#so I’m a bit buzzed now and it’s just gone 5pm

[tombsforteeth]

What a fucking day. Overslept for work (but managed to get there on time, thank you taxis), two rooms for accommodation fucked me over (coz we’re fully booked) and this rain hasn’t let up all day.

[nightfrostshadow]

Trust

Prompt by @nuttynutcycle

“Would you want to go out for coffee sometime?”

The villain perked up. “You mean like a date?”

“Yeah,” answered the hero, calculating exactly how long it would take the police to reach the coffee shop. “Exactly like a date.”

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

Villain’s face lit up with the most genuine smile hero had ever seen. He started to look a bit flustered so Hero grinned “Why, is this your first date?” she teased.

He looked up turning redder by the second. “Yes.”

Hero was taken aback. This was a side to the villain she had never seen before. She smiled thinking how easy it was to fool him. “Then see you at 5pm at the café today” With that she quickly left to inform the police about the time and venue.

Hero had reached the café earlier than Villain to make plans and set up a table for them outside in the little garden, she had also arranged for fairy lights to be hung up around them since it was evening it would look quite pretty. She shook her head thinking of how much effort she was putting into this date considering it was fake.

She had just finished the final touches after messaging the police when she looked up and saw villain enter the café. She glanced down at her watch. She smiled despite herself, it was exactly 5pm and Villain was on time and had an impeccable fashion sense. He looked stylish and quite cute too. Hero stopped herself. Since when did she think Villain looked cute? She reminded herself that it wasn’t a real date and she shouldn’t get distracted.

She led the unsuspecting Villain out to the back of the café which led to the little garden she had specially set up so the police would have no trouble surrounding Villain without disturbing the people inside the café.

Villain’s eyes lit up as he took in the little setup. Hero swore he practically bounded towards the table before pulling out her chair for her to sit first like a true gentleman.

For the first time that day her conscience started to prick her but she maintained her composure as he seated himself and they started discussing what they would order. It was soon decided and their food and drink came soon enough. She laughed while chatting with Villain. Before she knew it, they had finished all their food which granted was just snacks and a drink.

“Would you like some dessert? This particular café sells lovely brownies and ice cream. It’s their specialty.”

Villain grinned “I would never say no to dessert. Especially ice cream,” he said with that charming smile of his.

While their desert was being served Hero felt a buzz on her wrist, luckily her hands were on her on her lap and not on the table at that moment so Villain didn’t see it. She had almost forgotten that she had to notify the police and tell them when they were supposed to make an entrance.  She ignored the message for a while as she wanted to at least let villain finish his desert. She thought with a pang in her heart that this was the least she could do for him after tricking him.

She looked up as she saw villain looking at her with a concerned look on his face. She hadn’t realized she had been looking down at her wrist for quite some time.

“Are you alright? This tastes amazing by the way,” he said with a smile as he gestured towards their dessert, totally unsuspecting and trusting. “You should have yours before it melts.”

She put on a smile, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in her chest and the twisting of her stomach as she picked up her spoon and began to eat. She also quickly pressed the button on her watch to notify the police before she could change her mind.

Villain had just put down his spoon after finishing desert when he heard the footsteps but it was already too late, he was surrounded by the police and they all had their guns trained on him.

His heart shattered as he realized what had happened in a flash. He looked at Hero, his date who had betrayed him. He couldn’t feel anything except sadness and pain at that moment and he just quietly lifted his hands in surrender and went with them quietly.

Hero still sat at the table for quite some time even after Villain had been taken away, shocked, thinking of the look Villain had given her. It wasn’t one of anger but one of sadness and betrayal, one that spoke of the pain and loss of trust that he had placed in her. She suddenly realized it too late. She actually liked Villain and she had ruined their first date which had gone pretty well up until the moment she decided to hand Villain over to the police and ruined it.

She finally realized what she had to do. She couldn’t believe she was going to break Villain out of jail just when she had been the one to put him in. She swore under her breath as she quickly left the café.

Hero wasted no time as she reached the jail and quickly went down to Villain’s cell. It was the highest security one there was. She looked in Oh great he hadn’t been chained so that would make it easier for her. He had probably just been put in a few minutes ago.

“Hey!” she waved at Villain quietly trying to get his attention. She would have to time this perfectly since the guard would be back soon as she had managed to distract him with something that would hopefully keep him busy for about ten minutes

Villain looked up and she froze. The look in his eyes was different now, the pain and sadness was still there but it was muted, masked with a shield, a cold look that hid his feelings. He no longer would trust her, she realized with a sinking feeling.

She decided to not say the line she had planned to say “Do you trust me?” sounded ridiculous to her after what she had done to him.

She decided to say “I know you might not believe me but I’m going to get you out of here we have to hurry. Don’t worry I know exactly how to get out of here safely since I know exactly how to prevent people from escaping from all the possible ways. Who knew it would be useful for breaking people out too!”

Villain looked at her wearily but realizing she was the best and quickest way out of there he nodded and cooperated with her.

Within no time she managed to get him out of the cell and they were out of the compound within seven minutes and had three minutes to spare. Now that they were far away in a safe place she turned towards Villain “I’m really sorry about that but its safe now so you can go.”

Villain gave her a bitter smile as he gave her a curt nod and left without a word.

Hero sighed, she didn’t blame him but now it would be almost impossible for her to ask him on another date.

She looked at Villain’s forlorn retreating figure and decided to give him some time before she tried again. She had no idea how she would be able to get him to trust her again but she still wanted to give it a shot.

Little did she know that Villain had sealed his heart and decided never to trust anyone again as he walked away that day, he changed.

His true personality lay buried deep inside as he put on a cold mask and with no one to melt the barrier around him with warmth and kindness, that was the day he truly became a Villain.

[captain-jensen]

Big Fan

Tom Holland x reader

Summary: You’re a popular YouTuber and you get to interview Tom for his new movie. He invites you out for a couple of drinks with his friends because he confesses to being a fan of your videos. Fluff ensues.

Authors note: I just found this in my drafts so sorry if it seems choppy. There’s some very light cursing. 

       Today is the most exciting day of your life. You’ve been asked to interview the cast of Spider-Man for YouTube. As exciting as it is, you can’t stop thinking about everything that could go wrong. You’ve never interviewed anyone before. Talking to a camera while you do random stuff, that you can do. Talk to a famous person in a professional setting in front of a camera? That’s a no go. Yet, here you are, about to ask famous hot people questions about a movie you’ve haven’t even seen. You were given a list of questions by YouTube that had to be asked, and then you were given a list of topics that were acceptable to talk about. “There’s nothing that can go wrong” you tell yourself. You were basically given a script and all that was asked of you was to entertain the actor and make an interview that was fun to watch. It can’t be that hard right? Unless of course you end up entirely embarrassing yourself on camera in front of one of your biggest celebrity crushes ever. You push these intrusive thoughts out of your head in an effort to calm yourself and simultaneously hype yourself up. After having what felt like a miniature panic attack in the bathroom, you tidy up your makeup and hair and walk into the main area of the hotel room where the first interview of your day will take place. They decided to get you to interview Jacob Batalon first, then Marisa Tomei, then Zendaya, and finally Tom Holland. Spider-Man himself. 

       The first two interviews go well. You had fun with Jacob and you made Marisa laugh. Now that it’s time to interview Zendaya you start to feel those nerves creeping in once again. You ask Zendaya about all of her upcoming projects and try your hardest not to fangirl when she starts talking about Euphoria. You manage to make it through though and she seems pleased with the questions you asked her. Even though you were excited to meet Tom you were kind of hoping your interview with Zendaya would never end, just so that you could avoid all the nerves of talking to Tom. After leaving the room where Zendaya was you get ushered right into the next room with the man himself. Composing yourself as quickly as you could you walk in and see Tom having his hair touched up. He greets you with the warmest smile ever as your crew works on setting up the camera and lights. He stands to shake your hand as you introduce yourself. “Hi I’m Y/N Y/L/N, nice to meet you”

“Oh no way! I watch your videos all the time when I’m waiting for flights and stuff” That’s when you freeze in your tracks. 

“You’re joking!” you exclaim, trying to make sense of what just came out of Spider-Mans’ mouth. 

“No, not at all. I love when you talk about films and break them down piece by piece. I use your videos as education essentially” He admits, laughing a little sheepishly. 

“Wow, well I’m very flattered, thank you so much!” You reply, trying your best to remain professional. For almost the entire interview you both go back and forth talking about several films other than his own. You tried hard to get him to talk about the new Spider-Man movie, but he always found a way to cycle back to a video you made about a certain movie he loved. After the camera and lights are turned off Tom quickly stands to get your attention before you bid your farewell. 

“Hey, Y/N, some friends and I are heading to bar later tonight if you want to meet us there. We could talk more about a bunch of movies and your videos!” He says excitedly. 

“Yeah that sounds like a lot of fun!” you reply nonchalantly.

“Well let’s exchange numbers then and I’ll text you with all the details.” Tom proposes shyly. You notice out of the corner of your eye that Harry and Harrison were slyly giggling amongst themselves and watching yours and Toms’ interaction unfold. You enter your phone number into Toms’ phone and he does the same to yours. “It was really great meeting you Y/N, I can’t wait to talk more later” Tom says, quickly glancing at his shoes. 

“Likewise, it was a pleasure” With a shake of your hand a second of eye contact you turn and walk out of the room. Unable to contain your laughter of excitement your crew just watches in amusement and offer you light-hearted congratulations. 

    Later that evening, at around 5pm you get a text from a contact that says “Tom” with a little spiderweb emoji beside it. Smirking, you open it to see the details for the night, agreeing to meet at the bar at around 9pm. Which gives you plenty of time to get ready, hype yourself up a bit, and do a bit of a vlog on your snap story for your followers. Although you were very meek with the details of your plans for the night, your fans were able to deduce that you were definitely meeting with someone famous since they knew you had been doing a lot of press tours lately. 

Taking one last look in the mirror you say to yourself “You’re Y/N fucking Y/L/N. Tom Holland is a fan of YOUR channel. You can do anything” That courage quickly dissipates though as you near the bar. Holy shit, how were you possibly going to converse with Tom Holland and his friends ALL NIGHT? There was no way you were going to be interesting compared to all of these people. All you do is make Youtube videos about movies. When you got inside the bar your body was buzzing. Scanning the room you lock eyes with Tom almost immediately and he jumps out of his seat smiling and waving you over. You make your way over to him and he pulls you into an embrace, which took you by surprise, however you reciprocate almost immediately. Turning to the table you see that there’s no-one else there. Giving you a worried look Tom quickly turns and says “This isn’t weird is it? Everyone else isn’t gonna be here for another hour. I wanted to be able to have an uninterrupted conversation with you for a bit.”

“Tom Holland, did you trick me into a date?” You say suspiciously, trying to cooly play off the fact that you were now going to spend the next hour alone with Tom talking and drinking. 

“Well that depends. Would it be awkward if I did?” He asks hesitantly

“No not awkward, you just could have asked me straight up” You say quickly, not knowing where this sudden boost of confidence is coming from. 

“Well I’ll remember that for next time” Tom says smugly. You order your drinks and get to talking and laughing. The hour goes by in 5 minutes and you realize that you guys barely talked about movies the whole time. You instead spent the 60 minutes talking about eachothers home towns and families. He asked you about your passion for films, and you asked him about his hundreds of hobbies. You found your nerves dissipating rapidly and they were instead replaced by butterflies and fireworks. Even when everyone else walked in and joined you 2 at the table Tom kept his gaze on you. Watching you interact with his friends and the way your face would light up when you laughed especially hard at his jokes. Tom could feel the seed in his stomach growing. He was quickly torn out of his thoughts when he heard Harrison speak the words “Hey Y/N wanna know something funny?”

“Go on then” You reply

“Tom has had the biggest crush on you for months. He’s always watching your videos, telling us about your videos, watching the films you recommend, making us watch them with him, and then making us watch your video about said film. It’s been almost non-stop for months now” Harrison admits, making Tom put his head in his hands in embarrassment and making you blush furiously. Not knowing what to make of the situation, and being slightly buzzed at this point you respond with a simple thank you and a small, shy giggle. Looking down at your phone and deciding to try and dismiss the situation. Harrison wouldn’t let it go though, not being able to watch his friend be so shy around a girl. “In fact, when you exchanged numbers earlier Tom couldn’t stop smiling and talking about how excited he was, go on, tell her Tom” 

Tom gives you a sorry and shy look before finally deciding to speak up and say “I told you I was a big fan. I just didn’t plan on saying all of that at once” he gave Harrison a warning look while a dark blush crept up his neck and cheeks.

“It’s ok. That’s really sweet Tom” You say. Wanting to make him feel better about the situation you give him an honest smile. Deciding to drop the subject, everyone moves onto their own conversations. You and Tom couldn’t stop stealing glances at eachother for the rest of the night though. Before you know it, last call has come and gone and you all stand outside waiting for cabs. Before you can manage to hail one though, Tom pulls you aside asking to speak with you. 

“I’m really sorry about Harrison earlier. He can be such a div.” He rubs the back of his neck for comfort.

“It’s really ok Tom. I was happy to hear it honestly. Being such a fan of yourself I never felt more flattered” 

“Well I want you to know that I’m not just a fan of your videos anymore Y/N. I honestly really like you. If you’d like to, I’d love to take you to lunch tomorrow.” Tom Holland turns red for what seems like the hundredth time that night. You however weren’t that much better, considering your own blush was keeping you warm in the cool night air. 

“I’d love that” You say, and you both let out a synchronised breath you didn’t know you were holding in. With that you lean in and give him a kiss on the cheek. His smooth skin was comforting against your lips. When you pull away you look in his eyes to see a stunned expression seeping out of his dazed eyes. Then without warning his lips are on yours. It only lasts a second though because you then hear Harrison calling to you saying he was able to wave down a cab for you, clearly wanting to mess with Tom. “Text me tomorrow” you say sweetly to Tom as you slowly back away. 

“I promise I’ll text you tonight!” He yells after you. 

“That works too!” With that the cab door closes and it’s only then that you realise how laboured your breath had been all night. Trying to calm yourself you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. Smiling instantly you pull it out to see a message from the one and only and it reads 

Do you want to do breakfast instead ;) xx

You respond asking when and where and you just shake your head smiling. Knowing that tonight is going to be long. 

[ronnie-azumane]

Flower Rings

Hello everyone! I'm here with another Anisylum collab! This is the first time writing for my OG anime husband, so please go easy on me. But yeah! I hope y'all enjoy and check out the other works from the other creators participating!

CW: Abuse/beating, fluffy hurt/comfort, ATTACK ON TITAN MANGA SPOILERS, mentions of trauma, suicide, and death.

Life in the ghetto wasn’t a walk in the park. Sure, life could be worse, (Y/N) could be going hungry at night, slowly turning into skin and bones. (Y/N) could be shivering the night away in a flimsy tent with a single blanket to keep warm.

Although it’s a little hard to be grateful for what you have when it feels like the oppressor is always watching your every move.

It doesn’t take a genius to see the lack of justice in these ghettos provided by the Marleyan regime, however, young (Y/N) didn’t pay attention to her oppressors as much, they’re only a child after all. Why would they even want to be concerned about politics when the neighbors are playing a game of kickball?

Almost like clockwork, every week at precisely 5pm, the children born in the ghetto would gather in a courtyard and play kickball, with the ball being an old ball accidentally thrown over the fence years ago and the bases marked by old linens.

Kids of all ages gathered as usual at the court yard to divide out the teams and begin their game of ball. (Y/N) wasn’t the youngest there, but at seven years old, they were still young and scrawny, so it was no surprise that (Y/N) was one of the last ones picked.

(Y/N) sighed in relief, however, when they saw that Reiner was on their team. Reiner was three years older than (Y/N), and pretty much tied to their hip. Since both their mothers were friends growing up, they always had playdates together, playing with various figures and creating these elaborate plots to go along with them.

“We’re on the same team? Yes!” Reiner celebrates, jumping around excitedly as any ten year old would.

“You’re only celebrating because you’re too chicken to face me,” (Y/N) teased, sticking their tongue out.

A succession of ‘am not’s and ‘am to’s was promptly stopped when one of the older kids shouted that the game was about to start. Team Black would be kicking first while Team White would pitch.

(Y/N)’s favorite part of the game was kicking, so finding out that the Black Team was kicking first was music to their ears. They ran to the line, getting as close to the front as they could. Reiner held back, as he preferred catching the ball and running fast to get someone out.

(Y/N) was finally up to kick. Team Black had an out and kids on second and third base. If they scored, their team would get their first point.

The ball bounced a slight bit as it made its way toward (Y/N). (Y/N) wound back their leg and hit the ball back, aiming in between the second and third base. The ball flew and (Y/N) sprinted to first base.

What (Y/N) failed to realize was that Jameson, the eight year old boy that had a personal goal of making every day miserable for (Y/N), was waiting by first base.

As they ran toward the base, Jameson positioned himself to where his foot would ‘accidently’ get in the way of (Y/N)’s footing. Sure enough, (Y/N) stepped on his foot, causing them to lose their balance and fall to the ground before hitting the base.

“What the hell, (Y/N), you stepped on my foot!” Jameson shouted, landing a kick in (Y/N)’s side. (Y/N) yelped in pain as they curled into themself.

“You put your foot there on purpose,” (Y/N) sniffled as pain-filled tears leaked from their eyes.

“So what if I did? You still should have avoided it,” Jameson landed another kick to their side.

Reiner, who was zoned out looking at a bee buzzing around, snapped back to reality when he heard (Y/N) yelp in pain in the distance. Before he could think, he found himself running over to the two and punching Jameson square in the face.

Before Jameson could retaliate, Reiner picked up (Y/N) from the ground and ran away from the game, carrying them on his back. Deciding it was not worth the effort, Jameson let them run off as he got back to his game, but not before the team captain of the day switched him to outfield as punishment.

With (Y/N) on his back, Reiner ran to their self proclaimed happy place, if you could call anywhere in the ghetto happy. Near the entrance gate, there was a patch of grass where wildflowers grow, giving them a taste of the natural world that was unknown to them within the walls of the ghetto. He set them down and plopped next to their shuttering frame.

“How are you feeling, (Y/N), are you hurt? Do we need to go to the doctor?” Reiner asked.

“I’m hurt, but I don’t want to go to the doctor.”

“Are you still afraid that the doctor is going to give you a shot?” Reiner teased.

“Shut up! Needles are scary!” (Y/N) whined, causing Reiner to giggle.

Soon enough, the pain in (Y/N)’s side began to fade, and they focused themselves on making a flower crown while Reiner watched the Marleyan soldiers outside the gate train.

“My mama wants me to be a warrior, but I’m not too sure that's what I want to do,” Reiner sighed, lying all the way back on his back.

“How come? Isn’t becoming a warrior one of the best things an Eldian can do for Marley?” (Y/N) asked.

“Yeah, but that would mean I would have to work really hard, while buttheads like Jameson would get to play and make fun of you. It wouldn’t be fair!”

“Why are boys like Jameson so mean anyway? My mommy told me that it just meant that he liked me, but why would someone be mean to someone they liked?” (Y/N) asked.

“Is that a thing?” Reiner asks.

“That’s what mommy says,” (Y/N) finished their flower crown and unceremoniously flopped it onto Reiner’s head, earning a giggle from him. “I wouldn’t want to marry a guy like Jameson, I would want to marry a guy like you, Reiner, who’s nice to me.”

“Then how about we make a promise?” Reiner asked.

“A promise?”

“Yeah, like, we promise to marry each other now, and once we get big we actually do it?” Reiner’s cheeks were now bright red.

“Yeah! I like that! I promise to marry you, Reiner,” (Y/N) extended a pinky out.

Reiner crudely plucked a flower from the ground and tied the stem around (Y/N)’s finger. Reiner’s fingers were chubby and unskilled, so the flower ring didn’t turn out as pretty as the crown, yet (Y/N) still stared at it.

“And I promise to marry you, (Y/N).”

XXX

Reiner ended up joining the Warriors a few years later, to the dismay of (Y/N). The flower ring had since shriveled up beyond repair, but (Y/N) refused to let go of their promise, thinking that if the flower stayed in their possession, it would guarantee Reiner’s safe return home.

However, the mission that was estimated to take the four warriors a year or two to complete turned into a major failure with rumors stating that only one of them was making it home. However, (Y/N) didn’t have the time to mourn her lost friend, Marley was still causing conflict in both the battle front and the home front.

It wouldn’t be until after the Rumbling ended when (Y/N) would meet up with Reiner again. He was in the area negotiating peace with some other nations, and decided a late lunch and catch-up session with his childhood friend was in order.

“So, how was going through puberty like on an island without modern medicine?” (Y/N) asked shamelessly.

“What happened to hello?” Reiner asked, causing (Y/N) to erupt in laughter.

“I’m just sad I didn’t get to witness voice-crack Reiner,” (Y/N) wiped a tear from their eye, causing Reiner to groan.

They then began to catch up, retelling all their experiences from the past thirteen years. Reiner went into detail as to what it was like training with the man who almost killed all of humanity, his trauma, and even his suicide attempt while (Y/N) retold moments of agony in the ghetto, their dad getting drafted for one of the countless wars, and even confessed that they and Jameson dated at one point.

“You! And him!” Reiner stuttered.

“Apparently my mom was right, Jameson pretended he hated me because he couldn’t decipher his own feelings. Dumped his ass a while ago though, he started spending all his money on alcohol.”

“So I’m assuming you’re not seeing anyone?” Reiner asked.

“Not at the moment, why do you ask?”

“Well, (Y/N), I may have had ulterior motives to this lunch,” Reiner pulled out a small box from his pocket and set it on the table, inviting (Y/N) to open it up. Inside was a ring, with the centerpiece shaped as the flower that he tied onto (Y/N)’s finger all those years ago.

“What is this?” (Y/N) stuttered.

“You probably don’t remember, but one day, I gave you a flower ring with a promise. I’m sure it’s long gone by now.”

“Yeah, lost it in the rumbling. Are you really proposing to me right now?”

“No no no! This is just a reminder of that promise we made that afternoon. That promise helped me push through all the hardships I faced,” Reiner flailed his arms a bit, getting slightly flustered.

“So, a promise ring?”

“I promised I’d marry you, didn’t I?” Reiner asked as he pulled out his pinky. Smiling, (Y/N) slipped on the ring and interlocked their pinky with his.

“You did, Reiner, you did.”

[cotncandyboifics]

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?

AO3 Link

My Main Masterpost

Pairing(s): Romantic Dukexiety

Word count: 6.9k (Remus would be proud)

Story summary: A pseudo-songfic; 5 times Remus called Virgil high, and one time Virgil called Remus high.

Content Warning: Marijuana, Characters high on Marijuana, Description of the experience of being high on marijuana, Food, descriptions of eating, descriptions of preparing food, vague anxiety descriptions, insomnia, cursing, Remus Being Remus,(let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: this is just. dorky fluff stuff. Idek lol. Enjoy

...

Virgil grimaced vaguely at his phone, which had begun to buzz periodically. More specifically; Virgil was glaring at the displayed name at the top of the screen, communicating who was currently calling him.

TrashMan 42069 is calling...

Remus never called Virgil. As in... never never. And even if he did, it was 7 am; Virgil sincerely doubted that Remus I-wake-up-at-2-pm-every-day Prince had ever been awake at this time of morning in his life.

The call didn't stop after 5 buzzes, and so Virgil picked his phone up, hurriedly accepting the call and pressing the phone to his face.

"uuum, hiiii...." Remus drawled from the other end of the line. Virgil scoffed under his breath. "I'll have a.... extra large cheese pizza, and another extra large with... extra anchovies...." Remus continued. Virgil genuinely couldn't tell whether Remus thought he was actually talking to a Pizza parlor employee or not, but more pertinently, he was very much disconcerted by the way Remus was acting. He had half a mind to ask if he'd hit his head on something, but... Virgil was gradually growing used to Remus' antics, and every time he'd asked out of his own anxieties in the past, Remus had been More Than Fine. He pushed his nerviness aside with a heavy sigh.

