#but I’m begging the universe to let my plans work this summer

[thecowboykatsuki-anon]

Really really missing my boy these past few days.

[ch4mpagnedrought]

compensation

[full series]

mdni ! art donaldson

summary: you and art cant help but try and compensate for everything you’re missing out on now that tashi and patrick are together.

ever since tashi had suggested a game of tennis for her number and patrick won, its left you and art to roam around the stanford campus like two little lost puppies, begging for their attention when patrick comes to visit tashi.

patrick has made it impossible to get a hold of the girl, her dorm room always locked and her absence in the daily work-outs the two of you usually have made very obvious. not to mention the betrayal art must be feeling, having his best friend be only in the adjacent building to him, but never coming to actually see him.

you’ve had to find ways to preoccupy yourselves, and stop you from going on an angry rampage, like;

hitting racket to ball in the middle of the court, not even bothering to play a real game. “my prof is making me rewrite my whole assignment this week.” you complain, aiming the ball at the green fencing at the sides and watching it bounce back in art’s direction for your own botched version of squash. he laughs loudly, “who knew you were so bad at everything besides tennis.” you shoot him a scowl and his eyes widen, shoulders shrugging unapologetically as he swings his arm once again.

spring fading into summer means that evenings still have a little light in them, and you fight the urge to lie straight down on the tarmac and look up at the greying sky. the light breeze washes through art’s strawberry blonde hair, swaying it to the side to expose his brows that furrow when you let the ball bounce away between your legs, looking at him with a tense expression. the thought that tashi and patrick were somewhere doing god knows what (you knew what) and completely ignoring you made a reappearance in your head suddenly, and it boiled your blood. “ugh! im gonna kill them!” you huff out, grabbing the ball from the ground and stomping to where you left your stuff. art’s arm finding the both of your shoulders, “ditto that.”

having lunch at the food hall together: waiting in line for the same exact salad that you get every day, curtesy of your game-preparation meal plan and taking a seat on the bar stools that overlook the rest of the campus. stabbing your fork into the frail pieces of lettuce in your plastic bowl, art taking another bite of his churro in silence and licking away all the rouge sugar particles from his lips. “you know, patrick didn’t even bother to call me about his visit.” art says, taking off his red baseball cap just to put it back on his head again. “what a dog.” you scoff, shaking your head and taking a sip of your smoothie that tastes a little grainy from the protein powder. you would’ve continued to rant if you hadn’t spotted tashi and patrick walking hand-in-hand in the distance, all smiles and giggles; it makes you sick. “look.” you point it out to art and he mocks patrick in a high-pitched voice, “hey tashi aren’t i so cool? i play pro and i’m totally not cheating on you.” you chuckle, leaning over to snag a bite of his churro.

and confiding in each other in art’s dorm late at night, when the haunting noises coming from the other side of your wall get too much.

his room is surprisingly so…boyish. a couple posters of tennis stars on the walls that seem so out of place, like he put them there for the sole purpose of taking up space. his medals are hung up on the corner of his wardrobe, tinkering on the edge and there is an unidentified pile of clothing in the corner.

his sheets are a deep maroon colour and you lie flat across them, both of your heads leaning on the single flat pillow he owns, legs crossed. his ceiling has remnants of a water leak the university tried to paint over and you study it from below. “i wonder what they’re doing right now.” art hums, putting his hands behind his head, and letting you rest your head on his bicep.

you shoot up, glancing down at him, one brow lifted and eyes narrow, “i can tell you exactly what they’re doing right now,” you say, scrambling up onto your knees, “’patrick i need your racket right now!’’’ you moan tauntingly, rolling your eyes back and crossing your arms over your chest. art cackles, stomach contracting and grabbing onto your shoulder for support. his hand is pumping warm with blood, hovering over your skin for longer than socially acceptable, and his fingers caressed by the long strands of your curly hair that fall at your sides.

running over to his room meant that you hadn’t had enough time to grab a change of clothes to sleep in, so he graciously lent you one of his t-shirts, a navy one with white embroidered writing that you hadn’t bothered to read, which prods at the aching in his head to see you without it.

“when was the last time you slept with someone?” your question catches art off guard, lying back down next to him and watching the blush creep up onto his cheeks, eyes darting away somewhere to think of an answer. “oh come on, was it that unforgettable?” you laugh. he knew when exactly when the last time was, but the thought that him sleeping with someone had crossed your mind, putting the idea of the two of you together into his own had clouded his head, making it unbearably difficult to think, or speak.

“maybe last month” art estimates when the last time he saw the girl in one of his classes that he casually slept with from time to time, your expression remaining unchanged, which whirls something inside of his stomach. you nod, smile spreading across your lips, and eyes glancing down to art’s partially parted ones. art adjusts himself, propping his head up with his hand and looking down at you, “when was the last time that you slept with someone?”

its unclear to him whether you're joking with your response. “ask me that tomorrow.” it spins his head until he sees double, having to shut his eyes for a second to regain consciousness. your nonchalant smile quite frankly irks him, because you seem so unaware of how he is sliding the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip, preparing just incase you decide that you want to kiss him. or the fact that he moved his leg upwards along the bed to cover his raging boner at just the mere idea of you and him together.

the shirt he lends you rides up on your hips, obviously showing off the black panties that you’re wearing and the neck-line hangs low enough to show the indent of your collarbone that he imagines licking a stripe over.

you thrum, looking up at art through dark eyelashes, “isn’t it so unfair how tashi and patrick can ignore us just to get at each other?”

he got the hint, every crumb you’ve put down he’s followed and scooped up all in one go, sighing out a weak, “yeah” that sounds more like a whine, and leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

the taste of your lip gloss he had missed sweetens his mouth immediately and the faint smell of a chocolatey lotion on your skin sends him into complete overdrive, left hand desperately reaching for the side of your face to take you deeper into him. he sinks himself down, pressing his chest into yours and disconnecting his lips to breathe out a groan at the sensation of your boobs against him like a boy who's never felt them before.

his face is burning hot, lips even hotter as they move simultaneously with yours, covering the perimeter of your mouth with long and drawn out movements to fully get the taste of you hes been dreaming of ever since that hotel room. his hands roam down to the curvature of your waist, taking a strong grip to it to make sure his fingerprints forever remember it, then down to your hips, kneading the flesh.

with him over you, he pulls away from your arms that are wrapped around his neck, pulling the hem of his shirt to unveil your midriff and the black lace that frames your lower waist, your thighs pressed together to catch the heat that he manifests within you, “oh my god.” it might just be the lewdest sight he has ever seen, along with your swollen lips that are glistening with his saliva.

he can barely keep away the moans that try to escape his mouth when he lowers himself down to you, eager lips pressing into your hip, lapping at the surface of your skin with a desperation only art could have, along the hem of your panties, and back up your stomach while your fingers entangle with his blonde locks.

your pulse quickens, exhaling his name out when his finger pulls your underwear to the side, letting the air hit your leaking core, a smile playing at art’s lips. “please, please art.” you moan out, squeezing your eyes shut and letting the sensation of one of his digits swiping through your folds overcome you.

he nibbles at your inner thighs, soft licks soothing the area as one of his fingers slides inside you, while the other gropes at your breast through your shirt. his mind is completely consumed by you, watching every change in your expression with his fingers pumping in and out of you, flush on your face and brows knitting every time he draws back.

your legs instinctively move over his shoulders, trapping him around you to continue the motion and giving him the chance to tilt his head to the side, pressing a kiss to the thigh that is thrown over him. “is this okay?” he asks, caressing a hand down your calf and watching the way your hand reaches out to grab him by the wrist.

“lie down art” you keen, his eyes narrow and he pulls back with a sense of confusion that is overrode with your impatience, ushering him below you. so he does, leaning against the headboard whilst you throw yourself onto his hips, his jaw tilting upwards to unconsciously fulfil the want of his lips devouring the whole of your figure.

the shirt he lent you doesn’t last long, ending up in the pile on his floor and letting him ravish in the sight of your bare torso. he gasps out your name, wandering hands reaching out to massage your breast, flesh filling out the gaps between all five of his fingers. “take this off” you strangle out, gesturing to the shirt he is wearing, disheveled hair falling back into his face that burns hot when you let your eyes roam down to his abdomen. even the weight of your ass pressing into his dick through his shorts is teetering him to climax, hands not knowing where to put themselves when he wants to grab a hold of all of you.

your fingers wrap around the waistband of his shorts that he is wearing, pulling down his boxers at the same time and freeing his erection to slap back onto his stomach, recalling something patrick said about the time he taught art to jerk off. the palm of your hand ghosts his cock, restraining yourself from taking it into your hands there and then, “can i?” even the way you sigh out the question has the hairs on art’s arms standing up and mouth swallowing saliva in anticipation. “yes, yes.” he whines, brows furrowing up at you and all of his muscles tensing.

with a gentle touch, he guides you above him, his hands at your sides as you spread yourself open for him, sinking down only to the tip before he grabs your waist and pauses in the position. he looks like a little helpless, bottom lip between his teeth and an alarmed look in his face that says if you go any further he’ll come right now. “i’ll go slow,” you whisper, a small smirk on your face that’s hard to resist when his shimmering eyes try to find the last slither of dignity within him, “i promise.” you smile reassuringly and he glances away, the flush in his cheeks getting a little deeper.

you keep your promise, slowly lowering yourself down onto him, goosebumps fevering your skin and palms laying flat across his abdomen to steady yourself.

taking him in completely, you whimper out his name and his hands journey to graze your back, up to your shoulder blades where he presses them into you to pull you into him, mouth suctioning down the valley of your breasts. his moans vibrate back into your skin when you pull back up from him, stimulating every single nerve ending in his length like it never has before. you set a pace, slow and steady for art, snapping your hips down onto his in a way that knocks the wind out of you each time, gasping for air. he keeps you close to him, rolling his hips to meet you in the middle and put some of that athlete stamina to use and murmuring your name with every movement.

his finger moves your hair from your shoulder, so he can press soft pecks onto the surface, whilst you clutch the wooden headboard, growing impatient and consequently pounding him into you. his moans purr into your ear, grabbing onto your ass to keep you still as he thrusts himself into you from below and shakily calling out an, “im gonna come.”

you nod, clasping around his biceps and leaning down to nip at his neck, losing composure the more your walls contract around him. you ignore the muscles in your legs that ache and your lungs that can’t seem get a hold of the air that is shared between you to continue to mercilessly plunge him deeper into you until it feels like you’re melting into one another, a shudder sending itself down your bare back and deepening the heat that builds in your core.

art is panting, popping your tit into his mouth one last time before falling still, twitching inside of you and releasing all of his seed into you until it overflows from below. your name echoes out of his mouth, whimpering and whining it out until he can open his eyes back up and centre his vision on you burning every last bit of energy to bounce on his dick.

you lean forward onto him, eyes rolling back into your head when reaching your climax and pressing your burning cheek against his face to feel all of him. he brushes his hand down your back comfortingly, you heaving into the crevice of his neck that glistens with sweat and feeling your walls contract around him the last couple times.

art sighs your name out, pressing his lips into your cheek and letting a smile spread across his face when you brush the dampened hair out of his forehead to get a better view of his eyes.

your body feels limp, falling back down next to him with a post-sex fatigue that follows you all the way into the next morning, where you sit at a table in the food hall, thanking art for bringing you some breakfast and trying to ignore the echoing of all the noises he made last night in your head.

“fuck i really need to work on that assignment today” you groan, taking a bite into a slice of honeydew with your head in the palm of your hand. art watches and nods, a false portrayal of an active listener when what he’s really focusing on is the way your lips curl around the slice, biting off a chunk and closing your lips around it in a way that makes him reminisce that he was right there too only a couple hours ago. “i can help.” he offers, truly from the kindness of his heart that kindly wants to spend the rest of his life looking at you.

“you wish.” you scoff, “i’m not allowed to be alone in a room with you anymore.”

art takes a swig of his water to hide the grin that spreads on his face, and when he makes eye contact with a random student from across the hall he feels like they heard that too. he wishes they could hear, and know that you, the best tennis player stanford has probably ever had, are having to physically restrain yourself from him.

“what are you smiling about?” the familiar voice of patrick calls out from a few strides away, in a pair of indigo levis and a white tee, grabbing onto arts shoulders and lowering himself down to his level to grab his chin playfully. art swats him away immediately, pushing patrick down into a chair. and tashi grazes your shoulders softly with her hand when taking a seat next to you and stealing a piece of your fruit from your bowl, “good morning.”

“morning.” you sigh out, taking a sip of your tea and hoping that it isn’t totally obvious that you slept with your friend. but tashi takes notice of the slight frizz in your hair, a dishevelled-ness that is never usually there, so it wasn’t her intention to call you out in front of the four of you when she asks, “why do you look hungover?” she even moves a piece of your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear to get a better look at the colour under your eyes. your brows furrow, eyes glancing to the left of you at the two boys whose expressions couldn’t be anymore different. art’s poker face is awful, he’s trying to keep his face composed but his posture slumps under the weight of patrick’s hand that spreads across over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk.

you shrug nonchalantly, taking another bite of your breakfast to act like your lungs aren’t constricting and you aren’t going into fight or flight, “late night i guess.”

theres a moment of silence, everyone in their heads peacefully while you wish you could get into art’s and find out what he’s thinking about your pathetic lie.

“nice shirt.” patrick says.

“thanks." you reply, swiping over the embroidered ‘mark rebellat tennis academy’ with a finger and looking up at patrick, who meets your eyes with a knowing smirk that makes you feel silly for not assuming that patrick would have memorised art’s whole closet, or recognise the school they went to.

and when patrick squeezes art’s shoulder and asks whether he is “up for a game?” you suddenly become hyper aware of how much his gaze slips past art’s eyes and down onto you as they stand up from the table, eyes squinting and a stupid smile on his face. the combination is so piercing you’ve become aware that even if tashi believed your lie, and art thinks he’s got away scott free—he knows, and he’s letting you know.

his hand ruffles the hair on art’s head, arm falling over his shoulders and drawing him into himself, “we have a bunch of catching up to do, art.” he keeps art close to him as they walk away towards the tennis courts, leaning in to whisper something into his ear after the both of them briefly turned around to wave you and tashi goodbye.

tashi seems unphased by their behaviour, continuing to braid a small of piece of your hair that she unconsciously started. “you know patrick’s about to tell art all about your get together.” you chuckle and tashi scoffs, leaning back into her chair, “he wouldn’t say anything” she reassures, “also we didn’t even do anything.” she adds in quickly, stealing another piece of watermelon from your bowl and taking a bite to avoid talking about the topic like you hadn’t just done that. you smile at her, and she widens her eyes to let you know that she’ll tell you all about last night later.

“i wouldn’t be so sure.” you shake your head, stealing back the half-bitten melon from in between her fingers and finishing it off.

[forthelostones]

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ➺ 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 #6

anderson construction and landscaping had been parked outside your door since you returned home from university. as if the summer couldn't get any hotter, the business owner works overtime in your area. anderson is collecting new, loyal clients of your neighbors, cementing her permanence in your life for the next few months. what's to come of your girlish crush when she keeps showing up?

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜. 18+ (mdni); age-gap, young!reader, older!abby, butch!abby, slow-burn, suggestive language, thoughts of infidelity, ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parents, nickname: sweetheart, and modern au.

𝚊𝚗. yall! life has been crazy. your girl is finally back. I'm so sorry I love you all for loving me. lets geeettt etttt. x (sorry for any typos omg)

♫ 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. lifeless by asal ♫

You were given an interview opportunity in exchange for your girlfriend's labor and loyalty to Anderson Construction. All of this had one redeemable quality which was Ms. Anderson. The woman continued to become more and more irresistible by the minute and Ellie was simply less tolerable. There was a looming guilt that you became familiar with since going to her house. Being in her presence felt like a blanket of security you’ve never gotten. You felt an understanding with Abby that Ellie couldn’t give you, which could be because Ms. Anderson was a mature woman. Her conversation about figuring it out and being young was simple enough, but coming from her it was more than just shitty advice. It was a bright light at the end of a never-ending tunnel. 

After leaving her place the other night, your good but anxious energy turned sour when you went to Ellie’s. The vibrations of a heavy bass rumbled under your feet making any positive energy you had deflate. She knew how unsettled her metal music made you and she expected you, so why was she doing this? You unlock the door with your key and unknowingly welcome in the scent of weed. It was forced onto you and you imagined it permeating the fibers of your clothes, leaving behind a stench.

“Ellie?” You holler. 

With the slam of the door, you dare to keep your shoes on and walk into the bedroom, as you didn’t plan on staying. She was sprawled over the bed with a joint between her lips, blowing a glowing nebulous bundle toward the ceiling. The expel of smoke made you ferociously hateful. You despised when she smoked inside allowing it to linger on for days. She knew you were coming and yet. She wore one of your night shirts with nothing underneath as her ankles hung off the edge of the mattress. 

“Ellie,” 

You walk over to the speaker and turn off the music, finally able to relax a bit.

“'m listening to that, baby.” She says, eyes hollow, pulling your shirt to her nose to smell the remnants of perfume. As she did, the dark mound between her legs revealed her ache. You flick on the lights, remove the joint from her fingers, and drop it into her ashtray, she didn’t protest. She squints and rubs her eyes to clear her cloudy vision.

“You called me over here because you were high out of your mind? I thought you wanted to talk?” 

“I do.” Her voice was weak with exhaustion.

She rolled onto her stomach to expose her pale ass then kicked her feet up behind her to trace shapes onto the wall. 

“So what? This couldn’t have been a phone call?” Your patience was running thin and seeing her partially naked body was making this even more difficult. You were pissed at her but it didn’t take away from the fact that she was attractive.

“Why are you so jumpy, sit down,” 

The timbre in her voice was buttery and warm, sliding between you two. So you did, you sat on the corner, keeping your distance from your minx. 

“I got high because I threw my back today, I’m in pain.” 

“I’m sorry, it just seemed as if it was all urgent. I was busy.” You say as she rolls to lay her head in your lap. Her eyes were pink, matching her wet mouth, which begged you to kiss it. You avoided doing so, knowing Ellie wouldn't stop and neither could you.

“Sure,” She slurred, making your cheeks turn hot. “What’s going on with us?” 

You look down into her eyes to see a broken girl. Someone you broke. A girl who lost every single person in her life and couldn’t take another loss. Which was one of the reasons you held on and thought that you could learn to love her again and even more the next time around.

“How do you mean?” You question but you know exactly what she means. Ellie wasn’t the brightest but she wasn’t completely stupid to your physical cues. She saw how much initiative you took during sex, something you never did before, she saw how avoidant you were, emotionally detached from her — it was time to be honest. 

“You’re changing and I don’t know how to keep up.” 

You loved Ellie, parts of her anyway, and seeing her laid in bed begging for something as simple as affection tore you into pieces. You brush a brassy strand away from her face.

“I know.” 

“Tell me what I need to do to make it better?” 

Your eyes widen at her, you certainly didn’t expect her to say that. It was the weed talking, she was delirious, horny, needing a temporary fix. 

“Can I think about it?” You ask, even though you’ve been thinking about it. 

“Sure you can. I know I can be an asshole and not understand you its just…”

When she sat up and crossed her legs under herself you don’t hesitate to rub her back painting small circles against the fabric of your shirt. She brings it back to her nose as if you were already gone.  

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong here. In this relationship, it’s like I’m not good enough for you or something.” 

The soft girl before suddenly morphed into the woman you were familiar with. Her words became sharp and loud, ready to break out and stampede around the room, destroying everything in sight, even you.

“Did I ever say that?” you mutter gently.

“It’s so apparent that you don’t have to say anything. All you gotta do is look at me and that’s how I know.”

“What just happened, why are you—” 

“I’m blue collar trash to you and I always will be. I don’t have a family who has stocks and investments. I don’t have a college degree on that wall and I know you hate that, I know it devalues me.” 

“Ellie, none of that matters.” 

She stands up and walks to the door and leans against it as if she is holding in a grand secret. A pause falls between the two of you for a whole minute before Ellie inhales to speak. 

“When is the last time we had a proper date or actual good sex that wasn’t to just shut me up?” 

“Have you ever thought to ask me why some of those things aren’t happening?” 

“I’m asking you now,” 

You couldn’t form a sentence quickly enough at the last part of her sentence. You rise and walk towards her and she stops you with a weak hand up as she catches a breath. “You don’t ask me how I am, what I feel about moving hundreds of miles away from you, the only person I have. I don’t have what you have. Fuck, I wish I did but…” 

“El.” 

“Can you leave?” 

“What?”

“I want you to leave so I don’t say something I don’t regret.” 

“No, say it.” 

Your chests were pressed against each other, a taut heat emanating from the passing of words. Ellie looks into your eyes before bringing her mouth to yours and wrapping her hands around your waist. The kiss became salty with her tears slipping into the crease of your lip. She drops her head on your chest to slide to the floor breaking down.

“Baby?” You mutter. 

In an instant she looks up to you, on her knees, eyes wide with glistening pearls. Her mouth finds the inner corner of your thigh, then your belly, up to your clavicle where she sucks. 

“I need you.” She sighs into your skin. 

“Let’s talk.” 

If you never went there, you would have never been able to persuade Ellie to become Abby’s roofer. Everything was moving faster than you could’ve imagined. Now you sat in Ms. Anderson’s driveway waiting for the clock to hit 10:00 a.m. to enter for your interview. You see Abby open the shades where her living room is and the woman stuns you, even through the glass, and you can’t wait to get a closer glimpse. 

You raise your hand but before you can meet the door it swings open. Abby stands tall in a dark blue linen top falling just above her waist. Her thighs were bulging out of a pair of dark khaki pants. On her feet were a pair of sweet house shoes with small dogs on them. 

“Good morning, come on in.” She says in a deeper voice than usual. 

“Thank you, Ms. Anderson.” You grin. 

The summer wind filled with the scent of freshly clipped grass and sheets washed in Tide fell over you — intoxicating, you thought. 

“I brewed some coffee, I bought lavender syrup, that’s what the barista said is the most popular. Did you want some before we started?"

  “Yes ma’am, that would be great.” 

Abby looked nervous. Those round cheeks were more red than normal and she chewed on the corner of her thumb more than usual. It was cute. But why was she nervous, you wondered. You took your shoes off and stalked behind her into the kitchen where she learned against the counter to pour the warm coffee into a plain white mug. Her big hands pull a small bottle of purple syrup out of the cabinet and poured a bit into the steaming coffee. 

“So, I should start on your bedroom after this, I’m kind of excited.” She admitted, holding the cup out for you to grab. 

“I can say I am excited too. Not only for the reno but for this interview.” 

She pours herself a cup, no cream, no syrup and took a long gulp that looked like it burned. But afterwards she sighed as if it was refreshing. You followed her up to the office you sat in just days ago and watching her ass sway down the hallway was delightful. 

“Okay, so tell me about yourself and your previous experience with administrative business work.” 

You cross and uncross your legs before finally answering her bringing the mug to your lips slowly. You imagined her mouth on the same rim, sweet yet savory, plump and damp from the sips of coffee she took. You wanted to laugh in Ms. Anderson’s face because she had clearly seen your resume and it felt as if you two were both beyond the formalities. 

“College grad, great organizational skills, experience with numbers, and spreadsheets.” You say. 

“Well, that sounds good to me. What you can expect in those role is taking me on.” 

You choke slight as your snort a bit of coffee into your mouth. “Take you on?” 

Abby shook her head and grinned behind her fluffy cheeks. That smile was not subtle at all and you wanted to bask in it longer. Hearing her chuckle like this was music to your ears. 

“Sorry, I mean you’ll basically become me, you’re fulfilling the majority of my responsibilities.” 

“Meaning I will be trained well, that’s good.” You add. 

Abby pretends to scribble something down but it seemed like it was a ploy to avoid your lingering eyes. 

“Okay, I have some scenarios that I want to run through you with.” 

