Mr. Kruger.

“Is… Is this allowed...” your breath ghosted across his lips as you asked it again.

Eren's eyes slid closed as he nodded. He leaned in, craving your kiss so badly that it almost hur-

“...Mr. Kruger?”

Until you finished your sentence and Eren’s world completely shattered.

Mr. Kruger.

Right.

That’s who he was to you right now. He wasn’t Eren, he was Mr. Kruger.

“She’ll do it.” “Oh good, your dog can do more than just fetch.”

“She's distracting you, Eren.” “No, she's not.”

“Then kill her.”

Eren’s palms grew damp with nervous sweat. His stomach turned. His heartbeat rang in his ears, this time for a different reason entirely.

Mr. Kruger Mr. Kruger Mr. Kruger

That’s who he was to you.

Mr. Kruger

Eren pulled away from you, trying not to watch your heartbroken expression as he pushed out of bed. “H-Have a good night,” he stuttered before he left the room.

He didn’t turn back to look at you. He couldn’t.

He was worried that if he did, all he’d see would be-

Fire and screaming. The roar of his titan. The zipping of lines. And a body- your body -lifeless against the battered streets.

Eren didn’t want to look back because if he did, he’d remember who he was to you.

Mr. Kruger

The man who had manipulated you into loving him.

*Libero* 854

“Good morning Mr. Kruger!” Three days into his undercover mission and it had quickly become one of his least favourite sounds.

Eren groaned as he sat up.

Headache. Pills. Wate-

“I snuck you an extra apple,” you told him with a wide smile, holding up the crisp red fruit just for him. He wanted to deny it and tell you he didn’t need your pity, but his rumbling stomach betrayed him and he reached for the apple anyway.

You laughed. “Don’t tell anyone or they’ll accuse me of picking favourites.”

Juice dribbled down his chin as he bit into the apple.

He looked over at you as he chewed.

It was a good apple.

Crisp. Fresh. Sweet.

It was a good apple.

And the way your eyes light up- with so much hope and joy, like a dog waiting to be praised- it was-

It was pathetic.

Pathetic how eager you were to please.

…he could use that…

TAG LIST: (like this post to be added or unlike it to be removed)

@xngelsau @f4irygard3n @vlsquuu @fvckingeetar @shmaptainbonky @maluvilela @gojojang @merrygo14 @ebubeu @janneeeexdxc @yn7877 @misshale21 @dracucil @venus1224idkpleaze @decadentprunepersonadragon @magictrump @kooromin @ilovemollyweasley @azulaenthusiast @dattebakay @suagxsugax @sky-full-of-magic @longestline @skoll1897 @hayleighloatx @datshittuebrat @br0ken-g1rl @tbzzluvr @jaeg3rb0mb @ratkidcalledallie @sieihebendh @lcve1yk3nz1e @marklover142717 @areenaa @luvs4kim @anything4yoongi @misavxz @dumdxm @pink-apples001

#eren x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren yaeger x reader #aot x reader #my post #my writing #i found you too

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fic-dumpster · 3 days ago

Text

The road so far

Summary: Have you ever wondered what goes through a writer’s mind while she’s trying to complete the stories you like so much? Well! Wonder no more! Here’s a first look into a writer’s unstable mind!

Characters: Bonten against Omi (no x because it’s war)

Word count: 1K

Content Warnings: fighting, slight breaking of the fourth wall, sitcoms, crackfic, it’s a joke. Yes, it can be read as x reader… just pretend. Hostility, a meme, DIH references, other fandoms mentioned.

A.N: TAKEOMI IS NOT OMI. I am Omi. I wrote this in 15 so it’s very rushed. idk… this is me trying to portray my internal struggles while I write. I just worked joke of 1000 words… and yes, characters never listen to what we want.

“If you think we’re gonna cooperate with you after leaving us for almost three years, you’re delusional,” Kokonoi crossed his legs once he sat down in front of Omi.

Omi had called a meeting with Bonten in hopes of coming to an agreement. She needed to work on her WIPs but her characters weren’t cooperating.

“As a matter of fact, I am delusional,” Omi answered, sipping from her water bottle, “anyway, I just need to finish the rest of the meetings and we’re done! Swear!”

Around her, the rest of Bonten sat with serious faces. Nobody was happy to be there. After her disappearance a few years ago, things weren’t quite as peaceful between them as they used to be.

“Yeah, yeah. I see how you are. Use us and drop us.” Sanzu sounded bitter and angry. He didn’t take the vanishing so well. He had bonded with her and she just left him. That wasn’t right in his book.

“Ugh, women…” With a sigh, Rindou stretched his long limbs, showing how tired and stressed he was.

“What do you mean ‘ugh? Women?’” Omi harshly questioned Rindou with a frown on her face.

“Nothing…” he replied nonchalantly, sitting up straight once again.

“Forget that! You clearly have preferences for certain members.” As she heard that voice her skin began to crawl. Hair standing on end, Omi slowly turned towards the source— once she saw his obnoxious face, only irritation was left behind.

“Oh, shut up, Ran! I wrote your story with your brother first! Why are you complaining?” She quickly replied, raising her hand in protest.

“Because he’s one of those,” added Mochi in a whisper.

So much of a whisper that was… half the men present burst out laughing which caused Ran to sigh in frustration. He was done. So many years and he still didn’t know what the hell that meant.

“We can't just hop back in,” Takeomi’s voice raised above the hysterical laughter of his peers.

Omi deflated at his words. She dreaded the worst… Was this how things were going to end?

“Please, I’ll do anything! I can’t leave the story like that!” Her eyes began to water as desperation crept in.

“Well, too bad! You left!” Sanzu’s bitterness didn’t falter, not even at the sight of unshed tears in her eyes.

“I said I was sorry! And I was busy with life, you know?”

“Yeah? Life? Then who are those guys? Rhysand? Sylus? Jinshi?” Sanzu spoke each name with disdain.

“Yeah! Who’s Umemiya? And some dude named Hoshina?” Rindou backed him up.

“More? I only heard about Sanji—” Kakucho suddenly intervened but was cut off by Omi.

“Okay! Stop! Oh my gosh!! Stoop!” Omi’s face had changed three different types of red in the last few seconds, “That… has nothing to—“

“Bullshit! I call bullshit! You created a different blog for the Stylus guy!” Sanzu was not dropping the subject.

“Oh my gosh! Let it go! And his name is Sylus!”

“AHAA!” Pink hairs wildly flew everywhere as Sanzu stood up and pointed an accusatory finger at Omi.

“Just… just help me write the few chapters I’m missing and the end. That’s all I’m asking… I lost the WIPs and I can’t by myself…” she pleaded. Internally praying they understood her dire situation.

“What do we get in return?” Mikey finally spoke after observing the back and forth between his men and Omi.

That sentence perked her up. A ray of hope finally came in between the stormy clouds.

“What-what would you want?” She asked with bright eyes and a new determination ignited.

“We can discuss that later,” Mikey waved his hand dismissively.

Omi nodded eagerly in return. Finally! Some progress. “Okay, fine… that’s good…”

After Mikey’s short exchange of words, they decided to end the meeting. It was time to move forward and begin working. Everyone stood up and began to leave the room.

They saw Omi move to the side with Takeomi and they started to talk amicably, with smiles and very friendly hand gestures. It was like time had never passed for them. She didn’t treat him differently and Takeomi seemed comfortable with her.

“Why does she like the old man…” Kakucho wondered out loud.

“It’s the daddy issues, I bet,” Sanzu was seething as he kept watching the scene play in front of him.

“What did you say?!” You turned your head like the exorcist once you heard those words leave Sanzu’s lips.

“Does she have superhuman hearing? How the hell did she hear you?” Ran said with a bit of panic in his voice.

And it began. Omi had been chasing the pink-haired man for a while now…

“I DON'T NEED YOU, SANZU! I CAN FINISH DIH WITHOUT YOU!” But before she could catch him, a pair of hands caught her first, “UGH! KAKUCHO LET ME GO! HE’S DEAD!”

Meanwhile a bit further away from the commotion.

“We have agreed to help her. Was it really necessary to do all the drama?” Questioned Takeomi to Mikey and Mochi. The three men watched the rest battling it out.

“We voted and the majority chose to make drama before agreeing,” Mikey said as his eyes followed Sanzu speeding away from Omi,

“Even Koko?” Mochi was surprised by that information.

“Even Koko.” Mumbled the short man.

“RAN, YOU TOO! BOTH YOU AND SANZU ARE DEAD!” Omi yelled, still being held by Kakucho who was trying to help diffuse the situation.

“What did I do?”

“YOU’RE ONE OF THOSE!” She kicked her feet in an attempt to be let loose, “I SHOULD HAVE KEPT WRITING FOR HAIKYUU! They wouldn’t treat me like this!”

“Yeah? Well, go and play ball with your sporty boys!” Ran screamed back.

“You’re insufferable!” Omi screamed as she tackled Ran to the ground.

“She became way more violent in the years we didn’t see her,” Mikey commented and the rest of his executive nodded in agreement. Everyone just watched Omi and Ran scuffling on the floor.

Bonus:

Omi: and then you do as it says here *points to the script*

Kakucho: that’s too mean. I don’t want to do that.

Omi: you’re a criminal! How is it mean to push her face down and—

Kakucho: shhh no please *blushing*

Omi: I’m working with amateurs… *throws her stack of paper into the trash*

#omificstags #Alexa play carry on my wayward son #Bonten x omi #HAHAHAHA #sanzu haruchiyo #kakucho hitto #ran haitani #bonten x reader #manjiro sano #mikey sano #kanji mochizuki #rindou haitani #kokonoi hajime #takeomi akashi #tokyo revengers #tokyorev #tokyo revengers x reader #tr memes #i like to think im funny

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 3 days ago

Text

last time i was here the street were all bare; did you plant these flowers? are you paying them to bloom?

make yourself at home; chapter two.

5.6k. no warnings! just frustration and introducing more characters and that kind of thing.

(a/n: back again, favorites. here's chapter two of my baby for you. some of the side characters day ones will recognize (aiden is just jack quinn, okay?), and some are new. i hope you enjoy very much. let me know what you think (pretty please?) and tell me what's going on in your life so i can cheer you on. let me know what you want to see next sunday. leaning towards mt19 bartender or maybe something ax72. and either chapter three of this one or more of jack and vic. i hope this week is easy on you. until next week, xx angel).

olive awoke the following morning to lazy sunlight flowing through her window like hot fudge, thick and decadent. she opened her eyes and blinked in unfamiliarity for a moment, took in her surroundings, her mind and body adjusting to the fact that she was not in california, that she was instead back home.

she instinctively reached for her phone, scrolled through her notifications enough to understand that nothing had happened overnight that required her immediate attention. her get unready with me video had been approved, so she quickly posted that, read over her to-do list from management for the day.

good morning, gorgeous, began celeste’s daily text, as it always did, followed by the things olive needed to accomplish that day. she had a couple of calls in the middle of the day, an advertisement for a rain-boot brand to shoot, but other than that, her day was mostly open. i want to hear all about home! came at the end of celeste’s message.

olive stretched her arms out above her head, scrunching her nose up to wake up her face. what was there to report back to her manager, even? that she had a lot more possessions here than she anticipated? that she was even worse at talking to her parents than she remembered? that she wasn’t even brave enough to text back the one person here that she wanted to see?

after letting celeste know that she’d call her later, olive timidly opened her conversation with russell, then closed it again with a sigh. she didn’t want to hurt him, and was afraid that anything she said, anything she disclosed would do just that.

deciding that a walk might clear her mind, olive changed into a workout set, got ready in the bathroom, taking a few pictures in the mirror after she did so. her steps felt heavy, disruptive on the staircase as she made to head out.

