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makoodlesarchive · 4 years ago

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when i was young i fell into a river

pairing: kirishima x reader

word count: 5k

warnings: none, really! a bit of angst, a bit of fluff i guess?

notes: hello, it's me, back again with some writing! it's been a long time and i'm very sorry about that, but i've finally gotten around to writing and posting my spirited away au! i'm v stressed with college so this turned out more vent-y than i had originally intended, but hopefully it's enjoyable anyway! thank you all for being so patient with me, i am endlessly grateful for you

The dream is the same as always, comforting in its familiarity.

A salt-scented breeze cools your sweat-soaked brow as you pause behind one of the sliding screen doors, the rice paper windows doing nothing to block out the chatter of the other workers. The bubbling noise of the bathhouse is constant, and the quiet little moments you steal away for yourself in the middle of the working day is the only solitude you’ve gotten since you came here. The work is physically back-breaking, but you know that you’re working towards a goal. It’s just a shame that you can’t remember exactly what that goal is.

One of the other girls calls your name, and you sigh as your unofficial break comes to an end. You slip back into the room, ignoring the way the frog spirits snicker and hold their noses as you pass. They like to complain a lot about your human stench, but it doesn’t stop them from threatening to eat you every time you make a mistake. Fear, you’ve found, is an uncomfortably successful motivator.

The days bleed into one another, full of scrubbing dark wooden floors and the rich earthy scents of the herbal mixes they use in the baths. The spirits that frequent the bathhouse, that once inspired so much awe and fear in your heart, become so commonplace that you hardly spare them a glance anymore. From the cackling masked spirits that always travel in threes to the grinning cat spirits to the sombre, unspeaking river spirits, you only go as far as to offer them a polite bow before scurrying out of their way. They never spare you any attention, anyway -- most of the time, the spirits’ eyes seem to look right through you.

All but one, that is.

He looks to be a boy around your age, but appearances can be deceiving around here. His red eyes are often dull and blank, but even so they have a certain ageless quality about them that no human twelve-year-old could ever possess. His scarlet hair sticks up in gravity-defying spikes, and his skin is as smooth and clear as running water. His face is often stuck in a carefully cultivated blank expression; the only thing about him that doesn’t seem intimidatingly otherworldly are the deep purple shadows under his eyes.

He helped you once, when you first came here. The rare act of kindness had stuck in your head, made even more remarkable in the face of the following weeks and months of harsh work and cruel co-workers. You wonder if he remembers; he doesn’t often look at you, but sometimes when he does you swear you can see a flicker of something in his eyes.

Two of the girls start yelling at each other, arguing heatedly over the way the work is being divided. A foreman appears to break up the fight, but then they both start shouting at him instead. You take the moment of distraction to relax, wincing at the pull of your tired muscles in the back of your neck. All the other girls working at the bath house are older and bigger than you, which means you need to work twice as hard to keep up with them and prove that you’re worth keeping around.

In the brief moment of rest, your eyes are drawn slowly to the corridor, where guests and workers alike bustle past as they travel to the treatment rooms and bathtubs deeper into the bathhouse. As if you’ve conjured him just by thinking about him, the boy stands in the doorway.

You straighten up on instinct, suddenly self-conscious of your sweat-soaked body and dishevelled uniform. He’s not even looking your way, preoccupied with the two girls who are still yelling at the frog foreman. Slowly though, his eyes began to travel the room, and you take a deep breath and hold it as his dull ruby gaze lands on you like a physical weight. You crack a nervous smile, feeling the muscles in your cheeks that have gone unused for weeks ache at the strain, and raise a hand to give him a tiny wave.

For just a moment, that blankness in his face seems to quiver and fall away. He smiles back.

You jolt awake, breathing heavily and coated in a light sheen of sweat. You’ve had the same dream, or some variation of it, regularly ever since you were twelve years old and while it’s become familiar to you, you still find yourself feeling vaguely panicked when you wake up after it, as though you’ve forgotten something very important.

Once your heartbeat has calmed down a little, you pull yourself out of bed and trudge into the kitchen to make yourself some tea. The weak, milky light of dawn filters in through the windows, lighting your apartment up just enough so that you don’t have to turn on a light to make your way around. You take your tea out to the balcony and sit, gazing out at the purplish early morning sky.

Most of the time when you wake up from those dreams you feel blessedly lucky to be living alone with no one to question or bother you, but sometimes you can’t help but be overcome by overwhelming loneliness. The dreams are silly and most of the time they don’t even make any sense, but in the aftermath of them you’re always left with a vague sense of unfulfillment, though you can’t put your finger exactly on what it is you’re missing. You always end up exactly like this; sitting outside on your balcony in the early morning light, drinking tea alone and desperately wishing for something more.

You sigh, and go back inside.

The dream is the same, but different.

The garden is in full bloom, greenery overlaid with bursts of beautiful bright colours. Camellias, rhododendrons, and oleanders wave and shiver gently in the warm breeze, and apple blossoms hang heavily from a nearby tree. The flowering garden is enormous and maze-like, and you have yet to see it in any state other than fully flourishing.

It’s a beautiful place, especially after the hot, cramped working quarters of the bathhouse. You inhale the sweetly fragranced air and feel the knot of tension in your spine unfurl; it feels like the first time that you’ve been able to breathe all week, but that’s not the only reason that you’ve found yourself outside.

At the bottom of the garden, the grass drops off into a sheer drop. The cliff face overlooks a seemingly endless ocean, and you perch a safe distance from the drop before leaning back in the grass. The sky is an almost surreally deep blue and you watch as enormous fluffy clouds float by, looking as though they’ve been painted on a jewel-blue canvas.

It’s not the first time you’ve had this dream, and you know what you’ll see if you keep patiently watching.

It doesn’t take long — it never does. You time your lunch breaks precisely, all so you get to see this sight.

The clear blue sky makes it so much easier to spot the shiny white scales, flashing jewel-bright in the sunlight. The dragon writhes in the sky, streaking through the air like a great serpent caught in the wind. Even from this distance, you can see the knife-like teeth, the great sharp claws that gleam like pyrite, and the twisting horns that erupt from his head like daggers made from calcified bone. He looks deadly, a living weapon that swims through the air like a salmon in open water, but the sight of him makes something settle in your stomach.

You wonder what it would feel like to fall through the air with nothing but the wind to break your fall. You imagine it must feel like freedom.

The dragon flutters through the air, buoyed by the gentle sea breeze. If you didn’t know better, you might almost think that he was showing off — his movements are hypnotic, dreamlike, more like a dance than anything. His scales glow pearlescent in the midday sun, otherworldly and earthly all at once.

You could happily stay and watch him skim through the sky forever, but already the bell is being rung to call all workers back into the bathhouse. You heave a sigh so deep it feels as though your chest is about to crack with the force of it, before hauling yourself to your feet.

Your break is over, and now it’s back to work.

Sometimes you find it difficult to tell when you’re dreaming and when you’re awake. It feels as though everything is always happening all at once, in the present tense, forever. You don’t get to rest when you close your eyes and drift off to sleep, because the dreams just keep coming and coming. Sometimes you don’t feel like your life is real when you’re awake.

Riding on the train has always been therapeutic, especially at this time of the early morning. The sun rising lazily over the horizon sends milky threads of purple and pink across the cloudy sky, and you cradle your chin in your hand as you gaze out across the moving landscape. You love these little trips, feeling more at home in the creaky, overfull train carriage than you do in your own bedroom sometimes, though you can’t quite work out where that particular feeling comes from.

You know sometimes that stories end with “And then I woke up — it was only a dream”, but in your experience the story simply doesn’t end. You cannot fully wake up without the tail-ends of your dreams clinging to you for the rest of the day, and you never fully sleep. You just dream, dream, dream.

Sighing, you lean your head back against the seat that you’re slumped in. The train carriage is too full, and you were lucky to get a seat in the first place — from your vantage point, you watch as people sway in tandem with the motion of the train. It’s almost hypnotic, how they undulate back and forth with every turn, brushing against each other only to be pulled apart again by the lurching train.

Through the sea of bodies, you catch a man’s eye. It breaks the monotony of the morning commute and your own spiralling thoughts, and your spine straightens unconsciously. He quirks an eyebrow briefly, slightly, in such a way that no one would be able to safely accuse him of having done it.

You look away, startled for no good reason. Do you know him? He feels familiar in a way that you can’t quite put your finger on. The train rattles on, and it takes several long minutes before you work up the nerve to glance the man’s way again. He’s still watching you, but you’re ready for it this time. His attention isn’t such a shock, and you allow your eyes to wander over his face properly.

You must know him, you think. Your eyes track over his features as though they’re winding over a well-worn path, admiring the curve of his nose and the fullness of his lips and the arch of his eyebrows over his intense, watchful eyes.

He smiles at you, and it feels as though you’re sharing a secret from across the crowded train carriage. You smile back — it’s just a small tug of the corners of your mouth, but it’s the most you’ve smiled in months. Longer, maybe.

In the middle of the carriage a woman laughs at something her friend has said and sways backward, blocking your view of the stranger. It feels like a loss.

The train trundles onwards, and the carriage gradually empties out. You watch people step off the train with friends, with their heads ducked low, lost in thought, arguing over the phone, distracted with their book bags. By the time it comes to your stop, the man is gone.

You try not to feel disappointed as you step off the train — it’s silly, after all. You don’t know the man, and whatever you thought you felt as you looked at each other was surely all in your own head. Your head has been awfully full, recently.

As you step off the train you grapple with your bag, side-stepping a businessman who is busy shouting down the phone at some unfortunate coworker. You’re distracted, which is the only reasonable explanation for how long it takes you to realise that the man from the train is standing in front of you.

“Oh.” You blurt, startled. You had already begun to resign yourself to never seeing him again, so you can’t help but feel distinctly caught off guard at the sight of him standing before you. “Hi.”

“Hello.” The man says. He’s looking at you expectantly, but you have no idea what he’s waiting for — as it is, you get completely distracted by his eyes. You hadn’t noticed on the train, but now that he’s up close you see that they’re a truly unusual deep burgundy. He tilts his head when you remain silent, and bites his lip. Now that you’re really looking, you notice how sharp his teeth are. “You’ve barely changed at all.”

You blink at him. “Er…” You trail off nervously. You don’t recognise him, but you feel like you know him. Clearly, he thinks that he knows you.

“It’s fitting, isn’t it? Meeting again on a train?” He smiles, and it’s an impossibly knowing expression. You don’t think you’ve ever been on the receiving end of a look that intimate in your life, though you have no idea what he’s talking about.

Someone collides hard with your shoulder and you stagger for balance. You only look away from the man for a mere second, but it’s enough; when you look again, he’s gone.

You take to walking. There’s a wooded area behind the town, and you enjoy traipsing idly through the trees. Ancient roots erupt out of the dirt and fan over the ground like hairs, and the moss that covers the trunks of the trees is such a deep green that it almost seems like paint pigment. It’s soothing, being surrounded by nature like this. It reminds you of childhood — the simplicity of being able to jump over tree roots under a canopy of pale green leaves, of being able to leave all your thoughts and stress at the boundary of the forest.

It’s where you come after waking sweat-soaked and disoriented from a dream that clings to you like a burr, where you walk among the ferns and the needle-leaved weeds until you manage to shake the last vestiges of memory from your mind. You need it, especially in the mornings where you wake up with the acrid scent of herbal cleanser stinging in your nose or the bite of hard calluses on your palms from non-existent rough cloths. On mornings like that, you walk and walk until you no longer feel as though you’re more alive in your dreams than you are in reality.

Deep in the forest is a great red facade, painted a flaking, faded red. You wander by it frequently, admiring the overgrown greenery that crawls up the walls like reaching fingers, the mossy stone guardian that stands sentinel amongst the cracked flagstones that lead into the tunnelled entrance. You’ve asked around in the town, curious about what exactly this building was for, but most of the locals either don’t know what building you’re talking about or admit that they’re not sure. One man told you that the facade was built for a theme park in the 90s that had ended up going bust in the recession, and that the building only looked old.

You remain unconvinced on that front. The building has the kind of presence that only very old things have; it feels like it’s watching you.

For the most part, your walks in the forest are peaceful. Recently though, you’ve found yourself plagued by an insistent, irritating sense of deja vu. You don’t know where it’s coming from, and it hits you at the strangest of times — when you’re making tea, or in the bath, or cleaning your apartment, or on the train, or admiring the sky on a cloudless day.

The man from the train is the boy in your dreams. It takes you weeks to come to that realisation. You just wake up in the middle of the night on a random Tuesday, with wide eyes and clammy skin and his name slipping from the forefront of your mind.

It shouldn’t be possible, but once it dawns on you, you’re certain of it.

Even stranger is that once you realise it, it feels as though you see him everywhere. You see flashes of red hair when you’re walking down the street, when you’re grocery shopping, when you’re walking home late at night. It’s only ever the barest glance out of the corner of your eye, just overt enough for you to know it’s him, but subtle enough for you to question yourself immediately after.

One night, you travel to a local city to meet some old school friends. At night, the city seems to pulse. The music from seedy clubs spills out into the neon-lit streets, muffled shouted arguments echoes from alleyways and apartments alike, and the streets are peppered with people either scurrying or stumbling home, with very little variation. Though the perpetually overcast sky hides any trace of the moon or stars, the streetlamps reflect in the ever-present stagnant puddles littering the street, lighting them up in varying shades of sickly yellow.

At night, the city seems alive. Chronically ill and struggling to breathe, maybe, but clinging to life all the same.

The way the neon lights flicker in the gloomy darkness, just barely illuminating the shadows of people hurrying through the streets to get in out of the rain, reminds you of something you can’t quite remember. It sits in the back of your mind like a sour taste, but no matter how much you reach for the memory it remains just out of reach.

You spend most of the night staring out of the steamed up window of the pub, entranced by the sight of the night streets and frustrated by the memories that seem to dangle just out of reach. You know that it doesn’t make for good company, and you feel guilty for that. Your friends don’t seem overly surprised at your detachment. You’ve been drifting away for years, and though tonight was supposed to be all about reconnecting it seems clear that it’s not going to work.

When you eventually stand up to leave, with forced smiles and awkward goodbyes, you can’t help but feel melancholy settle over you like a second skin. As you slip out of the pub and onto the dark streets, the thought crosses your mind that you’re not used to being alone like this. It’s a silly thought, really; you’ve been alone for years. But sometimes, in those liminal moments between waking and sleeping, you swear you can hear the gentle drowsy breaths of dozens of people sleeping all around you, as though you’re surrounded on all sides. On those nights you wake up hot and claustrophobic and uncomfortable, but never feeling lonely.

It is probably your own fault, you reflect as you drift down the sidewalk like a ghost. It’s difficult to make an effort to know people when you feel as though you don’t know yourself. You don’t know how to bridge the distance between yourself and other people. You think sometimes that you’re missing chunks of yourself.

You pass an open shopfront that’s serving street food, and glance briefly in at the kitchen. The cook is illuminated only dimly in the smoky room, standing out as a shadow figure more than anything, and for a split second you could swear that he has six arms. You look away quickly and carry on walking — you don’t want to look again only to be proven wrong. You want to preserve that little second of magic strangeness for as long as you can.

The puddles on the street seem like they’re glowing with the light reflected from the neon streetlamps, and you weave your way carefully around them to avoid getting your feet wet. The night has a strange quality about it, almost as though it’s holding its breath.

Considering the combination of your pensive mood and the expectant air of the evening, you don’t feel surprised at all when you look up from the wet cobblestones to find the man standing only a few feet ahead of you.

He smiles like he’s nervous, his gaze tracking carefully over your face. In his hands, he’s holding flowers. Camellias, you think. It’s the first time since you first saw him on the train that hasn’t been a fleeting glance out of the corner of your eye— he’s here in front of you and he’s real and solid and sturdy. He seems more substantial than the streets around you, than your friends back at the pub had been.

“Do you remember me?” He asks, voice soft as though he’s afraid of the answer.

“Remember you?” You croak. It feels as though the words are catching inside your throat. “No. But I’ve seen you every night in my dreams for years.”

If that’s the answer he’s expecting, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps looking at you, your face, your body. You wonder exactly it is that he’s seeing. “These are for you.” He says eventually, holding out the flowers. “I didn’t- I wanted to bring you something, when I saw you again. And I know that you always liked the garden.”

He’s talking as if the places that you’ve dreamed about are real. It doesn’t come as the earth-shattering surprise you might have expected — rather, it feels like a key turning in an old lock. A click, and then a sense of yes, that’s right.

You take the flowers, and clutch them to your chest. They’re a fleshy pink, with a vibrant yellow centre. The petals are as soft as velvet. Holding them feels like holding a safety blanket. “Thank you.” It’s the only thing that you can manage to say right now. Your thoughts are too full, and nothing else makes it out of your mouth.

It’s rather startling, the feelings that bubble up in your chest. It feels like something has just been unlocked, as though you had stored away all this emotion somewhere deep in your ribcage and then forgotten about it only for it to resurface at this precise moment, for this precise person.

“Eijirou.” You croak. “Kirishima Eijirou.”

His whole face brightens, and his eyes sparkle. “Yes. That’s me. You do remember!”

They’re not quite memories, you don’t think. They come in dreamlike flashes — the garden, an ocean, train tracks, the feral snarling of a dragon with sharp teeth, hard work and hot food, friends.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” Kirishima is saying, his face open and earnest. “But I told you that I’d come and find you again, remember?”

You do remember, sort of. A flash of a warm hand holding yours, pushing you forward over a boundary between one world and another, and a goodbye whispered behind you that sounds like a promise.

“You saved me.”

Kirishima laughs, though his eyes look a little shiny. “It was the other way around, actually. I would have stayed trapped in that bathhouse forever, if it weren’t for you.”

“The bathhouse.” You murmur, wide-eyed. It was real, real, real.

“Things are different now.” He edges closer to you. He’s large and imposing and taller than you, but he’s hunched slightly in an attempt to make himself unthreatening. “That’s why it took so long for me to come for you. Things were changing. Me and Katsuki run the bathhouse now.”

Katsuki. In your mind's eye you see a boy with wild blond hair and a dangerous look in his eyes, a boy who gives you extra rice when he can manage and takes over parts of your chores when you get so tired that you’re fit to pass out.

“I didn’t mean to make you wait.” He says quietly, and the tide of emotion that you had just barely been holding at bay comes crashing over you. Before the first tear has welled over the edge of your eyelids, Kirishima has stepped forward and wrapped you in his arms. The flowers are crushed between your chests as you cry.

“I didn’t even know what I was waiting for.” You cry into his silk suikan.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers into your hair. “I’m here now. I’m not going to leave again.”

You don’t release your grip on him. You’re not willing to take the chance.

After a moment, Kirishima speaks again. “Are you ready to go?”

“Go?” You echo, finally pulling away. “Go where?”

“Home.” He says, and he means the bathhouse. He means the spirit world.

“You want me to work for you?”

“I want you to help us run it.” He corrects. The distinction is important for both of you — though the memories are distant, you both know what it feels like to have your names and voices erased so cleanly that it makes you wonder if you ever existed fully at all.

“I don’t know anything about running a bathhouse. Especially not one for spirits.” You say, but Kirishima just laughs.

“You were always a hard worker. You’ll learn as you go. That’s what we’ve all been doing.”

You want to say yes. The word beats in your head like a drum, and you can’t think of a good reason to say no. The bathhouse. Home. The chance to feel real and awake at the same time.

“Okay.” You say on a breath, staring at him with wide eyes. “Stay with me, this time.”

When Kirishima’s face lights up in a smile, it’s the first time that you think you can accurately describe someone as incandescently happy. “Good luck getting rid of me again.”

You laugh, feeling nearly delirious with relief and joy. It’s real. He’s real. He’s come back for you, and now you’re going back with him. You think you should probably feel nervous or hesitant, but this brief encounter has felt more solid and right than the rest of the night spent with distant school-friends made uncomfortable by your silences.

“So, how do we get there?” You ask, but Kirishima just grins at you like you should already know the answer.

The train station is tucked away down an alley just off a busy main shopping district.

“It’s easy to miss if you don’t know exactly where you're going.” Kirishima tells you with a sharp smile, and it’s easy to believe. The red brick building that housed the train station is unmarked, and the trains couldn’t be seen from the main street. The alley itself is home to many curious sights -- paper lanterns bob overhead (though they don’t seem to be suspended by anything in particular), a yellowed flyer from the 1950s advertising Marlboro cigarettes drifts along on what seems to be a breeze despite the noticeable lack of wind, and three magpies sit on a wall wearing little golden timepieces on chains around their necks and caw in time with the ticking.

“Ready to go home?” Kirishima asks quietly. In his hand, two train tickets flutter in a non-existent breeze.

A family of mice scamper past your feet, pulling a miniature suitcase between them. A tall, thin woman wearing a blank white mask assists them onto the train.

You laugh at the whimsy of it all — it feels as though you’ve stepped into a fairytale, into a dream, into your childhood. “Yes,” You grin, “I’m ready.”

Kirishima beams back at you, and holds out a hand to help you onto the train. Finding a seat was easy — despite all the passengers you had seen boarding, the carriage was oddly empty. As soon as you’re seated, you sigh. It feels as though you’re sinking into an old overstuffed armchair, comfortable and familiar. When the whistle blows and the train starts moving, you turn eagerly to watch as the train begins to pick up speed. Within moments, you find that you can barely recognise the landscape blurring past the window — It seems that you’re zooming passed a beautiful sea-view, despite the fact that the city the train station was located in was conspicuously land-locked. You sigh happily and lean against your seat.

You still don’t remember everything about your experience in the spirit world all those years ago, but you think you remember hearing someone telling you “Once you meet someone you never really forget them. It just takes a while for your memories to return."

You make eye contact with Eijirou, who smiles back at you so fondly that it nearly hurts to look at. He’s changed so much from the boy in your dreams, in your memories. His eyes are no longer glassy and distant — now they’re shiny and expressive and so bright. His hair is longer too; still spiked and wild, but longer and curling softly over the curve of his neck and shoulders. He’s the boy your remember from all those years ago, but he’s also a man now. Grown, like you have, but smiling at you gently just like you’re ten years old again.

Through the window behind his head, the sunrise begins to bathe the water in delicate pinks and yellows. You’ll wait for as long as you need to for the memories to return, but even if they don’t that’s alright. You can just make new ones.

#this is so cheesy lol but whatever i've been staring at this doc for too long and i want it out of my sight #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #kirishima eijirou #ghibli au #kirishima eijiro fluff #kirishima x y/n #mha x reader

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ciggylungz · 5 years ago

Text

Show me yours

Blurb night- 1.8k words

(Request: Maybe more catholic school H but there bestfriend and there both v innocent and its their first time trying _______ (whatever you want) just a thought? (For the possible blurb night.)

“Did you hear what Lily was saying about Connor?”

y/n looked up when she heard Harry’s voice, the two of them in his room trying to finish their shared art project. They had to do a joint painting of the schools logo for the competition being held to pick a new art piece for the Catholic school. Y/n was currently trying to fix her minor mishap of mixing the purple too dark on the lower corner of the canvas.

“No? what happened?” her attention was divided between the art and Harry’s bite of gossip he was finding the correct verbiage for. “Lily said her and Connor did it!” his tone was slightly lower, whispering the last word so no one would hear a slight blush creeping onto his face. The revelation made the girl snap her head towards her best friend, eye’s widened a bit. The two of them were rather sheltered, they had attended the same private Catholic schools from the time they were in kindergarten up to the present as they were both in their second year of secondary school. The most rebellious thing they’ve ever really done was taking a second sip of the communion wine during mass, so hearing that their classmates may have had sex was very shocking to the pair.

“No way!” the project now took a backseat, y/n now fully invested in the drama Harry was relaying to her. “I swear! She said they did it in the bathroom!” , “Oh my gosh!...did she say anything like detailed?” the girl was just as nosy as her best friend. She wanted every drop of information she could squeeze from him. Harry smiled awkwardly, nervous repeating the words he’d heard from the two teens in question. “Uh…well she said they had s-sex in the bathroom, and Connor said she uh…’went down’ on him at his house..” while y/n knew the basics of sex, she didn’t exactly know much beyond ‘sex is between two married people and makes babies’ , so she questioned his revelation. “what does that mean?” , Harry wasn’t sexually experienced by any means, he was a kiss-less virgin but he would be lying if he said he didn’t know what certain sexual acts involved…he may be a good boy but he’s also a teenage boy with internet access.

His blush grew a few shades darker, opting to clear his throat and make sure the door was closed while he tried to find his voice again. “Uh..well-“ a uncomfortable chuckle escaped him while he tried to choke out the dirty words. “It’s when a girl puts their mouth on a boys private parts…” Y/n gawked at Harry, totally shellshocked at the fact that was a thing! She couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to do that, “Wait what?! Isn’t that dirty? Don’t you pee from there?!” the girl was now standing on her feet her innocent mind trying to comprehend this new information. “Well…yea but I don’t think it’s dirty? If you don’t shower maybe, and the boy doesn’t pee in their mouth…” a nervous hand reached up to scratch the back of Harry’s flushed neck.

“that’s so…weird….h-have you ever done that?” Y/n asked him with a slight bow of her head locking eyes with him, “No! I’ve never done it! I’ve just s-seen it before tha’s all…” the boy shifted uncomfortably, “You’ve seen it? Where?”

“in…porn”

Once again, a comically dramatic gasp ripped through the air from Y/n. she knew of porn, her brother had gotten caught watching it once and that’s the first time she found out people have sex on camera. That was another huge shock to her, yet this one seemed bigger.

“You watch porn?!”

“shush! you’re going to get me in trouble y/n” Harry shot her a glare, yanking her forward to sit on his bed with him, his palm moving to cover her mouth. “Don’t yell that! It’s a secret” Harry cast a nervous glance towards his shut bedroom door before removing his hand from her face. Y/n giving his chest a nice swat with furrowed brows. “Don’t do that again, jerk” Harry simply rolled his eyes. “Then stop being so loud!”

Y/n pouted slightly, crossing her arms over her chest and huffing. “Or what?” she challenged “Or ill glue your mouth shut.” His fingers moved to flick her forehead, which was a mistake since Y/n then chose to start yelling “MISS AN-“ yet she was silenced by his hand once more. “I’m serious Y/n stop it!”

Y/n suddenly got an idea, decided she’d bargain her way out of this one.

Harry knew that look, his eyes widened realizing she was about to suggest something that he may not want to hear. Y/n was a sweet girl, but she had a bit of a bossy side too.

“If you show me the video, I won’t tell.”

Well, Harry expected something, but definitely not that one. “W-wait what?” he couldn’t believe Y/n had just asked him to show her porn! What was he supposed to say? He knew if he showed her he’d have to take a cold shower, but he didn’t want his mom knowing he watched the videos either. “If you show me the video I won’t tell.” Her statement was very level, the angelic doe eyes coming back to persuade him, and well Harry was a sucker for that look.

Soon enough the pair were sat against his headboard, Harry’s laptop open to a private tab with Pornhub opened on it. He chose on of his favorites, a simple pretty tame blowjob video.

“are you sure you want to see it?” his palms were sweating, knees twitching every few minutes trying to control himself and keep his pants from tightening. “Play it, Harry.” Y/n took control, tapping the space bar to start the video.

The logo played before it got to the video, a man sitting on his couch filming his girlfriend kneeling in front of him slowly moving to undress the man in front of her. Y/n watched the screen intently while the woman went to work, tugging the mans cock free and stroking it but Y/n being Y/n the video didn’t suddenly change the atmosphere like it does in a romcom, instead she was full of questions and comments.

“Wow, I didn’t know boys privates looked like that. It looks kind of like a snake.” Harry was happy Y/n wasn’t making the situation too serious, laughing a little breaking the tense atmosphere listening to her talk. He tried to focus his gaze more on the wall in front of him then the porn playing on his computer so he didn’t pop a stiffy in front of her. “Uh…kinda? I guess…” , “Does your penis look like that too?”

Harry choked on air a bit, suppressing a cough. He sweats he can feel himself burning alive from the blush on his face. “I don’t think my penis looks like a snake y/n, no. I think it looks like a penis.” His response got him a ‘hmph’ from his friend which he of course, laughed at. Yet he wasn’t entirely prepared for her next sentence.

“Show me yours?”