Her voice was neutral almost hiding a grin that you wanted to push the margins just to see it. You had several scenarios in your mind that you were running through and none of them were work appropriate. 

“If a client reaches out to you and is inconsolable, they are complaining about paying us fairly, late invoices—that kind of thing—what would be your first approach?” She brought the pen to her lips and bit gently on it. You imagined it was your index finger and the thought alone made you tingle. 

“I’m sure you and I will come together and handle it. I think it would be best suited to simply end the relationship and charge them for the products and labor we already put in.” 

Abby nodded silently as if she wasn’t impressed as she hid a trembling lip behind the rim of cup. 

“A lot of what I do is keeping all the moving parts organized and in line. Tell me about…” 

The interview lasted three hours because after the last two questions you two followed a tangent into an alleyway that was long and winding. You slid into comfortable conversation about how Abby got her start and what made her take this route. 

“Well, my granddad started the business back in our hometown that was small and pretty much you knew everyone. He’d go around laying down foundations for homes, building barns, and even a bit of landscaping. My dad had no interest in doing this shit and I don’t blame him. Went to medical school and never looked back but I guess it skipped him and came to me.” 

The way Abby’s eyes lit up made this all the more intriguing. She talked about her job with such fervor and passion, it was palpable. “You have clearly made a name for yourself.” 

“Well, that’s what I’m hoping. I’m old sweetheart and I need time to get back to a version of myself is sustainable. That’s why I’m hiring you.” 

“So, I got the job?” Your voice rises. 

On Abby’s couch you were spread so that you took up two cushions. When coffee turned into cocktails you knew it was lingering into dangerous territory. Ms. Anderson sat opposite of you and your feet were inches away from her legs that were spread widely. 

“I’m not sure what you put in this but its delicious.” 

You smacked your lips after nearly inhaling the tequila and berry mix that had no name and yet was calling yours. 

“I used to mix drinks at the college bar when I was younger so I know my way around a glass.” 

You were learning so much about her and wanted to probe more. Become consumed with the possibilities available with your new boss. You had to be cautious but you loved it. 

“You were doing city construction by day and a bartender at night? Damn.” 

When Abby stood up to walk over to the bookshelf, you missed her presence even though she was a few feet away. She quickly returns with a photo book in her hand. Without thinking Abby grips your ankles to push them away from her to come closer to you. You couldn’t tell if it was the Carmessi Abby put in this drink but that brief moments of skin-to-skin set you ablaze. 

She opened the book and flipped to a spread that made your jaw drop to the floor. You lean over to see the blonde butch behind a sticky bar with shitty alcohol, pouring a purple liquid into a stained glass.  Her hair was short on the sides and gelled upwards down the center. Her muscles were massive, painted with dark stretch marks and flexed. You ran a finger over the image and looked at her briefly to compare. She was just as beautiful, especially with the lingering strands of grey hair she grew now. 

“This job was annoying,” She added. “But I got a lot of numbers every night.” 

“And this?” You bring your attention to a picture of Abby that she attempted to cover with her hand. You gently remove it to see the handsome girl leaving over the bar, different haircut, mouth open, and tongue in between her fingers. The round ball in the center of her tongue was reflecting the harsh Kodak camera light. It was bad, the secret thoughts you were having, downright disgusting. 

“Gosh, I’m sorry this is so embarrassing and I’m sure you have better things to do than see an old woman get nostalgic.” 

You hadn’t noticed how you traced an outline of her body in the picture until silence fell between you two. “Are you embarrassed Ms. Anderson?” You laugh, your faces only a few inhales away. 

A quick glance towards your bottom lip made you feel out of character. The desire to pull on her collar and meet her lips burned faster than you liked to admit. The thought of the things the experienced woman could make you feel was mingling with the alcohol beautifully. You hoped she hadn't noticed the slight squeeze of your thighs.

“A little. Excuse me.” She says coldly.

What happened? You sit up slightly as she walks back over the bookshelf and into the kitchen. You swallow the last bit of your drink. A small spidery chill cracked down your spine as the sudden disruption settled in the air. Images of when Ellie would leave you stranded left you feeling empty.

When you come to your feet a drowsy warmth coaxs over you. That wasn't good. Abby was fishing in the fridge to pull out a pitcher of water.

"Ms. Anderson—"

"Abby. Call me Abby, sweetheart."

"Abby, did I say something wrong?"

She turns towards you wiping away the water trapped on the sparse hairs on top lip. When she walked away, she undid a button, exposing a small strip of freckled skin.

"No, I get these migraines and it's just..."

"I've been here too long. I know that feeling. Um."

Abby chewed on the corner of her lip. "I enjoy your company. I sometimes forget that I am not a teenager who can stay up until," She raises her wrist. "5 p.m. and sometimes those photos serve as a clear reminder. I apologize for keeping you."

You step closer to fill the space. You hope she didn't notice your straying eye. The sleeves of her shirt were pulled above the elbow, carving out a sexy muscle in her forearm. You craved to trace a finger along the outline. Why was your heart beating like you were standing at the edge of a cliff, ready to jump? Surely this crush was simply that, an experience to ogle at an attractive woman.

"—that okay?"

"I'm sorry, what?" You shake your head, distracted by the shameful thoughts inserting themselves into your mind.

"You'll hear back in two days is that okay?"

"Of course. Are you going to be good?"

"I will be, I am. Let me walk you out."

As you slip your shoes on Abby's delicate yet heavy hand presses against your waist to open the door. A groan caught in your throat. The quick and meaningless touch almost made you arch your back into her. The woman walked down the steps to your car and opened that door too.

"Why don't you text me when you get home hm?" She said.

"Yes ma'am. See you tomorrow?"

"Absolutely. Goodnight."

There was a beat before she closed the door wishing you could take her home with you.

9:45 p.m. home.

10:00 p.m. Thank you :)

[lesbesapphic]

hey, how are you? i’m struggling a lot with the start of lectures for my last year and just wanted to ask if you could make a drabble of the gold rush au where R is going back to uni and struggling for it, maybe after spending the whole summer with wanda and natasha. thank you sm if you write it <3

Heyy! I am good and sure, I can totally understand the struggle. I will try to make one.

---

"Let's watch one more pleaseeeee!" You begged from your position in between Wanda and Natasha, your head placed on Wanda's lap as she absentmindedly ran her fingers through your hair.

"This was the third extra episode we watched." Natasha pointed out, holding back a yawn as she looked at the time, "And it is 11:30 already, don't you have college tomorrow?" She asked, her tone taking on a firm tone and you slumped more into Wanda's hold, hiding your face a little in her lap but she was having none of it, a simple tug on your hair had you staring up at her with an innocent look on your face.

"I don't wanna go." You admitted your little plan of making them sleep late so that they won't wake you up for your classes and Wanda couldn't help but laugh, "You really thought it would work?" She asked and you shook your head in defeat. "Seriously, She would be in hell and still make you go." Natasha added and Wanda gave her an unamused look, "You could have said heaven too, you know." She pointed out and Natasha along with you let out a laugh.

"Baby I am anything but a liar."

"Shut up." Wanda grumbled and turned to you who by now was sitting up, your eyes held a tired look that had Wanda softening her tone, "It is just two classes, tomorrow." Wanda pointed out softly while Natasha nodded in agreement. They didn't quite understand what to do in the situation, you never had any issues with going to university and it was a complete new scene to deal with.

"I know..It is just.." You let out a sigh of frustration when you noticed the saddened confused look on their faces, it made you feel bad for being a pathetic baby and felt the pent up frustration rising up as your eyes started stinging with tears. "Forget it.. Let's just go to sleep." You started standing up but Natasha grabbed your wrist, "Hey... Talk to us. What's wrong?" Her voice held concern and it only made you feel stupid for even making an issue about something so small.

"It is nothing.. I am fine." You lied but your face told the truth, the tears which stung your eyes now freely making its way down your cheek and Wanda was quick enough to wipe it. "You know what? Let's have some tea in bed and discuss whatever it is that is bothering you."

"I am fine. You don't have to pull a Sheldon on me." You chuckled and she rolled her eyes, "You were just begging to watch another episode of it so suck it." Wanda replied while making her way to the kitchen, "See you two in a bit. Get in bed."

It was not everyday where Wanda would agree to eat or drink something in bed besides her morning black coffee that too would be placed instantly on the side table after each sip so it was a blessing indeed to have the woman bending her rules like that. She even had a huge fight with Natasha over eating in bed and needless to say it didn't end well for you whenever there is trouble in paradise.

---

"Okay. So you are really letting us eat too?" Natasha confirmed for the umpteenth time and Wanda rolled her eyes before putting up a fake smile, "If you ask, one more time I swear to God Natasha I will make tomorrow hell for you at work." Wanda threatened and you couldn't help but laugh at Natasha's expression.

"Geez." She took another cookie from the plate while taking a sip of her tea. "I just don't like the sudden change, going back to college again every morning.." You finally decided to break the ice and talk about it.

"Look who's being a Sheldon Cooper now."

"Wanda!" Natasha and you both looked at her in surprise and she looked surprised as well, "I am sorry!" She apologized and you couldn't help but laugh at her remark, getting a jib at you for your earlier comment. It lightened the atmosphere.

"Well..It is understandable..but What is it that is making you dread it?" Wanda asked getting back in character, her tone softening and you rolled your eyes a little with a smile at the presentation and Wanda smacked your thigh lightly.

"I don't know..I haven't given it much of a thought..maybe I just don't want to jump right into that change.. and we are so happy each day and now it is back to that hectic schedule.."

"Maybe you just don't want to leave the comfort of just being us three every day." Natasha pointed out and you shrugged your shoulders not knowing what to say exactly to that because you could sense that it was definitely one of the underlying factors behind it.

"Honestly, I struggle with going to work everyday as well.. especially after weekends when I am so full of contentment, spending every waking second with my favourite women in the world.." Natasha brought your hand to kiss your knuckle and you looked up at her, a little smile forming on your lips seeing the gaze of adoration she held for both you and Wanda, it filled you with a warmth that no tea could.

"I hate going to work.. but then the thought of coming back home to you two again..makes me happy. Makes all of it worth it." Natasha shrugged when Wanda awed at her, you could see a blush forming on Natasha's cheeks, "Who knew you were such a cutie underneath those layers."

"Shut up."

Wanda and you laughed and she turned to you, "I tell you what, you slowly ease yourself back into your routine. We will make a to do list every morning and at lunch I will send Alfred to pick you up. We can spend some time together until you feel ready to fully commit to the hectic schedule..Does that sound good?" Wanda asked and you bit your lip, nodding a little, the to do list she made before summer would always help you segregate tasks and give you boost of reinforcement each time you cross a task.

"And we can also eat out tomorrow."

"Now you are just spoiling her." Wanda told Natasha who rolled her eyes and you laughed at the start of another one of their bickering. "Wrong. I am spoiling both of you." Natasha gave a sloppy kiss on Wanda's cheek and Wanda groaned, "Natasha!! Ew." You didn't miss the opportunity when Natasha gave you a mischievous look and instantly gave Wanda's other cheek and even sloppier kiss and jumped away when she went to hit you.

"I seriously hate you two." She gave the two of you a glare before wiping her cheeks with a tissue, "We love you too, Baby." Natasha smirked and you grinned from ear to ear. Maybe if coming back from college meant this, it won't be that horrifying.

-----

Hey.. I tried my best. I was feeling up to it but I really hope you liked it and am sorry for a bit of the delay! Hope you are doing good now and if you ever wanna talk my asks are always open !!

[skyler10fic]

Picnic Poetry

Summary: Carol has a special literary date night planned for Daisy.

Notes: Based on the November 1k image prompt from @ficwip

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

In the familiarity of their favorite coffee shop, Daisy and Carol exchanged clueless looks as Jemma and Fitz laughed at their inside joke. Sometimes double dates were a perfectly cohesive found family, and other times, one couple simply blinked at the other couple in bafflement.

“I’m happy you’ve found each other,” Carol quipped.

“Oh come on,” Jemma admonished, seeing their stares. “It’s Shakespeare! Everyone knows…”

Fitz jumped in, “It was also a quote in last week’s episode of Howling Commandos.” 

“Not helping!” Daisy whined. “We’re smart at things too.”

Carol pointed up. Her satellite, as they all called it despite her part in it being a small component, was successfully returning data back to Earth now. The friends were all very proud, but the time she had spent at work for the last year meant she was behind on pop culture references in addition to literary ones.    

“Yes, we know,” Jemma sighed, “you have an excellent excuse for not being caught up with television, but really? Shakespeare?” 

“I get it, poetry and all that is important,” Carol offered unconvincingly, which only made the withering look from Jemma worse. “Okay, fine, we will read more. And real literature, too.” 

“We will?” Daisy tilted her head. 

Carol turned to Daisy with a sparkling smile only made more charming in the dim, warm light of the coffee shop’s cozy aesthetics. 

“I have an idea.” 

Daisy couldn’t wait to find out what Carol’s wink was about, but she knew flirting when she saw it. 

“Alright, Miss Reading Rainbow,” Daisy teased. “I’m in.” 

—---------------------- 

Carol watched the weather all week, anxious as the last heat of summer cooled into autumn. She found a comet on one of the satellite cameras at work and wished on it, just in case it counted as a wishing star. Technically cheating, but a gesture to the universe that she was not above begging. 

When Friday night came, she got her wish: date night temperatures would be crisp and dry for her plan. 

She arrived at the hillside park early to set up. She had blankets, pillows, a candle, a few love-poetry collection books, and a plate of homemade cookies. She would wait until Daisy arrived to open the tumbler of hot tea and pull out the old autumn-patterned tea cups her grandma had given her. She wanted this night to be meaningful. 

She paced around the setup, realizing what she’d forgotten in her Subaru as the blanket threatened to blow away in a gust of wind. Five minutes later, she was back with seasonal gourds to function as blanket weights. It was still missing something… She spotted some small white flowers growing nearby and a sprig that had broken off. 

“There,” she said aloud to the blanket. Now all it was lacking was a flannel-clad girlfriend. 

—---- 

Daisy saw Carol futzing with the picnic blanket. As she walked closer across the grassy hill and saw more clearly, her heart lept in joy and it was all she could do to keep from running to Carol. 

“It’s perfect,” Daisy called. Carol turned to her and gestured in pride. 

“Ta-da! Not too cheesy?”

Daisy shook her head. “Romantic. Look at all of this!”

“This is for you.” Carol arranged a pillow pile and sat crisscross on her own. Daisy mirrored her and Carol poured their tea, pausing when she noticed the laugh Daisy was holding back.

“What? And don’t say what back, I see you,” Carol teased and her eyes dipped to Daisy’s lips. 

“It’s silly.” Daisy giggled, but shrugged and looked away at the park and then back at Carol. “It’s just, when I was little, the first time I wondered if I liked girls, I said I thought a tea party would be my ideal date. I always laughed about it as such a five-year-old thing to say, but now we’re here.” 

“That’s so sweet.” Carol laughed. “Would it feel more grown-up if I read you some poetry?”

“Let’s try it.” Daisy arranged the extra blanket over their laps and took a cookie.

As Carol read, Daisy fell deeper in love. After the third famous poem, Daisy stopped her with a hand to Carol’s knee and leaned in. Carol met her sweet lips eagerly, and that was the end of their high-brow literary expedition for the evening. They kissed and watched the pink-orange sunset, but Daisy had one last poem for them. 

“This is so embarrassing,” Daisy cringed. “I wrote it myself and it’s terrible, but I wanted to give you something too, as a thank-you for all of this. Or whatever your plan was going to be.” 

Carol rearranged the pillows and put away the food and drinks in her picnic basket. She lay down on the pillows, and Daisy lay back against her, then began reading from a note on her phone. Carol held her tight and kissed her temple several times as Daisy read. It was no Shakespeare, but it was so much more special because it was just between them, for them, about them.  

When Daisy finished, she turned around to gauge Carol’s reaction, feeling the most vulnerable she’d ever been with her. Carol’s lips were slightly open in awe but she didn’t speak.

“Please say something.” Daisy laughed nervously. 

“Sorry,” Carol exhaled. “I love it. You…” 

“Yeah,” Daisy shrugged in faux nonchalance as if she hadn't just bared her whole heart. “It’s getting dark. Time to take this back to my place?” 

“Yes, please.” Carol smiled devilishly, and they gathered their romantic setup in favor of dinner and a night in Daisy’s warm, cozy bed. 

—--------------

Snuggled under the quilt, Daisy yawned and said, “What if we have a lazy Saturday watching Jane Austen movies.” 

“Mhmm,” Carols mumbled, half-asleep. “There’s an Agatha Christie play on Sunday.” 

“There we go,” Daisy concluded. “We are cultured, smart women, who have time for bookish stuff now.”

“So smart,” Carol sighed and cuddled in close as she fell asleep. No matter what anyone said, to Daisy’s mind, this was poetry.  

[strawbrerian-writes]

About Damn Time

This fucking thing was meant to be my contribution for @elucienweekofficial day 7 Prompt: AU. Did I get it complete in time? No. Life got in my way. Oh Well.

So here's a smutty, more plot than I meant it to have, really long Elucien one-shot. Which I am completely dedicating to @separatist-apologist for being a wonderful human and inspiring me and so many others out there.

Title: About Damn Time

Rating: Explicit

Summary:

Elain planned to have a quiet, cool day off. The universe took one look at her plans and said "bet."

Elain Archeron was convinced that a good cup of coffee could stop wars.

She was equally convinced it was a lack of a good cup of coffee that caused them.

It was 7:30 in the morning, and she was struggling. Summer was in full swing. As a landscaper, she preferred to do her work as early as possible. It was both better for the plants and for her employees’ disposition, as working conditions from eleven on in the summer were the stuff of nightmares.

The sun would be relentless. The heat would climb well into the nineties and the “feels like” would push it into triple digits. Most people would retreat to the air conditioning or find some body of water and stay there.

If the heat weren’t bad enough, average eighty percent humidity meant that even standing outside for five minutes kept her entire body soaking wet without her consent and her hair threatening to mutiny even in its braid.

The heat wouldn’t stop the bugs, though. They’d swarm, getting stuck in her sweat and biting any skin left exposed.

Elain loved it. She loved the messiness of it. The way the dirt was always cool beneath her fingers, the way the right plants flourished under the burning sun. She was made for sunny days and warm weather and mess.

She wasn’t crazy, though. Even she had her limits. Like the fact that it was 90% humidity and 90 degrees at seven-thirty with the weatherman calling for over 100 degrees by noon when she’d meant to be up and at the jobsite by six. She’d had three of her five employees call in, taking advantage of her high temps’ policy.

She usually wouldn’t mind. Had even decided last night to call it, herself. She texted all clients on the books for the day to let them know her crew would get to them the following business day and turned off her alarm.    

Until her favorite client called that morning.

The director of the public library was in a panic, begging her to get the landscaping done before the summer reading program finale. Tomorrow. It was their biggest program of the year and auditors from the state were coming in.

“We have the potential to bring massive grants if everything goes off without a hitch. We could finally start the renovations we need. I know the weather is bad, Elain, but please I’ll pay double. Out of my own damn pocket,” Helion begged, his usually rich, smoky voice taking on a whine.  

“It’s not just that, Helion,” she sighed into the receiver. “I’m down three guys today due to heat. You know my temps’ policy; I can’t make them come in. It takes four of us total to do a job that big in a day.”

“How many do you have?” he responded quickly. Elain could hear shuffling in the background and a woman’s voice murmuring. Likely his wife, who has hired Elain on several occasions to spruce up her gardens.

“Including myself, three.”

“Great! I have a meeting this morning and then I’ll be out to help. Sylva is grabbing Aodhan. He’ll meet you in, what? Thirty?” Helion was determined. She’d give him that.   

“Aodhan Vanserra?” Elain questioned. She started to gather her things for the day. She knew the moment she answered the phone she was going to go. “Is he back in town?”

“He likes to get his hands dirty, and he’s strong. Put him to work wherever you need him,” Helion said loudly. She heard more scuffling, doors being shut and then her friend was back in a whisper, “Beron kicked him out, cut him off, and nearly killed the poor guy. Do not say anything about his ear.”

“What’s wrong with his ear?” Elain whispered as well. Even though she was in a room by herself and presumably no one could hear her.

“Later,” Helion hissed, then louder, “and you’re not paying him, dear. I am. As a thank you for this. Truly.”

“I didn’t say I’d do it,” Elain lied sweetly. Of course, she had already shoved the phone between her ear and shoulder so she could pull on her brown work boots.  

“E-laain,” Helion whined, drawing her name out ridiculously, “but you love me.”

She sighed theatrically. “You know I do. You don’t have to pay extra. Just take care of your step-son and provide us with lunch and hydration.”

“Deal!” Helion’s shout was nothing short of triumphant. “Love you, too. See you soon.”  

He hung up the phone, leaving Elain standing in her living room shaking her head.

Elain couldn’t bring herself to say no to Helion.

She’d spent most of her days in that library. Helion had become one of her closest friends over the years. Before he was director of the library, he was a high school history teacher and headed up the gardening club. He was probably Elain’s most favorite person outside of her family.   

So, she threw her hair in a rough ponytail and rushed out the door. Between the two employees who agreed to work the heat and Aodhan, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad day. She’d be starting later than she wanted but with any luck, she’d been done before they all melted into plant food.

She’d do just about anything for her clients, especially Helion.

Well, except give up her morning large, iced coffee. He could wait another ten minutes. She was feeling chocolate peanut butter and whipped cream this morning.

“Elain?”

Every muscle in her body tensed. She squeezed her eyes tight, counting to three before she turned around.

Standing in line just behind Elain was her ex-boyfriend, Graysen Lorde and a very petite, beautiful woman she’d never seen before. She had beautiful ebony skin and sleek, black hair down to her shoulders. They were both dressed for work, Graysen in the gray slacks and a white button-down that indicated it was Thursday, the woman in a sleek, black pantsuit and heels.

“Graysen?”

What was he doing here? Last she’d heard he moved, took a high paying position at a new bank out west. Not to mention, he hated coffee.

“I thought that was you,” he said with a nervous smile. “You look…good.”

Elain glanced down at her clothes. She was rushed this morning, grabbing the first set of anything she could find. Which meant wearing a pair of canvas shorts with tears from work, a white tank top with a dirt stain along the bottom hem where she’d undoubtedly rubbed her hands without thinking, and an oversized green flannel one of her little sister’s friends had left behind years ago, in an attempt to hide the stains and tears of her work clothes.

“Thanks, just heading into the office,” she joked lamely. Graysen was never a fan of her “blue-collar” job. When they met, she was a bank teller working through community college. She spent her days in business casual clothing, hair always curled, and her makeup flawless.

No dirt under her nails. No sweat. No mess. No fun.

Graysen looked as he always had. Handsome face, sandy brown hair cut close, clothes tailored perfectly to his body. He looked like he’d put on some muscle, and maybe gotten a little tan somewhere.

“You’re Elain Archeron?” the beautiful woman said smiling, her voice deeper than she expected. It was almost musical. Graysen coughed a little and seemed to give her some kind of a look from the side.

Elain tried to brush it off. They had split over a year now, halfway agreeable, but she knew her ex to twist everything to his advantage. There was no telling what he’d told this woman.  

She collected herself, standing a little straighter. She brushed her hands off on her shirt. “Uh, yeah…yes. I’m Elain Archeron.”

“Oh wow! You did the floral arrangements for my sister’s wedding this past February! The Rosenbluth/Cress wedding,” the woman smiled brilliantly, her pearly white teeth shining. She seemed…genuine. She even reached out her hand to shake Elain’s.

Elain remembered the wedding. It was a Valentine’s wedding. The bride wanted every pink, red, and white flower in existence. If that wasn’t a tall enough order, she’d waited until a week before the wedding to order anything at all. A week before Valentine’s Day. Every shop in a fifty-mile radius was booked up, and no florist would take her on.

Then someone had given Elain’s name to the bride’s mother.

