#artsy halloween exchange

[alicetallula]

Artsy Halloween Exchange 2024 - Mob AU Dragons in Human Forms Destiel - For Laili - 31.10.2024

It was a pleasure to draw for @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes for the Artsy Halloween Exchange organized by @klayr-de-gall :3

I was hit by the idea of combining several little ideas from your list and I wanted to put Dean in the 1940s suit from the Time After Time episode :3 And remembered Misha's role in Timeless as Eliot Ness 😊💚💙

Done using watercolors, ink pens, gel pens, colored pencils, graphite pencils, alcohol marker, metallic watercolors, metallic ink pens, acrylic paint pens and Photoshop for the background and Dean's freckles

AO3 post / Bluesky post / DeviantArt post / Instagram post / Pillowfort post / Twitter post

[cptjh-arts]

D:BH Artsy Halloween Exchange

@klayr-de-gall hosted another event! And I have the feeling to start a tradition here, because my Giftee is @mangabirdao3 for the 3rd time in a row now! And we have kittens again. (I'm not complaining, kittens are awesome!) Manga had a very concrete idea and I was happy to go for that.

I hope you enjoy it and Happy Halloween!

Also... late Gavin-Birthday-Entry as well XD Please do not share without credit, no re-upload as your own art, removing of the signature or watermark and no commercial use!

[aftgficrec]

Staff Recs - Autumn Roundup 2024

Some fics with fall vibes to warm your soul. -AFTG Fic Rec Fam

previous recs:

staff fave Halloween here (includes previous Halloween recs and supernatural roundup)

Fall Exchange 2020 here

‘doubt thou the stars be fire’ here

‘morbid stuff’ series here

‘The End Is Up To Us’ here

‘Autumn Crocus’ here

‘The Suit Universe’ part 8 here

‘Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy’ here

‘FoxTail Cafe’ series part 13 here

‘Apple Picking Day’ here

‘Fair Games’ here

‘little ghost’ here

‘Lucky Strike’ here

‘Foxglove Court’ series here

‘Thanks for nothing’ here

‘Teaching a caged bird to fly’ series part 5 here

‘Sugar, Spice, and Corporate Espionage’ here

‘The Massive Continuity of Ducks’ here

‘Spell it Out’ here

‘10 tips to stress less, without the tips’ here

‘Being So Normal’ here

‘Aidan Minyard’ here

Honeycomb by moonix [Rated T, 10871 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

In which Kevin owns a restaurant in a picturesque small town, Andrew is his chef, Neil disrupts the routine, no one gets poisoned with mushrooms, and life isn't so bad.

tw: implied/referenced eating disorders, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm

Seasons of memory by butallmystars [Rated G, 4772 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil was all sorts of alluring and unusual; a thin strip of seemingly restless energy, eyes moving almost as much as his legs did, the bespoke lines of his blazer the most uniform thing about him and yet somehow not out of place.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

you wish I was yours (and I hope that you're mine) by lesbiankaz [Not Rated, 9526 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

“Aaron Minyard,” Allison said in a dramatic tone. “Truth or dare?” Aaron rolled his eyes. “Dare.” Kevin wasn't surprised. He knew Aaron would prefer to do a stupid dare instead of telling a single thing about himself. “I dare you,” she paused, making suspense, “to spend seven minutes in heaven with Kevin.” - Kevin has a crush on Aaron. Allison tries to help.

5 ultra-cute fall date ideas that will make your man fall more for you by Bravbo [Rated G, 1364 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

The problem starts with one Neil Josten. Neil who has apparently never celebrated any holidays. Neil, with his blasé attitude about violence. Neil, with his distressingly blue eyes and freckles. Neil, who Andrew want to put on a jar and study like a bug. Yes, Neil Josten is a problem. It´s him that has driven Andrew to this, seeking advice on google like a teenage girl just to make sure Neil has the best holiday.

tw: fire

Float Down (Like Autumn Leaves) series by Apaleyellow [Not Rated, 7309 Words, Collection, Updated Oct 2024]

Part 1: fill my cup half empty (because it's never been half full) [5221 Words, Incomplete, Updated Sept 2024] The boy's face in the reflection was pale, almost translucent, with freckles dotting his cheeks and auburn hair falling in untamed curls around his face. His eyes were an icy blue, piercing and filled with a haunting sadness. Nathaniel Wesninski. The Butcher's son. The ghost of the manor. -- OR -- The one where Andrew is a best-selling horror author who visits the Wesninski Manor in search of inspiration for his next book.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder 

Part 2: would we survive in a horror movie? [2088 Words, Complete, 2024] Their moment was interrupted by Seth's booming voice. "Alright, losers. Time for a real story. Ever heard of the Butcher of Baltimore?" -- OR -- The one where the Foxes are telling scary stories around a campfire and only Andrew knows who Neil really is.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder 

penchant by rooftopkisses [Rated T, 5051 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

When Neil is recruited by Coach Wymack to join the track team at Palmetto High School, he draws the attention of Andrew, the artsy loner, as well as Kevin, the sport’s current state champion.

Rebel Rebel by Andreil_pipedream [Rated M, 7905 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

October settles down on the small town outside of Baltimore. Werewolves start haunting the forests and a certain orange cat gets curious. Nell meets an interesting girl who she may or may not have a crush on. After an awkward first meeting, things are made worse- or better- when she finds out they go to the same school. After a few risky decisions and oblivious flirting, she gets a date where everything starts to go wrong.

tw: child abuse, tw: extreme transphobia, tw: gaslighting, tw: confinement, tw: food deprivation, tw: implied/referenced murder

it's still the autumn leaves by TogeMythia [Rated T, 3389 Words, Complete, 2024]

‘Can I come with you?’ Andrew paused, he was sat on the floor with one foot awkwardly in the air and a black sock with an orange pumpkin pattern halfway pulled on. ‘What?’ He asked. ‘Can I come with you? Wherever you are going.’ - or Neil and Andrew spend an autumn afternoon together.

A Bushel and a Peck by justdk [Rated T, 1405 Words, Complete, 2020]

Andrew picked a few low hanging apples, handing one to Neil. They wiped them off on their shirts and snacked on them while they looked for the rest of the team. The sweet, tangy juice filled Neil’s mouth and ran down his chin. It tasted way better than a store-bought apple. Overhead crows called to each other and the smell of apples filled the crisp, autumn air. Neil closed his eyes and breathed in deep, holding in the feeling of freedom and possibility. When he opened his eyes, he found Andrew looking at him, hazel eyes warm and steady. [or: the Foxes go apple picking]

Bets, Blind Dates, and Dares. Oh My! by makebelieveanything [Rated T, 3761 Words, Complete, 2021]

Andrew loses a bet to Aaron and Kevin and he has to go on two blind dates - they go about as well as he would expect. Is Andrew stuck in a rom-com or is this really how life works?

gourd vibes only by otatop [Not Rated, 3750 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

A mini road trip up through New England to meet the foxes.

Disparity by Jeni182 [Rated G, 3781 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

Andrew is a criminal justice professor who keeps finding excuses to visit the library where a certain red head works.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm

hopscotch heart by moonix [Rated M, 2046 Words, Complete, 2021, Locked]

Podfic here

Neil has a terrible time at a party. Andrew shows up and Neil has a slightly less terrible time at a party.

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: anxiety

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness by seaspeak [Not Rated, 869 Words, Complete, 2016, Locked]

In which Jean falls in love with the Fall, thanks to Jeremy

There Was Only One Pumpkin by familiarwildflowers [Not Rated, 2275 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

To get Nicky off his back about his dating life, Neil decided to lie. Surely there would be no consequences? That's what Neil thought, until, while on a visit to a pumpkin patch, Andrew's lot steps in and he's forced to confront his lie.

Pumpkin Patch by H_bee69 [Rated G, 1600 Words, Complete, 2023]

Part 1 of Spooky times and autumn vibes 

Neil wants to go to the pumpkin patch and who is Andrew to deny Neil.

until I fell off from that peak by eeveepkmnfan [Rated M, 4817 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil Josten lives and tries to come to terms with what that means. Or, Neil collects leaves - Andrew vocally protests.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Forever Falling by cshogg [Rated G, 1370 Words, Complete, 2023]

Snippets of Neil and Andrew's life during autumn: trying new things, rewriting traumatic experiences, and learning to love the seasons like normal people do.

[klayr-de-gall]

🎃Artsy Streamers' HALLOWEEN EXCHANGE🎃

Autumn is finally knocking and everyone's favorite Holiday is approaching! What better opportunity to have a little Halloween & Autumn Exchange!

The Exchange will mainly center around Detroit: Become Human, Supernatural and the Hoyoverse Games (As that are the Main fandoms in the server where the Exchange is hosted). You can write down other Fandoms in the Sign-Up, but be aware that they might be harder to match, so make sure to include at least one of the "big three".

Make sure to check out the Rules in the Sign-Up form before joining!

>> SIGN-UP Form <<

This exchange is a great possibility to show a lot of love for our favorite fandoms! The gifts should have to be Halloween and/or Autumn themed, so please consider that in your wishes!

All participants will be matched depending on their wishes and what they are okay with creating, so everyone can have as much fun as possible.

🎃 Important Dates 🎃

Sign-Up Open: 10st September 2024

Sign-Up Close: 18th September 2024

Assignment Day: 20st September 2024

Check-In: 15st October 2024

Posting time: 30th October to 1st November 2024

Whether you join up or not, everyone is welcome to our chill little discord server where we chat and have all kinds of events!

[jaycrow77]

DBH Halloween Exchange

my part of the Artsy dbh exchange for @vladlen4i! I never draw rk1700 so I had to jump on the chance!

accidentally deleted my account, now we repost everything and start over.

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Saturday, September 7

GILES: I'll go dig up my sources. Quite literally, actually. ANYA: Come on, let's go assemble the cannon fodder. XANDER: That's not what we're calling them, sweetie. ANYA: Not to their faces. What, am I insensitive?

~~BtVS 7x22 “Chosen”~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Are You Gonna Kiss Me or Not? (Buffy/Giles, T) by Skyson

Graveyard shift (Buffy/Angel, G) by Liana_Medea

Beautiful Things (Buffy/Giles, T) by Nixiet

[Collection] 2024-09: 6/9 Smubbles (4 BtVS fics) (various ships and ratings) by unrevealed authors

Look what we got (Willow, Faith, G) by TwoToGo

To Do (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by EllieRose101

[Chaptered Fiction]

Supporting Loki (And Thor), Chapter 5/18 (Buffy, Willow, Marvel xover, M) by SomeMeaninglessName

Shadowed Suspicion Volume XI, Chapter 5/? (Ensemble, Jojo's Bizarre Adventure xover, T) by arcanedreamer

Evil Friends, Chapter 6/? (Andrew/Warren, M) by JohnnyB

Situation Normal - All Faithed Up, Chapter 6/? (Buffy/Faith, M) by QuillBard

Calendar Girl, Chapter 2/12 (Buffy/Giles, E) by DancingAngel0013

The World Next to Us, Chapter 4/? (Multiship, Legacies xover, M) by Anaxilea

In the Company of Witches and Slayers:, Chapter 151/200 (Willow/Tara, E) by VladimirHarkonnen (TheLightdancer)

Greatest Love Story - Prelude, Chapter 10/? (Angelus/William, Angel/Spike, M) by FalseGinger

[French Language] Do as Romans do, Chapter 44 (Dawn/Spike, T) by OldGirl-NoraArlani

Oh My Goddess, Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, R) by Maxine Eden

In The Dark With You, Chapter 34 (Buffy/Spike, R) by Geliot99

Slayer's Soulmate, Chapter 4 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by vampirische liebe

Little Light, Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Melme1325

Truth and Consequences, Chapter 23 (Buffy/Spike, R) by JamesMFan

The Watcher, Chapter 30 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by In Mortal

Incarnate, Chapter 14 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Sigyn

When Hecate Met Xander, Chapter 5 (Xander, Fimbulwinter xover, FR18) by Balder

Oh My Goddess, Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, R) by Maxine Eden

In The Dark With You, Chapter 34 (Buffy/Spike, R) by Geliot99

The Watcher, Chapter 30 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by In Mortal

[Images, Audio & Video]

Gifset: Every Tara look: S4E16 Who Are You? (worksafe) by lovebvffys

Artwork: cangel-tattoos-posting volume 3! (Angel/Cordelia, worksafe) by artsying-ifer

Artwork: Spuffy soul babies for Sigyn’s bday (nudity, slightly NSFW) by isevery0nehereverystoned

Moodboard: [Buffy Summers] (worksafe) by shoediva

Artwork: [Drawing of Buffy(bot) and Spike] (worksafe) by artofnicolle

Artwork: Forgiveness… (Buffy/Spike, worksafe) by o-cm-draw-o

Artwork: They inspire me a lot… (Buffy/Spike, worksafe) by o-cm-draw-o

Artwork: Mr. and Mrs. Big Pile of Dust (Buffy/Spike, worksafe) by flyora

Fanvid: [Angelus scenes] (worksafe) by bananabeans88

Gifset: Buffy Meme: [3/6 Relationships] Buffy/Dawn (worksafe) by lovebvffys

Gifs: BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER | 4.14 & 5.12 — The Summers sisters and their food themed pajamas (worksafe) by whatisyourchildhoodtrauma