This time Harry’s eyes were the ones wide as saucers, his jaw slightly slack and body gone tense. “What?!” Y/n giggled, finding his reaction a bit silly since they were already watching two people engage in oral, how is this any more shocking? “What? Show me yours” she shrugged slightly, Harry was trying to keep his head from exploding but an idea popped into his brain right before the urge to combust took over.

“I show you mine, you show me yours?”

“Harry I don’t have a penis.” Y/n replied with a ‘duh’ eye roll, causing an annoyed groan to come from her friend. “I am aware of that, smarty pants. I mean…if I show you my penis, you show me your boobs.”

He expected to get a smack or a immediate refusal from her, but surprisingly Y/n nodded, “That’s fair, I’m not putting your penis in my mouth just for the record.” She gave him a pointed look as her hands traveled up to loosen her uniform tie and start fumbling with the buttons of her shirt.

The boy felt frozen in place watching his best friend start to undress in front of him. His teenage boy mind was going crazy, this was the first time he was going to get to see boobs in person, he was a bit scared he might keel over and die from a hormone overdose.

“What are you waiting for? You’re supposed to show me yours. I’m not taking my boobs out if you’re not holding your end of the bargain up ,Harry.” Y/n’s hands stilled, giving him a pointed look that broke his trance quickly fumbling with his pants to shove them off his hips the outline of his plumping cock showing against the white and grey checker print of his boxers.

“Who’s gonna go first?”, his throat felt painfully dry while he talked swallowing hard after he finished. “You duh!” the girl pushed his shoulder lightly and pointed to his crotch waiting for him to reveal himself.

The boy took a deep breath, his hands shaking slightly as he tugged his cock through the flap in the front of his underwear. He grunted quietly, the cold air hitting his swollen tip. For a few moments nothing was said, Y/n quietly observed his organ taking in the details and pondering her thoughts before speaking, “Yours looks better than his, it’s prettier. Still kind of looks like a snake though.”

Harry sighed, he was glad she didn’t make a comment on his size or anything negative but the snake comment wasn’t exactly the erotic language he needed to get himself off, and then he remembered the deal. “Your turn.”

Y/n nodded, giggling a little bit as she unhooked the clasps of her bra and let them slip down her arms. Her breasts finally came into Harry’s view and god his balls were already constricting. He feared he’d really be the guy who cums in 2 seconds just looking at a girl, but this would be the right situation for it. Y/n didn’t have any clue how long boys lasted so if he was to bust then she probably wouldn’t tease him she’d just have more questions.

“God…they’re pretty Y/n.” The girl smiled shaking her chest a little so they bounced in front of his eyes. “Thanks, I grew them myself. I’m a b cup” she was adorable, so blissfully unaware of what she was doing for him. A smile and playful giggles still radiating from her while he was trying to keep himself from passing out.

“Can I touch-“

His request was soon cut off, not by Y/n but by the door swinging open and his shocked mother standing behind it.

#harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry style drabble #blurb night #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harry styles x yn #harry styles x reader #harry styles concept #harry styles request

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megalony · 4 years ago

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Teacher’s pet- Part 17

I haven’t written this series in a while but it feels so good to get back into it, thank you for all the lovely messages asking about this series, I hope you will all like this next part. Feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Series taglist: @im-an-adult-ish @gwilymleeisbae @k-k0129 @haileymorelikestupid @glittrixvibe @youngpastafanmug @ultraviolencezs

Series masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) teaches at the school Ben’s boys go to and they soon start a relationship. But they have their ups and downs with the problems Ben faces with his boys and how quickly the relationship progresses.

Enjoy.

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"When daddy gets back, we go home?"

(Y/n) turned on her heels to look behind her when Finn's voice could just be heard over the radio. The four-year-old had been pottering around upstairs for a while but (Y/n) had started to focus more on the songs playing on the radio than the sound of her youngest boy hurrying about, unsure what he should do.

(Y/n)'s eyes glanced over to look at Gwilym before she headed over to where Finn was standing in the doorway, either too anxious or simply unsure about whether he should enter the room or not.

This was the family's fifth day in their new house but both Carter and Finn needed more time to get used to it. Carter didn't like change, it unsettled him and a new house meant getting used to a new room and different surroundings. The living room had a strange layout, he had to get used to the utensils in the kitchen being in different drawers, the dining room was different and so was the garden. (Y/n) and Ben were wallpapering and painting the house so every room was new and foreign and Carter didn't like it yet.

He got to choose what colour he wanted his room, where he wanted his bed and his tv and where he should have a shelf for his figurines and books. But it was figuring out the right place for everything that was unnerving Carter. He didn't know where the right place for everything was, he had to work it all out and have it looking perfect.

For the last four days Carter had scarcely come out of his room, mainly staying put to watch tv and rearrange everything. His room was the only one in the house so far that he was getting used to so it was the only room he wanted to stay in.

With Finn it was different.

He didn't mind that the house was being decorated or that things were in different places and it was new surroundings, he cared that it wasn't home. Finn had been too young to remember the first house he lived in with Ben and Lucy and his brothers but their old house was the one he had grown up in, it was a safe place for him and he had to feel safe. This new house was somewhere he would have to get used to and try and make it feel safe, he wanted to go back to their home, he didn't want to stay here.

Getting the house and moving into it had been done quickly but quietly, the boys were told they would be moving but Ben and (Y/n) had sorted everything and started moving things before telling the boys exactly what day they were moving to try and make it easier. They didn't overthink or panic about it because they didn't have much time to panic.

"Baby, I know you want to go back to the old house, but this is our new home, when it's all finished it will feel better I promise. Why don't you stay in here and help decorate with me and uncle Gwil?"

It had been a little easier for Finn to try and adjust because he was still sharing a room with James. Someone had to share a room and Carter needed to be on his own so he didn't lash out and the baby could hardly share with any of the boys because it wouldn't be fair. James and Finn were close and James didn't mind helping Finn when he was unsettled or panicked so it was the best option for them to share a room. Carter had one of the smaller rooms to himself, the boys shared a bigger room, (Y/n) and Ben had their room and then there was another small room that was for the baby.

Finn looked around the room as he stayed stood on the threshold like he was too afraid to actually take a step forward into the room. The boy's rooms had been decorated first to try and help the three of them settle in, now they were working on the baby's room before doing their own room and then working their way downstairs. It was going to take a while to get the whole house decorated the way they wanted it but at least if they got the bedrooms done it would be easier and more settling for the boys.

With Ben being called into work today due to being short staffed, Gwilym had offered to help with the decorating. The baby's room was being painted dark cherry blossom with one feature wall that had already been painted magnolia to give a bit more light into the room.

"No." Finn shook his head, staying put in the doorway. He wasn't too keen on painting, it seemed rather boring and very time consuming.

If James was still at home today then Finn would have been more settled, he could have watched tv or played games with him but James was with Ellie for the day since he hadn't seen her in over two months. And Finn knew better than to try and play with Carter when he was unsettled as it was.

"Why don't we take a break and get something to eat?" Gwilym spoke up, putting down the paint roller in his hand. They were about due a break by now and it might settle Finn if they watched some tv and had something to eat. "You go down and pick something out to eat and I'll come down in a minute."

They watched the youngest boy nod, looking a bit calmer as he turned and headed to the stairs and disappeared from sight.

"One more coat of paint and it should be done." (Y/n) spoke quietly as she rubbed the back of her hand against her forehead. With Gwilym being taller than (Y/n) it was easier for him to paint the top of the walls where (Y/n) couldn't reach, stretching up wasn't an option either with the weight of the baby. Both Ben and Gwilym had tried telling (Y/n) to take it easy but she wanted to paint because the quicker it got done the sooner they could get on with the rest of the house.

"I think another coat should do it, but I think you need a break. Me and Finn will make some dinner, you sit down."

Gwilym ran his hand through his hair, brushing the curls out of his eyes before he moved to put his glasses back on that had been stuffed into his pocket to prevent them from being coated in paint.

"I'm fine-"

"Ben said you didn't feel well this morning, you think I want the wrath of him if he finds out you've been overdoing it today? Sit down and rest, please."

Gwilym and (Y/n) had been friends since she started at the school and he and Ben had been friends for years, they were both close to Gwilym's heart. On the one hand he knew that (Y/n) would stop and rest when and if needed, she wouldn't push herself too far. Gwilym would never want to try and control her or tell her what to do. But on the other hand he knew that sometimes she would push through phases of feeling unwell or under the weather and he knew how protective Ben was about his family. Gwilym wouldn't want to be around if Ben got annoyed that (Y/n) hadn't taken it easy like she should.

"Hmm, fine." (Y/n) narrowed her eyes playfully with a tired but playful smile as she took a few steps over to sit down on the rocking chair in the corner that was draped with an old paint-stained sheet.

(Y/n) wouldn't admit it but it did feel better to sit down and rest for a bit, stretching up to paint the walls or bending down to get the bottom near the skirting boards was tiresome. And she couldn't allow herself to stop until the first coat of paint was done or it would dry funny and patchy and that would grate on her nerves.

Her eyes followed Gwilym as he raised a brow at her before he made his way out of the room, leaving her to sit and listen to the radio which she had forgotten was still playing in the background. She leaned her head back until the wooden back of the chair was resting lightly against the base of her neck to support her head. Her eyes fell closed to try and relieve the headache slowly beginning to form behind her eyes and she slowly shifted her weight from her heels to her toes to slowly rock the chair.

All morning (Y/n) had felt her headache come and go like it was testing her, visiting her to see how she would react to the intrusion and it didn't help matters how much the baby was shifting like she couldn't seem to get comfy.

A sigh passed through (Y/n)'s lips before she pushed herself to stand up, wondering if having a drink might take away her headache in case she was starting to get dehydrated. Weaving around the pots of paint and rollering boards, (Y/n) moved to get her drink that rested on the windowsil next to the radio. The room was starting to look more homely now that the first coat of paint was finished and (Y/n) knew once they'd got some pictures put on the walls and everything in its place, the room would look much better.

The one thing that (Y/n) didn't like about moving was how impatient she became. She wanted to paint and decorate the whole place in one day, she wanted to put up pictures and place books on shelves and make it feel like home. Downstairs wasn't even started yet so there was no way (Y/n) could start putting up pictures yet which made her agitated and impatient.

There were three canvas pictures that (Y/n) was desperate to put up in the living room, they were of Ben and the boys and all four of them were smiling and laughing in the pictures and they were something that would make it feel more like home for them all.

(Y/n) also knew that once their girl was born, she wanted to get a canvas picture of her and have it on the wall above the cot.

Putting the glass back down, (Y/n) took a moment to look out the window which showed the drive and front garden. Her hand moved to rest on her lower stomach when she could feel the baby shifting again proving that she simply couldn't get comfy today which in turn made (Y/n) uncomfy.

Her eyes focused on the light grey carpet she knew they needed to change and her feet slowly padded around the paint, not wanting to spill any since they had gone ahead and painted without any sheets being put down on the floor to protect the old carpet. But her free hand quickly reached out for the cot resting unused on her left when she could feel the room starting to spin.

Tilting her head down, (Y/n) tried to breathe deeply and see if it would take away the feeling that was as if a fog was clouding her mind and stirring trouble behind her eyes. She slowly shuffled her feet to try and get to the rocking chair, knowing it would be better to sit down than to keep standing and let the blood drain from her head.

(Y/n) didn't know what her foot got caught on, she didn't see what snagged at the toe of her slipper but whatever it was made her toes bend completely under her foot which felt like it snapped in half as it folded over itself. The top of her foot scraped against the carpet as the bones clicked either into or out of place before her body was suddenly tumbling forward off balance.

There was nothing around that she could use to steady herself and her eyes immediately snapped closed from both the pain and shock and from instinct when she started to fall. Some sort of gasp or even a screech instinctively left her lips before it felt like everything was turned off.

She could hear the static in her ears like the radio had lost its signal but turned its sound up to the max. Her eyes were tightly closed to the point they were stinging but it took (Y/n) a moment to realise she was no longer falling.

She knew for certain that she was motionless now and she was no longer flying forwards through the air, but she didn't remember stopping.

Opening her eyes was a struggle, they felt like they were weighed down like coins were pressed down on her eyelids to prevent her from seeing something. And the rest of her body felt heavy and was trembling like she was feeling the after effects of an electric shock. She could see the painting tray a few feet in front of her and the curved foot of the rocking chair was next to her. Everything felt numb and heavy but (Y/n) forced her arms to move so that she could shakily grab the seat of the rocking chair, she needed to pull herself up from the awkward way she was laying. She had to get up and check herself over to make sure she was okay, she couldn't lay here like this.

"Mum, did you knock something over again?" Carter's voice barely reached (Y/n)'s ears that still felt like they were full of static.

The eldest boy walked out of his room and up the three small steps that led to the upper two rooms. He leaned his head around the room on the right before moving towards the nursery room since he knew they had been painting that room this morning. But Carter froze in his tracks, his eyes blown wide with confusion and fear when he looked at (Y/n).

She was on her knees in front of the rocking chair which her arms were heavily resting on and she was trembling. It looked as if she was going to be sick or even faint and Carter could see that her eyes weren't seeing everything properly like her vision was blurring.

"Mum?" There was a lot of concern in Carter's voice but his expression was rather neutral. He didn't seem able to express any emotion but anger in his face and right now he looked unfazed but sounded scared and was stunned and unmoving.

(Y/n) wanted to talk, she wanted to try and tell Carter she just felt dizzy and had tripped. She wanted to calm him down and reassure him she was fine, but the only thing she could do was close her eyes and let her head fall onto her arms that were resting on the chair. Her throat was constricting and her head couldn't formulate a sentence or allow her to even move any more than this.

Carter's brows sank down until they were almost resting in his eyes as he pressed his lips together tightly. What was she doing? He could feel a bout of anger burning through him because she wasn't telling him what she was doing, she was kneeling like she was praying but she looked ill. Curling his hands into fists, Carter huffed his next breath before he turned on his heels and jumped down the three steps to get onto the hallway. He took long strides and rounded the corner to the right before he stormed down the stairs and swung round the bottom of the bannister.

He skidded a few times when running through the hall to reach the kitchen where he could hear Gwilym and Finn chatting away.

"Uncle Gwil, mum's sat on the floor and she won't talk to me. It sounded like she kicked something but she won't move."

A frown etched onto Gwilym's features and his eyes narrowed at Carter behind his glasses. It was always necessary to take Carter's words with a pinch of salt, especially when he tried to explain something because he could never say what he meant or explain what he had seen. He sounded cryptic a lot of the time like he did right now and he looked angry as if (Y/n) was purposely ignoring him which Gwilym knew she wouldn't do.

"Um, right... Finn why don't you sit and eat at the table? I'll go talk to your mum."

Gwilym didn't know what was going on but he knew he didn't like the sound of it, there was a bad feeling in his gut telling him that this wasn't going to be good. He headed over to Carter, resting a hand on his shoulder before he bypassed him and made his way upstairs to go and see (Y/n).

The moment Gwilym reached the nursery his body recoiled in shock and his lips parted but no words came out. He moved like he'd been pushed into the room, stumbling forward but catching himself before he moved to bend down on his knees beside (Y/n) who felt more awake than she did moments ago. He cautiously moved his arm to wrap around (Y/n)'s upper back and placed his other hand on her arm, trying to coax her to look at him and tell him what the problem was.

"(Y/n), what's wrong?" He sat back on his legs and leaned up a bit straighter when (Y/n) slowly straightened up and moved so she was no longer resting her head on the chair.

"I- I tripped a-and fell..."

When her eyes locked with Gwilym's it was like he was trying to have a silent conversation with her because he knew Carter was stood in the doorway, but (Y/n) couldn't work out what he was trying to say.

"Let's sit you down and make sure you're okay." Gwilym took it as a good sign that she wasn't sobbing in pain or cradling a part of herself that was hurt but he still didn't like how she seemed like her mind was somewhere else. She looked drowsy which told him she had blacked out or fainted even if it was only for a few seconds. He knew that look well, he had experienced it a few times in his life.

Moving his arms, Gwilym made sure they were securely around (Y/n)'s waist as she slowly moved her trembling arms until her hands were holding Gwilym's upper arms. She nodded and closed her eyes for a moment as she tried to plant her feet properly on the floor so she could stand up. Gwilym took most of her weight to help stand her up but he froze in place when a moan left (Y/n)'s lips and her head fell forward into his chest.

"Does something hurt?"

"N-no... oh no..." (Y/n) breathed through her words before it sounded like she was choking on a sob. Her words sparked worry in Gwilym and he shifted her in his arms so he was holding her against his chest, not wanting to risk her falling to her knees and hurting herself again. But he could feel himself starting to shake when he saw that (Y/n) had moved her hand to press to her stomach.

She didn't?

"Gwil i-it- oh, it hurts."

She'd fallen and hit her stomach on something. She could have hurt the baby, the pain might be something to do with the baby.

"Okay, (Y/n) listen to me it's okay, let's get you sat down and then we'll take things from there. You could have just grazed yourself, it might be nothing." She may have just caught her stomach on something very lightly, it might just be something that would bruise and cause no problems so there might not be a reason to panic yet. If they got her sat down and calmed down, they could see if the pain got worse and then take things from there, probably go and get her seen by a doctor just to make sure.

When he felt (Y/n) nod against his chest, Gwilym took a deep breath before slowly shuffling (Y/n) back and carefully setting her down in the chair she had been leaning up against moments ago.

"Carter, why don't you go-"

"No! I wanna stay with mum." Carter took a few steps into the room to show that he didn't want to leave in case (Y/n) wasn't well but at the same time, he didn't want to get too close in case she didn't want him to be here. She might be like Ben and wouldn't want Carter to see her in pain, he didn't want to go but he didn't want to upset (Y/n) either.

"Why don't you go and check on Finn and then bring me my phone so I can call your dad, let him know what's happened?"

Carter debated Gwilym's words, wanting to stay desperately but he also wanted Ben to come home. Ben always said that he took care of everything and that he looked after them all, if (Y/n) wasn't well then she needed Ben here so he could look after her. He pursed his lips before he nodded and turned to hurry downstairs, the thought of Ben pressing on his mind more and more.

"Can I take a look?" Gwilym crouched down beside (Y/n) before he motioned to her stomach, not wanting to touch her or try and check her over if she was in too much pain or felt too uncomfortable.

When (Y/n) nodded through gritted teeth, Gwilym slowly moved her shirt up so he could see her stomach. He pressed his lips together into a thin line as his nails dug into the palms of his hands so he could trya nd remain calm. The left side of her stomach was starting to mix red and white in an odd but large shape. If he had to guess, Gwilym was rather sure that she had fallen hard and smacked her stomach straight into something. There was no graze and no cut but she was bleeding under the surface of her skin, but there was no way for him to see if it had done any damage to the baby except for the pain that seemed to be getting worse.

"I think we should get you checked out, just to be safe."

(Y/n) didn't have the will or the nerve to argue because the pain was getting worse and when the baby moved it only made the pain increase and an uncomfortable feeling start to arise. It felt like her side and her lower stomach were on fire and the fire was slowly starting to spread and get worse. It was overpowering the pain in her foot which was throbbing from how awkwardly it had bent when she fell.

"Finn's watching tv, can we call dad now?" Carter's sudden interruption made them both jump before Gwilym nodded and reached his hand out for the phone in Carter's grip.

"Yeah, I'll call him now but I need to stay up here with your mum while we sort a few things so can you go and stay with Finn please? If he comes up here and sees your mum's hurt he'll get scared and we don't want that."

If they were going to take (Y/n) to hospital then they needed to sort out the boys. James would be coming home later this afternoon and none of the boys could be here on their own. If Ben couldn't come home from work then Gwilym needed to take (Y/n) to get checked out and taking the boys with them wouldn't be the best idea. Gwilym didn't want Finn finding out just yet because he would get unsettled and frightened and he also didn't want Carter listening to him talking to Ben because that would unsettle him too.

Gwilym pushed himself to his feet, trying to smile at Carter to calm him down before the eldest left the room, slamming the door behind him to show he wasn't happy about being told to leave.

Anxiety started to dwell up in the pit of Gwilym's stomach, he'd never had to call Ben before when he was at work. (Y/n) had only done that once and that was a few weeks ago when he had to come straight from work to the school to talk to Carter. Gwilym had no idea if Ben would actually answer or if he would be too busy and if he didn't answer then they would have to find someone to look after the boys so Gwilym could take (Y/n) to get checked over.

If that happened then Ben would be a nervous wreck when they got through to him and said they were at or had been to the hospital.

A sigh of relief left Gwilym's lips when he heard Ben's voice on the other end of the line, he had answered.

"Hey mate... look, I know you're at work but something's come up... no, the boys are fine, um, (Y/n)'s had a fall... well I think-"

Gwilym stuttered through his words, trying to stay calm and not overpanic Ben because they didn't know if something was drastically wrong yet or not. But he stopped himself short when (Y/n) made a noise that sounded like she was stuck between crying and wanting to scream. When he looked at her, she was doubled over in the chair to the point she was surely going to fall off and land on her knees. Her right hand was pressed tightly against her stomach and her other hand was gripping the arm of the chair, her chin tucked tightly into her chest.

He tried to follow her line of sight, pulling the phone away from his ear so Ben's concerned words didn't deafen him. But when Gwilym tried to see what was wrong and he looked to where (Y/n) was looking, a shiver ran down his spine and he jumped when (Y/n) started to sob.

"Ben, I think (Y/n)'s water just broke."

#ben hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy imagine #imagine #BoRhap #dad! ben #gwilym lee #teachers pet

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semperintrepida · 5 years ago

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100% Relative Humidity

Kassandra had just finished inspecting the fenceline along the back forty when she saw the flash of red — not the orange-red of fire or the arterial red of blood, but the deep bright red of ripe berries, the kind that caught the eye and made the mouth water with imagined sweetness. The berries stood out against a backdrop of Kermit-green leaves the size of her hand, and she grinned with recognition: thimbleberries. Kyra's favorite.

Perfect. She'd been daydreaming about Kyra all day. Kyra, bent over the kitchen table. Kyra, pressed against the bookshelves downstairs. Kyra, splayed across their linen sheets, her skin dusky with arousal, whispering—

Soon. She'd have Kyra in her hands soon enough. She dug out a handkerchief and set to picking, despite the cloudy skies threatening rain, and she was careful to keep from damaging the fragile fruit as she placed them into the sling of fabric. All sorts of berries thrived in Oregon, but the thimbleberry had resisted all attempts at cultivation. Too wild, too graceful to tame, it carried its nature within its delicate flavor. All other berries paled in comparison.

A big handful was all she risked picking — too many in a pile and they'd crush themselves — and then she journeyed through the woods back to the house she and Kyra had built on a hillside overlooking a hollow in the Coast Range, in one of the last stands of wild forest left after the timber companies had clearcut every mountainside and replanted them with nothing but Douglas fir.

There were Doug firs here, yes, but also western red cedars, hemlocks, spruce, and pines, and she'd even found a few Pacific yews scattered across the acreage. After a career of trying to save forests from wildfire, she'd finally gotten some trees of her own.

Raindrops pattered the grass around her as she knocked the sides of her boots against the post at the bottom of the stairs up to the house. Even in Oregon it was rare to see rain so early in August.

Inside the mudroom, the door to the kitchen was wide open, and she shed her boots without making a sound. Kyra was standing at the kitchen sink, humming as she cleaned a paintbrush, and Kassandra crept up behind her, silent in her sock-covered feet. She carefully avoided the squeaky floorboard near the woodstove, then slid her body against Kyra's, pinning her against the counter so she couldn't turn around and deck her after being startled.

"What—" she gasped, then blew out a breath of exasperation. "Did you have to scare me?"

Kassandra smirked. "You'll forgive me, 'cause I have a present for you," she said.

"Oh yeah?"

"Close your eyes and open your mouth."

Kyra did. No hesitation. And Kassandra rewarded her with one of the thimbleberries.

A moment later, she turned around as far as Kassandra's hips let her, her face beaming with delight. "They're finally ripe?"

Kassandra smiled and nodded.

Kyra had a smudge of dark green paint above her brow and another under her chin. "We need to go picking."

"Yep." She held another berry to Kyra's lips. "Maybe tomorrow. Rain's starting up."

Kyra sucked Kassandra's finger into her mouth along with the berry, and she flicked her tongue against the pad of fingertip she'd captured, her warmth erupting into heat. Then she set Kassandra free, gifted her a silky smile, and turned back to the sink.

Kassandra's heart revved up, valves opening wide, the pump coming online. She set the berries on the counter. "Are you done for the day?"

"Yeah." Kyra flicked the brush, the water in the sink milky with paint. She'd spent all day working in her studio. It was once the old machine shed, and they'd knocked out the wall that faced the valley and put in floor-to-ceiling windows. If Kassandra knew mountains and forests by the miles she'd walked across them, Kyra knew how to capture them with paint, in large-scale landscapes of rocky crags and misty woods and still waters.

Ten years they'd been together, as Kassandra worked her way up from her first Hotshot crew to leading a crew of her own, and Kyra began making a name for herself with her paintings. Ten years, but they'd spent much of it apart for months at a time, as Kassandra's crew shipped out to fight fire from Washington to New Mexico. She'd even gone to Australia a couple of times.

There was nothing else like it, the way a wildfire moved like a living thing, how it could be benevolent when contained, or demonic when left to its own devices. And she'd loved her work: the camaraderie of her crew, the challenge of 16-hour shifts over days and nights, the satisfaction of a fire contained. She'd even loved the danger.

But a couple years back, when that deadfall had caught her and nearly taken her arm off above the elbow, Kyra had begged her to quit if her arm didn't come back right.

Her arm healed, almost good as new. She'd always been good at that.

But she still quit anyway.

The wildfires were bigger now, the terrain more rugged, the seasons longer. She used to work for six months at a stretch; now she could work almost year-round if she wanted to. But every shift was a gamble of life and limbs, and Kyra had already spent years waiting for her at home, dreading every phone call.

It was time. Her life was no longer hers alone to risk, not if she wanted to spend a good long chunk of it with Kyra, and she needed her limbs, to do things like slip her hand inside the waistband of Kyra's trousers, to slide along the curve of Kyra's ass, to find the source of Kyra's heat. She'd always been good at that, too.

Kyra was damp and only a little swollen. Disappointing. "You didn't think about me at all today, did you?" she whispered into Kyra's ear, a pout in her voice, milking it for all it was worth.

Kyra's ass pushed back against Kassandra. "I... had to focus." She'd been finishing up a painting, the canvas almost as tall as Kassandra, bound for some rich man's house up in the San Juans. The sale would pay their property taxes for the year.

She'd been working so hard lately. She deserved a reward.

That was something Kassandra could give her. "How about focusing on this?" she said, and she slid her fingers close to Kyra's clit, close, but not quite touching, and grinned when Kyra dropped the paintbrush into the sink and pressed her palms into the countertop.

"Fuck," Kyra said, her voice quivering, and soon her muscles were quivering too, as Kassandra's fingertip set a fireline around her clit and Kyra's body answered with wet, sticky heat.

"Patience, love."

Kyra's laugh was short and incredulous. "Patience? That's rich, coming from—"

She slipped two fingers inside and stole the rest of the thought, and Kyra gasped and rocked her hips in reflex. Kassandra leaned forward and pinned Kyra harder up against the counter, and she buried her face into Kyra's hair, breathing in the toasty scent of her, warm and familiar and perfect...

Then she heard Kyra's voice, saying, "How long can you hold out, really," the burr of it vibrating into her own chest and lodging there as Kyra clenched her muscles tight around Kassandra's fingers.

"Sounds like a challenge," Kassandra said, and her free hand brushed Kyra's hair aside to expose her neck, stroked across her solid shoulder and bicep and forearm down to her hand, and their fingers entwined as Kassandra bent and started branding hot kisses into the arc of her neck. And sometimes it wasn't a kiss — it was the sear of raked teeth, or the burn of suction, Kassandra's wants flaring against her surface.

Oh, how she wanted. The heat in her belly burned along her veins, like fire spreading through tree roots under the forest floor. She wanted to fuck Kyra hard until she came, then fuck her again and again. But the gauntlet had been thrown. How long can you hold out?

Now Kyra was trembling and panting as Kassandra worked her up with short, teasing strokes that climbed but never peaked. But as rarely as Kyra ever begged out loud, her body always did it for her, her mouth falling open, her thighs spreading wide to expose how fucking soaked she was.

Oh, how Kyra wanted, too.

She was so wet that she ran down Kassandra's fingers, pooling in the palm of her hand. Ready and willing. And so Kassandra smiled, flexed her fingers, and...