“I remember her,” Elain mused. She took the woman’s offered hand in a firm shake. It was surprisingly calloused – just like her own. “I’d done some floral arranging before, but nothing to that scale. It was a nice challenge.”

They moved up a bit in line. She snuck a glance at Graysen. His face was quickly losing color.  

“Oh, don’t be modest! She asked for the moon, and you gave it to her. You pulled an absolute miracle out of thin air,” the still nameless woman gushed. Elain was starting to blush. There was something so kind and sincere about this woman that it put her at ease. She just had one of those sunny personalities that drew people in. Elain couldn’t help but like this woman. “I honestly wish I would’ve known about you sooner, and I wouldn’t have wasted my money on the hack who did our wedding.”

Wait, what? Elain’s brain stuttered. She prayed the shock didn’t show on her face. Our wedding?

“Cora…” Graysen started, a hint of warning in his voice. He had a thin line of sweat beading up on his hairline now, his face completely pallid. The woman paid him no attention.

“Don’t you remember, babe? The flowers were half wilted before the ceremony was even over. It was a disaster,” Cora – his wife, apparently – went on seemingly oblivious to the sudden tension in the atmosphere. “They were sunflowers, even. Hardy things, right? Perfect for a fall wedding, but no…the guy had cut them too early, didn’t care for them properly and they were dead before nightfall.”

In that moment, three things became absolutely certain to Elain.

First, Graysen had lied to her when they broke up. He’d said they’d drifted apart, and it just wasn’t working out anymore.  

Second, he had to get married within weeks of breaking up with her. Which meant either the man who took six months deciding on which tie to wear to a Christmas banquet suddenly decided to add some serious spontaneity to his life, or ...

Elain didn’t want to think about or, because the last thing that was very clear in that moment was that this woman – Cora, Graysen’s wife ­– had no idea who the hell Elain really was.

Cora kept talking, but Elain couldn’t hear. Her heartbeat was thumping so loud in her ears she couldn’t hear anything besides her own panic and rising anger. She was vaguely aware of the line jostling her forward. Cora was still smiling, going on about the wedding and flowers and what a wonderful job Elain did for her friend.

Bile was rising in her throat. She had to get out of here. She’d send Helion out for coffee. He owed her, but she had to leave.

“I couldn’t remember if you wanted Lemon or Raspberry, so I got one of each,” a confident, low voice broke through her panic. Elain turned to the source and looked up…and up.

A very tall, very handsome man in a black t-shirt and jeans was standing beside her holding out parchment wrapped scones in one of his massive hands. The other hand held two coffees by the bottom, impressively long fingers keeping them steady. She looked farther up at the curve of his nose, those full, full lips and the familiar cut of jawline. At the rich, auburn hair pulled into a tight bun. At the long scar running along the side of his face.

Oh thank God, she knew this man.

“Babe?” he said it as a question, head quirked slightly. Elain could have kissed him. Might have, had she not been frozen in place.

“Lemon,” she blurted more forcefully than she’d meant. She grabbed the correct scone from his hand and one of the coffees, as if he’d gotten it for her. She smiled gratefully at him. “I’m feeling lemon today. Thank you, Lucien.”

His name rolled off her tongue with ease.

Lucien grinned. “A little sour today, sweet-tart?”

“Don’t you mean sweetheart?” she teased back, trying to appear effortless. Graysen and his wife were still standing there, after all, watching with interest. Though by now color had started to return to Graysen’s face.

“I said what I said,” Lucien smirked proudly. He turned to the other two. “Good to see you again, Gray.” He nodded. “Cora.”

“That explains it!” Cora exclaimed, clapping her hands cheerfully. She turned to her husband. “That’s how you knew to recommend Elain! She’s Lucien’s girl.”

Graysen’s eyes hardened imperceptibly. His ears were turning red, a sign of rising temper. Elain held her smile as Lucien stepped a bit closer to her, claiming her space. At least now she knew how Mrs. Rosenbluth got her number.

“Yes ma’am,” Lucien answered for Graysen, still grinning like a fool. “Graysen mentioned how difficult a time your friend was having around the office one day, and I kindly offered my girl’s assistance.”

Graysen’s left eye twitched. “Yep.” He said, lips popping hard on the ‘p’. “That’s exactly right.”

Elain had to fight down a nervous laugh. This all felt so absurd.  

“It was good seeing you again Cora, Graysen, but I’ve got to get my lady to Pops. You know how he panics,” Lucien laughed. He gestured to the door, arms encircling Elain and ushering her toward it. “I’ll see you around, Lorde.”

Graysen nodded curtly, Cora giving an enthusiastic wave.

“It was nice to meet you, Elain!” Cora called sweetly. Elain smiled back, raising her coffee in the air as if in a wave.

“You too, Cora!”  

When they were outside the doors, Elain turned to Lucien. “Glass doors, Elain. He’s still watching,” Lucien said, smiling widely. Elain chanced a glance through the windows and sure enough, Graysen’s eyes hadn’t left her.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, staying close to Lucien so as not to break the illusion. She looked down into her cup. “What is it?”

“It’s a Reese’s Iced Coffee, extra whip,” Lucien answered as he swirled the cup in his hand. “Which sounds absolutely atrocious with a lemon scone, by the way.”

Elain narrowed her eyes. “How?”

“Pops,” Lucien shrugged in response. He took a sip from his cup. “The coffee is amazing, though. I’ll give you that. Come on.” He motioned down the sidewalk, towards the parking lot a few buildings down.  

“Helion told you my drink order?” Elain questioned as they started walking down the street.

“Apparently you have him and mom both hooked on it,” Lucien explained. His russet eyes twinkled. “Though the scones were a guess.”   

“Oh,” Elain said softly. She eyed her scone for a minute, replaying the interaction in her head. She didn’t even know Graysen was back in town. Lucien seemed to, though. “Do you work with him?”

“Who? Lorde?” Lucien asked.

She gave a small nod.

“Not exactly,” Lucien shook his head. He wiped his mouth with the back of the hand holding the other pastry. “Different departments. Different floors. I really only see him at functions or in the gym.”

“When did he get back?” she asked. Elain didn’t want to seem like she was digging for information about an ex, but she was so thrown off by everything that she couldn’t help herself. She wanted answers. Lucien seemed to have some, at least.

“About two months ago, but I know he interviewed with Jurian back in February,” Lucien answered honestly.

“He works for Jurian?”

“Fuck no,” Lucien spat, his head whipping back and forth. He was smiling. “Jurian hates that guy.”

Elain giggled. They walked for a beat in silence before she was brave enough to ask.  

“So … did you know about…?”

“Only recently. He brought her a luncheon with my boss. He’s trying to switch out of accounting,” Lucien answered when she trailed off. “Until then, I didn’t know a damn thing.”

Elain and Graysen had dated on and off all through college. Lucien had been around for the entire disastrous thing.

She wasn’t as close to Lucien as Feyre was, but Lucien had always been an important part of Elain’s life. He’d always bought her flower seeds and pastries when she was down. He would drive her to the library on rainy days. He was at every party in college, living it up and chasing unwanted idiots off her and her sisters.

He walked with her in Feyre’s wedding, being both friends to the bride and groom. She was at the hospital with him the night of his wreck senior year.  His father was her first client when she opened her business. His mother her second.

But life took them in separate directions, Elain and Graysen got back together for the last time and Lucien just kind of…stopped coming around.

“He’s a bastard,” Lucien uttered as they arrived at their vehicles. “And he can’t hit his squats.”

Elain laughed. “Can’t all have thighs like yours Dump Truck,” she said with a smile, using his old high school nickname.

Lucien threw his head back and laughed uproariously.

“You know, I always did wonder where that shirt went,” he said, pointing to the flannel she currently had on. “Though how the hell you’re wearing that thing in this heat, I don’t understand.”

Elain looked down at it and grinned. “You don’t remember? You gave it to me after Jurian threw me in the pool at that kegger freshman year of college,” she said, ignoring his last comment. He didn’t need to know how it comforted her to wear it.

“You were in a white dress. Seemed like the right thing to do,” he shrugged. He had a lazy smirk still plastered to his face as he leaned against the side of his sedan.

“So, you do remember,” Elain narrowed her eyes at him.

“Guess so.”

“Then why’d you say you wondered where it went?” she asked exasperated. She sat her drinks down on the hood of her red truck.

“Something to say, I guess.” 

Elain shook her head. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was flirting with her. She did though. Lucien had only ever seen her as he saw Feyre, a silly little sister he had to take care of.

“Thank you, Lucien,” Elain said genuinely as she unlocked her truck door.

“What for?” he teased. He didn’t move, just stayed against his sedan, watching her with those rich reddish-brown eyes.

“The coffee, the scone, helping me out of an awkward situation.” She paused and gestured to her chest. “The shirt.”

He shrugged. “It was the right thing to do. You looked like you were gonna throw up or stab him.”

Elain giggled. “Which time?”

“Both,” Lucien chuckled. “Same look, different guy.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” Elain said softly. “Both times.”

“No problem, sweet-tart.”

She couldn’t help smiling at him. Lucien was kind. Fun. “My hero,” she said rolling her eyes dramatically. He chuckled.

She needed to leave. She needed to get in her truck, back out, and get to the library before the heat got any worse. She couldn’t make herself do it. Not with him smiling like that.   

“I’m not getting my shirt back am I?”

“It’s been six years, Dump Truck. Give up.” He laughed again. Big and bold. She liked it. “I’ll see you around?” she asked, turning to get into her truck. She had to force herself to move.

“Yep, in about ten minutes,” Lucien said with a smile. Her hand stalled on the silver door handle.  

Elain cocked her head in confusion. Lucien’s smile only widened.

“Pops said you needed help,” he said, voice low and dangerously close to making her swoon. “Looks like I get to be your hero a little longer.”

**

“Two weeks! Two fucking weeks after you broke up?”

An older woman on the treadmill three machines down shot the three of them a dirty look. Elain mouthed “I’m sorry” before turning back to her sister. “Nesta, keep it down.”

“Like hell,” Nesta spat, flicking her long brown hair over her shoulder. “I own the place. I’ll talk however I want to.”  

After leaving the coffee shop, Elain went straight to the library, followed closely by Lucien’s silver sedan. Her two guys were already there, shovels and rakes in hand. So was another man, who she could vaguely remember as being Lucien’s older half-brother Aodhan. He was shorter than Lucien, with brown hair not red. He was also missing the top part of his left ear. Per Helion’s instructions, she said nothing about it.

She’d shaken the cobwebs from her head and began to bark orders. She put her guys doing technical work, like trimming the hedges, weed eating and edging the property. When Helion came out ten minutes later, she made him get out the old zero turn he let her borrow and mow the entire lawn. The two brothers she put on hauling mulch, bags of topsoil, and garden stones.

All in all, they managed to get done in record time. Every one of them were drenched in sweat and red as a beet. Elain had never been so thankful for the heat. Her face had been scarlet for hours, ever since Lucien whipped his black top off ten minutes into the job, exposing a massive expanse of golden-brown muscle. When he commented on her flush, she brushed it off as the sun disagreeing with her pale skin.

She went home after, to shower and eat and maybe nap. Anything to get her mind off the sweat dripping down Lucien’s spine as he hauled a bag of topsoil across the lawn and the surprisingly dirty thought she had of tracing its path with her tongue.

Predictably, her mind bounced from one extreme to the other. She drifted back to that morning, and her interaction with Graysen. She couldn’t believe she did know that he’d gotten married.

So, she did what any woman in shoes would do. She wound up in a social media deep dive that was borderline stalking.

Graysen’s page turned out to be an information desert. Cora’s was also surprisingly sparse. There were lots of photos of cheerleading competitions, a few of her family – all beautiful – and a ton dedicated to a dachshund named Buttercup. Nothing actually personal.

Finally, after a good hour of deep diving into her ex’s life – something she’d swore she wouldn’t do after the breakup – Elain hit paydirt.

An obscure friend of a friend of a friend, who Elain didn’t even bother to remember their name, had posted a photo of a Graysen and Cora’s wedding, two weeks to the day that he broke up with Elain.

She read every single comment under the post. Then she put on her gym clothes – an adorable neon pink matching shorts and bra set, with a baggy band shirt – and left to find Nesta.

“You sure you can trust whoever posted it?” Gwyneth Berdara – her sister’s best friend — huffed out on the stair climber beside her. Elain liked the redhead. She was quiet and friendly, but a firecracker when pushed. She was a good foil for her sister’s outright bitchiness.

“Yeah, I knew he moved out west,” Elain managed out as she worked through her exhaustion. “Apparently, she’s from out there. I found the engagement announcement online.”

“Why bother with an announcement at all with how fast they got married?” Nesta spat. Her anger was rising, Elain could tell by the silver sheen crossing her sisters blue-grey eyes.

“They got engaged on Christmas,” Elain stated. She waited for it to sink in.   

“You broke up in September,” Nesta said finally, voice cold as ice. She slowed to a stop on her machine.

“We did,” Elain nodded, trudging on the stairs.

A beat.

“That motherfucker!” Gwyn shouted.  

The old woman on the treadmill threw her hands up and stalked off mumbling. She’d likely left to find the owner, Cassian, who would likely tell her he had as much control over his wife and her friends as he did the weather.

“Language, Berdara!” the deep voice of their trainer barked as Azriel turned the corner into the room. He stopped by Gwyn’s machine and leaned his tall frame around it, facing Elain. “Who are we calling a motherfucker?”

“Why do you get to say it?” Gwyn complained, shoving at him while still keeping pace. Azriel stepped back and ran an olive-colored hand into his black curls.

“I’m not yelling,” he stated drily. He pointed to the logo on his shirt. “And I work here.”

“Shouldn’t that make you less able to curse?” Gwyn asked, teal eyes narrowing as she glared at their trainer.

“Elain’s ex,” Nesta interrupted from the other side, still seething.

“Why do we care?” Azriel asked, ignoring Gwyn’s question. One dark eyebrow disappeared behind the black curls twisting over his face like shadows as he faced Elain. “You guys broke up over a year ago.”

“Because he lied to me,” Elain grunted, stomping at the machine, as if it were the cause of all of her problems. She was struggling now. It was one thing to think they’d broken up amicably. It was another to admit that he’d lied to her. He’d cheated on her. “He got engaged at Christmas.”

Azriel shrugged, “he moves fast I guess.” Gwyn groaned and slapped the emergency stop on her machine.

“The fucking useless douchecanoe shit stain on the underwear of existence was cheating on Elain the whole time they were together, you thick, beautiful fucking dumbass,” Gwyn snapped, shoving her index finger into Azriel’s chest to emphasize each word.

Elain slowed to a stop; eyes opened impossibly wide. She’d never known anyone outside Cassian or Rhysand to speak to Azriel that way.

Azriel was slack jawed. Gwyn was breathing heavy, finger still shoved into his chest.

“I…” he started. His voice was breathy, low, as if the words were stuck. Hazel eyes bored holes into Gwyn’s baby blues, “am so sorry Elain.”

She did not believe for a single second that he gave any thought to her. His tongue came out to swipe at his lower lip. Gwyn’s hand slowly fisted into the top he was wearing, right over the logo he’d pointed out earlier.

Elain whipped her head around to her sister and mouthed the word “when?” She discretely pointed between the the red head and the bodybuilder.

Nesta shrugged, a wide grin on her face, and shook her head. “Now?” she mouthed back.

“I feel like I’m interrupting something.”

Elain knew that voice. Had heard it all day long.

She looked away from her sister to where Lucien had walked up beside her machine.

Holy fuck.

She’d thought he looked nice earlier, shirtless and in jeans. But now…Lucien in athletic shorts was…almost better than coffee.

“No, we’re good,” Azriel said, not breaking eye contact with Gwyn. “I’ll meet you by the squat rack, Vanserra.” He grabbed Gwyn’s hand on his chest and leaned in. He whispered something in her ear and the red head actually wobbled.

“You good, Gwyn?” Nesta asked slyly.

The woman in question nodded. “Uh yeah, I just…forgot to eat lunch. Gonna go…fix that now,” she said before hopping off the stair climber. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, catch you later Gwyn,” Nesta waved her off.

Elain couldn’t help but notice that while she was talking to Nesta, she kept glancing back to Azriel. She also noticed the slight tilt of his head as he walked off.

“Okay then,” Lucien stared for a moment before shrugging.

“How are you not exhausted?” Elain asked him before she could stop herself.

Lucien grinned, rubbing his shoulder. “I’ve always had really high endurance,” he remarked, then winked at her. “Can’t help but notice you’re here, too.”

“I bounce back quick,” she quipped, unable to hide the little grin tugging at her lips.

“Hurry up, Vanserra!” Azriel called out. Lucien shrugged, nodded acknowledgement at Nesta and sauntered off to the weight racks with the visibly agitated trainer.

“When the fuck did that happen?” Nesta hissed, pointing at Lucien’s back.

Elain followed her finger to where Lucien had started to cool off at Azriel’s instruction.

Elain laughed brightly. “That has never happened. He just helped me out today at the library job. Well, and with Graysen.” She added as an afterthought.

“Helped you with Graysen?” Nesta quirked a brow.

The sisters resumed their climb. Elain wasn’t sure how long they’d be going today, she always just followed Nesta’s lead. Some days it was quick. Some days she couldn’t move when she got home.

“Yeah, he saved me from the whole encounter. Pretended to be with me, bought me a coffee and scone. Gray was starting to look like a tomato before we got out of there,” Elain smiled. Nesta gave her a side-eye.

“Pretended huh?”

“Don’t you start,” Elain warned. She hated her sisters’ meddling. From their attempts to set her up with moody Azriel, to dragging her clubbing all over the tri-county area, to one horrible incident involving a bag of flaming dog shit on an ex’s porch, she was done with letting them get involved in her love life.

“Whatever you say, Elain,” Nesta murmured unconvinced.

They continued their steps in easy quiet, the silence broken only by huffing and groaning. It was shaping up to be an ice bath kind of day, the rate they were going.  

Elain tried to get her mind off the burn in her calves or the way her sweaty hair kept clinging to her face. She kept glancing around the gym, watching the television in the corner playing basketball or trying to look out the windows at the sunset. Her eyes were traitors though. They kept going back to the weights. Where Lucien and Azriel were warming up, directly in front of them.  

Lucien had already taken his shirt off, the blue fabric flung across one of the chairs lining the back wall. His wine-red hair was braided away from his face and knotted at the top. He was wearing gray shorts.

Short, gray, athletic shorts that left nothing to the imagination. His thighs were on full display and Elain, for the first time since she’d heard her sister start calling him it, fullyunderstood why he was called Dump Truck. They were sculpted, thick and led up to an ass she wanted desperately to sink her teeth into.

She didn’t want to look at the front. She was scared to look at the front. The man had to have a shortcoming somewhere.

Nesta whistled. “You think Feyre ever tapped that?” she stage whispered, breaking the very comfortable silence in the most awkward way possible.  

“What? No!” Elain exclaimed. Lucien glanced up. He tossed her a grin and a little wave before readying himself for a pullup. She hoped like hell he couldn’t hear them.

“Oh, come on, they used to spend all that time together. They were practically inseparable,” Nesta drawled out. Had Elain been paying attention, maybe she would’ve seen the sly smirk gracing her otherwise elegant sister’s face.

“She was with Tamlin,” Elain pointed out. Her face twisted into a scowl. “Lucien would’ve never havedone that to Tamlin.”

“She wasn’t always with Tamlin,” Nesta sing-songed. “Remember when he keyed up her car? He told Jurian it was because he caught them in bed together.”

Elain tripped again. She hadn’t heard that. She’d never heard that. “Lucien admitted that?”

“No. Tamlin told Jurian he walked in on the two of them,” Nesta explained slowly. She waved a hand dismissively. “But that is just rumor.”

It better be, she caught herself thinking. She wasn’t sure where the possessiveness came from. Wasn’t sure she didn’t like it though.

“It better be, huh?” Nesta teased, answering her thoughts. Or, what she apparently had let slip through.

Lucien was breaking her concentration. It was his fault. Yes. His fault.

“What is he even doing here?” Elain tried to divert her sister’s attention. She did not want to talk about whatever feelings she may or may not have for Lucien Vanserra.

“Cass swiped him,” Nesta sighed, allowing herself to take the bait. Elain quirked a brow. Her sister pointed to Lucien. “Cassian wanted him on as an investor in the beginning. I put my foot down. Didn’t want Vanserra money if it meant being tied to Eris in any way.”

“Oh.” Elain understood that. Eris and Nesta had a … thing, once before. It didn’t end well. It was just another one of the many ways Lucien had been around forever.

“Yeah, anyway we ran into Lucien the other night at the movies. He was busy telling Feyre about how he couldn’t work out at the office gym anymore and Cass swooped in. Got a new client and Lucien agreed to a small investment in the business.”  

“He…couldn’t work out at the office gym?” Elain asked quietly.

Nesta shook her head. “Didn’t ask why. I just overhead him say he’d kill something or someone if he went back.”

He’d mentioned something earlier, but it would entirely too self-absorbed of her to think he couldn’t work out there anymore because of Graysen.

“Are you ok? Honestly?” Nesta asked, her soft voice barely heard over the whirring of the machine.

Elain sighed. “No. I’m angry,” she admitted, for the first time out loud. “He lied to me. For a very long time, apparently. And he did such a good job of it I never questioned it.”

She could feel the tightness in her chest building. She was angry. At Graysen for lying, at herself for falling for it. Strangely, there was no jealousy. She’d let that part go. Let him go. She wasn’t sure how easy it would be to let the anger go, though.

“He’s just…such a douchecanoe,” she hissed, using Gwyn’s earlier term.  

“Do you want me to stab him?” Nesta asked seriously beside her. “We’ll call Rhys to hide the body.”

Elain blinked at her big sister. Nesta slowly cracked a smile, and they both erupted into a fit of giggles. Tears of some twisted mirth sprung to Elain’s eyes.

“Thank you, Nes,” she smiled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “You know Rhys isn’t mafia.”

“We don’t know that,” Nesta said conspiratorially. She winked one blue-grey eye. “And besides, even if he wasn’t –“

“Which he’s not.”

“—he’d do it anyway. He loves us,” Nesta paused for a second, smirking, “well he loves you. And he loves Feyre and Cassian both enough not to fuck with me.”

“You know one day we’re going to walk in on the two of you in matching pjs, wearing face masks and watching ‘Mean Girls’ together,” Elain sighed out rolling her eyes. She’d never understand her sister’s relationship with their brother-in-law.

“Elain, honey, you know that wouldn’t happen. Rhys and I are far more ‘The Devil Wear’s Prada’ type,” Nesta said in a faux-haughty tone that had Elain laughing again.

This was why she sought out her sister. Nesta was her rock. They lapsed back into a companionable silence, working out beside each other while watching Azriel correct Lucien’s pull up form. She knew Nesta never missed an opportunity to ogle Azriel when he was training – and unfortunately was aware of how good a night Cassian would have. Typically, Elain would be right there watching the tall, dark trainer in utter appreciation as well.

Today though, she took the opportunity to watch the muscles in Lucien’s back work.

She’d spent a large portion of her workday dreaming about those muscles. The way sweat traveled over the striations. The way she imagined they might feel under her fingers. Her core started to ache as she watched his face, reddened from the exertion, twist into a determined grimace. She could easily imagine that same face over her, working hard to keep his own orgasm at bay as he pounded into her –

“Well, you know the best way to get over someone is get under someone else,” her sister interjected, breaking Elain of her reverie.

Oh God, please don’t let her have said something else out loud.

“What?” Elain asked in a daze. Nesta said nothing, just arched one flawless brow and inclined her head towards where Elain had been focused. “I’m already over Graysen! I’m mad at the lies, Nesta!”

“So? Sex is a fantastic way to work off frustration,” Nesta crooned, reaching up to shut off her machine. “Come on, we’re done for the night. Let’s go cool down.”  