“going out?” olive recognized her mother’s voice from a room over.

“just for a walk!” she said. there was a pause, perhaps during which danica was waiting for an invitation. it didn’t come.

"take a hat,” was what she landed on in its absence, and olive wondered if she was imagining a sense of deflation in her mother’s voice. “the uv gets high early now.”

“thanks, mom,” olive replied, snagging a baseball cap from the stair banister before leaving through the front door with all of the gratefulness of a toddler.

it was the beginning of june in the northeast, and the time change meant that olive woke up later than she typically did, so it was already hot and humid enough to make her miss the dry heat of the west. regardless, she pulled her long hair up into a ponytail, fixed her hat on her head, and set out on her walk, feeling a bit lighter, her head less cloudy with each step.

the back of her neck was a bit sticky, but the regularity of her breathing, the lullaby-like nature of her footsteps, it was calming in a way she needed. olive didn’t like high-intensity kinds of exercise, found them pressurized and stressful, but she liked to move, especially in the morning, liked to feel her joints and muscles shed their drowsiness and lingering tension.

her parent’s house was about a mile from the downtown area, and before she knew it, olive’s feet had led her to a familiar stretch, which was mostly the same, but a careful, observant eye could spot a few differences.

the sidewalk had been recently repaved, for example, was much wider and smoother, no longer the crack-filled surface that olive used to frequent on elementary school half-day afternoons. the library appeared to have been renovated on the outside, or at least cleaned up, and the bar must be under new management - the name was different than what olive remembered, and the sign outside the door looked much more modern than the lived-in, almost rustic feel that she could recall.

she passed the town hall, stopping to look at the bulletin board that was a permanent fixture outside of it. olive had fond memories of town hall meetings, chances to see friends from school after hours, to goof off and make fun of adults taking themselves seriously in unserious environments.

the bulletin board looked a little lackluster currently, in olive’s opinion. a few flyers for local businesses, cleaning services, seamstresses, and the likes of that, business cards and event reminders, but otherwise pretty scarce.

the poster that stuck out was a reminder to buy season tickets for the granite falls geckos, the paper pulling away from the board with humidity and age, given that the season had started a bit ago.

say you saw them before they got big! the poster read in bold block letters above a graphic that featured the team’s young stars. of course, russell was front and center, some halfway serious shot from media day that made olive smile. they had probably told him to give them a game face, she mused, but she knew anytime you asked russell to be serious, you were probably asking in vain. as such, even in a pose that was supposed to be intimidating, the corner of his mouth ticked up in a trace of a smile, and his eyes sparkled even through worn-out paper.

i knew him before anyone else, olive thought, however selfishly, although she knew in her heart that she didn’t need to tell anyone else that, that he wasn’t a gold-foil-covered chocolate medal to be bragged about. russell was the kind of person that was destined to be known by many, and olive just felt lucky to be one of those people.

shaking herself from her thoughts, olive made her way a bit further up the sidewalk and entered cool beans, the coffee shop at the end of the block. she inhaled deeply once in the doorway, the scent of roasted beans and sugar comforting and rejuvenating.

“welcome in,” some voice from behind the counter called, probably a knee-jerk reaction to the bell ringing on the top of the door, one that made her happy nonetheless. it was a weekday, so the seating area wasn’t necessarily crowded, but populated enough to tell olive that the store was doing well.

olive got in line, behind the singular person who was ordering at the counter, and looked around. there were two baristas behind the counter, by the shiny red espresso machine, and then the short, round-faced girl taking orders at the register, who looked vaguely familiar. olive thought about what sort of coffee she felt like this morning. she didn’t typically have a regular order, often opting for whatever felt right, whatever she was craving. sometimes it was a light latte, milky and sweet, and other times it was something bitter, dark, raw, like an iced americano.

when olive stepped up to order, she was met with the warm smile of the girl on the other side of the counter, the kind of smile that makes you want to smile, too. her name tag read mia.

“welcome to cool beans,” mia said, brushing her dark bangs away from her face. “what can I get started for you?”

“thank you,” olive said, “this might be annoying, but do you think you could make me whatever you feel like making? i’m indecisive this morning.”

mia’s grin grew, wide enough now that olive could see how sharp her incisors were, an obvious contradiction to the rest of her appearance. “know how to make a barista’s day, do you?”

olive gave a laugh. “barely,” she said, leaning on the counter a bit, tucking a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, fingertips brushing her hat as she did so. “everything looks good and i’m overwhelmed.”

mia laughed, too, a high-pitched, but pleasant kind of noise, and it rang through the shop like church bells, making olive tilt her head. her laugh left olive a little starstruck. “you do need to help me out a bit, though,” mia continued, “just need a size, and if you’d like hot or cold.”

olive hummed, drummed her fingers on the counter in thought, her rings making a dull noise in contact. “let’s do cold, if you don’t mind,” she decided, “and medium, please and thank you.”

“good choice,” mia said, nodding to herself while writing something on a cup with a marker, then setting it on the counter to ring olive up. “gonna be six dollars today, love. name for the order?”

olive gave mia her name, paid, called out a thank you and left a generous tip, then turned to wait by the edge of the counter. she didn’t make it far, though, barely taking a step before she crashed into another person, sucking in a harsh breath as she felt hot liquid soak through her sports bra, the waistband of her leggings.

stuck for a second in something like shock, olive didn’t say anything for a moment, her gaze slow as it made its way to the culprit of the collision. olive looked up, met the guilty eyes of the person who had ordered ahead of her, now holding two near-empty cups. he appeared frozen, his face in a forever wince.

“now’s when you apologize, aidan,” mia said, and olive could hear a mixture of annoyance and amusement in her voice.

“i’m sorry,” aidan, olive presumed, mumbled. he looked sort of scared, his almost feminine features pained. “everyone’s been tellin’ me i have to watch where i’m going, and i'm trying, i swear, i just-”

“have no spacial or social awareness?” mia said, filling in the blank, tilting her head, teasing.

aidan sighed. he was still holding the empty paper cups like there was something valuable in them. he didn’t seem to mind that his own shirt was stained with coffee, nor did he seem especially cognizant of the temperature of it, as olive was. her face was flushed from the heat of the liquid, and while she didn’t think she had been burned, her clothes were now uncomfortable. “i really am sorry.”

olive mustered a slight smile, which wasn’t too difficult. aidan did seem apologetic, and if mia’s reaction was anything to go by, this was just the kind of person he was. olive had always been pretty quick to forgive, except in specific situations.

“don’t worry about it,” she said, wiping her wet hands on her thighs. “my fault, i'm sure. i can replace your coffees?”

mia was watching the interaction with something like keen interest as she shook up olive’s surprise concoction, poured it into a cup over ice. “olive, this is aidan. aidan, olive,” she said, slid the cup onto the counter. “and something sweet and honey-ish, for you.”

“thanks, mia,” olive said, picking up her cup and swirling it around, “and it’s nice to meet you, aidan, even under less than ideal circumstances."

“that’s generous of you,” mia said, before turning to her fellow baristas. “going on my fifteen, guys.” They gave vague affirmative noises.

mia came around the counter, forcing olive to appreciate just how short she was. olive wasn’t necessarily tall, but she had to have been a full half-foot taller than mia.

“aidan, baby, time to put the cups down,” mia said, not patronizing, just trying to encourage a sense of action and urgency from her friend. her words seemed to snap aidan out of his frigidity, as he walked over to the trash and threw his cups away, then wrung out his shirt over the bin until it was wrinkly and semi-dry where the stain had been. mia waved olive over to a door by the corner of the shop, a closet of some sort. “c’mon, you, i have a spare shirt you can borrow.”

“you’re a lifesaver,” olive breathed out, even though she didn’t need a shirt. she was only walking back to her house, and she didn’t really care if people on the way there saw her with a coffee stain on her clothes. however, she did not feel especially interested in turning down kindness, at this point in her trip home.

“you got a mop, mia?” aidan called from behind them.

“behind the counter, up against the wall,” she answered as she held the door open for olive, pushed up on her tiptoes to grab a shirt from the shelf on the side of the cramped room. “you won’t be the talk of the town in this, or anything, but it will do for now,” she said, handing the pale blue button down over. it was starchy in olive’s grip.

“i definitely don’t want to be the talk of the town,” olive responded, “so this is perfect. can’t thank you enough.”

mia waved her off, but her full cheeks were flushed a pleased pink. “anytime,” she said, following olive back out into the open air of the coffee shop, to where aidan was attempting to mop. he was, unfortunately, getting way too much water on the floor, arguably making more of a mess than there had been to begin with.

he looked up, blew out an exasperated breath, leaned his weight onto the mop. “i don’t know what i’m doing wrong,” he admitted.

“it’s fine,” mia said, holding her hand out, “just let me do it.” aidan shook his head. “just teach me, please. i need to do it.” mia nodded, like this was a common occurrence. maybe it was. as she showed aidan how to use the mop, olive approached the register once again.