Stopped.

Outside, it was raining hard enough for fat droplets to splash in through the open window. Kassandra pulled her hand away, her heartbeat doubling up at Kyra's whimpers of frustration, and she reached across the sink and tugged the window closed.

Her hands on Kyra's hips, firm, pulling her around so they stood face to face. A kiss as she loosened buttons, tugged trousers down. And then she lifted Kyra up to sit on the edge of the counter next to the sink, and Kyra stared at her, breathless and flickering.

She ran her hand through Kyra's slick heat, eased the tips of her fingers inside. Kyra sighed and her thighs spilled open wider. Wanting more. God, she was beautiful this way.

Then Kassandra leaned closer so their foreheads touched, and Kyra lifted her arms and circled them around Kassandra's neck, and they breathed each other in, and Kassandra closed her eyes and listened to the surge and splash of her own blood.

"Kassandra?"

"Hmm?"

"If you don't do something in the next two seconds, you're sleeping in the studio tonight."

Kassandra played dumb. "Oh, was there something you wanted?"

Kyra rolled her eyes. "Isn't it obvious?" She always had an attitude when she was being done to.

"Something like this?" Kassandra asked innocently. And she stroked deep deep inside, easily, languidly, until Kyra tilted her head back and let out a moan in perfect counterpoint to the rain drumming against the roof.

Kassandra was retired now. She had all the time in the world, and she made sure Kyra knew it, knew that the stamina that had powered Kassandra up and down mountains while carrying fifty pounds of gear and a chainsaw was now going to keep Kyra right on the edge of orgasm as long as Kassandra wanted.

Rain on the roof, dripping from the eaves, soaking the earth, the air scented with dark rich soil and the musk of need as they moved outside of time. "Oh god," Kyra said at some point, as she wriggled on the countertop, eyes closed, arms a circle of tension around Kassandra's neck. She was close, too close. Kassandra pulled back. Slower now. Not so deep. Feel Kyra quivering around her fingers, feel Kyra want.

All Kyra had to do was say please. She knew it, always had. But she was stubborn, so stubborn that it gave her secret away.

"You love it when I do this," Kassandra said, and then she leaned forward and kissed Kyra, helping herself to that sumptuous mouth while her fingers kept moving in the rhythms of build-up and denial. "I haven't been taking care of you well enough, if you could go all day without thinking about me."

"'s not true."

"Maybe I should wake you up every morning like this." Her fingertips sought the deepest place, that soft, hidden spot, and she lavished it with gentle attention until Kyra was writhing against her. "Work you up so you're just about to come, and then... stop." And she stilled her fingers to match her words.

Kyra buried her face into the side of Kassandra's neck, shuddering into her in long, rolling waves.

"You'd think about me then, hmm?"

Kyra groaned into her skin.

"I like this idea."

Kyra lifted her head and stared at her, eyes dark as loam and filled with pure, naked wanting. Her lips parted, and her mouth moved soundlessly as she breathed, showing flashes of tongue that made Kassandra's clit burn. Later. They'd plenty of time for that too.

Kassandra smiled. "So remember this part," she said, and then she fucked Kyra for real.

It was glorious, the way Kyra arched her back in offering, the way the muscles in her neck and arms corded as she held on tight, the way she cried out with the fierceness of a hawk as she came. She rippled around Kassandra's fingers, her pleasure imprinting itself into Kassandra's skin, and Kassandra pulled her close, held her as she trembled and caught her breath.

"Fuck," Kyra whispered.

"I was planning to," Kassandra said, and she scooped Kyra up from the counter and carried her in her arms.

"Oh yes. More," Kyra said, smiling her slow, silky smile. "But this time in bed."

Kassandra was already on her way.

Part of the Heat Index...

#kyssandra #kassandra #ac odyssey #wildland firefighter kassandra #yes lol yes yes yes #shameless smut #plot what plot #distracting myself from this hell week by writing smut #*slaps the top of this fic* this bad boy can hold so much self-indulgence #this is what sellout was supposed to be before i screwed up that story #yes mom I'm writing smut now #heat index

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theasstour · 5 years ago

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𝓡𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓸 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓽 𝓫𝔂 𝓗𝓪𝓴𝓸𝓷 𝓢𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓲𝓭𝓮

𝓯𝓲𝓬 𝓹𝓪𝓰𝓮 | 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 10.8k 𝓝𝓑: 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮, 𝓼𝓮𝔁𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽

A/N: biggest thanks to @shepherald for being bb’s italian auntie!

Sunday, 11 August 2019

The only light came from the abundance of various candles Harry had spread all over his loft. After countless hours of them chatting, getting to know each other, and laying in silence, Y/N had come to realise Harry preferred candlelight to electricity. When she questioned him about it, he had simply just cocked his head to the side, studied her for a few seconds, and said, “There is freedom in not being revealed everything to. In art it lets your imagination wander, ‘cause not being told everything means you have to figure it out on your own. There are untold stories and secrets in the shadows on a canvas.”

Y/N had only laughed at him, to which Harry had just looked at her, demanding an explanation to her outburst.

“You don’t like the dark,” she had reasoned. “How can you say secrets lay in the shadows when you’re afraid of the dark? Why do you paint it?”

Harry had looked at her, studying her intently before he said, “I’m not so afraid of walking in the dark anymore.”

Y/N had thought about that answer for a few days now. Though people could learn to get rid of their phobias and the like, it was unusual to rid oneself of one so fast. Harry had leaned into water just a few days after confessing to her he didn’t like it because he couldn’t see the bottom and where he was walking, and now he told her he liked the dark parts of a canvas because of the possibilities they held. It was weird to her, but she liked the fact he was defying his fears. She was proud of him.

But right that second when she started thinking of this again, Y/N was laid on the floor of Harry’s loft. Night surrounded them, all the windows and the doors leading out to the balcony were open, filling the house with the humid yet refreshing air of the summer evening. Her eyes were on Harry as he stood above her, biting her lip as her mind started wandering again.

She had been laying in bed when he had called her name. The two had spent all day in his house, doing nothing but talk, fuck, and soak up in the little time they had left like this. Next Sunday she wouldn’t be there. Next Sunday, she’d be at home in Maldon, packing up her stuff to go back down to London and to her last year of University. But neither wanted to think about that, they’d rather relish in this time they had together. But Y/N had been laying in Harry’s bed, about to get back to Portia on a text she’d received earlier that day when Harry called her. She’d been a bit surprised at first. After all, he’d told her, he needed to actually do some work today and not only spend his sweet time between her legs (“Though I very much want to do just that,” he’d mumbled). It had been about an hour when she heard her name, so she put her phone aside and stepped into her summer dress. When she reached the loft, Harry had been standing by the balcony door, looking out over the landscape. He was wearing his white overalls, the top half tied so low on his waist she could make out the beginnings of his bum. And when he turned around, the dark trail of hair leading downwards was also very much visible, contrasting drastically with the light colour of the paint-splotched overalls.

“What’s going on?” she’d asked.

“Nothing,” he simply replied. “Just want you here.”

She hadn’t been able to contain her smile, and at the sight of hers, he smiled back. He was about to turn to the canvas he’d placed on the easel outside on the balcony when he stopped himself. His eyes landed on her again, trailing her form.

“Lay down.”

She furrowed her brows, looking at the floor of the loft. “Where?”

Harry walked over to one of the cabinets and brought out what must’ve once been used as a huge curtain. It was white and seemingly very old; dust having greyed it with time. He placed it on the ground for her motioning with his hand for her to lay down on that. She was about to when he interrupted her movements with a low, “Take off your dress.”

She’d stopped in her tracks, feeling her heart beat a little faster and a tingle of excitement all over her body. But she didn’t hesitate. Reaching for the bottom of her dress, she dragged it upwards till she revealed herself completely to him. Harry didn’t say a word, just watched her like he was in a trance, not able to look away. She felt so powerful when he looked at her like that. It made her believe she was the ruler of something, like she possessed some sort of prestige and grace no one else in the world would ever have or had ever before her or after her. She laid down on the floor, looking up at him for further instructions.

“On your back, baby.” He said, voice filled with a sort of affection and demand that could make her do anything.

She laid on her back and Harry came over, down on his knees before Y/N and reaching for her again. He took a light grip of her right thigh, moving it till her leg was bent and knee resting in front of her other, her foot hooked behind her calf. He then moved on to her arms, trailing a hand up her front and between her breast as he shifted his attention.

“Teasing.” She giggled, making Harry grin.

Harry took both a hold of both her wrists, pinning them above her head, leaning down till his lips were hovering above hers. “It’s not teasing if I follow through later, is it?”

“That’s later, not now.”

Harry giggled, kissing her lips, cheek, jaw. “You haven’t had enough of me?”

“I could never.” She said, letting go of a deep breath as his hands tightened around her wrists, smiling. “What about me?”

“What about you?” he mumbled against her skin, nibbling at her neck.

“Have you had enough of me? Since you asked the question first and all.”

Harry huffed, moving up so his lips were above hers, placing her hands like he wanted them without breaking eye contact. “I’m the one asking you to undress. So no, I won’t ever get enough of you.”

He left her laying there, getting up and fetching his easel again along with a new canvas. He placed them exactly where he wanted them before he walked off to get his paint, brushes and palette. He pressed soma paint out of some tubes and Y/N furrowed her brows, they looked different from the small tubes he usually used.

“Trying a new sort?” she asked, not being able to help herself.

Harry brought all the paint over, along with a cloth, a glass of water, and his palette. Only he didn’t place all his stuff beside his easel, but rather on the floor next to Y/N. He sat down beside her, dabbing his brush into some dark blue before he started painting away on the bent leg, on her thigh.

“I’m a canvas now?”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head at her. “Got an idea.”

“Mind sharing it?”

“I’m sharing it right now, ain’t I?”

“How?”

“By showing you my painting.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re painting on me, I think I need a better explanation than that.”

Harry smiled, dipping his brush in more paint before returning to her thigh, painting in what looked like half circles up her thigh. He let the brush rest in water for a few seconds before he wiped it, swirled it on his hand, and dipped it back in a lighter blue. He did the same with this one, paying very close attention to each of his movements.

“You aren’t using your regular paint.”

“You noticed?” He almost seemed a little shocked she knew his brands and routines.

“Of course.”

He glanced up at her, giving her a small smile before returning his attention to her thigh. “This is acrylic paint.”

Y/N waited for more, and when he kept his mouth shut, she urged, “Yeah?”

“It dries quicker.”

“Quicker than oil paint?”

“Way quicker. 20 minutes, 30 tops. Oil takes hours.”

“Yeah,” Y/N said. “I remember you telling me that.”

Harry huffed a short laugh, dipping the brush in more paint and detailing a bit more before he moved positions. He came to sit further up her body, getting some more paint on his paintbrush before he started drawing on her stomach. Y/N was suddenly very aware of how her stomach looked laying like this, how soft it was. Harry started painting in a hypnotising circle of sorts. Circles that focused in on the spot right in the middle of her torso, one single vein reaching out and wrapping around her left ribcage. He did the same with the blue, outlining the lighter colour.

“Will you ever forgive me for how I mistreated you?” Harry asked, voice ever so tender. He sounded scared, as if he was horrified by what the answer might be.

“I won’t forgive you for making me uncomfortable when we first met.”

Harry looked up at her. “How did I make you uncomfortable?”

She clicked her tongue, glancing away from him.

“Y/N.”

“You don’t remember?”

“What did I do?”

Their eyes met again. “You asked me if the dress would fit.”

Harry stopped painting, furrowing his brows a little.

“I didn’t like that.”

Harry put the brush in the water before glancing back at her. “I was just asking to be sure it would, if not I would’ve had Jamie contact a costume designer and had another dress made.”

She sighed. “It’s… more than a dress, Harry.”

“Great. Tell me what it is, then.” He asked, about to place a hand on her thigh when he realised it was covered in paint. “Talk to me.”

“You don’t understand how awful it is to be reminded by people – people you don’t even know – that you’re bigger. It doesn’t even have to be a rude comment, it can just be a ‘Will it fit’ and someone’s confidence can come crumbling down. People who haven’t had problems like that don’t get it.” Y/N explained, sighing. “That I’ll never fit into my partner’s clothes ‘cause I’ll always be bigger than them, or how if I buy a shirt in a size small for a present for a mate the cashier will look at me like ‘you sure about this’. It just sucks to be reminded, and I don’t want people to think that because of my body I’m lesser than them. That they can talk to me in a disrespectful tone because of how I look.”

Harry frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, but I won’t forgive you for making me feel uncomfortable. And I’ll never forgive people who think they’re better than someone who doesn’t see fat people, POC, LGBT, or anyone else, as their equal.”

Harry nodded. “Good, you shouldn’t.”

She smiled a little.

“I’ll never make you feel uncomfortable again. I promise.”

She nodded. “I know.”

Harry smiled back at her, reaching for his brush and dipping it in a lighter colour before doing the same he’d done with the paint previous. He followed the swirl, tilting his head as he focused on her, covering her in dark to light blue. The swirls almost reminded Y/N of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. She knew Harry admired the Dutch painter a whole deal, he’d told her as much during one of those long and deep conversations the two of them had shared. But she really saw it now. All from the calf and all the way up her body, up her arms, neck, breasts, tummy; it was all covered in shades of blue. The circle came to focus on a round form in the middle of her torso. It seemed to be glowing in different hues of gold, like some sort of life force. And the little vein that had escaped the swirling storm surrounding the gold blob, was a similar yet smaller swirl of pink. Harry continued to paint on her, the two just staying there in silence, letting Harry paint out the image inside his head. It wasn’t till her leg, torso, and arms were almost completely covered in paint that Y/N spoke.

“What’s the inspiration behind this piece then?”

“Adoration.” Harry answered, not even batting an eye.

Y/N didn’t know what that meant, something Harry understood by her silence. He dragged the brush over her tummy, stopping as he reached the circle of gold in the middle.

“The parts of you I adore.”

He took her breath away, he truly did. The cold and closed man she’d met earlier that summer was gone completely. Before her sat the most tender, most open, most beautiful person she’d ever met. It startled her how much a person could change in a matter of a bit over a month. Or was this the person Harry had been before everything with Salvatore? To be frank, she didn’t particularly care. As long as Harry was as happy now as she was, and as long as he felt the same way she did, as long as he got to live his life the way he wanted to, she didn’t care about the person he’d been before this. He was happier now than she’d ever seen him, and that was all she cared about.

She never cried. If there was one thing she rarely did, it was let something get to her to such an extent that it took over all her emotions. But something about Harry taking two hours to merely paint on her naked body in detail, something about him paying such close attention to her and painting the parts of her he adored the most, it got her feeling something she never had before. No one had made her feel this important.

Though she tried to be as quiet as possible and not make loads of noise, Harry heard her sniffles. He looked up at her, a concerned furrow to his brows. “You alright? Am I stepping over a line-“

“-No, no, no, you’re alright. You’re great.” She assured him, afraid to move her arm and wipe a tear away in case she ruined his painting.

He seemed to know her predicament however, because he reached up and wiped her tears away, one at a time. “Then what is it? What’s wrong?” He stroked his fingers over her cheek. “Don’t cry, my love. Please.”

She couldn’t help the sob that rocked through her body, and she managed a small smile with a wobbling bottom lip. “It’s just it took me years and years to accept my body and to respect myself enough not to put myself down every single day over how I looked, how I was fat, how everyone was thinner and prettier than me.” Her smile widened as Harry wiped yet another tear away. “And here you are, doing it so quickly and without hesitation.”

Harry took a grip of his brush again, dipping into the gold yellow before looking into her eyes again. “It’s easier to be critical of yourself than of someone else. You can be your own worst enemy.”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

He let his eyes wander her body, taking in the painted areas and the areas he had left naked. She could tell by his stare that he hadn’t left some places free of paint because he didn’t adore those, but rather because painting her entire body would take too long. Also, painting some areas would not be very ideal. He inhaled, bringing his brush to her tummy. “I could never paint you. Could never do you justice in any way. I’ll try. I’ll fucking try till the day I die, but…” he circled the gold with the last layer of paint. “But I won’t ever be able to capture your beauty fully. No painting could ever do you justice. Art is beyond you. This…” he put the brush in the glass of water, outlining her body with his finger like he had done that time they had first woken up together. “There isn’t a word for this yet. Not a phrase powerful enough. I used to think paintings were fantastic ‘cause they told you more than a text ever could, but you’ve challenged that idea. You’re more powerful, more beautiful, more timeless than art. You’re more than everything.”

Y/N hadn’t known what people meant when they said they could remember the exact moment you fell in love with someone. She knew she was in love with Harry, knew she admired him beyond any comprehension. But looking back, Y/N knew this was the exact moment she started loving Harry. Hearing him say that, feeling his tender touch, being covered in his art, it all came together and created an emotion she was unsure she’d ever felt before.

“If you lay still, I’m gonna go paint you now, yeah?” Harry got up from the ground, bringing all his equipment with him. She just watched him, admiring how he lifted his white overalls further up his hips, and how they fell down a bit when he tied the arms around his waist again.

“My nose is itchy.”

“Don’t fucking-“ he was in front of her in a second, scratching her nose.

She laughed. “What are you doing?”

“You said your nose was itchy! I’m helping you out! No bloody way you’re ruining my paint.” He said, scratching still. “Alright?”

She smiled. “Yeah.”

“Brill.” He turned back to his canvas again, looking down at her. “Don’t move. I’ll be very mad.”

Giggling, she bit her bottom lip, watching as the tiniest of smiles stretched out over his lips as well. He dipped a new brushin some oil paint, took another look at her, and started painting. And watching him do exactly was he was born to do, what he did for a living, those three words echoed in the back of Y/N’s head. Like a soft chant that would be on repeat till the say she died. His name alone triggered the words; triggered her to say them and feel them and let them surround her. Harry, I love you, she thought, hoping he somehow could hear her or sense how she was feeling, but at the same time scared how he’d react if he didn’t feel the same way. Harry, I love you.

Tuesday, 13 August 2019

“Long time since I’ve seen your face.” Portia said as she appeared on Y/N’s phone screen. “How are you?”

Y/N nodded, looking down on Viola resting in her lap. “Good, a bit sunburnt. And you?”

“Alright, not very sunburnt. Haven’t seen the bloody sun in over a week.”

Y/N laughed. “How’s mum? Has she been looking after you since you got the casts off?”

“Yeah, she’s at my flat all the time now. It’s nice of her to be here and make sure I don’t fall and break both legs again, but that won’t happen when I’m laying in my sofa!” She shouted the last part, clearly hoping that Elaine, who was somewhere in Portia’s flat, would somehow hear and get the memo.

“Is she being a pest?”

“Babe, you have no fucking idea.” Portia hissed, looking over her shoulder to make sure their mother wouldn’t hear her. “She won’t leave me alone.”

“She’s just looking out for you, though.” Y/N reasoned, watching as Viola jumped down from her lap and walked over to sit in the windowsill by the open window.

“And I appreciate that, but I don’t want her around all the time. She does my head in.”

Y/N chuckled, getting up to make herself a glass of iced tea. “Mum’s always done your head in, that’s what it’s like being the favourite.”

“Oh, lay off, I’m not Mum’s favourite.”

“Is that Y/N, dear?” Elaine walked into the room and suddenly she was visible over Portia’s shoulder. “Hello, love!”

Y/N did a little wave. “Hiya.”

“Why are you spending a sunny day inside your flat?” Elaine asked, and Y/N instantly dreaded coming home to those kinds of questions constantly till she left for uni again.

Y/N sighed. “I’m talking to Portia, Mum. It’s a hassle having to FaceTime someone when you’re out and about.”

“Still, you should be outside.”

Y/N was about to say something when Portia interrupted her. “Y/N is outside all the time, Mum. She’s outside hours on end working with H. Styles, aren’t you, babe?”

It wasn’t often Portia stood up for Y/N. They both knew that their mother wouldn’t listen to reason unless Portia was the one delivering it. Which didn’t happen often, but moments like these, when Portia actually spoke up for Y/N when their Mother wouldn’t have it, it made Y/N appreciate her sister in a way nothing else could.

“Yeah,” Y/N answered, giving Portia a small smile only the sister knew what meant. Thank you. “I spend most of my days outside, don’t worry.”

“Hope you do, air is good for you.”

“So I’ve heard.” Y/N sighed, placing the camera on the kitchen counter as she made her iced tea.

“What’re you up to today?” Portia asked, wanting to steer the conversation in another direction.

She was about to tell them what she was actually going to do. About to tell them how Harry had promised to take her to La Spezia, the biggest town close to Fosdinovo. That they would most likely go to dinner there and he would drive them back to Fosdinovo so he could work some more on his paintings. But before that, he’d take her to bed and they’d get tangled in the sheets, sweat, whimpers, and each other. That she’d most likely spend the night with him. She didn’t tell them that. Didn’t tell them how close she and H. Styles had gotten. Didn’t tell them she loved him. Didn’t tell them she’d never felt as whole yet free as when she was with him.

“Y/N?”

“Huh?”

Portia raised her eyebrows. “You zoned out for a sec there.”

“Oh. Sorry.” She cleared her throat, mixing her iced tea. “I’m not doing much. Maybe taking a stroll through town, say hi to Rin, Meo, and Carina.”

“Carina is the one who got married, yeah?”

Elaine frowned. “Married?”

“I told you, Mum,” Portia said, looking over at Elaine. “Y/N went to that wedding and the bloke turned out to be a complete nutter. Anyway,” she glanced back at Y/N. “Did Carina ever leave him?”

“Think they’re signing the divorce papers soon. I’m glad she decided to leave him.”

Portia groaned, leaning her head against the back of the sofa. “You’ve given me more goss this summer than I could’ve hoped for. How dull it’s going to be getting back to work again.”

“Aren’t you looking forward to it?” Y/N asked, walking back over to her kitchen table.

“In a way, but it’s been very nice to have you do all the work for me.”

Y/N chuckled; Portia joined in. Her face suddenly grew very serious and she looked at something in her lap. Elaine got up and walked off, having chores to get to and Portia waited till their Mum was out of earshot before she spoke again.

“I never thanked you properly.”

“For what?”

“For doing this for me.” She glanced at Y/N again. “It’s meant heaps. You always do these things and I take it for granted.”

Y/N bit her bottom lip, stirring the metal straw around in the tea. “You do.”

“I’m sorry.” Portia sighed. “I don’t mean it.”

“I know you don’t.”

Portia gave Y/N a small smile. “Will you ever forgive me for it?”

“For…?”

“For treating you like shit. For expecting you to do things for me.”

Y/N smiled back at her, taking a long sip of her old tea. “Just please don’t do it again and we’ll be fine.”

“I promise.” Portia nodded, sounding relieved, as if she’d thought of this for a long while now. “I won’t send you off to Italy for an entire summer to work with a grumpy painter ever again.” She laughed, but Y/N had to force her own. If Portia had never gotten herself injured, then Y/N would never have met Harry; would never have fallen in love; would never have loved as foolishly and completely as she did now. But the summer was coming to a close. Would it all have been for nothing in the end? Would she have fallen in love only to be forced out of it?

“Y/N?”

“Huh?”

Portia huffed. “What’s with you today? You’re not paying attention.”

“Sorry,” Y/N shook her head. “Go on. What were you saying?”

Harry placed the brush in her hand, enclosing her fingers around it before he brought it to the canvas. Trying her best not to disappoint him, she bit her lip, leaning her head against Harry’s as she concentrated on the painting.

“That’s it.” He mumbled, guiding her hand.

“Is it okay?”

“Well, I’m steering your hand so I’m basically painting. It’s brilliant.”

She nudged his shoulder, giggling a little and Harry looked at her, smiling. The two were sat on a small piano bench outside, Harry’s easel before them and an almost white canvas placed neatly on it. Y/N was wearing one of the tee shirts she’d left at Harry’s over the week and Harry had put on his dungarees, the cool evening air a refreshing break from the suffocating heat of day. Since they’d come home and shared their first kiss of the day, night had surrounded them again, and they had shagged multiple times before making their way to the balcony upstairs. They were so desperate for one another that it took everything out of both of them to hold back till they got home, so when they were completely alone, they simply could not help themselves. It felt right being together like this, without filters, without apology; just them.

“Look,” Harry took the brush from her hand, dipping it in some more orange and running it over the canvas. “To paint a sunset, you start with the colours of the sky. What colours you think will fit best?”

“What’re we painting?”

Harry huffed a small chuckle. “A sunrise.”

“Orange and maybe even some yellow.” Y/N answered, tilting her head as she watched him fill the blankness with more colour. “Oh, and blue! But just a tad.”

“You’re imagining a very sunny morning then?”

“A sunny morning in Essex.” Y/N smiled, looking at him. “The most beautiful sight in the world, if I may say so.”

“Oh, is it?” he asked, putting the brush away and placing his hand on her thigh, turning to face her.

“Uh-huh.” Her smile widened some as he moved closer to her, brushing his nose gently against hers.

“I can think of more beautiful sights than a sunrise in bleeding Essex.”

She huffed, turning away from him to look at the painting. A slight noise of complaint left Harry’s throat and he put his finger to her chin, guiding her face till her lips were right in front of his. At the feel of his breath against her skin, all hairs on her body rose. She wanted to move closer to him, to kiss him, but she wanted to see what would happen if she held back. Harry had come to make the first move quite often since they started… whatever they’d started. But she quite liked it when he took control. He so rarely let himself have control over anything that wasn’t his profession. Though he seemed to take great pleasure in taking control of Y/N and them every once in a while. Y/N liked that very much.

“You haven’t seen one, how can you say that?” she inquired, raising her eyebrows to challenge him.

“Because an Essex sunrise would pale next to my standards of the most beautiful sights in the world.” Harry mumbled, rubbing his nose against hers as he closed his eyes.

She smiled. “Which is?”

He smiled too, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. It felt like touching silk, tasted like a lifetime, and Y/N couldn’t get enough of it. She leaned into him, breathing him in. It felt so familiar, so right. As he pulled away, pressing a kiss to her nose, they both opened their eyes at the same time. She bit her lip, resting her head on his shoulder as he turned back to the painting. He dipped the brush in some yellow, spreading it out over and just below the orange.

“Did I ever tell you about my dreams?” Harry asked suddenly.

“What dreams?”

“Those I’ve had of you.”

A tingling sensation, excitement mixed with confusion, filled Y/N’s chest and she sat upright, looking at him. “I’ve… been in your dreams?”

“Multiple times.”

There was something so intimate, Y/N remarked, about hearing of your visit into someone else’s mind and dreams. Knowing you’d somehow been on their mind and made it into their unconscious state was flattering in a way a mere compliment could never live up to. It was beyond that. Harry put more paint on the brush before he took her hand again, guiding her hand over the canvas.

“Elaborate, please.” Y/N pleaded, biting her lip as she could make out Harry looking at her in her peripheral vision.

Harry cleared his throat a little, clearly just figuring out what he’d gotten himself into. With a curiosity like Y/N’s, she would demand every single little detail. He wasn’t hesitant to give them all to her though, it was just a matter of putting words to moments in his head and dreams that he had otherwise, till now, kept to himself.

“Most of my paintings are born from dreams.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he dipped the brush in more paint, letting her mix it with the orange on the page. “I get these moments in time, like watching something in slow motion almost.”

“They inspire you?”

“Yeah, it’s like a situation or a person inspire a songwriter to write a song.” Harry explained, letting go of her hand. “My dreams and… ultimately, you have inspired most of mine.”

She felt her cheeks heat up a bit. “Did you dream of me every time before a new painting?”

“Not in the beginning. I had most of them planned out.” He admitted, and though Y/N felt her heart sink a little at that, she still knew that she hadn’t been able to stand his person in the beginning as well. She couldn’t blame him. “But as time went on, you appeared in most of my dreams. The plan I had for my collection changed after I got to know you.”

She stopped painting, looking at him. “The collection’s changed?”

Harry was about to say something when there came knocking from the front door, soon followed by Jamie’s loud shouts. “Harry!” they called. “I know you’re on the balcony, mate!”

Harry sighed, glancing at the painting before meeting Y/N’s eyes again. “I’ll be right back.”