"Re, what are you doing?" his voice came out a bit husky, and Virgil realized this was the first time he'd spoken that day.

Remus didn't reply for a few long moments. Of course, this had exactly nothing to do with the fact that he was having a gay panic over the sound of Virgil's morning voice, which - again - was decidedly not happening.

"Haay Virge," Remus scarcely strung his words together, and they fell on top of each other as they rolled off his tongue in a quite klutzy fashion. It was almost soothing, in its way. "I thought if I pretended that you... that I was... that I thought you were a pizza man, then I'd forget to do... why I called you." Remus scrunched his nose to himself, taking his time to find his words, but eventually he got there. Virgil had been struck with realization part way through Remus' rambling, and was now scowling as if Remus could hear his facial expression through the phone.

"Remus, are you seriously high right now?" Virgil hissed.

"I mean... I think so... I definitely remember..." he pointedly enunciated each syllable of 'definitely remember,' before seemingly getting distracted by his thoughts. Virgil cleared his throat to prompt him. "...uhhhh... I don't wanna call you. Why did I... think that was...good." Virgil couldn't tell if Remus was talking to himself or not.

"Dude, go take a shower and... like, drink some water or something. I'll see you at work later. Please come in a better mental state than you're in now." Virgil hung up, setting his phone back down on his desk face-down, resuming his script read-through of the next production being put on at the theater he worked for.

Several hours later, Virgil was adjusting a few bolts on a light fixture, one of many all lined up on the long bar that he'd lowered from the fly deck earlier. He and Remus were stage technicians, and had both worked at this theater together for nearly two years now.

Remus burst through the set of doors off stage left, arms wide and his custom green tool belt slung over one shoulder like a sash. He bowed a bit dramatically to the stage and everyone on it (which, at the moment, was only Virgil; they were the only two in the theater, since Virgil regularly showed up early and Remus was here early too for once for... some reason) before stepping in long strides toward a burnt out light fixture, a few feet away from Virgil.

"You good?" Virgil murmured, feigning intense focus on a particular few wires. Remus had learned by now that Virgil was a man of few words and many thoughts; there was always a lot more to what he was saying than the small string of words he poured out.

"Heh. Sorry about that. I woke up in a funk, and though a wake and bake might... help. Didn't anticipate calling... you, though." he rubbed the back of his neck a bit sheepishly, focusing his line of sight on the company logo branded into the lighting fixture. "Can't say it won't happen again though! If I call you when I'm that stoned it means I really, really like you," Remus waggled his eyebrows, winking (specifically to highlight his sarcasm - a wink was a telltale sign that Remus' words were entirely a joke) at an utterly deadpan Virgil.

"Sure." Virgil paused for a moment. "Why're you here so early though?"

"Huh?" Remus replied, finishing twisting the bulb out of the fixture before looking up at Virgil, who was now presenting his phone screen to Remus, showing him the time. "Damn! High me can get punctuality! I thought it was three, not  two... I was wondering why you were the only one here!" Remus had resumed his adjusting of the light fixture, hunkered over and partially upside down in a way that made Virgil's stomach churn. He only grunted in reply.

...

A recent sound design project had Virgil and Remus talking a lot more than usual - nearly every day. Virgil thought Remus would be a massive pain in the ass to work with, but he was a surprisingly diligent project partner. His ideas were often... eccentric, and at times too far-fetched, but they served as an excellent foundation. They clashed well with Virgil's taste and general groundedness (by extension, a minuscule helping of insecurity) that he brought to the table. They'd worked together over discord for the last few days, voice chatting and messaging through brainstorming sessions and developing their project.

It was 5pm, and Virgil was just beginning chopping some potatoes for a mash dinner when a message notification popped up on his phone.

TrashMan 42069 im tiiiired. gotta get up early to head into the theater, can we work tmrw mornin instead of tn ? wanna have an early night

Virgil smirked to himself, typing out a response.

since when do you sleep before 1am

but like, go off ig

see ya in the ams

Remus never responded, and Virgil resumed his chopping, and soon was plopping the potato portions into a pre-simmering pot.

Night arrived and fell entirely, leaving Virgil alone with his thoughts in bed, staring at the ceiling desperately as if it would put him to sleep. His bouts of insomnia made for horrible company, and yet another reminder of just how awfully lonely he truly was. He rolled onto his side, facing his bedside table just as his phone lit up and started buzzing.

Remus. Again. Odd. And it was... 11pm, according to the bleary text in the top corner of Virgil's phone screen. Not too bad, I might get to sleep by 2, Virgil noted to himself. He accepted the call before his drowsy brain could think through the decision.

"Shit, hi," Remus breathed. The usual sharp edge of his brash voice was gone, leaving soft, rolling words in its wake. Virgil sighed to himself.

"Hi."

"Did I awaken you from the sleep? I didn't think you'd answer..." Virgil recognized the drawl in Remus' voice then, but he didn't mind it so much. He was too tired to be grumpy about this.

"No, I couldn't sleep. I thought you were having an early night?" Virgil ran his fingers through his hair, rolling back onto his back.

"Ah... right... I told you that..." Remus spoke slowly, as if carrying each word, each syllable the way a mother carries her child. Virgil smiled softly into the darkness. "I was feeling like shit, so... I was just gonna, toke up. Knew I... wouldn't be able to... do any of the project... like this."

"Gotcha," Virgil mumbled. He had closed his eyes, letting himself ease into the sound of Remus' uncharacteristically gentle voice.

Remus started humming on the other end of the line, and that only proved to relax Virgil more. He felt himself grow heavy in the bed, limbs going slack and muscles and tendons untensing.

"Are you still alive?" Remus spoke suddenly. Virgil hummed.

"Yeah, I think so," Virgil said. "Your humming is putting me to sleep," he laughed lightly. Remus grew silent. "Uh, that's not a bad thing," Virgil resolved, "I have a hard time... sleeping, sometimes. Nothing usually helps. That's... uh, helping. If you wanna keep... humming, or talking..." As he spoke, Virgil realized just how weird what he was saying - what he was asking for - truly was. He cleared his throat. "Nevermind."

"I have nothing better to do right now, I can hum you to sleep, Virge," Remus' careful voice replied, ever so slowly. "If that's... what... you meant."

"Um," Virgil chewed on his hoodie sleeve absent-mindedly. "Yeah," he finally huffed, "I'd... like that."

Virgil anticipated a lot more awkwardness at this entire situation from Remus. But Remus was a generally oblivious person to awkwardness, seemingly especially so when he was stoned. He almost immediately resumed his humming, and Virgil was out like a light less than ten minutes later.

"Virgie? Did you go... fall into the sleep?" Remus asked after a while. When he was met with silence other than subtle, even breaths, he smiled to himself. He'd helped someone, even while he was like this. He truly didn't want to be doing anything else right now, so he just kept humming into the phone for a while. Maybe it'll help Virgil sleep even better.

The thoughts that an intoxicated mind produces truly are an enigma.

...

Remus and Virgil's sound design project was one of three being proposed to the directors and head technicians for the next production. The three were created as presentations, just the general idea of the design put together so that the one chosen of the three could be put into proper production by the entire sound team.

Virgil's and Remus' won.

They celebrated by indulging in a pizza lunch together before they were to head into work. A large, half pepperoni and half anchovies.

"Are those things actually good, or do you just eat them because everyone else thinks they're gross?" Virgil asked, chasing the floppy end of his next slice with his mouth. Remus grinned with a glint in his eye that Virgil knew all too well; it meant one thing, and one thing only. Mischief.

"Whah if ih's bof?" Remus spoke through his mouthful of anchovy pizza. Virgil scrunched his nose, punching Remus in the shoulder.

"Chew your food and don't talk with your mouth full, that's hecka nasty dude," Virgil laughed. Remus rolled his eyes in a very unconvincing manner, considering he was still smiling.

"Yef, mom," Remus spoke again through his unfinished mouthful. Virgil shoulder bumped him, and finally took the first bite of his next slice.

Not a week later, Virgil woke up rather late. Well, late for him; around 7am. He slapped a hand to his forehead, sitting up a little too fast. He set his hands on the bed beside himself to try and fight the onset of dizziness. After a few deep breaths and shaking his head and hair out, he reached for his phone.

No notifications, other than 2 missed calls from Remus, at 3:12am. Virgil sighed, laughing to himself slightly. He opened his messaging app.

why do u only call me when ur high lmao

...

Virgil was at the grocery store, milling through the dairy aisle, when his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He was surprised to see Remus' contact as the displayed caller ID, although not that surprised. Remus had called Virgil a few times while he wasn't high since Virgil had sent that message, usually to discuss theater-related things. Though, it wasn't like him to call at 8 in the morning. Virgil pressed the answer button, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hey Re, what's up?" Virgil said as he started checking the expiration dates on a few cartons of heavy whipping cream.

"Virgieee... Are you walking around with no shoes on?" Remus' voice was calm and subdued.

"Uh-" Virgil was so caught off guard by the question -and the petname- that he literally looked down at his feet to check. Nope, he'd definitely put on his black high tops that morning. "No? I'm at the grocery store. Wh... what?"

"I saw someone," Remus blurted, speaking slowly. Oh, right. Virgil's lips tightened into a annoyed-and-disappointed expression. Of course he's just baked again. "They looked like you, kinda... no purple hair... but jacket- or, i mean, sweater... uhhhm, no... what's it called?"

"My hoodie?" Virgil offered, glancing down at his purple patchwork hoodie.

"Yeah, yeah, that," Remus drew in a long heavy breath. "they had a hoodie." Remus stopped then, as if awaiting Virgil's explanation expectantly. Virgil scoffed.

"So. You saw someone walking around with no shoes on, who looked kind of like me only based on the fact that they were wearing a hoodie?" Virgil recited.

"Well, yeah!" Remus said as if offended that Virgil needed to ask. "They were black shoes, and... and the hoodie was... just like your black plaid one."

"The one that I like... never wear? How do you even... have you even seen me wear that?" Virgil didn't know why he was asking; he must have if he knew of it.

"You did," Remus started slowly, "one time. The pizza time. Said your other one was dirty." Remus spoke like a small child who was being scolded and felt really bad for what they'd done. "And I thought... maybe you'd... dyed your hair back. I don't know why." Virgil sighed.

"Okay? Well, I promise I have my shoes on, and my hair is still purple, and I'm not wearing that hoodie today. I'm at the grocery store right now." Virgil's voice was harsh and quick, and he immediately felt guilt drop into his stomach like a brick. He had no real reason to be this cross with Remus... he was just a bit cranky that morning. "Can I... pick you up anything while I'm here?" Virgil immediately cringed at his attempt at amendment. What a weird thing to say-

"Ooh! Are you at Trader Joe's?" Remus' voice had a newfound excitement. Virgil smiled to himself, glad that his fumbled recovery wasn't really very fumbled, thanks to Remus'... Remus-y-ness. "They have these chocolate truffles that are soooo good..."

Remus gave moderately incoherent directions to where the truffles were shelved, though Virgil knew his way around the store enough that it didn't matter. After a few minutes, he came upon a small red carboard box with cursive gold lettering and a picture of a chocolate truffle on the front.

"Found them. I... text me your address? I can be over in... well, soon. I guess I don't know where you live." Virgil invited himself over extremely awkwardly.

"You got it, sunshine! See you soon," Remus' tone was a lot lighter and he spoke more quickly and sharply, as he did when he wasn't stoned out of his mind. Perhaps the prospect of having his favorite chocolate truffles had granted him some mental clarity.

The call ended, and moments later, two texts came through from Remus. The first was an address, as promised. The second left Virgil with a familiar sense of blind confusion.

ill start heating the milk

Virgil slid his phone back into his pocket, humming to himself. He'd gotten all the items on his grocery list already, so he headed to checkout. Soon after, he was loading a couple bags into the back seat of his car, setting the two boxes of truffles for Remus on the passenger seat as he strapped in.

The drive was surprisingly short to Remus'; less than ten minutes. He triple checked the address when he pulled up to a three story Victorian house, three doors lined up at the top of a set of marble steps.

He took a breath or two, staring down at the boxes of truffles in his hands and reassessing his situation. You're standing in front of Remus' house like a massive dork because you felt bad for getting annoyed at him on the phone. You decided completely on a whim to bring him some chocolate - of all things, but at least he's the one who specifically asked for it - and show up to his house???? his house. Yeah, this totally isn't weird at all.

Virgil took the steps two at a time, ringing the doorbell at the door farthest to the right. He heard the chime from inside, followed shortly by a shrill screech. A few moments later, there was stomping sounds, and Remus came into view through the window on the door, trampling down the stairs like an eight year old rushing to an ice cream truck. He made it to the door, unlocking it and flinging it open.

"VIRGIE!" Remus yelped, looking ready to bear hug Virgil, but was quickly distracted into marveling over the boxes of truffles Virgil was clinging to his chest. "You bought two!? Gods, this is better than Christmas! Get in here," Remus stepped behind the door, allowing Virgil to step inside.

"Did you... screech, a minute ago?" Virgil asked, looking around. He and Remus were standing in what served as a tiny, tiny foyer, a small rectangle of flooring that gave direct way to a rather large flight of wooden stairs. Virgil could see a shoe cubby and coat rack at the top of the steps, and started stepping up them cautiously as Remus closed the door behind him.

"Yeah. People usually can't hear if I say words, like 'COMING!', so I just kinda... scream. It works!" Remus was tromping up the steps a few stairs below him, and Virgil quickened his pace.

"Got it..."

Virgil slipped his shoes off at the top, stuffing them in the cubby. "See? Shoes," he gestured to the shoes now fit snug in one of the cubbies. Remus smiled a bit too wide, nodding his head harshly. "I also don't have that hoodie on today," Virgil spread his arms, displaying his usual patchwork hoodie.

"I'm mainly glad your hair is still purple. It looks h- I mean, I like it." Remus coughed slightly to himself before stepping around Virgil, starting to sock-slide down the hardwood floor hall. "Kitchen's through here! The milk should be ready!"

Virgil laughed to himself, stepping into the hall to follow Remus' trail. He came upon a slightly ajar door, and seeing a glimpse of a stovetop, he slid into the room.

"I also made some whipped cream!" Remus gestured behind himself at a bowl of whipped cream on the counter as he stirred at a simmering pot of milk.

"What's... what's it for?" Virgil asked slowly, feeling like he missed something entirely.

"Oh! Right," Remus seemed to realize he hadn't filled Virgil in. "The truffles are so frickin good by themselves, but I discovered - sort of by accident, don't worry about it - that they make the best hot chocolate. And I... well, I figured we could have some!" Remus spun around at the last part, saucer of milk in hand and smiling a bit maniacally at Virgil. He stepped over to the counter where there were two mugs beside the bowl of whipped cream. "Bring them things on over here. This show can't go on without the starring role."

Virgil shuffled over to Remus, setting the truffles down beside the whipped cream bowls. He felt the need to speak, but couldn't think of any suitable words.

"one or two? I usually do two, I like mine real rich," Remus said, tearing open one of the boxes of truffles.

"Two," Virgil coughed. Remus smiled brightly at him again.

Virgil observed Remus' process. He plopped two truffles into the bottom of each mug - in the process, popping one into his mouth and offering another to Virgil, who accepted - before pouring the steaming milk over them, nearly to the brim of both mugs. Virgil hadn't expected the truffles to float, but there were two bobbing brown balls rolling around on the surface of the steaming milk in each mug. Remus retrieved a small spoon, stirring gingerly as the truffles rapidly shrunk and dissipated into the darkening milk.

"Will you grab the chocolate syrup? It's in the door of the fridge," Remus commented, beginning to spoon whipped cream onto the surface of the hot chocolate. "Oh, and- nevermind, I got it." Remus reached into a drawer beside him, pulling out a small cheese grater.

Virgil returned with the chocolate syrup, setting it beside Remus' arm.

"Check this out," Remus said, pulling another truffle from the box. He started grating it over the whipped cream dollops, and it gently snowed chocolate shavings. "Isn't it pretty?" Remus glanced at Virgil as he switched mugs.

"Yeah," Virgil breathed, watching the little flakes fall and settle on the surface of the whipped cream.

Virgil felt himself becoming infinitely more relaxed and less anxious the longer he basked in Remus' presence. It had always been this way with him, although maybe it was slightly amplified now that they were alone. He leaned himself on Remus, chin on his shoulder. Remus didn't react, other than softening his movements significantly, as though he were afraid he'd scare Virgil away.

"Yes, yes, yes! Man, this is the good stuff!" Remus exclaimed as he squirted a trail of chocolate syrup over the flakey rain on the whipped cream mountains. Virgil chuckled, reaching for the mug nearest him. "Hey! Not yet!" Remus batted his hand away lightly.

"What else could you possibly want on hot chocolate? Come on, it's getting cold," Virgil whined. Remus only smirked.

"Pantry, top shelf, you'll know it when you see it," He spoke, glancing at the cupboard door a few paces away. Virgil stepped toward the pantry cautiously, opening the door slowly. There, presented proudly on the top shelf, was a bag of mini marshmallows.

"Oh fuck yeah," Virgil reached up, realizing he was far too short to reach the bag. "Uh, one sec," he said, stepping entirely into the pantry, reaching up with all his might. Even stretching as far as he could, he barely reached the base of the top shelf.  Remus chuckled from over by the mugs.

"Here, let me help." Remus came up behind him, making to reach over Virgil's head just as Virgil tried to step out of the pantry and out of Remus' way. Virgil essentially walked right into Remus' chest, face to face with his stubbled Adam's apple as he reached for the mallows easily.

Virgil was frozen in place, feeling his face grow hot. Remus looked down at him, suddenly realizing their physical predicament.

"Shit! Sorry!" Remus stepped back, mallows in hand, giving Virgil more than enough room to step out.

"s'fine, don't worry," Virgil mumbled, cheeks red and staring wide-eyed at the floor. Remus laughed a bit nervously, stepping back over to the mugs and beckoning for Virgil to follow.

Once their mugs were properly marshmallow'd (although not s'more'd; neither wanted to go full Ned Flanders on this rainy Saturday afternoon) Remus led Virgil out of the kitchen and further down the hall, to the door at the end which opened up into Remus' bedroom.

Virgil didn't know what he was expecting Remus' personal living space to look like, but whatever it was it wasn't this. There was a very cozy-looking bed that took up most of the floorspace, and a very soft patterned rug at the foot. Against the far wall, beside a wide windowsill, sat an equally cozy-looking loveseat. There were blankets and pillows absolutely everywhere, crowding the loveseat, covering the bed and turning the windowsill into a cozy sitting nook. There was no other furniture, aside from a rustic-looking wooden bedside table that matched a small, overstuffed bookshelf. The walls were entirely covered from floor to  ceiling with posters, art pieces, the like; but more than anything, sketches. Scores upon scores of sketches covered every wall, pinned up with colorful tacks and a certain few of them connected to others with  small segments of colored string. As well, strung up on some of the hardier tacks were a few strings of fairy lights. Those, plus the salt lamp set on the bedside table made for some extremely lovely mood lighting.

"Woah," was all Virgil could say as he looked around in wonder.

"This is where the magic happens," Remus shoulder shimmied, sidling around Virgil to sit cross-legged on his bed, beginning to nurse his cocoa as he set down the boxes of truffles. Apparently they were far too precious to keep in the kitchen, where Remus' brother could very well steal them.

"Yeah..." Virgil stepped up to a particularly large sketch, one whose tack was connected with string to several others. Something occurred to him. "Are these..." He gestured vaguely at the walls, "are these all yours?"

"All the sketches, yeah," Remus breathed, hiding behind his mug as he took a large sip. He watched Virgil over the brim as the man stared in complete awe.

"That's..." Virgil couldn't think of the right words, and so drew a large sip of his own cocoa. Remus was right, the truffles made for an incredible hot chocolate. He sighed slightly, smiling to himself.

Remus finished his cocoa, tilting his head back to slurp at the residue and remaining whipped cream as he leaned back on his bed slightly. Virgil smirked behind his own mug, licking at his whipped cream.

Remus set his mug beside the salt lamp on his bedside table, beckoning for Virgil to sit with him on the bed. Virgil did, cross-legged an leaning against a pillow that was propped against the wall. He glanced to the windowsill nook.

"You got something of a view," He murmured, craning his neck slightly to see out the window. Remus giggled.

"Yeah! That's where I saw mx. no-shoes earlier." He smiled at Virgil giddily.

"Oh, I see." Virgil smiled back. "Well, I'm here now, purple hair and truffles in the complete package," he spread his arms slightly, and Remus' smile turned into a full grin. He retrieved a truffle from the open box and popped it into his mouth, then throwing a second one at Virgil. It hit him in the chest, and he picked it up, starting to gnaw at it. "You were right, these are super fricking good," Virgil mentioned, taking another large gulp of his cocoa.

"I know right!? Where have you been all my life, beloved truffles," he picked up the unopened box and held it high in one hand, beginning to serenade it. Virgil laughed at him, slapping him on the arm.

"You're a massive dork."

Remus' eyes glinted. "Well I-" He stopped short, the glint disappearing as soon as it returned. Virgil watched his face. No, no dick jokes right now. He gulped and cleared his throat, retracting his arm and pulling out another two truffles from the other box. He held one of them out to Virgil on the palm of his hand. Virgil took it carefully, holding it between his fingers as he took the final sip of his own cocoa.

"Here," Remus reached his empty hand out to take Virgil's mug, setting it beside his own behind them on the bedside table. Remus resumed chewing his truffle, watching the comforter shift with his weight as he leaned back and forth slightly.

"Can I?" Virgil pointed to a few more sketches over the head of the bed. Remus nodded. Virgil got up onto his knees, nearly pressing his chest into the wall as he looked at the many sketches.

Remus got up onto his knees too, sort of knee-waddling over to Virgil's side. Virgil's eyes continued scanning the sketches before they fell onto a particularly familiar looking one. His breath caught in his chest. He reached up to it, tracing the familiar purple plaid of his very own patchwork hoodie. Remus cleared his throat from beside him.

They both spoke at the same time.

"Um, you should probably know that-"

"Remus, I wanted to tell you-"

Virgil turned to look at Remus then, and belatedly realized just how close together they were. Remus' lips were pursed, and Virgil could see that he was chewing at the inside corner of his mouth.

Virgil drew in a breath to speak as Remus moved slightly closer. Pursing his lips shut, he changed his mind, deciding to take a risk.

He surged forward suddenly, shutting his eyes. Remus met him in the middle, and just like that, they were kissing.

It was soft and still at first, lips pressed firmly into each other's. Remus reached one hand up, gently cupping Virgil's cheek.

Virgil pulled back suddenly, but Remus' hand didn't leave his cheek. "I-I'm sorry, I really should've- asked- I meant to say things, i mean, before-" He stopped as Remus set his other hand on Virgil's waist. His face looked incredibly soft and gentle, lips parted slightly as he looked at Virgil like he'd hung the moon.

Virgil intertwined his fingers on the back of Remus' neck, and Remus pulled Virgil back into the kiss.

...

two days later, Virgil was up late again, unable to push himself into unconsciousness. His body was restless even if his mind was exhausted - or perhaps it was the other way around, his mind restless and his body exhausted? He really couldn't tell.

It was nearing 3am, and he was sitting curled in on himself, hugging his knees as he watched the stars out his window. His phone, face-down on the bed beside him, began buzzing.

He tilted his head, sighing as he fought an oncoming wave of exhaustion. He picked up the phone, flipping it to see the caller ID, although part of him hoped knew who it would be.

He pressed the answer button, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hey, Remus."

He heard Remus gasp on the other end of the line, before murmuring a small "hi."

"I... are you not sleeping good tonight?" Remus' curious and confounded expression was almost palpable through the phone. Virgil smiled lazily, recognizing Remus' demeanor immediately.