“would you mind just doing two of whatever he ordered before?” olive asked the teenager behind the counter, pointing to where aidan stood. "thank you.”

after paying, olive looked at her phone and realized she actually needed to get back home to her computer. her first work call of the day was scheduled to start in less than an hour.

olive shouldered on her borrowed shirt, feeling a little spoiled, warm with content. as an only child, she didn’t know for sure, but she could imagine that this would be what hand-me-downs from an older sister might feel like. “i’ve got to head out,” she said to the mopping duo as she buttoned up her shirt, effectively concealing the coffee on her top. “but it was great to meet you guys. i hope i’ll see you around?” she adjusted her hat.

they both looked up to meet her gaze. “i’m always around,” mia said, “and you better find me.” to olive’s raised brow, mia laughed. “that shirt’s a loan, not a gift.”

olive smiled. “aidan, your drinks are on the counter, i think,” she clarified. the teenage barista had finished replacing them.

aidan looked a little taken aback by the gesture. “that’s really nice,” he observed. it was clear that he didn’t know what to do, what to say, which was endearing to olive. she knew what that felt like. “thank you.” his gaze flickered up for a moment. he nodded, tilting his chin up in gesture. “geckos fan?”

olive blinked, then realized her hat probably had some logo of the baseball team on it. she hadn’t noticed what hat she had grabbed on her way out the door this morning. her parents were fans, after all. maybe not directly of baseball, but absolutely of russell. she laughed, lightly, absentmindedly ran a hand along the brim. “something like that,” she said.

she waved a final goodbye and heard the joyful ring of the bell above her on the way out. the walk back home was swift, made even more pleasant by her drink. olive wasn’t usually a honey lover, but something about whatever mia had made her was exactly what she was looking for, just what she had been craving.

she found herself humming softly as she walked back, energized by her interaction with mia and mia’s odd friend. it had been a long time since she met someone new in this place. whenever she visited home during college, it was only for a few days at a time, so she felt obligated to stay home, or perhaps comfortable with doing so, seeing the same few people for the span during which she was there.

it was refreshing to understand that this town was a bit bigger than she remembered, that the faces of the town were not still confined to the features of her childhood bullies and disapproving family members.

there were no cars in the driveway when olive turned onto her street, which meant jerry was at work, danica was probably out running errands or at the daycare or something like that. olive was a little excited to have something genuine to ask her mom over dinner that night.

pressed for time, olive jogged up the stairs and grabbed her computer, brought it down to the dining room table to take her calls from there, where there was more natural light. her meetings were quick and routine, just check-ins and planning, one run by her manager, whose face was a comfort. as usual, she stayed on the video call when everyone but celeste had left the meeting.

“jesus, enough chatter from me, hm?” celeste said from her virtual box on olive’s screen, taking off her glasses and rubbing her eyes. “what’s new? how’s home?”

“you know i love your chatter,” olive assured her, because it was true. she didn’t know how she would make it through so many logistics meetings and networking events without her manager and friend.

“only because you don’t let me forget it,” celeste responded. “now, don’t try to evade my questions. i’m only asking ‘cause i miss you.”

olive sighed, smiled, crossed her arms in front of her on the wooden table. “i miss you, too,” she said, honestly, “not much new. home is home. the same.”

celeste hummed like she understood. “don’t sound too excited, gorgeous. i might get jealous.” olive laughed, but it was short. “it’s actually fine. i’m complaining, but it’s fine.”

“have you seen him yet?”

olive paused at this, her gaze dropping down to her hands. celeste knew about russell, about their history, the extent of their relationship, but all from the los angeles perspective. to celeste, russell was olive’s nameless high school sweetheart, her faceless small-town fling. to olive - well, she wasn’t really sure what russell was to her, but he seemed to be more monumental than just a bundle of trope-y labels. even apart, even when she hadn’t seen him yet, his presence was felt.

“no,” olive said, soft, “i haven’t seen him. just been-”

“busy?” celeste finished, an amused sort of smile sparkling even through a computer screen. “seems that way. way too busy to see him, even for a moment, i’m sure.”

olive shot her manager a look. “i’m not sure i love your tone.”

“i’m not sure i love yours, either.” olive rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. she sighed, thinking. “has he reached out at all?” to a nod in response, celeste hummed. “and you haven’t responded?”

“i mean, i responded to the first text,” olive explained, waving a manicured hand around in gesture, looking up from her computer and out her window. “but then he said something really,” she paused, exhaled, remembering, “just really sweet, and i felt bad, because no matter when i tell him i'm not coming back it’s gonna be bad, and i just feel like if i don’t see him it will be easier for both of us.”

celeste nodded, holding her sharp chin in her hand. “ah,” she said, “you’re avoiding him.”

Olive scoffed. “it’s only been a day,” she defended.

“sure, but you have no plans that involve not avoiding him.”

“i guess,” olive said, “but it’s not like i don’t want to see him. i just think the whole thing will be-”

“easier, yes, as you’ve said,” celeste finished, waving her off. “thank god. because we don’t have enough people in this world looking for the easy way out.”

“you’re such a help today, aren’t you?”

celeste raised her hands in surrender. “just because i’m suggesting doing something you don’t want to do doesn’t mean i’m not helping.”

olive scrunched up her nose. “i hate when you’re right.”

“really? it is one of my greatest sources of joy.” celeste was kidding, but there was a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. “i just know you, olive. and even if i don’t know him, i can tell that he’s important to you. maybe even more so than you let on.”

olive appreciated her friend, then. even if she didn’t necessarily agree, even if olive believed that sometimes easier was actually better, that it was a good thing to try to avoid hurting the people you care about, olive appreciated celeste, and felt lucky to have her, even through a screen, across the country.

“i really miss you,” she said.

“then finish packing and come home,” was celeste’s immediate response, like it was the easiest thing in the world. it could be easy, olive thought, so why did it feel so hard? why did home feel hard no matter which home she was referring to? “i’ll expect your rough cut for the boot ad in a few hours, and i’ll send your check-list tomorrow morning, okay?”

olive nodded. “i'm headed out to shoot now. it’s not raining, though.”

“you’ll figure something out,” celeste said, “anything you need from me?”

“all good for now. i'll text if anything comes up. love you.”

“love you, too. hang in there.” celeste’s image on her screen disappeared mid-wave goodbye. olive shut her computer with an exhale, headed upstairs to change and grab the boots she needed for her ad. they were a shiny red rainboot, a sleek design, the color selected specifically to fit seamlessly into her account’s feed. with her hands full of camera equipment, she made her way outside, the sun bright on her face.

“no rain rainboots, no rain rainboots,” she murmured to herself, thinking about how to make her photo realistic, engaging.

with so many things in her hands, olive stumbled over something at her feet, cursing under her breath at the sharp pain in her foot. looking down, she discovered that she had tripped over a lawn sprinkler connected to a hose. “that’ll do,” olive said, her mouth in an impressed sort of slant, setting down her things, creativity sparking like a rusty old lighter in her head. In her field, it was always a treat when she could showcase some imagination, something that went beyond surface level aesthetic appeal.

after a bit of maneuvering, olive had effectively set up a manmade sun-shower. she’d configured the settings so, if the sprinkler was out of frame, the water droplets just looked like a smattering of afternoon rain, cutting through the sticky humidity. all of the rainstorm practicality and realism, without the typical poor lighting that came along with it. perfect.

olive changed into the boots, then took a few different shots from a few different angles, some with the sprinkler on, some off. She was in a grove, capturing a wide array of the product’s attributes, and was in the middle of taking a short clip of her stamping the boot into a puddle when she heard the sound of an old engine sputtering off.

she didn’t have to look up to know whose truck was in her driveway. it was a sound she would know anywhere, one she’d heard a thousand times before, usually from the passenger seat perspective. olive didn’t have to look up to know that it was russell’s banged-up truck in the driveway of her parents’ house, but she did, anyway.

she did anyway, and was shocked to observe that russell had possibly become more beautiful since the last time she’d seen him. olive knew that he wasn’t the lanky kid she’d met all that time ago, but seeing him was a reminder that she was growing up too, into her body, into her face, into her mind and being.

russell hopped down from his truck easily, shutting the door carefully, then turned to face olive while fixing a cap down on his head. he moved like the athlete he was, but that ease came with a sense of comfort and confidence, too. his light hair still curled out from under the brim, the way it had since he was a kid. if he’d been beautiful last time she was home, russell was ruinous now, devastating, his features sharper, a slight stubble on his jaw, his high cheekbones illuminated by the late day sun. his immediate smile was what really undid her - made her stomach flutter like a moth's wings, made her fingers twitch like tiny fragments of lightning.

his smile followed her wherever she went, a constant phantom in her mind, so she guessed that it made sense that when it was here, now, up-close and personal, it was monumental, all perfect teeth and genuinity, naturally curving up higher on the left side than the right. focused on her, now, it froze her entirely, turned her legs gelatinous and her heart volcanic.

“i guessed you were busy, but not this busy, ol.”

olive’s breath suddenly felt strangled escaping her throat, as if her heart was fizzing in her chest like a just-opened can of soda. She suddenly felt a little stupid, or at least a little juvenile, standing in her front yard making fake rain, like she’d been caught in some embarrassing act. his voice rumbled through her like something seismic. she could hear the smile in it, the teasing, and no one called her that except for him.

she straightened, ran her palms along the tops of her thighs, trying to hasten the process of adjusting to his presence. “just shooting an ad,” olive responded, her feet keeping her still where she stood as russell walked over to her, leisurely, like he had all the time in the world. she waved her hand vaguely towards her boots. “had to get creative.”

he stopped a few steps from her, not insecure but cautious, maybe, as his gaze dripped lazily down her frame, drinking her in greedily. “i’ll buy whatever you’re selling.”

olive rolled her eyes, but could have sighed in content, too, at his unwavering support, at his seemingly blind belief that was anything but blind, in reality. her job had left her wary of others’ perceptions, but it had never felt like a chore to be perceived by him. more like a privilege. “what’re you doing here, rus?” her words came out sort of breathy.

russell squinted at olive for a moment, like he didn’t know what to say, like he was deciding where to go from here. he had shown up without invitation, after all, unexpectedly. olive had hoped that when she decided she was ready to see russell again, if she decided she was, she would be the one to plan the whole thing, so that she could control the whole situation. she didn’t like surprises. this was a surprise, and she felt unprepared, jittery with nerves.

“had to make sure my intel was correct,” he mused, “wanted to make sure you were actually home.” he rocked back and forth once on his heels, letting out a visible exhale. “hadn’t heard from you, ‘s all.”

olive swallowed, made some lazy gesture to herself. her red boots felt too big for her. “i’m home,” she said, a light laugh tinting the words with something she didn’t like. guilt, perhaps, at not answering his text. at throwing a wrench into the one thing that seemed to work, over and over again.

russell made some humming noise, his brow pinching for a moment, maybe confused at her lack of explanation, the fact that she hadn’t given some excuse for her delay in seeing him. olive was confused, too. coming back home had always been easy, when it came to him. there was practically a script to follow. this used to be simple. what could she do now that she had elected to light the script on fire?

being so close to him without touching him, especially after being apart for so long, it made each heartbeat feel slow like sludge, made her feel almost sick. she didn’t have to shut him out completely, she reasoned, as long as she didn’t let it get too far. olive could toe the line, she told herself, could carefully balance enough distance to be smart and enough closeness to remain sane.

olive cleared her throat, made space for words that didn’t come, willed her feet to take a step closer to him, timid, careful.

russel’s mouth ticked up at this, amused. he leaned back into his posture, adjusted his hat, crossed his arms across his broad chest, waiting. waiting for her to move, to break her silence. he’d been the one doing the waiting, up until now, so it was only fair.

a step apart, now, olive tilted her head back slightly to look russell in the face. his long lashes framed eyes that swam with a million conflicting things. the air sparked with a clash of sameness and difference.

olive’s arms hung limply, awkwardly at her sides. “it’s good to see you,” she said.