Fanvid: Angel&Wesley | loml by 1SnoWhiteQueen1

Artwork: Buffy The Red Ranger [Digital Collage] (worksafe) by Beached-Peach

Artwork: Those Secret Worlds You Call Eyes, Chapter 3: Spike (worksafe) by flootzavut

[Reviews & Recaps]

Never Kill a Boy on the First Date by Slayin It with Juliet Landau

PODCAST: Welcome to the OC B!tch (S4E19) by It Stakes Two

[Community Announcements]

[Multifandom] Trick or Treat Exchange - Nominations Open by trickortreatex

[Multifandom] Spook Me Multi-Fandom Halloween Ficathon 2024 - Sign Ups by spook_me

Reminder - I have an 18+ Discord server for the ship Buffy/Giles by natewallace

[Fandom Discussions]

Joss Whedon's "Self-Insert" by itsnotmymind

a crazy thing about angel that i am still trying to articulate is the way that both angelus and angel tend to “pick” people by cordysangels

reading the scrip for BTVS 6X15 and Sam, Riley’s wife, exists for literally no purpose by loseremzo

I hate season 7 of “Buffy the vampire slayer” by trealtox

Merrick deeply affected early seasons Buffy and her relationship w Giles by duckwnoeyes

The ultimate pitfall of Season 6 is one seen in a lot of other shows by lightdancer1

Why didn’t Tara say anything consistently about Willow’s potential magic problems until Season 6 started by lightdancer1

the thing about buffy is that almost all the metaphors are metaphors for sex by newcakemix

thinking about how they buried buffy in the least buffy-ish dress i can think of and whose decision was that? by slugessence

Out of Mind, Out of Sight Fashion Part Two by theoverlookedoneedits1997

Discussion of 2.16 "Bewitched, Bothered And Bewildered" - Aired 2/10/1998 (WB-US) continued by Stake fodder

When did Amber Benson say she never wanted to be part of the main cast? by ct-hulu

The technology in Buffy was outdated and super advanced! by EndLegitimate9612

character deaths, actors contracts and roles and how it relates to Buffy by redskinsguy

Can vampires drink from each other’s blood? by pennycuriee

Yeah, season 5 might be the best one. But season 7 will always be my favorite. by Senior-Leave779

What I don’t get with Spike’s “Redemption” by Infinite-Wheel-3746

Thoughts about Angel’s return in S3 by Aahiagde

They kinda wasted Kendra by Lady_Ghost_Bee

Doing a rewatch and I forgot how funny David Boreanaz is at being petty and childish by Mega5010

Angel's thing for Faith by yeahitsme9

Who's a side character whose perspective on the Buffyverse you're curious about? by Ok_Area9367

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)

[canadiankakashi]

My gift for the wonderful @artsy-book for the @mcyt-halloween gift exchange :]

[noomyart]

My piece for the Artsy Halloween Exchange - This one's for @headfulloffantasy who asked for some monster AU!

Gavin loves his gargoyle boyfriend <3

[1rakus]

some1 has prob asked u this before but ill ask anyways: what are some of ur top horror movie recs? i love horror & mainly consume it thru video games & the occasional ARG if its good enough, & i wanna expand my horizons by watching some good scary movies too. but for reference i literally never watch movies EVER (unless theyre kids movies bc i have 3 little siblings) & so i recognize only half of the director names uve listed & all i know of the ones i DO recognize are from rumors spouted on the internet🥴anyways u seem to have good taste so id love a rec or 2 from u thanksss💜

oh man i dont know if i have good taste at all!! i'm not even sure what good taste entails these days... well ok. in my opinion you should start with some classics. here is a small selection, please come back and give your opinion when youve watched one

the shining (1980) - the director is stanley kubrick, who is known as one of the most confusing and chaotic directors to work with of all time. his films are really creative and artsy horror that i dont think anyone else can really emulate. the vibe of the shining is bright, shocking colors and exaggerated expressions. there is a sense of very energetic fear and strange danger i think!

rosemary's baby (1968) - the director is roman polanski who is known for being a creep pedophile who married his own stepkid, but also one of the best directors in the history of western film. he's still alive and hiding from the american legal system in the alps. this movie's vibe is quiet paranoia, gaslighting, and extremely tense, hushed exchanges that bely sinister secret machinations. veeeery crazy film

the thing (1982) - the director is john carpenter who i actually don't know much about! wikipedia says he also produced the cult classic halloween, but mostly his early films were flops. ngl i love that. this horror film is soooo fun i can't really overstate it. it's just among us but they're all trapped in an antarctic research base

[headfulloffantasy]

“I have reason to believe,” his voice shook at the accusation on his tongue, causing Gavin to squeeze his eyes shut to regain control, “that one of you is a witch.���

Happy Halloween to @marvelmerlinao3 and everyone seeing this post!

This story is part of the Artsy Streamer Halloween gift exchange. Hope you enjoy this little story in the spooky season, comfy at home with a good cup of your favorite drink.

Pairing: Reed1700

Rated: Mature

Alternate Universe - Soulmates and witches

[alicetallula]

WIP TITLE GAME

rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have wips.

Thanks for the tag @kallisto-k! I'm only probably gonna put the WIPs I have in a pile right now... or else it's gonna be too long if I add my different display books containing started WIPs for past events into the mix 😭😅

Note : All my WIPs are art pieces obviously 😊And I might be a bit devious and only share a few lines from said WIPs if I get any asks, or a few simple words related to said WIPs

Hannibal WIPs :

1# Nightmare Fuel Fest prompt

IT WIPs:

2# We All Float Zine drawing (Not Sharing a WIP of this one)

3# HallowRen 5 - 2 drawings

4# Reddie drawing for Robyn's fic

5# Reddie drawing for Sam and Erin - Autumn themed

Supernatural WIPs:

6# DeanCas BB - 2 drawings

7# DC Horrorfest - Terror As Sharp As Pain - Dividers - 5 drawings

8# Halloween Artsy Exchange (Not sharing WIP if this one)

9# SPN Reverse Bang Bang - 2 drawings

Our Flag Means Death WIPs:

10# Steddyhands Week + AO3 Favorite Tag Bingo + OFMD Kintober 2024 - 1 drawing

Stranger Things WIPs:

11# Billy Big Bang - 5 drawings

12# Bylerween prompt

13# Corroded Coffin Fest Seven Deadly Sins - 2 drawings

14# Four-or-More Fic-A-Thon - Steve/Eddie/Jonathan/Chrissy drawing

15# Harringrove Secret Drawing (Not sharing WIP of this one)

16# Harringrove Kinktober prompt

17# Hellcheer Week prompt

18# Metalsandwich Bingo prompt

19# September Stobin's Extravaganza prompt

20# Steddie Spooktober prompt

Okay I'm gonna do by best tagging peeps, no pressure, no need to participate if you don't wanna - and I apologise in advance if you're bothered by the tag ! : @samanddean76 @masoena @dothwrites

@thatgirlwithasquid @evanesdust @mixsethaddams

@billysblueeyes @fizzigigsimmer @mashawisotsky

@corrupt-touch @myguardianangel-ina-trenchcoat @desiraelovesdestiel

@myrkky @alduade-art @artgroves

@nickelkeep @artemis-73 @hectatess @howtobecomeadragon @frogsdontcry & anyone else who wants to do this !

[cptjh-arts]

D:BH Artsy Halloween Exchange

@klayr-de-gall asked for a Pinch hitter and I gladly took the challenge!

@alicetallula you wished for Reed900 on a date with hot drinks and funny sweaters. I didn't do sweaters but blankets, but I hope you like it anyways!

I had to size it down I hope the quality/resolution is still good enough!

Please not share without credits, no reupload as own art, no removal of the signature or watermark and no use for commercial purposes!

[wokeuptired]

every perfect summer

Finn is steady on her own two feet but Niall is a hurricane, determined to bring to the surface what she’s long buried. If only he weren’t so beautiful at sunset, she might be able to resist. 

written for​ @majorharry ‘s 20k fic celebration 

prompt #29: “stop looking at me like that.”

niall/ofc, 6.2k

Summer in California is hot and sticky, the kind of sticky that makes you feel silly showering, because as soon as you walk outside, you’ll be sweaty all over again. Even with the fan on full blast, Finn’s thighs are sticking to the leather of the couch she took from her mom’s house when she moved out. She’s read the same page a hundred times, over and over again. The heat makes it hard to think. 

The heat makes it hard to breathe.

And mostly, the heat makes it hard to write.

Finn’s about to put the book down when she hears footsteps on the stairs outside. Her apartment complex is a series of buildings each containing a dozen apartments. Finn shares the landing of her staircase with the apartment next door, but it’s the wrong time of day for Cindy and Ralph to be returning home, which means—

“Your new downstairs neighbor is hot,” Jocelyn announces as the apartment door slams shut behind her, the gust of warm air ruffling the pages of Finn’s book. She looks up to roll her eyes.

“You think every guy is hot.”

Jocelyn dumps her shopping on the kitchen table and scoffs. “I do not. Just the hot ones.”

“Aren’t you engaged?” Finn glances down at the big shiny ring on Jocelyn’s finger to emphasize her point. Even though Jocelyn moved out six months ago, when her boyfriend popped the question, sometimes it feels like she never left. Right now is one of those times. “What’s Marcus think about all this looking you do?” 

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.” Jocelyn punctuates her statement with a saucy flip of her hair and begins unloading her bags onto the small kitchen counter. She holds up a carton of ice cream. “Should I bother putting this away, or do you want to dive in right now?” 

Finn holds her hand out for the rocky road. “You know me so well.” 

“You’re welcome.” As Finn digs into the tub of ice cream, Jocelyn begins putting things away in the fridge. “You know,” she says into the veggie drawer, “I’m not kidding about your new neighbor. He’s got this angelic frat boy look to him. Have you met him yet?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “Last week. He offered to carry a package upstairs for me. Very polite, and totally not my type.” 

“Exactly.” Jocelyn sits on the couch with another spoon and slides the ice cream out of Finn’s grasp. “As your older sister, it’s my job to advise you on everything. Starting with your interest in men, which is, to be frank, utter shit.” 

Finn opens her mouth to object, but she can’t find fault with Jocelyn’s statement. Her last boyfriend wouldn’t come to any work events with her but insisted she attend all of his art shows. He had an ego the size of the Milky Way to make up for his abysmal lack of talent.

“You need to stop dating those neurotic, artsy types,” Jocelyn continues, “and date a man who can, like, actually kill a spider.”

“I’m perfectly capable of killing my own spiders.” As long as they’re small and not moving, but Finn doesn’t feel the need to share that caveat. 

“So am I,” Jocelyn says. “Do you want wine?” She doesn’t wait for Finn to answer before she gets up and goes straight for the cupboard that holds the long-stem glasses. “Anyway, that’s not my point. You need to stop dating boys who look good on paper and start dating men who are good. In real life.” 

Finn closes her book so that it doesn’t have to listen to this conversation. She accepts the wine glass from Jocelyn���s outstretched hand and swirls around the liquid within. It doesn’t go with the ice cream, but she’s 25 years old, so that doesn’t matter.

Jocelyn scowls at the closed book. “Virginia Woolf again, Finn? Are you ever going to read anything written in this century?”

Finn rolls her eyes. If there’s one thing her sister excels at, it’s being unsatisfied with all aspects of Finn’s life. “Are you here just to criticize me? Or are we watching ‘The Bachelor’?”

Jocelyn grins, spoon still in her mouth. “Oh, we’re watching ‘The Bachelor.’” 

-----

The thing about “The Bachelor,” Finn decides that night as she’s brushing her teeth, is that, for the women involved, the ones competing for the bachelor’s heart, there are no consequences. 

Oh, small consequences, sure. Your decision might make somebody else cry, or your heart might be slightly bruised, but at the end of it all, you’ve got thousands of new Instagram followers and you’re famous in your small town and everybody wants to date you, even though you chose, of your own free will, to engage in the skeptical that is a dating game show. 

But there are no big consequences, no bad consequences. A few months later and the next season’s airing, and everything you did, every dumb thing you said, every kiss you exchanged—it’s all forgotten. 

Maybe that’s the way to go, Finn thinks. 

Maybe next year, she ought to audition. She develops the pitch in her head: 25 year old ghostwriter of bestselling romance novels; lives alone in Los Angeles; has been considering, for an entire year, the adoption of a cat; has never been in love. 

It’s that last part that would sway them, she thinks. The producers would imagine her doe-eyed and innocent, maybe a bit naive. She’d be pitted against the season’s villain, the girl with dark hair (a visual contrast to Finn’s blond bob) who would stop at nothing to win her man. 

“How can she write romance novels when she has never known love?” audiences across America would wonder. 