"No, I'm not, but that's okay. The stars are pretty tonight." Virgil paused, scratching at his chin a bit. "Are you stoned again?"

A long pause. "Yeah," Remus blurted. "Sorry I... I nodded, but then, I realized... you can't see me."

Virgil smiled to himself again. "It's okay."

A long, comfortable silence followed. Virgil was too tired to feel the obligatory need to make conversation, especially with Remus. He'd be a fool to expect any awkwardness after a make out session with the spontaneous blob that is Remus, but he'd still been nervous to see or speak with him again. That all melted away now though, exhaustion and vague contentment taking its place.

"Virgie - uh, Virgil?" Remus piped up after a while, rousing Virgil from his trance.

"Yeah?"

"Do you, remember..." Remus trailed off, and didn't speak for long enough that Virgil almost responded to prompt him. "Did you come to my house, and also, kiss me, or was that a dream?" Even through his stoned lilt, Remus spoke a bit quickly, like he was trying to shove the words out of his mouth before he could change his mind.

Virgil chuckled. "That wasn't a dream, Remus. Yes, I remember." I don't think I could forget it if i wanted to tried.

"Oh." Virgil could hear the smile in Remus' voice. "Can we- I mean, do you want to, uh, do it again? Some time?" he didn't sound hesitant, no; just hopeful, and perhaps as though he felt like he needed to be excessively gentle. It was the sweetest tone Virgil had ever heard.

"I'd like that," Virgil smiled.

Remus sigh-laughed on the other end of the line, and Virgil's smile grew. "Cool," Remus said almost under his breath.

Virgil didn't do it consciously, but a big, loud yawn decided to worm its way out of him at that moment.

"Are you sleepy Virgie?" Remus asked in a strange partial baby voice. Virgil snorted at him.

"I'm literally always tired, so if the answer was no, that would be more concerning," Virgil quipped, but his voice sounded spent. Remus giggled a little.

"Can I hum to you?" Remus asked, smile still discernable in his tone. Virgil felt something warm spark in his chest, like a lighter being flicked and lit.

"I'd like that a lot, too," Virgil murmured, curling up beneath his covers as Remus started to hum.

He was out like a light in less than 5 minutes.

And if Remus stayed on the line for another half hour or so, humming to him and listening to his even breaths, who was to know?

...

Virgil felt like an idiot.

That wasn't an entirely rare feeling to him, but this particular time was different.

Despite his general edginess and rebel-against-society vibe, Virgil had never touched a drop of alcohol or gone near any intoxicating substance in his life. Until today.

He'd been Remus' boyfriend for almost three months now, and it was everything he could have hoped; haphazard night trips to convenience stores that ended in oddly romantic motorcycle rides, the odd gestures Remus's... eccentric mind came up with, and Virgil was in dire need of more hoodies he could let Remus steal. All this, but Virgil was still Virgil. He still had his anxiety disorder, he still dealt with insomnia. Though, sleeping in Remus' arms was proving an impressively effective remedy to the latter.

So, when Remus suggested Virgil look into the medical benefits of marijuana in regards to both anxiety and insomnia, Virgil was... intrigued, to say the least.

He did find a lot of supporting evidence through his research, and... well, he thought, what the hell, right? If Remus smokes it pretty much every day, and if this many articles are claiming its reliability... what harm would it do to try?

So here he was, sitting on his couch, having taken a couple of edibles, waiting for the high to hit him. His hand ghosted over his jean pocket, assuring himself that his phone was there in case he needed to call 911 or something. He was trying to do breathing exercises to maintain some sort of calm, but sitting still wasn't his strong suit.

He'd chosen edibles since he didn't want to have to deal with the whole... smoke and coughing side of things. And he really didn't like the sound of vaping. He figured this would be fine as an introductory experience, but he realized that he had no clue when the edibles would kick in.

He pulled out his phone, typing into google.

Marijuana edibles generally take 30 minutes to an hour to induce any psychological effects on the consumer.

Oh.

Well, he figured, there was no way he could sit still for that long.

He stood, deciding he'd make himself some dinner. Something to busy his hands with, and the leftovers he'd planned on heating up would last another day or two anyways.

He settled on some fettuccine alfredo, fairly simple but one of his childhood favorites. He had a feeling he'd appreciate the comfort food while he was... in an altered state of mind.

Virgil, however, hadn't accounted for the fact that he had an almost unnaturally high metabolism, and before he'd even gotten the pasta in the boiling water, things started to get a little funky.

The first thing Virgil noticed, before he'd even registered that the edibles were kicking in, was how he could hear his thoughts. Not literally, but it felt as though his stream-of-consciousness thoughts were more slow and clear to him, as though he was speaking directly to himself.

As he thought this, his vision suddenly came into alarming focus, and felt oddly like an unstable skyscraper. He stared down at his feet, and they seemed so far away, the floor looked far too far away... He gripped the counter nearest to him, trying to steady himself even if he wasn't actually falling. He didn't feel like he had any control over his center of balance, and even if he was mostly stock-still as a pencil, he thought he might fall down at any moment, down the many stories of building beneath him. But there was no stories beneath him... it was only his legs, which he didn't remember being so long. He stared a little harder at his feet. They weren't abnormally far away, were they?

Virgil vaguely registered the sound of over-boiling water as the realization hit him.

Oh. So this is what it's like.

He turned so that his lower back was stable against the counter, sliding slowly down onto his butt. Standing didn't feel safe right now, even if that made no sense.

He didn't really like this. He felt so isolated, so alone in this moment. He was too out of it to focus hard enough on those thoughts for them to really take root, but he was generally aware of them. So, he did the first thing he could think to do.

He pulled his phone very slowly and carefully out of his pocket, as if he thought it was a brittle sugar cookie. He stared at the dark screen for a solid minute, wondering why it wasn't turning on. Then he realized he had to actually touch the screen for that to happen, and so he did.

From there, it was relatively easy; he unlocked his phone, found the calling app, scrolled around a little haphazardly up and down the contact list before finding Remus' contact.

If anyone could help him feel less alone, if anyone knew what he was experiencing... it would be him.

He took a deep breath and held it as he pressed the call button, bringing the phone to his face as it rang.

It only rang twice before Remus answered. "Hello, Jack Skellington! What can I do for you this evening?" Remus' voice sounded a little extra mischievous, and Virgil couldn't even begin to place why.

He was quiet for a little too long, vaguely trying to decide what to say. "Hi." Not the most eloquent, but it worked for a start.

"Hi," Remus replied, the troublemaking lilt of his voice dissipating slightly. "Is everything okay, Surly Temple?"

Virgil giggled a bit. Your brother is funny. You keep stealing his nicknames for me. "I'm, yeah. Sorry, talking. it's hard. Right now." Virgil spoke haltingly, each word firm but isolated from the last.

"Hmmm..." Remus stroked his mustache from the other end of the line. Virgil giggled again, realizing he couldn't actually see Remus stroking his mustache, but could imagine it vividly all the same. There was no doubt in his mind that he was doing exactly that.

"Oh, 'm high," Virgil added quite belatedly.

"Oh! Well that makes a lot more sense!" Remus laughed, but quickly composed himself again. "What are you doing? Are you feeling okay? Is this your first time? What's happening?"

"Skyscraper," Virgil replied matter-of-factly, as if that cleared the air entirely.

"...right..." Remus replied slowly. "Stormcloud, is it okay if I come over? I don't... I want you to be- uh, to feel safe right now."

"Yes, please," Virgil clung to the phone like it was Remus' arm. "I miss you I'm kinda scared," his words slurred together, but at least he managed to say something slightly coherent. Remus grunted in acknowledgement.

"Okay. I'll be there in ten. Want me to stay on the line?" Virgil could hear shuffling around in the background.

"What're you doin?" He asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at the refrigerator door, since he couldn't actually look at Remus.

"Putting on my shoes, silly! What room are you in right now?" Remus replied, a sense of protectiveness twinged in his voice.

"Kitchen. floor." Virgil swirled his fingers on the wooden floor.

"Okay. Do you want me to stay- oh, fuck it. I'm staying on the line till I get there, okay Virgie?" Virgil heard the sound of a door slamming, followed by vague trafficky noises.

"You're coming," Virgil spoke, registering it in his mind finally.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Remus repeated, and the sound of Remus' car starting sounded shortly after.

Virgil smiled at nothing. "I love you."

The words were a bit slurred together, but he heard them out of his own mouth loud and clear. He almost clapped a hand over his mouth, a little horrified that he'd just said that.

Sure, he'd known he loved Remus for a while now, but they hadn't said it before. He'd almost said it, once, earlier that week while he was laying in Remus' arms on a drowsy Sunday morning, watching the lines of his face shift and harden as he slowly woke up. But he didn't. And now he'd just gone and said it, while he was stoned out of his mind for the first time, sitting on his kitchen floor about to break into tears-

Remus' voice, a little bit strained, interrupted Virgil's thoughts.

"I love you too."

A pause. "I'm almost there, okay? Everything's gonna be fine."

Virgil snuggled down further into his hoodie.

"I know, cus you'll be here."

[nam-nam-joon]

comptine d'un autre été, l'après-midi

or: yoongi's song

Pairing: yoongi x reader

Genre: meet-cute, slow born, fluff

Wordcount: 13.7k

Summary: when your favourite study spot is suddenly unavailable, a fit of annoyance and the tinkling of piano keys lead you to discover an entirely new space. and along with it, someone to keep company.

The library's secretary looked down her nose at you, standing half a step below the desk.

Her voice was notably cooler as she spoke again.

"The section you would like to access is closed for cleaning for the entire week from today on. We apologize for any inconveniences, but there's nothing to be done about it. You will have to go and study elsewhere, I'm afraid."

The old crone leaned back in her chair, her beady eyes fixated on the screen of her computer once more. The chain on her glasses jingled softly.

You turned away from her, staring into the rows of bookshelves accusingly while the fingers around a stack of papers holding it up to your chest tapped furiously.

No studying in the library today.

Great.

There was no other place as good to study in as that particular nook you'd found while one day idling between the rows; nowhere else could you focus so well, so thoroughly. Hours could pass while you were engrossed in the material, and the prospect of being robbed of that, today of all days - and furthermore, for the whole week?

The sun falling through the narrow, high windows suddenly didn't seem as bright and cheery anymore.

Briefly you debated just sitting at one of the long tables in the main area, with everyone else - but quickly scrapped that thought. There were more people than usual there, courtesy of the partial blockage no doubt, and you knew it just wouldn't work out.

Still steaming, you turned a corner and pushed through the first set of doors you could find, really needing some air after this monumental setback.

The fresh breeze hit your face. It slipped through your jacket and caused a shiver to run down your entire form.

Blinking against the light you tried to orientate yourself.

A few steps forward on the stones surrounding this entrance, green with moss here and there, didn't bring the expected clarity concerning your surroundings that you'd hoped for; but instead you realized this was simply a part of campus you apparently had never seen before.

The curiosity about this new, uncharted area grew into the hollow left by the frustration. If you wouldn't be able to study in your favourite spot, you could at least roam the area here and see what mysteries might be hidden.

There was a lot of grass between the occasional tree, on a long hill softly sloping down into the residential area across a street down below. Then there were the campus buildings with their windows. Most had their blinds drawn, and only those on the higher floors were cracked open to let some air in.

It was so quiet.

Somewhere almost out of hearing range was a tingling sound, like windchimes.

You took a deep breath.

There was nowhere specific to go.

Already the stress about meeting your deadlines, the library closing down, it began to lose its edge.

The tinkling came wafting over with the breeze again and you turned your face towards it, feet beginning to move before you'd fully settled on what to do, where to go next.

The stones forming the path around the building were barely visible under the encroaching greenery. They cushioned your steps and softened the ground. A corner lay ahead, and after turning you were presented with more green space between two buildings, eventually ending in a wall that was most likely part of the ancient university campus, overgrown with ivy but still standing strong against time.

The tinkling had shifted from vaguely sounding like windchimes to definitely piano tunes, but it was still nice.

About three quarters to the wall stood an old picnic table under a maple tree.

The surface was a bit uneven, the table was made out of wood and students and time alike had both carved into the soft material.

The seat was slightly damp as well - you remembered the few drops this morning on your way to your lecture - but with your jacket placed over the seat it was a nice spot.

Great, even, as soon as the sun peeked through the clouds again, bringing warmth into the still air of the secluded spot.

Whoever was playing piano was probably close by, you thought after working on the sheets you'd brought for a bit.

The tunes perfectly fit into the overall mood resting in this place, underlining the tranquil state lasting over it.

It was like you had stepped into a pocket universe, with the general buzz of campus being left behind.

The chiming of a bell tower roused you from your work pace. Not having fully arrived in the real world yet you reached for your phone to check the time after counting the rings of the bell - was it really 5pm already?

Apparently it was, and you hurried to collect everything and stuff it into your bag.

Shouldering it, you brushed off your jacket and looked over the place to make sure you hadn't left anything behind once more before it really was time to leave if you still wanted to catch your usual train home.

The music was silent as you took your leave, and you wondered for how long it had been like that already.

Pushing through the doors back into the library was like waking from a pleasant dream. Even though it was the library, and as such calmer than the rest of campus, there was still the usual ruckus. A myriad of voices whispering and creating the white noise backdrop for shoes squeaking, chairs dragging over the floor, doors closing and the occasional shout.

The big communal university spaces were almost too loud to bear and you squinted your eyes at the air saturated with sounds.

Once the entrance hall gave you free and you were hurrying towards the public transport stations it was better again, but there was still a lot more technical sounds digging into your ear drums. You resolved to plugging your headphones in and were able to breathe a little easier while on your commute home, even without music playing.

The next day was free, no lectures to attend, but you still returned to get some more work done.

For a while you were afraid you wouldn't be able to find the picnic table under the maple tree again; that it had all been a wonderful, too good to be true, dream - but your nook in the library was still closed off and there was the door you'd gone through yesterday.

The table was still there, as was the tree, and today the wood was fully dry and birds were chirping in the ivy on the wall.

With a drink in hand and happiness upon finding the wonderful small place again in your heart you sat down to work again, and even though it was tedious and required a lot of forced attention, it somehow felt a little better doing it out here.

Every once in a while you had to make a break and go for a toilet run, refilling your water bottle or simply eating a snack you'd brought.

Between yesterday and today you hadn't seen anyone else out here, and so had little qualms about leaving your stuff unattended. Safe your phone and wallet, of course.

The sun, blinking through the clouds now and then, slowly wandered over the sky.

It must have been early afternoon when you lifted your head after a particularly nasty paragraph and heard the piano play again.

A smile spread on your face as you stretched your arms and allowed yourself a break, sat back and just listened to the notes.

Whoever was playing was good.

Not that you were an expert, but your ears liked it and that was what primarily counted.

Occasionally there was a break in the flowing tune, when whoever was playing went back and redid a couple notes, sometimes once, sometimes needing two attempts, until they were satisfied and continued.

You smiled and let your thoughts wander, momentarily forgetting about your work.

The week of not having access to your library nook went by much faster than anticipated.

On the following monday you stood in the foyer, waiting for a friend, when the small sign "Library fully open again!" caught your eye.

You stared at it for a moment longer, suddenly remembering that you had only found the almost magical table away from the craze of reality solely because there had been cleaning business at work cutting you off your old favourite spot.

You were still mentally trying to puzzle everything out when Jin came floundering around the corner, steps wide and an easy smile spreading on his face at your sight.

"-to one~!"

"What?" You looked up, and the expression on the other's face fell a bit.

"Aha! So you weren't listening at all, after all."

"Sorry. Bit caught up in my thoughts. Was there something you wanted to say?"

"Will you be telling me your secret how you worked through the entire material to that first book we're reading, already? Like… That was inhumanely fast. I know you're good, but honestly. Tell me your secrets." He poked a finger into the soft area between ribcage and belt, and you swerved to the side and away from him to escape it.

"A brilliant work ethic and iron self-discipline!" You chirped and Jin rolled his eyes with an overly dramatic sigh. He hooked an arm around your shoulder and dragged you into his side.

"If the Prof is threatening to let me fail this course, will you tell me then?"

"Kim Seokjin you better not be deliberately slacking off."

"I wasn't!" He pouted, steering you into the right hallway. "Not before, anyways. But if there's a cool new drug like Why-Phy that you're taking to get done sooner, you'll tell me, right?"

"Of course. It's either Why-Phy or blue crystal meth, Jinnie, you know me too well."

The brunet laughed and pressed a kiss to your temple.

Three weeks since the library had reopened and you still had yet to return to the comfortable little chair next to the table with its small reading light.

You'd been lucky with the weather.

So far it had only rained or been too windy to sit outside longer on days you were too busy to get work done next to the lectures, or had to go early because of your job on the side.

Looking up through the leaves on the tree, blinking against the sun, you hoped it would continue to stay like this.

It felt so nice to be here, so private.

The windows leading into the yard were never not covered with blinds, at least the ones in the part of the building you were looking at frequently whenever your eyes needed a break.

The most noise was the wind in the tree or the ivy; occasionally students would sit on the other side of the wall and have a chat but that was about it.

That, and the piano music.

By now you were fairly certain it came from a room on the first floor, somewhere above the place you were sitting at, but there was no way to look into any of the rooms there.

As you turned and squinted up to them once more, not really seeing them but more wondering what might lay beyond the glass, something moving caught your eye.

Had it been an animal?

You blinked to clear your vision, but by then whatever had caused the disturbance had disappeared.

Maybe someone had looked down?

The uncomfortable feeling hadn't taken root fully before you shooed it away; surely it had been something else, a reflection of a passing bird, probably. And even if someone had looked out and seen you sitting here, so what? It wasn't illegal.

You ended your self-assigned break and went back to the material, but the thought of someone watching you, intruding on the privacy you'd enjoyed here, didn't fully leave your mind.

After finishing up early for the day you decided to go try and see if there was a way into the building you'd sat in front of so often now, and if, maybe, you'd be able to find the room the music was coming from every other day.

By the time you had bested the maze of hallways and never before used by you doors leading into other unknown parts of the campus, it was late already.

You tried some of the doors that you thought were on the right floor, but all of them were locked and there was no music coming from anywhere, either.

Disappointed, you went home.

It was the weekend afterwards, but on the next monday you were back, now finding your way to the remote, barely used building a little easier already. There was a nice long break before your next lecture and you were curious to explore more.

You held the door open after passing through as someone approached from the inside, and then went on. Silence lasted on the hallways here.

A window going out from the staircase showed the familiar corner, with the last bit of the library barely visible behind it, and you felt satisfied knowing this was where you'd wanted to go.

On the first floor you paused to catch your breath.

The lights were on overhead, but no other person was in sight.

The doors were locked as well, much like they had been on friday.

You had almost given up hope when a knob turned in your palm and you almost fell into the room behind it as the door gave away.

Dust danced in the spare light that fell through the windows.

Sheets of paper littered the floor. A few tables were pushed to the walls, there was an old cupboard missing its two front doors. More paper and empty binders were stacked in the exposed compartments.

What dominated the room though was the grand piano in its middle.

The shiny black surface beckoned to be touched by your fingertips, and you couldn't hold back from running them over the sleek paint.

It seemed old, if the slightly rusted wheels at the bottom of the pillars it was standing on were anything to go by, but it looked very well kept.

The cover lowered over the keys opened without sound. Black and white keys shared the space underneath it.

It felt wrong to push them, entice sound when you knew there were usually much more skilled hands at work here, and so you gently put the cover back and let your gaze explore the room more.

A big sheet covered a mixpult along one of the walls, several electric keyboards were stacked on the floor beside it.

The walls were a faded yellow which must've been nice once but now looked stale.

There was more paper around the piano, discarded sheet music, printed and self-written, you noticed with surprise as you bent down to inspect it.

Maybe a handful were pinned to the wall closest to the piano, exclusively hand written and, by the looks of it, self-composed.

Whoever was working their magic here so often really had a passion, it seemed, and it made you wonder why they weren't busy doing this over in the faculty for music.

Then again, you mused while stepping up to the window, this place was incredible in getting creative juices flowing. You'd experienced it yourself with work, could only guess at how it must be for someone so musically inclined.

Your picnic table under the maple tree was maybe three steps to the right underneath the window, in direct line of sight from where you stood.

It felt almost weird, knowing that if whoever was practicing here so often had even only once stood up and walked towards the window to look outside had most likely seen you sitting under the tree.

A moment longer you hung after your thoughts.

Then you blinked and remembered that you were probably not welcome here, with the expensive piano and the private compositions, and quickly and silently left the room again, making sure to close the door behind you.

You didn’t go back again in the afternoon, but as you sat down two days later, the tinkling of the keys was drifting down to your spot once more. Smiling about their company, you focused on your work.

It seemed like good things wouldn't last.

The professors heaped enormous amounts of extra essays, excerpts and transcriptions upon each of your heads, and caught between balancing your work and study life, along with having to prep multiple presentations, you were left yearning for the calm spot beneath the tree.

Namjoon had managed to get you to admit where you'd been vanishing off to over the past weeks; after loudly proclaiming that even though the library had been squeaky clean for weeks now he had yet to see you return to your spot.

"Well maybe I found a better spot!" You defended your absence, over lunch in the cafeteria.

"Aha!" Jin yelled, making everyone in a five meter radius around him flinch. "So you have been hiding! I knew it."

"It's just a tiny spot under a tree, outside the old Uni's wall. Stumbled upon it by accident, but a total good find."

“I see.” Namjoon was too intelligent to not notice you didn’t really want to talk about this and soon after dropped the topic.

Rain ran down the windows in streams and you sighed at its presence.

Like this there was no way to get out to the table, and even if it would have cleared up instantly - the wood would need at least several hours in direct sunshine to dry.

Seemed like the last of your luck had run out.

With the lighting from inside the hallways the world outside was hardly recognizable.

You loved the library, and especially the little nook, but there was just something about that table and the tree out among the downpour that was a lot more appealing now than your old favourite spot.

Sitting down anywhere else seemed impossible. Especially, you dimly thought to yourself, especially because the music would be missing.

It was ten times better than listening to your own stuff, because you didn't have to choose what to hear and couldn't simply skip tracks. A little like radio; you could just hear what was given to you, but unlike radio there were no ads.

You found yourself on ground level of the deserted building, hand on the railing and foot on the first step of the stairs before you realized - you could just sit down somewhere close to the room, listen if someone was playing today and do your work there.

Fuelled by this revelation you took the steps two at once and arrived in the hallway a little out of breath, with your heart pounding not only from the exercise.

There it was. The music.

Inexplicably content about the recent developments you picked a clean enough looking spot on the floor, opened your bag and pulled out your notes.

It wasn't as nice as sitting outside, you came to see. Natural light was a lot better to read and work alongside texts with, and the artificial kind provided here could simply not compete.

Still, with the musical undertones, you were able to cross at least some of the workload off before you allowed yourself to sit back against the wall, ignore the stupid pages in front of you and simply listen to what was being played.

It had shifted in the last days. Had it been pieces vaguely familiar to you at the start had the melodies become more and more unrecognizable over time, and now you sat a few steps from the door, eyes closed and listening, thoughts drifting further from the sheets surrounding you by the minute.

The melody was low, subdued but still driving. It sounded like something that would play at the start of a movie, a car ride maybe, with the glowing lights of a city pouring through the windows but no sound audible but this song.

It felt like the car was on its way somewhere, somewhere important, and the people inside the car knew of the importance of this destiny but were too overwhelmed to talk about it.

Maybe the scene would end at the sea, the viewer expecting to hear the ocean's waves crash against the cliff, the gulls crying overhead, but the song would continue playing.

Softly, the tune changed, and you furrowed your brows.

The melody gradually lightened until the great weight was fully lifted from it and the scene with the car and the lights and the muted ocean seemed entirely unfitting. This was more like spring, breathing in the warming air, seeing the sun again after months, that kind of stuff.