“yeah?” russell seemed to soften, at this, to hear something substantial in her styrofoam-stiff words. he uncrossed his arms, his hand drifting towards hers until their fingers touched, feather-light, almost undetectable. a touch that made her shiver, nonetheless, felt like being plunged underwater after a day in the shore-side sun.

olive nodded. “i missed you, rus.” it came out like a prayer, with all of the devotion and desperation to match.

russell gave a short laugh, like olive had made a joke, any hesitation evaporating as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, until her cheek was pressed up against the cotton of his shirt.

she swore the world melted away, for a minute. olive closed her eyes, swallowed roughly, felt her own arms slowly reach around russell until her palms rested on his shoulder blades. everything was simple, like this.

“i missed you, too,” he mumbled into her hair, squeezed her tighter. they existed like this, together, for several moments until olive regained some semblance of self-awareness and pulled back, however reluctantly.

she cleared her throat again, smiled up at him, easier than before. he smiled back at her, seemed unwilling to retreat too far from her, instead opting to reach his hand up, brush his fingers along her hairline.

“how long do i get you?” he asked.

olive might have winced. her gaze definitely sank down to her feet, unable to look him in the eye, tell him the complete truth. “i’m home for a bit,” she said, vaguely. russell’s eyes were full of contradiction, again, half-way drenched in excitement at seeing her for a while, halfway aware of the fact that she had clarified that she was home for some time, not that he’d get her for that time.

she tried not to think that she was a terrible person by hiding the truth from him. she tried to feel like she was doing the right thing.

“how’ve you been?” she asked, instead, wanting to change the subject, but also just wanting to know. “fresh off a national title, hm?”

russell laughed, walked over to the stairs of her front porch and lowered himself down onto them, resting his elbows on his knees. olive followed suit, mirrored his posture, just to his right. “already feels so long ago,” he admitted, “onto a new team, new league, new game, practically.”

olive nodded thoughtfully. it was crazy to think that he was a professional now, not surprising, but a reminder of the passage of time, of dreams, being realized. and she knew what it felt like, to feel thrust into something foreign, to have something you thought you understood suddenly come into question.

“what about you, then, kid?” he knocked his knee against hers playfully. “last time we spoke you were, what, goin’ on some podcast? how’d that go?”

olive furrowed her brow. “thought I sent that to you. you didn’t listen?” it was a weird feeling, the prospect that he didn’t dwell on their every interaction as she did.

but russell just gave a bashful kind of smile, tilting his head, scrunching up his nose. “i did,” he said, flushed, “just tryna’ play it cool, ‘s all.”

olive rolled her eyes, secretly pleased. “you’re so nonchalant, rus, it’s killin’ me.”

russell exhaled, a sound of bliss at this fragment of normalcy after bits and pieces of unfamiliarity. “you’re sweet, ol, thinkin’ i know what nonchalant means.”

olive just sighed, laid her head gently onto his shoulder, the both of them looking ahead, out at the well-kept lawn. he reached his arm around her shoulder, pulled her closer. it was easiest to pretend she wasn’t crossing a line, olive observed, when she wasn’t looking at him. “still got that piece of junk, do you?” she asked, nodding towards his truck.

she felt his laugh in her back. “don’t be mean,” he pressed, “she’s been with me through everything.”

he meant it lightly, but olive heard what went unsaid. that his truck had been with him through everything. that she had not.

russell seemed to sense her change in emotion, at any rate, his thumb tracing gentle circles in her upper arm. “so, what’d you do today? besides your shoot, which i interrupted.”

olive smiled, closed her eyes, thought back on her day. “not much,” she answered, “some calls, went for a walk, got a coffee spilled on me-”

“at cool beans?”

olive opened her eyes, tilted her head back so she could look up at russell from his shoulder. “how’d you know?”

he gave a sly smile, shook his head in a disbelieving laugh. “of course you’re who aidan was rambling about at practice.”

olive’s smile quirked at the mention of her new acquaintance. “you know aidan?”

russell scoffed without malice. “that’s my center fielder you’re talking about.” he shot her a look. “should have known, after he came in all flustered over the girl who bought his coffee.” he sucked on his teeth, made a tsk sound. “haven’t seen the affliction in action in a while, can’t believe i missed the symptoms.”

olive elbowed him in the gut, straightened until she was looking at him head on, halfway laughing. “good grief, not this again, rus.”

russell just raised both of his hands in surrender. “nothing against you, ol. i just feel bad, losing yet another comrade to the fleming flu, it’s terrible, really. please, leave me to grieve my friend in peace.”

It was sometime around sophomore year in high school that russell had come up with the concept of the fleming flu - in other words, the symptoms someone exhibited after meeting olive for the first time. nervous energy, prone to stuttering, a little daydreamy. even as a teenager, russell had loved to make fun of olive for the distinct effect she had on others, though always in good fun.

olive groaned, held her head in her hands. “you’re impossible.”

“hey, hey, now,” russell said, almost apologetic, wrapping her in his arms and holding her close again. “i can only say it ‘cause i’ve got the worst case, haven’t i?” he dipped his head down until she could feel his breath on her ear. “pretty sure it’s chronic, kid.”

“we need to get you help,” olive said, shaking her head.

“‘fraid there’s no cure,” russell said, “aid’ll be fine, though. guy forgets about things before they finish happening.”

olive laughed, trying to ignore the way her body basically sighed in relief at being held by him. if she didn’t acknowledge it, maybe she could believe she wasn’t doing anything wrong. “he seems sweet,” she said, recalling aidan’s demeanor. “a little clumsy, but sweet.”

olive could have fallen asleep like this, sinking into russell’s chest. there was a comfortable silence, a pause that could have been a few moments, could have been an hour. the sticky air now just felt pleasantly warm.

“got any plans for tonight?” russell asked, at some point, his voice textured with a slight rasp after however long a silence. “i have my own place now, if you want to see it.”

olive’s exhale felt weighted. she wanted to see his place, sure, wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, but she knew it wasn’t a good idea - that once they were alone at his place together it would be long before history repeated itself and someone ended up hurt.

“i just,” olive tried, voice stable despite feeling anything but, “i just don’t think it’s a good idea for me to come over tonight.”

russell was quiet, searching her eyes for something. the pause felt like a grand piano on her heart. olive could feel his probing gaze on her profile, looking for some signal, some sign. it tore her apart that she couldn’t give him one.

“okay, kid,” he said. “i’ll see you tomorrow? maybe we can do something?”

if there was one thing that olive knew about russell, it was that he would never push her further than she wanted to go. in that sense, as long as she laid the boundaries, he would follow. it appeared to be the laying of boundaries that posed a problem.

“yes, please.” olive nodded, wanting to see him but not wanting to be one-on-one, knowing she wouldn’t survive it, knowing being around other people was safer. “maybe we could meet at the bar downtown?”

russell’s eyes flashed, momentary, but olive caught it, a rocket-ship flare of disappointment. “yeah,” he said, still, “yeah, perfect. i’ll bring some of the guys.”

olive stood up and hugged russell goodbye, and she couldn’t ignore the way he held her, then - like her feet were buoyant in the air, like she was floating away, and he was the only thing keeping her on the ground.

as his truck roared to life, pulled out of her driveway, she gave a little wave, to which russell honked the old horn twice, like he used to do, every time he’d leave her house.

that night, olive slept in bouts of doubt, amidst tantrums of guilt. olive slept poorly.

fin. (until the next chapter).

#hockey #nhl #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey smut #oc #creative writing #tyson jost #nhl smut #jack hughes #trevor zegras #colorado avalanche #buffalo sabres #carolina hurricanes

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syndrossi · 4 months ago

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me when i'm stressing about the king's landing arc not being as tightly plotted as the vale arc: *barely able to scrape by with 1000 words a day*

me when i go fuck it we ball i write what i want: *suddenly doubling the day's word count*

#i gotta remember that the first 45K or so of the vale arc was basically jon+rhaegar bonding #and there are so many people to meet in kl while still bonding with daemon #there are many more moving pieces so fitting those with big emotional moments and even quiet cozy moments can be tough #and then i get stressed about the chapters getting long #and worry that people will find the pace excruciating #there's a weird thing that happens when you start posting fic you started writing for yourself #when it stops becoming for you #and that's when it's most dangerous / writer's block is most likely to strike #“what if people hate that i'm spending an entire chapter on feel-good moments?”#“what if people hate that i've spent 6-7 chapters covering 4 days?”#when the reality is that the pace slows when there's a lot happening (meeting people relationships setting up plotlines etc)#and it speeds up when things settle for a bit #at the end of the day i gotta write this for me #and just hope everyone enjoys the journey with me

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nekrosmos · 13 days ago

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NikPrice fic should be coming out later today <3

#I'm fighting for my life with AO3 #I never posted a fic with CHAPTERS before #also tags fuck I always spend way too long trying to come up with tags #I think I found a title #maybe #we'll see #anyway I'm excited #almost got my day ruined by getting a phonecall from my father but I'm not letting him win fuck this #It's halloween there's some booping happening and I'm posting my damn fic today #god I'm stressed out about posting the fic VISHVI0SJVI #<3 #yapping

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ssreeder · 5 months ago

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Sorry if you’ve answered this before but do you have any idea of how many chapters into the fire will end up being or how the ending will pan out? (Also I love you and the world you’ve created thanks for being awesome <333)

I have answered this before, but I feel it changes day to day lol… ITF is about ummm halfway? It will absolutely be the largest fic of the three, but it has to be in order to bring this thing to a proper close. I could realistically do a fourth book but fuck it I am sticking to the original plan of three. I have the ending completely planned and most of the epilogue figured out as well… I will admit the only thing I don’t have completely planned out is the nitty-gritty details that tend to unfold as the story happens? So as the battle begins who knows how characters will react or what emotions will come up so I like to keep things loose with that to give the characters room to breathe.