Perhaps the bachelor himself would even inquire. Finn would smile shyly, bat her impossibly long eyelashes up at him, and say something coy like, “You could tutor me.” 

Jocelyn would love that. She lives for the drama, for what the editors create in post-production. She doesn’t care that it’s fake.

And every week Finn watches and wonders how she can keep selling love in her books when this show proves, without a doubt, that it doesn’t exist.

-----

The new downstairs neighbor works out in the mornings on his patio. Finn hears his music the next morning, drifting in through her open sliding door, around 8:30 AM. It’s not early enough for her to be justifiably annoyed at him, but she’s annoyed nonetheless, because she’s just sat down at her laptop with the intention of writing something today.

Something. Anything. Words on the page, that’s all she needs. 

Instead, she sighs, closing her laptop and crossing the room to the balcony. She slides the door open further, pushes the screen out of the way, and goes outside. When she and Jocelyn first moved in, the balcony was a huge appeal. “Outdoor space!” they’d squealed when they first saw the apartment listed online. But now Finn’s been here for two and a half years, and the balcony is just another space for dust to collect. 

It’s directly over Downstairs Neighbor’s patio. Finn looks down through the wooden slats and tries to catch a glimpse at him. She can hear Jocelyn’s voice in her head: He’s hot, right? I told you he was hot! 

In truth, though, Finn can’t see much through the small gaps between the planks. She can’t tell if he’s lifting weights or doing jumping jacks or playing a very enthusiastic game of cat’s cradle. He’s definitely grunting, though. 

Finn shakes her head, trying not to focus on the noises he’s making, and crosses the balcony. She leans her arms on the railing and looks out over the beauty of Los Angeles. Beauty referring, of course, to the parking lot. Finn can see her car, about thirty feet away, parked beneath an evil tree that drops red berries. It really needs to be washed. 

Maybe she should take it today. Maybe today will be the first day in a month that she’s gotten dressed in pants that have a zipper and a button, and she’ll go to the carwash and—

Feeling something crawling on her arm, Finn looks down, and oh, shit, it’s a spider. Not a little spider, not a daddy long legs, but one of those ones that’s big enough where you can see its body. It looks like one of those spiders a little kid draws around Halloween. 

Oh, shit. Finn lifts her arm, waving it wildly, trying to shake the spider loose before it bites her and turns her into Spider Woman, and that’s when she throws her mug of coffee into the air. 

“Oh, shit,” she says out loud. Time seems to slow as she watches her mug descend, coffee flying everywhere as the cup turns a full 360 degrees before landing with a crack on the concrete below. 

“What the fuck?” It’s Downstairs Neighbor. 

“Oh, shit,” Finn says again. Which, no doubt, Downstairs Neighbor heard. Oh, shit. That one’s in her head, at least.

She hears a grunt as he, she imagines, lowers his weight to the ground, then the snick of his sliding glass door, then the sound of his front door opening, and then, oh, shit, there he is, standing on the ground, looking at her broken coffee cup. 

Oh, shit, Finn thinks again as she drops to her knees, hiding herself from view. 

Apparently unsuccessfully, as not thirty seconds later, she hears, “I can see you, ya know.” 

Finn rises slowly to her feet and looks down. It’s hard not to admit that Jocelyn was right as she looks down at him, messy hair and blue eyes and muscles visible through his sweaty t-shirt. 

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.” His eyes twinkle, and she knows he’s trying not to laugh at her. “This yours?” 

“Yeah. Sorry I interrupted you.” 

He laughs then, a light, musical sound that she can feel in her toes. Oh, shit. That’s not good. Finn’s characters feel laughter in their toes, but she certainly doesn’t. Feeling someone’s laughter in her toes is not a real thing, she’s always thought, except, apparently, it is.

“What happened?” he asks. 

“There was a spider.”

“A spider.” 

Finn nods, cheeks burning. “It was a big spider.” 

“You gonna come clean it up?” 

Finn nods again. “In a minute.” 

“Okay.” He grins up at her and she blushes back. 

Finn turns around and goes inside, sliding the door shut behind her, and waits, listening for the sounds of Downstairs neighbor reentering his own apartment, shutting the door, locking it. When a minute has passed without any of that, Finn realizes that he must be waiting for her. 

Oh, shit. Finn doesn’t have to be Jocelyn to know that this is not the ideal situation in which one wants to interact with Hot Downstairs Neighbor. But it seems like she doesn’t have a choice, so she slips on the flip flops she keeps by the door and goes downstairs. 

He’s still there, standing in the sunshine, squinting when he smiles. “There you are,” he says. 

“Here I am.” Finn looks down, surveying the damage. The mug has split into several large chunks, and maybe if Finn were better at diy-ing she’d be able to fix it, but as things stand now, it’s destined for the garbage. “Damn, I really liked that mug.” 

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Downstairs Neighbor says, which is such a strange thing to say that Finn startles, turning to stare at him. 

“Thanks?” she says. 

“You’re welcome.” He smiles, holding out his hand. “I’m Niall.” 

Finn accepts the handshake. “I’m Finn.” 

His hand is warm and a bit clammy, a bit like California in the summer, and her stomach goes topsy-turvy. She yanks her hand back. 

“Nice to meet you,” Niall says. “I guess you’re the neighbor who watches ‘The Bachelor’?” 

Jesus Christ, Finn thinks, dropping to a squat. She gathers up the pieces of her destroyed mug and doesn’t answer him. How nosy of him, asking her that. But then, she was the one listening to him work out this morning. 

“My sister likes it,” she says. “I’m just along for the ride.” 

“Hey, there’s no shame in liking ‘The Bachelor,’” Niall says, dropping down beside her. They reach for the last piece at the same time, hands brushing. Finn draws hers back, trying to ignore the tingling in her fingertips. “Here.” 

Finn accepts the final shard. “Thanks,” she says. “And I don’t like ‘The Bachelor.’ I think it’s silly.” 

Niall smiles at her again, all teeth and sunshine. “What’s silly about love?”

Finn blinks at him, trying to decide if he’s an idiot or just bad at small talk. Maybe both. “That show is not about love,” she says. “Have you ever seen it?” 

“No.” He shakes his head. “But I’ve heard it through the ceiling.” 

Jesus Christ, Finn thinks again. What a neighbor. She can’t wait to tell Jocelyn about this, to prove to her that Downstairs Neighbor may be hot, but his positive qualities end there. He’s intrusive and nosy and way, way too good looking.

“You can get back to your workout,” she says, standing up straight. He follows, forcing her to look up to meet his eyes. “Sorry for bothering you.” 

“Not a bother,” he says. “It was nice to meet you, Finn.” 

“Yep,” she says, offering him a half smile before she turns tail and dashes up the stairs, back to her safe, quiet, Downstairs Neighbor-free apartment. Back to her laptop, and the manuscript due in three months that she hasn’t managed to crack yet. Back to being hot and sweaty inside her apartment, instead of outside. 

“Have a good day!” he calls after her. She doesn’t return the greeting. 

-----

The next morning, a knock on the door wakes Finn up from a dream, the kind of dream that you know as soon as you wake was a good one, but it’s too late, you’ve forgotten it, and you won’t be able to get it back. 

“No,” she mutters, turning over in bed, burrowing into the pillow. “I’m sleeping.” But then the knock sounds again. “Damnit.” 

Finn climbs out of bed and reaches for her phone on the nightstand. 8:27 AM on a Wednesday. An acceptable hour for someone to be knocking on the door, she supposes. Except she was up till 1 o’clock trying to make her messy notes into something resembling an outline that could someday (someday soon, she hopes) be a book. 

The morning person disturbing her sleep knocks again, eliminating the possibility that it’s just UPS dropping off a package. Finn drops her phone on the bed and makes her way down the hall to the living room, where sunlight blares in so sharply it makes her squint. 

“Gah,” she says to herself as she pulls open the door. And then, “Oh, it’s you.”

“It’s me,” Hot Downstairs Neighbor—Niall, Finn corrects herself—says. “UPS dropped off this package at my door, but I think it’s yours.” 

Finn looks down at the envelope he’s holding out, but the label is blurry. Oh, shit, her glasses. “If you say so,” she says. “I’d have to grab my glasses to know for sure.” 

Niall smiles at her, she thinks, but the details of his face are a bit blurry. “I can wait,” he says. “We should make sure it’s yours.” 

Finn frowns at him for a second—He can read, can’t he? Shouldn’t he know if it’s her name on the label?—before deciding that it’s too early for an argument. “Fine, whatever,” she says, turning around and leaving him in the doorway. 

That’s where she expects him to stay, but when she returns to the door a minute later with her glasses perched on her nose, he’s inside her apartment, poking around the bookshelves on either side of her television. The package he brought over has been discarded on the coffee table. 

Finn ignores him for a second as she picks it up. Yep, it’s definitely hers. It’s a proof of her latest Isobel novel, if she had to guess. But she’s not going to open it now, not with Niall here. 

Niall, who is currently nosing around her living room, looking much too closely at things she’d rather he not see. 

“What are these?” Niall steps closer to the bookshelf, his eyes scanning the spines. “You read romance novels?”

“Not exactly,” Finn says. Which lie should she tell this time? She has a few prepared: “they’re my sister’s” or “my roommate forgot them when she moved out.” Said roommate is said sister, but for the sake of the lie, that wouldn’t matter. But then the truth slips out. “I write them.”

“You write them?” Niall repeats. He pulls one of the books out, Summer’s Dalliance, about two yoga instructors who find love during a training retreat in the Maldives. “You’re Isobel Soleil?”

Finn can tell from the way Niall says Isobel Soleil that he’s heard of her. Who hasn’t heard of her, these days? Her books are in grocery stores and airport shops and on bestseller lists and there’s a series in development with HBO. 

As a ghostwriter, Finn isn’t involved, but she knows the show will help move sales, which means bigger checks, which means maybe, eventually, she can write something she actually cares about.

“Not exactly.” Finn takes the book out of his hand and returns it to its place on the shelf. It’s not as if she’s proud of it. That’s not why she has it out. It’s just a placeholder until she publishes a book she’s actually proud of. “Isobel Soleil isn’t a person. She’s a brand. Her books are written by half a dozen different people. How do you think she can pump them out so quickly?”

“How quickly?” 

“Three or four a year.”

“And you wrote all of these?” Niall’s finger runs along the spines. “How many are there? Ten?”

“Eight,” Finn corrects. Eight cheesy, embarrassing, don’t-let-your-mother-see-you-reading-that novels. “But they’re formulaic and simplistic. They’re not… they’re not good.”

Niall shrugs. “They’re not high literature, you mean. Someone reads them, though, right? And the people who read them enjoy them. So who cares if they’re not high literature, Finn?” 

Finn swallows the sudden lump in her throat. How has Niall managed to get to the quick of things so, well, quick? “I care, I guess. This isn’t what I imagined I’d be doing when I was little, telling people I wanted to be a writer when I grew up.”

“So write something else,” Niall says. 

Finn sighs. She wishes it were that easy. If only she could break out of the mold she’s put herself in and write something else, something that’s not about two people falling in love. If only she could write something she actually believed in.

But she has a contract and a deadline and an agent and an editor on her back, and no choice but to finish this Isobel Soleil novel. 

“Maybe next summer,” she says. 

Niall considers her, nods. “Speaking of this summer,” he says slowly, like he’s thinking about what he’s going to say as he’s saying it, “I have free tickets to LACMA, and I just moved to town so I don’t know a ton of people. Want to go with me?” 

Say yes or no more ice cream, Jocelyn’s voice says in the back of Finn’s mind. 

“Sure,” she says. “But you know my secret”—she gestures to the bookshelves—“so now you have to tell me one of yours. So I know you’re not a serial killer or something.” 

He smiles at her and, damn, he’s good looking. “I’m a lawyer,” he says. “My new job doesn’t start till August, so I’m working remotely with my old firm until then.” 

“That’s not a secret.” Not a secret at all, but a great career for a hero in a romance novel. Finn makes a mental note. 

“Okay,” Niall says. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back, lifting one hand to his chin, a classic thinking pose. “How about this? I’m not from here.” 

Finn shakes her head. She’d already guessed that from his accent, a soft, lilting Irish one that makes everything he says sound like a poem. “Not a secret either. You get one more try.” 

“One more try!” he says with mock shock. “I’ll make this good, then.”

He thinks and Finn waits, and in the thirty seconds it takes him to come up with a good secret, she wonders what the hell she’s doing, flirting with Hot Downstairs Neighbor in her living room while dressed in her pajamas. Oh, shit, she’s not wearing a bra, is she?

Finn crosses her arms over her chest and considers backing out of this conversation entirely by making something up that will put Niall off and convince him that she’s the worst possible LACMA companion. 

But then he says, “I can’t swim,” and that is distracting enough to make her forget everything else. 

“You can’t swim?” she asks. “What the hell are you doing in southern California?” 

Niall shrugs. His smile makes her insides go wonky. “Maybe you can teach me.” Then he holds out his phone. “Here, give me your number. I’ll text you and we can make plans.” 