She didn’t get a nod in before Harry was off the piano seat and walking down the stairs to let Jamie in. After everything, Harry had started locking his front door the second after closing it, without fail. He didn’t let anyone into his house, and if someone paid him a visit – which people rarely did – he would usually not leave them alone in a room. Y/N understood his weariness, and though she hated seeing his trust having been bruised like this, she wasn’t about to explain to him that there was no use. The only person in this town who would dare to do something like that was now in jail a few towns over, meaning Harry and his paintings were safe. But that was easier understood from an outside perspective than an inside one. Harry would have his guard up for people he met and let into his life from now on. It was only Y/N he allowed full access to all of himself. He wasn’t ashamed or scared of letting her in. She felt so honoured to be part of his life like this.

Y/N heard Harry let Jamie in, and instantly, the two started chatting. Their voices were heated right off the bat, but it was like they didn’t want her to hear, their voices sounded like angry whispered hisses of sorts. Y/N places the paintbrush in the glass of water, getting up and walking slowly toward the staircase leading downstairs. Maybe she would hear what they were talking about better that way. She knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help herself.

“I swear,” Jamie said, listening in on what must be the middle of their conversation. “It’s like you don’t even understand what I’m trying to tell you.”

“That’s exactly what’s going on.”

Jamie groaned, the next part he said inaudible. Y/N stepped over the floorboard that she had come to learn was a bit creaky, and walked down the set of stairs to be closer to the two talking.

“You’re proud of yourself, aren’t you?” Jamie said, trying to keep their voice down.

“Which part?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Harry, don’t try and act innocent now.”

There was a pause, like the two had a sort of staring contest, daring the other one to say something. Y/N put her hands on the railing, biting her lip in anticipation of them starting to talk again. She heard Viola meowing downstairs and Harry sighing heavily, probably picking her up as he always did. He liked having her close. Just yesterday she’d taken her cast off and though she’d gotten used to not having it in a matter of a few hours, Y/N and Harry both liked carrying her. Y/N didn’t want the little cat to be at hers alone, so she’d brought her here. There wasn’t much in Y/N’s flat anyway now, almost everything was packed, ready for Friday.

“Y/N is upstairs, if you could-“

“-I know Y/N is upstairs.”

They fell quiet again, and Y/N wondered why Jamie’s voice sounded so harsh. What was going on? Had something happened?

“Harry, you can’t…” Jamie trailed off, groaning a little in what must be frustration.

“Can’t what?”

“I don’t want to have to say it.”

A slight pause before Harry growled, “Then don’t.” It was like he knew what Jamie was going to tell him. Y/N wished she did. She leaned a little more over the railing, willing them to speak up and put words to the situation.

“I think I might have to.” Jamie sighed. “Harry, you can’t-“

“-Jamie, I swear to God-“

“-You can’t shag your client.”

The house fell quiet once again and Y/N suddenly wished she hadn’t eavesdropped. Her heart sunk, sending a pain running through her entire body like one she’d never known before. Viola meowed again, Harry clearly having put her down on the ground again.

“Why?”

“You know why, Harry.” Jamie sounded defeated. Y/N had never imagined Jamie to act like this, but then again, listening to what they had to say, she understood. “It’s unprofessional.”

Harry huffed.

“What, H?”

“It’s unprofessional to fall in love?”

There was a slight pause before, “No, it’s unprofessional to go against the contract you yourself made Y/N and Portia sign.”

“Enlighten me.”

There was a rustling of papers as Jamie had clearly come prepared. “Want me to read you her contract or the agreement?”

“Aren’t they the same? They’ve both come back to bloody haunt me.-“

“-‘This agreement is made on the date of last signature below between: 1) The Employer: Harry Edward Styles, of Via Mizzani 1, Fosdinovo-“

“-I know my own fucking address, Jamie.-“

“-2) The Employee: Y/N Venus Sweeney, of 43 Overstone Road, Hammersmith, London, W6 0A-“

“-Jamie-“

“-The relationship between the two parties is to be strictly professional in nature, non-existent.’” There was a pause as Jamie ruffled through some more papers. “’The employee is not to distract the employer. They are not to form a bond outside the confines of the painting sessions.’” Jamie sighed. “Harry, you made this yourself. You decided on this contract and the agreement. There are tons more about her needing to ensure she’s not distracting you, how she’s not to come to your house, not to talk to you whilst you’re painting, not to invade your personal space, not to ask questions-“

“-I fucking get it.”

There was a slight bang, as if Jamie had slammed their hand onto the stack of papers on a table surface. “Do you, Harry?”

Silence sounded again, just Viola’s small paws against the metal staircase as she walked upwards toward Y/N. Viola meowed as she saw her, Y/N put a finger to her lips begging her not to make any noise. This whole situation was bad enough as it was without the wo downstairs knowing she was listening in.

“Can’t you just ruin the contract and the agreement, make another? I made these so I should be able to make a new contract.”

“People will find out, Harry.”

“How?”

“Because they always do. Especially when you’re a massive painter and people, tabloids, news reporters, all know your name.”

Harry groaned. “Then what will you have me do?”

There was a pause, as if Jamie was giving Harry some sort of look. Y/N bent down as Viola reached her, hugging her to her chest for comfort.

“No,” Harry growled. “No, Jamie.”

“You have to.”

“I’m not breaking it off with her.”

Jamie sighed. “It’s not a matter if you two want to or not; you have to. This isn’t what she’s here for, as is said in the contract. You didn’t want a relationship with her at all. People will find out about this, you will lose clients because of your unprofessionalism and your inability to keep to the rules of your own contract, and your success and reputation will be ruined. How are you supposed to listen to others and how are they supposed to take you seriously when you can’t even take yourself seriously enough to listen to your own words?”

Silence filled the house again; Y/N didn’t know what to do. She felt so helpless, so stupid. Viola purred against her, and Y/N wondered how someone could feel so content while the world of the person holding her was falling apart.

“I…” Harry stopped himself, clearing his throat some before he continued. “I must’ve forgotten.”

“If she’s in your bed right now, she’s undoubtedly forgotten as well.”

“Don’t fucking talk of her like that.” The words were venomous, telling them to watch their tone.

“This won’t just affect your career, Harry, it’s going to affect hers as well.”

This made Harry shut up, the quiet that followed was filled with agony. They had both been so blinded by the fact that Y/N would be leaving Italy and Harry soon that they hadn’t even thought of anything else. The contract she had been told to sign and what it had said, it had slipped Y/N’s mind. In truth, she didn’t properly read through it, thinking it couldn’t possibly be that strict and bad. Turns out it was, and now the two of them would have to live with the consequences. They couldn’t be.

“You know I want nothing but the best for you, Harry. Always have. That’s why I’m still here, why I’m working with you. You’re my best mate.” Jamie said, Harry sighing heavily at their words. “I don’t want to see you fail.”

“How about happy?”

“What?”

“You said you don’t want to see me fail; do you want to see me happy?” Harry asked. “I’ve not smiled as much as I have in the months she’s been here, then the entire year since the Salvatore incident. Or the years prior when I lived, worked, breathed completely alone.”

Jamie clicked their tongue. “I want to see you happy, but I want to find a way for you to be happy and still be able to paint for a living.”

“And I won’t be able to do that if I continue to be with Y/N?”

“No!” Jamie shouted, not caring anymore if Y/N could hear them or not. “You’ll be fucking miserable! I know you well enough to tell you this: without your work, without painting, you’ll be fucking miserable, Harry. If you flake on your own contract, what does that say about future professional relationships?”

Silence.

“You know I’m right.”

“Don’t fucking rub it in, Jamie.” Harry said, voice as low as Y/N remembered it to be when he was out of his mind angry. “Leave, please.”

Jamie let out a small groan. “Harry, don’t do this-“

“-Leave!” he repeated. “We’re not… doing this now.”

“Then when?”

Y/N heard Harry’s bare feet against the floor, already making his way towards the stairs. She quickly started walking up towards the loft with Viola against her chest still.

“In three days.”

“Why three days?”

“Because I said so!”

Y/N sat down by the easel, putting Viola down on the ground beside her, and pretending not to have listened at all. She heard the front door slam shut and Harry’s frustrated sigh as he reached the loft again. He stopped at the top of the stairs and she felt his eyes on her back, felt his frustration.

She knew why Harry wanted to talk to Jamie in three days. Knew why he was postponing it. She was leaving in three days. On that very Friday morning, she would say bye to Harry, be driven to the airport by a driver she’d never met, and probably never see Harry again. And she knew exactly where Jamie was coming from. Even when Harry sat down next to her, pretending not to have argued with Jamie minutes earlier about her and their relationship, Y/N was unable to think about anything else. Jamie was right. Harry and Y/N could simply not be together.

Thursday, 15 August 2019

All her stuff was at Harry’s. It would be easier for the driver to come to his place as the road by Y/N’s flat was very narrow and a nightmare to find a way out of unless you were driving a moped. It was the morning of her departure and Y/N had lied awake for a couple of hours, not wanting to move or get out of bed. She needed to take a bath before travelling to the airport, fully aware that because of the stress of her leaving as well as anxiety of never seeing Harry again, she’d been sweating more than usual that night.

Beside her, she hadn’t heard Harry all night. He usually breathed heavily, not quite snoring, but you would definitely know he was asleep if you ever heard him. She wondered if he’d slept lightly or not at all. Either way, she hated that she might be the cause of that. As she glanced over at him, his gaze was fixed on the ceiling overhead, deep in his thoughts. She didn’t want to disturb him or to break him out of his reverie if he was thinking of something important. Just barely, she could feel his hand in her hair, fingers running along her scalp in a soothing manner. If she hadn’t been so set on the fact that she was dreading leaving, she would’ve fallen back asleep.

Y/N sat up, about to get out of bed and walk to Harry’s bathroom when-

“-Where are you going?”

She looked down at him, his eyes fixed on her now. “Need to take a bath before I leave.”

Harry nodded slightly, and she was about to try and leave bed again when he took a grip of her wrist, sliding his hand down to hold hers. She waited for him to say something, but instead he just looked at her hand in his, stroking his thumb tenderly over her.

“Harry.”

“I need a date.” He suddenly blurted out. “I need to know the exact date I’ll get to see you next after this.”

She bit her lips together, glancing down at their hands as well. “I’ll be in London or Essex; you know where to find me, you have my addresses.”

“I do, but…” he paused, frowning. “I’ll only be in London for a week, max. And that’s at the end of tour. Six months away.”

“And I need to focus on my studies.” Y/N said, aware that if she was going to knock some sense into both her and Harry, she had to be harsh about it.

Harry’s frown deepened and he looked up at her. “I know that. I’m not telling you not to, it’s important.”

She nodded, not meeting his eyes.

He sat up as well, wanting to get a closer look at her. “Y/N.”

Her glance didn’t waver from their joined hands.

“Celeste.” He squeezed her hand some, making her look at him. She couldn’t help herself when he called her that. “We’re going to be okay.”

She looked away again, feeling her eyes sting. Why did Harry get her to feel so much all at once? She was both filled to the brim with the loveliest feelings in the whole entire world, but she also felt her chest about give out, like an oncoming earthquake that would shake her up and cause havoc for weeks, months, years to come.

Harry’s grip on her loosened. “What?”

“Hm?”

“You’re acting weird.”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“There’s more than that.”

She was quiet.

“Y/N-“

“-I heard yours and Jamie’s conversation the other day.” She looked at him again, and the instant she did, she saw sadness appear at the corners of his lips and desperation pooling somewhere in his eyes. “About the contracts.”

Harry sighed, closing his eyes.

“They’re right, Harry.”

“No,” he brought her hand into his lap, holding it tightly. “How can you say that?”

“Didn’t you hear what they were trying to tell you?”

“Yes, I did.” Harry said, eyes meeting hers. “But how can you say that?”

She furrowed her brows, exhaling slowly.

“If you feel even half of what I’m feeling, how can you say that?” Harry held her hand to his lips, not leaving a kiss there or anything alike, he just left it there as a reassurance that she was still with him. She hadn’t left yet. His eyes fell to the bed again. “I refuse to let you leave me like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like we’re never going to see each other again.” He said, sighing heavily against her hand. “Y/N, why are you saying this?”

“Because,” she blinked a few times, willing the tears away. “I’m trying to be realistic.”

“You don’t think we’re it?”

“I think I signed a contract months ago not knowing I would ultimately come to catch feelings for the person who wrote it.”

He looked over at her. “What does that matter?”

She sighed again. “Harry-“

“-How does it matter in the slightest?” he asked, moving closer to her and resting their hands against her chest so he could feel her heartbeat. “How does anything matter besides how much we feel for one another? Love is stronger, greater, truer than anything else, and no matter what the world throws its way, it will win. Love will always win.”

She felt her eyesight get blurrier. “How can you say that for certain? There are countless stories of people who were meant to be but couldn’t be ‘cause of circumstances.”

“And I’m sorry for them,” Harry said, a sad crease appearing between his brows as he saw the effect his words had on her. “But most of them at least tried to fight.”

She exhaled shakily.

“I’m ready to fight for us, Y/N. For you.”

She sobbed. “For me?”

“I wouldn’t even hesitate.”

Biting her lips together, she just looked at him, willing her racing heart and her blurry sight to calm down.

“There is absolutely no limit to what I would do… the lengths I would go…” he moved closer again, resting his forehead against hers. “Celeste, you have to believe that what I feel for you is larger than my mere existence.” He squeezed her hand. “It transcends my single body, it’s more than a simple human lifetime. I understand why people say love can change the world. If felt strong enough, it’s the greatest emotion and tool of the entire universe. It can be someone’s pillar and their downfall.”

She held onto him tighter.

“Don’t let it be our downfall, Y/N. I beg you.”

There was absolutely not a single part of her that wanted to leave. She wanted to stay in Fosdinovo with Harry till they were both grey and old, she wanted to stay here forever. As Harry had said, they were it. Why couldn’t she just tell him she felt it too? That she too knew that no matter who she met after Harry, no matter the attraction or how compatible they were, Y/N would never feel about them the same way she felt about Harry. No one could ever match him, and it would be dumb to even try.

But when would they meet next? Would they be able to stand the distance? Not talking for a few days? They’d basically spent all summer in each other’s company, how did they know a life without the other in it after this? Y/N was sure her love for Harry could conquer everything, but loving someone was different from surviving without them. Her love would still be there, even if they weren’t and never would be.

Letting go of one last sigh, Y/N got up from the bed, and walked to the bathroom. She knew Harry was watching her, and knew she needed to get about her bath before the driver arrived and she had to leave. She closed the door, crouching down beside the bath and turning the water on, checking it was the perfect temperature before she put the plug in, spreading some of her soap in the rising water. She waited, not trying to let her mind wander back to Harry alone in his bed. How she had just left him after that. How he didn’t want them to end things. But how she knew herself that it would be incredibly hard to wait six months before she got to see him again. It would be better for both of them if they just ripped off the band-aid right away instead of slowing the process down.

She got into the bathtub, sliding down the back of it, and closed her eyes. The warm water embraced her, offering a last sort of comfort before she would have to leave. She thought back on her summer. Let the memories wash over her. Sitting there, she tried to understand how this had all come about. How she had fallen in love with a painter who had treated her like nothing but shit the first few weeks of her stay here. How that same painter was a completely different person now. How he wanted her to believe in him and what they had enough to survive time and space. And she was sure their love for one another would. But at some point, time and space was too much and the lack of the presence of the other wasn’t much so.

She was terrified, she had to admit. There was not a single soul she had cared for or loved as much as Harry, and that alone mortified her. Harry had said so himself; their love was bigger than themselves, it was something more. Just by pressing her skin against his, Y/N felt like they were creating entire galaxies. Together they had made something bigger than themselves, something neither of them knew how to properly control if they weren’t together. So what would six months do? Seven months? A year?

Slowly, the door to the bathroom opened, revealing Harry to her. He was wearing his dungarees, something she had come to associate with him along with his pink Converse. She looked up at him, waiting for him to walk inside and do whatever he had thought of doing. What she hadn’t expected, was for Harry to sit down beside the bathtub. He reached for her cheek, caressing her so gently it felt like feathers against her skin. Gradually he reached for her neck, begging her to meet him halfway. And she did. It was the kind of kiss that held a promise. Y/N wasn’t sure what kind of promise it was or why it made her feel both hopeful and sad, but she clung to it. Both her hands rested at each of Harry’s cheeks, holding him to her. All his words earlier tattooed themselves to her memory, her brain, her heart. She would never forget them or the person who said them. This summer had brought her tenderness and thousands of lessons learned, but most importantly, it had brought her Harry, and for that she would forever be grateful.

Harry slid his hand down her shoulder, caressing her breast, into the hot water, and sliding his hand over her tummy. She kissed him harder as he reached lower, as he slid his middle and ring finger between her folds. Letting out a breathy moan, she let the feeling of Harry’s long fingers against her ever-growing sensitive bud take over everything she knew. The thought of Harry just wanting to please her without needing her to give anything back to him like most idiot men did, was everything to her. He just wanted to please her; just wanted to see her come, to see her smile and happy. It made her feel so incredibly much love for him all at once that the butterflies in her tummy went crazy. They flew into her core, flying in a circle so fast and creating a low hum of pleasure between her legs. She closed her eyes, relishing in Harry’s careful movements, letting him take complete control of her. When she opened her eyes again, looking straight into his though the sight was a little blurry, she could tell he hadn’t taken his eyes off her for a single second. He had watched her as her desire and desperation for him rose, as she started moving her hips ever so slightly to get that familiar spark of pleasure running through her.

As his mouth fell open at the sight of her, Y/N suddenly became very aware of just how much she ached for him. Her cunt was slick and very hot as Harry felt her out, and though she was in a bathtub and most areas were already wet, being turned on and ready for someone was a completely different kind. He no doubt felt her need for him rise. Staring at her the way he did, Y/N was sure he was savouring this moment just like she was. He wanted her to get off just so he could remember how well he was able to please her; so he could look back on this moment and her; so he could remember them this way forever. Being wet and desperate for him like this, every little sensation she felt was heightened, especially her clit and hole. A whimper left her lips, spilling onto Harry’s that hovered over hers.

“Yeah?” he said. “Does that feel good, baby?”

“Yes.” She breathed, not being able to help herself as he pushed his two fingers into her.

With his other hand, Harry took a grip of her hair, holding her face to his as he slid his fingers in and out of her. Though Harry loved getting her off, he usually did so with his tongue and not his fingers alone. They would rather get to it and fuck each other, as they had done senselessly and passionately for a week now. They moved so well together, fit together so well it almost felt meant to be. Nothing felt more right and certain than being with Harry, yet it was wrong and it would require time and strength and patience. How was it that all good things came with a prize? Wasn’t it hard enough that you had to search for your soulmate, but when you found them, they were hard or impossible to be with? Life would always found something and throw it in the way of a person’s wants.

She closed her eyes again, hearing the water splash around her as Harry started moving his hand harder. Pounding her deeper and making sure to get her exactly right. He knew the right buttons to press now, knew the small tricks and what would make her scream if he wanted her to. She loved how well he knew her. Loved that he had cared to even learn the small things about her, what would have her arch her back and repeat his names at the top of her lungs. Loved that he knew how she preferred her breakfast, her favourite drink, colour, her daily routines, and her sense of style. Loved that he had taken the effort to get to know her like she had done to him. She would never forget the small things about him.

“Stay,” he whispered, voice almost breaking. “And if you won’t stay, wait for me.”

She moaned, opening her eyes to look at him. Her grip on the hair at his neck and forearm tightened as the tension in her core did the same. She moved with him and her movements were frantic, needing the friction to increase and the fire in her lower stomach to build up into a huge explosion of pleasure. Water spilled everywhere, and Harry didn’t care in the least. Didn’t even bat an eye when he heard it hit his tiles. All her nerves perked up, a climax not far off.

“Y/N,” Harry mumbled. “Say something.”

She gripped him harder. “Harry.”

He tightened his hold on her hair, bringing her closer to him, moving his fingers a little faster. He was driving her completely mad. Absolutely mental. He knew that gripping her hair like that, moving the way he did, he would cause a reaction from her.

“Stay.”

“Baby, you know I can’t.” She said, moaning loudly.

He curled his fingers, fucking her harder and faster, letting her frantic state grow. She breathed harshly, gasping. He was hitting that exact spot that was like throwing fuel into a flame, because Y/N felt nothing but her orgasm just then.

“Then wait for me.” He said, voice low and desperate. “Please, Celeste.”

The bubble was about to burst, the pleasure inside of her was like white noise in her ears. Nothing but the feeling of Harry’s fingers, the hot water around her, his hand in her hair, breath mingling with hers, nothing else mattered. He was here, making sure she left him knowing what he could give her and more.

“I’ll wait for you.” He said, leaning down and kissing her neck. “Please, wait for me.”

She leaned her head against his, nails digging into his skin, frantic because the orgasm she was about to have would undoubtedly make her legs and entire world shake.

“Come for me, baby.” He mumbled against her, kissing her jaw. “Come. Only for me.”

She breathed harshly and moaned a little too loudly, but she could not control herself. She gasped. It ran up her spine, her torso, down her thighs, and to her fingertips that was clinging to Harry. She felt it everywhere, like it radiated off her entire body. It was like magic had found a place to hide inside her, running through her like every incredible sensation the world had to offer. The orgasm toned down in waves and Y/N only realised once she opened her eyes again that her legs had been shaking.

Harry lifted his head, letting go of her hair and sliding his fingers out of her. He leaned forward, giving her a desperate kiss. She felt it in every cell of her body. Everything within her was reaching for him, not wanting to leave but knowing that she had to. There was a life waiting for her back home, an important one at that, and she simply could not cut that part of her life off because she wanted to stay in Fosdinovo with Harry. They breathed harshly against one another and as Harry pulled away, a small whimper left Y/N’s lips, begging him to kiss her again. He did, just as hard and passionate as the time before. But suddenly he got up, walked out of the bathroom, and left her alone to get cleaned up and dressed. It was a mere 15 minutes till the driver would be here after all.

She got ready. Putting her clothes on, fixing her hair, and making sure she didn’t look as sad as she felt. But in the middle of getting ready, she heard honking outside, and everything within her sank. It was time. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, willing herself to calm down. She couldn’t walk downstairs a weeping mess. The driver would be horrified and Harry would never let her leave if she was crying. She walked out of the bathroom, but her suitcases weren’t there. Instantly, she knew Harry had carried them down, and she wasn’t sure if she appreciated him doing it or despised him for not letting her do it herself so she could stay there a few minutes longer.

“Sweeney?” asked the driver as she got downstairs.

Y/N gave him a smile. “Yes, sir.” Looking past him, she saw Harry putting the last of her stuff in the boot of the car, a look on his face that could either be of concentration or of restraint to show what he was actually feeling. Harry shut the boot, giving the driver a small nod as they walked down the front stairs and to the driver’s seat.

Y/N stepped outside, letting the Italian summer sun hit her one last time and for once not detesting the fact it hurt her eyes. Harry stood at the bottom of the stairs waiting for her as she made her way down. His dungarees were still wet, but it was already starting to dry in the heat of morning.

She let go of a heavy sigh as she reached him. “Harry-“

But she stopped herself as he took her hand in his. “Don’t.” He said lowly. “It’ll only make this harder.”

She nodded, very aware that it would be. Whatever either of them said now would make it harder. But what made it even worse was Harry bringing her hand up, and kissing it as tenderly as he had done that first time. Slowly he turned her hand around, kissing it just as softly and bringing tears to Y/N’s eyes that she had tried to hard to keep at bay. Their eyes met and as he saw how glassy hers were, something in his face changed. Before he could reach up and try and console her, something that would make everything worse times ten, Y/N walked past him and to the car. She closed the door, put her seatbelt on and glanced out the window at Harry who had turned around, not taking his eyes off her for a single second.

The engine roared to life, the driver stepped on the pedal, and away they went. Her heart was racing, unable to believe that she was leaving Fosdinovo for good now. The village she had spent all summer in, that she had come to love. The cat she considered a great friend, and the other actual human beings that had made a huge impact on her. Possibly the love of her life. She was leaving it all behind. And as she felt a tear roll down her cheek, she knew that no matter what, nothing would mend the loss of any of it.

She swore she heard her name being called somewhere behind them, like a desperate plea somewhere in the cloud of dust the car made along the country roads. But as she turned around to look out the back window, hoping to see him there, she saw nothing. It must’ve only been a figment of her imagination. She turned back around and went home to England.

NEXT UPDATE: 1st March 2020, 9PM GMT

a huge thanks to my lovely beta readers!

💙 @aileenacoustic 💙 @emotionally-imbruised 💙 @fromyourstrulyh 💙

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #WOOOOOO PLS COME TALK

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cockasinthebird · 5 years ago

Text

Apparently I never shared this here?? Some more Soulmate AU because fuck if it isn’t cute

For a Saturday morning, Steve is awake surprisingly early.

When his alarm rings at 8am, he shoots up and has exactly ten minutes to become clear headed after too little sleep, maybe 4 hours or so; it's so hard to fall asleep when his skin tingles.

Feet stumble over yesterdays outfit, as he rushes into his bathroom to turn on the shower, drowsy movement guided by a groggy head from lack of sleep, but it's worth it all when he catches himself in the mirror.

“What song best represents you?” Steve had written on his bicep, and the response was-

“Rock you like a hurricane ;)” Which... isn't a surprise. “You?”

“Don't you forget about me”

He still feels a slight blush creep up when he sees what Billy's response had been. “I won't.”

“Show me your moles again” Billy had requested, written across his ribs.

And Steve had taken his time with that; circled every single one he could reach from the comforts of his bed. Up and down his arms, his chest, that he shaves for this exact reason, abdomen, shins... thighs... hips... down where he trims his pubic hair, body oddly... excited to reveal certain locations, and his heart races as he re-reads, in impressive cursive-

“Oh ;)” down between his legs.

He catches himself grinning like a fool in the mirror.

Then looks at his left hand, words on his wrist-

“Take my hand”

The circle in the middle of his palm has faded a bit, probably worn off by Billy as he had gone about his day-to-day in Australia, while Steve had slept in America.

And he reaches for the ballpoint pen on the sink – a tactic he was quick to learn, is to always have something to write with in every room of the house, rather than just carry one pen with him everywhere and occasionally lose it – then retraces the circle in his palm, now fresh and clear blue.

It takes less than 10 seconds before he feels pressure in the same form again, as Billy draws on top of the circle in his own palm.

Next there's a gentle and familiar tickling across his naked hip-

“Good morning princess” and a little crown scribbled above the i.

Steve is so, so tempted to draw out a heart, to just make that tiny little shape down there, but the both of them understand what a heart so low means. So he simply signs off with a singular dot, to show “message received.”

And in the shower he does his best to wash away old messages and song lyrics; to clean up the canvas for today's fresh pen strokes. His skin is itching to be touched and used again already, ready to be marked up everywhere the two of them can reach.

When the clock says 08:09am he's out of the shower and drying his hair – never before has he washed up so quickly, but for good reason, because barely does the clock switch to 08:10am, when the phone on his bedside table rings.

“Harrington residence, this is Steve,” he says all courteous and well mannered, but who else would it be other than-

“Hey pretty boy,” Billy drawls out.

A smile grows immediately. Steve leans against the table and smooths his hair back from where it lies limply against his forehead. “Hi.”

“You busy?”

Steve hums in feigned contemplation and looks around his room, only slightly messy. “I guess I can take a break from my busy morning for you.”

The way Billy chuckles deep in the receiver urges forth goosebumps down Steve's bare arms.

“Want me to put on some music?” Steve asks per the usual.

Since he lives alone and hates the silence of such an empty home, he listens to music near constantly, and it eventually became a bit of a thing between them, to always have something running in the background.

“Yeah, play the song you mentioned earlier.”

The song he had said “represented him best”, although having thought more about it, there are several songs that could describe him and his life, Tainted Love, Sweet Dreams are made of this, Don't you want me. Plenty of songs put in to words how utterly lonely and starved for attention he truly is, but Don't you forget about me had been the subtlest choice in a constant struggle to not come off as clingy.

“Ok, hold on!” the tone he had intended was soft, but it jumped right into eager before the words had even left his tongue.

Swiftly with practiced hands, he slips out the vinyl from its sleeve, lifts up the plastic cover for the turntable, and places the stylus in the grooves of the LP. The music is low and Jim Kerr's voice fills the room.

Steve dances; pumps his shoulders to the beat and spins his way back to the bed, then lands with a poomf next to the phone receiver he had thrown onto his covers.

“Is it too loud?” he asks with closed eyes as he listens to the song.

“No it's good,” Billy says with a clear smile to his tone. “And the song isn't that bad.”