But yeah! I do have an ending and I have all the MAJOR events planned, so any twists & turns along the way are already set in motion :)

(I love you thank you for sending me this ask you’re amazing)

#I wasn’t planning on doing this long of a ‘healing arc’#but honestly we worked so damn hard to get here I am really enjoying the characters interacting #Sokka was also freaking the fuck out for a while and Zuko refused to speak so now that we’re moving a LITTLE past that…#its more fun!#Like this next chapter is like… oddly wholesome?#There is laughter #& people enjoying themselves #smiling! Sun is fucking SHINING!#IT IS A DAMN GOOD DAY TO VISIT THE FUCKING MARKET #sorry i got excited haha #but yeah I’m trying not to stress about word count or making it too long or whatever because well… fanfic #this is my fic and I can do whatever I want I decided lol #not that I couldn’t before but I am trying not to stress about it haha #OK SO YEAH I HOPE YOU ENJOY I AM EXCITED WE HAVE SOME BATTLE PREPERATIONS TO GO! AHHHH #thanks for the ask seriously you’re great #irisviews73 #leaving it all behind #LIAB #ITF #ask

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brittlebutch · 7 months ago

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finally found a place to read With the Light online and i'm thrilled; if you haven't read this manga i do Legitimately recommend it

#N posts stuff #like don't get it wrong it Is Not a series about being autistic it Is a series about raising an autistic kid #but also don't be put off by that because it's legitimately a series that I feel Loves autistic people with its whole being #it's kind of a teaching manga so it showcases a lot of different opinions/characters/conflicts/etc. but the Framing is very consistent #in that the manga is Extremely of the opinion that autistic people are People who deserve to be Valued and Accepted As They Are #the onus for change is never put on autistic individuals the framing is basically Universal in the 'the World needs to change #to be more accepting' -- it's a very Social Model depiction of autism that ALSO never veers too far into the #'autism isn't even Really a disability' fallacy; it's very much a 'A lot of autistic people will need constant support in a variety of ways #throughout their lives but that isn't the roadblock preventing them from having their own lives; ableism in society is the roadblock'#the first two chapters are the hardest to get through bc they take place before Sachiko has any real understanding of autism and #so she's isolated and stressed out and the ignorance makes it difficult for her to care for Hikaru properly (there's also a lot of #other characters Blaming her for what's going on which goes unchallenged at this point though that changes later); but after she #understands what autism is she's Firmly in Hikaru's corner for the rest of the series - you can skip right to ch 3 without a problem #if you're not interested in reading about that initial conflict #there's still a Lot of conflict ofc but by then the chapters have some of my favorite moments so i don't want to advocate skipping #them; like Hikaru's daycare teacher explaining how Hikaru's difficulty speaking is the same as other kids' troubles with #things like jump-roping/etc.; and then a mother who has An Issue with Hikaru's presence in her daughter's class realizing the #depth of the problematic opinion bc Her mother (who had a stroke) faces similar ableism from her peers #i'm cutting this post off b4 the tags get Too long but if you're curious but still hesitant man. send me an ask and i will Happily #write an insanely long essay about how much i love this series; i have all the books i'm not excited about the online availability #for Me i'm excited bc i've been wanting to rec this manga for like almost a full decade and i can finally give you a link instead of #saying 'well. you can find used copies sometimes' lol

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leyyvi · 2 months ago

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i miss pwasoi :C

yeah me too i should probably write it

#i was literally just thinking about trying to make at least a small chapter so i have SOMETHING to put out this year i #i actually hate myself for how long its taking to write or even feel like writing #like at this point i might as well do a speech to text kinda deal to at least get the damn words on the paper #everything is in my head!!!!! why cant my brain just write it!!!!!!! its genuinely so frustrating!!!!!!!#i miss having time to fuck around!!!!!!!! yall when i think about school for too long i get SO stressed out knowing how its sucking the lif #out of me #and then i smoke so i can stop feeling bad about school btu smoking ALWAYS makes me think of pwasoi

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beautifulmakkaris · 1 year ago

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if you’re waiting for chapter 5 of lucy takes the long way home… you won’t be waiting much longer

#Lockwood and co #locklyle #locklyle fanfic #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #no but fr the patience people have had for this fic #I can’t explain how much I appreciate it #I know the wait between chapters is long and sometimes I get so stressed about it but life does simply not allow me to get to it any quicke #So thank you thank you thank you #I hope you feel it’s worth the wait

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waywardstation · 1 year ago

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May I share a small idea?

You could use the poll as some sort of list for some future WIP Wednesdays. The most popular choice is first and then the next in line comes on the next Wednesday when you got the time and so on.

It could save you plenty of time to prepare something and may lessen the pressure a little!

Obviously it’s up to you but I’m leaving the suggestion here for you to think about.

Hope you’re having a good time and remember to stay hydrated and take care of yourself~!

Oh this is a fantastic idea!! I think I will do this!! (Though I am hoping at least three of the options on there will be going up within the next several weeks, all of them are so so close to completion!!)

I will do this though!! Thank you very much for the suggestion friend, it’s a great idea!!

#i think I realize now why it’s taking so long to get all my fics out and why WIPs keep getting backed up #I have been going back and rewriting the initial chapters of HFBE #my earlier work is not my current writing style #and I know that is obvious #but I will flat out say it’s different because my earlier work was lazier #I remember telling myself all the time not to stress about my writing so much because with Uni I did not have the time to do that #so I’d post work even if I wasn’t happy with how it was #otherwise I’d never get any work out #but now I look at my current writing #and I feel like at least it’s more coherent #and more thought and work is put into it #and I am more proud of my current writing than my earlier writing by a longshot #but that’s coming at the price of almost paralyzing scrutiny #as it’s holding me up from posting #I’ve leaned a little too far into it #and I’ve begun to find a balance where I can move on while still criticizing my own writing and adjusting it a little better #work has been moving more consistently again on them #so I’m expecting that when I do finish my WIPs for posting #it’s going to be a lot at once #(does not help that so many of these fics are all tied to each other and I want to post all the connecting fics in between larger chapters #of my multi-chapter fics #haha)

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sibillascribbles08 · 6 months ago

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Put the first few paragraphs of chapter seven in before calling it for the day. Got through a good chunk ! Tomorrow is prolly gonna be really busy so hmmm we'll see

current word count: 21,109

#scribs speaks #may writing challenge #I miss counted chapters there's guesstimated 14 #so when I get through chapter 7 we're halfway done???#I don't think so who knows how long these latter chapters will end up at but hey #still feeling so rocky about this asldkjf #I think part of it is me stressing I'm not hitting all the emotional things but also shit is moving SO fast these past couple of chapters #there hasn't exactly been time #and also I have to play "we're only focusing on the emotions of so many characters #the rest you're just gonna have to make assumptions about

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areweevercameraready · 2 years ago

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a little snippet...

A/N: so....i actually have...... maybe 100,000k words unpublished with the boys in human au.,.... and since the human au infodump, i've been wondering if i should post things from the spinoff au. i asked a friend and she suggested i post at least a bit since there Were Folks who enjoyed these characters. im hugging everyone who has been keeping up :') thank you and i love you and you don't know how much this means to me, that people like my work.

i do plan on updating more than beliefs, though as you can probably tell, updates are pretty slow. i've had big weird life changes over the past three or so years, which is kinda sad, since i used to be able to update chivalry literally once a week :'D but thank you all for sticking with me through it!! i'm hoping, once i'm done writing my thesis, i can get back to updating MTB more often. i've had the whole thing plotted in my head for a while and you all deserve to see more of macbeth, along with where he was during like. all of chivalry.

heads up that this is NOT going on AO3 — it's a bit far from the actual fandom space so I'm really hesitant to put it up there. it'll only be here! somewhat related, but i might spruce up this blog layout. the banner image is kind of old/i don't like the anatomy, and same with the icon. and i just took a look at the blog and went "wow the text is smaller than i remember it being..." so that's a sign that it's Too Small! time for a change probably.

Words: 7,615

WARNINGS: descriptions of anxiety disorder, descriptions of past child abuse, suicidal/depressive thoughts, someone's ankle breaks (don't run in heels, kids!), alcohol and drunkenness

if i forgot anything, please let me know! this is only one chapter of a longer thing (i'm still on the fence about posting all of it but frankly, if i do revamp this blog, i straight fuckin might. i don't plan on publishing these novels for market consumption, but i would be happy to know if folks out there enjoyed them :') )

enjoy the snippet! <3

Eric Yuan hadn't considered himself lovable in a long, long time.

The anxiety disorder was just scraping the surface. There was the legal battle he'd gone into against his parents for custody over Gavin. He was so responsible it was irresponsible, sleeping odd hours, sometimes none at all, and living off of the cheapest coffee he could find to keep himself awake. There was the lack of time, the long hours of work to pay for the apartment and his and Gavin's lives, between working at the bar and at the restaurant, trying to pull together something to keep them afloat. He survived off of lunch and, when tips were good, the occasional dinner.

Gavin had noticed, of course, but he was nice enough to not say anything. Eric tried to be as honest as he could about how sometimes they couldn't get new games or new things, how he would have to stay late at night at work. If Eric was thankful for anything, it was how understanding Gavin was. That kid rolled with as many punches as were thrown and while Eric knew he shouldn't have to, knew that his brother deserved a better upbringing than the shit that their parents and now the world were putting them through, he also recognized that this was the best he could do.

He tried to hide himself in work, two jobs that provided enough money to keep them going. Honestly, if he’d talked with his managers and budgeted hours differently, he could get by with just the bartending job. But the days without work were spent taking Gavin to school, watching Gavin at home, laying on the couch and staring at the ceiling. He had to have something to bury himself in so he wouldn’t be stuck with his thoughts, the ones that promised danger, contempt, building paranoia and anxiety until he choked on his own breath. Thoughts that promised a kinder world. On the other side.

If he killed himself, Gavin would go right back to their parents, and Eric had to stay alive if only to prevent that. That was….that was the only reason.

Sometimes, he wondered if Gavin knew, because on nights like that the kid always managed to find his way into Eric's bed. He'd crawl in and snuggle between Eric's arms and tell him he had a nightmare. Eric never knew how honest he was being, but he never turned the offer down.

He had to keep alive. So he did.

And like, man worked a lot. Often, too much. How the fuck was he supposed to keep up with the world around him if he barely used his social media, didn't watch any of the new content put out in recent years, didn't engage with new platforms. Well, he had a Twitter, but that was just to look at funny memes. Those were his favorite development in recent years. Twitter also helped keep up with the news somewhat, but he didn’t exactly pay attention to that. Also, cat videos, those were important to him.

Yeah, he was fairly disconnected, but what else was new and what could you do.

Eric Yuan's life flipped when he was opening the bar at 4 p.m. on a Wednesday. He wasn't an owner or manager, but he was a shift lead. The most dependable shift lead, if you asked his manager, and while he often told Eric that he was pretty reliable, it wasn’t as though Eric processed that kind of praise. He did know that he got the most done, and was the most efficient, because he could take that kind of metric comparison. But, like. Most reliable? He didn’t know how true that was. Eric liked to take the opening shifts, helped get home at a reasonable enough hour to see Gavin to sleep and for him to sleep enough to take the lunch shifts at his other job.

The opening shift consisted of a few things. Making sure dishes were racked for the night, that the trash was all arranged and the bins were out in the alley, that bottles that looked like they were going to go empty had restocks close by. It was slow and quiet, for shift leads, but it was perfect for Eric. He liked to turn on some music and walk around, working efficient and quick enough usually to have a few minutes of quiet before the bartenders started showing up.

The alley behind his bar was more like a driveway than anything, wide enough just for one car. Most of the time, the neighboring businesses would just put their bins back here during work hours.

While opening on this day, though, Eric noticed a man running. He'd turned the sharp corner near the bar and hurried partway down the block, panting as if he'd been running a while. Eric actually pulled his own bins back as the man passed him. Then promptly tripped. What idiot runs in heels, anyway?

The man tried to get back up, but a few steps proved his ankle injured enough for him to collapse again. And that's when he looked up, frantically looking around for help, and his eyes locked with Eric's.