You were still drifting, trying to think of what else it reminded you of when the silence became more pronounced. Whoever it was had stopped playing, and you opened your eyes, falling from the small clouds of dreaming back into the shabby hallway.

Steps rang out behind the door, a window closed and you stared at your bag and the spread out work in horror. There was no time to pack it all up.

The door clicked open.

A pair of dark eyes stared into yours, the look of surprise at so unexpectedly seeing the other on both your faces.

Black hair reached over eyebrows, barely visible through a split in the strands.

A hand clutched what looked like a set of keys, the sleeve of the dark hoodie almost slipping over it.

He was first to break the moment of pure surprise. Clearing his throat he stepped out of the room fully, pulled the door shut behind him.

By then you'd managed to look down on the orderly mess you'd made and back up.

"I really like your music." You attempted a smile. The guy, likely not much older than you, pressed his lips into a line.

"Thanks."

It sounded softer than his expression had led you to believe. His eyes flitted over the floor for a bit before he spoke again, not having moved much more than a step. "You really shouldn't be sitting around here, I don't know when it got cleaned last."

"Ah." You twirled your pen. "Well…"

The dark haired stranger sniffed and buried his hands in his pants’ pockets, squaring his shoulders in a way that made him look incredibly uncomfortable.

"Did I interrupt something? Do you need me to move or-" You trailed off.

"No! No, no." He was quick to interrupt, one hand stretched out to halt your beginning frenzy of packing up. "No, it's alright, you weren't- doing… anything." He coughed and rubbed his neck with the free hand. "You… You usually sit outside, under the tree, right?"

You met his gaze, saw his eyes glinting once before he looked away, scuffing a used Vans sneaker on the floor.

"-Yeah, that's true. Couldn't really, today…" Gesturing towards the rain-streaked window, the other followed your line of sight and huffed.

"Yeah, weather's been shit all day. The library's probably chock full, too." He trailed off, and you observed with interest how he seemed to build himself up to the next thing to say.

"I've been… seeing you. Not wanting to sound like… a creep or so, I just- I noticed you sat outside quite often."

You smiled, and his shoulders relaxed a bit.

"Yeah! I wandered around after the library was closed for cleaning the other day, and came across this place. It's amazing. So quiet and basically nobody around… and the background music is great, too."

He looked down on his shoes at your words but you could see how one corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

"This was by the way a major factor for coming here today. It's just- Quiet, void of any people? Very few distractions? Plus free music? There's just no other place where I can get all that."

He rolled his eyes but the smile on his lips broadened. When he moved his head you could see the tips of his ears peeking through his hair, both a healthy shade of red.

"Min Yoongi." He held out his hand after studying you for a moment. "Resident ambience dealer, apparently."

Grinning, you took his larger palm, feeling the bones in his thin fingers as you told him your own name. "-Resident study freak and avid listener to Min Yoongi's compositions."

He grumbled at that. "You listen to piano a lot?"

"Not really. Only when I come here."

This time his eyes stayed on you for longer, and he leaned his back against the opposite wall while slowly easing closer to the ground.

"Then how did you know it was my own stuff I was playing?"

You tugged some papers closer by their corners, beginning to shepherd them together.

"I was in there some time ago, when you weren't there. Wanted to know where the music was coming from, took me ages to even find a way into this place. Your room is really messy, you know that?"

His face was halfway turned away again but at the humour in your voice he looked back, pout on his features.

"I never meant for anyone else to see in the first place! You don't get to complain!" He huffed, glancing at where you were chuckling across from him at his indignant outcry.

"Okay okay, I promise I won't go back inside. But that what you played last today, that was really good. Is that one of yours, too?"

He bit on his bottom lip and nodded, fingers rubbing over the fabric of his pants stretching over his knees.

“What’s your major? Music?”

“Something in that direction, yeah.” Then, after a pause in which he seemed to realize it would be the polite thing to do, he asked: “You?”

The rain continued to run down the glass as you spoke, telling the other about your plans with studying, and the hopes you had. He listened intently and only rose his voice after it was obvious you had ended, and it created a nice back and forth. Thunder clapped outside, growling and forcing him to speak up a little more.

You sighed.

"Guess I better head back if I still wanna make it home today." You swept the last of the sheets together and put them into their binder, shoving the concoction unceremoniously back into your bag.

You brushed a bit of dust off your pants and quietly pulled a face as you peeled a long hair with cobwebs off your pants.

When you met Yoongi's eyes he looked off to the side, softly shrugging. "Told you…"

"Are you heading back, too?" Now it was him looking up at you, hands linked over his knees.

"Yeah?"

You held out your hand, and after mustering it for a moment, he took it.

Either he had a lot of self-control over his body or he wasn't weighting much; either way you pulled him up and then he was towering over you once more.

"You have a car?" You asked him on the way down, looking up from the keys in his hand.

"Hm? Oh. Oh yeah. Just- It’s a hand me-down from my brother."

He cleared his throat.

"Aren't you afraid someone's gonna steal your stuff?"

He turned his head towards you, his eyebrows creasing the skin between them.

"Because you don't lock the room?" You elaborated. Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, focusing on the steps down.

"Not really. As far as I know it's only us knowing of these rooms even being here, and most of them are locked, so…"

"But you keep copies of your songs, right? Photos or some app to write it down with?" He looked at you like you had just proposed to assassinate the Dean.

"No?" He held the door open for you and then you were out in the main part of campus again.

Part of you had wondered if Yoongi would just straight up disappear as soon as you crossed the threshold, but it appeared he was very much real as he fell into step alongside you.

"Then what if someone does get in? And steals them? Or you forget to close the window and rain gets in and ruins the sheets?"

He shrugged, and the way he seemed to care so little frustrated you.

"But it's such great music!"

He shrugged again but looked on his shoes while doing so.

For a moment you were quiet, staring straight ahead while the thoughts were racing behind your forehead.

"-"

"No."

"I haven't said anything!"

He glared at you from the corner of his eyes. "But you were going to. Whatever it is, no. If anything happens to my music, that's my business, okay? Don't worry about it."

His resolute tone halted every attempt at clapping back in its core, and the few minutes it took until you were out in the entrance hall that was swimming with how many students came in and went you spent in silence.

Yoongi half turned towards you when you were already beaming up at him. "I'll hear you around?"

"-Fuck me." He covered his face with a hand and you laughed at his exasperated groan at your joke.

"Bye Yoongi!"

"Honestly, get lost..."

You were on your way to the table again, binder under your arm. Rounding the corner and you would have almost slipped on the moss growing over the path; you stared back and silently cursed while being glad you didn't actually fall.

The surface of the desk was wet when you reached it.

"It's been like, an entire day, why are you not dry." You said lowly, feeling the top down. Definitely too wet for anything paper related.

"You're late."

You looked up at the drawl, only needing a moment until your eyes fixed on the mop of hair peeking out of the window.

"Oh, yeah?" You looked down on the table, not really knowing what else to say. "Well... your ass is late, too."

"The fuck."

The confusion on Yoongi's face was a delight to see. A moment longer you stayed rooted to the spot next to the table, then his voice came again.

"You wanna come up here now or what. That desk won't dry up until tomorrow. If you're lucky."

Squinting up you shielded your eyes against the glare of the bright clouds overhead.

"You won't mind?"

Yoongi seemed to momentarily contemplate it, looking straight ahead. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Look, you can either get your ass wet sitting outside, or get it dirty sitting in the hallway, but if you enjoy my music really that much it'll be a total experience sitting in the same room while i play. Your choice."

He vanished from the open window and closed it, only leaving a crack open.

Your fingers tapped on the binder.

Five minutes later you knocked on the blank door, waiting patiently in your spot until steps sounded out and Yoongi opened.

He was sporting the same dark hoodie today, fidgeting with the sleeves of it.

"May I come in?" You inquired, and he wordlessly stepped aside.

Together with Yoongi's help you pulled one of the overturned tables right way up, found a suitable chair and then wiped the surfaces off. There was a small sink in the adjacent storage room, with running water and all, and eventually your new desk was in a condition you deemed okay.

You sat down on your chair and Yoongi, who'd been brooding over his sheet music since you'd shooed him off to clean everything by your standards, looked back down on the floor. He perched on the run down piano stool, elbows on his knees, and peered on the papers strewn across the ground.

Occasionally he'd bend down to pick one up but you had too much to do to really watch him for longer.

At one point he turned and you allowed yourself a moment of rest. He pushed the hoodie up his arms, almost to his elbows, before his fingers placed themselves on the keys and he started to play.

He had been right. It was something entirely else to sit in the same room with him while he played.

Like this the music drowned out any other sound that may have sailed in from outside; whether it be the call of bird or bell.

It was nice.

Your thoughts calmed down until they ran smooth, circling around topics once or twice before moving on.

The world existed only in this room, the music filled your ears and the shabby lighting overhead concealed the darkening sky outside.

At one point Yoongi stood in front of your table, fingers curled around the hem of his hoodie once more. His knuckles pushed at his skin. The edge of one sleeve was beginning to fray.

Mildly irritated, you looked up and met his eyes.

"What?"

"Uh isn't this the time you usually leave?"

You held contact a moment longer before looking down on your watch and tsking disapprovingly. Yoongi's shoulders twitched up.

"Shit, it is."

Ripped out of the peaceful mood you began to collect pages and close books, mentally going through the timetable and if you’d still make the train. "Are you heading out, too?"

He nodded and, growing braver again, stacked a few materials while you shoved everything in your bag. "Thanks." You hurried.

It'd be a bit tight, time-wise, but Yoongi's long legs effortlessly kept pace with your quick steps.

"How'd you know this was my time to leave, anyways?" You narrowed your eyes at him, not hiding the smile on your lips. "Have you been stalking me?"

Yoongi opened and closed his mouth without saying anything once or twice before he looked ahead and said "It was the time you left, last time." His shoulders were still drawn up as he peeked at you from the side. "I'd never-"

"I was kidding." You took half a step to the side and bumped your elbow into the general area of his arm. His hand reflexively came up and clutched the spot.

“I'm a creature of habit. If I miss this train I'll have to wait forever until the next one comes and that's always a huge pain."

He nodded, and shortly after, bid you farewell before you parted behind the front doors.

It had rained the entire weekend long and you didn't bother to go outside to the table, instead turning left before the library even came into view and headed straight for Yoongi's hideaway.

He didn't open when you knocked and you found the room empty after peeking inside.

He came in half an hour after you, in a dark blue hoodie this time, and looked a bit startled at seeing you there.

"Hi!" You smiled at him, over the backrest of the chair. "I hope you don't mind, it rained again and I-"

He shrugged and shuffled past you, heavily slumping down in front of the piano.

He didn't say anything and his melodies today were slow and deep.

Before you could turn to leave after the clock had well advanced, his back straightened and, anticipating him speaking up, you paused; jacket already on and bag in hand.

"Thanks for not asking me what's wrong."

He was talking to the piano, but you still smiled a bit.

"Of course."

"I don't know, if, I said it already but, you're very- welcome to come here if, you know, the weather…"

You looked down on your shoes. Only after it didn't seem like he was going to finish his sentence did you raise your voice.

"I don't think you did, but I really appreciate it. Thank you. Will you stay a little longer today?"

His gaze fled your face for his piano again after you raised your head.

"Yeah."

"Take it easy, Yoongi."

"Whatever."

You smiled at him even though you didn't know if he'd see, and then headed out.

You'd gotten ahead of homework and so could ease a little during your work sessions in Yoongi's piano room now, and during one of those easier days decided to finally ask the question that had been bouncing around your head for a while now.

"How'd you get the piano tuned? And isn't it really old?"

He didn't look up from his sheet, brows still furrowed at something he'd probably written down a few days ago and now wasn't satisfied with anymore.

"I watched a few Youtube tutorials."

You put your chin in one of your hands and grinned, but Yoongi broke eye-contact quickly after glancing your way.

"You did it yourself?"

"Yeah? Wasn't. Wasn't that hard."

Your grin widened and his glare intensified at its presence. "Min Yoongi. Musical Genius."

"Shut up."

His ears coloured red and gave him away, and you'd have loved to go over and give him a quick hug.

You didn't know how many other people got to appreciate him, but if his hideout here was anything to go by it weren't many. Probably.

He was adorable.

Even when the sun was shining outside and it had been dry for several days you wouldn't go to the little desk, favouring the clear sound of Yoongi playing and his occasional comment, mumbled to himself. It was far too cold now, anyways. Winter was fast advancing as November went on.

He had a way to be in the same space with you while not demanding any of your attention - which made it incredibly pleasant to have him around.

If you weren’t spending time together in amicable silence he was surprisingly easy to talk to. Most of his answers were short, or mumbled sounds, and yet you never got the impression he was fed-up or annoyed. He asked things too, occasionally; and though objectively you hadn’t known him that long, it still felt weird to remember there had been a time without him in your life.

Once, after you'd struggled with a particularly boring part of a required text that your brain just wouldn't process at all, he'd quietly asked if you could come over and take a look at something he'd been working on.

You stared at him, the skin between your eyebrows creased.

"Yoongi I don't know anything about music. Do you really-"

"Please?"

"...Fine."

You were standing next to him already, preparing to sit, when he parted his lips and looked up at you.

"Could you… sit with your back to the keys? It's just, I…"

It wasn't his fault, you were frustrated by the text; but you couldn't help the forced exhale of air that left your nose.

Yoongi's shoulders twitched. You hesitated, wanted to say something, didn’t find the words and then made an effort to move as calmly and quietly as possible to not upset him further.

"Sorry. Long day.” You said in a low voice, feeling strangely raw. “Play, if you… if you want?"

You could see him looking at you, through the corners of your eyes, and part of the tension left his form again at your words, underlying tone asking for forgiveness.

"S'alright." He breathed, just before clearing his throat and placing his hands on the keys.

As he played, the tight knit ball of jumbled thoughts behind your forehead stopped growing.

The longer you listened, the more tension left your brain; the cramped thoughts and need-to-do’s losing their alarming vibrant colours.

You felt yourself calm down.

He broke off playing and coughed nervously.

"So that- was version one. This is version two."

And he began to play again, the same piece, though slightly different, and this time you reminded yourself to pay more attention and really listen.

After he'd finished, the frustration over your text had thinned out and you were fully focused on the task at hand.

"So?" He asked, nervously rubbing his hands together.

"Can you play the first one again? Just for comparison?"

He nodded and went back to it.

"I think I like the first one better.” You decided. “The second one… implies something darker lurking beneath, and, I guess if that's what you intended it's executed well but the rest sounds lighter and so-"

He huffed out a laugh and dropped his head, hands sandwiched between his thighs.

"Hm? Not good? What I said?"

"No, no," He hurried to reassure, eyes gleaming under his fringe. "No, it's… I was hoping you'd say that, I guess. Gives me a reason to scratch this part. Didn't even like it much, I just felt- Yeah. Thanks."

At the almost-grin spreading on his lips you had to smile as well.

Had your shoulders touched during the entire time you'd sat here?

He broke the eye-contact first, looking back towards the keys once before meeting your gaze again.

"Rough day hm?"

"Yeah." You looked ahead, not really seeing the wall there. "Yeah, you could say that…"

Another sigh and then you were feeling the exhaustion more and more.

It was a spur of the moment thing, really, and you asked before you could hold yourself back.

"Are you okay with touches?"

"Ha? What do you-"

"Can I put my head on your shoulder?"

"Oh. Uh-"

"It's- It's fine if you don't want that," You hurried to backpedal, already mentally chiding yourself. "I'll be o-"

"No, it's, uh, you, ah, you can! Put your head on… yeah. I don't mind."

His voice got quieter and quieter until he was mumbling the last sentence.

His shoulder, although cushioned by his hoodie, was bonier than you'd thought. But it was nice, to rest for a moment, and you closed your eyes, exhaling slowly.

Yoongi's breathing had his shoulders rising and falling, and unconsciously, you adapted your rhythm to his, until you were breathing in synch.

"Thank you." You mumbled, adjusting your head and feeling your forehead brush his hood.

"Don't worry about it." This up close his voice was even deeper, and the low tone soothed the rawness your ears had suffered under for the past days in crowded lecture halls and hallways.

Ever so softly his cheek came to rest against the top of your head as he gave into the shy touch.

"Do you sing, Yoongi?"

You still had your eyes closed, listening to Yoongi's breathing and the sound his clothes made when they rubbed against themselves, against his skin.

"Sometimes." He answered after a pause. "More rap than… singing lullabies."

"I bet you sound good doing either."

He snorted, which pretty clearly gave away how little he thought of your compliment.

A moment long neither of you spoke.

Then he let out a heavy sigh.

"Why exactly do you think that?"

Your left arm was slightly pushed forward as he moved his left arm, from where the backs of your forearms were pressed against each other.

"You have a very nice voice, deep, and steady, and- It has that ring to it, you know, the same undertone. Some people speak and you can't really make out the tone or… colour… of their speech, but your voice doesn't jump around. You could probably read a phone book and make it sound nice."

"Okay that just ruined everything you said before."

"Oh fuck off! You asked!" There was a laugh in your voice as you lifted your head to look at him exasperatedly. He blinked, looking a bit sleepy, as if he had rested his eyes a little, too.

At your expression he hollowed out his cheeks.

"Jeez, don't behead me. I'll take it, okay? Happy now?"

"Yes. Thank you."

You pursed your lips and waited, until Yoongi would break eye-contact, but he didn’t surrender as quickly. He blinked and kept looking, and everything in you wanted to put your head back down, back on his shoulder, and stay like that a little longer, talk a bit more.

But this small break had gone for a bit too long already and you knew you should get back to work. That text sadly wouldn't read itself.

An unfamiliar touch on your arm held you back.

"Can you stay a bit longer?"

Half standing above him already he had to tilt his head so he could look at you.

"I really should-" You began, and then sighed, admitting that you really didn't want to move to yourself, and sat back down. "...Screw that text."

Yoongi's shoulder bumped yours, almost like an invitation, and you gave in without much thought.

You felt the bones shift as Yoongi lifted his hands and began to press single keys, filling the silence of the room with tunes.

"That text got you all worked up, hm." He spoke again after a while.

You frowned at nothing.

"It's just so dull. The professor said it serves as an example of what not to write, so it's basically just- we're just supposed to read it and mark all the mistakes, to avoid doing the same mistakes, but honestly… I know how and what I have to write, I shouldn't- Ugh. See? It's annoying me again already."

You huffed, leaning a bit more on Yoongi.

His cheek found your hair again and he chuckled.

"What's that idiot done wrong in his writing then?"

You weren't so sure afterwards, if he really had wanted to know or if this was just Yoongi's way of getting you to review the material differently, but you supposed it had worked out.

It was a lot easier to read and complain aloud while he sat next to you and listened to you rant, even though the finer nuances were surely lost on him since he wasn't studying the same thing.

On your way back to your flat you held your left arm with your right until you saw yourself in a reflection and noticed it.

Sitting next to Yoongi like that had only further proved how comforting his presence was, and now, without anything like that to be repeated in the foreseeable future, the missing touch felt a lot worse than where you had been before.

Technically you'd see him again tomorrow, or the very least Thursday.

But who was to say he'd ask you to sit with him again?

You ran into him during lunch the next week after not making it back to his room before that.

He was looking off to the side, in the direction of the lousy holiday decorations that had popped up in the major community spaces - You needed a moment to recognize him as the same guy who was playing piano while you studied. His bare arms, sticking out of a black shirt that hung from his shoulders, were almost shocking. That, and the surroundings clashing so harshly with what you were used to see him surrounded by.

“Hey, Yoongi!” You called out after the realization had sunk in, and turned with the tray in your hand.

His shoulders jerked up, but as his searching gaze connected with yours he relaxed.

“Hi.” He rubbed over his neck. “What are you…” His eyes fell on the food you were balancing in your hands. “Right. Lunch.”

“Are you headed somewhere?” You shifted your weight from one leg to the other. Yoongi shook his head slowly, hands clenching around his hoodie he carried in them.

“Wanna sit with my friends and me? They’re just over there, next to the pillar.”

“Uh-”

“They’re all really friendly and don’t bite, I promise.”

“...Fine.” He sighed and trudged after you as you turned.

Whenever he agreed to do something you had proposed to him he made it out to seem like it was a decision that had taken him weeks to arrive to, or if it was something incredibly heavyweight he couldn’t just agree to, but whenever you offered him to go back on saying yes, or reminding him he could opt out any moment, he was always vehement to defend his point. It almost looked like he did things purely out of spite even when you’d meant well to second-guess his willingness to cooperate.

It was the same today, as he followed you through the rows, and then pulled out a chair next to yours as you put the tray down.

“Friends, this is Yoongi. He plays piano.”

“My most defining feature, apparently.” He grumbled in response and sat down, not after shimmying into his hoodie.

“Oh hey Yoongles!” Jin perked up, the burrito in his hands falling apart. “You two know each other?!”

“That does surprise me, I agree.” Hoseok added, stealing bits of the filling of Jin’s food that fell to the plate below. The quirky guy had one day invited himself into your circle of friends and nobody had had a heart to kick him out, but apparently he did know other people on campus save your group.

“You know him?” You retorted, pulling out your water bottle before starting on the food.

“Some people socialize, my dear friend.” Jin said, swatting at Hoseok’s hand.

“Yeah I know, I wasn’t aware Yoongi did that.”

“Ouch?” The black haired guy next to you said and got a round of laughs back.

“Sorry.” You apologized. He stole the small package of chips from your tray and opened it.

“I mean, it’s kind of true, I suppose.” He relented.

“Did you write down what the Prof wrote on the blackboard last Monday?” Jin had given up on his burrito and was furiously wiping at his hands while a happy Hoseok gleefully dug into the scattered remains. Jimin next to him made grabby hands and the plate got pushed over so he’d reach it too. Jin pursed his lips.

“Yeah. You need them or what?” Yoongi dropped a chip in his mouth and chewed slowly.

Jin turned his head and a more up-beat expression settled on his features. “Pretty please!”

Yoongi groaned.

Around half an hour later the cafeteria filled up as more and more students took their break, and soon enough your group rose to make room for the people who actually needed the space to sit down.

“You going to practice today?” You asked Yoongi as your group made its way towards the exit. He nodded absentmindedly.

“Oh, can I come?” Hobi suddenly appeared by Yoongi’s other side, apparently having overheard the conversation.

Yoongi glared.

“And have you leave prints on all my shit? No thank you.”

“Excuse you these sneakers are brand new! Not a single speck of du- Hey!”

To your utter delight Yoongi had stepped on the brilliant white of Hobi’s new shoe and left a dusty brown mark.

The sputtering outcry got the attention of Namjoon and Jin who’d been walking ahead, and after placating words and a glare from Yoongi you all parted ways, Hobi notably not tagging along with you.

“That was mean.” You told him, still laughing over Hoseok’s exasperation.

Yoongi shrugged, hands in his pockets, but you saw the smile on his lips just before he angled his face in a way that didn’t allow you to observe his features any longer.

The days until the short christmas break were counting down.

One weekend you spent baking with Jimin and Rose, and were left with so many cookies you put a good amount in a box, wrapped it in newspaper and brought it with you to give to Yoongi as an early present.

You could pinpoint the exact moment he saw the gift sitting on his chair after he had come in, because he stopped dead in his tracks.

“What?” He asked, and you looked up from the transcribing exercise.

“What what?”

“That.” He pointed, as if a motion detection sensor would go off if he took only a step closer.

You clasped your hands under your chin and looked from the chair to Yoongi.

“Didn’t you see the elf that came in and dropped this off?”

His eyebrows drew together and he glared at you.

“I have a feeling I’m looking at this ‘elf’ right now.” He crossed his arms. You shrugged.

“If you don’t want it, I’ll find someone else to give it to.” That cute first-semester from Jimin’s Survey of Linguistics and Languages class maybe, Jungkook.