Saying that they have vastly different tastes in music would be a severe understatement. Sure, a few of the records that Steve has lying around his house is technically from rock bands- Van Halen, Inxs, even Simple Minds is rock, but not the right type of rock according to Billy. It's pop rock, it doesn't count.

“Sleep well, princess?”

Steve feels his lips twitch further up at that stupid name that started out as a tease years ago when Steve had been crying about not getting his way with his rich parents, but now it was something dear.

“Mmh yeah,” he mumbles out and leans into the phone. “Didn't get much sleep though.”

“Hey you can't blame that on me, I was at work all day,” Billy laughs, “You're the one that started it all... couldn't stop thinking about you after you fell asleep.”

“And now I'm awake and you're going to bed,” Steve whines only a bit.

“Yeah... time zones suck.”

There's a short silence, as the chorus plays-

Don't you, forget about me

Don't, don't, don't, don't

Don't you, forget about me

“Tell me about your day.” He crawls further up the bed till he meets with his pillows, and takes the pen from his bedside table.

“Same shit as every other Saturday really, spent all day at work getting distracted.”

The insinuation in his tone makes Steve laugh.

“My co-workers really tease me about it sometimes, they noticed all the circles on my skin and asked about it.”

“And what did you say?”

“The truth; that my soulmate was marking all her moles...” It's clear in his voice that Billy stopped smiling. “I'm sorry that I haven't told them that you're a-”

“A guy?” Steve interrupts, his own mood slightly sour, but he gets it; he can't blame Billy for the way the world works. “Billy...” he speaks softly, “I don't want you to feel bad about not telling anyone that I'm Steve and not Stacy. I've only told one person here the whole truth.”

“Robin, right?”

“Yeah, from history.” He pops off the cap on the ballpoint pen, and sits up to start drawing little flowers up on his thigh.

“Hmm...” Billy hums as he has probably noticed. “How's it going with her and Heather?”

“Pretty good; Robin's become an oddly proficient swimmer suddenly.” And Steve chuckles, “I'm kinda feeling neglected though. My best friend is spending more time with her girlfriend than me!”

“Well...” Billy's voice suddenly so warm and sweet like honey, as he says, “What can you do when you're in love.”

And Steve's heart beats an extra few times upon hearing Billy say that word. Love. Yeah, what can you do...

“Anyway,” Billy says as there's no response from Steve. “There is this one guy at work, uhh, think his name is Julien? Julian? Julius? Something with a J, it doesn't matter. I think he might be gay, too.”

Steve perks up a brow with a sly smirk. “Oh? And how do you know that?”

“I dunno,” his response a slight mumble, “He just... gives off a vibe?”

And the other brow goes up. “A vibe?”

“Yeah! Like!” frustration apparent at the fact that Steve doesn't just get what he's saying. “You know... all... well groomed?”

Steve chortles loud enough for it to drown out the music through the phone. “Ok, go on.”

“His hair is just always so nice, face clean shaven and skin always so clear...”

“Oh you must have gotten pretty close to notice all of that,” Steve is still bubbling with leftover laughter.

“Steve...” but Billy sounds so worried. “You know I wouldn't-”

“I haven't asked you not to,” Steve interrupts and looks up into the air, as if he could catch Billy's eyes and give him a reassuring look. He can feel that they're all so suddenly on the brink of a rather important discussion that they've already had.

“I know! I know...” Billy sighs. “I just want you to know that I haven't... been with anyone ever since you and I started...”

Getting serious? Are they serious? With an ocean between them, can they be...

“Yeah, me neither...” Steve's heart thumps as his mind starts spewing out ideas of what it would be like... to be with Billy. “But you can. If you want to. You don't need my permission, Billy.”

“Yeah you've said that already, and the same goes to you, too, of course.”

“I know...”

But there's a clear air of assumption between them, despite the thousands of miles. Assumption, expectation, hope that there's a chance...

The song repeats again.

Won't you, come see about me

I'll be alone, dancing you know it baby

Yet the two of them don't say a word. Just listens to the song, together. The type of silence between them that can only be achieved with someone you're so comfortable with. When Steve feels Billy draw in his hand, and looks to see a heart in his palm. A little, shy heart.

And he can't help but smile warmly; feels his cheeks heat up with unspoken feelings- the kind that just came naturally over the last 7 years, and that he wishes to cherish forever.

He draws a heart around Billy's, just slightly bigger, surrounding it, like an embrace.

“Getting tired yet?”

“Yeah,” Billy sighs, sleepy and exhausted. “I always feel so drained during winter. It's so cold and dark... I miss being a lifeguard, but no one wants to go to the beach in this shitty weather. And I use my body in a different way as a mechanic, and I have to deal with customers and co-workers...” he complains about it a lot, but Steve knows that Billy loves getting to spend all day getting dirty and fiddling with cars.

Once talked about opening his own shop somewhere. Says he hasn't quite decided where to do so yet.

Assumption, expectation, hope...

“Should we hang up?”

“Mmmh, no, let me just hear the song a few more times,” is his reasoning, but they both know that that's not why.

They always struggle with hanging up, which is why they don't do this as much as they want to- other than it being expensive of course. Despite their souls being connected and bodies bonded this way, being on either end of the phone line is when they truly exist together. Even in silence, just knowing the other is there too keeps the world away.

“Want me to trace my hand?” Steve whispers softly, his voice a sweet little thing, only for Billy's ears.

“That'd be nice, yeah.”

And oh how he wishes he could see Billy now; eyes closed, a warm and dopey smile, tan body naked under the sheets. There's nothing he wants more in life, than to fall asleep with his muscular arms wrapped around himself, to share body heat, to share their breaths.

But for now, he can settle with drawing the pen along the lines in his palm; creating an endless pattern that Billy describes as feeling like you're running your finger over my skin.

The closest thing to caressing his soulmate that he can get. For now. And the last thing he hears from Billy's end, is him humming with pleasure of the gentle touch.

#Harringrove #My Writing #Soulmate AU #Fluffy fluff fluff #Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #working on another part

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kimkims-world · 4 years ago

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when he suddenly likes you back

you had a crush on taehyung.

you don't know what happened, what triggered it but you were 100% sure you are head over heels for this man.

you thought you kept it low, not being so obvious. you would only steal some glances, and acting shy and nervous with all that stuttering stuff. you didn't make yourself shy though, you were actually shy when kim taehyung decides to grace his presence.

i mean, who wouldn't?

to you, he's like this sweet human being that brings happiness to your world and gave colors to your blank canvas. you like him THAT much.

until one day taehyung texted you to meet up and your whole world turned dark.

turns out he knew about the little feelings of yours towards him. he said you were like an open book, too easy to read.

you still remembered what he said that day.

"that's sweet of you and i appreciate it. really, i do. but i couldn't return your feelings, we can still be friends? i mean, if you want to. i hope this won't hurt you."

well, it hurts A LOT.

you never even wanted to confess in the first place because you were scared of rejection. rather than being dissapointed in taehyung, you were quite angry at yourself for being too obvious.

it gave an impact to you of course.

there were countless of days you wasted your tears to the point you just couldn't cry anymore, sleepless nights thinking that maybe you weren't good enough, and the numb ache in your chest that doesn't seem to go away.

you stopped talking to taehyung at campus because he will look at you with apologetic eyes that you surely do not need. so you decided to hang more with your group of friends and try to shake him off your head or maybe busy yourself with some work.

you didn't want to be stuck on him forever. you were sane enough to think that there are other guys like him, or maybe better. it was the only thing that tied yourself together and finally you got over him.

after all the struggles, all the pain, you've made it.

yes, you see him quite often especially when you share every classes together. but the way you see him is different now, he just looks like a guy. not the light to your world, not the colors to your canvas, not anymore.

it's just taehyung.

and you can proudly say you have succeeded on loving yourself. though not fully, you can say it was a progress that you worked hard for. all those nights drowning in self-hate for not being enough for your crush pains you so you were determined to make you feel better about yourself.

you found new hobbies that you enjoyed a lot and found comfort on pampering yourself. you finally realize that you did not need a guy to feel whole, all you need is yourself.

you are undeniably happy.

you and taehyung didnt have that tension anymore so both of you hung out again. you both hung out very often, more than when you had a crush on him.

this time taehyung and you were walking back from hanging at a cafe on a snowy day. the road was covered with beautiful white and the fluffy snowflakes kissed the ground. you love snow.

you didn't notice taehyung slowing his pace until you let out an 'oof' when something hit you from behind.

you whipped your head and caught taehyung balling some snow in his hands.

"oh it's on." you took some snow near you and quickly bunch it up in your hands before launching it at taehyung.

taehyung managed to hit you again and both of you now are laughing like crazy, ignoring the people that passed by giving a disapproving look.

"okay stop!" you panted, clearly tired after the intense war you just experienced.

your attention averted to the falling snowflakes. you put both of your hands out, wanting to catch a snowflake. you giggled ecstaticly when one landed on your palm, a wide smile appeared on your face before you glance at taehyung who was oddly quiet.

"taehyung i caught a snowflake!" you squealed happily.

taehyung stayed quiet as a small smile was visible. he looked bewitched for some reason. his eyes delicately scanned your glowing face.

he wordlessly pulled both of your wrists after the snowflake melted by the warmth of your palms that was covered with mittens.

you blinked, completely caught off guard by the sudden action.

"is everything okay?" you asked. worried that something might be wrong because taehyung is being too quiet.

"y/n," his low voice send shivers down your spine as he stares at you with his hazelnut warm orbs.

"hmm?" you answered, eyes widening to urge him to continue.

"i like you." he said breathily, his warm breath brushing your face softly.

this time your eyes got two times bigger if that is even possible. your head spinning after you heard what he said. how dare he?

anger bubbles in you as you stare at his annoyingly perfect face. why is he so careless? just why?

you yanked your wrists away and taehyung clearly didn't see that coming.

"taehyung, what is wrong with you?" your brows furrowed as you look at the boy. "you can't just waltz in whenever you want to. am i some kind of joke to you?"

"of course not—"

"then why now?" you looked at his as your visions became blurry.

you were angry, sad, disappointed, confused. just when you finally feel better and got out from the pit of darkness that almost ate you alive making yourself suffer. that days were enough to slap you out of reality and opening up to new things.

and when you are already at the top and finally satisfied with where you are now, he decides to bring the past back?

"you've said it yourself taehyung."

"i know what i said!"

"then why are you doing this!?" your heart squeezed as you feel hot tears running down your cheeks. the mixes of feelings whoosh to you like a hurricane. "don't you know how much that hurted me? how much pain i went through and how much struggle i needed to bear to be here?"

taehyung's expression was depressing, he didn't want to see you cry but deep down he knew that what he did was wrong. it was careless of him to reject your feelings but he has his own reasons on why he did it.

someone threatened him that if he didn't cut ties with you, your life will be put at stake. the person was arrested a few months ago so that's why taehyung approached you again to start over.

he saw everything.

from when you were looking so depressed and emotionless, the colors drained from your bright face to the slow progress of healing and picking yourself up to stand tall and strong. he was absolutely proud of you for being able to trudge through everything and overcoming the depths of despair.

"i know." taehyung's voice was so weak, it sounds pathetic to his ears as his head hung low and eyes not worthy to stare at yours that are glowing like a blazing fire, the strength from within you twice bigger and more fierce.

the pain made you independent and powerful.

"you don't. you don't know taehyung! you don't know the days i need to put up a facade in front of you every goddamn time, you don't know how tiring it was getting through the day and crying alone without no one beside me, you don't know the sleepless nights i went through thinking i wasn't enough, you have no idea how hard it is to be able to let you go—"

you were suddenly pulled into his chest. his scent waft over your nose which makes your tears flow out like a broken dam. you clenched his coat in your fists, screams muffled because of your face pressed against his chest, and body shaking because of the immense pain and also the coldness that suddenly felt unbearable to you.

you hit his chest, taehyung being unable to stop you because he knew he deserve it. he deserve every hit you throw at him.

"those times were my worst nightmare." you whimpered.

taehyung's heart ached as he heard your trembling voice clearly in pain. the guilt that was in him becoming bigger as you try to quiet your sobs. you were the same before he broke your heart but different at the same time.

the old y/n won't try to disguise her agony, where the y/n now tries to stop her tears and act tough.

"i'm sorry y/n, i don't deserve you." taehyung sighed as he caress your hair emotionally.

"i'm not blaming you taehyung," you hiccuped as you wiped away the tears. "feelings can be so random and maybe just maybe, we can find each other in the right time."

taehyung bit his lip as he stare at the woman who has grown so much. technically, it was all his doing but the choice of staying strong and refusing to collapse is yours. you learn from the heartbreak and being able to build a better you.

what you said may be right, because maybe you both were at the wrong timing. the universe was having fun playing with you but now it is going to give you the perfect chance. who knows?

"alright, i hope to see you soon y/n." taehyung nodded to you while staring deeply into your eyes, never wanting this separation.

"me too."

4 years later

you were so excited as you got ready for a college reunion after a few years of graduating. though you kept in touch with some of your friends, the thought of meeting other familiar faces made you feel giddy.

you went out of your apartment and took your car to drive there. the distance was not that far but is still enough to take some time but you finally arrived at the bar. you heard that it was owned by one of your college friends.

you entered the bar and saw a lot of people greeting you. you squealed as you see some faces that you know too well and gave them the biggest bear hug.

you manage to slowly walk further into the pact bar and whem glance at s certain table, someone was already giving you the warmest smile.

the smile that succesfully sweep you off your feet and helplessly make you fall deeper.

"long time no see, tae." you smiled as the guy stood up and approached you.

"you too, y/n."

and you swore you felt your heart skip a beat.

#taehyung #jimin #bts #bts imagine #bts fanfic #imagines #college romance #yoongi #seokjin #namjoon #jungkook #hoseok #bangtan #taehyung imagine #soft #angst #fluff #kpop

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xpeachesncream · 4 years ago

Text

acquainted | you choose to stay

> series masterlist | series playlist <

summary: the biggest goal of a grad student is to get through school in one piece - no petty drama involved, no sweating over the little things. however, that plan almost always never follows through. sometimes, you can’t help but fall into the most unthinkable, unexpected traps and learn the hard way. like, exhibit a: being unable to resist your engaged, substitute teacher, kim seokjin.

pairing: reader x engaged!teacher!seokjin

genre: grad school au, student life au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 2.5k

warnings: cussing/mature language, soft smut, some breast and clit play, slight begging, multiple orgasms, honestly more so into the soft love-making over anything rough

notes: we’ve made it to the end 🥺 yes - there is an option for you to choose to leave as well, please check the masterlist if you don’t catch the post alone! ily all, thank you for sticking through the series! stay tuned for bands, it’ll be just as much of a crazy ride! 💘

tags: @laurynne5 @yiyi4657 @miinoongi @teamtardis-notdead@bluesharksandfish@photographic-girl @yonkoghan @moonchild1 @thebeebi @brightcolorsoffendme

"Jin?" You ask as he slowly turns around, his expression warm and inviting. He carried a huge bouquet of flowers in front of him, so huge it almost covered that small smile he gave off.

"Y/N."

"W-what're you doing here? How'd you know when I'd be home?" Ryujin.

He scratched his head nervously and chuckled. "Ryujin."

"Figures." You chuckle.

"These are for you, I got them at the farmer's market earlier. I saw them and thought of you." You smile as you take the bouquet and bring it close to your nose. They smelled sweet, and fresh. Just like Jin. "I, uh, was hoping we could talk."

"Sure." You nod as he takes your duffle bag from you while waiting for you to open your door. You set the flowers aside in the vase, Jin dropping your things in the living room before making his way over to the couch.

"How was spending time back home?"

"Good, much needed." You looked up from the vase. "What did you do this weekend?"

"Not much. Spend some time with Jungkook." You nod, feeling relieved that they had been able to spend time together and slowly fix their relationship.

"That sounds nice. I'm glad you two are fixing things."

"Slowly but surely." You make your way over to the couch and sit next to him, your thigh touching his. "How's school been?"

"Fine, not the same since you left though." He chuckled.

"Sorry I, uh--" He looks at you. "I had my reasons." You nod, knowing full well what those reasons were.

"It's okay, you don't have to explain." You give him a toothless smile. "So, what's up?" You ask, as if you didn't have things to say to him yourself. He slowly tilts his head to look at you, lips slightly parted before speaking. His eyes tell you everything you need to know. He missed you. And you missed him too.

"I'm just going to come out and say it." He says softly. "I miss you, Y/N. I-I can't keep going on like this, you know? Without you. You're not gonna be the one that gets away. I refuse to tell that story in the long run because you matter too much to me." He sighs. "I love you, and I'm here for you. I want to do this with you, and I know we didn't exactly have that fairytale meeting or whatever that even fucking means Jin, get it together." He shakes his head at his own words, causing you to softly chuckle to yourself. "But I'm always going to be by your side, and I'll never give up on you, or us. My past actions haven't exactly said that but I'm sure about you, about this. More than I've ever been before." He grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "Please let me love you." You don't even know what to say, or, I guess it's just that Jin has said all the right things. Everything that needed to be said. You didn't need to say anything else.

So, you silently cup his cheek and bring his face to yours, planting a soft kiss on his plump lips before pulling back to look at him. He smiles, his hand is now holding onto yours, his thumb rubbing the top of your hand. He leans in for another kiss, his lips slowly parting from yours when he pulls away.

"Sooooo is that a yes?" He breaks the silence, causing you to giggle and fall back onto the couch.

"Yeah, it is."

"Okay." He smiles, the dimples from underneath his eyes poking out. "In that case, will you also allow me to cater to you today?"

"Hm, what does that involve, Seokjin?"

"Come with me, you'll see."

"Okay." You respond softly with a smile. Jin sits silently, watching the TV while you clean up a bit and grab a few things before heading out. The car ride is silent, and you realize Jin is taking you back to his place.

It definitely feels a little weird and different being here, now that you don't see Grace's car in the driveway, nor do you see any pictures of the two or anything that signals Grace in general. You follow Jin into his room, setting your things off to the side as he takes off his jacket. He comes to you, cupping your face in his hands before placing a kiss on your lips.

"Come, I wanna cook something for you." He nods you to follow him to the kitchen. You sit at the island, watching him prep his ingredients together and begin to prepare whatever dish he had in mind. He had began to update you on the past couple of weeks, which wasn't much, but he still figured he'd tell you how work was going, or how his friends were doing. Namjoon being completely caught up with Ryujin.

You continued to watch how delicate he was, cooking a meal for the both of you. He pulled out two tupperwares and a few smaller ones, slipping the freshly cooked meal into the bigger containers before getting a few snacks into the small containers. You furrowed your brows, wondering what in the hell he was doing, and why you couldn't just eat here.

"What are you doing?" You chuckled.

"We're not eating here." He looked at you before fixing the food into the containers.

"Where are we eating then?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Jin."

"Y/N?" He says, his brow slightly raised. "Just relax. I think you'll enjoy it." You nod silently as he packs them into a canvas reusable bag that he pulls off of the hook on his wall. He removes his apron and hangs it onto a free hook before putting his jacket on again. "You want another jacket?"

"Will I freeze to death in this outfit?" You stand and he looks at you up and down. Granted, the sun was out and it was a nice day out. You just threw on some grey-ish Gymshark leggings and its matching sports bra under a cream-colored puffer jacket.

"Ummmm." He says continuing to eye you up and down. God, he wanted you.

"Earth to Jin?" You cross your arms and tilt your head, making him snap out of it with a chuckle.

"No, you should be fine. I'll make sure it's warm enough for you."

"You're too much."

"Sorry, you just look really good in those leggings."

"Uh huh." You playfully roll your eyes and grab the canvas bag from his hand. He leads the way to his Audi SUV, opening your door before situating himself into the driver's seat. The sun was slowly setting, and Jin took you over the bridge and into San Francisco. Except not, because his car continued to drive off towards the Peninsula. He took the exit towards Pacifica and it suddenly clicked in your head - he was taking you to the beach to eat. In this weather though? You hoped not. He said you'd be fine in your outfit, but you were starting to think he planned it all along just because he liked how good you looked. But, you sat silently, letting him take you to the final destination. The sky was now filled with dark orange hues, one side of the sky quickly darkening before the other. He turns onto a road, about three houses lining the road way before there's a patch of dirt and a car or two parked facing towards the water in front of you. The cars were pretty spaced out, Jin finding his own spot to park into - the only thing blocking the car from the heavy waves in front of you was a flimsy, rusty railing and a small stone wall. He gets out and immediately pops the trunk open, laying his back seats down and spreading out a few blankets he had hidden in the trunk before calling you over.

"Come join me." You hop out and sit next to him, tucking yourselves away in the opened trunk, watching the waters roll in and crash against the wall.

"Oh shit, this is beautiful." You say. You never knew of this spot, and it was isolated from the main beach itself. It was nice to have some privacy, but also get this front row view of the water.

"Isn't it?" He wraps another blanket around your shoulders for you to snuggle into before laying out the food in front of you both. The sun is about to sink into the horizon as you quietly start to dig into the food, thanking Jin in between chewing for the amazing dinner he had prepared for you two. He uncapped a bottle of wine, mainly for your enjoyment, pouring it into a fancy plastic cup. He pressed his back against the side of the trunk, allowing you to crawl in between his legs and get comfortable while you sipped on the wine and picked at the grapes he brought. He leaned his head back, his arms wrapped around your neck, holding you tightly as you both watched and listened to the waves.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For all of this."

"It's no biggie." He says softly, your temple resting against his jaw. "I don't think you'll ever understand how much you mean to me. You make me feel complete." He turns to place a kiss against it, causing you to sink deeper into his body. For a moment, you both are just still. In peace. Listening to the waters ahead. Your hands rest on his arms, caressing it gently with your thumb before turning to look at him. "Hm?"

"Nothing." You smirk.

"That's not nothing."

"I just wanna show you how much I appreciate you and all of this."

"Oh, yeah?" He chuckles as he watches you stir in your position to fully face him. You're on your knees, keeping yourself steady as you lean in to kiss him. He deepens the kiss, his hand tugging your jacket to keep you close. You straddle him in his position, gripping his chin with your hand. "Fuck, I missed you." He says breathily before your tongue licks his entire bottom lip, causing him to tilt his head back and hiss.

"Wanna close this up?" You nod towards the trunk, causing you to giggle when he quickly shuts the door with his car remote and wraps his arms around you to lay you down gently. He takes off your jacket, tossing it aside in the front seat before softly kissing your neck and nipping on the surface of your skin. You feel his tongue swipe up your neck before he plants a kiss on your jaw, then back up to your lips. He aggressively lifts up your bra, exposing your breasts for him to play and suck on. He grips them as he sinks his mouth lower onto your nipple, sucking and letting his tongue explore on your bud. "Ohhhhhh." You mewl as he lets go with a pop, moving onto your other nipple, his hands now starting to pull your leggings down.

He begins to make his way down, leaving kisses on your stomach, abdomen, inner thighs, then your clothed clit. You slightly hiss at the feeling, causing you to wiggle a bit underneath him, signaling that you want more. He doesn't argue, or tease, and instead immediately pulls your soaked panties off, allowing his tongue to freely explore down your folds and push in and out of your entrance. "Jin." You moan as he's now sucking gently on your clit, two digits pumping in and out of you. "Fuuuuck, Jin. Stopppp." You whine. "I'm gonna cum."

"Why would I stop?" He says in between sucking your clit. The more he's pumping his fingers in and out of you, the more you feel yourself unraveling. It's not long before you're trembling under his arm, almost squeezing Jin's head in between your thighs as he continues to suck on your clit slowly while you ride out your high. Once you've been able to regulate your breathing, you watch as he undoes his belt and slightly pulls his pants down just enough to let his hardened member spring free. He spits onto his hand and pumps himself a few times while you've taken the initiative to suck on the two fingers he used to help make you cum the first time. He groans at the sight, wasting no time to line his tip with your entrance.

His body is lowered onto yours, your heels planted steadily as your hands explore up his back and inside of his shirt. He leans down to kiss you as he's inserting himself slowly, your moans being captured by the kiss. When he bottoms out, he begins to roll his hips into you, your kisses becoming messy and wet. Your hands are getting tangled in his hair, gently gripping the strands as he works his way with you, careful not to shake the car too much.

Either way, he feels fucking good. You feel fucking food. He fills you up so well and you're sure he'd make you cum any second with the way he's rolling into you. The moment is sensual, and full of passion. He's holding you closely as you with him, the crashes of the waves still echoing in the car even though the trunk is fully closed.

"Jin, please." You whimper, causing him to let out a small moan.

"God, I'm not gonna last if you keep doing that." He says, your hips now working against his.

"Fuuuuuuck!" You cry, your nails digging into his back, causing him to slightly groan and pick up his pace just a bit - he still manages to fuck you slowly and deeply, his tip hitting your core every second. "I'm gonna cum. Cum with me."

"Cum, baby." He nods, his hips slightly moving at a faster pace. Just as the waves crash against the wall, you feel yourself hurdling over the edge for the second time. It hits you so hard that you aren't able to make any noise, except let your body tremble and your face make the expression for you as your eyes roll back and your hands grip onto his hair and shoulder. The look sends him over, especially with your walls constricting tightly around him. He groans into your neck, thrusting hard but slowly just to let you both ride out the last of the high. He stays there for a minute before he's slowly raising his head and brushing the hair out of your face. The windows are all fogged up and it suddenly feels like that one scene from Titanic. "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you, too."

And in this moment, this is when you felt completely still. At peace. Like you could finally breathe. You rested your head against Jin's chest, listening to his heartbeat in one ear and the waves through the other, closing your eyes to take in this entire moment.

Let yourself live, and be happy.

80 notes · View notes

howtosingit · 5 years ago

Text

Fic: I Wanna Be Somebody to Someone (Someone to You)

“Is that heart for someone special?” a voice teases in his ear, and Carlos immediately straightens, his face on fire. In his rush, his stylus cuts through the liquid, splashing coffee onto the counter and effectively ruining his work.

“N-no,” Carlos stutters out nervously, reaching for the towel next to him to clean up his mess. “I was just practicing,” he continues, his voice thin as his flush deepens, a heat crawling up the back of his neck.

A soft laugh next to him pulls his attention towards Grace, his assistant manager, standing at his side, her face even with his shoulder as she smiles up at him. “You’ve been practicing hearts for months, Carlos,” she says, her eyes bright as she points down at the cup in front of them. “I think you’ve got the hang of it by now.”

A High School/Coffee Shop AU.

19.5K | Also posted on AO3 (in 4 easier-to-read chapters)

🎁 For @bellakitse 🎁

A/N: So, I already dipped my toes into the High School/Coffee Shop AU world during 30 Days of Tarlos, but that was just a short little thing, and I knew that I wanted to revisit the combination again at some point. Besides, a little birdie told me that High School AUs and Coffee Shop AUs were her favorites, so there was no other gift that I wanted to give her on her birthday than her two favorite tropes featuring our two favorite boys.

Stef, you are a wonder to this fandom. Your constant kindness and support mean the world, as does your abundant positivity. You have given us some of the most delightful, touching, beautiful fics to get lost in, featuring the absolute best original characters, all while keeping our boys true to who they are and showing how deeply they love one another. Every time that I sit down to write, I do so with the hope that I can create just a small fraction of what you have given us with all of your work. I love you dearly, and I am so very proud to call you my friend.

Happy Birthday, Punk! ❤️

☕☕☕☕

Carlos focuses on the latte in front of him, his brow furrowed as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, gently gliding his stylus through the white foam to shape his design. He can hear the soft hum of the coffee shop around him, the late-afternoon crowd deep in conversation at their various tables. He bends at the waist to press his elbows to the counter, bringing his face closer to his canvas to watch as the mental image in his mind begins to form inside the cup in front of him.

A soft laugh next to him pulls his attention towards Grace, his best friend and assistant manager, standing at his side, her face even with his shoulder as she smiles up at him. “You’ve been practicing hearts for months, Carlos,” she says, her eyes bright as she points down at the cup in front of them. “I think you’ve got the hang of it by now.”

Carlos doesn’t answer her, his pounding heart pushing up into his throat. Grace, proving that she knows him pretty well after all their time working together, must sense his mounting terror; her face softens as she brings a hand up to grip his shoulder gently. “You can only practice so much before your own heart forces you to act,” she says soothingly. “Once it knows what it wants, there’s no stopping it forever.”

Before Carlos can respond, there’s a rap of knuckles on the counter. He jumps, looking up to find Grace’s boyfriend, Judd, suddenly standing before them, a slight smirk on his face.