Eric waved, ever so slightly. And, well. He's always been the type to help someone who needed it. He didn't know what the man was running from, but it seemed that time was of the essence. He jogged over and picked the man up easily, making sure he didn't grab the man's dreadlocks accidentally beneath his arm, and hurried him into the bar. At least the dude was pretty light, and he let Eric pick him up, wrapping his arms around Eric’s shoulders.

The first and only real thing Eric noticed was that he smelt a little floral. Must have been perfume or something. The man wasn’t wearing clothes that Eric would have called casual, especially with the heels. A fall like that must have hurt his ankle.

"Thank you," the man whispered, and Eric noticed how gentle his voice was, how lofty and warm. "Close the door, please, they can't see me."

Eric didn't know who the fuck "They" was, but Eric kicked the door closed on his way in. Just as he did, too, he heard the sound of footsteps at the end of the alley. Eric helped the man hide behind the bar, out of view of the door, and shushed him quietly as a knock sounded on the door.

He wiped his hands on his apron, stepping back towards the door. He paused before opening it only to prepare his face, so he could open it with the deadliest glare. And there were. People. There. Were many people. Many with cameras. All looking fairly out of breath.

How did that guy outrun a whole ass crowd?

The man who had knocked was haggard, taller than Eric but with an obviously lankier build, wheezing as he asked, “Have you seen anyone come up this road?”

He sounded kinda desperate. Eric shook his head slowly, cogs working in his head as he put together a cover story. “No, I’ve just been trying to open up shop. I took the bins out,” he gestured to the trash bins, set alongside the wall. “But I didn’t see anyone then. If someone was out there, they could have run past while I was stocking.”

The man nodded, either willing to accept that lie or too frantic to look too deep into it. Eric watched with sharp eyes as he and the group looked up and down the street. He didn’t think this concerned him, though, and he wanted to check back in on the absolute rando’ he’d just let into the bar. So he nudged the guy’s hand.

“I think the candy shop over there’s open, around that corner.” Eric pointed to the end of the alley. “If someone ran past, they could have seen them. Other than that though, I don’t have anything, and I’ve gotta get back to opening.”

Just a few well-placed white lies. The man at the door nodded and motioned the group to leave without another word. Eric let the door slam behind them.

Well. Then. He exhaled slow, a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, then turned to the bar counter.

The way the bar was arranged was such that there was a peninsula counter, sticking out of the wall with seats arranged on all sides. On one side, too, was a small stage. Often, they would just play music. Sometimes they had performers, live musicians, and every Thursday was comedy night for local comedians. In June, they have a small drag show every Friday, and in December, they have a run of charity shows. There are still fliers and decorations up from the last one; Eric should take them down while he’s opening.

The man who he’d snuck in slowly peeks his head around the counter. There was something awfully familiar about him, like Eric had definitely seen this dude before, but he isn’t attuned to the daily gossip. Maybe it was just because the man was pretty as could be, eyes a warm brown that lingered around Eric before darting back at the door. His brows were perfectly shaped. Eric could see a little heart on his cheek, too, and silver decorations in his dreadlocks. Very, very pretty.

The man scan the area, see Eric going around to take the chairs out from where they’ve been stacked in the corner. And he asks, in a voice almost more delicate than Eric could have imagined, “Are they gone?”

“Yeah,” Eric said, setting down the barstools as he went around the bar’s lounge area. “They stalkers or something?”

As soon as Eric said the people chasing him were gone, the man sighed, standing up all the way and cracking his neck. He scooted to the sink behind the counter to wash his hands, which was fair. It wasn’t like the bar ground was the cleanest, even just before opening.

Someone like this dude, this put together and manicured and astoundingly beautiful, shouldn’t have had to put his hands on the bar’s fuckin’ ground.

“Basically stalkers. Paparazzi,” the man sighed.

“Paparazzi?” Eric asked, looking back at the man.

Was this dude fucking famous? Eric couldn’t recognize him. Damn, he was that far removed from things, that he couldn’t recognize an entire celebrity.

The man must have realized now that Eric hadn’t known who he was, because his grin turned sheepish as he wiped his hands on a towel. “Yep! I’m, uh. Songbird? That’s my stage name. And my YouTube channel.”

That name rang, like, literally no bells in Eric’s head. Figures, though. He rarely watched Youtube.

They stood in relative silence for a few beats before the man tried again. “Cadence? Cadence Beaulieu?”

“Oh,” Eric said, and it must have been obvious how he didn’t know who the fuck this Cadence dude was, because Cadence laughed a little in his face.

“You’re cute,” Cadence said, limping out around the bar, holding onto the bar’s side. “I don’t get that much anymore.”

“Cool.” Eric instinctually hurried over, holding Cadence’s arm and waist as he helped him onto one of the bar’s seats, but his head was reeling from the idea of a famous celebrity calling him cute. Like? That didn’t just happen. Did it? This guy was fucking famous?

What the fuck was he supposed to say? How do you talk to famous people? Eric helped him settle into the seat before asking, “Do you want water or something?”

“No, I’m good,” Cadence smiled at him.

Eric was going to loose his mind, he got called cute by a famous dude and now he’s looking at the famous dude and realizing how cute the famous guy was. He hadn’t paid attention to that earlier, too preoccupied with getting the guys at the door to leave, but now that he was actually looking at this guy—his anxiety was about to start kicking in, hard, he could tell. What if he made an ass of himself in front of the famous dude? The incredibly pretty famous dude.

“Cool,” Eric looked down, at the bar, and whistled a little. “If you want, you can, uh, stay here for a bit, until your car comes?”

He figured the famous dude isn’t driving around himself.

Cadence nodded. “If that’s okay,” he murmured, taking out his phone. “I can stay outta your way, then.”

Slowly, Eric nodded, too. He had to get the extra drinks ready. Finish opening up. And. He couldn’t really. Process? What was happening. He just thought he was helping someone up off the street, having tripped, and….Wait.

“Wait, how’s your ankle?” he tried to swallow his anxiety, looking back at Cadence, who seemed to be idling on his phone.

Cadence looked back up at him, then at his ankle. He was wearing strappy heels, flowy pants, a tight shirt, and an old oversized jacket, and none of these looked like clothes that were good to be running around in. Especially those heels. Eric didn’t know much about heels but he figured they might be an inch? And that was probably enough to fucking break a leg. Rude to stare, though. So he just. Averted his eyes back to the glasses he was stacking for later.

This guy was so fucking pretty. Eric was holding him earlier. He’d carried him—Eric had deadlift carried a whole ass celebrity.

“Probably sprained,” Cadence said with a sigh. “When I get home, I can ice it. I don’t think it’s fully broken, though, I could put a little weight on it.”

Now, they had ice in the box. Eric grabbed one of the spare bags for their limes and filled one with ice, part of their protocol for when drunkards would hurt themselves. He wrapped it in one of the clean towels and, once the Grey Goose was restocked, brought it over to Cadence. Who took it. Gratefully. It seemed.

“Thanks,” Cadence gave him a smile, which like. Eric still didn’t really know how to feel about this.

“No problem,” he said. “Sorry, uh. For, uh, being quiet. And not knowing who you were.”

Because like, that felt like something he should apologize for, you know? If Cadence is used to people recognizing him on the streets and some level of respect because of it, then maybe Eric treating him like a regular person (maybe even ignoring him, since he’s just sitting in the corner) might be rude? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know the fucking etiquette for talking to famous people, this isn’t a problem he’s ever had!

“It’s okay, no, don’t even worry,” Cadence giggled—that sound, that fucking sound was so soft, what the hell?—and waved his hand dismissively.

“Okay,” Eric nodded. And he didn’t have much to. Like. Add?

So he turned around and went back to restocking the bar. And he didn’t say anything about how he could feel Cadence watching him. He didn’t say anything, but he could feel Cadence’s eyes on his back every so often, when he’d look up from his phone.

Maybe he was tweeting something about him. Eric didn’t know much about social media so if he did get tweeted about, he definitely wasn’t going to be able to find it. Or maybe he was texting his famous friends about the weirdo bartender who’s just ignoring him as he lifts the crates out of the storage room and cracks them open.

There’s no way this dude would be bullying him over shit like this for no reason, right?

Regardless, Eric wasn’t about to start a conversation and ask. He just knew that the guy was staring at him. For what felt like an hour. Realistically, only like, half an hour. But for fucking forever, man.

At some point, though, it had to end. After about twenty minutes, Cadence stood up, wobbling a little on his hurt ankle. Eric, who’d been restocking the limes, looked up, then stood up.

“Your car here?” he asked.

“Yep,” Cadence smiled a little at him. “When does this place open, anyway?”

“Uh,” Eric frowned, checking the clock on the wall. “In ten.”

Where the fuck are his bartenders, anyway? They’re supposed to get here at around now. Fuckers.

Cadence nodded, though, noting the time. “Glad this all happened before hours, then. Wouldn’t want it to get too crazy in here for you,” he looked at the clock on the wall, then back at Eric, with a small smile that made Eric’s already quick-beating heart skip a beat thinking of how his eyes creased with gentle happiness.

“Uh. Yeah,” Eric tried to smile, too, but something told him it looked a little more like a grimace.

Cadence waved, Eric waved. Then Cadence left. And the door closed behind him.

And that was the that. On that.

Eric was fairly zoned out for the whole shift. He was mixing drinks on autopilot, not so much as handling customers. Some drunkard got rowdy, Eric wasted no time to tell them to fuck off. His patience was zilch.

He got home and Gavin’s already put himself to bed, tucked in and in his PJ’s, though Eric heard him get up when he closed the front door. Eric picked him up, tucked him back in again, and kissed him on the head. Poor kid hated being alone late at night, especially when he had to put himself to bed. Eric laid on the bed with him, one foot off to hold himself steady, and made sure Gavin was all the way asleep before he stood up to change his own clothes.

Only once he was sure Gavin’s not getting out of bed again does he check his phone, too.

“Cadence Beaulieu” had over four million followers on Twitter, over fifteen million subscribers on Youtube, and an Instagram account that makes Eric blush almost inappropriately. And this is the guy who was. In his bar. Talking to him. Eric picked this man up earlier and didn’t even notice that the heart on his face was made up of three moles. It looked like a tattoo almost, but no, apparently.

He spent almost too much time binging Cadence’s content before he managed to pass out to the sound of one of his beauty tutorials. Interesting, that this is the guy he met. This is the guy who he picked up, carried into his bar, hid in the corner.

Interesting.

But not every day is so interesting. So Eric goes back to work and expects nothing to change. He tries to put this rare celebrity encounter behind him. Tries not to think of how much of an idiot he must have been, seeming to just fade into the background and ignore what could have been a real moment had he asked more questions, became something more memorable perhaps. He could have asked Cadence how he was doing, at least. How his day had been. Anything, really.

Instead, Eric just has the memory of the prettiest man on the planet sitting in the corner of the bar, of his bar. Alone together. A stranger, sure, and maybe Eric understood somewhere that that was part of why the anxiety was so strong? But c’mon. Man was pretty. Nice, too.