“No.” Yoongi grumbled, and you mentally scratched having to rehome the box of cookies. Although, come to think of it, there were probably enough cookies left at home to pack another box. Maybe you’d ask Jimin if he could ask Jungkook if he’d like some.

He sat after picking the present up, hesitantly, and weighted it in his hands.

“What’s in it?” He turned to you.

You lifted an eyebrow. “Wait until the evening of the 24th and find out. Or abandon all social norms and just tear into it now, I wouldn’t judge.”

“Like fuck you would.” He huffed and then looked from the patched up paper to you. It seemed like he wanted to say something, and then decided against it, only placing the gift on top of the piano, in a spot where it wouldn’t be in the way.

You got up earlier than usual, wanting to get a bit of shopping done before leaving for your parent’s home for the holidays.

Yoongi’s head jerked up, and the pencil he’d twirled in his fingers clattered to the ground.

“Is it five already?” He asked, hands reaching for his phone.

“Nah,” You slung your scarf around your neck. “I’ll run some errands.”

“Oh okay.”

To your surprise, Yoongi started grabbing his things as well.

You paused.

“Yoongi, what…?”

His gift under his arm, the other froze.

“Huh? Didn’t you ask if I could drive you today?”

You blinked.

Dim, very dim was the memory, of having asked him, a week ago. You hadn’t decided to do the shopping today, back then.

“You- You don’t have to. Sorry, I forgot, my bad-” You bit in your lip. “You, uh, you stay, and… Compose a while longer. I’ll be fine.”

In the silence between you, you could hear the wind whistling around the corners of the building.

It was dark outside already.

Yoongi was still looking at you, and though you’d come to understand his expressions a bit, this one was undecipherable.

“So you… Don’t want me to drive you?”

He looked weird, the newspaper wrapped box under his arm, his jacket slung over the other. Ready to go, at your convenience.

It twisted your heart a little.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t remember you saying yes, and my shopping-”

“I could still drive you. It’s faster than the train?” His eyebrows twitched upwards in the middle, just a tiny bit.

“-Okay.” You agreed, and his posture relaxed at last.

His car smelled new, even though everything in it was carrying marks of the years it had been used.

You stayed silent, unsure how to proceed, and as the lights of downtown illuminated the inside of his car, you turned your head to look at him.

“Would you like to come do the shopping with me?”

The car rolled to a stop at the next red light, and in the low light, Yoongi’s eyes glinted as he looked over.

“If you want me to?”

“Yes please.”

“Okay.”

"I bought an iPad."

"You what?" You looked up from your work, across the room and met his eyes over the piano. He was glaring.

"You heard me."

"I did. Why though?"

January was almost over by now, but it would take a while longer until the sun would win back her intensity, and not let the daylight fade this early in the afternoon. Though, clouds littered the sky today, which was probably the main cause why the lights overhead reflected in the glass already at this hour.

Yoongi looked down on the keys, his hands rubbing over his thighs.

"You won't stop nagging me about losing the sheets or forgetting the tunes, so I thought… I could record some of the songs. Scan the sheets. That kinda stuff."

You smiled, unashamed and wide, and Yoongi's glare intensified.

"You're gonna come have a look or what."

He sounded a little pressed and without any more words you left your desk and crossed the room.

He shuffled aside so you could fit yourself next to him.

The tablet wasn't the latest model - which would have really surprised you, otherwise - but there was something like a microphone plugged into the lightning port and clipped to the edge.

"Is that a mic?" You leaned forward, having had half the mind to sit on your hands to not accidentally touch anything and ignite Yoongi's wrath.

"Yes." He grumbled, still a bit more fidgety than usual. "Cost almost as much as the damn thing so I hope you're happy."

The grin stole into the wonder and awe that had captured your expression before.

"I am. Very. Recorded anything yet?"

You'd arrived a bit later today, courtesy to an extended lunch with Namjoon and Jin.

Yoongi's eyes glinted when he looked from the keys to you.

"And have you chewing my ear off for not letting you be there? Fuck no. Was gonna wait until you got here. -Shut! It."

You bit your lip to keep the cooing at bay, opting to gently nudge his shoulder with yours instead.

"I appreciate it. Wanna play now?"

The nervosity was back, the way he bounced his leg so uncharacteristically agitated  for him. He was more like a pond usually, calm and undisturbed.

"Keep quiet alright?"

You nodded.

He sighed and rubbed his hands one last time. Then he extended one, woke the screen and unlocked the tablet. The recording program was already open.

He clicked the red button and instantly a flat line appeared, only beginning to curve up and down as he shifted and began to play.

Keeping your breathing flat was probably unnecessary and yet you couldn't help it.

Yoongi's hands danced over the keys, pushing down and lifting in such rapid succession you could hardly keep up with. It was mesmerizing to observe, but not only that.

With his eyes closed and his head angled he gave himself to the music completely, feeling every note.

There was a small pulling in your chest, from the area around your heart, at his sight.

It must feel good to be able to zone out this much doing something you loved and were good at.

Only after he'd repeated the chorus did you notice what he was playing - the melody that had initially drawn you in and led you to the table outside.

Your heart in your chest grew with every beat, until it felt like it pressed against your ribcage from the inside.

Yoongi slowed down, the notes came a little wider apart, and then he let the last chord ring out. Fingertips still resting on the keys, you looked between them, waiting if he'd play another song.

When he slid them down on his pants it became clear he didn't intend to.

Silence enveloped you.

"That's my favourite song. That one. I only found you because of it."

Your eyes went back to his face and caught him already looking. His eyebrows drew together.

He tapped the little square and the program stopped recording.

"Now you ruined the first ever song I played for the record, idiot."

You scoffed.

"I only spoke up after it was all done, you can easily cut that out, genius."

He huffed and you rolled your eyes.

"Not everything has to be perfect first try. Thought someone like you would know that."

He just shook his head, still frowning.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I'll keep quiet now." Thinking he was honestly upset, you apologized, hoping it'd sooth his temper.

But it didn't seem to be the right call as he buried his face in his hands, shoulders rolling forward.

"Just… Nevermind."

"Do you want me to get out of your hair?"

Your butt had already lifted from the chair when his reply came, mumbled through his hands.

"No."

You sat back down.

Dark eyes glinted at you through his fingers, then he combed through his hair and pushed it back from his face.

It was the first time you could really see his eyebrows well, and the expanse of his forehead.

You'd known he had one, of course, but seeing it was something else.

He woke the tablet again and started a new recording.

You smiled.

You didn’t get any work done that afternoon, but then again listening to a fraction of the repertoire that Yoongi had to offer was phenomenal compensation.

Still he looked a bit rueful, standing next to your desk while you packed your stuff, the iPad with its closed cover and Mic securely stored in the small bag over his shoulder.

“Sorry I… Kept you from your studying.”

You looked up while zipping your pencil case shut.

“It’s okay. Think I needed that, anyways. A break from all those words. It’s me who should thank you, really.”

He wrinkled his nose and kicked at a speck of dust, following you out the room once you were done.

“Still. Can I… Do you want a ride home? I know you missed the bus you usually take.”

“You’d do that?”

“It’s the least, really…”

A smile spread on your face. “Who am I to say no to such a gracious offer, why yes, thank you Yoongi.”

“Don’t make me regret it.” He grumbled, pushing ahead with a frown on his features.

"Play for me, Min, please." You sat next to him on the stool, hands underneath your thighs and gaze swimming from exhaustion.

Yoongi's shoulder softly bumped into yours as he repositioned himself.

"You okay."

"Yeah. Just. Please play."

"Alright." He looked at the keys, fingers caressing them but not pressing down hard enough to evoke the notes. "Anything in particular?"

"Can you play my favourite piece?"

His eyes stayed on yours and you grew almost uncomfortable by their scrutiny.

And then he blinked and turned back towards the keys, rolling his wrists once and setting his fingers down.

"As you wish."

As he played you watched his fingers move, trying to lean away whenever he came near you to avoid bumping into his arm. His skin looked healthier now, now that the temperatures were rising again and there were no angry, painful red cracks lining the back of his hands anymore.

It was like his body had its own gravitational field, drawing you in.

When he ended, your side was leaned against his, your heavy head teetering on the edge just before dropping to his shoulder.

The arm he wrapped around you would have come as a surprise, eliciting at least a twitch out of you, had you been a little more coherent.

As it was, your body sighed and curled into his, head tucked into his shoulder, while his hand pulled you closer by your side.

"Long day."

It wasn't a question, but you understood the offer he was making.

"Yeah." You sighed, the hoodie-clad shoulder pleasantly soft under your cheek. "Finals will kick my ass. Didn't want to do an all-nighter ever again but got peer-pressured into it anyways… Sucks."

Yoongi hummed, playing this and that note with the free hand.

"Didn't peg you for someone giving into that kind of thing."

You grumbled.

The impending doom of the next test hung low over your head, and still you couldn’t peel away from your spot next to Yoongi, wedged on the chair, with his arm around you. Didn’t want to. Felt like maybe if you’d made an attempt to get up, he might even have pulled you down again.

"Want me to drive you home?" He mumbled, an indefinite amount of time later.

"You're really nice today. Or is that just me being tired."

He chuckled, and you felt his cheek come to rest against your head.

"Don't tell anyone, okay."

"Okay."

You adjusted in your spot and snaked both of your arms around his torso.

He didn't flinch.

It was quiet for a moment.

"Hm?"

He hummed.

"What?" You lifted your head. He glanced at you from the corners of his eyes.

"Didn't answer my question."

"Which one?"

"If you want me to drive you home."

He jostled your shoulder.

You debated it for a moment.

"Alright. Yeah, okay.”

You put a hand to his shoulder that quickly morphed from a gentle pat into holding on for support as your quick standing up led to some instability in your legs.

He looked up at you.

"Okay then. Let's go." You repeated.

It was like the world was wrapped in cotton.

It was silent in the car. The radio didn't look broken, but Yoongi slapped your hand away as you wanted to poke it and see if you could turn it on.

"Nu-uh. No touchy." His eyes never strayed from the street.

"Next one left." You informed him, pouting.

"I know." He said.

Your hand was on the handle even before his shabby car rolled to a stop in front of your place.

It was unusually warm for the month, and you’d rolled the window on the passenger side down to breathe in the mellow spring breeze.

Now outside, you leaned your arms through it.

A grin spread on your face.

"Say, isn't it weird that you know where I live and I still haven't gotten your number?"

A rare, gummy smile appeared on his face, slowly.

"Please?" You jutted out your bottom lip.

"...Fine." He reached into the back, patting his jacket down.

He pulled his phone out of one of the pockets, handing it to you after unlocking it.

"'Musical Genius #1 Fan’?" He read out the contact name you’d given yourself. He glared at you.

You shrugged.

"If you don't like it, change it, genius."

He snorted and gripped the steering wheel tighter with his left hand.

The world was beginning to get very fuzzy beyond a two step radius around you, and you took that as a sign you should definitely head into your room now.

“Thank you for the ride.”

“Always.” He smiled again, his usual, small one.

You patted the hood of his car twice after leaning back.

Texting Yoongi was almost alarmingly normal.

Despite the fantastical circumstances of meeting him, you found he was very much engaged in normal life on campus, too. Occasionally.

He wasn’t much for the polite small talk to start a day, rather than just sending a text saying ‘There’s a lizard by the parking lot and ppl r clogging the way, will be late’ first thing.

You hadn’t believed him when he’d said he wasn’t much into memes, but send him a couple vine compilations anyways.

By now he was fully fluent in both them and most current memes floating around, further adding to you not really believing he hadn’t had a speck of an idea before.

The definite end of the semester came into view, but it meant every final was crammed into the space between then and now, which resulted in more studying and less listening to Yoongi playing. 

You were brushing teeth one evening when your phone’s screen lit up with an incoming video call from him.

Placing it on a slightly elevated spot inside the small cabinet above the sink, you accepted it.

“...Oh wow look at that, who is that raccoon?”

Your reply telling him to fuck off came warbled by the white foam spilling over your chin. He smiled, wide and easy.

“Wanted to ask what you were up to this evening but I guess I don’t have to anymore, huh.”

You cleared your mouth and dabbed a towel around it afterwards.

“Not really. I’m super tired, so I think I’ll just go to bed, honestly. Did you want to do something? In that case I’m sorry, but no.”

He rolled around, and only then did you see he was in bed, with the covers drawn up already and all.

“Uhh, no… Just wanted to check in. But now that you mention it… How about some music to help you relax?”

You took him from his spot on the shelf and flicked the light off before moving into your bedroom.

“I think I have enough music here, thanks…” Distracted by the device, you almost forgot to take your refilled water bottle. When you looked at the screen next, you could see Yoongi with his arms on his keyboard, phone propped up in a way that allowed you to look down the length of the keys. He was pouting.

“Not even a personalized little concert?”

You sat back on your bed and smiled at the screen.

“Okay. Just this once. And only because it’s you.”

“Yes!” He punched the air and grinned down at the camera. Lying on your side with the screen being the only thing illuminating the room, you watched and listened to him play, allowing yourself to breathe slowly and let go of the troubles that were plaguing you during the day.

You were almost gone, eyelids heavy and grasp on your phone slipping, when Yoongi picked his own device up.

“Sleep well.” He mumbled.

You hummed in response, eyes shut.

It was the last day of school before the semester ended. Technically it had ended already; The clock on the wall read something around two in the evening, and in any other case you’d be furious as to why you were still stuck here. As it was, you were sat next to Yoongi once more, in front of the piano, one last time before the break.

The window was wide open, letting in the chirps of birds and rustling of leaves.

"I'm not so good. With words." He looked up after a moment, the tips of this pointer and middle finger gently running up and down a crack between the keys.

The world outside was sunny and looked much warmer than it was, but in here, out of direct sunshine, it was still cool. Yoongi’s body next to yours was the only source of immediate warmth in the almost clammy air.

"I can speak better through the music. I think that's why… I think that's why you say my songs are expressive." His voice died down, but his eyes, glued to yours, won in intensity.

Even this close up you couldn’t tell where his iris ended and his pupil began. "Sometimes I wish I could be better with words. At least a little bit."

He looked down, where your hand lay on your thigh, with the fingers curled in and under the palm, to prevent from reaching out and touching the piano while he was playing it. Touching the piano or him.

With bated breath you watched him move, slip his hand from the keys, to then, lightly, as if you'd break at the slightest of pressure, cover yours.

Not taking your eyes off the palms, you turned your own around until you could slip your fingers between his.

You heard him swallow thickly when you squeezed your conjoined hands. Were acutely aware of how his thigh felt pressed against yours, him next to you.

Your eyes met again, but not for long. He looked away again, oddly reminding you of the first times you’d seen each other; him unable to look at your for longer than a second.

His tongue swept over his bottom lip before his teeth got a hold of it and he stared down on the piano. When you readjusted in your spot his fingers flexed and squeezed your palm, as if to prevent you from letting go. You saw his jaw ticking as he continued to avoid your eyes, the way his eyebrows furrowed, a tell-tale sign for the inner turmoil.

“Sometimes you don’t have to say much, you know. Sometimes… Sometimes I think I understand you just like that.”

“Oh yeah?” It would’ve sounded condescending if you hadn’t been able to filter out the self-deprecating downtilt of his words by now.

He glanced up at you before shuffling in his spot, twisting as best as he managed to be able to look at you without getting up. His knee dug into the dent in your leg just above your own, but you ignored the slight discomfort.

He lifted your joined hands briefly, letting them fall on his own thigh before his whole body calmed down and his eyes finally steadied on yours.

“Tell me, then. What am I trying to say?”

You let your eyes rise from his, into the mussed hair, to the one strand that was still sticking up from where he’d exasperated ran his hand against the growth earlier.

His eyebrows were still furrowed minimally, and only under your watchful gaze did he stop chewing on the inside of his cheek.

For several minutes you looked him over, observed the uneven rise and fall of his chest, in that old black shirt - it span over his chest now, its fit almost snug when it had been loose before. He’d really filled it out.

Eventually you sandwiched his hand between the both of yours, looking down on his fingers between yours.

“I have no idea.”

It was the truth. No matter how hard you looked, no matter how many clues you believed to see, it was impossible to tell just where his mind had taken him this time.

He swallowed and looked down, nodding once.

“Right. A-”

“If-” You interrupted him, looking up through your lashes. His shoulders were still rising along with his breathing, but now you had his undivided attention. “-you’re going to say something mean now, against you or me, don’t. Please.”

He bit on his lip and ducked his head to the side, obviously displeased.

“See?” He leaned back, balling his free hand into a fist. “You can do it after all! Somehow you got into my head. Don’t do that.”

“So?” You ignored the interruption, tone having shifted in the slightest. “Tell me. What...?

Two heavy breaths in which he kept squinting at you, attempted to speak up and then averted his gaze again.

When his eyes came back down from the ceiling his hold on your hand tightened.

“A hug.”

You were sure, if you hadn’t been holding his hand, he would’ve backed off as soon as the words had left his lips. But he couldn’t and so he stayed in the same spot, leaned back as far as he could, blinking and looking at you like you would start smacking him any moment.

“Please.” He added, and it had been almost too quiet to hear.

With only a nod as an answer, he relaxed a little, but the tension wouldn’t leave his shoulders.

“Here?” You asked, and he nodded, eyes flitting around. His left leg started jiggling, but before the nervosity could take more hold on him you disentangled your hands and opened your arms. He hesitated a moment longer but you didn’t rush him, waited, let him take his time. Let him come to you.

And he did.

With slow, careful hands that touched the lower part of your ribs cautiously before they slid around to your back, one upwards between your shoulder blades, the other down to the small of your back.

It was like someone that had been starved of water being allowed near a clean river - someone that had been deprived for so long that the madness of thirst had subsided into tired resignation already. When faced with the thing he’d been hungering for most, he didn’t run in blindly and submerged himself at once.

It was more like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to, was able to touch you sat next to him, that you let him close his arms around you.

His chin bumped into your collarbone as you lifted your own arms a little to lay them over his shoulders and hug him back, and he whispered a small “Sorry” before his head nestled into place next to yours.

He had to bend down and you stretched up a bit, and for the first moment you felt how uncomfortable he seemed with everything.

With a single, long sigh, he relaxed.

Gave into the hug, completely, and without holding back anymore.

Every breath he took you felt, were made aware how he drew his breath in several steps, as if he didn’t possess the strength to do it at once.

There was no more room between you but you felt his hold tighten, drawing you in closer.

This wasn’t a quick hello-or-goodbye hug, and it wasn’t a bear-hug, either. It was something entirely new and yet you felt incredibly safe.

There was no clock anywhere in sight and you closed your eyes.

Minutes passed. Eventually the desperateness fled his system, and then you were just holding the other.

At half past four, the bell rang again.

The sound drifted over the campus and reached you just as you entered the deserted lot, where only Yoongi’s shabby car still stood, under the trees, half hidden by bushes.

His thumb slid over the back of your hand as he lightly tugged on your connection.

“Can I come visit your place?” You asked, once you’d sat down. He’d been to your tiny flat a few times now, but had never asked if you would like to see his.

“Are you sure?” He turned the key and glanced at you before backing out of the spot.

“Of course! I want to see the musical genius’ living space. Pretty please.”

“Don’t remind me of that dumb nickname…” He groaned, and you laughed, turning the radio up and the window down.

Warm air came rushing in, and together with the upbeat song currently playing, it felt a lot like a scene from a movie.

For the first time in weeks you felt fully free. Able to smile at the wind touching your face, knowing Yoongi was there with you.

You sat on his couch together, scrolling your phones aimlessly after thoroughly inspecting his space.

The pizza he ordered in the evening was fluffy and sated your hunger, and afterwards you were too tired to move much.

“I think… I’ll just stay here.” You gesticulated around the room, stretching and placing your legs across his lap.

He wiped his hands clean of the last grease and tugged on your shins.

“Here? You sure? I can always-”

He pressed a hand against his mouth and burped. Afterwards he groaned and fell back against the backrest.

“No, you’ll have to stay. There’s no way I’m leaving this flat again today.”

You grinned and made grabby hands for the pack of cherry gummies.

Your head was buzzing with how late it was, and how tired you’d become.

With teeth brushed, the sweet taste of cherries was long gone, but in the dark of the room, it wasn’t unwelcome.

Yoongi was lying just a little away from you, head half buried in one of his many pillows.

“Is this weird?” He asked. You heard his palm slipping over the mattress, before his fingertips touched your arm and he momentarily pulled back.

Until you put your hand out, and he curled his pinky around yours.

“Hm?”

You asked.

“I mean this… We… We’re not…” He trailed off, his other hand covering yours as he rolled over. In the darkness you could only make out his eyes by the reflection of what little light there still was, in them. “Other people our age have been partying since noon, and we…”

“Is that bad?” You asked, turning on your side to fully face him.

“No, don’t think so.”

“Do you want it, any other way?”

He shook his head.

“I just wonder… Jin asked me if we were dating the other day. I didn’t know what to say. It doesn’t feel like we are, but I also… don’t feel like we’re not doing that. It. Something. I mean we’re not doing that, either, which I never thought about, and-”

He huffed. “It feels weird, to lie here, with you, and not do anything. But I’m glad. About it. In a way.”

You smiled and squeezed his hand.

“Then that’s enough for us. Isn’t it?”

He hummed, and slowly leaned his forehead against your joined hands.

Your phone binged with an incoming message from Yoongi.

It was two weeks into the break, and after staying over at his place, you hadn’t heard or seen too much of him.

His message read 'I uploaded it.', and a link to Spotify.

You clicked on it.

A playlist opened, and you bit on your lip at the name - He'd titled it 'Your Playlist'.

While you cleaned out your notes and organized your room, you listened.

It was a mix of his self-composed piano pieces, acoustic, or electric, with mixed other instruments and occasionally his voice.

The melodies came easy and wound their way in your ears, and it brought a smile to your face at the warmth you felt at their sound.

The last one was titled “My Favourite”.

You watched as the song’s covers changed, and sat back on your rug.

What unfolded in front of your ears was different than the rest - it was a blend of sounds, playing to support your favourite song of his, but a remix version. The beat slowly wound up higher, coming faster, until it dropped - to your voice, filtered and a little tuned, to fit the short space.

‘My favourite’, you heard yourself say, and then the whisper of Yoongi’s voice answered, ‘Just for you’, and you bit down on your lip.

He sung and rapped more, and you needed at least five listens before you’d caught it all.

‘Can I come over?’ You texted him, burning with energy and the deeply rooted wish to see him.

‘ofc’ came his answer, and you were out of the door.

Not much later, halfway across town, you hugged your arms around him as tight as you could, smiling so wide it had your cheeks hurting, and yet not able to keep the tears escaping your eyes.

“I love you, too.” You mumbled into his shoulder, feeling him tense a little.

“I’m so glad you understood.” He whispered, and leaned his head against yours. “I’m so glad you understand. Me. I’m so glad you. Found me.”

notes: for alex, who i send an ask wondering if she might know how to title a story i was writing and if she'd ever heard of this weirdly specific song i could not name? and then told me i should check out this song (the title of this fic) - which ended up being the very one i'd been searching for for four days. thank you.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

U N P L A N N E D, part seven

By the end of the night at Jeff and Glenne’s, Lexi was nowhere to be found. You didn’t really mind--you didn’t feel as out of place as you’d expected and Harry had been more than happy to bring you around to different friends or familiar faces to say hello. 

A girl with dark brown hair who sang backup on his album listened excitedly as he brought her up to speed on the new plan for release. The album, originally due out in August or September was now being pushed to December. It was strategic really. 

Late summer buzz when the baby announcement came out. Winter album release, promo before and after to tide his fans over until a spring time tour, giving him the perfect span of three or four stationary months in L.A. that aligned with your maternity leave.

Genius, really. It was all thanks to Jeff and his team.

So you smiled at the girl with the dark hair and pretended you didn’t notice the fact that she kept stealing glances down at your belly, as small as it still was. 