**

Elain walked down the hall of her sister’s gym rubbing her neck. Nesta had turned their cool down into a thirty-minute yoga session. She had adopted her husband’s obsession with stretching, and Elain often had to suffer for it.  

Nesta had deposited Elain in her own personal office, pointing out a small wardrobe with a handful of spare clothes. She had said that Cassian had a late meeting with an athletic director from the college looking for a better outfit for conditioning and weight training. As soon as Nesta made her appearance and went over the financials, she’d be free to take her sister out for drinks.

“And hopefully find you a rebound,” Nesta had added with a wink.   

Elain had passably cleaned up. Nesta’s clothes always fit a little loose in the chest, but this dress was a wrap, thankfully.  

“The place is really lovely,” a low, melodic voice drifted around the corner up ahead of her.

Elain blinked for a moment. She vaguely recognized that voice, but she couldn’t quite remember where from.

It had been a long day.

“You said the locker rooms are this way, right?”

“Yes ma’am, let me show you Mrs. Lorde,” Cassian’s booming voice carried, maybe a little louder than necessary. As if he wanted to be heard.

Realization dawned on Elain just as the shadows of two people, one tall and bulky the other petite and lithe, became visible.

Nesta’s office was in the same hall, right past the locker rooms. Nesta had been in a meeting with Cassian and some athletic director.

Elain had been in Nesta’s office.

Oh shit, Cassian was trying to warn her.

Oh fuck…Mrs. Lorde.

Elain had glossed over it in the woman’s bio, the little tidbit of information irrelevant as she was too busy hunting for evidence of Graysen’s infidelity. But it was coming back to her now

All the photographs of smiling cheerleaders – smiling college cheerleaders.

Cora Lorde was the athletic director of the cheer department at the local college.

Cora was Graysen’s wife who seemingly had no idea her husband had been leading a double life.

Cora was walking down the hallway that very second to look at the locker rooms.  

She saw a foot round in the corner and ducked into the nearest door.

Straight into said locker room.

Someone else was in there, too. She was vaguely aware of hearing the shower running as panic overtook her hearing.

She squeaked for just a moment and survey the room for the best hiding spot. As she wasn’t flexible enough to fold herself into the lockers, the shower stalls were really the only place available. Surely the woman wouldn’t want to check the conditions of the stalls.

She ran to the closest shower stall door, shoved it open just enough to slide into and quickly closed it, throwing the lock into place. She released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She was in the clear.  

She kept her eyes on the door and threw her hands out behind her. She intended to back into the corner of the stall, hug the wall and wait for trouble to pass.

Only, her hands didn’t hit the cold tile she was expecting. Confused, Elain spread her fingers along the surface. It was hard and wet and warm…and hairy.

“Fuck me,” she moaned. This was not her fucking day.  

“If you insist,” the fleshy, hairy wall behind her murmured in a familiar, smoky voice.

Great. She’d ran into the wrong locker room.

Elain twisted around, coming face to chest with Lucien, again. She meant to tell him to keep his hands to himself, or to scream, or do something. Instead, she stared.

And stared.

Lucien was naked. Completely naked, all that glorious golden skin on display and so close if she stuck out her tongue she could trail it along his chest like she’d been dreaming about all day. He was also wet, water droplets running the length of that powerful body. His broad shoulders blocked the spray from hitting her directly. His hair was loose and drenched.

Elain was in danger.  

“As fascinating as this is, I don’t think for one second you’re in here to actually fuck me, Elain,” Lucien said. This close she could see his chest vibrate with his words.

It caused a small stream of water to dislodge from the dip of his collarbone. Elain’s brain, which was already working at half capacity, had finally short circuited the second she realized she was standing in the stall with a naked Lucien fucking Vanserra.

She didn’t hear what he said. Couldn’t hear anything. All of her senses, all of her focus was on that single stream of water flowing down, over his chest into the dips and ridges of his abs, down further until it got lost in the line of red hair trailing down to the edge of what could only be described as the most beautiful dick she’d ever seen.

Lucien’s dick.

Lucien’s very erect dick.

Lucien Vanserra’s very erect, very large dick that was an inch from touching her hand.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. Elain’s legs chose that moment to finally give out, too.

Strong hands shot out to grab her arms, steadying her. He immediately angled his hips backwards to put space between them. Not that it did much good in such a small stall.

“Never had that reaction before,” Lucien chuckled nervously. He cocked his head. “Are you good?”

No, she wasn’t good. Right now she couldn’t decide if she was doing great or she was delusional. How is it that someone that handsome, that kind, that…fucking wonderful also had a dick like that. The universe was not fair.

She couldn’t look away from it. Even though Lucien was trying to angle it away. She felt like a creep, a drooling pathetic creep but … hot damn.

“You’re going to give me a complex, Elain,” Lucien joked shyly. Elain nodded.

“A god-complex,” she whispered reverently. How long had it been since she’d been with anyone? It was Graysen she remembered, at least two months before the breakup.

“Did you just call my cock a god, Elain?” Lucien said astonished. His large hands shook her shoulders gently, breaking her line of sight with his member. Her brown eyes immediately snapped to his. He looked equal parts amused and concerned.

Elain parted her lips, she meant to reply. Honestly, she did. But she heard those familiar voices carrying into the locker room. She jerked around, out of Lucien’s hands and peered down. The shower door would hide their bodies…but not their feet. There was a gap about a foot wide, and this was the first stall in the locker room. If anyone looked, they’d see two sets of feet.

“What is going—”

Elain cut Lucien off by jumping him. Literally.

She scrambled up his tall body, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and locking her feet together behind his waist. Lucien’s hands darted to thighs to keep her steady. He opened his mouth again and Elain began to shake her head viciously.

“COVER YOUR JUNK!” Cassian bellowed. “LADY COMING IN.”  

Both of them whipped their heads to the door. Lucien angled his body, trying to keep the water from hitting Elain too badly.  

“You sure you want to see in here? We try to keep it looking decent, but the guys can be animals. As you can see both rooms are roughly the same set up,” Cassian’s voice, back to a normal level, still carried as he spoke.  

“You said this room had an extra ice bath?” Cora’s voice floated in. Their footsteps were louder, closer. They were standing just a few feet away.   

Lucien’s eyes went wide in understanding. He adjusted his grip on her, keeping her flush against him. She dug her fingers into his shoulders.  

“Yes ma’am, right this way,” Cassian continued, footsteps carrying him right past the shower stall.

Elain trembled, burying her head in Lucien’s neck. A large, strong hand came up to rub soothingly on her back.

“I don’t have too much longer,” Cora said. Cassian’s footsteps halted. “But I wanted to see, you said this room had a sauna but the women’s doesn’t?”

“Not exactly. It’s a co-ed sauna,” Cassian explained. “Both locker rooms exit into a short hall that leads either to the sauna or the pool.”

“Oh! I understand now! How fantastic!” Cora exclaimed. Elain heard her clap her hands again. “I hate to rush you, Mr. Marcellus but I do need to get out of here.”

“Of course! This way, please.”

Elain held her breath as their footsteps retreated, their voices getting quieter.    

“You good?” Lucien whispered in her ear. She shook her head, finally releasing her breath but not raising from his neck.  “Want to get down?” A pause. Then she shook her head again. He smelled good. She wanted to stay there.

If she got down, she’d have to face the fact he was naked. That she very much liked that he was naked. That for some reason the universe decided she would be the pincushion they’d poke today, and all she wanted was to be held.  

Then preferably held down and fucked by that big, beautiful cock nestled under her ass right now.

So, no. She didn’t want to get down.

“To be honest,” Lucien began to murmur, one hand still running the length of her spine while the other was wrapped around her lower back for support, “I thought I’d have to at least take you on a date before I got you to shower with me.”

Elain looked up cautiously from his neck. Chocolate brown eyes met deep russet. He was smiling. “Y…you thought about taking me on a date?” she asked. Her brain was still mush, still struggling to catch up.

“Elain,” he said her name slowly, reverently. She liked the way his lips moved with the syllables, the way his tongue flicked his teeth on the ‘l’. “I’ve wanted you since the day Jurian threw you in that pool.”

Wait…what?

“Wait…what?” she whispered. Lucien’s responding grin was nothing short of foxlike.  

“I’ve been crazy about you, Elain Archeron, since the moment I wrapped my shirt around you. It was the first time you smiled at me. Just me. I’ve been a goner since. And when I saw you in it again today…” he groaned. She felt it as it bubbled up his chest.

“I smiled at you before that,” she whispered again, afraid if she spoke any louder, she’d wake up from this dream.

“Not like that. Not like I was something…special. The only goddamn man in the room. Not like I was your hero,” he rasped out. He was struggling with something. Elain realized she’d been subconsciously rocking her hips against him in the tiniest motion.

“I already told you that you were,” she smiled, rocking her hips gently once again. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Lucien shut his eyes, a muscle in his jaw feathering. He was barely hanging on. “You kept getting back with Lorde.”

Elain’s heart skipped. She brought her small, calloused hand to his chin and tilted it down until he opened his eyes. She hoped to convey everything in her look because words were beyond her. “I’m not with him now.”

“No…you’re not.” Lucien’s eyes fell to her lips, barely a breath separating them.

Elain held his chin, her thumb coming up to caress his bottom lip. “I would’ve chose you,” she breathed against his lips. “Had you said something, Lucien, I would’ve been yours.”

“Elain…” he breathed her name against her lips, the feel of it somehow more erotic than if he had kissed her. His chest was heaving with his breaths, so deep and uneven.

She leaned in, as close as she could without touching. “What are you going to do now?”

Lucien answered by kissing her softly, barely a brush against her lips. It sent lightning down her spine all the same. “I’m going to do exactly what you asked…if you’ll let me.”

“What I asked?” She was breathless, delirious. Her hips still rocked gently into him, his hands now guiding the movement. When had they gotten there?  

“When you ran in here…now sweet thing, can you remember what you said?” Lucien teased, voice barely more than a rasp. A smile tugged at the corners of those lips.

She nodded. Oh, she remembered.

Lucien tsked, tapping her thigh with one hand in warning. “Words, please.”

“Fuck me,” Elain demanded, loudly.

“With pleasure,” he growled.

It was an unleashing. Lucien turned, slamming her against the back wall, water now spraying down on the both of them. His mouth slanted over hers, full lips sucking her bottom between the two. She opened for him, letting him deepen the kiss, his tongue claiming her mouth for its own.

He pinned her against the wall with his hips as his hands roamed her bare skin, pulling and tugging her dress open to give him more to touch. One hand ran the length of her body, skimming the side of her breast, her neck, her ear before delving into her golden brown locks and yanking her head back so his lips could wrap around her pulse and bite.  One calloused hand slipped under the fabric of her dress, sliding up and up her thigh until it rested on the curve of her ass, kneading the the flesh there.

“Sweetheart…where are your panties?” He breathed against her neck, tongue slipping out to lick a long stripe up to her ear.

Her giggle turned to a moan. “I…I don’t wear them to the gym.”

Lucien’s answering groan was nothing short of pornographic. He wrapped his large hand around the sweep of her ass cheek, squeezing and spreading while his pelvis ground into her. She could feel that cock, now somehow sandwiched between them. She’d been too delirious to know how it had gotten there. Until that moment her hands had barely left his shoulders or left the tangle of his long red hair.

She had to feel him. Had to touch him. The urge was overwhelming.

She reached down, fingertips skimming the top of the rounded head of his cock. He was weeping at the slit. She gathered the liquid with her index finger and used it as lubrication, rubbing it around the sensitive head. The tip alone was large, the length of him thick and long. She was fascinated with the silky, hard feel of him.

Elain relished in the strangled cry Lucien gave into her neck as his mouth worked her pulse there. She wrapped him in her hand and began to pump. He jerked, once, twice in her hand. She squeezed a bit tighter, made another pass around the top when his larger hand snaked between them and stopped her. He gently pried her hand off him.

“I’m not going to last,” he breathed heavily next to her temple, “all day…all my fucking life I’ve been dreaming of this. There’s no way … I won’t last if you keep on.” He began to lower her feet to the tiled floor.

One calloused hand came up to cradle her cheek, running his thumb along her jaw. The other ripped the last tie holding her dress together. The dress finally fluttered open, revealing her sun kissed skin and total lack of undergarments.

Lucien groaned. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he growled. He bent down under the spray, taking one peaked nipple in his mouth, nipping and sucking. The other he took in his hand, kneading and pulling at the flesh until Elain whimpered.  

She reached for him, but he angled his hips away again. “Nuh-uh,” he mouthed around her breast. He took one long, biting suck before pulling off with a pop. “Give him some time to cool off before I embarrass myself, sweetheart.” He moved his head to her other breast. “Give me some time to appreciate these gorgeous tits, huh?”

She nodded, bringing her hands up to tangle in his hair, nudging his head back towards his intended goal.  

Taking her lead, Lucien’s mouth descended on her previously neglected breast and went to work keying her up. He alternated between flicking the nipple with his tongue, nibbling at the soft flesh, or downright sucking it. His hands stroked down her sides, skimming her curves, nails grazing as he worked up and down. The sensations were intense, overwhelming. She’d never come from nipple stimulation alone, but…fuck.  

One hand slipped between her legs, long fingers slipping between her folds. The second his finger hit the slick of her his head pulled away from her chest and came to rest against her forehead.

“You are so fucking wet,” he moaned, eyes shut tight. “Is that for me?”

“No,” she lied breathlessly. “Watching Azriel work out got me all hot and bothered.”

“Yeah?” he asked, cracking open his eyes. His fingers didn’t stop their slow movements. Up and down the seam of her, not once touching her clit or her opening, carefully avoiding where she wanted him most. “You’re such a pretty little liar.”

“What makes you think I’m lying?” she tried to sound offended, but his teasing fingers stole her resolve.

“Azriel wasn’t at the library, Elain,” he chuckled darkly, his eyes boring into hers. “I saw how you kept looking at me when I was working.”

“How…how was I looking at you?” Her breath hitched. She tried to move, twist her hips or grind or do anything to get him to touch her where she wanted. She pulled his hair, raked her nails along his skin, but he was steady. Undeterred.

He dipped his head down to the curve of her ear and whispered. “Like you were in that weight room. Like I was a piece of fresh meat.”

“Felt…objectified, did you?” she whined. He pinned her hips back against the tiled wall with his free hand. Lucien nodded sardonically, parting his lips to no doubt give some asshole response. “Want to know a secret?” she interrupted him, voice shaking.

She leaned up as close as he allowed her, her lips grazing his jaw. She’d never been good at dirty talk. Graysen had hated it. She had no idea if Lucien would find this hot or tell her to shut up. “I had to take my panties off in my car after the coffee shop.” He went still, breath frozen in his chest. “I’ve been so wet for you all day, Lucien, that it’s been rubbing me raw,” she moaned, laying it on a little thick but he seemed too far gone to notice.

She took a deep breath and nipped at his jaw. “So won’t you please stop with the teasing and just fuck me already?”   

Lucien said nothing. He trembled in her arms for a moment, as if to collect himself. He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes again. She could’ve sworn there was literal fire staring back at her. In one swift movement, with no warning, Lucien filled her with his long middle finger. His pointer and ring finger held her open while he twisted slightly, crooking that middle finger and dragging it down inside her.

Elain nearly screamed. He quickly covered her mouth with his own, swallowing the sound. His tongue swept in, licking the length of her mouth while his finger pistoned in and out, dragging down with each thrust. It was incredible, but she needed more. Felt so selfish that she needed more.

She wiggled her butt and Lucien obliged, adding another finger, stretching her deliciously. She could feel how tight she was around his fingers; how great the stretch was. She knotted her fingers in his hair, tugging, keeping him against her.

He'd moved in closer, no longer angling himself away. He ground his cock against her hip for just a bit of his own relief as his fingers dragged her closer and closer to orgasm. She reached again for him, and he grabbed her hand, pinning it over her head, lacing their fingers together. Lucien shook his head against her, a clear no. He delved his tongue back in her mouth.

Elain moaned obscenely as he began to fuck her mouth in time with the fingers fucking her cunt. He devoured it, drinking in her sounds like a dying man. Just as she began to tremble, that weight in her core building and building, Lucien thrust in a third finger, scissoring the three a bit, stretching her beyond anything any man had ever done. He was readying her for his cock, she realized.  She was almost a goner right then with that thought.

Then Lucien ground the heel of his hand against her swollen clit as he thrust those fingers one last time. Her released slammed into her harder than she’d ever felt before. She saw stars. Every muscle in her body contracted, her abs caving in on themselves, her legs shaking uncontrollably. She may have screamed. She’d opened her mouth but either no sound come out, or the pounding of her heart in her ears was so loud she could hear nothing else.

Lucien hauled her against him, holding her tight between him and the wall, stroking her sides in soothing gestures as she started to come down.

“You with me?” he laughed shit-eating grin spread across that handsome face.

Elain nodded deliriously. “H-holy shit. Holy fucking shit. I’ve never … never…” she trailed off, head shaking, legs still trembling. Lucien laughed again, the sound the sweetest thing she’d ever heard.

“Should I stop?” he murmured before he kissed her gently one more time.

Elain shook her head viciously. “I’ll kill you,” she hissed, nails digging into his shoulders. “If you fucking stop now, Lucien Vanserra, I will kill you.”    

Lucien erupted in laughter beside her, his whole body shaking. The movement rocked through her as well, and Elain was acutely aware of him still holding her up and open. He had been lining up his cock against her entrance, the tip she had been playing with gliding through her slick. Now, he was holding back. She tilted forward a bit, dragging her still quivering cunt over the head.

“I don’t have a condom, Elain,” he whispered tightly, moving his hips so his cock ground into her slickness broadside, giving her delicious friction. “I am clean though. Haven’t…haven’t in a while, and I’ve been checked since.”

“I’m on birth control,” she said quickly. “I get checked once a year. I’m good.” She was going to die if he didn’t get inside her.

Lucien grinned, lining them up, leaning down to take her mouth in his as he slammed home with one powerful stroke.

Oh fuck…

Oh fuck…

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, ARE YOU SERIOUSLY FUCKING IN MY LOCKER ROOM RIGHT NOW?” Cassian voice thundered through the locker room.

Elain froze up, her pussy clamping down so hard on Lucien’s cock they both had to bite the other to keep from screaming. One hand shot passed her head to steady them as Lucien’s legs began to shake.  

What did she do to the universe? Was she a puppy killer in a past life? Did she burn down a village full of orphans? Had she stepped on too many cracks and her dead mother was torturing her from beyond the grave?

“I’m running a gym, not a goddamn whorehouse, Azriel Singer!” Cassian swore, walking passed their stall. “Vanserra’s showering in here for fuck’s sake.”

“LUCIEN WAS LISTENING?” a high-pitched voice squealed from somewhere further down.

No…no way. There was no fucking way that this was actually happening.

Elain knew that voice.

She bit Lucien’s shoulder harder to keep from making noise. Her body trembled with silent laughter, sending vibrations through her core, which felt so…fucking…good. She just couldn’t enjoy it. Lucien made a small, strangled sound as his hips seemed to involuntarily jerk forward. She felt his cock jump, his body tense and his release fill her.

That fucker just orgasmed.  

She tried to look at him, but he was hiding his face in her neck. She shoved at him. He raised up sheepishly, golden skin nearly as red as his hair. A rush of fluid escaped her as he gently pulled out but didn’t set her down. I am so sorry, he mouthed.

“I didn’t know shit!” he yelled, voice cracking. Elain held on tight, trying her hardest to fight off a grin. Lucien looked like he was slowly losing it.    

“Get out Cassian,” she heard Azriel growl. “No one’s going anywhere with you standing in here.”

A low huff. “Works for me, just stop fucking in my gym!”

“We’ll stop when you stop,” she heard Azriel yell as footsteps retreated out of the locker room. Elain sighed, slumping against Lucien. Poor Lucien, who was still trying to avoid eye contact.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Azriel called out again.

She froze again, inadvertently clawing Lucien once more. His eyes finally met hers. “The fuck you mean?” Lucien asked for her, just as freaked as she was.

“You’re pretty loud, Elain,” the woman said with a laugh.

Elain and Lucien untangled from each other. Lucien wrapped a towel around his waist, his still flagging cock still large enough to tent the fabric. Elain wrapped her wet dress back around her, long enough she figured until she could reach the towel rack.

They stepped out of the stall.

Azriel and Gwyn were standing there, both with mussed hair and angry red marks, sharing satisfied smiles. Azriel still had the rope of one of the spa robes tied around his wrist. “Looks like you had fun,” Lucien remarked, no sign of the embarrassed man from a moment before.

Azriel’s grin threatened to split his face. Gwyn just brushed her leggings off, a little self-satisfied smirk playing on her own face.  

Elain couldn’t say anything.

She was suddenly hyperaware of everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes. Lucien being quick off the mark. Her own powerful orgasm – which apparently, she was screaming—and the fact she used Azriel’s name while Lucien had his fingers on her pussy.

Yup. She had to have been a puppy killer in a past life. She wondered if she passed out right now, if everyone would forget they heard anything at all.

“It’s totally cool, Elain,” Gwyn laughed, laying a delicate hand on her partner’s shoulder. “Azriel makes me horny all the time.”

“I’m going to die now,” she moaned. Lucien wrapped an arm around her, possessively, pulling her into his side. It was comforting.

“Nah, don’t be embarrassed,” Azriel said in a near sickly sweet tone. He was such an ass when he wanted to be. “It was a good line.”

“How come we didn’t hear you?” Lucien asked, trying to throw attention off of them. His face was slowly returning to its normal hue.

“I gagged him,” Gwyn stated, matter of fact, shrugging her thin shoulders. “And having a twin sister constantly around means you learn to be quiet.”

Elain and Lucien just stared in confusion. She couldn’t speak for Lucien, but Elain just had so many questions. She opened and closed her mouth a few times. She felt like a fish gasping for air, but she just couldn’t make the words come out.

“We were fucking in front of the security cameras,” Azriel answered their silent question. He pointed to the other end of the locker room. “There’s a camera on the storage room on the other side of the lockers. We’ve got equipment in there there Cass wants surveilled, so no…we aren’t pervs with cameras in the showers. It’s not even really in the locker room.”

Elain cocked her head. Honest to God that thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. “Why in front of the cameras?” Lucien asked for her, pulling her in a little closer.  

“He ate your sister out on my desk last week,” Azriel stated plainly, turning to point at Gwyn. “She just fucked me on a new machine he has to assemble.”

“You’re evil,” Lucien chuckled. “But we owe you one.”

Azriel nodded. “I want Eris’s address.”

All three heads turned to Azriel. Even Gwyn looked at him skeptically. “Why for?” she was the one who asked. Lucien quirked a brow, awaiting the answer as well.

Azriel shrugged. “He pisses me off.”

Elain and Gwyn traded incredulous looks. Gwyn opened her mouth, no doubt to tell her partner how stupid he sounded, when Lucien began to nod. “Totally reasonable,” he muttered approvingly. “I’ll text it to you.”  

“Good man,” Azriel tugged at Gwyn’s hand. “Round two?” Gwyn’s answer was a smirk that could only be described as devious.

“Cassian and Nesta are going out for drinks,” Elain offered as she wrapped her arm around Lucien’s waist.

“Fuck yes,” Az said laughing, dragging a giggling Gwyn out of the locker room.

Elain turned to Lucien, “so…”

“I was already so hyped up, and you were so tight – oh my god Elain I’ve never in my life … and then you laughed. Do you have any idea what that feels like when you laugh?” Lucien began rambling. His eyes were wild, and the pink began to creep up his neck. “I’ve never done that before…I swear I –”

“Lucien!” Elain finally shouted, grabbing him by his chin once again. She gently urged him to look at her. “It’s ok. Just…what now?”

Lucien stepped closer, until she had to tilt her head back to see him. He smiled sheepishly. “I meant what I said. I’m crazy about you, Elain.”

“And I meant what I said,” she said breathlessly. “I really do think you’re my hero.”