She obliges, all the while wondering what exactly she’s gotten herself into. 

-----

LACMA day comes much quicker than Finn anticipates. When she and Niall first made the plans a week ago, Saturday seemed like ages away. There was so much she was going to do between now and then: repot all of her plants, make bread from scratch, work on her manuscript. But instead, she putters around her apartment, typing words here and there, ignoring how bad they are, and not baking bread. 

It’s a waste of a week, and not just because Niall is there, in the back of her mind, the whole time. 

Jocelyn’s excited, of course, for LACMA day, and insists on coming over the night before to help Finn select her outfit. Finn keeps reminding her that it’s summer in Los Angeles, so it’s a thousand degrees out and she will melt no matter what she wears, but Jocelyn doesn’t care.

Which is how Finn ends up knocking on Niall’s door on LACMA day dressed in a romper that’s giving her a wedgie, a purse she never carries slung over her shoulder. Jocelyn even forced her to wear lip gloss. 

“Lip gloss makes you a different person,” Jocelyn said last night on her way out. “I left you three options. Please wear one.” 

“I don’t take advice from the Sweet Valley Twins anymore,” Finn had retorted as she shut the door in Jocelyn’s face. 

But she’s wearing the lip gloss anyway. Her hair has already gotten stuck in it three times, and all she’s done is climb down the stairs. 

She knocks again, half hoping Niall hasn’t changed his mind and half hoping that he has. If he has, she can go back upstairs, put her pajamas on again, and continue to stare at her blank Word document. But then he opens the door.

“Good morning!” His smile is so bright it makes her squint. “Coffee?” 

He holds out a travel mug to her, waiting for her to take it. 

“Good morning,” she says after she takes a sip. The coffee is exactly the right temperature and perfectly sweet, which is almost enough to make her smile. “This is good coffee.” 

“It’s from Ecuador,” Niall says. He steps out onto the welcome mat and closes the apartment door behind him. “Hold this for me?” 

Finn holds his travel mug as he locks the door and turns the knob a couple of times to make sure it’s secure. Then he turns around, his smile lighting up his face. 

“Ready?” he asks.

“Ready,” she says, though she’s pretty sure she isn’t.

She learns, over the next few hours, that Niall’s energy is nonstop. He talks constantly during their drive to the museum, talks as they park the car, talks as they ride the elevator to the top floor and begin making their way through the galleries. He tells her where he’s from and where he went to school and what his favorite sports teams are. 

And she finds herself talking too. She tells him about her sister and where she went to school and how she got started writing Isobel Soleil novels, and the entire time, she’s taking mental notes about him, about the way he holds doors for her and grins down at her and laughs even when her jokes are barely funny. 

This is how the heroes in her novels behave. They are handsome and well-meaning and have substantial life goals. They are polite and conscientious and make the heroines feel brave and important and valued. And that’s how Finn finds herself feeling: like if she had something to say, Niall would listen to it. 

After the museum, they stop for lunch at a restaurant Finn found on Yelp as they were leaving the parking structure. It’s small and bright inside, but as Niall pulls out Finn’s chair for her, it occurs to her, for the first time, that this might actually be a date. 

Jocelyn had said as much last night, but Finn had ignored her, as she does with most things Jocelyn says. But now, seated across from Niall, with nowhere to look but at him, reality dawns, and it’s blinding. 

But, she decides, she won’t address it, and she carries on with the meal as if they are recent acquaintances and neighbors, which is, she reminds herself, exactly what they are. 

-----

After LACMA day, Niall texts Finn about the movie he’s watching, and she imagines she can hear it through the floor. Later that evening, he texts her good night, and then, the next day, he texts her good morning. The next weekend, they go to Venice Beach together, and they see a movie in a classic theater downtown the following Tuesday. That night, he comes over for dinner, and they cook together, finding their way around each other in Finn’s small kitchen. 

And all of a sudden, this summer is different, hot and sticky like all the others, but different because this summer has Niall. 

Niall on the couch, bare feet up on the coffee table, listing all the reasons that golf is superior to all other sports. 

Niall in the passenger’s seat of her car, singing along to the radio even when he doesn’t know the words, the sun setting behind him, lighting him up as if it’s saying, “Look, he’s beautiful.”

And he is beautiful. Niall in her thoughts, Niall on the back of her eyelids when she blinks, Niall in her dreams. Niall, beautiful. 

And Niall in her manuscript, try as she might to keep him out. In sticking with the proposal she made to her editor back in the spring, she’s writing about a doctor and an artist who meet when they’re sharing a wall in a duplex summer rental on the coast of Oregon. By midsummer, she’s written thirty thousand words, enough to reassure her editor that she’s still writing, that things are fine, and, upon rereading, she realizes that the doctor has become Niall.

The doctor, so sure of himself, driven and determined and sexier than any other hero she’s ever written. He is confident and has beautiful eyes and magic fingers, and the heroine, the artist, is head over heels in love with him before she’s even thought to like him. 

And the artist. Finn is the artist, the confused, prideful creative soul who doesn’t want love, is afraid of it, just wants to be left alone. But now she has the lawyer, the beautiful, handsome, intelligent, lovely lawyer who makes her want to stop hiding. He makes her want to feel things. He makes her want to reach out for him, to push her fears aside and let her have what she wants. 

July brings that realization and an unseasonal thunderstorm that forces Finn to bring out a bucket and email her landlord about that leak in the roof from December that still hasn’t been fixed. That’s a momentary distraction, at least, from thoughts of Niall, thoughts of Niall that are plaguing her every moment. Awake, asleep, Niall. Always Niall. 

It’s thundering overhead when there’s a knock at her door. She opens it, and there he is, like she’s conjured him.

“I brought wine,” he says, holding out the bottle.

“Come in,” she says. She thinks of how much has changed since she sat on her couch a month ago, drinking wine with Jocelyn. She wishes, for a moment, that she could go back. But then she looks at Niall again. 

And she doesn’t want to look away, like the artist doesn’t want to look away from the doctor. When you find something this perfect, why would you ever look away? Why would you let it go? 

Finn knows from experience, though, that sometimes you don’t get to choose when people leave. Sometimes they leave you, aching and cold and alone. Sometimes it’s not up to you. 

“Come in,” she says again. She grabs two wine glasses from the kitchen and joins Niall in the living room, where they sit on the couch, thighs pressed together, and he picks a movie for them to watch. 

She isn’t paying attention, though, as she downs two glasses of wine and wonders if Niall will kiss her tonight. She’d like him to, she decides, just as much as she doesn’t want him to. It’s like the Schroedinger’s cat of kisses—if they never kiss, she will never know the kiss, but she will also never know what happens after it. She will never know if they go further, if they stop abruptly, if he breaks her heart and leaves her in pieces, smashed on the concrete like her broken coffee mug. 

But she will also never know if it will be beautiful, like the loves of the characters in her novels, characters who risk their hearts when they don’t know what the outcome will be. The difference between Finn and Niall and the artist and the doctor, though, is that Finn can control the artist and the doctor. She can decide their ending, she can choose the words for the last page. 

And maybe, with Niall, she doesn’t want a last page. 

Two hours later, Finn is wine-drunk and sitting on the floor, her back pressed against the couch. Niall is next to her, the table pushed away from them to accommodate his long legs. She leans her head on his shoulder, thinking, in the way only a wine-addled mind will allow, that she’d like to keep this night forever, seal it into a locket and wear it around her neck. 

“Tell me again why you don’t like your books,” Niall says. He has her newest proof in front of him on the table. It’s littered with post-it notes, changes Finn would’ve made to it had she had more time. But it’s too late now, and it will print as is. 

“They’re not good,” Finn says, her go-to explanation. “I can do better.” 

Niall shakes his head. “But they are good. I read Sunshine in Your Mouth, and it’s good. You’re a good writer, Finn.” 

“Oh, no.” Finn ducks, covering her face with her arms. “You read it? I can’t believe you read it.” 

“Yeah, I did.” Niall tugs her arm away from her face. “Stop hiding from me.” 

Oh, if only he knew how apt that statement was, then maybe he wouldn’t say it. Finn puts her arms down and refills her wine glass. She knows she shouldn’t drink any more, but maybe if she does, she’ll stop thinking about how blue Niall’s eyes are and how soft his fingers feel against her arm. 

“Tell me the truth,” Niall says, thumbing the post-its in her proof copy. “Why don’t you like being Isobel Soleil?” 

“Because I’m not her. I’m not like her. I just don’t believe in love,” Finn tries to explain. “It’s like—”

Niall laughs. “Love’s not like the tooth fairy, Finn. You don’t have to have felt it to know it’s real.” 

Finn looks at him, at his soft cheeks and his pink lips and his messy hair. In another life, in another version of this world, maybe she and Niall have known each other forever, since they were kids. And maybe Finn loves Niall. Maybe she always has. Maybe they fit. Maybe it’s the easiest thing this other Finn’s ever felt. 

But the Finn that lives in this world, the one sitting on the floor of her apartment with her knees pulled to her chest and a half-empty wine glass in her hand—this Finn doesn’t feel things easily. Feelings are heavy and feelings hold you back and feelings stick around long after the people who brought them on are gone.

“My parents,” Finn says, “they got divorced when I was five.” 

“Finn, you don’t have to—” 

“It’s fine,” Finn says. The wine is talking now. The wine and the smell of Niall’s shampoo and the plunk plunk plunk of rain hitting the bucket on the kitchen floor. “My dad was sleeping with his secretary. Such a cliche, right? And it took my mom years to leave him. Years. He was sleeping with his secretary while my mom was pregnant with me. She kept thinking he’d stop, that he’d finally realize that he loved her, that he loved his family. She kept waiting, until she couldn’t anymore.” 

Finn feels Niall’s fingers brush against hers where they rest on the rug. “That’s why you don’t believe in love?”

“No.” Finn closes her eyes, her head tilting back against the sofa cushion. “That’s why I don’t let myself feel it.”

“Finn.” 

She doesn’t answer as Niall moves closer. Eyes closed, she can feel him entering her personal space, can feel the heat of his hand as he takes her wine glass, hears the clink of glass on wood as he puts it on the table. Feels his fingers on her cheek as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Finn. Look at me.” 

So she does, opens her eyes and meets his, and it’s too much, it’s all too much, the way he’s looking at her like he can see her feelings, can read them as if they were written across her forehead.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles. “Like what?” 

“Like you like me.” The words are out before she can stop them, slipping from her lips like a sigh. 

“Finn.” He’s closer now, impossibly close, his hand on her cheek. “Finn, I more than like you.” 

“I—” Finn starts, but she doesn’t know what to say. 

She doesn’t know what this feeling is, the one taking over her chest and spreading to her stomach and traveling up her throat all the way to her eyeballs. It’s a headache and nausea at the same time, plus a sense of doom in her stomach, maybe the unconscious realization that this can’t last forever. 

Because feelings never do. Niall likes her now, likes her a lot, likes her enough to maybe kiss her against her dirty car in the parking lot fifty feet from their building. But that won’t last. He’ll like her for a bit and then he’ll like her less and less until nothing remains but the memory of the fire that used to burn, a bit of leftover smoke drifting skyward. 

And that’s when it will hurt. 

This will hurt, Finn thinks, but she jumps anyway. 

“Then kiss me,” she says. 

So he does, and in his kiss, for as long as it lasts, she lets herself feel everything: lets herself feel the sticky heat of summer and the sticky heat of a love so big it sucks you under, leaves you breathless, makes you hold on tight. 

She slides her hand into his hair and thinks, I will hold on tight. 

When it’s over, Niall pulls back, leans his forehead on hers. He’s breathing heavy when he says, “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.” 

“I want to do it again,” Finn says. She slides her fingers under the collar of his shirt. 

Niall’s hand tightens on her waist. “Is that the wine talking?” 

Finn shakes her head. “No,” she says. “It’s me. And I more than like you, too.” 

Niall grins, bright and beautiful. “Good,” he says. “You’re my perfect summer.” 

He leans in to kiss her again, and Finn decides, in that split second before their lips meet, that even if all she gets with Niall is a summer, it will be beautiful and it will be perfect, the stuff of novels. The stuff of her novels. 

But, something in her gut tells her, Niall will be around for more than a summer.

He does live right downstairs, after all.

[nillegible]

Hidden in the leaves

This is my gift-fic for @withyourrhythm, for the 2020 MadaTobi Gift Exchange (@madatobigiftexchange)

Withyourrhythm, I really hope that you enjoy this fic! You asked for:

My first prompt would be AUs! Maybe something like coffee shop AU, florist/tattoo artist AU, or even a zombie apocalypse AU. Second is dystopia, and the third one is sniper!Tobirama

This isn’t quite a florist AU, but Tobirama helps run Hashirama’s plant nursery? I hope that it’s close enough to what you wanted! I’ll confess I really couldn’t pick just one thing to write; I was 3-4k deep in a Red, White, and Royal Blue AU at the beginning of January, before the continuous news about the primaries and the election basically destroyed all my will to continue with that. (That’s why I asked about the modern royalty AU. Sorry about that!)