This was the risky stage, really, when people got it wrong and asked about someone’s due date, only to be mortified when someone gave the dreaded response, I’m not pregnant. You’d seen it happen to someone else once, a woman in the checkout line at the grocery store. The cashier put her foot in her mouth and you vowed to never ask someone about their due date unless they mentioned it first. 

So you cut Laura some slack. 

“We’ll tour it next spring and summer, so you’ll have to come,” he said to his friend, a smile on his face when he lifted up his sunglasses. The sun had already sunk beneath the horizon, his cheeks were tinged pink from the hot day.

“I’ll bring your youngest audience member ever,” you revealed, letting a hand rub over your belly as you offered a smile in her direction.

“Oh, that’s so sweet! When are you due?”

“January, middle of the month. So--I might need some noise canceling headphones.”

“Hey--I make good music,” Harry pretended to take offense. 

“I didn’t say you don’t--”

“Is it yours?” Laura asked, her eyes pulling up to Harry’s face for a second, wide with shock.

Harry looked down at you, down at the bump. You could tell he was frozen, unsure of what he should say and how he should say it. 

“No--God no,” you said quickly. “It’s our friend, Peter.”

Harry’s lips twitched into a smile. “Yeah--Peter, he’s a good friend. He’s a great guy, a dream, really. Gonna be a great father.”

“He’s okay,” you made a face at Harry. “A lot to learn, probably never changed a diaper in his life.”

“He has too,” Harry defended quickly. “At least five or six.”

“Well he’ll be changing probably five or six a day.”

“That’s fine, he’ll be fine with that. He’s extremely committed to that baby.”

“Yeah, well,” you stifled a laugh. “We’ll see.”

Laura laughed, a skeptical look disappeared from her face when Glenne came up and offered dessert, effectively breaking up the conversation. Harry draped an arm over your shoulder for a split second when most people had started to make their way to the other side of the pool. 

“Just so you know, I’m gonna make you call her and explain that lie once we come out with it.”

“Deal,” you said. “I’ll tell her you had sex with your friend Peter’s girlfriend and we didn’t know who’s it was until it was born..”

“Jesus,” he laughed. “Can’t tell if you’re the funniest person I’ve met or the meanest.”

“I like to think I’m a mix of both.”

**

It was probably a good thing that you didn’t see Harry for another week after that. The onesie and the party at Jeff and Glenne’s and a completely new project at work had you feeling incredibly overwhelmed, left with only enough energy to drive home, take off your bra, and sit on the couch. 

Most nights Lexi was home. There were a few evenings when she’d meet Glenne and Jeff or stay late on set. She’d come home with leftovers or funny stories, and you’d fall asleep before 10pm. 

But you figured it was a good thing, the distance and space. The last two times you’d seen him, you left with a glow. The infatuation kind, not the pregnancy kind. That type of shit was asking for trouble. 

So you ignored the urge to call or text him. Most days he’d ask how you were feeling, what you were up to. You’d take your time to respond, give short answers and tell him you were too busy to see him. It wasn’t necessarily true, but you were tired. Too tired to drive all the way to his house in the hills and then all the way home. Especially when being around him required the self-control and restraint that it suddenly did.

You answered when he called, talked on the phone for an hour at a time some days. You told yourself it was nothing. It was normal it was normal it was normal. 

On the Wednesday of week twelve, you were scheduled to meet with the same crew: Jeff, Harry, Dave, Emma, Lola, and John. This time, the topic was a bit more hopeful. Some type of strategy meeting to talk about what type of information to release and what to keep private. 

When you woke up and started rifling through your closet, you came to a grim realization. Things weren’t fitting the same. Buttoned shirts now felt tight around the tummy, pants felt a bit snug in the waist. 

It happened overnight, really. You’d heard about the pop--when your belly finally protrudes outward and when you actually start to look pregnant, not just bloated. You didn’t know when it would come, but you certainly weren’t prepared for it to already be here.

Lexi was already gone, otherwise you’d storm into her room and make her promise you didn’t look funny. You weren’t about to FaceTime Glenne--only in fear that Jeff would be around and think you were being ridiculous. You also figured keeping your distance from him wasn’t a bad idea. 

So you settled on a dress, a casual one, and you didn’t even realize that someone might notice until you walked into work. 

Aarav didn’t even seem to look at you twice--he was too busy in his office dealing with a last minute request from Levi. Simone was busy too, and when you met up with them for lunch, you kept your tray and plate in front of you, praying and hoping that they wouldn’t notice the way you looked a bit more round. 

A text came across your phone when Aarav went on about Carson. 

Harry (12:43pm): Twelve week mark! See you at 5pm?

It was almost a relief to walk into the Westwood office building at the end of the day. It was a comfort, really, to be in a room full of people who knew your biggest secret. Harry met you in the lobby, a smile on his face when you offered a hug. 

“Look at me,” you said quietly, a few people passed by on their way out of work. “I look pregnant.”

He looked down, his brows furrowed together and his lips pushed out. He scanned your figure, a wave of relief washed over you when he spoke. “Wouldn’t have noticed if you didn’t say anything--but, you do, a bit. You look good.”

“I feel weird,” you said, following him over to the same elevators as you tried to ignore the compliment. “I used to just look bloated, but now it’s like--real.”

Once the doors shut and afforded you both some privacy, he turned to face you. 

“You look beautiful,” he said, voice quiet as the elevator whirred. “Can I--can I feel it?”

“Oh,” you looked down, a hand immediately on your own belly. You’d been doing it plenty, a force of habit, now, really. You found yourself doing it in meetings, on the phone, one hand on the steering wheel and another on the bump. “Yeah, of course you can--here,” you reached for his hand, guiding it towards you, warmth when he made contact. 

It felt a little silly. It was still just your stomach--somewhere deeper in there was a baby the size of a lime. He kept his eyes on the blue fabric of your dress, both of your hands over his until the doors opened. 

Jeff, on the other side, was caught off guard. “Hi--hey, I was just coming to find you.”

“Hi,” you said, a step back from Harry as if there was some sort of rule about proximity. 

He offered an awkward smile, motioned for you to both follow him down the same long hall, past the same rooms and chairs and windows. Harry let out a giggle under his breath, smirked in your direction, another wave of butterflies.

It was the first time you’d seen any of them since the test results, you swore Dave seemed to soften when you sat across from him, this time, Harry was beside you. 

“So,” Dave spoke, a quick glance around the room. “Good to see everyone.”

“Yeah, thanks for coming,” Jeff said, settling into his seat before he reached for a water bottle. “Lola--you’re good to start us off?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, short red hair brushed the tops of her shoulders. She smiled in your direction, much less hesitant than times before. “We’re really here today to start thinking about how we want to share this news. It’s obviously not going to stay a secret forever, so we’re wondering about different options to get in front of it--while still maintaining everyone’s safety and privacy.”

You nodded, a sideways glance in Harry’s direction.

“We have a few options, Harry, about how to do that,” Jeff explained. “We could choose an outlet to inform and let them break it. Or, we could talk about a social media post, a statement from Lola…”

He turned to look at you, caution in his eyes when you offered a small smile. Nothing felt ideal--nothing they said sounded like a good option or like it wouldn’t bring trouble. 

Up until now, really, it had just been the two of you. That was, if you didn’t count the four other people in the room, Lexi, Glenne, your mother, and his family. So, the twelve of you, really. 

Things until now were quiet and private, a small buzz that was stressful enough. You couldn’t even imagine the news spreading, questions, accusations, the ways all of the aforementioned would keep you up at night. 

Harry looked around the room. “Uh--a statement is probably best, yeah?”

“I would think so--your fans will want to hear from you though, too,” Jeff nodded.

Lola smiled, softly, in your direction. “What do you think, Y/N?”

You were shocked, really. Stammered a few things before wishing you could disappear, totally not equipped to respond to that type of question. “Uh, yeah--the statement--I don’t know, whatever you think,” you looked towards Harry, a sudden feeling in your gut that out of everyone in the room, you could trust him the most. 

“We should wait until you’re father along,” Jeff said. “Probably closer to the sixth month mark?”

You nodded--that was something you could get behind. It also gave you some more time to figure out who needed to know before then. As contractual as this had become, there were still some people in your life who’d benefit from finding out that you were pregnant with a celebrity’s baby from you, rather than on TV or online.

Lola went on to say something else, but you were too busy making a list in your brain of who that entailed. 

Levi, Simone, Aarav. Your two aunts in Oregon. Your college roommate, Brie, maybe even your father--if you could track him down. You could feel your heartbeat in your chest, more people to disappoint, more people to make the admission to: I fucked up. I didn’t check all the boxes in the right order.

“Does that sound alright?” Harry turned to get a better look at you, his eyes searched your face.

“What?”

“September,” Lola said. “Make the statement in September.”

“Sure,” you nodded. Two months away. That felt like an eternity. 

“How are you feeling about it?” Her question was directed at you, but it took you a second to realize that. Harry watched you, his eyebrows lifted as he waited for a response. 

“About having a baby?”

“About coming out with it,” Jeff said. 

You shifted in your office chair, hands clasped on your lap. “I don’t really know what to expect, to be fair.”

Jeff looked at Harry, then at Lola. 

Harry cleared his throat and rested his elbows on the table, he spoke directly to you. “I think there’ll be some people who are really upset and some who are really happy.”

“You should make your social media private,” Lola said. “That’s the majority of what comes up when I ran a google search of your name. A few things about your work if you dig really deep.”

“Which they will,” Harry said. 

“Okay,” you nodded. “Should I be, like, worried about my safety?

“No,” Jeff said. “Definitely not. If there’s anything that makes you uncomfortable we’ll assess and just get a security detail.”

Harry made a face at that, one you couldn’t read. He sat back in his chair and listened to Lola say more about the announcement and how important it was for him to set the tone once the news was out. 

You were almost as zoned out as he was, but you heard mention of make them believe you’re excited, and that’s when you decided you’d had enough. So you stared out the window, nodded every few seconds to make them think you were listening and invested and following along so you could follow the rules. 

Sure, maybe accidentally getting pregnant wasn’t the most exciting thing in the world, but Lola’s insinuation that neither of you were excited felt like a dig. Out of everyone in the room, you were the one who had to deal with the most shit. Not only did you get a baby out of one drunken night, but you also got the body changes, the hormones, and the new relationship with someone who was too famous for his own good. 

But aside from all of that--all the shit that made this stressful and terrifying and overwhelming altogether--there was still a piece of you that was excited. And it was easier to feel that later that night when you sat in the same In N’ Out parking lot as before. 

“You don’t, like, regret deciding to keep it, right?”

Your question caught him off guard. He was mid-bite and let out a bit of a cough, wiping his mouth with the backside of his hand before he looked over at you. 

“No--do you?”

“No. I don’t know. Lola said we have to act excited. As if we aren’t at all or something.”

“I know,” he said, voice quieter. “That was pretty shitty, but I don’t think she meant anything by it.”

You nodded, hoping he was right. 

“I am excited, to be clear.”

“Me too,” a nod. “I’m getting more excited. Next time we see Dr. Weston we might be able to know the sex.”

He smirked. “We already know the sex, Y/N.”

“Where’s your premonition coming from?” You laughed. “What makes you so sure?”

He laughed, a sip from his water bottle. “I think you’re going to be a really good mom no matter what. But I think you’d be especially good with a little girl.”

“You’re going to sound like such an asshole if we have a boy.”

“If we have a boy it’ll be great! He can like sports and princesses, too.”

You took another bite of your dinner, a silent prayer that this pregnancy wouldn’t turn against you and make you hate the smell of In N’ Out. “I think you’ll be a good dad, too.”

And then he did it again. He looked out the window and seemed to be somewhere else. Maybe somewhere not as congested as LA, easier and quieter and somewhere were you didn’t exist and the plum sized baby didn’t either. 

You stuck a french fry in your mouth and chewed--thankful for the fact that the silence didn’t feel uncomfortable. 

“Would you--” he turned to see you suddenly, a sigh escaping his lips. “Hear me out, okay?”

You nodded.

“Would you think I was totally, absolutely mental if I asked you to move in with me?”

Your eyes must have gone wide, maybe the color even drained from your face, because before you could answer, he rolled his eyes and looked back out the window. “I know--okay, s’fine.”

“No--I just, that’s not what I expected. At all.”

He took another breath, his words came out quick this time as if he was nervous. “I know it’s crazy, but, Jeff got me freaked out today. When he talked about getting you a security detail I thought about your apartment and I know it’s in a house and it’s a nice neighborhood but--”

You didn’t say anything. You watched as he pushed his lips to one side and then the other. 

“I could never live with myself if anything happened to you.” A pause. “Or her.”

You rolled your eyes at that, a small laugh immediately granted levity to the front seat of his car. Dimples appeared on his cheeks when he saw the smile on your face.

“I hear you, but--I’ll be fine.”

He started speaking before you even finished. “Think of it this way, too. When she’s here, we’ll want to be together, right? I mean--don’t you think you’ll want more space than what you’ve got with Lexi? Don’t you think she’ll get sick of dirty nappies and all the crying in the middle of the night? If we live together I can help more and we can go through it together.”

You thought on that for a second. There was no doubt in your mind that Lexi would eventually lose her shit and need a good amount of space from the new roommate you were both about to have. You ignored the thumping in your chest at the thought of it. You, Harry, a tiny baby in that stupid onesie he bought. It sounded perfect.

“Think about it, yeah? I’ve got plenty of room.”

You nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

**

Dave had given you the go ahead to tell your coworkers. It took three phone calls with Jeff and him and Harry, but he eventually relented. When you ended up telling him that he didn’t have to go to work trying not to puke every morning waiting for your coworkers to notice the growing bump, he gave in. 

You were relieved, that is, until Levi called a team meeting, the five of you sat around a conference table on the third floor--also known as the floor with the balance ball chairs. You had no idea how much your back had been bothered by your regular office chair until you settled in to your seat. 

“So,” Levi looked around at the four of you. “Obviously my leaving is bittersweet, I know we’ve all been working hard lately to make the transition as smooth as possible. But we obviously haven’t handled one aspect of that, which is, the new Team Lead.”

You kept a straight face, glanced over to Aarav who suddenly couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You’d been planning on telling them that afternoon, at least Aarav and Simone. Maybe you’d wait until Levi left to fill him in, maybe you’d wait until you left for maternity leave to tell Carson. 

But would Levi still choose you to fill his role if he knew you were pregnant? Bound to take a decent maternity leave right after the holidays? Right when things amped up in the New Year?

“Y/N--you’ve obviously been a huge part of our success this last year, and I spoke with Mike and Tracy about having you fill the role, if you’re interested.”

“Yes--of course I’m interested,” you smiled. “I would love to.”

“Awesome--you’re obviously all in good hands,” he said to the others, a smile in your direction again. “You and I can meet with the rest of the Marketing c-suite--it’ll be painless, I’m sure.”

Now was definitely not a good time to tell them, but, your body decided it was the perfect time for an all encompassing wave of nausea. 

“Okay--yeah, sounds good.” You tried to wrap things up, looked over at Simone, hopeful she’d follow your lead. 

“When’s your last day, again?” Carson closed his laptop, if you weren’t doing your best to keep your lunch down, you’d be more surprised that he wasn’t as bitter as you’d expected him to be.

“August 5th.” 

You stood from the table, beads of sweat on your forehead. Aarav gave you a look, Simone was too busy on her phone. 

Levi started to gather his belongings. “We’ll get everything sorted out, too, about who’s going to take on some of Y/N’s responsibilities. Most things will stay the same, but, I think Mike wants to hire someone else to do some more of the graphic work, too.”

“I’m so sorry--” you said, embarrassed to rush out of a meeting like this. “I have to go--uh, make a phone call, really quick.

Again, Aarav looked at you like you’d started speaking another language. 

“Yeah, go ahead, no worries,” Levi looked suspicious too, but he turned back to Carson.

You bolted for the door, down the hall, no idea where the nearest bathroom was. Water fountain, lounge area, vending machine. Where the fuck was the bathroom?

You found it around the corner, barely making it into a stall before throwing up, desperately trying to pull your sticky hair away from your face when your knees met the floor.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Simone was behind you--the carpet of the hallway had apparently quieted her footsteps. You reached for toilet paper and wiped your mouth, thankful that no one else had witnessed your close call. The only thing worse than throwing up at work was throwing up on the floor at work.

You flushed, stood back up and offered a smile. “Yeah--sorry--bad lunch, I guess.”

“Are you pregnant?”

“What?” You laughed, waving a hand before wiping at your mouth again. “No--that’s crazy!”

She raised an eyebrow at you.

A sigh. “Fine,” you said. “I am. But--you can’t tell them yet, okay?”

Her lips threatened to curl upwards, but she caught herself. “Are you--was it on purpose?”

“No,” a wave of embarrassment replaced the nausea in your stomach. “It was completely unplanned.”

“Who’s the father?”

Dave had been clear on the phone. If you have to tell them, we’ll prepare NDAs for them to sign. 

“You don’t know him.”

Maybe she did. 

“Is it that guy you’ve been seeing?”

“Yeah--we’re just friends.”

“Who have sex?”

“Just once.”

“Holy shit!”

“I know--I wanted to tell you!”

She pouted, an understanding look on her face. “That’s why you won’t have margaritas with us.”

“Busted.”

“How are you doing with it? Does your mom know?”

You thought on that for a second--it had been a while since someone asked. Harry was inquiring quite frequently, but you were also at the point now where you gave him a daily update about any symptoms. Jeff and Glenne and Lexi would check in, too, of course, but Simone was asking you on a deeper level. 

She was asking if you were losing your shit altogether and having recurring panic attacks when you’d try to fall asleep. 

“I’m okay,” you said, a confident nod. “I was freaked at first, and I am, still, a little--but, it’s been going okay.”

“Are you going to tell Aarav?”

“Yeah, yeah--I was gonna let both of you know today, but then Levi dropped that shit.”

“How dare he promote you,” she teased, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well I couldn’t exactly follow that up with thanks so much, I’ll need three months maternity leave in January.”

“A January baby!” She threw her arms around you. “How far are you?”

“Thirteen weeks.”

She let go, looked you up and down. “You’ll be fine, you can totally handle this. Is the father supportive so far?”

You nodded, ignoring the tiny shred of fear that tried to squeeze it’s way up into your brain. “So far, yeah.”

But how long would that last? How long would Harry be interested in having dinner and hanging out? When would he get sick of you and when would he realize that he didn’t have to do this?

He had more options than either of you had mentioned. Harry was acting like his only option was to be completely, totally, one hundred percent involved, or the exact opposite. 

But you felt like the more realistic option was somewhere in the middle, right? He’d visit and have the baby for weekends, go off on tour and you’d FaceTime him every so often to make sure they didn’t lose touch. You’d be the one to handle the skinned knees and all of the tears, but he’d be the fun dad that would swoop in and get to take them for ice cream or out to dinner. 

He’d send a check, eventually. After things died down and he realized that it didn’t make sense for you to live together or be more than co-parents or anything like that. He’d help financially and you’d have to get a nanny if you were going to keep your job--which, as a single mom, you’d have to.

Simone brought you back to your office, smiling excitedly when you told Aarav the news, making them both promise to keep it quiet for now. You didn’t tell them who, you didn’t disclose the name of the guy who had suddenly lodged himself in a strange space in your heart and your head. Because if you did, you’d have to tell them you were also afraid he’d leave. And speaking that out loud was too much to handle.

**

Harry was a regular at Dr. Weston’s office, so much so that you found it a bit embarrassing how he knew the nurses by name and proclaimed proudly in the waiting room that he’d read every pamphlet they had. 

For someone who has to keep this pregnancy low-key, shouting excitedly in the waiting room is the opposite of that, you told him.

So he followed you back into the exam room yet again, but this time with a pout on his face after the nurse left you alone. 

“What’s your problem?”

He held a hand over his eyes to offer you privacy when you changed, the gown in his outstretched hand. “You don’t even care that I’m extremely well read.”

“One of those was a pamphlet about gestational diabetes--which I don’t even have.” You took the gown and stepped into it, tying it in the back before climbing up on the table. 

He took his hands away without even asking if you were clothed, rolling his eyes and making a face. “I’m just trying to care, okay? However will you forgive me?” 

You fought back the laugh that tried to crawl up from your belly. “I appreciate your caring. And your reading.”

“Good,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he sat back in his seat. “You should. Where do you want to go to dinner tonight?”

You thought on it for a second. “Know any good barbeque places? Some ribs sound so good.”

His eyebrows lifted, he watched you for a second. 

“What?” You asked, a sudden nervousness in your chest. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He broke eye contact for a second, let out a tiny laugh and then looked back up at you, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Just didn’t know it’d be that easy to get you to hang out with me.”

“Oh shut up,” you said with a laugh, adjusting on top of the sanitary paper. “I’m hungry. It’s almost dinnertime anyway.”

“The only bad news is that I don’t know a good barbeque place.”

“That is bad news,” you said. “There’s one near my house. We can just go there. Or--get take out,” you corrected. 

Okay, so maybe it bothered you a little bit. At this point, feeling like you were a secret and the baby inside of you was a secret was a recipe for feeling like a big, old, shameful one night stand that he probably regretted. But you weren’t about to tell him that. 

“Is Lexi home tonight?”

You nodded.

“We could invite Glenne and Jeff, too, if you want. Or it could be just us, that’s fine.”

You didn’t have a chance to answer, though you wanted to say either would be fine. Dr. Weston knocked and offered a smile, how are both parents feeling? 

She asked the same questions: new symptoms? Any bleeding? Mood? Appetite? Headaches? You answered and nodded along, listening to the advice she gave about any lower back soreness as you started to really gain some weight. 

When she had the ultrasound machine on and when you had laid back and assumed the position, Harry pulled his chair up to be right next to you.

“Definitely growing in there,” Dr. Weston smiled, reaching up to point at the screen. 

“Wow--she actually looks like a baby now.”

“Yeah,” Dr. Weston laughed a bit. “Less of a plum and more a baby.” But she turned, after that, her eyebrows furrowing at the screen before she looked at Harry again. “How did you know it’s a girl?”

“It’s a girl?” you asked, lifting yourself on your elbows to look at the screen closer. “How do you know?”

She turned the screen to show you better, moved the probe along your lower tummy. “Well--if she weren’t, we’d see something right there between her legs.”

“So I’m right?” He looked at you with wide eyes, a smug look of excitement on his face. “We’re having a girl?”

“You are,” Dr. Weston nodded. “I hope it’s okay that you know now.”

Harry clapped his hands together and stood from his seat. “I knew it, Y/N. I totally called it.”

“It’s fine that we know, we wanted to,” you assured her. Harry had already grabbed his phone, likely bragging to Jeff and Glenne that he’d been right. “Now I just have to deal with this know it all, now.”

“Well congratulations,” she removed the probe and clicked a few things on the screen. “Fourteen weeks and everything looks great.”

You smiled, sat up and looked over at Harry, he looked up from his phone and smiled at you. “S’a girl.”

“I know,” you nodded, voice quiet. 

Dr. Weston ducked out of the room quietly, saying she’d see you soon before shutting the door to offer privacy.

“Did you already tell everyone we know?”

“No,” he laughed, letting his phone call into his pocket. “Just my mum and sister.”

You hopped down from the table and he handed you your clothes. 

“Are you happy it’s a girl?”

“I’m happy she’s healthy, and that I’m healthy,” you laughed. “But yes--a girl will be fun.”

“We’d make anything fun,” he said, stepping forward to wrap his arms around your shoulders, the fabric of the gown was scratchy on your skin. You looked up at him, and for a second, you wondered how it would feel to kiss him.

**

Jeff’s mouth was wide open, he was still, a look of shock on his face as Glenne let out a laugh loud enough that the neighbor’s might complain.

“Don’t,” Harry groaned, his eyes pleading with you to not embarrass him any further. 

“They were expired?!” Lexi’s eyes were wide, she looked between the two of you from her spot on the floor, take out on her lap. “That’s fucked man.”