“Come home with me?” Lucien urged, hugging her to his mostly naked body. “Let me make it up to you.”  

“For the night?”  

“Forever.”        

[gaybd1]

pls allow me to make a long life update ramble here bc im sick of irl people not understanding at all

I feel like I have a feel disconnected points to make

People like me aren’t meant to get bachelor’a degrees and we’re DAMN SURE not meant to get master’s

I’m 1000% just in survival mode right now and there’s theoretically a month left to go but idek if I’ll make it that long tbh

It has taken me YEARS to figure out a healthy/sustainable work-life balance that goes with my executive dysfunction but that’s NOT POSSIBLE working full time AND doing a degree

I’ve been feeling guilty for resting at all lately (and probably should) but yet if I don’t my health suffers majorly

It has always been hard for me to get simple things done, but now I can’t even THINK about simple necessary errands like walking to the supermarket or going to get a cell phone number or updating shit at the bank because ALL my energy goes to keeping me and my dog alive, keeping a job, and trying to stay in this program

I have delayed my transition by YEARS to pay for all this which was definitely the wrong call ughhhhh

I worked SO hard all of K-12 to get into a good university, when it came down to it didn’t even want to go, was too depressed to apply to hardly any, chose my best option still not knowing what I wanted to do but forced into it and forced to take out all of these loans when I didn’t even know what they meant.

Ended up never dealing with audhd shit, trauma shit, didn’t know what I was doing with my life, tried to get jobs to pay for school but couldn’t handle class and jobs at the same time so got more depressed until I stopped going to classes altogether and got kicked out

That would have been great for me tbh but I still didn’t know what else to do so I begged them to let me back in which they did and I ended up barely graduating with some pointless major I just chose to get me a degree. And also $80k of student debt I had no way to even comprehend knowing how to use

Didn’t know what to do after that either so I ended up in retail for a couple years before I got a random rare opportunity to get me out of there and doing what I always wanted

Well. I felt like I needed to make up for lost time degree-wise and ended up basically begging myself into this half-shitty program that culminates in this masters. I applied maybe five years ago, waited a little over two to start until I had money to pay for it (this is after fleeing the US and the 80k lmao) and somehow killed the first year of it.

I took another year and a half off trying to figure out the rest of the money which I eventually did and that’s how we end up here. I will hopefully have the degree in October but will still be paying for it the rest of the school year rip

So financially this sacrifice is obviously huge and on one hand I never thought I’d be able to do it so yay me and on the other hand I have NOT been able to pursue v v important trans stuff which I notice and deal with eVERY GODDAmn day thanks AND I will also probably not be able to make my every-18-month visit home next summer with my family which also gODDAMN SUCKS because family was EVERYTHING to me growing up and they’ve all forgotten it and probably think I have too but I miss those mfers so much and they would never buy a flight to come see me so.

ANYWAY yeah in undergrad I could NOT do a job and school at the same time so I’ve been proud of being able to handle it this time around but the last fourish months of this program are so intense and I am NOT handling it

Like I have done SO WELL up to now so I feel like I just GOTTA keep going but it’s SO HARD and I’m TOO STUPID and I’ve been told my whole life I’m not meant for higher education and now BOY DO I KNOW IT

I’m just trying to keep going. I order food and groceries to my house. I’m putting off super important errands and appointments as long as I can because I JUST CANT GET THERE I CANNOT WASTE SPOONS ON CELL PHONE PLANS RIGHT NOW I’m just trying to stay alive holy shit

I hate feeling so incompetent in my personal life especially because I’ve always put my professional life first out of like. Fear of losing it. and I KNOW this “laziness” is justified bc I’m spread so thin AND have executive dysfunction and a chronic illness but holy shit it still feels bad scoob. So fucking bad.

I think what I need to do is arrange time off work just to get this all sorted and finished but I’ve literally never taken a day off in my life so I’d feel bad and have MORE anxiety figuring out how to do it lololol ahhhhhhhh

[byunbhyunz]

V - “Can you stop playing connect the dots with my freckles?"

Pairing: Taehyung/Reader

Genre: fluff, boyfriend!Taehyung

Word count: 608

Prompt: “Can you stop playing connect the dots with my freckles?”

Despite the air con blasting on maximum level, you felt heatwaves running through your body. It didn’t help a bit that Taehyung was pressed up to you, while the both of you lay on the couch. You mumbled something about hating hot summer days like this and wanting to eat ice cream and jump into a pool of icy water, but not really wanting to move your body. He just held you closer to his body, not minding that your bodies were burning. His arms circled around your waist.

“Are you really planning on killing me, Tae?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, my love can’t kill you.” He pressed a feather light kiss on your bare shoulder, and you shivered. Sometimes you wondered, how can someone be as clingy as him, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“But the heat can.”

“It won’t. I��ll fight it for you.”

You snickered as he pressed another kiss on you skin, and by the third one, you noticed the pattern he was following.

On some days, you were convinced that he loved the freckles on your shoulders and back than anything else in the world. When you left them free with low cut tops and shirts, he often traced them with his fingers; a lot of the times he did it absentmindedly.

One time, he told you they reminded him of the universe and the stars, and he could draw any constellation out of them. You on the other hand, didn’t pay much attention to them. They were just freckles, but since Taehyung loved them so much, you let him do whatever he wanted.

A sigh left your lips when he peeled himself off of you. The heat decreased just a little, but you also missed his presence next to you.

However, his absence didn’t last too long, only mere minutes. You heard him shuffle around the room, rummaging on the table and the bookshelves.

“Need some help?”

“No, I already found it.”

“What?”

“I think I saw a new constellation on you, but I’m not sure if I’m right.”

You hummed in agreement, since you knew what it meant for you. He will draw soft lines on you with a pen and take some pictures of it. And if you refuse to let him, he will pull his whole arsenal of cuteness out and try each of them on you, starting with a pouty face and ending with whining and begging you in a baby-like voice. So, this time, you simply rolled on your stomach and pulled the strings of your top down, so he could easily access your freckles.

His quiet laugh was music to your ears, as he climbed on top of you, and carefully sat on your lower back. It wasn’t too comfortable, but somehow his weight on you made you feel safer. Even the heat stopped feeling too suffocating.

Taehyung touched you with soft and delicate fingers, and pressed a kiss on both of your shoulder blades before he started to work. The tip of the pen was a little cold. You closed your eyes in content, letting him get lost in his drawing.

“Can you stop playing connect the dots with my freckles?” You asked in a mocking tone after a while, knowing that he would cutely whine and probably hug you. You gave up on feeling cooler, and just wanted his affection. So he gave it to you.

Later that day, when you went to take a shower in the middle of the night, your voice rang through the apartment, several octaves higher than you usually sounded:

“Taehyung! You used permanent marker on me?”

[teacasket]

the 1

genre: angst au: high school au, college au warnings: swearing word count: 0.4k   pairing: gn!reader x lee minho song: the 1 by taylor swift mini series: cruel summer // august // betty // cardigan // the 1 a/n: the reader in this is not the same reader as cruel summer and august. this reader is the same reader in betty and cardigan.

BUT IT WOULD’VE BEEN FUN

Drinking rosé after midnight is never a good idea, but if Minho is drinking, it only feels appropriate you do as well. Your phone buzzes with dozens of messages, and you watch the screen light up with each successive one. You should block him—and you will—but right now, the schadenfreude is too good to pass up.

I’m sorry.

I miss you so, so much.

You’re the only one for me.

An old movie plays on the TV, the whispers of dialogue the only noise in the apartment. Loud bass thumps from somewhere in the building, and through the open window come raucous screams and chatter. You sip from your mug and wrap the blanket tighter around your shoulders. Despite the solitude, you’ve never felt less lonely.

You remember senior year of high school, pretending you were happy when remorse gnawed your insides clean. The parties you attended with a stranger’s arm around you, the poisoned kisses that graced your lips. That feeling of sinking into your own grave.

Then came freshman year of university. Distance gave you an excuse to leave the dying embers of the relationship in the rain, forgotten in favor of “class” and “studying,” code words for “rediscovery.” Snack runs with your new friends and university games breathed life back into you.

Finally, in the summer before your second year, you broke up with Minho. Over the phone because he didn’t deserve to see you in-person. It was easier than you thought. When he tried to plead, you hung up and started planning a party because if there’s one thing you know how to do, it’s throw a great fucking party, especially when you have a valid reason.

Your phone vibrates with an incoming call from Minho, and you let it ring, let it go to voicemail. You’ll delete it in the morning. Or maybe your voicemail will fill up and you’ll have to delete fifty of them. When you’re forced to listen to the first second of each one, you’ll think back to a time before it all went wrong. There were some genuinely good moments, like when you had a picnic on the roof of his car and watched the sunrise together.

It hurts to think about. Two lovely years, two wasted ones. A zero-sum outcome on paper but a drawn-out tragedy in reality. If he hadn’t ruined everything, you and Minho could have been something beautiful.

But he did, and now one of you is making drunken calls to beg for forgiveness.

The floor above you thunders with footsteps and laughter, and a group of friends walking down the hallway talk amongst themselves, their voices echoing throughout the premises. The saxophone player in the next building over begins practicing their instrument.

You power off your phone and take another sip of rosé. Sweet, just the way you like it.

IF YOU WOULD’VE BEEN THE ONE.

a/n part two: this is the end of the mini series, for real this time! thank you all for reading, and i hope you look forward to my future works. <3

[bakerstreethound]

I've been wanting to tell you this since yesterday afternoon.... 👌 I beg Tumblr doesn't eat my ask but, listen Dr. Stephen Strange, not the super sorcerer! , Just stephen with Taylor's song. You're losing me. He being a doctor and not noticing her heart is not beating the same for him

Hey! Your ask thankfully didn't get eaten! So, I'm not much of a Swiftie (plz don't eat me) but I did my best to incorporate the essence of the song into this story and it's written mostly from Stephen's pov. There's a lot of angst involved and little to no comfort.

One Half of a Broken Heart

Stephen comes to the realization that your feelings don't run as deep as his so he learns to cope and become a better person for himself.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, repost, copy, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03) Graphic by @firefly-graphics Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

We thought a cure would come through in time, now, I fear it won't

Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light

Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time

******

The letter in his hands burns, evaporating in a plume of smoke and cinders. However hard he tried, the words on the page are seared into his skull, forever imprinted on his heart. How he wishes he could forget but there’s not a chance. He should have known this would happen, perhaps could have predicted it, but not so soon.

Looking back, he hasn't felt a pain in his chest surfacing this bad in many years. Perhaps he never should have struck up that conversation with you at the party at Karmar Taj Wong drug him to countless times, yet the conversations you had about your studies fascinated him, your willingness to put up with Wong and his antics as you calmly explained to him he reshelved the books incorrectly. 

“He’s not so bad,” you told him as you sipped on your drink. “He starts to grow on you after a while.” 

“Tell me about it,” Stephen huffed in response, a smile had begun to form. When was the last time he smiled? He couldn’t recall. You intrigued him, fascinated him became his rock and now this was all you left him? 

Let me go, Stephen, I’m not what you’re looking for. We were never more than what happened last summer. I’m sorry it had to be this way. Remember me fondly as you can. Don’t worry about me, I’ll take care of myself. I wish you nothing but the best. You know I bled countless times for you, you need to let me go. I’m sorry it had to be this way. xxx.

But your shadow remained, haunting him bit by bit, even as he stared into the fireplace, watching the letter burn. Would he regret doing so?

You are nothing but a memory in his mind now, perhaps one of the better ones. He was a fool to think he could be enough for you. Yet, you rescued him in his darkest time, the unrequited love tugging him to you as a source of comfort. As with life people came and went.

Maybe the universe had bigger plans for him and he sighed, Cloaky settling on his shoulders with a flick of his finger. Cloaky still smelled faintly like you, almost an agonizing goodbye that you truly weren’t there with him anymore.

Cloaky’s collar reached up, caressing his cheek for a semblance of comfort, but only then did he realize the quiet tears slipping from his eyes. He slipped further and further, his heart burning at the realization crashing back to him. Was he so alone? For now, but he had Wong and a universe to care after. 

He took a few breaths, gripping the sides of his armchair to steady himself as he gazed into the fireplace, the hot flames licking his cheek. He can’t find the strength to move. 

How could he? You mattered so much to him and now in this time of sorrow, he knew it was a losing game all alone. You made your choice, he made his to love you from afar even if you didn’t choose him. You left your imprint on his heart and there he would carry you.

He thought he knew what he had until it was gone, yet with you it’s different. You mattered and he had taken everything for granted, your kindness, your forgiveness, your friendship. 

The tears fell harder this time, throat stuck in a silent scream as he flung himself on his bed, curling up into a ball, letting the emotions fall. It hurt how he knew he wasn’t enough for you, giving you what you needed, but he could pull himself out of this mess, there was still hope for him. Now, it didn’t feel like it at the moment, but he wouldn't give up.

That’s the trap of falling for someone who doesn't feel the same watching them walk away or leave, carrying a shattered bit of your heart you can’t replace.

It was too late for him to say anything, but under the tears, under the comfort of Cloaky, he regained his strength day by day, week by week, even when he saw glimpses of you next to him, felt you whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

He knew it was nothing but a figment of his mind, some shattered piece of you following him, his guardian angel a reminder of what he lost encouraging him to find his future. For his heart didn’t beat for you any longer. 

******

Stop, you're losing me

I can't find a pulse, my heart won't start anymore

******

[amjustagirl]

Hogwarts AU (Haikyuu!)

feat. Tsukkishima Kei 

requested for by @animestheticz (hope you enjoy it bb!) 

Previously:

Miya Atsumu. Miya Osamu. Kita Shinsuke. Kuroo Tetsuro.

Masterlist link here

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff

Wordcount: 2k

Genre / Pairings: Fluff, Hogwarts AU, Tsukkishima / Reader

A/N: Any other characters you’d like to see? Send me an ask! 

(happy to do any characters other than Kenma / Hinata / Tendo - I don’t trust myself to do them justice!)

Oh and this is just shameless advertisement for my other fic - but I’m also writing a multi chapter fic based off Your Name / Kimi No Nawa featuring Akaashi Keiji (i.e. a bodyswap AU featuring our favourite Tokyo pretty boy). Check it out here!

——————————————————————

“P-please? Just this once?’ Yachi begs, fingers gripping your sleeve like a vice. 

You’re sorely tempted to refuse her ridiculous request, but you can’t bring yourself to. This is Yachi Hitoka, your best friend, though currently she’s a nervous wreck fretting over her first date with Yamaguchi Tadashi. The sweet, freckled Hufflepuff chaser has finally worked up the courage to act on his painfully obvious crush on Yachi - both veritable balls of sunshine, so sweet and anxious and caring that you can’t imagine a better match. 

So you don’t understand why on earth you’re being asked to tag along on a double date with one Tsukkishima Kei. 

It’s not that you dislike the guy – far from it. You’ve had a crush on him yourself ever since Yachi started hanging around Yamaguchi in your third year, sucking you and Tsukkishima have been sucked into their orbit, reluctant moons revolving around twin suns. But you’ve tucked it away since Tsukkishima doesn’t seem to have an interest in anyone at all – in fact, half the time his snarky replies and cold silences make you think he barely tolerates Yamaguchi as a friend, let alone yourself. 

Still, refusing Yachi is tantamount to kicking an injured puppy, so you swallow your reservations and agree. 

‘Thank you!’ Yachi cheers. ‘We’ll have fun, I promise!’ 

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

It’s summer, and your blouse is sticking to your back as you dash through Diagon Alley. Tsukkishima and Yamaguchi are already waiting in front of Flourish & Botts, the former barely even granting you a nod, though he does give you the courtesy of removing his headphones, while Yamaguchi bounces on the balls of his feet to greet you cheerfully. 

‘Woah there Yamaguchi – keep your enthusiasm for your date’, you joke, and he grins back at you.  And he does – stuttering and blushing as Yachi arrives. Yachi herself is no better – you swear you can hear her teeth chatter as she greets all of you, though she beams when Yamaguchi presents her with a small posy of flowers with clammy hands. 

‘They’re cute’, you remark to Tsukkishima as you walk beside him on the way to the first stop -  Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. 

‘Mm’, he responds, his face blank. 

You know he doesn’t suffer fools – worse still, talkative ones, so you fall silent until you reach the ice cream store. To your surprise, he pulls the chair out for you, and accepts your offer to share a cup of ice cream with you, a tilt to his lips when you automatically order a strawberry shortcake sundae – it’s his favourite after all. 

Yachi and Yamaguchi seem to have gotten over their initial shyness, chatting up a storm in their own little world. You’re excluded, as you expected, but you’re glad for their sakes. 

‘Excited about the last year of school?’ 

You glance up from your melting sundae, surprised that Tsukkishima is the first to break and initiate a conversation. From your interactions with him, he’s deliberate and methodical in his thoughts and words, so you take a few beats to formulate a response. 

‘Yes and no, really’, you answer honestly. 

He raises a thin blonde eyebrow, wordlessly beckoning you to elaborate. 

‘I’m excited for our classes, the syllabus seems really interesting this year’, you say, wincing at how desperately nerdy you sound – but you’re a hopeless Ravenclaw, and advanced Arithmancy and Astronomy excites you. ‘But it’s scary isn’t it – knowing that it’s our last year, and having to make all those important decisions that are going to affect us, years down the road?’ 

He hums thoughtfully. ‘I get that’, he responds, hands steepled under his chin. ‘I’m deciding between doing further studies in magical history and going pro – just for a few more years. But I know no matter what decision I end up making, I’ll probably end up second guessing myself’. 

‘Why can’t you do both?’ you find yourself saying before you can stop yourself. His brow furrows a notch. ‘You’re great at both, and I can’t see why you can’t as long as you put your mind to it’. 

You cringe at your cheesiness, expecting him to snark at you for your Hufflepuff-like optimism the way he does with Yamaguchi, but you’re surprised once again when he mutters a quiet ‘thanks’, a flush high in his cheeks, and then asks -  ‘And what about you?’ 

You wonder if he’s merely being polite, but his tone is serious, and his eyes are intently focused on you, so you tell him about your plans of taking on further studies in Arithmancy, perhaps even enroll in a Muggle university to study Mathematics for a semester or two, before working in Gringotts. The goblins may be archaic in their beliefs about the magical world, but their application of mathematics is extremely advanced. 

‘It suits you’, he comments. You want to ask him what he means by that, but Yachi pipes up from across the table.  

‘If you’re done with your ice cream, do you guys want to check out the magical menagerie? Yamaguchi’s going to get a cat!’ 

Before you can agree, Tsukkishima tells Yachi and Yamaguchi to go on ahead, drolly reminding them that they’re on a date, and they should go spend some quality time together. So they head off with wide smiles, shoulders bumping. They’re so sweet together it almost makes your teeth ache. Well, at least you’ve been dismissed as their reluctant chaperone, and you’re about to wish Tsukkishima a polite farewell when he taps your shoulder. 

‘Let’s go check out Flourish & Botts. I’m sure you have books you want to check out’. 

You blink – because you do, but you don’t expect Tsukkishima to accompany you, let alone be the one seeking out your company. He doesn’t even wait for your assent before he sets off, and you have to jog to keep up with the pace his long legs set. Thankfully, he notices you’re still lagging behind and slows down, though he teases dryly – ‘you know, at the rate you’re walking, I’m not sure we’ll get there before sundown’. 

You pointedly look up at the sun, still high in the sky, before levelling an unimpressed glare at him. He only smirks in response – and you’re so flustered by how attractive his expression is that you nearly trip over the threshold to Flourish & Botts. He catches you with a steady hand to your elbow – and now your heart is fluttering – is this how Yachi is like all the time? If so, you should really cut her some slack – the thoughts crowding your mind so distracting that you hardly hear Tsukkishima call your name in concern until he shakes your shoulder gently. 

‘Are you alright?’ Tsukkishima repeats, with a frown. 

‘Y-yes’, you reply, cursing your traitorous heart again. He doesn’t look like he believes you, insistently pushing you towards an empty couch. 

He clicks his tongue. ‘Don’t move’ he orders, before he disappears, probably to get the books he has his eyes on.  

You sink into the cushions, resisting the urge to bury your face in your hands in embarrassment. An hour spent in his presence and you’ve already turned back into a lovesick fool. You’ve told yourself countless times to just get over your silly crush on him already because it’s not going to do you any good. 

Yamaguchi’s complained to you and Yachi countless times about girls asking him if Tsukkishima is single, but you don’t see him taking an interest in anyone at all – spending all his time instead in the library and on the Quidditch pitch. 

He’s the stone faced beater from Ravenclaw. People wonder sometimes if ice flows in his veins – but they don’t see the determined set of his jaw when he’s ploughing through homework and assignments because he knows he’s going to have to spend the whole day in training the next day, the glint of satisfaction in his eyes whenever he wins a match or scores a good grade, the patience he expends tutoring Yamaguchi (along with Hinata and Kageyama) in Ancient Runes – 

Oh Merlin. You’re a hopeless case. 

 You jump when he returns and drops into a seat beside you. 

‘Oi, what’s wrong with you’, he mutters a tad scornfully, though he drops the book you were eyeing onto your lap. 

‘N-nothing. T-thanks!’ you answer, internally cursing yourself for even picking up Yachi’s speech patterns. 

Get it together. You’re not a fool. 

He hums, browsing his own book. 

It’s pleasant spending an afternoon in a nook reading books. It’s not so pleasant when your heart palpitates every single time his knee grazes yours - and if you shift just a tiny bit to the left you’re pressing against his side and - oh 

‘Are you sure you’re ok?’ he asks, frowning again, when he notices you’ve been reading the same page for the past fifteen minutes. 

‘F-fine’, you stammer, warmth flooding your cheeks when he leans his face dangerously close to yours, bringing his palm to brush against your forehead. 

‘Your temperature’s fine’, he mutters, but he doesn’t pull away – and oh gosh, you’re so close you can count every single lash on his eyes, your traitorous heart causing you to drown in the quiet concern in his eyes – and oh - 

You’re not quite sure who makes the first move because your eyes flutter close, your nose bumps against his and you feel his chapped lips against yours for a split second before he pulls away. 

You open your eyes. 

Did that truly happen? 

Judging from the blank expression on his face, the past few seconds were probably just a fever dream. But there are signs that cool, quiet Tsukkishima isn’t his usual self - a flush creeping up the back of his neck, his fingers gripping the pages of the book so tightly it starts to crinkle.  

‘What was that?’ you blurt out, confused. 

‘What was what?’ Though his voice remains calm and collected, his flush has traveled all the way to the very tips of his ears. 

‘Nothing’, you answer, dropping your eyes back to the open book on your lap, your mind in a whirl. Surely you didn’t imagine that, right? Did you just - did he just - wait, you’re confused again, what’s going on? 

Your thoughts are interrupted by elegant, long fingers slotting between your own. ‘Silly’ he mutters, but there’s a fond twist to his lips and a softness in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. 

‘I’m pretty sure I’m not the only silly one here’, you respond, in a sudden swell of confidence, though your pulse is sending tremors down your spine, your breath catching in your throat. ‘I’m pretty sure you’re the silly one too’. You curl your fingers over his and lean into his side. 

He hums diffidently. ‘I guess it might seem that way’. 

You both share a shy smile. 

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

Yachi is smug when you confess to her later that Tsukkishima - no - Kei asked you out as he walked you home that evening. 

‘I told you that we’d have fun!’, she says, grinning cheek to cheek. Then she starts rambling on and on about future double dates with her and Yamaguchi in Madame Puddifoots, where you can share couple sundaes and steaming mugs of hot chocolate - wouldn’t that be wonderful? 

You resist the urge to tell her that Kei has sworn off any future double dates - let alone at the white and pink lace bedazzled monstrosity of a cafe, and his suggestion of a quiet afternoon spent at his favourite bookshop cafe sounds far more inviting to you. 

You’ll let Yamaguchi break the news to her later, on a more appropriate date.  