Damn. This is why he’s single, he joked bitterly to himself. Lonely, the joke in his head twisted. He didn’t have the gall to actually talk to anyone, what was he supposed to do.

He had been cleaning out glasses at the bar, late one night. He’d picked up a later shift, after Gavin had already gone to sleep. Usually, Eric liked to be home while the kid slept, but sometimes the scheduling didn’t work out like that and he’d need to pick up extra hours for other bartenders who had to tap out. He was a very strong cover, apparently. And on the spectrum of “thank god that lucky ass thing happened,” this was right below Cadence’s accident.

About two weeks after Eric meets a whole ass celebrity, two men sit down at the bar during one of the live musical performances. It was Eric’s time working behind the bar, and he saw the one with the eyepatch wave him over. Which, like. Okay, sure, he was getting there. But customer service and you never know how many drinks they’ve had before they walk in at one in the morning and you definitely don’t want to get mad at the dude giving you the tip and maybe this dude’s never been to a bar, who the fuck wears soft cashmere at a bar, and his buddy there was in a bowtie and suspenders like this was some kind of book club and not remarkably past midnight on a Thursday.

Like, okay, nerds, maybe they’ve just never been to this kinda bar. Sure. Fine.

“What can I get started for you boys,” Eric said, slinging his washcloth over his shoulder on his approach.

“Two cosmopolitans, please,” the one with the eyepatch said, giving Eric a smile that read polite.

Eric looked at the one with curly hair and glasses, who nodded in confirmation. “One shot in both? You got any vodka preferences?” he asked, taking out the house vodka and two tumblers.

Before the eyepatch’ed one could reply, the one with glasses butted in, saying, “One with one shot, a double in the other, please. And if you have Ketel One, that would be grand.”

“A double shot? Marlowe!”

“What, it’s been a good day! I think I deserve a double shot. And you know two shots isn’t enough to do much.” This Marlowe guy sounded pretty cocky, if you were to ask Eric, but no one ever asks the bartender. So he didn’t say anything about it.

He tuned out of the argument there, as soft as it turned. Much less of an argument, more aggressive flirting, and that was something that was easy for him to zone out of until he set the two cocktails down. “Double shot,” he said, setting the double in front of Marlowe. “And a single. If you boys need anything else, my name’s Eric and I’ll be at the bar all night.”

“Eric,” the one with the eyepatch smiled, and it was kind of pretty in that controlled, poised way that some models do. “Thank you. If we need anything, I’ll-I’ll call.”

“Thank you, Eric,” Marlowe said, raising his glass and taking a long sip.

Eric just nodded and went around, checking on others. Earlier, he’d seen some dude try to roofie a girl, and had taken the drink back. She had left with a friend she trusted, and he’d kicked the guy out pretty forcefully, but the moment still left quite the imprint. He was always on edge whenever that happened, hoping to prevent it from happening again.

He did a few rounds before he ended up in front of Marlowe and his friend again, maybe half an hour later. This friend was on his phone, typing something out, while Marlowe flagged Eric down, with an empty glass before him.

“Hello, Eric,” Marlowe raised the glass. “Would you be a dime and make me a Long Island Iced Tea?”

Okay. This dude had to be a heavier drinker, if he was going to be calling out drinks by name. And it wasn’t necessarily Eric’s job to know how much someone could drink, especially strangers. The guy didn’t, like….he didn’t look drunk just yet. You know? So Eric nodded.

“Sure thing. You got any preferences?” he asked, taking the cup back and pulling out a tall glass.

Now that seemed to be the right question, or at least one the man hadn’t thought of. Marlowe reached up, cupping his chin in thought, and spared a few glances at his friend still typing. Hopefully this wasn’t, like, for the friend. Eric would have to watch for that. But after a bit of time, Marlowe nods. “Yes. Ketel One again for the vodka.”

“Sure.” They had Ketel One under the vodka cabinet, but people rarely ordered it. It was one of their premium vodka’s and house vodka was Smirnoff.

“Do you have Patrón for tequila?”

“Yeah, I’m….pretty sure,” Eric, before he could be made to swallow his words, took a stride to the tequila cabinet and checked. “Yep, I’ve got Patrón for you.”

“Excellent. I don’t know enough about the other three alcohols to have preferences, but if you could tell me what you put in, I’d love to start learning.”

An….interesting request. But Eric knew the house drinks like the back of his hand (and he might not be able to hold his liquor like the best of them, but he’d still tried all of the standard drinks. For posterity.) so he pulled out the Bacardi first. “This’ the rum. In house, we use Bacardi. Pretty light for a rum, but it does have a better taste than Captain Morgan. A lot better to mix with,” he explained.

Marlowe had turned himself toward the counter, watching Eric pour in the Bacardi first, then the Ketel One, then the Patrón. Then, he put those three down. The triple sec was all out on the shelf, since they were common enough and the bar stocked a small enough range to have the whole selection out for viewing. Eric pulled down a bottle of Bols to add, then Henrick’s gin from the shelf below. They were running out behind the bar anyways. “Bols is the triple sec,” Eric said as he poured. “It’s really good for mixing with multiple alcohols. Sometimes a drink’ll play nice with other alcohols and sometimes it’ll only play nice with, like. Coke.”

“That makes sense. The consistencies are very different,” Marlowe hummed.

Sounded like this dude was the analytical type. Which might explain why he had some of his preferences on hand. If you don’t go to bars often, you’re going to be scared of the unknown. Eric was almost proud of the guy for that, if this was him trying new things.

He just hoped Marlowe wouldn’t throw up in the bathroom or something. That would fuckin’ suck. Always a situation when the patrons didn’t know their own limits.

“Henrick’s is the gin, and it’s just a easy gin to use,” he said with a shrug. “And then we just….”

He pulled out the cola spritzer, topped the glass off with cola, and put the slice of lemon in. And then he slid it over to Marlowe, who took the drink in one hand with a fascinated look. Dude even pushed his glasses up.

“Interesting. I’m excited to try it,” Marlowe said, glancing back up to Eric with a smile.

And before Eric could even warn him about how strong of a gut punch it was about to be, Marlowe picked up the glass and took a swig about a third of the cup. “Woah, buddy,” Eric couldn’t stop himself from jumping at that. “You alright?”

“Marlowe, what the fuck are you doing?” dude’s friend finally looked up from his phone to see Marlowe slam the glass down and cough into his arm.

“Holy shit,” Marlowe said, fixing his glasses with a smile that seemed a little too wide to be sober. “That’s quite strong, but very, very good. Thank you, Eric!”

His glasses were still crooked. Eric almost leaned forward to fix them, before the guy’s friend got to it first, and that was all for the better. It’s not like Eric knew these people, after all.

Marlowe took out his phone and Eric took the chance to lean towards his companion. “He asked for a pretty strong drink,” Eric warned. “If you need a hand taking care of him, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve held a dude’s hair back in the bathroom.”

His friend must have been surprised at the suggestion, but it can’t have been an uncommon thing considering how quickly he got over the possibility. “Thank you, that’s very k-very kind. He’s not usually one to drink a lot,” the friend sighed, then nodded to Eric. “Thank you for your service tonight, Eric. My name is Phillip.”

Phillip, alright. “Good to meet you, Phillip,” Eric said, and he went back around the bar to do rounds.

It was another hour and half before the bar closed, though. Eric wasn’t technically the shift lead for closing, but he was on the shift. When it got close enough to three, he turned on Semisonic’s song “Closing Time.” Most of the people had left by then, quick to leave on their rides or to new bars.

But still sitting at the bar were the two people Eric had pegged as nerds earlier, Marlowe and Phillip. After Marlowe finished the Long Island Iced Tea, Eric had poured a water, but the man still ordered a margarita on top of it. And now it looked like he was paying for it, given how he was literally leaning on Phillip’s shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist. Phillip didn’t look all too pleased, however.

“David is going to be worried si-worried si-sick when we get home.” Eric could hear Phillip chide Marlowe as he got close.

“It’s-It’s all dandy. I love David,” Marlowe hiccupped into Phillip’s shoulder, then leaned around and pressed his face into the base of his neck. “I love YOU, Prince.”

Phillip tutted, reaching back to run his hand through Marlowe’s curled hair. “I love you-love you too, you idiot.”

Cute. Really gay, and cute. Eric put away the cups he’d just washed and approached the pair, noting how they’d slowly but surely become the last people at the bar.

“Hey,” he said, waving slightly. “Phillip, right?”

“Mhm. Eric,” Phillip greeted. “Sorry to still be here. I can see you’re closing up.”

“Eh. Marlowe’s falling asleep on you, I get it. Do you two have a ride home?”

At that, Phillip winced. And Eric could have guessed the follow up, honestly. “Actually, Marlowe was supposed to be the driver,” Phillip confessed, patting Marlowe’s hand. “I think he overshot how much he could drink, though. As per usual.”

“I only had three drinks!” Marlowe interrupted, all too proud of himself for having three drinks that had the alcoholic consistency of a freight train.

Phillip and Eric both seemed to be on the same page, though, because neither acknowledged him. Save for a few gentle pats from Phillip as Marlowe buried himself more in Phillip’s back.

“Okay. Do you need to call someone?” Eric asked.

Phillip rubbed the back of his neck, thinking for a moment before nodding. “Yes. I know someone who’ll be awake who can come help, but….well. Marlowe’s car is still in the parking lot. It has a parking limit in the morning, which will quickly become an issue.”

Fuckin’ city parking. Eric had definitely gotten a ticket or two before, parking his motorcycle in the wrong place. He usually just walked to work, though, since he was two blocks away. So he didn’t have a vehicle to worry about….

A drunk man and a man with a cane could get picked up real easy this late at night by some unfavorable people. Maybe that worry was what made Eric offer. Maybe it was because Phillip and Marlowe had been fairly kind to him throughout the night. It could also have had something to do with how nice Phillip seemed to be taking it now, how calm he was handling the situation. And maybe, too, how Phillip himself didn’t ask.

There was something nice about being able to offer help, rather than having it asked of him always.

“If you want, I can drive you home,” Eric suggested. “I’ll catch an Uber back to my house from yours.”

Phillip blinked, and Marlowe giggled. Eric didn’t know what was so funny. He thought it was probably pretty shady to offer. He knew he wouldn’t let just any stranger drive his bike, after all. But he’d gotten to the point where he could do a solid vibe check just by looking and interacting with someone, and these two seemed nice. He could see himself accepting this kind offer, under similar circumstances, from either of them.

Still, kinda scary to think he’d be driving someone else’s car to their own house. He wouldn’t know where it was, Phillip would have to direct him. But Phillip legally couldn’t drive, not with the one eye gone, and Marlowe definitely couldn’t drive if he tried. Which he shouldn’t.

“That would be so-so lovely, thank you,” Phillip said.

Getting clearance to drive some drunk patrons home was a breeze, knowing it was Eric “workaholic glad you’re getting out early” Yuan. Soon enough, he had his arm looped around Marlowe’s waist, helping him up as Phillip led them to the car, which was parked about half a block away. Phillip also used a cane, which would have been a pretty difficult thing to work around if he needed to carry Marlowe himself. All the more reason Eric was glad to help them home.