“Reyes, she feeding you my lines again?” he jokes, turning to grin at his girlfriend. Carlos looks over in time to spot Grace’s arched eyebrows rise to her forehead.

“What do you mean by ‘your lines,’ cowboy?” she fires back at him, crossing her hands in front of her chest. Carlos can’t help the small grin that takes over his face as he looks between the two of them, his own concerns momentarily forgotten as he watches them banter back and forth.

“Oh, don’t play that game with me, Grace,” Judd scoffs, shaking his head. “You know that I told you ‘the heart wants what it wants’ the very first time I met you.”

“Judson Ryder,” Grace starts, moving closer to the counter as she zeroes in on the man standing on the other side, “don’t stand there and act like you were the first person to ever come up with that line, people have been using that cliché since well before you were born.”

There’s a moment where they just stare at one another, a slight tension in the air, before Judd breaks it with a sheepish laugh. “Alright, alright,” he says, closing the distance between them to press a short kiss to Grace’s lips. “Still, it worked on you though, right?”

Grace just smiles, moving her hand to cover Judd’s resting on the counter. “That’s right,” she confirms. “There’s nothing wrong with using a cliché when the time is right, which is why I don’t mind throwing it in Carlos’s face now.”

Carlos starts at the mention of his name as both Grace and Judd look towards him. He’d been so wrapped up in their flirting that he had forgotten that this entire ridiculous conversation started with him. He can feel his face burning again as he gapes at them, no idea how to respond.

The bell on the door rings behind him, signaling a new customer, and Grace moves around him to take their order, patting his arm in support as she goes. Carlos’s heart thumps annoyingly in his chest, and he ducks his head to avoid Judd’s eyes, hoping the other man will just let the conversation end. With a small cough, it becomes clear that his friend has no intention of doing that at all.

“She’s right, you know,” Judd says quietly, giving him a supportive look. “Your feelings will eat you alive if you don’t let them out.”

Carlos stares down at the latte before him, the foam nearly gone now that it’s cold. He thinks about the heart that he was working on, and the hundreds that he’s made before. It makes him feel pathetic, this stupid never-ending crush of his, and with a groan he grabs the cup and moves towards the sink to dump out the coffee.

“Hey, Reyes, talk to me,” Judd encourages, and Carlos looks up to see that he’s shifted to lean over the taller bar, closer now. “You know I’ll tell it to you straight.”

Carlos does know that. He’s known Grace and Judd for almost two years, ever since his first day working at Carolina's Café. Back then, they were all high school students, working together most afternoons and evenings. Now, Judd is finishing up his fire academy training and Grace is taking college courses, while Carlos slogs through his senior year; he had been worried that their friendship would change once the two of them graduated, but even with Grace being promoted to assistant manager, nothing between them has shifted. They’re still Carlos’s best friends, and he loves both of them like they’re family, which is why he knows he’s going to give in to Judd’s nudging.

With a sigh, Carlos reaches up to rub his forehead, feeling overwhelmed by this unexpected deep dive into his feelings. “I feel like such an idiot,” he admits, his voice small.

There’s a silence after his confession, and Carlos avoids looking at his friend until he can’t bear it any longer. Judd stares back at him, his brows furrowed in concern. “Yeah,” he finally says, nodding his head a bit, “love will do that to you, brother.

“You don’t think I felt like a big dumbass every single time I thought about asking Grace out?” he asks, his eyes shifting over to where Carlos knows Grace is standing behind him at the register. “I felt like I was going to go crazy for months,” Judd continues, turning back to him with a sympathetic look. “Love has this way of making you feel really small when you’re in it alone.”

Carlos crosses his arms over his chest, trying not to react at the idea that he might be in love with someone that he can’t even ask out on a date. “But, when you’re in it with someone else,” Judd finishes, reaching over to grip Carlos’s shoulder, making sure he’s completely focused on him, “love makes you feel like you’re bigger than everything.”

He can feel his heart swell at that thought; it’s the one thing he wants so desperately. For a long time, while struggling to figure out who he was and what he wanted, Carlos didn’t think he would get a chance to have that kind of love, at least not until he was much older. He still remembers the day that he felt those odds shift; it was the same day that a new transfer student from New York barged into his life and turned his entire world upside down with just a flash of his green eyes and bright smile.

“Judd, you’re gonna be late,” Grace says, appearing at his side and pulling Carlos from one of his favorite memories. She hands her boyfriend a wrapped sandwich and a cup of coffee before leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. Judd quickly waves goodbye as he moves towards the door, off to his overnight shift. “He’s right you know,” Grace continues, nudging him gently until he looks down at her. “Bigger than the whole world,” she clarifies, giving him a small smile.

Carlos sighs again, his mind racing at the idea of feeling something so real and powerful. “I really want that someday,” he whispers, confessing his most personal desire.

“I think ‘someday’ might be a lot closer than you think, Carlos, but only if you stop running away from it,” Grace hedges, the serious look on her face softened by her sparkling dark brown eyes. Carlos can’t help but to wrap his arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

“Incoming!” a new voice says, and Carlos looks around in time to pull both of them out of the way as Mateo, their busboy, comes barreling through with a tub full of dirty dishes. “Also, don’t look now, Reyes, but your dream boy just arrived,” he teases, shooting Carlos a smirk as he moves through to the kitchen.

Carlos freezes at the sound of the bell, his arm still draped over Grace’s shoulder. He can’t help it when his gaze automatically shifts over to the entrance, his heart racing as his eyes lock on to the stunning green pair belonging to the one person he can never get out of his head, no matter how hard he tries.

TK Strand.

☕☕☕☕

Carolina’s Café is definitely TK’s favorite place in Texas, possibly the world.

When his dad first moved them to Austin the summer before his junior year, TK had hated every single thing about the city. All of his friends, his boyfriend, everything that he had ever known, he was forced to leave behind in New York. He was fully prepared to shut himself away until school started, where he would go through the motions for two years before moving back to the city. And then, almost as if fate demanded a change of perspective, he found a safe haven.

His second week in Texas, he stumbled across the small, intimate cafe and immediately knew that he had found his sanctuary. It was one of those places that looked smaller on the outside, but once he stepped through the door he realized that it seemed to stretch for miles, full of hidden depths that TK couldn’t wait to discover. Mismatched, colorful chairs and tables filled the long galley-like space, with comfy couches and armchairs set-up in a few corners to create intimate gathering places. Lamps were scattered throughout the space, giving the room a soft glow, and a single chandelier hung down from the high ceiling. During the day, natural light poured in from the high windows at the front of the shop to illuminate the various activities within, but at night, the glittering lights from the fixture above and the tea lights on the tables created a warm, comforting atmosphere that felt like home. From that very first day, when he spent almost five uninterrupted hours inside the cafe’s walls, TK recognized that it was going to be the saving grace he needed in his new home.

He steps through the door now, letting the familiar smell of coffee and baked goods assault his senses, the soft hum of music, conversation, and grinding from behind the counter rolling over him in waves. As they always do, his eyes immediately move towards the barista station, his breath catching in his chest as he spots his absolute favorite fixture of Carolina’s Café.

Carlos Reyes.

When he allows himself to really think about it, usually late at night when he’s falling asleep, TK knows that this cafe is so special to him because it gave him Carlos. Sure, he would’ve met the other guy when school started, but for TK, meeting the barista during his first weeks in Austin is what allowed him to let go of a lot of his personal biases against the city. They formed a special bond in that first month over small conversations across the counter. Carlos was one of the first people that made him genuinely smile since he found out about the move, and he was responsible for most of his smiles in the weeks that followed. TK struggled for a time with the why of it all, but at the end of the day, he was just happy to find a friendly source of comfort in a somewhat foreign world.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by a firm hand on his shoulder, guiding him away from the door and further into the coffee shop. There’s a huff of laughter behind him, and he turns to find Paul and Marjan sharing a look. “What?” he asks, squinting at his friends.

“Do we have to do the whole ‘time stands still, eyes lock’ moment every single time we come here?” Marjan smirks, shifting her gaze towards the counter. TK feels a heat rise on his cheeks as his mouth drops open at her bold claim.

“She’s right,” Paul teases, raising his brow as his eyes twinkle with mirth. “It was cute the first ten times, now it’s just tired and boring. You should change it up, maybe add a kiss or something.”

TK shakes his head, his mind racing with what to say in response. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lies, his voice coming out thin as his heartbeat speeds up at the thought of a kiss. It’s something he’s definitely considered before, usually when he’s alone in his room with his eyes closed and his hand hard at work.

“Yeah, sure you don’t,” Marjan huffs, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, brainless,” Paul continues, pointing towards their usual couch in the back corner. “Why don’t you give it some thought while you hold our table? I’ll go order your drink. I wouldn’t want you to have to possibly interact with someone.” His smirk is obvious now, and it only serves to make TK’s blush spread; he can now feel heat on the tips of his ears, and he knows he probably looks completely ridiculous.

Without a word, he moves through the cafe towards their spot near the back, quickly glancing over towards the barista station again, watching as Grace pats Carlos on the chest, the other man nodding softly in response to whatever she’s telling him. TK notices how his face is lined with worry, and he wonders what has Carlos so stressed.

As he drops his bag next to the coffee table, collapsing onto the empty couch, he thinks back to the start of his junior year, when his relationship with Carlos shifted to the current standstill that they can’t seem to escape.

After that first summer, TK had looked forward to starting school, partly because it would keep him busy and take his mind off New York and everyone he was missing there, but mostly because he would get to see Carlos somewhere other than the cafe. He was excited about the possibility of getting to know his classmate outside of work, without their barista/customer labels and a counter between them.

Those first weeks were promising; they had a few classes together, and TK still spent two or three afternoons a week studying at the cafe. He bonded with Marjan and Paul pretty quickly, and it seemed like Carlos would fit pretty seamlessly into their new friend group. The four of them shared a lab table together in science, and though Carlos was definitely the quiet one, it felt comfortable. But then, TK made the mistake of inviting his boyfriend to Homecoming, and wherever their friendship seemed to be heading quickly became a fantasy.

TK sighs at the memory of that terrible weekend, looking back towards the counter to see Carlos filling a few orders, his head down as he focuses on the multiple drinks in front of him. He’s always admired the other man’s ability to lose himself in the simple task of making lattes and cappuccinos, remembering how he was drawn to Carlos’s careful and delicate actions the very first time TK met him.

He palms start to sweat as he watches how Carlos’s muscular torso strains against his tight-fitting t-shirt when he twists around to grab things from the counter behind him. TK would never be able to pinpoint what exactly draws him to the other guy; for him, it’s a combination of every single part of Carlos that makes him worthy of TK’s affection. He’s truly never felt this way about anyone else in his life.

“You’re staring again,” a voice says, interrupting his lovelorn thoughts. TK looks up to see Marjan standing at his side, two cups in her hands. She passes one over to him, which he takes with a grateful smile, before sitting next to him on the couch. “I don’t know why you do this to yourself, TK.”

He stays silent, sipping his mocha latte, and pretends that he doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Marjan, never one to let things just go, doesn’t play into his game. “What’s stopping you from asking him out, Strand?” she hedges, sitting her cup down on the table in front of them before shifting to look at him, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

TK puts his own mug down, running his hands through his hair as he processes her truly overwhelming question. “I don’t think he thinks of me like that,” he finally answers, staring down at his feet as he hunches over to avoid looking at her.

“Well that’s bullshit,” Paul says out of nowhere, and TK looks up to find that he’s joined him. “You act like you’ve never seen the way Reyes looks at you.”

TK flushes for the second time since they’ve arrived. He knows that sometimes he’ll look up to find Carlos looking in his direction during class or while he’s studying, but the other guy always immediately looks away when he spots him. He doesn’t want to read into those moments, or try to make sense of them; he’s too afraid of what they might mean.

“Guys, we’re barely even friends,” he starts, picking at his fingers. “I thought at one point we could be, but then…”

He trails off, biting his lip. He can almost sense the way Marjan and Paul share a look, and he knows what they’re about to say before they even make a sound.

“TK, Homecoming was a long time ago,” Marjan starts, her voice gentle. “You’ve gotta stop feeling guilty about that.”

“Yeah, besides,” Paul continues, taking a sip of his own coffee, “we forgave you for that, and I’m pretty sure Carlos did, too.”

TK doesn’t respond; he hears what his friends are saying, but his brain can’t help but remind him how, after that weekend, Carlos was a little distant. It wasn’t in a mean or rude way, but TK could tell that his classmate became a little more guarded around him. Since then, they’ve shared more classes and even worked together on a few group assignments, and Carlos is friendly and kind every single time, but he and TK are very much just two peers. No matter how much he wishes they could be more, he can’t go back and erase that weekend where Alex visited from New York.

“Can we talk about something else?” he begs, reaching down to pull his textbook from his bag. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Paul and Marjan share yet another look before they too reach for their homework. There are a few minutes of silence as they all settle in, before Marjan breaks it, staring down at her phone.

“Looks like Iris is having another party this Friday,” she shares, typing a response to someone. “Wanna go?”

“Might as well,” Paul shrugs, staring down at his own phone.

“Sure,” TK says, shooting a smirk over to Paul. “You know Vanessa’s probably going to be there.”

“Nope, nuh-uh,” Paul says, shaking his head as he points a finger at TK. “If we don’t get to talk about your love life, we’re certainly not talking about mine.”

TK grins down at his book, thinking about the girl in their class that Paul has been hooking up with for months. Before he can form a reply, someone approaches their corner.

“I thought you guys would probably want some water,” Mateo says, balancing a tray of three glasses of ice water in front of him. TK can’t help but to notice how the sophomore’s gaze shifts to Marjan, who is still staring down at her phone. He bites the inside of his cheek to hide his grin as he moves his book to the side.

“Thanks, Mateo,” he says, pushing forward on the couch to take another sip of his latte. Mateo just nods, placing the first cup down on the table.

Finally realizing that someone has joined them, Marjan looks up to assess the situation, a smile appearing on her face when she sees what Mateo has brought them. “Aww, thanks Mateo, that’s really sweet of you.”

TK watches, almost in slow-motion, as Mateo reacts to his friend speaking directly to him, his grip on the tray unsteady as he looks Marjan’s way, his eyes wide. Before he can make a move to help, the remaining two glasses tip off the side, a shower of icy water splashing TK in the face and down the front of his shirt from where he was leaning forward over the table.

“Oh, shit,” Mateo yells, immediately reaching for the towel on his hip as TK stands, water dripping from his hair. He brushes it back from his face, a shiver running through him at the sudden cold. “I’m so sorry, TK.”

“Mateo, don’t worry about it,” TK says lightly, pushing the boy’s helpful hands away. “It’s just water, it’s not a big deal.”

The busboy’s face still looks terrified, so TK circles the table to grip his arm in reassurance. “Seriously, dude, it was a simple mistake, it’s totally okay. I’ll just go dry off in the bathroom.”

Mateo nods, guilt clear on his face as he turns back towards the table, where the remaining water has pooled. TK turns away, moving quickly towards the restroom. He pushes the door open, noting that it’s empty, and crosses over to the mirror, taking in how the entire front of his shirt is soaked with water, the fabric sticking to his skin. With a resigned sigh, he pulls it off over his head, turning to the hand dryer. It might take awhile, but he’s sure he can dry it enough to wear it home.

He’s just started when he hears the door open behind him. “Sorry, there was a spill,” he begins, not wanting to freak the newcomer out by standing in the bathroom shirtless. He turns to show them his soaked shirt, and freezes when he sees who it is.

Carlos stands just inside the door, which continues to close slowly behind him. TK feels a heavy thump in his chest as his crush looks silently back at him, Carlos’s mouth open slightly in shock. He watches as the other man’s eyes briefly trail down to his bare chest, lingering there for a moment. TK realizes how much he likes having those soft brown eyes on him, enjoying the flush that rises on his skin as Carlos continues to stare at him so openly. It sends a chill down his spine that has nothing to do with the spilled drinks.

He hears himself let out a breath of air, a sound that pulls Carlos from his daze. TK watches as he rapidly blinks, his eyes moving to look anywhere but directly at him or his bare chest. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” Carlos finally speaks, and TK can’t help to notice how the words come out breathy, almost like Carlos is having a hard time taking in enough air. “I thought you might need this.”

He holds out a green t-shirt, his eyes now firmly locked on a point just above TK’s left ear. TK takes a moment to process the offer, his brain running through a myriad of thoughts, all of them doing nothing to help lessen his ever-present crush, before he reaches out to take the shirt. His fingers just barely brush Carlos’s during the exchange, and TK feels a tingle at the point of contact, watching as his classmate looks down at his own hand in surprise before catching TK’s eye again. He looks a little terrified, and TK wants nothing more than to just reach out and comfort him.

“I promise it’s clean,” Carlos continues, gesturing to the shirt now in TK’s hand. “I always keep a spare one here, just in case.” He grimaces in sympathy, and TK nearly melts at the way his forehead crease grows more intense at the action.

“Thanks,” he finally responds, his voice thin as he does everything in his power not to throw himself at Carlos, his feelings reaching a thrilling new peak. “I really appreciate it.”

Carlos smiles softly, his eyes glinting even in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. “I’ll leave you to it,” he says, nodding slightly as he turns to open the door and head back out to the shop.

Alone once again, TK lets out a giant breath, trying to calm the emotions swirling around inside of him. He looks down at the shirt in his hands, his fingers running over the soft cotton. Before he can second-guess himself, he brings it up to his nose and inhales deeply. There’s an unmistakable smell of coffee, but there’s also another scent, probably laundry detergent, and his heart races as he comes to that realization. He feels like he just learned something about Carlos that he never knew before, and it makes him absolutely giddy.

Shaking his head at his own ridiculousness, he pulls the t-shirt on over his now dry torso, noticing how loose it fits him in comparison to the way Carlos’s shirts fit snugly on his own broad body. TK pulls slightly at the fabric, his heart hammering in his chest at the sudden desire to have Carlos pressed up against him, skin against skin, with no space to tell where he ends and Carlos begins. He groans at the thought.

When it comes to Carlos Reyes, TK is in way over his head.

☕☕☕☕

Carlos doesn’t really know why he’s here.

When Paul and Marjan cornered him at the cafe while TK was finishing up in the restroom to tell him about Iris’s party, he had immediately rejected their invitation, citing a shift at work. But then, of course, Grace had asked him about it, and when he told her that he wasn’t going, she spent the rest of their shift convincing him that a party was exactly what he needed.

“You only have a few months left of high school,” she had said, hands on her hips as she looked up at him, “and you’ve never been to a party. If you don’t go, you might regret not having that experience at least once.”

When he remained unconvinced, his best friend pulled out her assistant manager trump card, taking him off the conflicting shift and putting herself on for Friday night instead. “I’m not saying you have to go, I just want you to keep your options open,” she had smirked, nudging him gently as she moved away to restock the counter.

So, Carlos now finds himself standing in front of the Blake house, hands in his pockets, wondering if he can just turn around and go back home. He feels uncomfortable in his own skin, hearing music and sounds from the backyard. It’s not that he’s an antisocial person, just that he’s always felt more comfortable in small-group settings. When there are too many people around, he gets too overwhelmed by everyone’s constant need for attention and chooses to just fade into the background to avoid it entirely.

Carlos shakes himself, trying to calm down. He knows that Grace is right; he turns 18 in three months, and he’s never done something like this, but he’s always been curious about what happens at house parties. He’s going to try to make the most of it, and he knows that if he doesn’t like it, he can leave at any time. With a deep breath, he clenches his jaw, moving up the path to the front door.

Inside, the Blake house is pretty spacious, with less people than Carlos was expecting. Everyone is spread out, mingling in small groups. There’s music playing, but it’s not blasting throughout the house like teen movies have made him believe it would be; instead it’s mostly contained to the living room to his right, where space has been cleared for people to dance. Carlos steps further into the entryway, hands still in his pockets, bottom lip pressed nervously between his teeth as he tries to figure out what to do next.

“Reyes!” he hears behind him, and he turns to see Paul approaching him, a beer bottle in his hand and a bright smile on his face. Before Carlos can speak, he’s being pulled into a hug, the shorter man wrapping his strong arms around him in a steady embrace. A grin pulls at his lips, humored by Paul’s relaxed state, and he brings his arms up to grip the other guy tightly. Carlos feels some of the tension seep out at the comforting gesture.

“Hi, Paul,” he says when they pull apart, glancing around them. “This is way more chill than I thought it would be.”

“Yeah, it’s not too bad yet,” Paul responds, taking a sip of his beer. “There’s usually a few people who go a little wild later in the evening, but it doesn’t take too much to get them under control. Is this your first party?” he asks, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise.

Carlos nods sheepishly, looking down at his feet as his hands return to his pockets.

“Don’t look so worried,” Paul says, gripping his arm gently. “You’ll be fine. Come on, I know someone who’s going to freak when he sees you.” He keeps a hand on Carlos’s shoulder as he guides him through the house towards the backyard.

Carlos feels his heart race at Paul’s statement, a hope flaring in his chest as he considers who Paul might be talking about. He knows who he wants it to be, but he’s been disappointed before, and he decides not to throw himself into that situation again. It’s easier if he just lets things happen, without unrealistic expectations.

They pass the kitchen, Carlos noticing how the large island is covered in a wide variety of bottles and mixers. He feels his palms start to sweat again, hoping it won’t be a big deal to anyone that he’s not a big drinker.

Paul leads him through the open patio door, and Carlos takes in the large pool where numerous people are swimming and tossing around beach balls. He even spots a couple making out in a corner, tightly wrapped around each other, and though Carlos has never been a fan of that kind of PDA, he can’t help the way his heart yearns for a similar moment with a certain brown-haired someone.

His eyes immediately zero in on said person as Paul steers him off to a corner of the backyard. TK’s back is to them, and Carlos can tell that he’s currently in the middle of a conversation with Marjan, his hands gesturing wildly as he speaks. Carlos smiles at the sight; he’s fondly watched TK hold court the same way from behind the counter at the cafe, and it’s never not endearing.

“Strand,” Paul speaks up at his side, causing Carlos to jump slightly as he’s pulled out of his collection of TK memories. He watches how Marjan spots him first, a smile rising on her face, and then TK is turning towards him, and Carlos feels the breath leave his lungs.

TK has always been beautiful. He has these bright green eyes that Carlos sees every night in his dreams, and a smile that makes his heart ache. He’s always full of boundless energy, some part of his body always on the move, even when he’s trying to sit still and focus, and it makes Carlos want to wrap him in his arms and calm him down so that the man can have a moment of rest. Every single part of him lights a fire inside of Carlos, but he truly doesn’t mind the heat; he would probably let himself burn if it meant that he could have TK at his side.

The point is, TK has always been beautiful, but this is the first time that Carlos can remember being completely stunned at the sight of him. His bright eyes are alight and dancing in the light of the bonfire next to them, his face glowing as he smiles openly, a light blush coloring his cheeks. A sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead and neck, no doubt from the nearby fire and whatever drink he’s holding in his hand. Carlos feels his heart drop down into his stomach, the desire to reach out and touch him reaching a thrilling new high.

“Carlos!” TK says in shock, his eyes wide as he takes him in, his gaze trailing down his body. Carlos awkwardly shifts a bit, feeling the way his tight black jeans drag uncomfortably against his skin. “You’re… I… What are you doing here?” TK asks, blinking rapidly as he struggles to choose his words.

Carlos’s throat tightens at the question, suddenly realizing that TK had no idea he was coming. He turns to look at Paul, who jumps in with a steady hand on his arm. “Marjan and I invited him, when you were drying off in the bathroom the other day.”

TK turns to glare at Marjan, and Carlos feels his heart break in his chest. “I’m sorry,” he starts, his voice wavering in humiliation, “I’ll just go.”

He’s barely taken a step when he feels fingers on his wrist, the grip gentle but still enough to stop him in his tracks. He turns to find TK holding onto him, and Carlos can’t help the way his skin sings at the feeling of them touching for the second time this week.

“Please don’t leave,” TK pleads, his eyes shining as he bites his bottom lip. “Sorry for being an ass, I just wasn’t expecting to see you here.” He takes a breath, his thumb absentmindedly grazing along the vein on the inside of Carlos’s wrist, sending a shiver through him. “But I’m really happy that you came, Carlos.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Carlos sees Marjan and Paul back away, leaving the two of them alone. He locks eyes with TK, seeing the sincerity of his apology, and he nods, a small smile forming on his lips. With deep breath, TK releases his arm, the bright smile returning to his face. “Do you want a drink?” he asks, raising his cup to his lips to take a sip.

“Um, water would be good,” Carlos says, an embarrassed flush crawling up his neck at the request. If TK judges him for it, he doesn’t let it show. He just gives him a small nod, gesturing back towards the house.

TK takes the lead, and Carlos falls slightly behind, his gaze falling to the other man’s hips as he walks them towards the house. Like Carlos, TK is wearing a tight pair of dark jeans, his strong thighs and calves clearly visible under the denim fabric. His eyes trail up TK’s back, noticing how drops of sweat have soaked through his close-fitting striped button-up. Carlos shakes his head, trying to clear away the sudden thought of his tongue pressed against TK’s slick skin; his jeans are way too tight for him to be thinking like that in a public setting.

They enter the kitchen, and Carlos watches silently as TK dumps the rest of his drink into the sink before tossing his cup into the recycling bin. Then, he opens the fridge and pulls out two water bottles, handing one to Carlos with a soft smile.

“Thanks,” he says, taking a long drink. He catches TK staring at his throat before quickly looking away, his fingers tapping nervously against the countertop. “You didn’t have to dump your drink because of me,” Carlos continues, guilt crawling into his gut.

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” TK hurries to say, shaking his head. “I don’t like to drink too much, so I usually switch to water anyway. Alcohol has been known to make me stupid.” He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, a sure sign of anxiety, as Carlos has come to learn during their few interactions.

Carlos nods, his gaze roaming over the room. It’s still not as crazy as he was expecting; sure, there are a lot of people around, but no one’s running around acting stupid and breaking stuff like he imagined.

“This is your first party, isn’t it?” TK asks suddenly, and Carlos feels himself flush.

“Is it that obvious?”

“A little,” TK admits, reaching out to squeeze Carlos’s bicep. “Don’t worry, it’s really cute.”

Carlos stares at him, feeling the way his eyebrows rise up his forehead at TK’s claim.

“Come on, we can go back outside where it’s quieter,” TK suggests, moving back towards the patio door. Carlos follows, his mind trying to keep up with his racing heart.

TK leads him over to an empty porch swing, taking a seat and gesturing for Carlos to join him. Heart pounding in his chest, Carlos moves to sit next to him, sinking into the weather-resistant floral cushion. He can feel heat radiating off of TK, their shoulders only a few inches apart. He opens his mouth to break the awkward silence between them, but the words get caught in his throat, so instead he takes another sip of water to give himself something to do.

“This is awkward, isn’t it?” TK finally says, and Carlos watches as he drums his fingers nervously against his leg.

“Sorry, I’m just a little overwhelmed,” Carlos gets out, rolling his eyes at how stupid he feels.

“Okay,” TK says, the word dragging out a bit. He shifts his position on the swing, pulling one leg up as he turns to face Carlos. “I feel like we’re thinking too much, so maybe we should just say the first thing that pops into our heads, and see where that goes,” he suggests, a somewhat desperate look taking over his face.

Carlos nods, shifting his own position to mirror TK. He stares at him for a moment, taking advantage of having him this close to drink him in. Then, before he can stop himself, he’s voicing a thought that has been running around in his brain since they last saw each other at the cafe.

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo.”

TK freezes for a moment, his surprise clear on his face, before letting out a bright, short laugh, running his hand through his hair as his smile widens.

“Right, you saw that,” he confirms, and Carlos knows that TK’s thinking back to their moment in the bathroom; it’s a moment that Carlos can’t get out of his head, no matter how hard he tries. It feels like TK’s bare chest has been branded on the inside of his eyelids.

“It’s a Maltese Cross, isn’t it?” Carlos questions, knowing that he’s probably giving away more about his Internet search history than he probably should, but if TK got a tattoo of it, it’s probably pretty important to him, and he wants to hear him talk about it.

“Yeah,” TK says, and Carlos watches him hesitate for only a moment before he’s reaching down to undo the top two buttons of his shirt. Carlos holds his breath, his hands clenching into fists as TK’s pale, smooth skin is uncovered in front of him for the second time this week. TK pulls the now loose fabric to the side, and Carlos can see the tattoo clearly now, the black ink boldly displayed on the perfect canvas of his chest. Now that he’s been given permission to look closely, he notices the words “FIRE” and “RESCUE,” as well as a ladder, hydrant, and helmet. “I got it a few months ago for my 18th birthday,” TK explains.