Instead you just smile to yourself, thinking of the quiet affection in his voice as he wished you farewell, and the suppressed delight in his eyes when you called his name just as he was about to turn away and surprised him by pulling him down to you and pressing your lips to his cheek. 

Yachi’s right. You did have fun after all. 

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

De Amore

My fic for @aceomenszine is finally available on AO3!

Aziraphale has come to Paris to find the answer to an important question: What's it like to be in love? Crowley's not sure why he wants to know, but he's willing to discuss it to make his angel happy. Full text below!

--

“What’s it like to be in love?”

Crowley stumbled to a stop on the Paris street, glaring at the angel beside him. Aziraphale stared straight ahead, walking with his usual expression: calm, poised, slightly arrogant. As if he were talking about the weather.

“Dunno. S’a human thing, isn’t it?” He scowled at a few gawking peasants, hurrying to catch up. “Romance. Lust. Sex. Nothing to do with us.”

“You could say the same of hunger, or exhaustion, or boredom.”

“Yeah, and I’d be right.” Crowley held out an arm to stop Aziraphale from walking directly into a produce cart. “Neither of us gets exhausted. You’re never tired, and I just like a good nap sometimes.”

“Really?” A flicker of that mocking bastard smirk. “How many nights did you sleep this past week?”

“Nrrg. Five or six, but that’s not the point.” They started walking again, Crowley tossing an apple he’d snuck from the cart. “I could stop if I wanted to — I’d miss it, but s’not the same as being tired. Same with you and eating.”

“But if I desire a food, so strongly I can already taste it, surely that’s…if not exactly hunger, a close approximation?”

“Don’t think so.” Crowley offered the apple, but Aziraphale shook his head. “Spend a couple days in the city, you’ll see what hunger looks like. S’not about pleasure or wanting a particular food. It’s need, desperation. And we just don’t experience that.” He tossed the apple towards a group of children, and a girl in a ragged dress caught it. “Boredom I’ll grant you. I’ve definitely been bored.”

“So, we might enjoy things as humans do, but never desire them the same way,” Aziraphale mused, smoothing his hands down the front of his stolen jacket. “But is love the longing for a connection with another, or the pleasure of that connection?”

“Doesn’t really make a difference to us, does it?”

He waited for Aziraphale to respond, but the angel simply continued walking, hands folded behind his back, eyes more distant than usual.

“So?” Crowley prodded after nearly a block in silence. “What brought this on?” Aziraphale shrugged. “Let me guess. Reading novels again? Sappy poetry? Getting…ideas?” He stepped ahead of Aziraphale and walked backwards, to ensure the angel saw his suggestive eyebrow wiggle. No response. Crowley shrugged, falling back into step. “Look, f’you want to try falling in love with a human, s’your business. Let me know how it goes. Just do it back in London, I don’t need that…drama getting back to my bosses.”

“That’s not it,” Aziraphale snapped, wringing his hands. “It’s not — it doesn’t even work that way, Crowley. Humans don’t just decide to fall in love!”

“They don’t cross an ocean and charge through a revolution for a snack, either.”

“Oh, never mind. Clearly you’re the expert here.” Aziraphale froze, glaring at a shop just ahead, and threw his hands up in disgust. “And now they’ve closed my favorite creperie! Why do I even bother? Might as well return to England and feast upon whatever lumpy brown bread the first tavern I pass serves.”

“Stop being dramatic,” Crowley hissed, turning down a side street and gesturing for Aziraphale to follow. “If you get locked up again, I’m not rescuing you a second time.” The angel’s lips twisted sourly. “Look, gourmet crepes aren’t really in demand right now, but I know a place. Might still be open.”

“I suppose that will have to do.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and glared at the sky, thin grey clouds veiling the sun. He should probably just let Aziraphale stew in his own sullen displeasure. Might even give him an advantage — a distracted angel was easier to outsmart.

But Crowley hadn’t been in the business of thwarting Aziraphale for over a thousand years. Why oppose each other, when they could work…not together, but in tandem? Ensuring all their duties were fulfilled, their paperwork properly filed.

It was better this way. Less fuss all around, less inconvenience. Pleasanter conversation. More time for trips to the theater or quiet meals, either of which was a far better way to spend an evening than any sort of elaborate espionage.

He’d been looking forward to griping about his job over a mug of cider while Aziraphale worked his way through a plate of crepes, smiling and wiggling in his seat. Watching Aziraphale get excited over something was, in Crowley’s opinion, one of the best ways to pass the time.

Only the conversation had left Aziraphale annoyed, pouting and…Crowley studied him carefully, dark glasses imperfectly hiding his eyes. More than anything, Aziraphale looked hurt. A sight that always made Crowley’s stomach twist painfully.

He sighed, tossing back his head. “‘Love is an inborn suffering, proceeding from the sight and immoderate thought upon the beauty of another, for which cause above all other things one wishes to embrace the other and, by common assent, in this embrace to fulfil the commandments of love.’”[1]

“I beg your pardon?”

“Look, I don’t know. You asked me—!” Crowley walked faster, face growing hot. “It’s from some old treatise, right? Love, he says, is seeing someone beautiful and wanting sex. Then, when you have your fill…” he waved his hand vaguely.

“I see.” Aziraphale adjusted his sleeves. “I suppose that…makes sense.” But he still looked grim.

Up ahead, not quite along their path, stood one of Paris’s parks, gates now open to the public. Apart from some rubbish cluttering the entrance, it seemed well-maintained. Crowley tipped his head, inviting.

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up and he nodded, the first hint of a smile on his face. It always made Crowley feel light, that smile, however briefly it appeared.

They wandered in silence up the path, lined by trees here, flowerbeds there. Leaves had turned yellow and the grass was edged with brown, but the roses were still in bloom. Crowley paused to pluck a particularly well-formed bud.

As they crossed a bridge over a small watercourse, Aziraphale suddenly said, “Do you think it’s true, though? That — that treatise? Because it rather sounds like he didn’t see any difference between lust and love.”

“Mmh.” Crowley paused, gazing downstream, where a group of ducks swam contentedly. “As a demon? Yeah. Fits the party line. Humans don’t think of anything but their own pleasure, always wanting what they don’t have. Jealous, possessive, until something better comes along. Then it starts all over. If love and lust aren’t the same, well, they’re pretty close, right?”

“I see.” Aziraphale stepped beside him, holding out his red cap, now filled with grains of barley and cracked corn. They each took a handful and tossed it down. The ducks swam over eagerly, bobbing to catch the seeds before they drifted away.

“But as a being who’s been in the world nearly six thousand years?” Crowley threw another handful, then leaned against the railing, crossing his arms. “Not so sure. Humans do too much that can’t be explained by simple pleasure. Besides, I’ve seen what they do when overwhelmed by lust, and what they do when overwhelmed by love and…dunno. S’not the same.”

More handfuls of grains as a second group of ducks approached.

“What d’you think, Angel?” Crowley prodded. “Must be something in all those books you read.”

“Oh, quite a lot,” Aziraphale assured him. “Much of it contradictory. Many poets will only talk about their beloved’s face, or eyes, but if it were simply a matter of beauty, surely everyone would fall in love with the same beauties.”

“Sometimes they do.” Crowley rolled some seeds between his palms. “S’where the jealousy comes in. But yeah. Gotta be more to it than that.”

“I hope you’re not planning to make those poor ducks sink.”

“What? Nk — no. Course not.” He threw the grains down and the ducks quickly swarmed, turning bright shades of pink and blue and violet as they ate.

“Crowley.”

“Oh, it’s not hurting anyone.” He glanced sideways to see Aziraphale pressing his lips together, struggling not to smile. Grinning, Crowley tossed down more enchanted grains. “Go on then.”

“Hmm? Ah, yes. Well, the overall impression is that love is…transformative. Changes the way one thinks and feels at all times. They speak of, oh, the sun shining brighter, foods tasting sweeter, winter blossoming into summer. Metaphors. Others speak of — of attraction, quickened pulse, sudden heat and so on, but that’s a passing thing, part of a — a particular moment of closeness. Surely, no human could maintain such a state for an hour, never mind weeks or years!” Aziraphale offered Crowley the last handful of grain in his cap. “And once that moment passes…”

“Back to the metaphors.” The ducks below were now spotted, striped, every color of the rainbow. One bore pure white wings, beside another with midnight black. Aziraphale chuckled, very softly, which made Crowley feel immensely satisfied. Dusting off his hands, he circled the angel and continued walking.

“Yes,” Aziraphale hurried to catch up, cap twisting in his hands. “I get the sense that the feeling is so obvious, so…universal, they never think to describe it.”

“How inconsiderate.” Crowley thought it over. “So, flash of heat, racing heart, sun gets brighter, then ten pages about the color of their eyes? That about it?”

“I suppose so.” Aziraphale rubbed a finger across his lip. “Not always beauty, though. Some appear drawn by their partner’s clever mind, or acts of kindness. Some praise stories of bravery or great deeds, others fixate on meaningless symbols of wealth. But still, those only tell why one falls in love, not what it feels like.”

“Sounds like a sort of obsession.” Crowley furrowed his brow. “That treatise had a list of…sort of rules of love. Mostly about jealousy, really, don’t think the author thought much of women, but… ‘Every action of a lover ends in the thought of his beloved.’”

“I see…so that, together or apart, one cannot help but think always of the other. That certainly aligns with the evidence.” He started to replace his cap, then paused, looking inside. “Anything else of use?”

“‘Love can deny nothing to love.’” Beside him, Aziraphale turned pink and a brilliant smile broke across his face, like the sun after a storm. He pulled from the cap the bright red rosebud Crowley had hidden within.

Crowley watched as Aziraphale slid the flower into his buttonhole, drinking in the way the delighted shiver ran across his shoulders. Then the angel looked up, hitting Crowley with the full force of his smile.

Stunning. Blinding. It stole Crowley’s breath away, wiped every thought from his mind.

One day, that smile would destroy him, and he wouldn’t mind at all.

“So, this creperie — are we close?”

“Ngh. Smh. Unh. Nearly. Another block or two.” The park’s gate stood just ahead, half shut, the bustling street beyond. Crowley quickly stepped ahead, pulling it open for Aziraphale. “You, ah, find the answer you needed?”

“I…think so, yes.” He rested his fingers on the gate — so close to Crowley’s he could feel their warmth — then quickly pulled away, folding his hands behind his back. “I’ve been trying to work out…well…whether I’m in love with you, Crowley.”

“Oh.” What was he supposed to say to that? “Oh.”

“Indeed.” Aziraphale’s eyes darted nervously and he began to pace. “I-I want you to know, I don’t desire you. I’ve never felt that sort of attraction. And I’m not jealous by any means. I’m not even certain who I’m meant to be jealous of. But…” He turned back, tugging his jacket. “I think of you. Constantly. Every action, every experience reminds me of you. I go to a concert, and I can’t concentrate on the music, only whether you would enjoy it. I hear a joke and I imagine how you would laugh, or roll your eyes, and I can’t know a moment’s peace until I’ve shared it with you. And last month…when I was reprimanded…for days afterward I could think of nothing but how I wished you were there. When I finally found the strength to venture out, it was only from my determination to come here.”

“For…crepes?” Crowley offered stupidly.

“No, you silly creature, for you.” He stepped forward, reaching up as if to straighten Crowley’s lapels, but once again his hands dropped. “I hear your voice and no matter how dark my situation — no matter how absurd you look in the current fashion — I just…feel happy again.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath and lifted his eyes — hopeful, fearful, vulnerable — to meet Crowley’s.

“Oh.” Something more was probably needed. “Yeah.”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say.

“Well.” Aziraphale’s eyes dropped and he turned, trying to hide his expression. “Yes. I thought you should know.” He ducked his head and hurried through the gate. “Where — where is this creperie? We should try to arrive—”

“Me too.”

Crowley hadn’t meant to say anything. His mind was still ten minutes behind, struggling to catch up, but the pain on Aziraphale’s face hurt him like a blow to the chest.

The two words stopped Aziraphale in his tracks.

“I…I think about you, too.” Crowley stepped halfway through the gate, gripping the bar so tight it began to bend. “When I wake up, or fall asleep and…and away from you, here, I just…I miss you…but you — you idiot, with your crepes and your — your execution and…and then you smile and I just…” Blast! How could Aziraphale be so eloquent? Crowley swallowed and started over. “Look, m’trying to say…don’t think I can deny you anything. And. If that’s love…yeah. Me too.”

All this time, Aziraphale stood perfectly still, his back to Crowley. But now he turned, blue eyes furiously blinking. “That’s…ah…thank you. I know y-you hate being thanked but…” Aziraphale took one step closer, then another, until only inches separated them. “Thank you.”

“Nh.” He could so easily reach across that last bit of distance. Crowley didn’t know what that would accomplish, what he’d even do, but he wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything. “Now what?”

“I don’t know.” Aziraphale’s gaze fell. “It…doesn’t change anything, does it? You’re still a demon, and I’m—”

“I don’t care,” Crowley hissed, shocked at the fervor in his own voice. “We don’t need to play by their rules. We could — run off, or—”

“We can’t. Crowley, both our sides would — they’d find us, they’d destroy you.”

“I’m willing to risk it.” He reached for Aziraphale’s hand.

“I’m not.” The angel jerked back, putting more distance between them, eyes wide. “Crowley that’s — that’s not a chance I’m willing to take. I’m sorry, but no.”

“Fine,” Crowley growled, pulling away. “What do you want?”

“I want…” Aziraphale shut his eyes, taking a shuddering breath. “I want a shop in London, where I can surround myself with books and foods and everything I enjoy. I want my superiors to trust me, let me bring good into the world my own way, without sending me all over Creation at a moment’s notice and — and punishing me for a few miracles to make my life easier. I want us to go to plays and gardens and balls together, not for clandestine meetings but because we enjoy them. To be openly in each other’s company, without fear of reprisal. And…I’d like you to visit my shop and bring me flowers or sweets. I’d serve my very best wine and…we’d talk all night about…everything and nothing. And laugh together.” His eyes fluttered open and for the first time Aziraphale looked sure of himself. “I want what we already have. Only I want more of it.”

This time he didn’t move as Crowley reached out. Long fingers carefully adjusted the rosebud, standing it straighter in its buttonhole. “Yeah. I…I’d like that, too.”

“And you don’t want anything…physical?”

Crowley snorted. “M’not a human.” But he wondered if Aziraphale’s cheek was as soft as the rosebud’s petals. “I’d like to touch you. Your hand, your face. Your wings. Hear your voice as I fall asleep. Feel your fingers in my hair. Is that…too much?”

“No.” Aziraphale smiled gently. “That sounds perfect.”

“Maybe…” Crowley fidgeted with his glasses, shuffled his feet, but refused to step away. “If we’re careful…”

“The Arrangement is already dangerous enough. You must understand…”

Crowley closed his eyes. “I do. Nothing changes.” Except there were words now, to the feeling he had when he thought of his angel. And that changed everything. When he looked again, Aziraphale nodded, as if he felt the same.

“Right then.” Crowley circled around Aziraphale, sauntering back to the main road. “Let’s see if these crepes are worth risking the guillotine.”

“My dear fellow,” Aziraphale easily kept pace. “One bite of true Breton crepes will silence your doubts forever.”

“Breton, huh?”

“Oh, yes, far superior to any others.”

“If that’s so,” Crowley smirked, remembering Aziraphale in his cell, “s’a wonder you came to Paris. Particularly in such a…controversial outfit.”

“The city has…certain other attractions.”

Something warm and heavy wrapped across Crowley’s shoulders, invisible to his eyes, though he could feel the individual feathers tickle his neck. Aziraphale strolled beside him, hands clasped behind his back, eyes forward, as if nothing were amiss.

Carefully, trying to look natural, Crowley scratched his shoulder, brushing his knuckles down a long flight feather, softer than any mortal bird’s.

Aziraphale smiled ever so slightly and flexed his wing, holding Crowley a little more tightly. An embrace that no one could see, no one could know about, except them.

“Dunno,” Crowley said. “Still seems pretty risky.”

“Yes. But I’m an incorrigible old fool. Sometimes I can’t help myself.”

“Suppose I can understand,” Crowley said as he extended his own wing, wrapping it around Aziraphale’s waist. The angel’s composure broke as he wiggled, burying himself in invisible feathers. Crowley smiled, heat running through him, a warm spring day after a long cold winter. “After all, we’re not so different, you and I.”

[1] De Amore, Andreas Capellanus, c. 1190

So happy to finally share this!

[kuroopaisen]

tiny love || 13

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime is easy. your feelings aren’t ignored, either. this time, you both decided to tell your brother the truth. 

warnings: f!reader

wc: 2.8k

m.list | ch. 12 ↞ ch. 13 ↠ ch. 14

Tooru’s beaming face stared up at you from your phone as you get through to voicemail for the seventh time today.

He smiled at you from the walls, a whole range of Tooru of all different ages – all Tooru’s who hadn’t shouted at you for sleeping with his best friend.

You’d come to your room in the hopes that it might bring you some comfort. Stupid decision, really. There was so much of him here, grinning at you from your walls, from your desk. You hadn’t even realised how many damn photos you had of him until today. And he’s in everything; photos with your friends, photos with your family, nice shots of Miyagi that he’s managed to ruin with half his forehead.

God, if Tooru wouldn’t forgive you for this…

No. He’d have to.

Your brother was going to hear you out, and he wasn’t going to speak over or belittle you. He had to recognise you as an independent adult.

You hadn’t told Iwaizumi you were planning on doing this. He’d bore enough of Tooru’s rage today. And besides, this was a conversation you wanted – no, needed – to have on your own.

If only your stupid brother would answer his damn phone.

What’s the bet he’s practicing his serves with all the aggression he’d cultivated in high school? Or maybe he was just watching his own phone ring, staring at it with derision as your name glowed on his screen. Or maybe he wasn’t doing anything, simply passed out on his bed, tuckered out from all the rage.

You took a deep breath as your thumb hovered over the call button. One last try. Just one.

The phone rung once more. You were starting to get sick of the sound – the same number of trills, the same mechanical rhythm.

One more time. If he didn’t pick up now, then—

“What do you want?” Tooru’s voice was sharp, with far more aggression than necessary.

“I need to speak with you,” you said, as much confidence in your voice as you could muster.

“Go away,” Tooru hissed.

“No!”

You didn’t mean to shout. It just came out of you, as if it had been dog rattling at the gates, begging to be let out for the hunt.

“You’re not going to run away from this, Tooru!” You could already feel the corners of your eyes burning, your throat starting to constrict, that awful knot in your stomach reforming.

You didn’t want to do this. But you had to.

Tooru said nothing in response. But the white noise coming through the receiver let you know that he hadn’t hung up.

“What is your problem?”

It was a plea more than a question.

“My best friend is fooling around with my sister,” he hissed.

“Look,” you breathed, your chest so tight it felt like was going to crack your ribs, “you don’t get to dictate who I do and don’t date.”

“That’s my best friend.” Tooru didn’t miss a beat. But part of you is relieved to hear that he still referred to Hajime that way. Maybe all was not lost.

“I know,” you replied, clenching your fist in your lap. “I don’t see what the problem is.”

Tooru scoffed. Every petty argument you’d had over the years comes back to you – Tooru’s dismissive, obnoxious tone, the ache of not being listened to, the frustration at being treated like a little kid.

“What if you break up?” Tooru said, as condescending as if he was explaining how the sun rose and fell. “What if something goes wrong?”

“We’re adults, Tooru,” you rolled your eyes despite the circumstances. “We’re not going to be petty about it if that happens.”

And we’ve already managed to let you live a cushy life after a breakup, you thought to yourself. Though you knew better than to tell Tooru that.

“An adult wouldn’t go behind her brother’s back,” he seethed.

It was really all about him, huh? Your relationship, how much you and Iwaizumi cared about each other… Tooru wasn’t even thinking about that. It was just his perspective, his wants, his needs.

It’s just like it was back in high school. The only difference is that this time, Tooru was articulating these thoughts. Knowing the assumptions, you made all that time ago, in your hormonal, addled teenage brains…

“Look,” you snapped. “I’m sick of losing to you.” They’re words you should’ve said ages ago. Or maybe you shouldn’t have said them at all.

But they were out now, no longer a dirty little secret held close to your chest for who knew how long.

You weren’t just talking about Iwaizumi, either. You’d always felt second to Tooru – second to his fire, second to his passions. Always second over the finish line. Always second best. Always less important.

Fuck, you’d even moved halfway across the world just to live up to his ‘legacy’. How were you supposed to just go to a Japanese university after Tooru had moved to fucking Argentina? No, you’d wanted to prove yourself. To show that you, too, were worth something.

But even after all of that, you’re still just ‘Tooru’s little sister.’

And poor Iwaizumi was all this converged; poor Iwaizumi, stuck between two hearts and shackled by his sense of propriety.

Iwaizumi, who could easily be part of both of you, weaved through both your souls by calloused hands.

“I’m not losing him again just because you don’t like the idea of us being in a relationship.”

Maybe it was an irresponsible thing to say. There’s too much truth in it, too many years of bitterness stored and cultivated in your gut.

But too much has already been said. Nothing could be taken back. And if life wasn’t going to let you have anything of your own, anything you could be proud of, then you sure as hell weren’t letting it take Iwaizumi away from you, too.

You jerked the phone away from your ear and jabbed the ‘END CALL’ icon with more force than necessary.

That… could’ve gone better. Did you even achieve anything? Or had you just added to the clusterfuck? But there was nothing to be done now.

Hajime said he’d stick by you this time. That meant there was no backing out now. Not that you wanted to – not after all of this.

✧ ✧ ✧

I’ll go for a run, Hajime had thought. It’ll help calm me down.

Wrong.

He’d made the stupid mistake of bringing his phone with him.

Oikawa’s unique ringtone blared in his pocket; a little jingle of Oikawa singing ‘Iwa-chan!’ Oikawa had created it one day in their final year of high school when Iwaizumi was taking a toilet break.

Iwaizumi had never had the heart to change it, irritating as it was.

Slowing to a stop, he slipped his phone out of his pocket and brought it to his ear reluctantly.

But this was a new kind of reticence. This isn’t the everyday annoyance he’d felt in high school whenever Oikawa stroked his own ego, or when Oikawa refused to do the bare minimum of looking after himself.

This was something else entirely. Something Iwaizumi loathed.

“Hello?” He answered gruffly, voice terse with both anxiety and exertion.

“What the fuck is going on, dude?”

Cutting right to the chase, then.

“We told you,” Iwaizumi swallowed. “We’re dating.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Oikawa snapped.

“What do you mean, then?” Iwaizumi bit back his temper.

Shouting at Oikawa wouldn’t get him anywhere. That’d just make everything worse; and he didn’t want to do that to you or your brother.

Oikawa was silent for a moment – quiet enough for Iwaizumi to check the connection.

“She said ‘again,’” Tooru murmured.

Iwaizumi didn’t have the space in his heart to get mad at you. Not after years of keeping your feelings locked in your heart, trying to do the right thing by your brother, trying to make all of this work despite the discomfort it brought you.

He took a deep breath. “This isn’t the first time something’s happened.”

A confession. One he should’ve made years ago.

But God, did his soul feel lighter for it.

“Wait, what?” The tone of Oikawa’s voice was unplaceable.

“I kissed her at the beginning of our third year.” The words were out before he could doubt them. Now wasn’t the time to be delicate, to be cautious. If Oikawa was going to respond like this, then you both have to return in full force.

“What the fuck?” Oikawa’s an emotional guy. But those three words had more rage and vitriol in them than Iwaizumi had ever heard before.

“She wasn’t exactly subtle about the fact something was happening,” Iwaizumi grumbled. Looking back on it, he really had been cold. You’d just been reaching out to him, hoping that he’d give you the affirmation you craved. He’d avoided you in the hopes that you’d forget all about it.

God, it had all been very ‘teenage’. Part of him felt like he couldn’t blame either of you for that – you were teenagers at the time, after all – but another part of his heart couldn’t quite forgive himself for what he did.