So… here it is! I really hope that you’ll like it!

“Hello, can I help you?” asks Tobirama, setting down his tablet when he hears the wind chimes tinkle. Hashirama had set them up above the door in place of a doorbell. Only then does he catch sight of the two customers who have entered the store; a handsome young man, maybe a little older than Tobirama with a wealth of dark hair, and a tiny boy with equally messy hair, maybe six years years old.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to say,” says the kid looking up at him with large dark eyes, and a pinched expression on his face.

“I’m sorry?” asks Tobirama, glancing at the other man who looks a little embarrassed.

“Kagami, that’s impolite Mr.-” the customer’s quick glance at Tobirama’s nametag doesn’t really help since it’s an artsy embroidered thing without his last name on it, but he perseveres - “Tobirama can welcome us however he likes. I’m very sorry, I’m Uchiha Madara, we visited last week, and the person working had a different greeting.”

“Senju Tobirama, you must have met one of the others,” says Tobirama, realizing now what the kid was talking about. There’s no way Tobirama is going to repeat the same cutesy spiel, ‘Hello, welcome to The Senju Plant Nursery and Interior Landscaping Solutions, which of our lovely plants would you like to adopt today?’ that Harshirama asked his employees to use on every unsuspecting customer to cross into their shop. The kid is still staring at him like Tobirama has done something unacceptable though, so Tobirama tries, “So you would like to…adopt a plant?”

The kid instantly grins widely, “YES! Uncle said I could, I asked all week and I read two books about plants from the library, and I get to build a terrarium, and I can choose what to put inside it!” he says, without stopping for breath.

Tobirama can’t help it, his lips twitch into a smile at the genuine enthusiasm. “That sounds wonderful! Are you only looking for the plants to go in, or are you looking for a tank, lighting, gravel, and moss as well?” he directs the question to Kagami, seeing how excited he is, but the kid looks up at his uncle.

“Uncle?”

“Do you have all of those things?” asks Madara. “If so that would definitely save us a few more stops.”

“We do,” says Tobirama, coming out from behind the counter. The shop’s layout was odd, most likely because it had been a row of smaller stores once, before his brother had bought the whole lot and knocked down only some of the walls. It meant that from the entrance the store looked far smaller than it really was. “Come this way,” he says, leading them out of the first section (indoor plants that were fine with dim lighting, through the outdoor plants and pots section that opened into the actual outdoors behind the store where the hardier half of their inventory was, and into the third part of the store that had the components for setting up terrariums or aquariums. Starting with a correctly sized tank made the most sense, after all.

“Oh there are fish!” says Kagami, once there. They don’t stock quite as many fish as an aquarium or pet shop would, but they have enough small ponds and pond-plants that they prefer to have some small goldfish, koi, and other pond fish in stock. “Can I get a fish for my terrarium? Please?”

“Do fish belong in terrariums?” asks Madara.

“We could make a tiny little pond inside, and then we can get lots of tiny little fish to go in the pond!”

“That would be far too little water, you’d need at least twenty gallons of water for most fish to be comfortable, and they’d be happier with more. You’d need a full aquarium, not part of a terrarium,” says Tobirama, hoping the kid isn’t going to be throwing a tantrum over this.

However, Kagami just clutches his uncle’s leg and looks up at Tobirama, “They really won’t fit? Even the small ones?” he asks eyes wide.

“We all fit inside closets, but we wouldn’t like to live there, right?” asks Tobirama. Madara’s lips definitely quirk at that, and Tobirama can’t glare at him (or rephrase his statement to be less embarrassing) because large dark eyes are regarding him very carefully.

“No, that would be bad,” the kid decides sadly, then gives the goldfish another longing look.

Madara pats him on the head, “Come on, I see the tanks. We’re here to adopt a plant, remember? Don’t get distracted,” and he gently guides his nephew toward the display of glass tanks and bowls. Tobirama hovers in the background, listening as Madara carefully talks Kagami down from a rectangular twenty-gallon tank to an eight-gallon bowl, by pointing out that they could keep it on that table near the window, wouldn’t that be nice?

Some faint tinkling alerts Tobirama to another visitor, and he tells the Uchiha that he’ll be back momentarily, and hurries back to the front. He hopes Yamato would return soon, it’s always a bit worrying when he’s left all alone. This customer is far easier to help, she’s looking for a tabletop cactus arrangement, and she picks up one of the smaller ones without much time to deliberate. He packages it up for her, provides a gift bag, processes her purchase, and heads back to his previous customers.

They’ve wandered on to the selection of gravel and marbles now, and Kagami seems insistent that they get an eye-searingly orange gravel. Between the soil and the activated charcoal layers, they’re going to end up with something a little too Halloween-seeming for August, but clearly this isn’t a battle that Madara is going to win.

“It has to be orange,” Kagami says again, after Madara points out that the plants will be green, and their living room is blue. “It just has to.” But he won’t answer when Madara asks why. Giving it up as lost, Madara takes the orange gravel, and Tobirama hands him a basket that already has a package of activated charcoal in it for him to put the gravel into.

“Do you need potting soil as well or do you have that?” asks Tobirama.

“No, we definitely have soil. You mentioned moss?”

“It’s there,” says Tobirama gesturing, so that Madara can pick out one that he finds appropriately colored and priced. “You’ll want enough for a layer between the soil and gravel.”

Madara seems to take two at random, and then turns to Kagami. “Ready to find your plants?”

“Would you like some other decorations, first?” asks Tobirama, pointing out the shelf with different odds and ends, from miniature wells and animals, to packets of miniature paving stones or park benches. Kagami bounces over at once, and Tobirama ignores the guilty twinge at taking advantage of a child to buy more from his shop. They’re running a business here, after all.

“This one!” says Kagami, picking up a medium sized orange stone, with a spiral design on it. Madara lets him add it to the purchases in their basket without complaint.

Helping them select plants doesn’t take nearly as long as Tobirama expected, apparently the child had been entirely serious when he said that he had researched what plants he wanted to get. Kagami earnestly lists out the names of the succulents that he wants – making him a far more serious customer than most adults who just browse and choose whatever they think looks pretty. Tobirama manages to find four of the five plants that they want, but doesn’t have the last one in stock.

“I’m really sorry, we don’t have any more on hand. Do you want to pick something else? I can tell you which plants need the same amount of water as these ones.”

To his horror, Kagami’s face scrunches up at that. “But we need that one.”

“I’m really sorry, you could either pick it up later this week – I’ll order one for you – or I could tell you where the other plant shops are around here so you can check if they have some, but I can’t confirm that they will.

“Kagami, you can pick out a different plant,” says Madara, and the child bursts into tears. Madara, looking distressed, sets down his basket and lifts Kagami into his arms, trying to calm him by patting his back and making soothing noises while Kagami sobs into his shoulder.

“But Uncle, it has to be that one, we need it,” he says.

“Shh, please tell me why, my heart. We’ll find you one if we can, but if you tell me why, I can help you find something else too, right?”

“Because Obito-nii wanted that one,” says the kid, and Tobirama thinks he sees grief flash across Madara’s face.

“Kagami. When did he–?”

“He said it was pretty when I showed him the book, and he liked it, he said so,” he says, and Madara shuts his eyes for a long moment, before he continues to soothe the child.

“We’ll get some, we’ll ask Mr. Senju to order one for us, and we’ll leave space for it in our terrarium, and we’ll add it when they get here, is that alright?”

It takes some time for Kagami to calm, but the promise seems to help. He finally agrees with a soft, “Okay.”

Tobirama is about to get the box of tissues he keeps behind his desk, but Madara’s pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his nephew’s face. Kagami doesn’t let go of him though, and Madara doesn’t seem about o let him down. He shifts his Nephew, then picks up the basket to place on the counter. Tobirama processes the purchases silently, not wanting to further stress Madara out. It’s like the happy pair that had walked into his store had completely vanished; Kagami doesn’t emerge from where he’s hiding his face in Madara’s neck and Madara’s handsome features have gone cold and tired.

He’s not really sure what’s up, but he kind of wishes he could help.

Wait, he can help. “If you leave me an address, I could have one delivered in a few hours,” he says, before he can think it through.

“You… really?” asks Madara. Which makes sense, Tobirama had just told him it would take a few days.

“I’ll find you one,” he says, instead of backtracking. After all, Hashirama has a large personal collection at home and he’s sure his brother wouldn’t mind if he took one. He can replace it later this week when the next shipment comes in. Kagami finally lifts his head up to look at him, and Tobirama asks, “Do you know what size you want it to be? I can’t confirm I’ll get the exact size, but I can get you something close.”

“Like this one,” he says, pointing at one of their purchases, maybe 5 inches tall.

“I can do that,” says Tobirama, relieved. He’s definitely seen that size.

“Thank you,” says Madara a bit more intensely than Tobirama thinks is actually warranted in this case, and then he lets his nephew slide down. “You’re going to have to help carry things out to the car,” he says, and Kagami nods seriously.

Madara pays and leaves his address, and Tobirama watches them leave, the soft tinkle of the doorbell ringing for s few moments after they leave.

Yamato and Kawarama should turn up for their shift at twelve, Tobirama would make the delivery after that.

Tobirama should have remembered that every person in his life is an insufferable busy body, because before the week is out, he greatly regrets the random moment of generosity that led him to help Uchiha Madara and his nephew out. He’d told his brother that he was appropriating one of his succulents, and Hashirama had been fine with that. But then he’d also told Mito, who’d found it odd and mentioned it to Touka, and it spread from there and he’d been listening to sly comments all week.

“So, everyone’s curious: was he pretty?” asks Itama the moment Tobirama picks up his phone, and Tobirama resists the urge to just hang up on Itama.

“I see you’re free enough to join in the absurdity. Assignments just not hard enough for you?” he snaps.

“Wow you’re touchy,” says Itama with a faint note of surprise. Which, fair. This was the first time Itama had mentioned it, so it wasn’t frustration at him that Tobirama was reacting to.

“I’m sorry,” says Tobirama. “They’ve been at it all week, I’m tired of it.”

“Sorry to add to it, then,” says Itama. “I just… Never mind. So how has work been?”

“Never mind what?” he asks, instead of accepting the change in conversation.

“It’s just not the sort of thing you do. You’ve yelled at Hashirama for much less,” says Itama quietly.

Right, the whole: They’re your customers, not friends, brother, don’t be ridiculous, speech that he’d perfected when helping Hashirama find his feet with his new business and his brother treated every single one of them like a friend.

Tobirama’s not sure how to explain… Madara had looked pained, over the lack of a simple plant that they usually sold by the dozens. He’d wanted to help. “Well, I’ve learned my lesson,” he says lightly. “And my week has been well, I’ve completed the renderings for that old age home I was working on, and aside from my two current projects I’ve started discussions with a potential client with a potential client who wants to surround his mc-mansion with tropical trees and put in a hedge maze with a heated pool in the middle,” he says, making Itama giggle. He’ll probably turn the last project down, the client had very bizarre tastes, Tobirama would hate to be associated with the final product. “How was your week?” he asks.

“Well, we’re considering arranging a game of Humans vs Zombies that goes on until Halloween or the last human dies…”

Tobirama settles in to listen to Itama, wishing once again that his younger brother had decided to go to a closer school for his undergrad. He misses having his most sensible sibling around.

His family tires of the subject soon, which is good because Tobirama doesn’t see Madara again for more than a month.

“Good afternoon,” says a familiar voice, speaking over the tinkling of the chimes over the door.

“Hello again,” says Tobirama, giving Madara a small smile. “How can I help you today?”

“I hear that that’s not what you’re supposed to say,” Madara says, grinning, and Tobirama rolls his eyes.

“You’re not nearly cute enough to pull that off,” Tobirama tells him, then blinks as he realizes what he just said. “What can I help you with?” he asks quickly, hoping Madara would let it slide.

Madara pauses, then says “I need a selection of seeds, and some starting trays.”

“It’s far too early, you should start in January or February depending on the species,” he says, but sets his tablet down and comes around the counter anyway.

“That’s not what I need them for, it’s for a science fair project.”

“I see,” says Tobirama, gesturing Madara to follow.

“Are you the kind of person who’ll be upset if I confess that most of these plants are probably going to die in the name of science?” asks Madara as he references a list and grabs the corresponding seed packets.

Tobirama laughs. “No, I’m not. And a science project is a worthy enough cause.”

“I’m not the one working at a place that gives plants up for adoption,” says Madara smiling. He holds up three varieties of cucumber seeds. “Which of these would you suggest?”

“Usually people ask which are the best for pickles,” says Tobirama, considering the three packets. “It really depends on what you need them for? The Dasher and General Lee are really sturdy species, so if you want something a little more sensitive, go with the Wisconsin SMR58? But if you would like them to last, either of the first two would be fine.”

Madara considers and then takes one each of General Lee and the Wisconsin SMR58. He’s amassed quite a selection, and Tobirama can’t help but be curious.

“What is the science fair project on?” he asks.