“I didn’t know they were, obviously!” He defended.

Glenne shrugged her shoulders. “Just getting laid that infrequently.” 

“Alright, s’not my primary residence.”

“So wait,” Jeff said. “When did you find this out?”

A drop in your stomach, the nervous kind like you’d said the wrong thing. 

“When she was over once for dinner. Gave her the grand tour and we obviously had to stop by the scene of the crime,” Harry borrowed the language you once used to describe his sprawling bedroom. 

“He can definitely cook but apparently he doesn’t read expiration dates,” you laughed.

“So it’s all your fault,” Lexi laughed, reaching for another drink. “Bet that was tough news.”

Your eyes flashed over to Jeff, curious to see his reaction. In a way, Lexi wasn’t wrong. Sure--you’d fed Harry the response that it’s no one’s fault, and yeah, okay, you could live with that being the agreement everyone settled on. 

But it was also nice to know that it wasn’t anything you did. 

Harry rolled his eyes and pushed himself up off the couch when his phone rang. “One day you’re all going to feel terrible for saying that when you’re in love with our baby. It’s John--I’ll take it outside.”

Jeff followed behind him when Harry signaled for him to, the back door to the patio and small yard slid shut behind them.

“How ya been doin’ lately?” Glenne asked, leaning forward to grab the glass of wine she’d been nursing. 

“Fine,” you said. 

“Yeah?” She eyed you skeptically, Lexi dunked her fork into her green curry. 

“I’m handling the stress and constant anxiety as best as I can,” you admitted.

Glenne pouted. “What are you anxious about?” 

You let out a sigh, hesitant to say anything that would make her feel in the middle. “I just feel like Jeff thinks I fucked everything up or did this on purpose.”

Lexi sipped at her glass of wine. “What makes you think that?”

“I dunno--every time we’re all together I feel like he wants me to maintain a six foot distance or something.”

“He can’t tell you what to do or how to interact with him, Y/N,” Glenned tried to reassure you. “All he can do is give advice or give his input.”

“What if his input to Harry is that he shouldn’t ever talk to me or see me?”

“Bitch, you outrank him!” Lexi sat up straight and looked at you like you were losing your mind. “He’s his manager, he’s a friend. You are the mother of that man’s child. You are going to push his baby through your coochie!”

You let out a laugh, threw her a sideways glance. “I mean, I don’t know if outrank is fair.”

Glenne held up a hand, trying to get her two cents in before Lexi went off again. “He’s not mad--I don’t know why you think he’s mad.”

“Okay--fine, he’s not mad. But do you really want to try to convince me that I’m his favorite person on the planet right now?”

She rolled her eyes at that. “Y/N--he’s stressed. His client got his girlfriend’s friend knocked up. This is all going to explode into a thousand crazy headlines and he’s trying to keep it all somewhat contained. He loves you.”

You let out a long sigh at that, looked through the sliding door and watched as Harry gestured wildly, the phone sat on the small patio table between them. Jeff laughed at something he said and sipped at the beer that Harry was undoubtedly jealous of. 

Jeff had always thought you were funny. You knew that. When you got a good amount of tequila in you, you were no stranger to comedy or outrageous accents with Lexi and Glenne. Jeff would laugh his head off and there was even one time he made you drunkenly take obnoxious snapchat selfies with the stupid filters. It was probably the highlight of your relationship. 

So that night, after dinner was eaten and Netflix was watched, you tried to harness the courage that Lexi and Glenne had instilled in you. 

When Jeff came out of the bathroom, Glenne pulled herself up from a couch, a dramatic groan escaped her mouth when she smiled over at you and stretched. “Alright, my dear. Eat well, sleep well, take care of that sweet little muffin.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “So far, so good.”

Lexi had already retreated to her room, beauty sleep, y’all. Jeff waited as Glenne put her wine glass in the sink, hands on his hips. “Are you hitting the road too?”

His question was directed at Harry. He shifted on the couch. “Uh--might stay for a bit, if that’s alright?” 

Now he looked at you, and once again, you wondered if this sort of thing was allowed. An awkward look in Jeff’s direction, Glenne’s eyes were a bit wide, a smirk threatened to twist her lips into a full blown smile. 

“Yeah,” you said, looking around at all of them. “S’fine.”

You were all for following the rules and doing what you needed to do to protect everyone. But something about watching another episode of The Office on Netflix with the father of your child felt pretty safe. And maybe Glenne was right. Maybe you did outrank him. And if you didn’t, maybe one day you would. 

“Alright, well, we’ll see you both at some point in the next week, I’m sure.”

“Are we on for Saturday night still? With Tom?”

“Yeah,” Jeff said, watching as Glenne grabbed her purse from the counter. “I’ll text you.”

They said their goodbyes and headed out the front door, when it clicked into place you looked over at Harry. 

“Would you actually tell me if Jeff hated me?”

“Why would he hate you?”

“Because you got me pregnant.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” he shook his head, a smile tugged at his lips. “S’my fault, remember?”

“He might not see it that way.”

He rolled his eyes at you. “I just know.”

“How do you know?”

“Trust me, I would know if he hated you. He’s a terrible liar. He’d never be able to hang out with you if he didn’t like you.”

You were quiet, looked back down at the remote in your hands and picked at the skin around your thumb. 

He turned himself towards you on the couch, his voice quiet in the living room. “Why are you nervous about that?”

You shrugged, trying to fight back a smile. “I’m still trying to get over the whole fear about ruining your life.”

He rolled his eyes at that, a laugh escaping his lips when his arm reached up to the back of the couch. “You’re ridiculous! I can tell you a thousand times and you won’t believe me.”

“Probably not.”

“You didn’t ruin my life.”

“Okay.” You stood from the couch and moved towards the kitchen, bringing the glass that Lexi had left behind over to the dishwasher. 

He followed behind, watched with narrowed eyes as you tried to tidy. “I mean it,” he laughed. 

You turned around, hands on the counter as you looked at him. It was late, the light in Lexi’s room was off, you hoped she didn’t have her ear pressed up against the door. Mostly because you didn’t want her to hear what you said next. 

“I just don’t want you to leave.”

He took a step forward, brows furrowed. “Tonight?”

“No--like, in general.”

His lips parted at that, a pause before he sighed, another step forward. 

“Sorry,” you said quickly. “I didn’t mean to be weird. I’m just--scared sometimes.”

“I know,” he was close now, his chest almost pressed against yours. His fingers reached up and tugged at the hem of your shirt, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded, stared down at the floor now as if looking up in his eyes would somehow make it more risky. As if ignoring the fear and the doubt and everything that bubbled inside of you when you tried to get your mind off of it would keep you safe, keep her safe. 

His hand nudged at your chin, lifted it up so you had to look at him. Something in his eyes felt promising--or maybe it was the way you felt his lips curl into a smile once they were pressed against yours.

table of contents | talk to me + join the tag list

**author’s note: **FINALLY!!!!! No but really, thank god. It’s been tough to wait to share that with you. Things are finally heating up in here! You know I’m a fucking sucker for a slow burn.

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[lallyloo]

The Sno-Cone Date

(A sequel to The Ball Pit)

 The crowd at the ball pit started growing around 5pm. The pit was soon filled to capacity, and a line formed which ran past the raffle table and curved out of sight. Rhett became preoccupied with the ball pit schedule and making sure everyone got out when they were supposed to so the next group of kids could get in, and he quickly lost track of time.

He didn’t realise it was almost 6pm until he spotted Link in the crowd. He was looking at Rhett expectantly, eyebrows raised, smile still plastered on his face.

When the clock hit six, Rhett gave instructions to the next person on ball pit duty and then quickly got the hell out of there. He could see Link moving through the vast group of people and they met up at the edge of the crowd.

“You ready for our date?”

Rhett huffed out a laugh. “Is it a date?”

“Well, yeah,” Link grinned, somehow managing to bump against him as they walked. It was like a strange form of flirting – Link’s arm knocking against his, Link’s elbow jabbing him in the side, and Link looking over at him and grinning the whole time. “I already kissed you, now you gotta take me for a sno-cone.”

“I thought the sno-cone was so you’d stop throwing balls at me.”

Link shrugged and jabbed Rhett in the ribs with his elbow, “whatever you wanna tell yourself, McLaughlin.”

Link grabbed him by the wrist and led him to the sno-cone booth.

Link looked over the flavors, making disgusted faces at the ones he didn’t like.

“What’re you getting?”

“Lemon lime,” Rhett replied. “You?”

“Grape.”

They ordered, and Rhett paid, and then Link was dragging him to a picnic table to sit down. They were too busy crunching on flavored ice to talk much, but every time Link looked over at him Rhett could see that the grape sno-cone was quickly staining his lips a reddy purple color.

“Your lips are purple.” Rhett pointed, and Link leaned over and pressed his mouth to Rhett’s arm. His lips were sticky and cold, and suddenly Rhett really wanted to kiss him again. When Link pulled away he left a faint purple lip print on Rhett’s skin.

Link grinned at him. “You have fun at the ball pit?”

“I guess,” Rhett shrugged. “It was pretty easy.”

“Well I had fun.”

“At the ball pit?”

Link nodded, taking another bite of his sno-cone. “Throwin’ balls at you.” He grinned at Rhett again, “you were lookin’ pretty mad.”

“I was.”

“You still mad?”

“Not really.”

“Yeah, ‘cause we’re on a sno-cone date.” Link leaned over and put his mouth on Rhett’s arm again, slipping his tongue out to give Rhett a little lick. “Is it cold?”

Rhett shivered. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Link repeated, and he stared up at Rhett, his eyes darting from Rhett’s eyes to his mouth, “your lips look cold too.”

Rhett’s tongue darted out to lick them for a second and Link was grinning again.

“You done?”

Rhett nodded. He still had some ice left but the flavor was mostly gone, and he was suddenly anxious to be somewhere alone with Link.

Link grabbed Rhett’s ice-filled cup and crushed it against his own, and then he ran over to toss the cups in the trashcan.

“C’mon McLaughlin!” he called, motioning for Rhett to follow him.

When they reached the haunted house Link pulled two tickets from his pocket.

Rhett reached in his own pocket for cash, “I can pay you back for that.”

“No way,” Link replied. “You got me a sno-cone, I can get this.”

It was the first seemingly normal thing Link had said, and Rhett just stared at him for a second while Link stared back at him.

“I mean, I gotta pay for something for my boy.”

Rhett nearly choked on air. “I’m your boy now?”

Link grinned. “Aren’t you?”

Rhett just smiled and shook his head, not entirely sure how to reply.

Then the line was moving ahead and it was their turn to enter the haunted house. Link handed over the tickets and he pushed Rhett ahead of him as they stepped into the darkness.

They moved down a narrow walkway and Link was pressed up to Rhett from behind, clinging onto his shirt. Someone jumped out at them from the right side and Rhett let out a nervous laugh while Link yelped behind him.

“Go go go,” Link whispered, pushing Rhett ahead, trying to get them past the jump scare.

They reached a turn and Rhett stopped and peeked around it before continuing on. His eyes were adjusting to the darkness, but it was still difficult to see exactly where to go. Every so often they would hear a scream from up ahead as the people in front of them reached a jump scare scene and Link would jolt a little at the sound.

Someone jumped out from the left side, and Rhett laughed again while Link shrieked and jittered.

As they rounded the next corner someone jumped out from the right, holding a realistic looking severed head, and Rhett reached back as if to protect Link as he trembled up against him. Link grabbed hold of one of Rhett’s hands and kept it back there with him, holding onto it with both of his as they walked, and Rhett could feel Link’s hands shaking around his.

“You okay back there?”

Link laughed against his shirt, “not really.”

Rhett smiled as he lead them through the darkness. “I got ya.”

Link stopped suddenly and pulled Rhett’s hand to make him turn around, and he nearly knocked Rhett over in the small space as he pushed himself against him. Link’s hands were moving, clamoring to find Rhett’s face and pull him in so they could kiss in the darkness.

Link tasted sweet, like artificial grape flavor, and his lips were still cool from the ice. His tongue slipped out and licked at Rhett’s mouth and Rhett grabbed onto his hips, holding Link to him as he tried to get in as many kisses as he could.

After a moment, Rhett pulled away. “We gotta keep moving.”

Link went up on his toes to kiss him one more time. “You taste good.”

“So do you.”

Rhett grabbed Link’s hand and pulled him along the walkway.

The next jump scare left Link trembling against Rhett’s back and Rhett could hear him laughing hysterically, as if he was caught somewhere between amused and terrified.

When they reached the next dark walkway Link grabbed him again and kissed him, tasting his mouth, and Rhett could only kiss him back, meeting each swipe of his sweet tongue with a lick of his own.

“We should just stay here.” Link pressed his hips into Rhett’s. “No one will know.”

“We can’t,” Rhett whispered with a laugh, “someone will be comin’ along after us.”

Link kissed him one more time and pulled away with a dramatic sigh.

“C’mon,” Rhett said, taking his hand and leading him along. “I think we’re almost at the end.”

“We are?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“That was way too short.”

Rhett just shrugged and kept walking.

When they reached the next jump scare Link jolted but didn’t seem as hysterical as last time and he just pushed Rhett along, as if he was anxious to get to the next dark area so they could be alone again.

As they reached the last corner, Rhett could see light up ahead from the exit. Link grabbed him one more time, nearly knocking him into the makeshift wall.

Link was moving faster this time as if he was trying to expend all of his energy before they had to leave. His lips smacked over Rhett’s, kissed over his chin and slipped down to suck at his neck. It felt so good, the wet little sucks teasing at Rhett’s skin, and his brain vaguely wondered how he was going to explain the little hickeys to his parents.

Rhett pulled away a bit and dipped his head down, finding Link’s neck in the darkness, and he gave a soft suck to the tender skin there.

Link sighed into his ear, “ahh Rhett yeah..” and the use of his actual name nearly drove Rhett crazy.

He was rushing suddenly, trying to touch Link as much as possible before they had to head to the exit. His fingertips dug into Link’s hips, holding Link still as he licked and sucked over him, tasting his skin, slicking a wet mark over Link’s adam’s apple and across to the other side of his neck to give him another suck.

Link had a hold on Rhett’s head, hands smoothing over his buzz cut again, and Link let out a panting breath as he asked, “are you my boy yet?”

“Yeah,” Rhett panted back, sucking a dark mark into Link’s neck. “Yeah, I’m your boy.”

They stayed for only a moment longer before making their way to the exit.

Once they were outside Link ran over to the ticket stand and bought two more tickets for the haunted house so they could go through again.

[redrobin-detective]

Maybe for the No Secret Identities AU, how a post- Red Robin Tim responds as he realizes that everyone’s identity has been compromised?

In his worst nightmares he never imagined it could have gone this way. He’d run through dozens of scenarios in his mind, worked his way plan after plan in case of the worst. It was always in the midst of battle or in an alternate reality. It didn’t happen on Tuesdays just after 5pm. You didn’t hear things like this on the television you just happened have running in the background. 

‘top story for this evening, it appears someone has put up a list on the internet of all the major heroes currently operating. Some of America’s most beloved heroes, such as Superman are normal people outside of the costume while others are more recognizable. Gotham’s favorite son, Bruce Wayne, was revealed to be Gotham’s most infamous son, the Batman. The Wayne Estate cannot be reached for comm-’

Tim immediately closed everything else he was doing and went to work sorting through the damage. According to his quick search, the report was put up online less than 12 minutes ago. It’s already been taken down but copies are still circulating. His heart rate hammers as he quickly scans the list and sees no less than a hundred secret identities out there in the open. He even sees his own name on there, though he’s listed under the collective Robin category along with the others. Either this mysterious source doesn’t know of his costume change or, more likely, they don’t know his new codename. He takes a second to sit back in his chair and process this disaster. He mourns his loss of freedom, how this is going to affect his life, his work, his friends, before he sets to work. Tim makes a call he never thought he’d make. 

“O, are you there? We have a Code Alpha,” He said into the mic as he worked on taking down as many copies of the report as he can. It was a futile effort but if he could just slow down the spread, it could give the others some time before the villains and politicians got their act together.

“No shit, welcome to the party,” Barbara snarled sounding uncharacteristically frazzled. He could hear her frantic typing in the background. “Unless you’re here to magically make things better, get lost.”

“What do you need from me?” Tim asked. “How can I help?”

“Fuck,” Barb cursed again but it had an angry, defeated ring to it. That told Tim more than anything just how bad the situation really was to shake the All-Seeing Oracle. “Send an emergency message to everyone, from Animal Man to Zatanna. It just dropped so we need to tell them that their IDs are burnt and to get to safety. The Watchtower and Hall of Justice won’t hold everyone plus they’re regulated by international governments.”

“Mount Justice is registered but its been abandoned, that won’t be the first place they’ll look,” Tim supplied. “We have several other bases throughout the world, we might have to split up and coordinate over the Network. Can you get us a feed off the radar?”

“Probably,” Babs sighed, “just give me some time, I have so much else to do first just spread the word.”

“I will,” Tim nodded, “are you somewhere safe?”

“I’m at the Clocktower but I’ll be moving soon. Cassandra and Lady Blackhawk are here. I need to finish a few things and then we’ll be moving. What about you, your address is publicly listed.”

“I can be out in 10, I’ll send the message and head out, I’ll check out the Cave first. Have you,” he paused, “have you heard from B, or the others?”

“No,” she responded quietly. “I can’t get through to anyone but I’ve been too busy with everything else to press harder. By sending the message, you’re going to be the one people contact. Forward every hero and their status to me when you hear.”

“Got it,” Tim grimaced, “I’ll see you soon.”

But Barb was already gone, continuing to put out as many fires as she could but what do you do when the whole world is in flames? How do you fight that? Do you let the fire take you or do you learn to become fire proof. No time for philosophy now, reports been up 16 minutes now, he needs to move fast.

All heroes associated with the JLA have an emergency override on their communicators intended for situations like this. It’s been used twice before and now Tim hits it for a third time. Hell, he probably should be in costume or at least combed his hair. The screen lights up and he’s recording.

“My name is Red Robin, I am a partner of Batman’s and the Justice League and we have been compromised. A report has been put online with the identities of Earth’s heroes. You need to get out, right now. Secure your loved ones as best you can but dispose of your cell phone, computer, anything that can hacked and tracked. I’m transmitting coordinates to your nearest JLA base where you will meet up to receive further instruction. As soon as you get the coordinates, I’m going to destroy the communicator via an electromagnetic pulse so remember them.” He paused for a quick steadying breath. “This is our most desperate hour, but we need to stay calm and band together. We are heroes, we can overcome anything. Be smart, stay safe, Red Robin out.”

He closed his eyes. It was an awful job to be the bearer of bad news. How many heroes were simply going about their normal day when Tim’s message came through. How many were having their world fall apart because of his words? No time to dwell on what was lost, not if they were going to make it out of this alive. His phone buzzed. 

“Good fucking morning!” Jason shouted over the roar over his motorcycle going way over the speed limit. “Got your message, I’m on my way to your place so be ready to leave in 5. I have confirmation from O, BB, Demon, Blondie and Alfie, no word yet on Wing or B.”

“You don’t-” Tim began, always a bit on edge around the ever unpredictable Red Hood.

“The shit has hit the fan, Timbo,” the man screamed. “We don’t have any time for petty disagreements. “We got the whole damn world after us, family’s gotta stick together. Whether we wanted it or not, we’re all we got. You have 4 minutes, be ready.”

Tim huffed as the phone disconnected even as he readied his go bag. Jason was probably right for once. They don’t have the luxury of in-fighting, of silly squabbles over things that don’t matter. This is a matter of life and death, and their way of life has now ended. Everything from now on is going to be Us vs Them. He chuckled as he set his computers and tech to wipe all data, it’s ironic that an attempt to take down the heroes has brought them together. 

In the span of minutes, their entire world was flipped. Nothing would be the same from here on out but at least he would standing alongside his friends and family. 

[fluffy-marshmallow-heart]

20 Seconds of Courage -Part 6

The Elementalist AU

Beckett x MC (Oriana)

Words: 2795

Warnings: NSFW

Catch up Here

  Beckett was in the kitchen making breakfast for a very hungover Oriana. It was very early, much earlier than he would ever wake, but he knew she’d have to go home to grab some clothes. When the spread was ready, he went back upstairs to wake her.

“Hey, wake up Ori.” He murmured, laying down beside her and brushing her hair out of her face.

A groan came out, one of her hands flying to her head. “Oh my god.”

“I have Tylenol waiting for you, along with some bacon and toast. Need to soak up that alcohol.” He told her quietly.

She peeked one eye open. “Beckett? Why are you in my apartment?”

He frowned. “You’re in my apartment.”

She groggily looked around at her surroundings. “Oh.”

“Do you remember coming here?” He asked

She shook her head, wincing with the movement. “Did you pick me up?”

Anger started bubbling up inside him again. She doesn’t even remember. “No. You showed up here drunk off your ass. Now get up and get moving. We have work in a couple hours.”

“Crap, I need to go home.” She muttered.

“Yeah, you do. I’ll call my driver. There’s food and Tylenol downstairs. So get moving.” He said coldly, standing back up and leaving the room. He’d been planning on eating with her, but right now he just wanted her to leave. He went into the kitchen, fixing a container and shoving the food inside. A few minutes later, she came downstairs.

“The car will be here any minute.” He said, not looking up. “Here’s your food.” He turned around, shoving the container across the island to her. “You’re already standing next to the Tylenol and water. I suggest you take it.”

She stared at him a moment. “What’s wrong with you?”

He rose an eyebrow. “I just need to get ready for work.”

“You’re acting cold. Why?”

He sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. “Seriously, Oriana, take the damn Tylenol.”

She complied before walking over to him, placing her hands on his hips. “Now tell me what’s going on with you.”

“I really don’t know how to be more clear with you.” He snapped. “I like you. I want more than whatever this is. So some jerk made you feel like crap. You were only together a couple months, are you madly in love with him or something?”

Hurt flashed in her eyes, and she took a step back. “We weren’t supposed to do this more than once. Somehow you keep convincing me this is a great thing.”

He scoffed. “Last night you said you returned my feelings. Was it a lie? Did you lie to me?”

“I don’t even remember coming here!”

“Then answer the question now. We’ll forget what you said last night. Do you or don’t you have any type of feelings for me?”

She cast her gaze to the ground. “I….”

Before she could answer, the intercom buzzed. “Mr. Harrington, Ms. Miller’s car has arrived.”

He stood there, waiting, but Oriana couldn’t give him an answer, at least…not one of them.

“I’m not in love with Jason. I never was. And yes, he’s a jerk and he made me feel like crap.”

“And the rest?”

She chewed her lip but hesitated long enough for Beckett to roll his eyes. “Your chariot awaits.” He walked to the door and opened it, beckoning her to leave. She swallowed hard…and left. He slammed the door behind her, back to being completely furious.

When Oriana arrived at the office, she only felt slightly better than she had before the Tylenol. Not only was she hungover, but now the one person she’s come to rely on is mad at her and basically kicked her out of his apartment. She’d gone home and showered fast, pulling new clothes on even faster, then hustled to the office, leaving her hair to air dry.

As she approached the office she shared with Beckett, she noticed the door was closed. She didn’t hear anything from the inside. Opening the door, she spotted him on his cell phone pinching the bridge of his nose, seemingly having an intense argument with someone. As soon as he noticed her, he hung up quickly and she could swear she saw a look of guilt cross his features.

“Oriana.” He greeted curtly.

“Hey, Be…”

“You forgot your food. I added a couple more Tylenol as well too. And your coffee.” He pointed to the container, the pills, and the steaming cup of coffee.

“You…why? I really thought you were pissed at me?” She questioned

“Oh, I am. But we have a job to do and you need to be on your game. I’m not going to pick up your slack because you felt like getting wasted on a work night.”

Her mouth fell open. “What the hell is that matter with you today?”

“Shut the door. We don’t need everyone in our business.”