To you, and to Tooru.

“Was this before summer break?” Oikawa spoke after a long moment, a quietude in his voice that even Iwaizumi wasn’t familiar with.

Iwaizumi swallowed roughly. “Yeah.”

Another silence. But this time, it’s hostile. It felt like the silence before a huge wave crashed, the air thrumming with the tension of what was about to come. It didn’t feel like Oikawa was about to shout; no, it’d be worse than that.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s hurt in Oikawa’s voice, but not the same kind of before.

“Because I knew you’d be mad,” Iwaizumi admitted. And I was scared.

“That’s no excuse.”

It never was.

“I know,” Iwiazumi sighed. “I was a coward.”

“What, so you decided that you’d just go behind my back now?” Oikawa scoffed.

“I didn’t plan for this to happen,” Iwaizumi said, biting back a snarl.

“This didn’t cross your mind at all when I asked you to live with her?”

Iwaizumi remembered that conversation well. The doubt, the fear, the apprehension. He hadn’t wanted to do it – didn’t want to put himself in that situation again. But Tooru had been persistent; kept talking about how someone needed to keep an eye on you.

“I decided to share an apartment with her for you, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said, voice surprisingly firm and steady. “Because you were the one who wanted me to keep an eye on her.”

“But—”

“I care about her,” Iwaizumi swallowed. “This isn’t all about you.”

“I never said it was ‘all about me,’” Oikawa fumed, “you guys just obviously didn’t think about me at all.”

Iwaizumi took a deep breath, the knot in his forehead getting deeper. Ignorance must be bliss. But Oikawa had no right to think like that, no right to make such accusations.

“We both put you first, you know?” Iwaizumi said, voice tight. “I dumped her in high school because of you. And I bet that she moved in with me because you asked her to.”

“What, so this is my fault?” He sounded bewildered more than anything else.

“Of course not,” Iwaizumi huffed, “but don’t think for a second that nobody in this ever gave a shit about you and your feelings.”

“Well you could’ve asked me—”

“It’s not just about you!”

Iwaizumi didn’t mean to shout. It just came out of you, as if it had been dog rattling at the gates, begging to be let out for the hunt.

He didn’t mean to repeat himself, either. Oh well.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Some sweat still lingered on his forehead – a damp reminder that a few minutes ago, he’d been on a run. To relieve tension.

Funny, that.

“Look, I know I should’ve told you about it in high school,” he mumbled. “And I shouldn’t have kept it a secret for so long. But you don’t have a right to say that we can and can’t be together.”

Their words he didn’t know he had, solid and strong and steady.

“We’re not doing this to spite you, Oikawa,” he said. “I know she’d want your approval more than anything. But your feelings aren’t going to stop any of this from happening.”

Oikawa was silent. Iwaizumi didn’t need to see him to know the look on his face; pouty, with all the air of a petulant child despite his age.

“Why do you even have such a problem with it, anyway?”

It’s the question. The one that all this mess boiled down to. Part of Iwaizumi felt betrayed; did Oikawa not trust him? Did he not deem him ‘worthy’ of his little sister?

But another part of him understood the anxiety. That’s why he asked gently, with as little antagonism as possible.

It was hard. Much harder than he’d anticipated. But it was necessary.

“That’s my little sister. And you’re… you’re my best friend. If you two broke up, where does that leave me? And I’m sure that neither of you would rely on me if you did break up, and—”

“Why are you so certain we’ll break up?” Iwaizumi nearly laughed.

“It could happen!” Oikawa whined. “Nothing’s set in stone!”

“Exactly,” Iwaizumi nodded. “So, there’s no reason for you to be so concerned about whether or not we’ll break up. It’s just as likely that we won’t.”

Another silence.

“What, are you planning to marry her or something?”

Iwaizumi’s cheeks flared and his stomach swelled. “Wh—I—Don’t get ahead of yourself!”

“Oh my God… you’re planning on marrying my sister…”

“I didn’t say that!”

“But you implied it.”

“No, I didn’t!”

Of course Oikawa would jump to conclusions like this. Shittykawa and—

“Do you love her?”

Iwaizumi was struck dumb by the question.

Does he love you? Well, yes. There’s a space in his heart specifically carved out for you, in your shape. Honestly, it’s been there so long he’s not sure if it could ever go away. Not truly.

But he wasn’t sure if that’s what Oikawa was asking. He meant love in a distinctly romantic way; the sort of love they show in movies and play on the radio. The sort of love that specifically drove romantic relationships.

Somehow, that’s what made him nervous. Iwaizumi knew he loved you – saying it out loud, to your brother of all people, was an entirely different ball game. Different meanings, different layers of love, and you intersecting all of them.

God, he’s got it bad.

He swallowed roughly, clenching his fist at his side. “It’s too early to say, but…”

“But?”

“I… I think I could.”

“God, you’re taking this too seriously…”

“I’m taking this too seriously!? You’re the one who—”

“’It’s too early to say but… I think I could,’” Oikawa parroted in his best Iwaizumi impression. Iwaizumi would’ve given it a six out of ten at best; he’s pretty sure his voice wasn’t that deep.

“You’re a piece of shit,” Iwaizumi grumbled.

“As you like to remind me,” Oikawa hummed in a sing-song voice.

It was strange. Talking in those voices. Saying those words.

It was almost like things were normal.

“Anyway,” Oikawa cleared his throat, snapping Iwaizumi out of his disorientation. “I’ve got to get back to practice. So…”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi nodded. “Good luck. But don’t overwork yourself.”

Oikawa chuckled with a tsk. “Now, now, Iwa, I’m not the boy I was in high school.”

Iwaizumi could only hope that was really the case.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Hey.”

You were sprawled out on the couch, staring at the living room ceiling. You’d quickly deemed your bedroom far too precarious of a place to be, but that didn’t leave you with much.

And you couldn’t even call Amaya – she’d be (or, at least, should be) asleep right now.

But Iwaizumi was back, appearing in the front home with his hair all ruffled and his cheeks flushed. Of course he made coming back from a run look good.  It’s really not fair.

You sat up, offering him a weak smile.

He returned it gently, making a direct beeline for you.

“Did you have a good run?” You asked.

“Mm.”

You blinked at him.

Iwaizumi looked at you with a certain cautiousness. “He called me.”

Shit.

Tooru must’ve… you must’ve said something that…

“How did it go?” You asked. No point jumping to conclusions.

“I don’t know,” Iwaizumi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It could’ve gone worse?”

You don’t know what to do with that knowledge. “That’s… good?”

Iwaizumi chuckled, shaking his head.

It was nice, seeing him smile. It felt like he hadn’t done that all day.

“Are you okay?” He asked, a big hand coming to caress your cheek.

You leant into it, pouting. “No.”

He sighed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Anything I could do to make it better?”

You pondered it for a moment. “You could make us lunch?”

He smiled. “If that’s what you want.”

[peachsayshi]

Chapter 6 - Festival

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Smut, Teasing and a little bit of Fluff.

Summary: Your best friend Rina is curious about what's been keeping you so busy, and the two of you run into Gojo and his student at a food festival.

A/N: I have been working on my jjk fics but this chapter was a little bit difficult for me to write. A little bit of backstory and plot building here. Gojo and personal space? Non-existent. You can't tell me that the man wouldn't abuse his flirting rights.

- - - 

“Aren’t you a little warm in that top?”

Rina glanced at the high collared t-shirt you were wearing under your mini dress. The top covered the marks that Gojo left on your neck but the material was a little too thick for the summer heat. Thankfully, there was a breeze cooling you off otherwise you would be dripping with sweat.

“I’m fine,” you replied, directing your attention onto the vendors instead of your best friend’s narrowed eyes.

Rina asked you to come along to check out a food festival set up in the city. The entire district was lined with painted stalls which made for a picture perfect scene. The rich aroma of cooked food danced around you, enticing the bustling crowd that was growing in numbers. From golden battered fried takoyaki balls to mouthwatering barbecued yakitori, rainbow cotton candy that sent strings of sugar into the air and sweet kakigori to cleanse the palette…

Everything was making your stomach grumble.

“Oh, let’s get okonomiyaki!” Rina suggested.

After picking up your orders, you both sat at an empty table where you could enjoy your meal. You were ignoring the way Rina continued looking at you suspiciously, clearly not letting go of her obsession with the top you were wearing.

“Okay, that’s it. Let me see it.”

“See what?” you questioned, covering your mouth as you tried to chew on your food.

“The hickey you are hiding.”

You nearly choked as you swallowed but Rina didn’t flinch at your reaction. You patted your chest lightly, clearing your throat as you gathered your thoughts.

“I’m not hiding anything!” you replied defensively.

Rina rolled her eyes at you, “then at least tell me who the guy is…”

You waved your arm nonchalantly in her direction, desperately trying to avoid getting into a losing battle with your best friend. If there was one person in the world who didn’t need superhuman abilities to tell what you were thinking - it was Rina. She read you like an open book, making it near impossible for you to keep a secret from her. How you managed to go this long without her figuring out you were hooking up with Gojo was a miracle.

“I just want to know exactly what has been keeping you so busy recently,” she continued, “I’m having a hard time believing it’s work because you would be in a miserable mood if you were spending all your free time at the office.”

“ Or we can talk about how absolutely delicious this is...” you blurted, letting her words travel in your ear and out the other as you pointed at the meal in front of you.

Rina lifted her brow, shaking her head in disapproval. She calmly placed her chopsticks on her plate, leaning forward a little closer to you before hooking her finger in the collar of your shirt and tugging it down to check your neck.

“LIAR!”

You clasped your hand over the mark, your eyes widening as you prodded your best friend with your other finger.

“Oh, you are in trouble!” a sly smile spread across her pretty face, “when did you start dating again? I thought you swore off men after what happened with the fitness instructor..”

“Please don’t remind me of him…”

“Then who is this mystery man that you are hiding?”

You pressed your lips together, hesitant to reveal the truth about the deal you and Gojo had made. Yes, you were having fun together and none of it was supposed to be as serious as you were making it out in your head. In fact, Rina would probably applaud you for initiating this to begin with.

But…

Rina also liked to ask hard questions: why were you using him instead of confronting your heartbreak? Why were you chasing after something false instead of trying for real love again? Do you really want to risk ruining the friendship you both have?

Those were questions that you didn’t have the answers to.

“It’s...It’s some guy at work, you don’t know him…” you stated, finally settling on a good enough excuse to satisfy her curiosity

“How long have you been seeing him?”

“Just a few weeks…” you fibbed.

“Tell me what he’s like?”

“Uhh…he’s fun, I guess …handsome, kind of charming…but it’s only been a few dates, I still don’t really know him well yet.”

You swallowed hard, hating yourself for not having the courage to tell Rina the truth. Your best friend continued throwing questions at you while your brain spat out the answers before you could even think things through, your guilt twisting your insides with all the lies you were spewing.

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner…”

Rina smiled, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I just want you to be happy. If you like this guy, you should give him a chance. Who knows, maybe this could turn into something serious…”

“I am not really looking for anything serious,” you admitted, allowing yourself to be vulnerable. “At least not right now…”

How could you want something serious after what happened?

You and your ex-boyfriend were together for five years. You met him when you were both at university and he swept you off your feet. His handsomeness showed through his kind personality and he always managed to make you smile. He was your first of many things, including this painful heartbreak.

You hated yourself for getting comfortable with him, for allowing your mind to plan a future that you both could share. You were disappointed that he made you fall in love with him but more so, that he abandoned you to piece together what was left.

You always felt like you never had your closure. When you asked him why he cheated, he never gave you a solid answer. He was ashamed for keeping his infidelity a secret for so long that his only response was a pathetic apology.

Who was this woman that he was willing to jeopardize your relationship for?

Why did he stop loving you?

You blamed yourself because you couldn’t understand.

One minute you were happy and the next you found yourself betrayed in the worst way possible.

You had enough respect for yourself to know that you couldn’t stay with a man who would treat you this way. When you broke up, you expected him to beg for your forgiveness. He was your prince charming, of course he would come crawling back.

You only knew that he had moved on with his lover when you caught the two of them at the supermarket together. They were buying peas, completely entranced with one another and the adoration that your former boyfriend used to look at you with was now passed on to the woman with golden hair.

He was your weakness and you…

You still loved him.  

Rina’s eyes shifted to the crowd, pausing when she recognised a face among the sea of strangers.

“Oh! Look who is over there!”

You glanced over your shoulder, following her line of sight until you saw your dirty little secret wave at you from a distance.

Gojo was eating ice cream, mindlessly swerving around the crowd and looking exceptionally fine in his summer fit. Adorned on the top of his head were cat ears, a little souvenir trinket that some of the vendors were selling at their stalls. His free arm was draped across a teen boy’s shoulder, whose unamused face indicated that he was not keen on being here.

“Rina-chan!” Gojo sang as he approached your table, “it’s nice to see you!”

“You too! How are things?”

“Great! Busy with the usual but today I decided to stop by with my student. This is Megumi…”

The boy awkwardly bowed to greet you and Rina.

“It’s nice to meet you both…”

Gojo’s shades slid down his nose slightly, and you caught a glimpse of those blue eyes. When he winked in your direction, you couldn’t help but blush.

“What are you two up to?” he casually asked.

“Well, I finally got Miss “Busy All The Time” to myself today and we just had some okonomiyaki, that guy over there is selling it…”

Gojo hummed and swirled his tongue around his vanilla ice cream before calmly replying, “I know, she’s been so preoccupied lately! Oi, when are we going to have our catch up session?”

Your face grew warmer, Gojo was good at keeping secrets and him playing off like he hasn’t been the one taking up all of your spare time only resulted in you staring at him with furrowed brows.

Thankfully, Megumi interrupted the conversation.

“I’m going to walk around for a bit,” he stated, turning his heel to walk away from your little group.

“I’ll meet up with you in a minute,” Gojo replied with a nod.

“I’m also going to use this opportunity to find the restroom. Gojo can keep you company until I get back,” Rina added, as she stood up from her seat.

Gojo gave her a thumbs up, “happily!”

The sorcerer took Rina’s place, sitting down across from you while his long legs bumped into yours as he adjusted his position. He paused for a moment, watching your friend and his student disperse into the crowd before finally returning his attention back to you.

“Nice outfit by the way but a little warm for today’s weather in my opinion.”

“I wonder whose fault that is…” you mused, pressing your lips together to stop yourself from smiling at his teasing comment, “I bet you think you’re so cute assuming you’re completely innocent in all this.”

Gojo smiled, “Actually, I know I’m cute.”

You couldn’t deny it, even right now as you watched him with those ridiculous cat ears that pulled back his white locks. He definitely was catching the eye of every girl and guy who passed by.

You flicked one of the black ears on his head,  “this is a new look for you…”

“I bought it for Megumi but he wasn’t too pleased wearing it around, kept saying that I was embarrassing him...” Gojo explained with a frown.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on your thighs and bringing the ice cream in his hand to your face.

“Want a taste?” he asked innocently.

Your heart skipped a beat, unaware that Gojo would get this close to you in public. He knew that you hadn't told anybody about what you both have been doing and you wondered if he was deliberately trying to put you in an awkward position. You subconsciously scanned the crowd to see if Rina or Megumi were around.

You tilted your head back slightly before asking, “do you understand the concept of personal space?”

“Relax,” Gojo said in a low voice, “no one is paying attention to us.”

“What if they come back…”

“I’ll see them before they see us,” he replied with confidence, grazing his free hand over your thigh. “Besides, you look like you could use something to cool you off…”

You arched your brow, deciding to give in and play this little flirtation game. You bit your bottom lip, gently wrapping your hand around his slender fingers and slowly leaning forward to lick the ice cream off his cone. You kept your gaze on Gojo, focusing on the devilish smirk that spread across his lips as he watched with approval.

“Mmm, that is good…” you moaned, before looking at him with glittering eyes, “wait, I didn’t get any ice cream on my face, did I?”

Gojo chuckled under his breath, “you’ve got a little something right here…”

His hand moved up to your face, his fingers holding your chin as he brought your lips to his. You inhaled, holding your breath as you were caught off guard by him stealing a kiss. The moment was fleeting and before you knew it, he parted his lips from yours but trailed his hand down your neck to take a peek at the hickey he left on your skin.

“I usually don’t care about where I mark you but if it’s a big concern I’ll make sure to do it in places where only I can see…”

Even though he spoke in a low whisper, you felt like it was loud enough for the whole crowd to hear how flustered you just got by his words.

You cleared your throat, turning your face away from him to regain your composure. “Behave, Satoru…”

“Mmm,” he hummed, “I could keep going but Rina will be back in any minute…”

You sensed a hint of annoyance in his voice when he said that.

The sorcerer leaned back, inviting the space that separated you both as he ate his ice cream with indifference. Sometimes you wish you could flip the switch as easily as he did but you found it impossible.

Rina arrived before you could even respond to his statement.

“What did I miss?” she asked, patting Gojo lightly on the shoulder to request returning to her seat.

“Nothing special,” Gojo answered with a shrug as he stood up , “I think I’m going to head back and find this kid before he leaves without me knowing.”

“Enjoy the rest of your evening! Also, you should stop by the candy shop sometime. I’ve been working on some new treats I think you might like…”

“I will,” he promised, stretching the lying game even further. He proceeded to remove the headband he was wearing, his white hair flopping over his shades as he handed you the cat ears. “Hold on to these for me won’t you…”

You took it, puzzled by the sudden gesture.

“What for?”

“Just an excuse to pick it up from you later,” he remarked innocently, “otherwise I’ll never see you!”

Rina laughed, clearly not catching on to his hidden invitation. Gojo waved goodbye and walked away, leaving you both to return to your date.

For a moment you thought your lie was about to catch up to you but realised that it was easy keeping this secret because nobody would expect you to hook up with Gojo.

You guys have been playing this song and dance for a while, saving your flirtatious banter and curiosities for when you two were alone together. Maybe you’ll come clean eventually, but for now you wanted to enjoy the bubble you were in.

You played with the cat ears in your hand, completely unaware that you were smiling to yourself.

- CHAPTER 7: GAMES - 

[sankyeom]

splash! | l.jy

pairings: lee juyeon x reader genre: lifeguard!juyeon, summer love, strangers to lovers summary: in which you fall in love with the lifeguard at the hotel pool during your summer vacation and don’t want to have to say goodbye word count: 5.1k warnings: i said bullshit like once i think requested: nope, this is the result of me having a daydream about lifeguard juyeon and missing my home in santa cruz a lot bc i’m overseas right now note: i should have called this water after the boyz’ song, but i already made the banner say splash and i was too lazy to change it. also i was picturing ddd era juyeon for this fic so keep that in mind if you want 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

The salty air blowing in the breeze wasn’t a familiar scent, but you welcomed it as you draped yourself across the beach lounge chair by the hotel pool. You couldn’t have been more thankful for your best friend who surprised you with a beach-side vacation for the summer. Your third year of University had been difficult to say the least, and after your friend had seen you buried in books and notes, they decided enough was enough.

“Didn’t I say this was a good idea?” your best friend asked, shielding their face with a broad-brimmed sun hat. The two of you had opted to lounge by the pool for the day instead of hitting the beach, mostly because your friend wasn’t particularly fond of the ocean.

“Yes,” you hummed in agreement. “Didn’t I already acknowledge that you’re a genius?” you retorted, turning on your side to face your best friend. They made a vaguely dismissive motion with their hand, eliciting a laugh from you as you decided what book to read while you soaked up some sun.

A shout interrupted your thoughts. “Hey!” the call came from the lifeguard up on the tall wooden chair that designated his position. Your eyes followed the sound, intrigued by the sudden call. The man in question was tall, slender, and broad-shouldered, with light brown hair and honey blond highlights. He was speaking into a megaphone and seemed to be targeting a group of teenage boys. “They’re not interested. Stop bothering them and go along with your day,” you noticed the group of boys in question seemed to be lingering near some teenage girls. They scowled at the lifeguard, faces clearly displaying their embarrassment at being called out. It seemed as though they wanted to reply, perhaps say something snooty about them being guests there, but the lifeguard wouldn’t have it. “Don’t make me go down there. I will go down there,” he warned.

You cracked a smile as the group of boys mumbled to one another before stalking off with glares on their faces. “Well that was nice of him,” your friend had peeked out from under their sunhat long enough to witness the encounter. “He’s pretty cute,” they observed.

Pretty cute was an understatement.

As far as bodies went, his was clearly well maintained and rather impressive, but his face was what had caught your attention initially. He had clear, sharp eyes and a small, slender nose. His dyed hair made him appear to almost glow in the summer sun, skin tanned from being outside all day long. When you glanced down to observe his face, you realised you had been glancing at the stranger’s lips for far longer than socially acceptable and decided to just look away.

“I saw that,” your friend pointed out. “You think he’s more than just pretty cute, huh?” they teased you, wiggling their eyebrows as best as they could to further taunt you.

“No, don’t be ridiculous,” you lied, risking another look back at the lifeguard.

You hadn’t realised it, but the fairly close proximity to the lifeguard’s chair gave Juyeon both a clear view of you and your friend as well as the ability to hear your chatter. Having noticed you earlier as well, Juyeon could feel his ears burning with embarrassment as the two of you locked eyes. When you and your friend arrived, you had caught his attention because the two of you looked like you were very close and having a lot of fun. His summer job thus far had been anything but fun, and the way you looked when you laughed was simply radiant.

Noticing the tension in the area, your friend beamed. “Do you need me to work my magic?” they wondered, taking their hat off and giving you their full attention.

“You don’t have any magic,” you hissed back, breaking eye contact with the cute lifeguard to hush your friend. “And don’t be so loud, he’s not that far away,” you added in a whisper.

“Oh honey,” your friend sighed. “You need all the help you can get. Leave this to me,” they winked, taking off their cover up as you began to protest.

“No, stop that,” you whisper-yelled. “What are you doing, why are you-“ you cut yourself off as your friend not-so-elegantly dove into the pool. You exhaled loudly, looking up at the sky and hoping to any god that existed that your friend wasn’t going to embarrass you.

When your friend started swimming and going nowhere near the lifeguard, you decided you could calm down and not worry about their actions anymore. That was until your friend started shouting and flailing about in the pool, calling out for the lifeguard to help them as they struggled in the water. You furrowed your brows together. They were a perfect swimmer, there was no way they could really be drowning in a pool shallow enough for them to stand.

Without waiting, the lifeguard gracefully dove into the pool and paddled towards your best friend. “I’ve got you, you’re okay,” he told your friend, pulling them towards the edge of the pool. Still, your friend made a big show out of panicking and clinging onto him as he lifted them out of the water.

“Please,” you friend said between exaggerated coughs. “Get my friend,” they pleaded.

You groaned. This had been their plan all along.

With quick steps, you made your way towards the pair. “Are you okay?” you asked your friend, narrowing your eyes at them in warning. Translation: you’re so dead when we’re alone.

Their eyes widened as they nodded. “I had a leg cramp,” they explained innocently, stretching out their right leg and wincing. “Oh look, all better!” with that they jumped up happily and walked back to your lounge chairs.

Your jaw dropped in surprise at their actions as they left you and the lifeguard to kneel on the floor alone. His eyes drifted back to meet yours and he coughed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck with flushed cheeks. The way your eyes peered curiously at him made him want to squeal like an excited child, but Juyeon managed to restrain himself. “Um, I hope they’re okay,” he said awkwardly instead.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” you assured him, feeling your face warm up. “Um, I’m really sorry about them,” you tried to apologise for your friend’s obvious, and terrible, acting.

The handsome lifeguard blinked innocently at you. “Oh, it’s fine. Leg cramps are really common and I wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt under my watch,” then he smiled in a way that made your insides melt, and you had to remind yourself to breathe.

He was the definition of breathtaking, and he seemed innocent and sweet enough to believe that your friend had really been in peril, which made him all the more cute. “I’m Juyeon,” he introduced himself, going to hold out his hand for you to shake before realising it was wet, and lowering it.