“They’re looking at how the wavelength of light corresponds to plant growth,” says Madara.

“That seems pretty advanced for a first grader,” says Tobirama. Not that it’s any of his business, and Kagami had seemed like an intelligent child, but that’s not a project for someone that young.

“Oh no, it’s not for Kagami. This is for my ten-year-old, Shisui. He wanted to come with me but he has so many after school practices, and Mondays are my only reliable days off, so I made him give me a list of the things that he needs.” He meets Tobirama’s eyes, and he nods in understanding. “I just need two 1020 trays, and then I’m done.”

“Over there,” says Tobirama, and then leads the way back to the register.

“Oh, you’re hiring?” asks Madara, stopping halfway with his card out. Tobirama glances at the sign behind him on the bulletin board, which says they’re looking for new full or part-time workers.

“We’re always hiring. My brother likes to hire from the local high-school but the kids are always graduating and leaving, or getting detention or they have tests coming up and beg off, so we’re always short on staff.”

“So you take the school-time shifts? Oh, sorry - ” he says, and finally hands over his card.

“I take a lot of the morning shifts. It doesn’t make much difference to me if I work here manning the register or from my office at home,” he says, gesturing at his tablet. “When I’m busy, Hashirama or Yamato will take them.” He finishes up and passes the card back, and slips Madara’s seed packets into a paper bag and hands it over.

“Do you know someone who’d like a job?” he asks. I could put in a good word for them to my brother.

“I’m not sure, I’ll check with him first,” says Madara.

“Well, you know where we are, but this is my brother’s number if you want to pass it on,” says Tobirama, handing over a card that he keeps behind the counter.

“Could you give me your number too? I might have some questions,” says Madara, and Tobirama scrawls his own number on the back of the card.

“Thank you,” says Madara. “I’ll text you if he’s interested. Have a nice day, Tobirama!”

“You too,” says Tobirama, and after giving him another smile, Madara leaves.

Tobirama sits back down in his chair, but doesn’t go back to work for several minutes, trying to decide if that had been an excuse to get his number, or if Madara really did only want to pass on a potential employment opportunity to someone that he knows.

If he’s being honest with himself, he kind of hopes that it’s both.

He gets the first text about a week later:

senju tobirama? hi, this is uchiha madara. I’ve spoken to my nephew’s therapist and she thinks getting a part time job now is a good idea. I just wanted to ask you a few things before I ask my nephew if he’d be interested.

Hello, sure. What would you like to know? (I’m assuming this is a different nephew)

oh yes, I have three. Obito was in an accident a few months ago, he’s only recently gotten out of hospital. we’ve decided to home-school him this year, but there’s only so much time that a teenager can stand being home alone, and he’s always liked plants… I was hoping if he had something to do that made him feel useful he would cheer up a little?

That sounds like a great idea. What specifics do you need to know? I can ask Hashirama for you.

It takes longer than Tobirama expects, so he nudges him a little with an extra text.

Madara?

the accident. it left Obito with very visible, significant scars. some people find it disgusting, and I know you’re running a business, and if you’d rather that your customers not have to deal with that, then it’s fine. but I’d rather know now than have him be rejected for that alone when he turns up to meet your brother. that’s the most important thing. besides that, his shifts may need to a bit flexible, he has a lot of physiotherapy appointments to get through for a while.

It won’t matter. And all our employees get flexible shifts.

You should probably ask your brother?

Trust me, it won’t matter.

There’s a long gap again before Madara replies. When he does, it’s quite short:

Thank you.

It feels wrong, to be thanked for basic human courtesy, so Tobirama doesn’t answer. Instead, he goes to find Hashirama.

Obito turns up for an interview the following week, and Tobirama hangs around even though both Yamato and Hashirama are on shift and he doesn’t have to be there. He’s glad for it, because his brother comes out from the office with a hand on Obito’s shoulder, looking extremely cheerful. “You just said he was good with plants, not that he grows vegetables for several families and makes his own organic fertilizer!”

“I take it he’s hired, then?” asks Tobirama.

“Oh yes! Of course!” says Hashirama.

Tobirama glances at Obito again, the right side of his face is badly disfigured but he can see a faint blush on his left cheek. “Welcome,” says Tobirama. “I hope you’ll like working here.

“Me too!” says the boy, and though it’s a little quiet, Tobirama has the feeling that this boy is actually a lot like Hashirama and Kawarama (loud, passionate and enthusiastic). He’ll settle in soon enough.

After Obito leaves, Hashirama leans over the counter and continues talking about the things that Obito apparently does in his home garden. Tobirama feels no shame at all in ignoring his brother’s enthusiastic gushing to text Madara.

Hashirama adores him. He hasn’t shut up about vermicomposting and coffee-grounds fertilizer and youths who believe in the sanctity of the environment since your nephew left.

The reply is almost instant this time.

thank you, Tobirama.

I didn’t do anything. He’s a lovely young man, and my brother may be idiotic at times but he would never send away someone who loves gardening as much as he does.

just accept the thanks, Senju

Accepted, then.

 Having Obito at the store quickly becomes routine. Obito talks a lot more than Yamato did when Tobirama was paired up with him for shifts, but he doesn’t mind if Tobirama listens while he sketches and is suitably impressed by some of Tobirama’s designs, so he doesn’t have any complaints about the young Uchiha.

(Obito also comes with a lot more stories about Madara. There are also stories about his younger brothers Shisui and Kagami, and his best friends Kakashi and Rin, but after filtering them out Tobirama has learned quite a lot about the young uncle who had taken the three of them in when their parents died, and who was of all things an Elementary School art teacher and a Martial Arts instructor, which was why he had such strange work hours.)

If Tobirama always made sure that he was working on Mondays, the day when Madara took advantage of his day off to either drop Obito off or pick him up, solely because Madara usually comes inside to talk for a few minutes, well. No one had seemed to catch on quite yet.

And then Itama comes home for the winter holidays, and while Tobirama is very happy to have him back, his little brother watches with his too sharp, all-seeing gaze when he says goodbye to Obito and Madara when they leave after one of Obito’s shifts. Once they’re gone, Itama raises a single eyebrow at him.

Tobirama gives him a level look, trying to project how much he does not want to be interrogated on the subject.

“Does that mean you’re not going to ask him out?” Itama asks.

“We’re just friends.”

“Yes,” says Itama slowly. “Because you haven’t asked him out yet.”

“I’m not going to,” says Tobirama firmly. He definitely liked Madara, he’d though the man was pretty gorgeous the very first time he’d seen him, but he’s decided to suppress that. Because reducing Madara to just a hot guy is almost offensive – he’s so much more than that. Kind, and generous, and he watches over his family with the sort of single-minded focus that Tobirama respects deeply.

In just three months, a few exchanged texts had grown into longer conversations and sometimes phone calls. He’d been invited along to see Shisui’s exhibit at the Science Fair, and invited along on one of Madara’s extremely rare Saturdays off to a Botanical garden for Obito’s birthday. Tobirama had had a pretty faithful shadow that day in Shisui who in spite of being Obito’s younger brother had still listened with great attention when Tobirama tossed out plant and insect facts, and then criticized the design of some of the walkways and arbors.

Tobirama likes them. All of them. He isn’t going to ruin what he has.

“I only told Touka and Mito to leave you alone until Christmas,” says Itama.

“You what.” says Tobirama flatly.

His brother shrugs. “They were really bothering you, remember? So I told them to lay off while you get your head together. But I didn’t think it would take you this long to make a move.”

“I am not going to make a move,” says Tobirama.

“Why? You really seem to like him! Do you even know how much you talk about him or his kids?”

“Please just drop it,” says Tobirama.

Itama stares at him a moment longer then exhales loudly. “Fine. There’s still a week. I’m not saving you from Mito and Toka again.”

“I can deal with them, you didn’t have to protect me the first time,” says Tobirama.  

“Really? Their pointed questioning wouldn’t have embarrassed you enough to push the Uchiha away to save yourself the trouble?”

His brother has a point. While both women would absolutely throw down in his defence if anyone else was bothering him, the knowing looks and the witty comments would have made him much more self-conscious when actually speaking to Madara. He might not have even tried to work toward a friendship. And that would have been sad. He makes a note to get Itama something nice before he has to leave.

A few days later, he has a new customer, but he looks so much like Madara and Shisui that Tobirama knows he has to be the often mentioned but never seen younger uncle who’s usually away at university. “Hello, is there something that I can help you with?”

“Uchiha Izuna, nice to meet you,” he says, “I just wanted to see the place that my nephew has been working at, and maybe pick up a few poinsettia plants?”

“You don’t want Poinsettia, Obito doesn’t really like them,” says Tobirama before he realizes that’s not quite polite. “Um, I mean. If you wanted to get them for him?” Strangely, Izuna doesn’t look offended.

“No, you’re right. Obito doesn’t like them, he says so every year.”

“So these are for someone else?” asks Tobirama. He gestures toward the stand with an array of potted poinsettia plants. “You can choose what you like, it’s a bit late in the season so these are all that we have left.”

“What should I get my nephew instead? I missed his birthday this year, so I was hoping to get him something special for Christmas.”

“Well, he said he needs new gardening gloves, but that’s not really an apology present, is it? He wanted that new video game – Outer Wilds. He wanted to have an excuse to invite his friends over more often since he doesn’t see them at school anymore.”

Izuna nods thoughtfully. “The other two?”

“Madara is getting Shisui a microscope. Maybe a set of prepared slides to match? Or a telescope. He likes insects but I don’t think he’d really want a preservation kit, he’s not the type. I don’t think you could go wrong with getting him a book, either.”

“Hm. And Kagami?”

“Definitely a book,” he says. In fact, there’s a book on aquatic sea creatures that Tobirama has already bought for him; he’s seen the way Kagami always runs to see the aquariums for a few minutes whenever he visits the store. “Do you want me to suggest some titles?” he asks, when Izuna just continues to stare at him strangely.

He seems to be hiding amusement. Tobirama does not understand why he’s amused.

“That will do,” he says. “Those are excellent suggestions. Thank you for the help,” he says. ”I guess I’ll see you around sometime, I’m staying until after the new year.”

“So, you don’t actually need to buy anything?” Tobirama asks just to confirm.

“Not right now, sorry. Poinsettias were a silly idea.”

“Oh, Izuna! Back again?” asks Yamato, coming back from where he had been arranging a shipment of gardening tools.

“Ah, yes! Still can’t decide what I want to get though. I’ll be leaving now. Bye! Bye, Tobirama!” says Izuna, and makes a speedy exit.

“Well that was interesting,” says Tobirama, though he can’t quite keep himself from smiling. “How many times has he come over?”

“Three times,” says Yamato. “He seemed desperate not to ask when you’d be around in case one of us told Obito that his uncle was being weird. Did Hashirama tell you when the seed-starter order will get here? We’re really running low.

“I’ll check,” Tobirama assures him.

That night, after dinner, Tobirama is in his room finishing up a layout for a client, when he gets a text from Madara.

did my brother come to see you today??

Yes, he did. He was looking for a gift for Obito, but didn’t buy anything in the end. I told him to buy him a video game instead and sent him away. Not the best business decision, but your brother said it was partly an apology so I had to help.

Did he say anything?

He asked me what he should get Shisui and Kagami as well.

And nothing else?

No, he didn’t say anything else.

Tobirama stares at the message for a few moments after that. Tobirama has had a lot of experience with how younger brothers teased, which meant Izuna had been teasing Madara about… potentially revealing something embarrassing to Tobirama? That made it sound like… like Madara did care about him? No one really cased out their nephew’s workplace by just quizzing the person at the register, and Yamato had let him know that Izuna had come to the store a couple of times, clearly looking for Tobirama even if he didn’t admit it, so it had to be… Tobirama holds closely to the fluttering hope that this gave him, and types out:

Madara, when you’re free, would you join me for coffee?

I’d like to talk, can we meet up?

Madara, don’t be offended but I’d like to ask if we could

He deletes every message instead if sending it. What if Madara assumes that he’s only asking him out because Izuna said something, and not because Tobirama really wanted to ask? He should probably wait a little, right?

He gets a call from Madara a few minutes later.

“Hello,” says Tobirama, picking up.

“What did he do? He looked suspicious and embarrassed when he got home.”

“Yamato spilled that he came to the store multiple times trying to catch me on shift, and he fled,” says Tobirama.

“That… sounds like my brother. I’m sorry, that was really rude –” he sounds exasperated.

“No no, it’s fine. He was really kind of cute!” says Tobirama.

“He. He was?” asks Madara.

“Yeah. He was definitely flustered, all but bolted once Yamato saw him. Don’t worry about it, I’m not angry with him. It was quite nice meeting him, really.” Tobirama tries to force some reassurance into his voice, because Madara sounds a little…stiff.

“That’s good. That’s really… good. I’ll talk to you later? I just wanted to make sure he hadn’t offended.”

“It’s all fine. Bye, Madara.”

“Bye.”

There was something wrong with that conversation, Tobirama just knew it. He’d expected Madara to laugh about his brother’s ill-conceived but well-meaning plot to make sure Tobirama was a decent person. But Madara hadn’t laughed.