They walked up to a nice sedan, likely a newer model judging by the built in navigation. Phillip helped Eric lay Marlowe in the back seat as he mumbled something about a pony, and Phillip himself climbed into the shotgun. The car wasn’t that hard to drive, now that Eric looked around at the controls. Same as any. The break was a little more tense than he was used to, but once he got it onto the road, he could manage.

Phillip, in shotgun, turned on a jazzy, late night radio station. And directed Eric gently towards their home, probably. Neither of them made conversation much but, to some extent, it didn’t seem like it was necessary. And that was kind of nice, to Eric. He didn’t always like conversing, especially with patrons and folks who didn’t know him. Which accounted for most people. But Phillip’s presence was nice, calming almost, which was rich for a guy who Eric had just met. He was tense, like he usually was, but for a stranger? In this kind of precarious circumstance?

It’s when the drive took them onto a small, two-lane road at the edges of the city and beginnings of the forest that Eric starts to worry. Was Marlowe actually a heavy-weight? Maybe he was pretending to be drunk back there so they could mug him? Take his kindness for granted and leave him in a ditch? He didn’t think he looked like he was worth mugging, but like….maybe. Was that a necessary cane or was it a weapon?

“It’s this-this house here,” Phillip said, pointing to a gravel driveway, and Eric swallowed despite the dryness of his mouth.

“Sure,” he murmured, pulling onto the gravel.

As he did, the house’s porch light turned on, front door thrown open as someone else jogged out. Eric stopped, threw the car into park immediately, but Phillip didn’t seem too phased by the newcomer. Instead, he turned to Eric and held out a one hundred dollar bill. “Thank you so much for all your help this evening,” he said with a smile.

Eric looked at the bill, then up at Phillip. He hadn’t really expected to be tipped for this, in all honesty. But it made sense. You know, if he’s going to drive you home, tip him. He’s done over the top enough. But a hundred fucking dollars? This dude just whipped a hundred dollars out on a tip? How loaded were these gay dudes, and then they didn’t have someone to drive them home?

“That’s a hundred dollars,” he said, unthinking.

He blushed a little, stuttering on words to add on and say he didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, but Phillip just laughed. His laugh was breezy, like leaves in the wind. “Yes, it’s a hundred dollars. I think it’s-it’s warranted, considering you drove me and my idiot home,” Phillip put the bill on Eric’s lap and undid his seatbelt. “It’s a hundred dollars plus something-something extra.”

Eric looked down at the bill, picked it up, and there was. A whole ass phone number written on the side. With the “Phillip & Marlowe” written on the side.

Before he can ask what the fuck is happening and if he’s been dreaming this whole time, the backseat door opens. “Davy,” Marlowe’s voice is so slurred it’s almost incomprehensible, but the person who’d come out of the house, this “Davy,” unbuckles Marlowe swiftly.

“Jesus, Marl’, how much did you drink?” Davy grumbles, pulling Marlowe out by his arms.

Instead of setting him on the ground, though, Davy just wrapped them around his shoulders and then slowly, steadily, lifted Marlowe into his arms. Marlowe let him, swinging his own legs up to make it easier for Davy to catch them. Once he had some semblance of a grip, Marlowe leaned forward and pressed his face against Davy’s, kissing him rough enough for Phillip to laugh at, Eric to stare confusedly at.

“He gets like this, when he’s-when he’s drunk,” Phillip leaned over to explain, though it does nothing to clear up Eric’s questions.

At this point? He’s a lot more willing to walk home. Just get out of the car and walk.

“Alright, y’ sap,” Davy grumbles, pulling Marlowe off of himself and nestling him into more of a hold.

Eric was still sitting in the driver seat, just watching through the passenger window as Phillip opens his own door and climbs out. Davy leans his head towards Phillip, who pats his shoulder warmly and looks down at Eric.

All three of them are looking at him now.

The odd one out.

And, like, fair. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing here, either.

“Uh,” he said. “I can just, uh. I can call myself an Uber now.”

“Who the fuck’re you?” Davy asked, almost at exactly the same time.

Eric put his hands up and slowly climbed out of the car. This Davy person didn’t really look mad—Phillip leaned over, whispering something to him, and Davy nodded along. And Eric didn’t know what the fuck that was about really, but he didn’t feel in the mood to test anything. Not at three in the morning, in someone else’s driveway. He had to get back home.

“I can just….” Eric gestured to the road again, taking a few steps back.

Davy shook his head. “No fuckin’ way, dude,” he was much more abrasive than the other two, and something in the sturdiness of his tone got Eric to shut up. “I’ll drive you.”

On literally any other day, Eric would probably have started running right then and there. His palms were sweaty still, from gripping the steering wheel tighter than ever and from the mounting panic of driving someone else’s car to a house he didn’t know. In a car with a bunch of strangers.

But, to be frank, Eric was just starting to believe this wasn’t real.

He was probably just tired. He didn’t usually work shifts this late, and this was a whirlwind of a night already, and he’d already swallowed whatever panic arose earlier, which usually left him without the energy to worry about semi-tense situations. It was a kinda numb feeling. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? He dies and Gavin goes back with their parents? Bit too late in the night for Eric to care about something as trivial as dying.

So he nodded slowly to Davy’s suggestion. “That would be nice,” he said.

Davy grinned. He lifted Marlowe a little and said, “I’ll put this one to bed and come back out, ‘ight?”

Eric just nodded again, which must have been good enough for Davy, because he just turned around and marched himself back into the house. Phillip stayed outside, though, leaning on his cane with both of his hands. Eric shuffled around the car, now feeling a little more awkward, and Phillip gave him a small shrug as if to say he sympathized.

“I’m sure this is-this is strange,” Phillip added on.

It sure as fuck was. But Eric was like, almost too out of it to properly acknowledge that. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “This’ gonna be one hell of a dream to wake up from.”

Phillip chuckled at that one, laugh light like air. He leaned over and rested a hand on Eric’s shoulder—Eric flinched, hands reaching up into a defensive stance, and Phillip pulled back quick.

It was. A little out of his comfort zone.

Just a little. He didn’t like people touching him, especially people he didn’t know, because for the longest time he’d been used to sudden motions as a threat. And while he used to take it, Eric had long since trained himself to fight over flight. So it did take self-control to not just deck this dude.

He turned back around to Phillip, shoulders hiked enough for his neck to stiffen just a bit, and he tried to lower his own hands. They were shaking, much to his chagrin, so he stuffed them into the pockets of his jeans.

“Sorry,” he fumbled over his words. “Sorry, I, uh. I’m kinda...it’s late, and I don’t really like, uh. People touching me.”

“No need to apologize, that-that was on me,” Phillip responded. “No need at all. I should-I should have known better, but I’m ti-I guess I’m tired my-myself. I’m very sorry for touching.”

Eric smoothed himself out slowly, as best he could, and Phillip rested himself against the side of the car. He glanced over, watching Phillip as the man looked up at the tree line. In the moonlight, Eric could see him smile, ever so slightly. He looked weirdly regal, with how prim he was, even after being at a dive bar for three hours. His hair was still brushed to the side like it’d been gelled, though Eric had seen him run his hand through it a few times. And although it was dark, he could still make out the freckles that dotted Phillip’s face, like stars in their own right.

He turned away, looking at his feet, and hoped Phillip didn’t feel too badly. It wasn’t his fault Eric was a nervous fuckin’ wreck. But he didn’t say anything. Getting a little too tired to hold proper conversation.

They both look up as the front door opens and closes again, as that Davy guy jogs out. He’d changed out of his clothes into other pajama looking clothes, or maybe he’d just thrown on a jacket.

“Alright, nerd’s been sung a lullaby and is all tucked into bed.” He clapped his hands, rubbing them together slowly. “You gonna be able to get yourself in bed okay, Princey?”

“Oh, I’ll be okay. Just-Just sad my favorite artist won’t be there to kiss me goodnight,” Phillip said, and Eric did a double take at how flippantly the flirt was doled out.

Wasn’t Phillip dating that Marlowe guy? Eric glanced between Davy and Phillip as Davy scoffed and grabbed Phillip by the shoulder of his sweater, yanking him close and kissing him for a second. Were they like, all dating? Was that what was happening here?

Eric was more confused than anything else. He knew of polyamory. He’d just never seen it. Then again, he didn’t know about a lot in the queer community. Once, one of the queens who came in for drag night called him “gnc as hell” and he had to get an explanation from one of the girls sitting at the bar. Polyamory, though, was a new kind of fear for him. That was just more people to disappoint.

He looked back at the car and climbed into the passenger seat while Davy pulled back from Phillip and mussed up his hair. Eric very intentionally ignored eye contact while Davy climbed into the driver’s seat and rolled down Eric’s window, though he did wave at Phillip while Davy pulled away.

“Drive safely, David!” Phillip called out, waving a hand.

“Be back in a sec, baby!” David must have been his name proper, because he blew Phillip a kiss through the window and then rolled it back up.

Eric just kept sitting. Quietly. He almost wanted to pull his knees up, but this was someone else’s car and he didn’t really want to put his shoes on the leather seats. He put his hands on his knees, though, and tensed his knuckles a little.

Whereas the ride to the house was quiet in a calm manner, Eric felt a lot more tense now. He didn’t know this David. And this David dude seemed a lot less poised than Phillip or Marlowe, given how he just turned off the radio and mumbled music lyrics, off-key and without any actual tune. And Eric could recognize that only because, at some point, David was singing some Shinedown song he knew. “State of My Head?” Probably.

Would David be mad? If this was a polyamory situation, would it be like encroaching on territory to have driven Phillip and Marlowe home? Eric didn’t know. He didn’t want it to seem like that; he just didn’t want them to have to call an Uber and get a ticket. Shit was expensive.

At the first red light off the one-lane road, David glanced at him, and Eric caught the sight of a birthmark near his neck. It looked faded but it was still a recognizable shade of red. Eric looked away almost immediately, so David wouldn’t notice him staring. He must not have been too successful, though, because David chose that moment to start a conversation.

#human au #eric #cadence #gavin #the human au has two main fics #the first is about eric joining the polycule and that's where this snippet is from #the second is about everyone else joining the polycule and it is.......... so fucking long / // .. . .#i am just always nervous about the world knowing about things that are close to my heart and like #writing these fics have been getting me through grad school and also having a job in grad school #been very very stressed and taking it out on the boys and now the boys are so close to my heart #i hope you enjoy this !!!#hopefully ill draw new things and change up the layout and get a new theme #ive been thinking of making myself themes because like. whats the point of knowing how to make custom interactives if i cant #make myself a tumblr theme :^)#anyway long winded tags aside #thank you very much for sticking through this with me and thank you everyone who enjoys these homies #i also enjoy them #this is two chapters of the fic actually #its two chapters of the eric fic

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