“I’m Y/n,” you replied, a laugh naturally escaping you without even trying. He was too sweet.

By the time you made your way back to your friend, they were already grinning at you with a knowing look on their face. “And you said I don’t have any magic,” they scoffed. “I wrote the book on magic, okay?”

“That was embarrassing as hell,” you said instead of agreeing with them. “Never do that again.”

Your friend ignored you. “What’s his name?” they asked.

You paused, getting comfortable on the lounge chair before facing them. “Juyeon,” you answered, and that was just as good as admitting their absurd plan had worked for your friend.

The bonfire was almost twice your own height by the time you arrived at the beach. Your friend had caught wind of the midnight bonfire from one of the waiters at the breakfast bar that morning, and had begged you to go almost all day long. After not seeing Juyeon at the pool all day, you were in the mood to get out of your head and eventually agreed to go.

You felt stupid looking for the lifeguard after only meeting him once, but there was something about him that made you want to get to know him better. Good looks aside, he was sweet and innocent and he had made your vacation a little more interesting by being your summer crush.

The night was slightly chilly, making you relieved that you had thought ahead and worn a cardigan so that you wouldn’t be cold. “Let’s get closer,” your friend suggested before dragging you to stand right by the fire pit. “Oh! It’s you,” their cheeky tone warned you of the fact that they had bumped into Juyeon before you even saw him. He looked comfortable in a short sleeve button up and jeans, and the fire illuminated his honey skin to make him appear as though he was truly glowing. “You saved my life,” your friend told him.

He laughed a low chuckle. “Ah, it’s just my job,” he waved it off with a small shrug. Then, his eyes met yours. “It’s good to see you again, Y/n,” Juyeon greeted.

The fact that he remembered your name shouldn’t have been such a big deal, but it definitely felt like a sign to you. You smiled. “You too,” you assured him. “What brings you here?”

“My friends Kevin and Jacob organised the bonfire,” Juyeon explained, pointing them out nearby. “I figured I might as well do something other than work all summer long,” he added with a bashful smile.

“Great idea,” your friend chimed. “I’m going to get some drinks, Y/n?” they offered but you waved them off, uninterested. Music started playing softly through a bluetooth speaker, and for a moment you were nervous that Juyeon would ask you to dance. You weren’t so confident in your ability to remember to breathe around him, nonetheless actually dance in an appealing way.

Almost as if he sensed your nerves, Juyeon held out his hand to you. “Want to see something cool?” he offered, titling his head slightly at you. Shrugging, you took his hand and let him lead you away from the bonfire and to a darker part of the beach.

“This is super suspicious, just so you know,” you informed him in a teasing tone. You weren’t actually nervous to be alone with Juyeon, there was something soothing about his presence that made you feel at ease.

Juyeon laughed. “Don’t you trust me?” he teased you right back.

“Well,” you hummed. “All I know about you is that you’re a lifeguard, your name is Juyeon, and that your friends are all back at the bonfire along with mine.”

“All the more reason to follow me,” he grinned, coming to a stop further down the beach. “Now,” Juyeon said, gently taking you by the shoulders to stand in front of him. “Look at this,” he pointed up, and you followed his finger until you saw a small cluster of golden lights leisurely twirling through the air.

Realisation struck you and you gasped audibly. “Oh my god,” you exclaimed. “Are those fireflies?”

Said fireflies were floating about the sky, some above you and some lower at the water, exploring their surroundings. “You ever seen those before?” you shook your head at Juyeon’s question. “They usually like to be in marshy, forest areas. But the other night I saw them close to here, exploring the shore.”

“This is incredible,” you admitted, eyes following the small glowing insects as they soar. “What makes them glow?” you asked, feeling Juyeon’s chest against your back as he inched closer.

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s the same reason you and I are here right now,” you turn your head to look at Juyeon, curious. He was already smiling, as if he knew something that you didn’t. “Chemistry,” he whispered, making you laugh.

“That was cheesy.”

“Maybe so, but it’s true, isn’t it?”

You nod. “I suppose so,” you manage to agree.

Juyeon smiles. “Do you think I could kiss you?”

“I definitely think you should.”

When he kissed you, your eyes closed and you saw little dots of gold on the inside of your eyelids, perfectly mimicking the glow of the fireflies surrounding the both of you.

After your kiss with Juyeon, he seemed to be appearing everywhere you looked. At the pool when he was on duty, at the bar you and your friend were snacking at during his breaks, the beach during the sunset, and the dining hall for dinner. Your friend was pleased that you were finding something – or rather, someone – to entertain and soothe you after the difficult year you had at University.

Before you exited the pool for the day, Juyeon leaned down to whisper in your ear: “Meet me at the gate at midnight,” without any further explanation. Excited to spend more time with him, you easily nodded in agreement and left to tell your friend about your evening plans.

When the time came, you made your way down to the pool’s gate to meet Juyeon, finding it locked since the pool closed before sundown. As Juyeon approached you in a pair of board shorts and a t-shirt, waving a key in the air with an excited glint in his eyes, you quickly figured out what his plans for your night were. “Are you up for a midnight swim?” Juyeon wondered, greeting you with a hug. The small act of affection made an unavoidable and automatic smile appear on your lips.

“I’m up for anything,” you replied, winding your arms around his waist and leaning back enough to smile at Juyeon. “As long as you don’t get into trouble for it?” you added, eyeing the thick metal lock on the pool gates.

“I won’t get in trouble if we don’t get caught,” he retorted with a small wink, lifting his hand to gently stroke your cheek with his thumb. This was something you liked a lot about being with Juyeon: everything always felt easy and relaxed. “I’ve never gone for a midnight dip before, and I figure a lit-up pool is safer than the ocean.”

“Ah yes,” you laughed. “Safety first. How could I forget that I’m amidst Lee Juyeon, lifeguard extraordinaire.”

Juyeon burst out laughing at your words, eyes crinkling with his widened grin. He gave a shy smile when he was done, opening the gate to the pool for you and allowing you to enter first. Slightly excited at the idea of sneaking around with Juyeon, you made your way towards the pool, closely followed by Juyeon.

As you and Juyeon started undressing down to your bathing suits, you eyed the empty lifeguard chair that he usually occupied. “You’re pretty distracting up there on your little chair, you know?” you admitted, tucking your hair behind your ears.

“Me?” Juyeon exclaimed, pausing while attempting to take off his t-shirt. “I’m the one that has to work and pretend that I’m not sneaking glances at you every minute because you’re so captivating,” he argued, shaking his head in disbelief.

You snuck a quick look at his torso, half exposed from where he was paused. “You’re clueless,” you accused with a sigh, not understanding how Juyeon couldn’t understand how attractive he was. “Now hurry up, I want to swim,” you added with a slight whine.

At your encouragement, the two of you had soon made your way into the lukewarm water of the pool, gently splashing each other in a playful manner. Rather than swimming laps or diving in the water, you and Juyeon decided to stand in the water next to each other and see how the water trickled from your hands to his, underneath yours.

Although the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, you still wished to know more about the boy in front of you. “What’s your biggest fear?” you wondered, watching how little droplets of water sliding down the side of your palm fell into Juyeon’s larger palm.

Each time your fingertips brushed against his palm, tingles shot from the very tips of your fingers down to your toes. Warmth spread throughout your body. You always felt warm when you were with Juyeon.

Juyeon made a quiet sound akin to a chuckle, but thought about his answer. “Heartbreak,” he told you. You paused playing with the water to observe his expression. Usually, his eyes smiled whenever you looked at him. Now, his eyes seemed to be lost in something else.

“Funny,” you said. “That’s mine, too.”

The realisation that whatever the two of you were doing – be it dating casually or just having an exciting summer fling – might end in both of your biggest fear put a temporary stop to the careless relaxation you had been experiencing up until that point.

“I guess we just won’t break each other’s hearts,” Juyeon said it so simply that you believed him. 

Believed that you could have nothing but a small, summer fling with Juyeon. That maybe you wouldn’t fall for the kind-eyed man in front of you, and that your summer wouldn’t end in heartbreak.

So you smiled back at him and agreed.

Silently, you and Juyeon agreed to keep things fun and casual that summer. You had in depth conversations about your hopes and dreams for your futures; the lives you intended to live after your education was over. However, you never told one another things about your everyday lives that could make you get attached to one another. You didn’t speak about where you lived, your daily schedule, or what you looked for in a partner.

Lying beside Juyeon, your thighs brushing his and hands intertwined on his chest, felt comfortable; familiar. The night was still fairly warm out despite it being well past midnight, and the two of you had decided to lie down by the beach and admire the night sky.

The stars were so bright that evening, glowing and shimmering as if they had come out just so you could admire them. The glow they released felt like little fireflies hung up in the sky, as though you could reach out and touch them.

“I don’t know,” you answered Juyeon’s question about what you wanted to do as a career. Your tone caused Juyeon to turn his head to face you. His hair was still damp, and it fell flat against his forehead in a short fringe. You angled your body to face his, raising your hand to run your fingers through his hair. The intimate action didn’t seem to bother Juyeon, and you tried to ignore the way it made your stomach swirl. “I’m always scared to think about it. I just finished my third year of Uni, and I still have no idea what I want to do.”

“You have all the options in the world open to you,” Juyeon rephrased your troubles lightly. “All you have to do is reach out and take them.” he paused, closing his eyes to relish in the feeling of your hands in his hair. “I know what I want to do.”

“Yeah?” you asked, tightening Juyeon’s zip-up hoodie around your frame as the breeze blew stronger; the sound of waves crashing against the shore music to your ears. “What’s that?”

“I want to be a dancer,” Juyeon said. “I want to perform for others and tell a story. I want to sweat and bleed and hurt for it. Because I want to be perfect,” he chuckled. “I guess that’s my fatal flaw. Perfectionism.”

“Perfectionism is hardly fatal,” you disagreed. “Then go out there. Hurt and bleed and do it.”

“I wish it were that easy,” Juyeon muttered, pulling you gently against him. The moderate rhythm of his heart beat tenderly against your ear. “I just don’t know how to tell my parents. They still think I’m majoring in Economics. Guess I have one more year to tell them,” somehow, his statement managed to make the both of you laugh.

You mentally noted that you were in the same year of University, something personal that the both of you had agreed not to talk about. It would be foolish to get your hopes up about Juyeon wanting something serious with you; you forced yourself to let go of the idea altogether.

After all, you were scared of heartbreak too.

“Why is it so easy to talk to you?” Juyeon marvelled. “When I’m with my friends, I always feel like I never have a clue about anything. They’re always faster, wittier, and smarter than me. But with you, I feel like I can take my time.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you pondered on how to respond. Not only had Juyeon captured exactly how you felt around him, but he had made a statement so personal that you couldn’t ignore it.

“You can take your time,” you decided to say. “We have all summer long.”

As the summer was coming to an end, you were already dreading having to say goodbye to Juyeon. He introduced you to his friends throughout the summer, too. Jacob and Kevin from the bonfire, and Hyunjae the bartender from the hotel bar. You understood what Juyeon meant about feeling slow; his friends were balls of energy and quick-wit. You had spent every night with him, walking the beach, exploring the island, and forgetting any of your troubles. The next day, you would always bring your friend to the places you had adventured through the night before; recounting your escapades with Juyeon and admiring how different things looked in the light.

“You really like this guy,” your friend realised immediately. “And not just in a hot lifeguard way.”

You smiled sadly. “Yeah,” you admitted. “I don’t want to say goodbye to him.” The view of the beach during the day with the sun shining wasn’t the same as the way the beach appeared at night. You almost wanted it to be dark every time you went to the ocean.

Your friend smiled. “Maybe you don’t have to? Long distance relationships can work out, too.”

“He doesn’t want to be in a relationship,” you denied.

With a small shake of their head, your friend asked “How do you know that?”

“Because he’s afraid of heartbreak,” you looked out into the sea, observing the families and couples playing in the water together and laughing.

“I’ve heard that before,” your friend recalled all the times you used that as an excuse during the semester. “You know, I love heartbreak.” With wide eyes, you faced your friend to listen to their reasoning. “If I get heartbroken, at least it means I felt something.”

“Well, yes,” you allowed. “But why would you want to put yourself and your feelings out in the world, only to have them broken and exploited?”

“Who cares?” your friend said. “Who cares if my feelings get broken and exploited? How am I ever going to feel anything – love, happiness, admiration – if I’m so scared of being hurt that I never let myself feel it to begin with?”

You knew your friend was right. The more you got to know Juyeon, the more you knew that no matter how hard you tried, it was impossible to prevent yourself from feeling an emotion you truly felt.

“I know that,” you confessed in a mumble. “That doesn’t mean that he feels the same.”

“Maybe you should try asking him?” your friend proposed. “Maybe he’ll surprise you. And maybe you should do it today, before we have to leave this afternoon,” they added, patting you gently on the shoulder and giving you their best encouraging smile.

You had already told Juyeon that you were leaving that day. He had mentioned that he had a shift at the pool in the early afternoon, but he promised that he would get away and say his goodbyes to you.

Perhaps you were holding on to his promise a little too tightly. That was why you felt so destroyed when Juyeon never showed, and you had to get the taxi on the way to the airport so you wouldn’t miss your flight.

“Are you okay?” your friend asked, sympathetic to your feelings.

“I’m okay,” you said. “Maybe I shouldn’t be so scared of being heartbroken. It seems like I have no control over that, anyway.”

When autumn came, you welcomed the cold.

The cold meant that you no longer had to think about Juyeon. Autumn in Seoul meant the leaves falling in magnificent shades of burnt orange and yellow, and it also meant going back to University for your final year of your degree. When school started again, you were thankful for the distraction. The more specialised and specific your classes became, the better idea you got of what you wanted to do with your degree in the future.

Coming out of a counselling session with your career counsellor, you felt confident with the options the two of you had come up with for careers to look in to. “I’ll be at the café soon,” you told your friend over the phone, almost rolling your eyes at their excitement over it being Friday. “Yes I promise. No more than ten minutes. Yes, I swear.”

As you hung up the phone, you hardly noticed someone in a black coat walking by you. “I’m so sorry!” the man exclaimed, picking up your dropped phone and handing it over to you. “I hope nothing happened to it,” he said.

You examined your phone, discovering that the screen wasn’t cracked and seemed to be functioning just find. “Don’t even worry about it,” you assured the man, glancing up at his bespectacled face. You paused. “I’m sorry, are you Jacob?” you asked him, vaguely recognising his face.

The man chuckled. “Kevin, actually,” he corrected. “It’s Y/n, right?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m not so great with names. Not that I was really trying to remember this summer, anyway,” you added awkwardly.

Kevin hummed. “Do you go to school here?”

“I do,” you nodded.

“Me too,” Kevin smiled.

Your eyes widened. “You go to school with Juyeon, though,” you recalled. “That means…”

“He goes here too,” Kevin finished for you. He studied your expression. “You should really talk to him. I think that a few things got mixed up between you guys and I’d hate for you to keep thinking poorly of my friend.”

Talking to Juyeon again just when you were getting over thinking of him didn’t seem like the wisest idea to you. And yet, “Okay,” you agreed. “I’ll meet him.”

It seemed almost too ironic that Juyeon was waiting for Kevin in the same café your friend was waiting in. When you saw the two sitting together, you realised why your friend was so desperate to get you to the café quickly. Sneaky.

“Hey,” you greeted Juyeon, taking a seat opposite him as your friend and Kevin gave you some privacy.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t meet you,” Juyeon apologised. “I know this sounds ridiculous but I got fired for breaking into the pool at night.”

You hadn’t been expecting that. “What?”

“The manager saw that someone had been breaking into the pool after hours. It seemed that he hadn’t gotten the keys on the nights where I locked up, so he pretty quickly figured out who it was,” Juyeon was sheepish to admit. “They escorted me out of the hotel so I couldn’t stay to talk to you.”

“Why didn’t you call?” you wondered.

Juyeon smirked. “It’s not like we exchanged numbers,” he argued.

“That stupid not falling in love and not getting heartbroken bullshit,” you sighed.

Juyeon rose an eyebrow. “You think it’s bullshit too?” he asked. “Glad to hear it. I was getting pretty sick of it by the end of the summer too.”

“Tell me about it,” you grinned. “So, we go to the same University,” you stated the obvious.

“Looks like it,” Juyeon grinned back at you. “I don’t know. It almost seems like it’s fate or something.”

You snorted. “Fate? Three months ago you refused to fall in love, and now you believe in fate?”

“People change,” Juyeon defended himself. “Especially when they meet someone worth changing for.”

You rose an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh really?”

Juyeon leaned forward. “Go on a date with me,” he requested. You merely smiled disbelievingly at him. “Seriously,” Juyeon insisted, eyes slightly narrowed with focus. “I’ve had three months to get to know you and I’ve been missing you for two more. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Your stomach fluttered with butterflies. You didn’t have to think about your answer for even one second. You were already head over heels for him. “And if we get heartbroken?” you asked quietly.

Juyeon cocked his head to the side, his familiar eye-smile appearing as he realised you felt the same as him. “Then at least I know that I loved you.”

note: this took me so long to write i’ve been working on it for a whole month. i hope you enjoyed it!!

updated note: guys i wrote this fic a year before thrill ride came out i basically predicted the future lmaooo

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

Peter comforting upset reader

Summary: reader is upset that they weren’t able to register for the fall classes they wanted and Peter helps them feel better. This is based off what happened to me today. I wasn’t able to register for any of the fall classes I needed because my school never said when registration opened. So now I have horrible class times to where I have to stay there from 9am to 5:45 pm and I can’t leave cause I’m a commuter student. I’m ready upset but writing this is helping me get through it. Since Peter can’t really hold me in his arms and tell me it was going to get better I wrote it!

Warnings: Angst, fluff

Word count: 1876

You were sitting at the dining room table with your head in your hands. You looked up at the glaring white screen showing your registered classes for the fall semester of college. Your university had failed to tell you when registration was, you only found out because you received an email saying that you haven't registered yet. In a panic you had quickly logged on and tried your best to get the classes you needed. Only to find them full or restricted for some unnamed reasons. If only that stupid advisor had told you when registration was. For God’s sake you had a meeting with him last week! He could have told you but he didn't and now your classes were all a mess. 

You let your head fall back into your hands. All your classes were at weird times and none of them worked with one another. Everyday of the week you had a class at 9 and then one at 3 that didn't end until 5:45. That wouldn't be a problem if you lived on campus. You could just go to the classes then head back to your dorm and chill in between them. But you were a commuter. You lived almost an hour away from campus, driving there and back twice a day four times a week was not feasible. It was going to take way too much gas, and since you had to stay at the school all day it meant you wouldn't have any time for yourself for the entirety of the fall semester. 

You had called the school begging them to help you but they said it was your own fault for missing the registration day. You tried your best to explain that you never got any emails about registration and they just said that they sent them. You must have not checked your email. You hung up and went to your parents hoping that maybe they could talk to the school, But all they did was dismiss you and ask why you missed registration, they were blaming you. They also said that maybe those classes wouldn't be that bad and to just take the four classes you were able to secure. You explained to them that in only taking four classes you would mess up your graduation plan but they just said you would take summer courses or something. They didn't get it, you were there on a scholarship if you took a summer course you were going to have to pay out of pocket, something you couldn't afford at the moment. 

You were so mad you wanted to scream, but at the same time you just wanted to break down and cry. You slammed your laptop shut and made your way out of the house grabbing the keys off the hook, telling your parents you were going for a drive to cool down. You pulled out of the driveway and made your way to the one person you knew could make you feel better. But as soon as you pulled up to Peter’s house you regretted coming. You didn't want to bother him with something as stupid as being upset over your class registration. So you sat in your parked car by the curb in front of his house and just laid your head down on the steering wheel. 

Peter had seen you pull up and a smile made his way to his face. He loved when you came to see him, he looked out the window waiting for you to come out of your car and make your way to the door. After a couple minutes you were still sitting in your car huddled over the wheel, Peter exited his house and made his way over to your truck. He tapped lightly on the driver's window making you jump. You lifted your head and rolled the window down, putting on your best fake smile. Peter looked at your concern in his eyes. “(y/n) what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing!” You said in an obviously fake cheery voice. He watched you struggle to maintain your smile, it shaking and the corners dipping every few seconds. Peter reached through the window, wiping away the tears you didn't even know were falling. That soft gesture broke you. You leaned into his hand and broke down crying.

 “Hey, it’s okay.” Peter said softly opening the door to your truck, the minute he fully opened it your collapsed into his arms. Holding onto his shirt and wailing into it. He gently picked you up and you clinged on even tighter to him. He took his time walking you into his house and down the stairs into the basement. He set you down on his bed and kneeled down in front of you. “(y/n) what’s wrong.” 

You kept crying, mumbling through your tears. “It’s nothing, it’s stupid.” You were so ashamed to be crying in front of him you kept your eyes shut. 

Peter lifted your head by your chin. “(y/n) look at me.” You reluncalty opened your eyes to meet his own. “If it’s making you this upset it can’t be nothing.” His soft brown eyes watched yours, patiently waiting for you to tell him. You calmed yourself down the best you could and told him what had happened. All about missing the registration day, not getting any of the classes you really needed to how your parents didn't even seem to care. He didn't interrupt you, just listened to you, giving your thigh a soft comforting squeeze every now and then. When you finished he finally spoke. 

“That’s awful, I'm so sorry.”

“It’s all my fault.” You hiccupped out.

“No it’s not.” He said firmly. “They should have told you when registration was. They should be worrying about fixing this, not you.” He took your hand in his own. “On Monday I’m going to go to your school and straighten this all out. You know how persuasive I can be.” He joked, you let out a light laugh. 

You wiped away your tears with the back of your hand trying to get up to leave. “It’s okay. It’s not that big of a deal. I shouldn't even be this upset about it.” You said attempting to joke, he just frowned at you. He lightly pulled you back down to sit on the bed.

“No it's not.” He said firmly. “They messed up, this is their fault not yours. You have a right to be upset.” You started to cry again at the fact that he ackowdlged that your feelings were relevant. He didn't try to dismiss them. “If we can get them to change that will be amazing, and if we can't that’s okay.” You opened your mouth to protest but Peter continued on. “Sometimes things happen that we can’t control like this. That doesn't mean the world is going to end. You have a lot of credits, only taking four this semester isn't the worst thing that could happen.” He got up off the floor and sat down on the bed next to you, You felt it dip under his added weight.

“But if I don’t get the six classes this semester I’m going to graduate a semester late.” You looked up at time, tears in your eyes. “I was going to graduate early, in three years instead of four and now I’m going to mess it all up. 

Peter turned his body to face yours, and he made you do the same. “(y/n) It’s going to be okay, you could use this break. You’ve been so tired lately taking all those extra classes a semester. You are burning yourself out. It’s okay to take breaks every now and then. Maybe this is going to be a good thing, You’ll be under less stress and you’ll have more time during the day to study. And you didn't think I wasn’t going to visit you did ya.” You looked back up at him and gave him a small smile. “That’s right I’ll come and see you in between classes, and if you want I can take you home too. That way you don’t have to spend all day there. And when it comes to graduating early, baby you still are! Graduating a semester earlier is still super impressive. You’re too hard on yourself.”

You surpsied him by pulling him into a tight huf. “Thank you Peter.” Your vocie was muffled by the close proximety. You pulled away after a while. “

“Do you wanna get some food or something?” He asked.

You gave him a a weak smile. “Is it okay if we just lay here for a while? I’m still a little uspet.” 

“Of course. And you have a right to be.” He said, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Don’t let anyone ever make you think your feelings aren’t valid.” You pushed down the new wave of tears as you laid down beside Peter. You laid with your back to his chest. He scooted himself closed, wrapping his arms around your figure. You tucked your hands into yourself and let yourself cry, to feel all the things you’d been holding in. He gently ran his hand along your arm in a soothing, repetitive motion. Pressing soft kisses on the back of your neck. His touch making all your problems disappear.