Why not?

When he finally realizes what he had just implied during that short conversation, he wants to slap himself in the face. Stupid. So so stupid. Leaving his room, he heads straight for his brother’s, glad that Itama’s staying with him now that Hashirama’s house needed a nursery. He knocks on the door.

“Come in,” says Itama.

“Itama,” he says, but isn’t sure how to explain.

“What happened?” asks his brother.

“Madara called me.”

“And? What did he say?” Itama actually looks… strangely angry?

“What?” asks Tobirama.

“If you asked him out and he turned you down then he’s an idiot who doesn’t deserve you,” says Itama. “But I really thought – ”

“No, listen.” Why is everyone jumping to conclusions today? “Madara called me, because Izuna came to see me at the store today. It seemed like he was checking to see if I was a creep? So I thought maybe Madara was interested?” Itama nods encouragingly.

“And when he called I… I sort of told him that Izuna is really cute and I was glad I’d run into him.”

Itama looks pained. “Tobirama-nii, why.”

“That’s not what I meant! I didn’t even realize until after, when I was trying to figure out why he sounded so depressed. I was glad to meet him, but not because I like him, it’s because.” it gave me a tangible proof that Madara might like me back.

“So what are you going to do?” asks Itama.

“I’ll speak to him tomorrow,” says Tobirama. “I’ll ask him out properly.”

Itama is looking down at his desk, and he taps his finger a few times like he’s thinking something through. “No,” he says finally.

“No?”

“You should go now.”

“It’s late,” says Tobirama. “He has kids so he sleeps early! And we’re adults, not teenagers from a Hallmark channel romance movie, we can wait until the morning.”

“Don’t be stupid, Tobi-nii,” says Itama. “He really likes you. He’s probably hurt.”

Right. Madara had sounded a little hurt.

Tobirama hates that he’d done that, even unintentionally.

Right then, he’s apparently doing this.

(He grabs his potted lavender plant on the way out, and Itama says, “You absolute dork.” Tobirama ignores him.)

He’s even more nervous this time than he was the first time that he’d been standing on this doorstep. Steeling himself, he knocks on Madara’s door. That time he had been hand-delivering a succulent he’d appropriated (with permission) from his brother’s private collection to a complete stranger, and it had still been easier. He knocks again, he doesn’t want to ring the doorbell, because he knows Kagami should be asleep already.

This time it’s not Madara who opens the door, but Izuna.

“What do you want, it’s late,” says Izuna, keeping his voice down.

“I need to talk to your brother! I don’t think you’re cute!” says Tobirama. Ah, that wasn’t quite what he meant to say. “I mean-”

“Oh, thank god,” says Izuna instead of getting offended. “Come inside. He’s in the living room.”

Izuna lets him walk in ahead, to close up behind him, and Tobirama enters the room to see Madara on the couch, Obito curled up with a book in the armchair beside him.

Madara looks at him, eyes wide, then glances at the herb in his hands. “Hi, Madara, Obito” says Tobirama. And then Obito bursts out laughing.

It stings.

Maybe he shouldn’t have come here, with literally an offering of love, maybe Madara might not know what Lavender stands for but Obito, who cons every teenager who steps into their store to buy a pot of the herb definitely knows what’s up. (“Roses? Bouquets? They all die. Lavender is the true symbol of everlasting love and devotion,” he says to each one of them, eyes shining and they fall for it hook-line-and-sinker).

Tobirama involuntarily steps back, eyes on the ground so he doesn’t have to see their faces and tries to come up with something to say. He should confess anyway, even if Madara doesn’t reciprocate, but he’d rather not do it on front of Obito.

“No, no, no! I’m sorry! I’ll leave, you guys should talk!” says Obito, and suddenly the teenager is right next to him, gripping Tobirama’s arm with his scarred right hand. “I wasn’t laughing at you, I am so sorry. But I’ll go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, Tobirama-nii.” And then he’s running away, Tobirama can hear him thunder up the stairs.

Tobirama glances at Madara who’s also standing up now.

“You brought me lavender?” he says.

“I did. On the phone, you misunderstood. It’s not Izuna that I like. I wanted to call you back, but maybe this is better done in person, so I thought- So I came,” he says. The small but unbearably radiant smile that unfurls on Madara’s face clears away the lingering doubt.

“Thank you,” says Madara, taking the pot from him carefully and setting it on the small table, and then takes both of Tobirama’s hands in his. “Tobirama, I love you too, and I would very much like if we could go out officially,” says Madara.

“Yes, we should,” says Tobirama. “I’d really like that.” He hadn’t really called it love yet but Madara’s not wrong. Even though they’ve known each other for so little time there’s something about the other man that makes Tobirama think there could never be anyone else who had the potential to fit into his life the way Madara does. The way Madara’s family does. “I really like your nephews. I haven’t decided about your brother,” he says.

“I’m hurt,” says Izuna from behind, and Madara glares over Tobirama’s shoulder.

“Go away!”

“Fine! But this is so unfair, I was cute not two hours ago, and now I’m not even tolerable,” he complains, and they wait while Izuna makes his way up the stairs so they have some privacy.

“My nephews like you too,” says Madara. “As does my brother, he was quite complimentary earlier.”

“Is Obito okay with it? He seemed…” odd. Tobirama cuts himself instead of voicing the tactless word that comes to mind.

Strangely, it makes Madara chuckle. “He was laughing about the lavender, not at you,” says Madara.

“I don’t understand,” Tobirama says, and Madara takes his hand and leads him towards the downstairs office that the kids used for homework. All along the large window, in different sizes, are lavender plants. Seven of them.

“I’ve been trying to confess for a while,” says Madara, squeezing Tobirama’s hand.

“I’ll take them back with me,” says Tobirama, and Madara carefully brings up one hand to Tobirama’s cheek. Tobirama’s never been this close to Madara before. He’s just as beautiful close up.

“You don’t have to take them home. I can keep them for you. You could move in,” says Madara. He looks so very very hopeful.

Tobirama can’t resist, doesn’t have to resist, he leans closer for a kiss and Madara meets him halfway, and it’s soft and gentle and perfect. When they finally pull away, Tobirama looks at Madara’s radiant face and decides he needs another one. He catches Madara’s lips again.

“I’m not moving in with you now,” Tobirama says, when he’s caught his breath after two kisses. He can feel his cheeks stretch with an uncontainable smile; the offer alone is enough to make him feel giddy with joy, but he can’t accept it yet.

“Too soon?” asks Madara. He doesn’t sound upset.

“It’s too soon,” he agrees.

“I can wait,” says Madara.

“Mm. And you haven’t met my family properly yet,” says Tobirama.

Madara tilts his head a little to the side. “I know Hashirama and Kawarama. I don’t think they dislike me? And I met Itama this week. He seemed nice.”

Itama? Nice? There’s only one person who can get both Mito and Touka to do what he wants, and that’s his little brother. Itama is not nice, that’s just what he prefers to let people think about him. How on earth is he supposed to break this to Madara?

“Itama does seem to like you,” he starts. This would be Madara’s saving grace. “But Mito and Touka haven’t met you yet. They, and Kawarama, have sworn to leave you alone until the 25th. After that…” he trails off. “I think Hashirama really does like you, though,” he says, hoping it’s consolation.

“Leave me alone?”

“They didn’t want to scare you off too soon,” says Tobirama. Madara presses a kiss to Tobirama’s nose, then his cheek, then tilts his head up by the chin for another kiss.

“No one’s scaring me away from you,” he says firmly.

“I will hold you to that,” says Tobirama. He really will, too.

“Please do,” says Madara.

[lovelylogans]

mountains i raise

But the mountains I raise Elude my embrace, Flowing over my arms And into my face.

-gathering leaves, robert frost

ao3 | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: food mentions, that’s about it

pairings: analogical, royality

words: 865

notes: so, this is for the 13 days of halloween prompt over at @sanderssidescelebrations​! today’s prompt is jumping in leaves!

For the millionth time today, Virgil scowls down at his feet and moves to scrape the mud off the bottom of his boots.

Considering his primary tool is a rake, his rate of success really depends on what angle he manages to contort himself in order to use the edge of it without overbalancing and collapsing into the mud.

“We really should have waited until it got a bit drier,” Virgil comments for the million-and-first time today.

“We really should have waited until it got a bit drier,” Virgil comments for the million-and-first time today.

Logan directs a glance toward him, squinting a little, as he's polishing his glasses on the sleeve of a sweater that went mysteriously missing from Virgil's laundry last week.

"We said we'd tidy up the lawn a bit before Roman and Patton came over," he said mildly. "They're coming over this afternoon. Therefore—"

"Roman and Patton won't care," Virgil tries not to whine. "Roman would probably want artsy pictures of the lawn and Patton would want to crunch leaves with you."

"I don't crunch leaves," Logan says petulantly.

"Yeah, okay," Virgil says, attempting to shake the mud off his rake. "You nearly knocked me into the road on our first date because you saw a prime, untouched maple leaf just ripe for the pouncing."

Virgil's husband—widely seen as a no-nonsense, highly respected professor with a doctorate—sticks out his tongue. Virgil sticks his out right back.

"It's polite to have a tidy home when guests come over," Logan continues.

"One, Patton's your brother and he won't care," Virgil says. "Two, you've seen Roman's disaster of an apartment, he’d have no room to talk."

Logan mutters something along the lines of "Roman being rude shocks no one," and Virgil fondly rolls his eyes before he stomps over to the next section of their backyard that's still scattered with leaves, like a semi-punctual, untidy rug.

Considering that their backyard fringes on the edge of a forest, there’s really only so much leaf raking they can do before it turns into really absurd levels of persnickety. There’s already several piles that nearly come up to Virgil’s waist, and they’re about three-quarters of the way through the lawn.

Virgil cracks his knuckles, and spares a glance for Logan, who’s already back at raking the leaves, frowning at his pile, then tilting his head thoughtfully at the surrounding area of mostly-cleared grass. Virgil stifles his grin and turns back to his section of lawn.

They fall into a pleasant rhythm. It is kind of soothing, really, doing something that has such a visibly noticeable result—the cleared grass, not quite the vibrant green it had been in the summer, but a vivid enough contrast between the burnished oranges and rusty reds and dusty browns that it’s still pretty to watch, still satisfying to see the neat piles stacked as high as Virgil’s hip, the gradient of colors in each of them.

They’re focused, so much so that the rumbling of a car pulling into their driveway startles him. From the way Logan looks up, mouth opening ever so slightly and then glancing down at his watch and then back at the car, Virgil’s not the only one.

They exchange a look. Virgil shrugs, and Logan sighs, just a little, before they both move to drop off their rakes and see Roman and Patton.

Patton gives his usual long, eager hug of greeting, and Roman and Virgil exchange a nod, and Logan’s about to gesture into the house when Patton makes a happy, high-pitched noise that cuts him off.

“Logan!” He squeals, and leans in to hug his brother tight around the shoulders. “You remembered!”

“Remembered what?” Virgil asks blankly.

Logan’s flushing, just a little, a light enough pink that he’d probably pass it off as a reaction to physical exertion if Virgil teased him about it.

“The leaves!” Patton says brightly. “Oh, my goodness, when we were kids we’d spend forever raking up piles of leaves and then jumping into them and scattering them everywhere, Mom and Dad used to just make it a weekend of leaf-raking because we’d spend the first day jumping into them all the time—”

“Yes,” Logan says. “I did. Are you satisfied with the result?”

“Satisfied?!” Patton laughs, and leans in to hug Logan tight again. “It’s perfect!”

Before Virgil can say wait what, Roman’s grabbing at Patton’s hand.

“Then let’s go!”

Roman and Patton both sprint into the backyard, and Virgil hears the aggressively noisy susurrus of crunchy leaves scattering everywhere.

Virgil bumps hips with Logan. “Like when you were kids, huh?”

“I’d forgotten,” Logan says, studiously blank.

“Uh-huh,” Virgil teases, and grins. “Are you satisfied with the result? really screams forgetfulness.”

Logan flushes an ever deeper shade, apple red, and Virgil kisses him on the cheek.

“Babe, if you wanted to jump into the leaves, you could have just said so.”

“Well,” Logan said. “I am now.”

“Come on, then,” Virgil says, and tugs on his hand, and a grin splits Logan’s face before they both sprint into the backyard, ready to catapult themselves into the piles they’d spent most of the day creating.

They can do it again tomorrow.

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: This isn’t a rom-com (Keanu x OFC) 3/?

Author’s notes: once again, thank you for the feedback on previous chapters. Onto chapter 3.

Wordcount: 2845

Warnings: fluff and oblivious idiots.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 4   Part 5

Lilah bit her thumb as she stared at her phone until Keanu’s name and message on the screen became blurry. She should be reviewing her paper so she could send it to her advisor. Instead, here she was, ignoring her laptop in favor of rereading his text for the tenth time:

I’m glad you like it and I want to know what you thought of it. Coffee today? I’ll be done at five. K.