“It’s for your dad, right?” Carlos asks, glancing up at TK as he remembers one of their earliest conversations at the coffee shop.

“Um, yeah,” TK says, looking down at his chest. “And for me, too. I’m joining the fire academy in the fall.”

Carlos can’t help it when he lets out a huff of surprise at that information. “No way, really?” he asks, his brain already conjuring up a number of images featuring TK in turnout gear and a helmet. He shifts slightly, trying to ignore the discomfort in his jeans.

“Yeah, it’s kind of all that I’ve ever wanted to do,” he explains, twisting his fingers together in his lap. “My dad has always been my biggest hero, and I just want to do what he does. You know, help people, make a difference...”

He trails off, and Carlos swears that he melts a little bit at his words, the affection that he already feels for TK settling in his chest, taking hold of his heart. The sudden shift causes him to panic a little, the terror that this is more than just a crush nearly incapacitating him. He shakes his head, trying to be calm; he doesn’t need to freak TK out.

“My dad was my hero, too,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “He was a police officer, and I think he really did want to help people like us, to give them someone to rely on.”

“What happened?” TK whispers, his body still for what might be the first time in Carlos’s memory.

“He died when I was six,” he answers, looking up at TK with a sad smile. “High-speed auto accident while on-duty. For the longest time, I wanted to be just like him, pick up his mantle or whatever, but the older I get, the less sure I am about following his path.”

TK nods, clearly understanding what Carlos means. “So what is the post-graduation plan, then?” he asks, and Carlos hears genuine curiosity in his tone.

“I got accepted to TSU’s criminal justice program,” he reveals, gesturing vaguely. “I think I’m just hoping that the right path will be revealed to me if I take the right classes and learn enough about the system, but I don’t know...”

“You’re just looking for the best way to help people,” TK finishes for him, his gaze softening when Carlos nods. “Well, I think whatever you end up doing, you’ll be really great at it.”

Carlos gapes at him, his heartbeat skipping inside his chest as he struggles to process this night. This is the closest that he’s felt to TK in a really long time, and he’s so beyond happy that Grace convinced him to come.

He’s lost in his thoughts, so unconsciously drawn to the man next to him, that he doesn’t even realize he’s reaching out towards TK until he makes contact with his skin, the pads of his fingers trailing along the black lines peeking out from under his shirt. He freezes, an apology already on his lips as he pulls his hand away, but before he can do so, TK is reaching up to grab his wrist, holding him there.

Time stands still as the feeling of TK’s rapid heartbeat courses through his entire body, lighting up every molecule inside of him. Their eyes lock, each of them hardly breathing, and Carlos honestly feels like he might die right here on this porch swing in Iris Blake’s backyard.

A loud shriek over by the pool sends them both careening back to reality, and Carlos quickly pulls his hand away as he glances around them. For a moment, he had completely forgotten that they were at a party surrounded by so many people, everything else having faded away into nothingness.

He looks back at TK, the other man giving him an odd look, his brows furrowed as he considers him. Carlos opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong, but TK beats him to it.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Carlos feels a heat rise up the back of his neck, his mind rifling through all of the possibilities about what that question could mean. Before he can truly overthink it, he decides to just go with his gut, and hope that it takes him where he desperately wants them to go.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, a fond smile pulling at his lips as TK lets out an obvious sigh of relief.

“Awesome,” he says, jumping to his feet, and Carlos can’t help but laugh at the display of nervous energy; it’s so recognizably TK that it makes his heart swell. “I’m going to go find Marjan or Paul to tell them that we’re leaving. I’ll meet you out front?”

Carlos merely nods, the overwhelming feeling from before returning in full-force. TK smiles at him one more time before darting back into the house to find his friends.

Left alone, Carlos leans forward to run his hands through his curls, letting out a deep breath. He never in a million years thought that this would happen when he showed up to this party, but now he knows that he’ll never regret coming.

This night is already shaping up to be something he’ll never forget.

☕☕☕☕

TK feels like his brain is in overdrive, and his rapidly-beating heart is doing nothing to help calm the hyperactivity inside of him.

Back in the house, he shuts himself inside the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face to try to regain control. He can still feel the heat from Carlos’s fingers on his skin, the memory of his eyes on him sending shocks racing through his body. TK’s glad that he suggested a change of venue; he was this close to closing the distance between them and devouring Carlos in a way-to-dirty-for-public display of pent-up emotion and desire. Staring at his flushed face in the mirror, he’s relieved that he didn’t do that. He wants their first kiss, if they ever get there, to be special; Carlos deserves nothing less.

With a sigh, he runs his fingers through his hair, styling it the way that he likes. He pulls out his phone, shooting a text to his group message with Marjan and Paul to tell them that he and Carlos are leaving early. Marjan immediately texts back three confetti cannon emojis, while Paul’s text comes in a few seconds later. It just reads “about damn time,” and TK rolls his eyes as he slides his phone into his back pocket, his smile widening as he thinks about spending more time alone with Carlos.

This is already the best night of his life.

TK finds him standing on the front sidewalk, hands in his pockets as Carlos looks up at the night sky. He approaches silently, taking this rare opportunity to admire his wider-than-necessary shoulders and backside, his heart racing as he considers the very real possibility of getting to appreciate those features one day. He shakes his head, trying to clear the image from his mind; there’s no point in getting ahead of himself when they haven’t even talked about what’s happening between them.

“Hey,” TK says gently, coming to a stop next to Carlos, who turns and gives him a soft smile.

“Hi.”

There’s a brief moment where they stand there, smiling at one another like there’s nothing else that they would rather be doing on a Friday night. Then, TK breaks the spell.

“Do you want to take a walk?”

Carlos seems a little surprised by the idea, his eyebrows raising slightly, but then he’s nodding, and TK swears that he sees a twinkle in his eye.

“Yeah, I’d love to take a walk with you.”

TK turns to his left, taking the lead, and Carlos quickly falls into step next to him. It’s quiet for a moment as they leave the Blake house behind, the sounds of the party fading away.

“I used to walk all the time back in New York,” TK starts, scrambling for something to say. “That’s probably not shocking, but I was a little disappointed when I found out that Austin is more of a driving city. I like to walk around my neighborhood, but it’s not exactly the same.”

“Do you miss it?” Carlos asks quietly, and TK glances over to find his eyes staring straight ahead. He seems normal, but TK catches the way he’s clenching his jaw just a little more than usual.

“Less and less,” he admits, looking down at his feet. “I think if I went back, New York would feel like a whole other world to me now. My home is here, in Austin.”

“Well, that’s a little surprising,” Carlos huffs, his voice thin. “I remember a time when all you wanted to do was move back to New York, you couldn’t wait to get out of here.”

TK feels his breath catch in his throat. It’s the first time either of them have acknowledged their pre-Homecoming relationship since it fell apart. He feels a new kind of tension between them, one that makes him uneasy. He wonders if this is it, the moment when they put their past out there.

“Do you have a plan for where we’re going?” Carlos asks suddenly as they reach the end of the street, and TK looks over to see him glancing down the road, his bottom lip pressed between his teeth.

“I, um,” TK begins, his nerves making it hard to speak clearly, “I actually live just a few blocks away, if you don’t mind walking me home?”

Carlos turns to face him, his eyes wide. TK stares back, wanting more than anything to just get lost in his gaze. Carlos has a way of making him feel like he’s wrapped up in a safe blanket with just one look, and it makes him long for a day where they can just be together, in whatever way makes sense, without any hang-ups.

“Sure,” he says gently.

They turn to the left again, another silence falling between them. TK twists his hands together in front of him, working up the courage to finally face the elephant on the sidewalk.

“Carlos, I’m sorry,” he blurts out, a heat rising on his cheeks as the other man turns towards him, his confusion clear. “For Homecoming, and Alex, and everything that happened that weekend,” he barrels on before Carlos can speak.

He watches as Carlos clenches his jaw again, shaking his head as he looks away. “Okay, um, thank you, I guess? But I don’t understand, you apologized for that a long time ago, and I forgave you already.”

TK eyes him, noticing how tense his shoulders are, so he decides to push further. He doesn’t want anything to go unspoken between them, not anymore, not when they’ve come this far.

“I know, but it was a terrible fucking apology, and you deserved better,” he continues. “I basically forced Alex to come and visit me, and he really hated being here. I knew that, he wasn’t quiet about it, and I still dragged him to Carolina’s. I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to share my favorite place with him,” he says, stumbling over the confession. “I didn’t know that he would take his bad mood out on you and Paul and Marjan like that.”

“Yeah,” Carlos breaks in, and TK can hear an edge in his voice that crushes him. “I mean, I think we can all admit that Texas isn’t without its flaws, but it’s still not fun to listen to some asshole shit on your hometown for two hours and not be able to say anything because you’re at work.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry that you had to deal with him--”

“TK, you don’t have to apologize, he clearly wasn’t sorry about what he said.”

“No, I know, I know,” TK clarifies, his movements agitated as they turn onto his street. “I’m not apologizing for him, I’m apologizing for putting you in that position. You didn’t deserve it, and I did nothing to stop him and I should have, and I’m sorry, Carlos. I’m so sorry.”

Carlos stops in his tracks at the clear emotion in TK’s voice, reaching out to grip his arms soothingly. “Hey, TK, it’s okay. It was over a year ago, you apologized the very next time I saw you, and I eventually got over it.”

“Did you?” TK hears himself ask before he can stop the question. He watches as Carlos rapidly blinks, visibly swallowing, his fingers still pressed against TK’s skin.

“It’s just…” TK begins, looking away quickly as he feels frustrated tears forming; the last thing he wants to do is cry tonight. “You were the first good thing that I found here, Carlos. That summer, those first weeks of school, I thought we were… I don’t know, becoming friends, I guess. But then after Homecoming, there was this distance between us and I couldn’t figure out how to get rid of it, and now I don’t know what we are.”

TK isn’t expecting it when Carlos pulls him close, wrapping his arms around him to steady him. He freezes, his heart liquifying in his chest as he struggles to comprehend the embrace. TK has literally thought about what it would be like to hug Carlos since that very first day, long before it was appropriate for him to be thinking of the barista in that way. Still, he couldn’t help but to imagine those strong arms holding him tight, their chests pressed tightly together.

He realizes now that he vastly underestimated how perfect it would feel to have Carlos so close. TK wraps his own arms around him before he can pull away, leaning in to rest his chin on Carlos’s shoulder. He feels completely surrounded and whole, all of his senses assaulted by their proximity. He can smell the familiar scent of Carlos’s laundry detergent, except this time it’s not mixed with the smell of coffee, but something else, something that TK just knows is inherently Carlos, and that discovery makes his heart race. He desperately wants to discover everything there is to know about this man in his arms.

Eventually, they pull apart, TK purposefully dragging his hands down Carlos’s back and around his waist before separating from him completely. They avoid each other’s eyes, awkwardly turning back to walk in the direction they were heading. TK steals a glance at the same time that Carlos does, their eyes meeting briefly before they quickly look away again. He can’t help the bubble of giddy laughter that crawls up his throat, his heart skipping when he hears Carlos respond with a laugh of his own.

“For the record, I’m sorry, too,” Carlos says, his deep, soothing voice cutting through the still night air. “That first summer you were here, I also thought we were… becoming something. And I guess meeting Alex was a bit of a surprise, and I didn’t react to it very well. I think some sense of self-preservation led to me pulling back a bit. That was selfish of me, and I’m sorry that I hurt you or confused you.”

At Carlos’s confession, TK feels a long-misplaced part of his heart finally slide back to where it belongs, the clear understanding of where they went wrong like a giant weight lifted from him.

He stops at the end of his driveway, noticing his dad’s truck parked in front of the garage. He didn’t realize it was late enough for him to be home from work. He knows he should probably go inside, but he can’t help but turn back towards Carlos, seeing the way his brown eyes scan his face, his brows furrowed in thought.

“So,” TK starts, wiggling his head a bit to help lessen the tension of the moment.

“So,” Carlos responds, a grin appearing on his face.

“So,” TK repeats, dragging the world out as he dares to reach out and poke Carlos’s arm, “where does that leave us now? You know, without the Alex-shaped hole between us?”

Carlos stares at him for a moment, considering his question, before holding out his hand.

“Hey, I’m Carlos,” he says, raising an eyebrow, challenging TK to meet him halfway.

“I’m TK,” he responds, taking Carlos’s hand in his and shaking it. He feels ridiculous, and Carlos must, too, because they both crack up in laughter at the same time.

“It’s nice to meet you, TK,” Carlos says, stepping back, his eyes glinting as his smile remains firmly in place. TK may let out a lovelorn sigh at the sight, but he’s not entirely sure.

Carlos is a little ways back down the sidewalk when a question pops into TK’s head, and he doesn’t hesitate to ask it, raising his voice so that Carlos can hear him clearly.

“Does this mean that we have to forget everything we already know about each other?”

Carlos turns towards him, continuing to walk backwards. Even from a distance, TK can tell that he’s the most beautiful person in the entire world, bar none.

“Of course not,” Carlos yells back, raising his arms in a wide gesture. “It just means we get to learn more!”

TK doesn’t take his eyes off him until he’s completely out of sight, and even then, he swears he’ll never forget that final view of a relaxed, carefree, and gorgeous Carlos Reyes bathed in the Texas moonlight for as long as he lives.

☕☕☕☕

For the seventh or eighth time this week, Carlos finds himself absentmindedly scrubbing down the espresso machine, the cloth towel in his hand growing dirtier and dirtier as he presses into every crease and crevice of his station. Grace has started joking that if he keeps it up, they may be able to resell it for the cost of a new one, since no one will be able to tell that it’s been used before.

He apologizes every time she cracks the joke, but his friend just waves him off, and he goes back to his mindless scrubbing, once again getting lost in his overwhelming thoughts.

It’s been nearly two weeks since he walked TK home from Iris Blake’s party, and Carlos feels like he’s entered an alternate reality. His daily routine hasn’t changed in the slightest; he still wakes up, goes to school, and then most days of the week he works at the coffee shop. When he’s not at the cafe, he’s at home, spending time with his sisters or cooking with his mom. Arguably, it’s the life that he’s always known.

Except it’s not, because now there’s this specter hanging over every part of his day, and his name is TK Strand. Every morning he wakes up clutching a pillow to his chest, imagining that it’s TK’s firm body pressed against him, the ghost of their hug still fresh in his mind. When he’s at school, they share a few classes, and he can’t help but to glance over at TK every chance he gets, a thrill coursing through him when he finds him looking back. When he’s at home, moving around the kitchen with his mom, he can’t help but imagine what it would be like to hang out and cook with TK, the two of them pressed close as they try out new recipes together.

TK still shows up at the coffee shop most days of the week, and Carlos would be a little concerned about his obvious coffee addiction if he wasn’t so damn excited to see him each and every time. TK will place his usual order, which Carlos will always have started before he even utters a word, and then he’ll move down to the end of the counter to stand on the other side of the espresso machine, his face lit up into a smile that Carlos feels is made just for him.

The first time TK showed up at Carolina’s after the party, Carlos was so nervous that he spilled a carton of milk all over the floor. Grace, who had been working with him, had helped him clean up the mess and then, when their line died down, dragged him into the kitchen, a knowing smirk on her face.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” she had asked, her voice low as she leaned towards him.

“It was nothing, my hand just slipped,” Carlos assured her, feeling a heat rise on his cheeks as his voice came out higher than normal.

“Carlos, you are meticulous when you’re at work. You hardly ever spill,” Grace had reminded him, bringing a gentle hand up to cup his cheek. “There’s only one person who makes you nervous enough to throw you off your game, and I just happened to notice how he walked through the door right before your little accident.”

Carlos had groaned, dropping his eyes to the floor. Then, like a giant wave careening onto an unsuspecting beach, he was telling her every single thing that had happened at the party the previous evening.

“Oh my god, Carlos!” Grace had cried when he was through, jumping up and down with her hands pressed to mouth. “Oh my god! So what are you guys now? Are you going to ask him out?”

“I don’t know, Gracie,” he had admitted, biting his lip. “I think we’re going to start over, try to be friends again.”

“And you’re okay with that?” she had questioned, giving him a knowing look. “Carlos, you’re practically in love with the guy.”

The conversation had ended there, the sound of a ringing bell forcing them back out to work. Carlos remembers that conversation now as he continues scrubbing down the espresso machine. It’s all he’s been able to think about for the past few days.

Before, he would’ve written off Grace’s claim that he was in love with TK as just her being dramatic, but that was before their walk together under the stars. He’s always had those feelings for the other guy, from the moment he first saw him. He was telling TK the truth when he said that he thought they were becoming something, and he’s spent more than a year convincing himself that he made it all up in his head, running through every single one of their conversations in his head to figure out how he missed the warning signs that TK was unavailable and uninterested.

So yeah, he might be a little in love with TK, even though they’ve been mere classmates for the better part of fifteen months, but he can’t help it; he knows that the way TK makes him feel isn’t just some simple high school crush. Carlos has experienced those, back before junior year, and he’s even gained experience from them. He’s by no means unpracticed when it comes to feeling things for other guys. Sure, he’s never publicly been with anyone, but there have been stolen moments around corners, or in a truck bed parked in an empty field. The point is, he knows what he wants from other guys and what those things can make him feel, and it’s nothing compared to what he wants with TK, or how he feels about him.

For the past two weeks, they’ve been closer than they’ve ever been as they explore their new friendship. TK will pass him in the hall, a bright smile aimed his way and a quick “hi” on his lips, and Carlos will always return the greeting. Sometimes he’ll turn back at the end of the hall and see that TK has done the same, a flutter running through his chest as they make eye contact again, before they both head off to class. Just this week, TK started texting him ridiculous memes and gifs, his messages always filled with as many emojis as he can bring himself to add, and Carlos hurries to text him back every time, his messages carrying a much more reserved tone with fewer emojis, but always full of interest and excitement at getting to hear from him.

This friendship between them is still finding its footing, and Carlos doesn’t mind moving slow; if he and TK are truly meant for more, he knows that they have no shortage of time to figure it out.

“Earth to Carlos,” Grace says, waving her hand in front of his face to snap him out of his thoughts. He turns to look at her, feeling the way the tips of his ears heat up in embarrassment, and tries not to automatically glance over to the far corner of the room where he knows a certain someone is sitting with his nose in a book.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, grabbing the empty to-go cup in her other hand and looking down to read the order she’s written on the side.

“Are you okay?” Grace asks, ducking down to look her in the face as he presses the buttons he needs on the machine. “I know you’ve been extra spacey lately, but that was a little much even for you. I thought I might have to pull the fire alarm or something to get your attention.”

He gives her a laugh, and it sounds forced even to his own ears. “I’m fine, I promise,” he tells her, focusing his attention on the drink he’s making. “Just thinking about homework that I still have to finish tonight.”

The lie sounds hollow even to his own ears, and he can tell that Grace doesn’t believe him by the way she scoffs in response, but instead of calling him on it, she just turns back to the display case, pulling out some unsold pastries to put into the walk-in overnight.

Carlos grabs the milk, pouring it into the metal canister and moving it under the steam tap. As he waits for it to heat up, he steals a quick peek over to the corner where TK is hunched over the table, focusing on a book in front of him.

It’s nearing closing time, with only a little over an hour left of Carlos’s shift, and TK has been here for almost four hours at this point. Paul and Marjan were with him when he arrived, all of them sitting on their usual couch, chatting and working on homework. However, they left about two hours ago, around 6; normally, they all leave together, and Carlos still doesn’t know what may have caused the sudden change to their routine.

There are only a handful of people in the cafe now, most of them sitting at various tables typing away at their laptops while their coffees grow cold next to them. Carlos finishes up the cappuccino that he’s working on, passing it over to the girl waiting at the counter with a smile. Then, riding the wave of a sudden idea, he turns back towards Grace, rearranging his face into what he hopes is an innocently endearing expression.

“Gracie, do you mind if I take a minute?” he asks, biting his lip to really sell it. She turns towards him, raising her brows; he hardly ever asks for a break, so he understands the surprise.

“Yeah, of course,” she says, reaching out to grip his elbow in support. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh yeah, I just, um...,” he hesitates, wondering if he should be upfront with her; he decides that, as his best friend, she will definitely understand. “I wanted to check-in with someone,” twisting his body in the direction of the corner couch, a small smile growing on his face.

Grace’s gaze softens, a twinkle lighting up her eyes. “Go ahead, loverboy. I’m only allowing this since you’ve already cleaned your station within an inch of its life, okay? Don’t expect these kinds of perks all the time.”

Carlos laughs, giving her a quick hug before untying his apron from around his waist and turning to place it on a hook. Then, he grabs a napkin from the dispenser and reaches towards the half-empty display case to grab a chocolate chip cookie, shooting Grace a wink as he circles around the counter.

“You’re such a charmer,” she says quietly after him, and he feels his heart pounding in his ears, but he keeps walking before he can talk himself out of his plan.

TK doesn’t notice him approaching; he’s too busy scratching away at what looks to Carlos like a very long math problem. Taking a chance, he places the cookie on top of the open page of TK’s textbook.

TK freezes at the close movement, turning to stare at the dessert. Even with his head down, Carlos can see the way TK’s lips rise into a smile, but he’s still not prepared when that smile is directed his way, TK finally looking up at him with those bright green eyes.

“Hi,” Carlos says gently, his own smile growing the longer he stares at TK.

“Hi,” he says back, his own voice slightly rough from hours of disuse. “Do you guys offer table treats now?” he asks, gesturing towards the cookie.

“Only for the really special people,” Carlos fires back, his fingers twitching nervously at his sides. “Besides, you looked like you were fading a bit, so I thought you could use something sweet.”

TK groans, throwing himself back on the couch in a pout that is definitely way too adorable for Carlos to witness right now. It just makes him want to run his fingers through his hair to calm him down.

“I’m currently questioning my decision to take calculus this year,” TK explains, curling his bottom lip as he looks up at Carlos. He quickly looks away, fixing his eyes on the table, so that he doesn’t do something stupid like straddle him on the couch and pull that lip between his teeth.

“Do you mind if I take a look?” he asks instead, reaching for the half-completed worksheet. At TK’s nod, Carlos glances down at it. He’s not in calculus, having elected to take statistics this semester for his math credit, which means that he really has no idea what he’s looking at. Still, he wonders if his lack of understanding might be helpful anyway.

“Okay, you finished this one, right?” Carlos asks, moving quickly around the table to sit down on the couch next to TK, who sits up to see where he’s pointing.

“Yeah, that one wasn’t too hard.”

“Okay, so what’s different about this one?” Carlos questions, staring down at the paper and intentionally ignoring how TK’s warm body is pressed to his side as they lean towards one another.

TK launches into an explanation, pointing out the different parts of the completed problem and how it varies from the current one. Carlos listens closely, having no clue what he’s actually saying, and he can tell when TK solves his problem mid-sentence by the way the light in his eyes change, becoming brighter and more alive. He grabs the paper out of Carlos’s hand, leaning forward to scribble down the answer to the equation.

Carlos can’t help the way his heart swells in his chest, the thought of him and TK studying together assaulting his brain without warning. He realizes how much he really wants that, to be by TK’s side whenever he works through a problem just so he can watch how his beautiful green eyes light up with excitement and pride.

“Oh my god,” TK says, tossing his pencil down and leaning back to sink into the couch again. “I’ve been trying to solve that for like the past ten minutes, you’re the best.”

“I didn’t do anything, that was all you,” Carlos reminds him, shooting him a quick smile. “Sometimes it helps to explain things as simply as possible to get back to the basics.”

TK’s silent for a moment, staring at him with a fond look, before he huffs out a light laugh. “Well, you still helped. You’re a good study partner.”

“Thanks,” Carlos replies, his cheeks flushing. He turns back towards the table. “How about that sugar break now?”

He reaches for the cookie, handing it over to TK. The man looks down at it for a second before breaking it in two, offering half of it to Carlos. “Share it with me?”

Carlos takes the cookie, watching as TK brings his piece up to his mouth to take a bite. He’s not expecting it when he moans around the baked good, and Carlos has to look away, swallowing an indecent noise of his own. He’s so glad that he’s seated, though he takes a moment to adjust his hips until he’s more comfortable.

“Oh my god, this is so good,” TK groans out, taking another bite. Carlos takes a bite of his own, just to give himself something to do. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

That raises a question that Carlos didn’t even realize he had until now. “You’ve been here all night, did you even eat dinner?”

TK stares over at him, a guilty expression on his face. “I forgot?”

“TK--”

“In my defense, I’m completely swamped with homework, which makes me a little anxious sometimes. I skip a lot of meals, it’s not a big deal.”

Carlos clenches his jaw, not wanting to make a fuss out of something that’s not his business. “Do you want me to make you something? We’ve got sandwiches, I could heat one up for you.”

He rises from the couch, already planning to go raid the walk-in and see what’s available, but TK stops him with a gentle hand on his wrist. It’s the first time they’ve touched since the night of the party, and Carlos feels the way electricity courses through his entire body.

“I’m okay,” TK says, when Carlos finally turns back towards him. He let’s go of his wrist when he realizes Carlos is staying put. “I should probably leave anyway, since you guys are closing soon.”

Carlos looks around, noticing that there are only a few people left in the coffee shop. Grace is already cleaning off the empty tables, and Carlos realizes that he must have taken a longer break than he planned. Still, he doesn’t want to say goodbye to TK just yet.

“Have you started your English assignment yet?” Carlos asks out of nowhere, watching as TK’s eyes widen at the sudden question.

“No, I still have to finish the reading,” TK admits, tilting his head in confusion.

“Me too,” Carlos says, taking a step closer. “Maybe we could… work on it together?”

There’s a moment where he holds his breath, waiting to see if TK will pick up on his hint. He doesn't want to be too forward, but he really wants another chance to see TK outside of school and the cafe.

“Yeah,” TK finally admits, a small smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe I could… hang around until you get off? I know a certain fire captain’s house where you can get an awesome grilled cheese sandwich at this hour.”

Carlos lets out a breath, his heart racing at the suggestion. He’s glad to see that they’re already on the same wavelength.

“I’ll need to check with my mom first, make sure it’s okay,” he says, twisting his fingers together.

“Yeah, of course,” TK says, giving him a nod as his eyes shine in the lamp lights. “It’s a date: you, me, grilled cheese, and Hamlet.”

Carlos feels his heart nearly explode in his chest at TK’s word choice, but instead of verbally freaking out about it, he just gives him a quick nod before he’s rushing back to the counter to grab his phone.

A few minutes later, after a very hurried call with his mother, who sternly tells him to be home by 11, he’s enthusiastically helping Grace flip the chairs in the dining area, his gaze continuously pulled towards his cute, brown-haired study date waiting for him in the corner of the room.

Carlos tries his best to ignore the knowing smirk that Grace gives him the entire time.

☕☕☕☕

When TK wakes up, there are a number of things that he notices right away.

For one, he seems to have fallen asleep in his jeans, which are now bunched up around his hips. He also seems to be sitting up, which is definitely not his preferred sleeping position, and he’s about to open his eyes to try and figure why he fell asleep in such an uncomfortable way, when he realizes that he’s not alone.

There’s a slight pressure running along his back and against his hip, as well as a weight pressing down on top of his head. Under his cheek, he feels soft fabric, which he thought was just his pillowcase, but now he realizes that whatever’s underneath the fabric is much more firm than any of his pillows. When he inhales deeply, he recognizes the familiar scent of coffee, laundry detergent, and a smell that he associates with only one other person.

He opens his eyes slowly, hardly daring to breathe. Beneath him, he watches as Carlos’s broad chest rises and falls as he sleeps peacefully. TK’s not sure how they got into this situation, but he’s folded himself into Carlos’s side, his head resting on his shoulder near his neck, his left hand thrown across his waist. Carlos has wrapped an arm around him, holding him close, as he rests his head on top of TK’s. It might not be the most comfortable position for either of them, but the intimacy of it thrills him, and without even thinking, he turns his face to bury himself further into Carlos’s neck, a contented sigh rising up his throat.

TK shuts his eyes, planning to just fall back to sleep in Carlos’s arms, when he hears someone clear their throat pointedly. He freezes, recognizing the sound, before quickly pulling away from Carlos to look towards his dad, who is standing in the doorway to their living room.