Lilah didn’t know why she was getting so caught up on it. What else she expected after letting him know she finished reading his book? After all, Keanu had said he would like to get some coffee and talk about it when she was done with it.

And Lilah wanted to do it; she wanted to talk books with him. She wanted to talk about anything with him because he was so nice and cool and funny. But also, he was freaking Keanu Reeves. She was brought back from her musings by a hand snatching her cellphone away before Jean plopped on the chair in front of her.

“You’ve been staring at your phone for the last five minutes,” she said, glancing at the screen, her lips twitching into a smirk. “Ha! I knew he wanted in your pants!”

“One: don’t be crass,” Lilah complained, taking her phone back. “Two: it’s not like that. It’s just coffee.”

Lilah could see that Jean was about to argue, as usual. So, she just sent the other woman a warning look, because this wasn’t up to debate. If Lilah accepted his invitation, she couldn’t think of it as a date.

For one, she was in her final year of grad school. There was a lot at stake and Lilah couldn’t afford distractions. Not even one as amazing as Keanu Reeves. And besides, it would be crazy to think he was even interested. Not that Lilah thought she wasn’t hopeless or anything like that. She did pretty well dating-wise.

She was just being realistic. Keanu probably had people throwing themselves at him all the time and she sure as hell wasn’t going to be one of those people. Despite her stupid no-filter mouth best attempts of making it look otherwise.

“Ok, but you’re gonna go, right? For “just coffee”?” Jean asked, eyebrows raised and Lilah could actually hear the air quotes over the words just coffee.

“Yeah,” Lilah agreed, unlocking her phone screen and typing a quick reply. Her heart did a small acrobatic flip in her chest as she hit send. “There. Done.”

Jean’s face opened into a satisfied, victorious smirk and Lilah couldn’t help but chuckle at her friend.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?” Lilah asked, setting her phone aside and closing her laptop lid. Because who was she kidding? She wasn’t going to get any work done before heading to class. Might as well stop pretending.

“Can’t I just drop by and say hi to my favorite person?” Jean’s smile was wide and bright and so innocent. Lilah didn’t buy it for a second.

“Alright, spill. What do you want?” Lilah asked with an eye-roll.

“Ok,” Jean started with a sigh. “Novelsy isn’t doing all that well financially and if I don’t find a way to attract more customers, I’m gonna have to close doors by the end of the year.”

“Shit!”

Worry settled on the pit of her stomach like lead, because Lilah loved Novelsy. The bookstore was initially owned by Jean’s aunt, but once the older woman passed away, Jean took over, much to her parents’ horror, since they expected her to handle the multimillion family business.

Lilah knew Novelsy started as a way of Jean rebelling against her parents, but it became her pride and dream. The last thing Lilah wanted was to see it closed, but at the same time, Lilah could only imagine how hard must it be for a small place like this to compete with chain stores and internet commerce.

“Any ideas that don’t involve me begging my parents for money?” Jean asked.

“We could start building the store’s media presence? Like a blog, social media, that sort of thing?” Lilah suggested with a shrug. “You’re the one with an MBA.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too,” Jean drummed her nails on the wooden surface of the table. “I guess I can dust off my camera, working on a few pictures, but we’re gonna need some quality content to go along with them…”

“Ah. Ambush,” Lilah joked, narrowing her eyes at Jean, who just gave her a sheepish smile. “You already considered all that and you’re just buttering me up to ask me to write for it, right?”

“Well, you are always going on and on about everything you read and watch. I just thought…” Jean shrugged, before giving Lilah a look that could only be considered puppy dog eyes. “I know you have a lot of stuff going on, but could you? Please? Just like a weekly thing would be enough.”

“Yeah, sure,” she agreed with an indulgent smile. It wasn’t like she would ever be able to deny Jean anything. “Just give some deadlines so I can fit it in my schedule.”

“Perfect! Thank you!” Jean declared, throwing her arms around Lilah for an awkward hug over the table. “You’re the best, Lih.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she rolled her eyes and started to pack her things. “You still need some short term action, you know? Because social media takes time to build.”

“I know and I decided to get some stage so we could have some bands and poetry soirées, you know, all that artsy crap.” Lilah laughed at Jean’s eye-roll, but couldn’t deny it was a good idea.

“Plus, Halloween is coming. You could host a costume contest,” she suggested standing up and shouldering her satchel bag.

“You’re just looking for an excuse to dress up,” Jean teased with a smile. She wasn’t exactly wrong on that assessment.

“Ok. Gotta go! Bye, hon!” She pressed a quick peck on Jean’s cheek.

“One last thing,” Jean called before Lilah moved too far. “You should totally wear that cute green tartan print dress for your date!”

Lilah just rolled her eyes at Jean’s smirking face and took off, because sometimes, arguing with Jean was the most pointless thing.

She stopped by their apartment above the bookstore long enough to put away the stuff she wouldn’t need for class. And after another moment of deliberation, she exchanged her jeans and t-shirt for the dress, pairing it with dark leggings, a black cardigan, and her favorite scarf. Just because it wasn’t a date, didn’t mean Lilah couldn’t look nice.  

She grabbed her bag, Keanu’s book and after a moment of deliberation, Lilah reached on her bookshelf and picked up one of her books. He had lent her one of his. It would be only fair to return the favor, right?

Lilah put on her headphones and hurried off since and she was already dangerously close to missing her train. Fortunately, the subway station was only a couple of blocks away from Novelsy and Lilah always enjoyed the walk. It gave her a chance of enjoying the city had fallen in love with and had been calling home for the last six years.

It had been the best decision of her life to move away from Florida for grad school. Not only it gave Lilah the freedom of being her own person away from her family, but there was also just something magical about New York that she hadn’t found anywhere else. Then again, Lilah barely ever traveled. She had lived most of her life in Florida and could barely remember her home country anymore.

It was one of the things Lilah wanted the most for her life. To travel the world, visit all the places books and movies had shown her. She always wondered what would be like to work with something that could take you all over the world. It must really be amazing.

After teaching her class, Lilah headed to the psychology Ph.D. offices to concentrate on her paper instead of daydreaming about traveling the world or her not-a-date with Keanu. She managed to do all the alterations her advisor suggested and added a new analysis based on an article she read last week, before sending it to her.

Once she finally left NYU, Lilah fidgeted all the way to Central Park, unable to suppress her nerves, even if she kept mentally chanting to herself that this wasn’t a date. When Lilah stepped out the station and found Keanu was waiting for her on the sidewalk, her heart felt like it was trying to bust out of her chest

He looked so handsome in jeans, a grey tee with a motorcycle company logo and a dark leather jacket. He was holding two cups in a carry tray and waving her over with the other. So as Lilah crossed the street, she willed her heart to slow down, because she could barely breathe as she walked up to him.

“Hi!” he greeted her with a bright smile. “I’m glad you could make it in such short notice.”

“It’s fine. My night was free,” Lilah replied, smiling too. It was technically true, but she was supposed to be writing her dissertation.

“I didn’t know how you took your coffee, so I just got it black and brought everything else aside,” Keanu said, handing her one of the cups before pulled out from his pocket packs of sugar, sweetener, and cream.

That was so thoughtful of him that Lilah couldn’t bring herself to admit that she didn’t drink American coffee. Not even Novelsy. Instead, she took one of the cups and dumped cream and sugar in it and took a sip.

“Thank you,” she said covering her grimace, by turning to the park. “Shall we?”

“Sure,” Keanu nodded as they started on the path. “So, tell me your thoughts on the book.”

As they walked, Lilah told him about how she felt with Neruda’s poetry, a big grin playing on her lips. She always thought fall was the best season to take a walk in Central Park. The foliage had faded from their usual green in warm hues of orange, red and purple, making them look straight out of a painting. And under the late afternoon sun, everything sort of had a soft yellowish glow, as if they had been set on fire.

As she spoke, Lilah kept sneaking a few glances at Keanu, always finding him watching her with a thoughtful expression that quickly shifted into a smile whenever he caught her looking.

When they reached the fountain, Keanu led them away from the rest of the visitors and tourists snapping pictures. Lilah wondered if he noticed a few of them snapping photos of him. Fortunately, no one came over to bother them. She wouldn’t know how to react if they had.

Keanu stopped by this huge oak tree and handed Lilah his cup so he could spread his jacket on the ground, before plopping on it and gesturing her to take a seat. She chuckled and followed, handing back the wrong cup.

“You barely touched it,” he pointed out with an arched eyebrow, looking more amused than offended. “You could’ve just told me you didn’t like coffee.”

“I like coffee,” she replied with a sheepish smile. “But that’s not coffee, that American chafé.”

“Sorry, what?” he asked with a confused frown.

“Chafé,” Lilah repeated chuckling at how adorable he looked mouthing out the word. “It just means it watered down and it tastes more like tea than actual coffee.”

“Ahhh, so you’re a coffee snob,” Keanu teased, making Lilah laugh.

“No!” she shoved him playfully on the shoulder, feeling solid muscle under her hand. “Just used to it been brewed differently. My father always says that there are two things you should never argue about with Latinos: telenovela and coffee.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Keanu chuckled, leaning back on his elbows.

“Seriously, I’ll brew it for you sometime and you’ll see.”

The offer escaped her lips before she could even register it and Lilah wanted to kick herself. Why couldn’t she actually pay attention to what she was saying?

“I’ll hold you to it,” he said with a small smile as he watched her. “And I thought I caught a hint of an accent.”

“Really?” she smiled wide at him. “You got a great ear. Most people don’t notice. I’ve moved here when I was three. My stepdad’s American.”

Lilah told him a little bit about her family, mostly just silly stories of her brother, which he reciprocated with stories about his sisters. It was nice and comfortable and time seemed to fly by. Every once in a while, Lilah caught herself staring at him, admiring how the setting sun behind Keanu gave him an almost supernatural glow or how his smile lit up his face and his brown eyes danced with mirth as he recalled some of his teenage shenanigans.

“What?” he asked, bumping his foot again hers.

“Nothing,” Lilah replied with a small smile, lowering her eyes.  

Keanu bumped his foot against hers again and she sneaked a glance his way with a frown, wondering if that was an accident. But then he did it again. And again. Was he playing footsie? She gave him a soft kick in retaliation and Keanu grinned, trapping her foot between his ankles. Lilah laughed, shaking her head.

“You’re such a dork, oh my God!” she commented with a grin, and he chuckled.

“Got you to smile, did I?” he replied with a grin of his own and once again Lilah’s chest felt like was about to burst like several butterflies were trapped inside and trying to scape.

They stayed like that talking and laughing together until the sun set completely and the temperature dropped. Lilah kept rubbing her hands together to keep them warm since she had forgotten her gloves. It helped some, but there wasn’t much she could do about her legs. Her leggings were a flimsy barrier against the cold.

“Do you want to take off?” Keanu offered as he sat up, rubbing his hands together and covering hers, offering his own warmth.

Lilah realized how big his hands were compared to hers. As a matter of fact, Keanu was a very big guy. Not only he was tall, but his broad shoulders and strong frame made him look kind of imposing, but in a good way. She realized he could probably pick her up on his arms very easily and that made her swallow hard and her breath pick up speed.

“No, it’s fine,” Lilah managed to reply after a moment.

She wasn’t ready for this thing to be over just yet, but a gush of wind blew past them again and she couldn’t suppress a shudder, earning a knowing look from Keanu.

“Ok, yes.”

Keanu helped her up and they started to make their way back. Moving usually helped to warm her up a little, but they were walking against the wind and Lilah was shivering.

“Do you want my jacket?” Keanu asked when he noticed.

“Won’t you be cold?” Lilah wondered and Keanu snorted, already unzipping it.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” He held it up so she could put it on.

“Thanks,” she replied, pulling it closer around herself since it was still warm from his body. And if she sneaked a few sniffs at the collar, no one needed to know.

Keanu walked her all the way to the subway station where he had been waiting for her. Lilah handed the jacket back to him and watched as he shrugged on.

“I had fun,” he said with a smile. “I’ve been so focused on this movie, hadn’t been able to go out and just talked about anything except work, so thank you.”

“I know the feeling.” Lilah smiled too and pulled out from her bag his book along with her copy of Life as it is and handing both to him.

“You lent me one, so I thought…” she explained when Keanu gave her a confused look.

“What is it about?” he asked, checking out the blurb on the back cover.

“It’s a collection of short stories, written in the fifties. Rodrigues was really acidic and insightful so they’re really fun,” she said. “If you want to give it a go... we could hang out again and talk about it?” Lilah offered hesitantly.

“Sure,” Keanu replied with a frown and Lilah winced. Did she push too far?

“We don’t have to…” she hurried to say. A second ago Keanu was all smiles and now he almost looked disappointed.

“No, I want to,” he said. “Really.”

“Ok then,” she replied sighing. It wasn’t like she could just grab the book from his hand and run away. “So, give me a call when you’re done?”

“I will. Goodnight.”

After a moment of hesitation, Lilah nodded and headed home, wondering all the way what just happened.

tbc

Go to Part 4

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