“Dad, you’re home! I--” TK begins, but before he can try to explain, he hears a soft groan next to him. He feels Carlos’s arm tighten around him as the boy shifts closer, his face pressing into the space under TK’s chin.

“Wait, TK, don’t go anywhere,” Carlos mumbles, clearly still asleep, and TK flushes at both his words and his actions, watching as his dad’s eyes widen at their new positions.

“Carlos,” TK says gently into his ear, shaking him a bit. “Carlos, wake up.”

TK can tell the minute Carlos realizes that he’s not dreaming; he freezes for a second before suddenly pulling away completely. TK watches as he blinks rapidly, his eyes darting around the room as he figures out where he is and what’s going on. At the sight of his dad in the far corner of the room, Carlos jumps to his feet, straightening his clothes as he stands straight. From his position on the couch next to him, TK can see his hands shaking.

“Captain Strand,” Carlos huffs out, his voice trembling with nerves. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

TK can’t help but to admire how, even in a terrifying moment like this, Carlos is still so polite and respectful. He rises from the couch, bringing a hand up to grip Carlos’s shoulder in support.

“Dad, I wasn’t expecting you home yet,” TK says, and he feels the way Carlos relaxes slightly now that he’s taking over the conversation. “I thought you worked until 11 tonight.”

His dad’s expression changes to one of confusion as he stares at both of them. Then, he’s lifting up his arm to point at his wristwatch. “TK, it’s almost midnight.”

The change is almost instantaneous. One moment, Carlos is standing next to him, and then the next, he’s diving for his phone on the table next to them, a loud sound of distress pouring out of him when he confirms the time.

“Oh my god, no,” Carlos says, his attention focused on his phone. He brings it up to his ear, his hand shaking so bad that TK worries that he might drop it. The minute the call connects, Carlos’s face crumbles.

“Mami, Mami,” he says quickly, his breathing labored as he runs his free hand through his curls. He continues the conversation in Spanish, his voice high and strained, turning his back on TK and his dad to face the wall.

TK may be in his fourth year of Spanish, but that doesn’t mean much, and it’s clear that Carlos wants a bit of privacy, so he doesn’t try to figure out what he’s saying. He struggles to remember their conversation from earlier, his brain cutting back to Carlos telling him he had to be home by 11, and that thought spurs him into action.

As quickly as possible, he gathers all of Carlos’s things that are spread out on the table from their study session, reaching for his backpack on the floor. He pulls out a jacket that Carlos has inside, knowing that it’s probably much cooler outside than it was nearly 3 hours ago. He looks around to make sure that he’s got everything, and when he’s sure he does, he turns back to Carlos, who still has his back to him.

He takes in the tense set of his friend’s shoulders, how they’re raised so high that he can barely see his neck. Carlos is pacing now, his hand pressed to his face as he speaks to his mom; TK knows that he’s trying to appear calm, he can tell by the way he’s keeping his voice as steady as possible. After a few more seconds, he hangs up the call, and TK watches as a small sob rolls through his body, Carlos all but curling in on himself at the weight of the stress.

“Carlos…” TK starts hesitantly, coming up behind him. Carlos turns towards him immediately, his eyes shining with tears.

“She was so scared,” he cries out, and TK closes the distance between them to pull him into a hug, his hands coming up to rub against his back. Carlos holds him back, clearly needing TK to help him remain standing. “It’s been almost an hour, and she didn’t know anything, and I put her through that.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” TK says soothingly, squeezing Carlos tighter. “We fell asleep, it was an accident. She knows you’re okay now, and you can explain everything to her when you get home. So, let’s get you home, okay?”

Carlos nods, letting out a labored breath, and TK pulls away to hand him his jacket. While Carlos puts it on, TK reaches for his phone and his keys, but he’s stopped by his dad speaking for the first time since revealing the time.

“I’ll drive you home, Carlos,” he says, and TK looks up to find him giving Carlos a sympathetic, comforting look.

“Dad, it’s okay, I can--”

“No, TK. It’s midnight on a school night, you need to go to bed,” his dad cuts him off, voice firm. “End of discussion.”

TK turns back to Carlos, noticing how he isn’t really present in the moment. His brows are still furrowed, eyes a little wild, and there’s a tear track down his cheek. TK grabs his backpack, handing it over to him, and then, because it’s something he really wants to do, he pulls Carlos into another quick hug.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” he whispers in his ear, turning his face slighting to touch his lips to Carlos’s overheated skin. It’s not really meant to be a kiss, and Carlos doesn’t seem to notice it anyway. He merely nods again before he’s rushing out of the room. With one last look his way, TK watches as his dad turns to follow him, the front door closing firmly behind him.

TK is alone for about 30 minutes, and he doesn’t stay still for a single second of that time. After he paces in front of the window, watching as his dad’s truck pulls out of the drive, he turns back to the living room, moving to gather all of his school work back into his backpack. He’ll just have to finish his English homework during his free period tomorrow. He grabs the plates and cups that he and Carlos used for dinner, taking them into the kitchen. He finishes loading the dishwasher, pressing start to run it. The gentle sound fills the quiet space as TK roams around the room, trying to figure out what to do next.

He heads upstairs to change for bed, switching his jeans for a pair of comfy sweatpants. He hesitates for just a moment before grabbing the soft green t-shirt from his desk chair, pulling it on. It still fits loosely over his torso, and no longer smells like coffee and Carlos’s laundry detergent, but he doesn’t care; it’s the closest he can be to the other guy right now, and feeling close to him is all he wants.

He heads into the bathroom, getting ready for bed, his mind spinning back to the evening and the time they spent together before falling asleep. When they had first arrived at his house, TK had immediately led Carlos to the kitchen, pulling out all of the ingredients that he needed for grilled cheese sandwiches. As he stood at the stove, toasting the bread and waiting for the cheese to melt, he and Carlos had talked. Carlos shared his love of cooking, talking about how he and his mom would make dinner together as often as possible; he got a faraway look in his eyes as he spoke, his affection for his mother clear-as-day, and TK swears he fell more in love with him at that moment.

As he stands in front of his bathroom mirror, toothbrush dangling from his mouth, TK realizes that what he feels for Carlos is more than just a high school crush. He was with Alex for almost two years, the two of them getting together early freshman year, and he never felt even a fraction of what he feels when he’s with Carlos during that time. It doesn’t matter where they are - school, the cafe, his kitchen, or a sidewalk - he can’t help but feel drawn to him. He wakes up every morning from dreams about Carlos’s bright smile and kind eyes, and he falls asleep every night imagining his strong arms wrapped around him, holding TK like he’s something precious and valued.

He’s startled out of his daze by the sound of the front door opening. He quickly spits out his toothpaste and rinses his mouth out before he takes the stairs two at a time, finding his dad in the kitchen.

“Mrs. Reyes sent me home with some empanadas,” he says, opening the fridge to find a place for them. He doesn’t seem at all surprised to find TK still awake.

“Is he okay?” TK asks, his worry for Carlos rearing up again now that his dad’s back.

“He’s fine, TK,” his dad assures him, giving him a gentle look. “His mom was worried sick, but very happy to see him, and I explained the whole situation to her. I think they’ll both be okay.”

TK lets out a sigh of relief, his heart hammering in his chest. “He was so scared,” he whispers, his voice trembling at the memory of Carlos breaking down in front of them.

His dad must see something on his face, because he comes up to TK and pulls him into a solid hug. TK sinks into his embrace, feeling protected the way he always does when his dad holds him like this.

“He’s a good kid, and he clearly cares a lot about his mom,” his dad confirms. “He spent the entire drive there on edge, and he didn’t relax until he was able to give her a hug.”

“His dad was a police officer,” TK explains, the pieces coming together in his mind. “He died in a car accident while on-duty.”

“Oh,” his dad says, and nothing more. TK knows they’re both thinking the same thing; growing up in the home of a first responder means living with a certain fear that never really goes away.

After a moment, TK pulls away, looking down at his feet. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was having someone over. It was kind of sudden, and he wasn’t supposed to be here so late.”

“I’m not mad, TK,” his dad tells him, bringing his hand up to cup the back of TK’s neck gently. “You’re 18, and you’ve spent a long time learning to take care of yourself. I trust you.”

TK nods, a small weight lifting off his chest.

“I know I was never crazy about Alex,” his dad continues, “but Carlos seems like a really good guy. You didn’t have to keep him a secret from me.”

TK freezes, his mouth dropping open in slight shock at his dad’s implication. “I’m not d-dating Carlos, Dad,” he stutters out in a hurried breath.

“Oh, really?” his dad questions, and TK spots a twinkle in his eye. “Well, I don’t think either of you have gotten the memo on that one, so you should probably talk that out at some point,” he teases, stepping away to leave the room, probably to head upstairs.

TK quickly follows after him, his heart pounding in his chest. “Hey, Dad,” he calls out, watching as he pauses on the stairs to turn back towards him. “Do you think it’s possible to meet your forever person in high school?”

It’s a fear that he can’t shake; he knows that most high school relationships end soon after graduation, and the idea that that could happen for him and Carlos if they started something in the last months of high school sometimes keeps him awake at night. The last thing he wants to do is lose him when he just got him back.

His dad gives him a serious look, almost as if he can hear TK’s thoughts. “I think a relationship takes a lot of work, no matter how old you are,” he begins, his face shifting into an expression of sympathy. “When you’re younger and you know less about yourself and the world around you, it can be more challenging. People don’t always expect to change so much, and that can be hard on a couple.”

TK nods, biting his bottom lip as he glances down at his feet again.

“If you want my advice? Don’t think of someone as your forever person,” his dad finishes. “Most people struggle to live up to that kind of pressure. If you’re going to be with someone, it should be because they matter to you at that moment. Now, that doesn’t mean that, if two people change, they will stop mattering to one another. People can grow together, but they’ve got to allow each other to do that. Don’t get lost in the idea of a lifetime and lose sight of the individual moments that make up life, TK.”

TK glances back up when he hears his dad begin to climb the stairs again. “Thanks, Dad,” he gets out before he can disappear.

“Oh, and TK?” his dad calls down from the top of the stairs. “If you’re not telling Carlos how you really feel because you’re afraid it won’t last, I don’t think you’re being fair to yourself or to him. You’ve gotta give yourself a chance to see what you can become together, and you can’t be scared of that.”

With that, his dad turns into his bedroom, closing the door behind him, and TK is left to mull over every thought that he has had about Carlos in the past two weeks.

When he finally drifts off to sleep around two in the morning, completely exhausted, he’s made a decision about what he truly wants.

He wants Carlos.

☕☕☕☕

Carlos doesn’t go to school the next day.

HIs panic attack from the night before leaves him physically and emotionally drained, and when he wakes up, he feels like he’s in a daze. He must look pretty pathetic, because when his mom sees him she sends him straight back to bed, already picking up the phone to call his school.

He wakes up again around 11, feeling better. He also has a text waiting for him on his phone, from TK. Before he even opens it to read what it says, he feels his heart racing.

Sorry again for what happened last night. I hope you’re okay.

Carlos has no idea what he did to deserve having someone like TK in his life. Their history might be rocky, and they may have had to wipe the slate clean to find their way to where they are now, but Carlos wouldn’t trade a single moment of that for the entire world.

He shoots back a quick text letting TK know that he’s fine, just not feeling very well. Then, before he can spend the entire day hovering over his phone like a lovesick idiot, he puts it on silent and gets out of bed.

Most of his day consists of him roaming around the house, finding ways to stay busy; he does some laundry, cleans the kitchen and living room, sweeps the floors. After lunch, he finishes up his homework from last night just so that he doesn’t have to think about it over the weekend. When he’s feeling restless, he decides to go for a run. It helps to clear his mind of all of his lingering panic and worry, which just leaves him with overwhelming thoughts about one person in particular.

He was so caught up in fear and guilt over what he put his mother through, that he didn’t even get a chance to process what all happened last night. Carlos has dreamed of waking up with TK in his arms so many nights that he’s lost count, which is why he initially had such a hard time believing that it had actually happened. But, it did. They had fallen asleep on the couch and cuddled together, and it was the best feeling in the entire world. If he remembers hard enough, he can still smell TK’s hair from when he used it as a pillow, he can still feel the weight of TK’s arm around his waist. It may have been an incredibly uncomfortable position to rest, but it was the best sleep that Carlos has ever had.

He thinks back to before then, when they sat next to one another reading Shakespeare, their knees pressed together as they each read lines and talked about the characters. TK had a lot of opinions about Hamlet’s constant overthinking and hesitation, and Carlos loved listening to him rant about how the play could’ve been so much shorter if someone else had been given the revenge task. He definitely remembers laughing in the middle of one of those rants, and TK’s look of absolute betrayal will stay with him for the rest of his life.

Later than evening, he’s helping his mother with dinner, his thoughts wandering back to TK making them grilled cheeses the night before, when she cuts through his mental daydreaming about how perfect it would be to relive last night all over again, minus breaking his curfew.

“You’re thinking about that boy again, mijo,” she says, looking up at him with what can only be described as fond exasperation. He feels his face flush as he sautés the peppers in the skillet in front of him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responds, his voice thin. She just huffs out a laugh.

“You have this look that you get sometimes, like you’re off on some other planet,” his mom explains, bringing a hand up to caress his cheek. “I didn’t know what it was before, but I think I do now.”

Carlos remains silent, waiting for her to ask the question that he knows is coming. Sure enough, it doesn’t take long for her to voice it.

“Is it the fire captain’s son?”

He hesitates just a moment before he turns to look at her, answering her question with a nod.

“Oh, mijo,” she says, a smile taking over her face as she brings her other hand up, holding his face between her palms. “If he’s anything like his dad, I bet he’s adorable.”

He can’t help but let out a laugh; he could tell his mom was a little taken aback by Captain Strand showing up with him last night, still dressed in his uniform.

“He’s beautiful, Mami,” he breathes out, the dam breaking on all of his thoughts. “He has these pretty green eyes that just shine so bright, and he’s so smart and passionate and caring. I just feel so happy every time I’m near him.”

His mom nods along as he rambles on and on, clearly enjoying the image that he’s painting of TK. When he pauses for a breath, she brings a hand down to place over his heart, smiling up at him.

“Have you told this boy how you feel?” she asks.

Her words send a shiver down his spine, his heart beating as he considers her question. It only requires a simple, one-word answer, but underneath there’s a whole layer of him figuring out how he actually feels for TK, a process that he’s gone through so many times in the past few weeks it’s becoming ritualistic.

He thinks about last night, how TK had been right by his side during his moment of panic. He thinks about how TK took him in his arms, holding him in one piece and helping to bring him back from the edge. He thinks about how he had cared for Carlos when he needed him the most, how he had texted him this morning to apologize and make sure he was okay. Those memories mix with all of the ones from before, and Carlos feels his heart solidifying inside of him, almost as if it had been waiting for this moment of realization.

He’s completely, hopelessly in love with TK Strand.

His face must show some sign of that truth, because his mother moves forward to pull him into her arms. He immediately wraps his own around her shoulders, holding her tight, as he feels a light growing inside of him.

“Oh, mijo,” she says against his chest, “I’m so happy for you. I always wanted you to find someone special.”

He buries his face in her hair, pressing a kiss there, before letting out a joyful laugh. He stares up at the ceiling, trying to blink back the unwanted tears that are forming. When they pull apart, his mother takes his face in her hands again, forcing him to look at her.

“You have to tell him, cariño,” she says sternly, her eyes ablaze with a fire that surprises him. “Time is precious, and you can’t waste it. Hold him close for as long as you can.”

She speaks with the weight of someone who knows what it’s like to not have enough time. He thinks about his dad, and the conversation that he and TK had on the porch swing about their plans for the future. He knows what a relationship with TK would mean, especially if it lasts as long as he would like it to, but he doesn’t care. TK is worth it.

“I will, Mami,” he assures her, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “Te prometo.”

☕☕☕☕

TK can’t bring himself to walk through the door.

He’s done it a hundred times before, he knows what’s waiting for him inside, but he can’t do it. When he fell asleep two nights ago, he felt an intense certainty inside of him, and when he woke up on Friday morning, he was relieved to find that it hadn’t abated. He knew what he wanted, and he was ready to put himself out there, no matter the outcome.

But then, Carlos had been absent from school, and doubts started to fill his mind. TK wasn’t narcissistic enough to think that Carlos missing school was entirely about him; after all, it was an intense night for him, and he’s sure that had an effect on Carlos’s sleep and health. TK firmly believed him when he texted that he wasn’t feeling well, but the longer he went without seeing his friend, the less certain he felt about making a move.

Now, he’s been standing outside for ten minutes, peering into the window like a crazed stalker. He’s already spotted Carlos, he and Grace involved in what appears to be an intense conversation with Judd, Grace’s boyfriend, across the counter. The cafe isn’t too busy for a mid-Saturday morning, and it’s a bright, beautiful Texas day. The conditions could not be more perfect for a revelatory day, and yet TK can’t walk through the door.

“How long are we going to stand out here?” Marjan finally says from behind him, and he turns to see her leaning against the brick wall of the shop next door. She looks up from her phone to give him a gentle smile. “I’m just saying, I could really use a tea right now.”

“TK, talk to us, what’s scaring you?” Paul asks at her side, his arms crossed over his chest as he stares at him with a calculated look. “You’re just asking him on a date.”

“But what if he says no?” TK whispers, his fear pushing his heart into his throat. “What if I ruin everything and we go back to barely talking to each other? What if now isn’t the right time?”

Paul and Marjan share a quick look before they’re pushing off the wall. They wrap him in a group hug, their arms tight around him. He allows himself to take a breath, trying to calm down.

“You love him, right?” Marjan asks, pulling away at his nod. “Then you have to tell him, TK. Keeping something like that secret will do more damage to your friendship than telling him to the truth.”

“You’re joining the fire academy in just a few months,” Paul adds, gripping his shoulder. “You love to take risks. And loving someone is risky, so you might as well jump now. Besides, I’ll eat my own hand if he says no to you.”

TK nods, taking in their advice. He can do this. He can be honest with Carlos, and he can face the outcome. He knows Carlos, and he knows that no matter what the other guy says, he won’t hurt him. He won’t be mean or laugh at him. That’s not who Carlos is, and TK can’t decide how he’ll react before he actually faces him; it’s not fair to him.

He pulls the straps of his backpack tighter as he turns towards the door, and with another deep breath, he heads inside.

Like every time before, there’s a moment where he and Carlos lock eyes from across the room, and like every time before, TK feels a warmth blanket his entire body as he stares into his favorite pair of soft brown eyes. He doesn’t pause today, too amped up to do so, so he just moves forward towards the register to place his order.

“Hey, TK,” Grace says, a mysterious twinkle in her eyes. “You want your usual?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he says, careful to avoid looking in the direction of the barista station. He’s already worried that his voice will give out, and he’s not really looking forward to that embarrassment so early in the morning.

“Anything else?” Grace asks, a smile growing on her lips as she takes in his nervous fidgeting.

“Actually, could I get a chocolate chip cookie, too?” he says, watching as her eyebrows raise. He knows he’s going off-script a bit, but when he glances over at Carlos to see the man looking down at an order he’s completing with a quiet smile on his face, he knows he made the right move. Baby steps.

“Sure, we’ll bring those out to you when your drink’s ready,” Grace answers, and TK quickly pays, slipping a few dollars into the tip jar next to him. Then, he cuts down to the end of the counter, swinging his bag around to reach inside.

“Hey,” he says softly, Carlos immediately looking up at him, a blush rising on his cheeks. He looks so adorable, and TK almost whines in desperation, but he holds it back at the last second. “I, um, I brought your English and science assignments from yesterday.” He holds out the papers across the counter, noticing out of the corner of his eye when Judd looks up from his phone at the bar counter, staring at the two of them with interest.

Carlos stares down at the assignments for a moment before he wipes his hands down the front of his apron, reaching out to grab them as he looks back up at TK. “Thank you,” he says quietly, his eyes shining. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no big deal,” TK rushes to say, his voice a little strained. “I was hoping I would see you before Monday, so I thought it made the most sense.”

Carlos nods, his mouth dropping open for a moment. He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “I was hoping to see you, too.”

TK knows that he could ask Carlos now, while they’re standing here, but he feels Judd’s eyes on him and he doesn’t want a direct audience. So, instead, he asks, “Can we talk, whenever you have a moment free?”

Carlos visibly swallows across from him, his eyebrows rising at the question. “Y-yeah,” he stutters out, nodding. “I can come find you on my break?”

TK nods, backing away to let Carlos get back to work. “I’ll be here,” he assures him, sending a soft smile his way. Then, he turns away, rushing over to the couch where Paul and Marjan are already seated.

“Oh my god,” he says, his face on fire as he throws himself onto the couch, sinking into the cushion.

“Did you ask him?” Marjan asks, tapping his leg excitedly.

“We’re going to talk on his break,” he says, feeling an overwhelming desire to throw up. There’s no going back now, and he knows he doesn’t want to, but he feels like he’s completely lost control of this speeding train.

“Well that’s good,” Paul says, reaching for his phone. “No distractions, just the two of you, that’s good.”

TK nods, running his hands over his face as he tries to relax. He dares to peek through his fingers, his gaze pulled back towards the counter like usual.

Carlos has his back to him, looking down at Grace standing in front of him. He can’t really see her, but when she shifts to the side, he notices what can only be described as a look of encouragement as she speaks. Judd seems to be involved in the conversation as well, TK watching as he leans forward to say something. TK can’t hear him, but Grace seems to agree with him, gesturing towards her boyfriend in a way that tells TK they are on the same side of whatever conversation they’re having with their friend.

Carlos turns back towards the front, and TK watches as he finishes the toppings on a drink, a focused look on his face. Grace stands at his side in silent support, and when Carlos loads a few drinks onto a tray, TK watches as she rises up to press a kiss against his cheek, patting him on the back as Carlos circles around the counter.

He doesn’t realize that Carlos is moving towards their corner until he’s only a few tables away. TK sits up straight, an unexpectedly nervous energy coursing through him; Carlos doesn’t seem to notice, keeping his eyes on the tray as he moves through the dining area. He finally reaches them, setting the drinks down on the low table in front of them.

“One chai,” he says, handing Marjan her drink. “One dark roast with cream and sugar,” he continues, and Paul takes his cup. “And one mocha latte with two pumps of caramel,” he finishes, placing a mug down in front of TK.

He can’t pull his eyes away from Carlos’s face, watching as he stands up straight, a blush turning his entire face bright red as he bites down on his lip. TK opens his mouth to say thank you, but before he can do so, he hears a sharp gasp from beside him. He quickly turns to look at Marjan, noticing how her eyes are on the table in front of them, and he follows her gaze to see what caused such a reaction from her.

Sitting in front of him is his usual order, except this time there’s something different about it. Normally the chocolate and caramel syrup is added in a zig-zap pattern on top of the whipped cream, but today Carlos has chosen a different design. He can see, even from where he’s sitting back on the couch, the shape of a heart, clearly made by a well-practiced hand.

The sound is sucked from the room as he stares down at the cup, a buzzing white noise filling his ears as he struggles to keep breathing. Slowly, hoping not to break the spell, he raises his eyes to look up at Carlos. The barista stares back at him openly, his eyes wide, and TK feels all of his doubts disappear as he realizes that Carlos is offering him his heart, literally, on a tray. TK can see the fear behind his eyes, and that more than anything spurs him to action.

He jumps up from the couch, ignoring everyone and everything around them as he rushes towards Carlos, and he doesn’t waste a moment before diving forward to connect their lips in a long-awaited, bruising first kiss.

Initially, Carlos doesn’t respond, freezing against him, and TK fears he’s made a huge mistake. He goes to pull back, an apology already rising in his throat, but Carlos doesn’t let him get that far. He opens his mouth slightly, adjusting to slot their lips together, and TK’s whole body collapses against him.

TK has always been a hopeless romantic, and as soon as he gave in to his crush, more than a year ago, he began to dream about what it would be like to kiss Carlos. He’s laid in bed at night, his eyes closed, imagining how they would fit together, how they would hold one other. He’s had a lot of kisses in his life to draw from, so he thought he had a pretty good idea of what to expect.

He realizes now, as Carlos brings his hands up to press against his back, holding him closer, that he set the bar too low. As he brings his arms up around Carlos’s neck, his fingers gliding through his short hair at the back of his neck, he gets lost in the feeling of Carlos’s soft lips against his, the enthusiasm that the other man puts into kissing him taking his breath away.

Kissing Carlos feels like everything, all at once. It feels like breaking through the surface of the water after a deep dive; it feels like climbing to the highest point of the tallest mountain in the world, the freedom and fear climaxing simultaneously. With Carlos, kissing doesn’t feel like a part of something, a first step; it feels like the whole thing, every overwhelming part. It changes him to his core, every molecule inside of him biologically altered at the first taste of this man, this wonderful, glorious man. TK doesn’t know how he will ever go another day without kissing Carlos, thinking such an absence might be the end of him.

Physically, they have to break apart eventually, TK feeling light-headed without enough oxygen reaching his brain. Their lips separate, but no other part of them disconnects. They press their foreheads together, their noses rubbing against each other as they both struggle to catch their breath, and TK’s heart nearly bursts from the intimacy of their embrace.

Eventually, he’s reminded of their very public location when the bell on the front door rings out, signaling a new customer. TK huffs out a guilty laugh, feeling Carlos’s overheated skin against his cheek.

“I’m so sorry for kissing you at work, but I couldn’t wait another second,” he whispers, his voice cracking from the power of their kiss.

Carlos huffs out a laugh too, and TK can feel his warm breath on his face. “Don’t be sorry,” he says, his voice also affected, “I wanted you to kiss me.”

TK can’t help but to press forward again, reclaiming his lips for a second time. They keep it light, both fully aware how inappropriate their behavior is, but not being able to stop it. Now that they’ve broken through the barrier between them, it feels impossible to let go.

When they break the second kiss, they move back enough to see one another. TK can’t help but to let out a gasp at Carlos’s kiss-bruised lips, bright red in the soft light from the corner lamp. His cheeks are just as red and his pupils are blown wide, his brown irises nearly completely hidden around them. He looks so fucking hot, and TK can’t quiet believe that it’s all because of him.

“I really, really like you, Carlos,” he admits, gliding his fingers along the back of his neck. He feels Carlos shiver at the touch, bringing one of his hands up to cup his face, rubbing his thumb against his cheek.

“I way, way more than like you, TK,” Carlos confesses, and TK feels his hand shake against him.

TK isn’t expecting the tears that suddenly appear in his eyes, a smile taking up every inch of his face. “Really?” he gasps out, his voice muffled by what might be a sob.

Carlos’s face settles into an expression of soft affection, and TK thinks he might spot tears in his eyes, too. “Really,” he nods, his face open and warm.

TK moves to pull him into a tight hug, his heart demanding less space between them as he hooks his chin over Carlos’s shoulder. Carlos tucks his face into his neck, and TK swears he can feel those soft lips press against his skin. The sensation sends a chill through his entire body.

“I should probably get back to work before Grace fires me,” Carlos sighs after a minute, pulling away. TK watches as he reaches down to grab the tray, giving TK’s hand a gentle squeeze as he moves to return to the counter.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” TK blurts out the question, startling even himself, but he can’t be embarrassed about asking it, not now.

Carlos turns back to him, a beautiful smile taking over his face. He quickly returns to TK’s side, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I want to go on a lot of dates with you,” he says, casually linking their fingers together.

TK’s mouth drops open at the unfiltered honesty, tightening his grip on Carlos’s hand.

“How about tonight?” TK offers, wanting to spend time alone with Carlos as soon as possible.

“Yeah, tonight would be perfect,” Carlos agrees, and TK watches as a smirk transforms his face. “Can I make a request though?”

“Of course, anything.”

“Can we go somewhere other than a coffee shop?” Carlos teases, his eyes shining with laughter. “I’ll admit, I don’t really care for the taste that much.”

An unconfined laugh bubbles up from TK’s throat, cutting through the space between them. Carlos presses a final kiss to his lips, their smiles making it a little difficult, before he backs away, returning to work.

TK brings a hand up to his lips, feeling as if the ghost of their kisses will be imprinted on him for the rest of his life. His mind races with all of the possibilities of what they’ll become together, both tonight and all of the nights to come.

They are TK and Carlos, and their story is only just beginning.

☕☕☕☕

#tarlos #tarlos fic #tarlos fanfic #911 lone star #tk strand #carlos reyes #I wrote a thing #bellakitse #happy birthday friend!

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