Oriana furrowed her eyebrows, turned around and shut the door before walking back over to the desk. “You’re really that mad that I wouldn’t confirm my feelings for you when I was massively hungover?”

“I’m here to do a job, and I’m depending on you to help.” He responded, ignoring her question. “If you go out and drink yourself to death every time Jason says something you don’t like, it’s going to be a problem. Not only do I care for you, but I care about this job. I have a lot riding on this project, and you are not going to ruin it for me.”

Oriana flinched, feeling the sting of his words. “I have no intention of ruining anything, Beckett. I am damn good at my job. Don’t forget I’ve been here longer than you have, I have seniority here.”

“Coulda fooled me.” He muttered, his eyes reverting back to the papers sprawled in front of him.

Oriana hands balled into fists. “You’re being very irrational.”

“I need to know what you think of this.” He ignored her again.

“Beckett.”

He sighed. “I’m not having this argument in the office, Ori.”

She was both surprised and hurt by how fast he’d shut her out. “Thank you for breakfast.” She said quietly. “I can’t believe you brought it in for me. You could have eaten it yourself.”

“I made it for you.” He shrugged. “But I did steal some bacon. Because who doesn’t love bacon.”

She couldn’t stop the giggle from coming. “vegetarians.”

He shook his head vehemently. “That’s usually a lifestyle choice. If they weren’t vegetarians I bet they would love bacon.”

This time she laughed. “But some people medically need to be vegetarian.”

“That’s not the point, Ori. The point is, of people who can and do eat bacon…they love bacon.”

“I love bacon too. In fact…I love all kinds of meat.” She said flirtatiously.

“I literally have no idea what you mean by that.”

She sauntered back over to him, sitting in his lap, grinding against him. “I especially like your…meat.” She leaned in to kiss him…and he leaned back, turning his face away.

“We need to work.”

“Beckett.”

“Honestly, Oriana, I’m not playing these games with you.”

She stood up. “Don’t you think that’s a bit unfair? Weren’t you already single? I hooked up with you the same day I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me just a few weeks ago. And you seem practically ready for marriage.”

“Do not put words in my mouth that I didn’t say.” He fumed. “Just because I have feelings for you doesn’t mean I’m rushing out to buy a ring. Now, if you are incapable of working with me in a simply professional manner, then I suggest you ask for a different assignment.”

She shook her head sadly. “You know what? I’m glad you never got my text message last night.”

He snapped his head back up. “What?”

“I found it in draft. Turns out I never sent it. I’m really glad, because then I’d have to somehow take it all back.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Enlighten me, then. What did this message say?”

“My real feelings apparently.”              

“And they are…?”

“Forget it.” She snarled. “There’s probably a reason I didn’t send it.”

“because you were drunk.”

“Because I knew I couldn’t trust them. I couldn’t trust you.” She grabbed a stack of papers out of her briefcase, sitting opposite him at the desk. “And goddamn it why don’t we have our own desks?”

Beckett said nothing, just leaned over his projections and began to work. Oriana did the same, the two of them working mostly in silence the rest of the day. At 5pm she gathered her things.

“Hey, Beck…” She started. “Thank you…for taking care of me last night. You never said exactly what happened.”

He watched her fiddling around, trying to take more time than necessary. “You showed up, late. I put you to bed. That’s all.”

“I was already asleep, wasn’t I? There’s no money missing from my wallet and I called a cab.”

“I covered it. It was nothing.”

She looked at him expectantly, but he never even glanced at her. “Well, uh…see you tomorrow?”

“Yup. See you tomorrow.” He responded shortly.

She left the building feeling hurt and to her surprise…completely devasted. She went home and flopped down on her couch, having no idea what to do. No, that wasn’t even true. She knew what she wanted to do, she wanted to fix things with Beckett. After a couple hours of internally debating, she grabbed her purse and left for his penthouse.

She strode inside, greeting the guard. I’m here to see Beckett Harrington.”

The guard nodded. “Good to see you again Ms. Miller.”

She frowned. She doesn’t recognize this guy. “I’m sorry, I…”

“It’s okay miss, you were asleep. It’s a good thing Mr. Harrington has a soft spot for you. If you weren’t on his permanent visitor list…well. You certainly wouldn’t have had such comfortable sleeping arrangements. I’m happy to see you looking recovered.” He swiped for Beckett’s penthouse before stepping out of the elevator. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Wait!” She cried, sticking her hand out to stop the doors from closing. “What do you mean, he has a soft spot for me?”

The guard shrugged. “You’re the only person allowed to come and go as they please. Other than him, of course. If you weren’t on that list, you would have spent the night in jail.”

She stood stunned as the elevator doors closed and whisked her to the top of the building. When the doors opened again, she stepped into him dimly lit suite.

“Beckett?” She called. She heard shuffling coming from another room and a moment later he was in front of her, looking quite surprised to see her.

“Ori? What are you doing here? I thought…”

But she’d already put herself right in front of him, pressing her lips to his, kissing him passionately as he returned it with fervor before pushing her lightly away.

“What are you doing here?” He repeated.

“I thought I could come and go as I please.”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect you to come back. Especially after….”

“I’m sorry.” She blurted out. “I should have been upfront with you. I don’t know why I hesitated. And then you were so cold to me today, and when I got home I realized…I didn’t want to be there, I wanted to be with you.”

“I said I’m not playing games, Oriana. I’m not a toy.”

“I get that…”

“I should have taken you off my visitor list. I simply didn’t have the time to do it yet.”

“Please don’t…”

“Then what do you want? Why are you here?”

“I want you.” She whispered.

He rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and pouring himself a glass. “You want my dick, you don’t want me.”

She was right on his heels. “I like you.”

He gave her a Look and she blushed. “Okay, I like your dick too, but I really like you.”

He downed his glass and turned around so they were just a breath away from each other. “I wish I could believe that. But I can’t even count the number of times you’ve pushed me away. If you really want me to believe it, you’re going to have to prove it.”

“How?”

“It would help if you showed me. But besides that…you can’t push me away again. I mean it. One more time, Oriana, and this is done for good.”

“Why do you keep giving me chances?” She asked

He shrugged. “There’s just something about you. But Ori, if we do this…we’re doing this. No hiding.”

“No hiding.” She agreed.

“No running off in the middle of the night. I’m not a booty call.”

She ghosted her lips against his ear. “You’re kind of a booty call.”

He couldn’t help but smile as he placed his hands on the small of her back, digging his fingers into her lightly.

She looked back into his eyes, brushing her lips on his. “But you’re so much more than that, too.” She reached her hand down, unzipping his pants, palming him in her hand.

He moaned lightly. “Then what am I?”

“You’re sweet.” She kissed his cheek. “You’re kind.” She kissed his other cheek. “You took care of my drunk ass.” She kissed his lips. “You made me breakfast, and when I forgot it, you still brought it to work with you, even though you were seriously mad at me.” She kissed his neck and along his jaw.

“You make me feel good.” She murmured.

He grabbed her hand with his own. “How good?” He asked darkly.

The corners of her mouth turned up. “You make me cum like no one ever has. You make me feel worthwhile. You make me feel powerful.”

He backed her into the kitchen island. “You’re staying here tonight?”

She nodded in return and he surged forward, capturing her lips with his own, his hands roaming free over her body, tearing open her button down shirt, causing her to gasp as the force of it sent her buttons flying.

“I love when you wear skirts.” He growled. “And this flimsy underwear.” He lifted her skirt and ripped her panties clean off of her. He grasped her hips and lifted her onto the counter, then with one hand he caressed her lower region, as the other yanked down his pants. “I’m taking you bare.”

“You already did once.” She moaned.

“This time I have condoms. But I’m not using one. You’re mine.” He thrust inside her, causing her to cry out at the sudden large intrusion.

“Say it.” He pumped in and out. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours” She whimpered.

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours!”

He dipped his head, sucking and biting the top of her breast, and she knew he was leaving his mark on the outside of her, same as he was on the inside. It surprised her to realize she wanted him to, wanted him to claim her, wanted everything with him, wanted him to show the world she belonged to him and only him. In this moment, he was making her feel like a Queen.

“Beckett” She breathed, receiving a grunt in response. “Beckett, I can’t be yours unless you belong to me as well.”

He lifted his head back up, his blue eyes penetrating her green ones. “Always.”

Never losing eye contact, they fucked harder. She clawed his back, and he encouraged her to do so. There was a sheen of sweat on both their bodies. The harder they went, the more the pressure builds, and soon they were both screaming in ecstasy as he exploded inside of her, shooting her full of his hot fluid. They were panting as they slowed, coming to a stop, finally breaking the eye contact and kissing like their lives depended on it.

“Are you okay?” He rasped.

She nodded, still breathless. “We’re never using condoms again. It’s just too good without.”

He grinned. “Good thing you’re on birth control.”

“Good thing.” She chuckled.

“What else do you want to do tonight?” he asked.

A slow smirk crossed her face. “Nothing else. We’re going to do this as much as possible all night.”

He lifted her back up from the counter, carrying her to his bedroom. “I’m glad you came.” He whispered hoarsely.

“I can’t stay away. And I don’t want to. Not anymore.” She responded, biting her bottom lip as he laid her down.

“How do you want me?”

“Any position that allows you to cum inside me. I love it. Fill me up tonight, Beck.”

He climbed over her. “Your wish is my command.”

    @annekebbphotography @gardeningourmet @zigortega4life @eileendannie @thequeenofcronuts @drakewalkerfantasy @friedherringclodthing @coffeebeandragon @drakewalker04 @jlpplays1

@walkerismychoice @confessionsofabrokegirl @llamasgrl @lilyofchoices

@emerald-bijou @feartheendlesssummer @elainew13 @the-soot-sprite @paisleylovergirl @dottie-minerva-mikas @emichelle @kendrasgue @timmagicktoad @pbmychoices @flyawayboo @brightpinkpeppercorn @symonde @divergentofhogwarts @alesana45 @mfackenthal @desiree-0816

[its-negans-lucille]

Analytical Eyes (Repost)

Submit Mysterio Fanfic Requests HERE

Ships: Mysterio x Reader, Reader x  Quentin Beck Words: 1,363 Warnings: Mild Spider-Man: Far From Home spoilers Category: Angst (???) Synopsis: It’s your first day on the job working for the Mysterio Team and one Quinton Beck seeks you out.

The room was huge with a towering ceiling and multiple open levels. Men and women alike were scurrying around carrying expensive technical equipment which contrasted hugely with the somewhat shabby warehouse that the Mysterio Team (so they had dubbed themselves) had set up base. The room was buzzing with activity whether it be from the drones moving overhead or the constant low humming of excited voices.

You understood technology like a second language, always finding it easier to communicate through code rather than English. This was perhaps why you felt alienated by your previous colleagues and why you had finally been driven to quit after a rather unfortunate tech mishap (a man had been driven to a psychiatric facility after the realistic hallucinations).

It had been written about in the press: Troubled College Student Sends Employer to the Mad House. It had been the worst week of your life. This was, however, until you got a mysterious phone call from an unmarked number originating in London. They had offered you a job on the condition you had to join them at their base of operations immediately.

Which, as a broke college student, you were obliged to accept their gracious invitation.

“Hey-” A brief snap of fingers brought you from your reverie. “Anyone in there?” A dark haired woman by the name of Susan asked, her tone shorter than her stature. 

“Yeah, yeah,” You replied swiftly. “This is just different to what I’d imagined.” 

“That’s okay. Here-” Susan draped a badge around your neck branded with your name and a picture of you (you had no idea where they had got it as you hadn’t had a picture taken in the warehouse). “Your identification while you’re with us.”

“Oh, thank you.” You murmured as you looked at it. “Hey, what will I-”

“Shh,” Susan whispered, pressing a finger to her lips and giving a brief wink as suddenly the hubbub died down, like children in a classroom when the teacher walks in.

A tall man with a groomed beard entered the hall clad in a black and grey suit usually worn by those on a film set. His hair was pushed back and had an air of just been surreptitiously corrected to its meticulous place. His piercing sapphire eyes moved around the room, a smile growing on his face, giving the occasional person a nod as he moved easily down from a wooden platform. He seemed almost normal, you thought, as he continued his course. He seemed like someone who you could easily pass on the street and not give a second glance.

That was until his probing gaze fell on you.

It was only for a fraction of a second but in that time you saw how imperceptibly his eyebrows rose, creating a tiny crease on his forehead. Something shifted in those sea deep eyes as he swiftly dampened his lips, like a snake having found its prey. You could barely suppress a shiver from the attention and broke his gaze before his eyes moved onto their next target.

There was something behind those eyes you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Who’s that?” You asked, finding your voice slightly breathy.

“Quentin Beck. He’s the leader of this whole operation,” Susan replied, a sense of awe in her voice. Obviously it had not escaped the other female (and some male) members of the team of how ruggedly handsome his crooked smile was as Susan’s eyes were still trained on her employer. 

“Alright then!” She clapped her hands, finally satisfied as Beck moved to a conversation with the head technical engineer. “You’re going to be working under Andrew here-” She slapped a middle aged, rather portly, man on the back. “-To make the drones movements smoother so the illusion runs like clockwork, capiche?” 

“Capiche.” You replied, smiling.

***

5pm had come and gone and you were one of the only technicians left working. There was someone sat upstairs on the balcony overlooking the operations from the computer, continually replaying the animation from the elemental attack. The manner in which they played it almost seemed like a coach replaying a game for the team, showing them where they did well and where they need to do better. 

Initially when the illusion was played it had frightened you, the sudden booming of wind causing you to shock yourself with the drone you had been working on at the time. By now, on what seemed like the hundredth time the video had been repeated, it was no more than white noise in your peripheral. 

You noticed nothing other than the drone before you, it’s top open like one would open a frog for dissection. That was all electrical engineering really was: a complicated form of biology.

Your lightning focus on the task at hand was most likely why you didn’t take into account the sudden silence from the video that had been playing almost like clockwork for hours. Why you didn’t hear the slow, deliberate steps down from the balcony above you. You didn’t notice anything until the presence was almost pressed against your back, a violent heat radiating off them.

You swiftly spun around, startled by a cough just by the shell of your ear. You pressed your back up against your work table when you saw none other than Quentin Beck standing before you, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. 

“I haven’t seen you before,” His voice was light, airy. It totally contrasted the predatory nature in his pale azure eyes. 

“I- I started here today.” You replied, annoyed to find that your voice wavered ever so slightly. “I’m the new drone technician.” 

“Ah,” Beck let out a sigh that boarded on something unnervingly sensual. He was merely a foot away from you, so close that you had to tilt your face up so you could see him properly. “Why’re you here so late?” He asked, unlacing one hand from behind his back to slowly caress his beard. He watched you like he were trying to solve a puzzle.

“Well, I- uh,” you rubbed the back of your nervously neck, breaking your gaze from his. You almost felt that if you met his eyes you would lose a bit of yourself, drown in those analytical eyes. “I got annoyed at myself for not being able to fix this-” You gestured widely at the drone. “So I just kinda… stayed. I guess I really wanted to do something right on my first day, if that makes sense.” You felt yourself blabbering and all the while you felt his eyes continually trained on yours.

“No, that makes perfect sense.” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper as he inched infinitesimally closer to you. “Hey…” His eyes moved down to your identification badge. His long fingers plucked it from your chest, the brief contact made you shiver. “[Y/N]... that’s a pretty name.” He murmured.

“Thank you Mr Beck,” You replied, finding your voice just as low as his.

“Please,” He replied, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Call me Quentin.” 

“Are you sure that’s appropriate sir?” You asked, glancing around nervously.

“Why aren’t you looking me in the eye?” His tone made the question come out as more of a demand. An accusation. You slowly lifted your gaze though apparently that wasn’t quick enough as his large, soft hands (which you guessed had never seen manual labour in his life) took you by the chin, guiding your face upwards. He as strong beneath the suit, that much was for sure. “That’s better,” He smiled though it did not reach his gaze.

Beck finally released your chin from his iron grip when he seemed satisfied to have x-rayed your face, having it stored in his memory. He swiftly stepped back, allowing you breathing space for what felt like hours even though it must have been mere minutes.

“I’ll be looking forward to working closer with you, [Y/N].”

“Thank you, Be- Quentin .” you swiftly rectified your speech at the slight arch in his brow.

As he moved away you finally realised what was hiding behind those so sweet sky blue eyes: it was madness.

***

This is a repost!!! 

Thank you for reading have a great day!

My Mysterio requests are open and you can submit one HERE!

[thicctransboi]

A Grizzam Wedding!

Summary: Fluff, wedding, tears, fluff 

Warning: You will cry 

The Epiphany

Grizz stood there, after Luke and Helena's wedding, at the side of the church, lost in thought. In Luke's vows, he had said the same thing he had said in the jewelry store, "“She sees in me who I can be, not just the dude I think I am. When someone sees you like that, you want them looking at you forever.” Just like the first time he had heard him say those words when they had moved him enough to finally shoot his shot with Sam, they ran through his mind and wouldn't leave. Those words ran so true now, nearly three years after finally talking to Sam; Sam saw who he could be, who he really was on the inside. And he never wanted that to go away.

Naturally, no one had anticipated they'd be stuck in New Ham this long, but Grizz wasn't sure how much he minded it. He never would have found Sam and fallen for him like he had if this hadn't happened. He'd never have found himself a second father figure to a wonderful child like Eden. Things weren't the same as they had been back in high school, but was that really a bad thing?

Grizz had never pictured himself to be the settling down type. But, look at him now; working in the gardens, coparenting, living with another man who he loved. He had settled down. Part of this wasn't his choice, of course. But a large portion of it was. And he didn't mind it. In fact, he loved it. He loved getting his hands dirty and providing for people. He loved coming home every day to a home cooked meal and to his unusual family. He loved teaching Eden to read, and rocking her to sleep at night. He even loved how he was the only person who could calm her fears of the dark, or her temper tantrums. He loved his friendship with Becca, and how their system worked. How he could confide in her. But, above all, he loved Sam. He loved the way he would rub his shoulders after a long day of farming, the way he would hold him when they went to sleep. He loved that soulful look in his eyes whenever he looked at Eden or at Grizz. He loved his laugh. He even loved his attitude and mood swings, loved picking up his messes. He even enjoyed their arguments, because they were both smart, they could keep up with each other. Sam had this ability to ease all of Grizz's troubles, and bring him back down to earth.

He had worked hard to make himself better for Sam, because Sam made him want to be a better person. Sam saw what he could be, not just the stoner, jock, poetry nerd people saw him as. Or as the repressed boy he thought he was. Sam had helped him become the man he was today, and he had a lot to thank Sam for. He wanted some way to prove to Sam how much he appreciated and loved him. And he knew exactly how he would do it.

***

Sam sat on the sofa, a snoozing Eden resting her head on his lap. She had grown into such a beautiful little girl. Brown ringlet curls, and large blue eyes with a radiant smile. He wafted his fingers through her hair softly, careful not to wake her. He was lost in his own mind, a life spent in silence often meant getting lost in your own head. He had been forced to miss the wedding, not that it affected him too much. Eden had thrown up all over her dress, and had been ill all morning. So, he opted to stay home with her so Becca and Grizz could go to the wedding. Wedding..

Sam could remember being excited when gay marriage was legalized, but then realizing he'd probably never get married. He hated that he was religious, that he was raised in a church that condemned him. He had it shoved down his throat to never act on his 'impulses'. But, I suppose, in an alternate universe, God might not care here. For most people, the Three years spent in New Ham had taken a tole, depression medication had ran out a long time ago, and a lot of people were almost zombie like. Going to work, home, eat, sleep, repeat. Constantly bored. But, isn't that what normal adult life was like? There had been several failed exhibitions to try to surpass whatever boarders contained us. All had failed except for the two for farmland and livestock, and one for water. The library was full now more than ever that gas had run out, no more games of fugitive meant more people had to turn to books for entertainment. Which, Sam didn't mind, it kept him busy when he worked. And home was always busy, having a toddler running around. Two other couples had had kids, neither of which Sam knew well enough to bother knowing their names. One had a set of twins. God help them.

Sam didn't mind his new life. Campbell had been long gone, which was a blessing to all. And, order had been restored in their little society. Things at home were good as well, he was happy. Considering the circumstances, Eden was an extremely happy child. She loved being read to and learning new things, and playing in the garden. This was the only life she knew, and she was contempt with it. Becca and him were as thick as theaves, as they always had been. Becca worked as well, normally second shift in the kitchens. Sam worked mornings at the library. Grizz worked mornings/late evenings in the gardens depending on the need. Becca and Kelly had grown even closer, inseparable. Sam knew better than to ask, but he saw the way Kelly and Becca interacted, he knew love when he saw it. Sam knew he had finally found it himself.

Grizz was far from perfect. He was messy, a little moody at times, and extremely sensitive. He had a habit of tracking mud in the house, and was extremely stubborn. But, Sam wouldn't change any part of him. He loved every part. Grizz was amazing with Eden, it warmed Sam's heart to see him make funny faces at the small child, making her erupt in laughter. He loved watching him read to her, assumingly making funny voices for different characters the way his lips would change with certain words as well as his face contorting. It was hilarious to watch them in the garden together, yet endearing. Above all, he loved watching Grizz hold her, rocking her to sleep. The way he looked at Eden was mesmerizing. He loved seeing that look in his eyes. The only other person he gave that look to was Sam.  Both Grizz and Becca signed in the house, Eden could hear but they both took time to teach her to speak, while Sam taught her to sign.

For a jock, Grizz was extremely sensitive, soft, and caring. He loved to be held, and loved having his, now much overgrown, hair played with. Sam loved how Grizz would rub soothing circles on his chest at night. They often stayed up late talking together, either about their day or about what was going on in their minds. Grizz rubbing soothing patterns along Sam's chest, until they both lulled out of conversation and into sleep. They'd often spend hours in silence, when Eden was napping or Becca and Kelly took her out, and just read together in their room. Sometimes showing each other parts in their books they liked, highlighting certain lines and cutting them out, placing them on the wall. Snip bits of reminders of each other. Sam was happy with Grizz, he loved Grizz. He knew Grizz loved him too.

*** Preparation

"Do you think he would like this one?" Grizz asked Becca, pointing to a silver diamond incrusted band in the long jewelry case.

"It's too flashy. Sam likes things simple, but meaningful." Becca pointed out, "You know, Sam will be worried if we're both not back soon. Plus, I'm worried about Eden, she was so sick this morning."

"Sam texted us both, her fever is gone and she's napping. So, he probably is too. There's only a small selection, how about this one?" He held up a plain silver band.

Becca shook her head, "It's too thin, Sam's got huge hands. It wouldn't look right. You know, Sam knows you love him, you don't have put a ring on it to prove it."

Grizz smiled to himself when he spotted a ring that caught his eye, "I know that he knows, but I want to show him how much. How serious I am. He means the world to me, Becca. You all do, but I want him to know in a different way, the way that most people prove it, you know? Something normal, more concrete."

Becca smiled at his words, when Grizz had sprung the idea upon her, she had been overjoyed for the fathers of her daughter. Overjoyed for her two best friends. She saw the ring in between Grizz's fingers and her eyes grew wide, "That's the one."

***

The Proposal

Sam had finally finished his shift at the library, it was 5pm, and he was closing. It had been a week since the wedding, and both Becca and Grizz had been acting strange. Exchanging odd looks to each other, Grizz not letting Sam in the top drawer of the dresser for anything. They were up to something, he just didn't know what yet. Locking up the doors of the library and tossing his keys in his pocket, he began his decent towards home. It was warm out, the middle of summer, and his t-shirt was soon sticking to his clothes as he walked in the humid New England summer heat. He rounded the block to their house, anxious to get inside in the air conditioning.

Unlocking the front door and making his way inside, he noticed that he didn't see Eden's little feet running around, nor Becca chasing after her. He glanced around the living room, then the kitchen. No one. What the..? He pulled out his cell phone and texted Grizz.

To Grizz: Where is everyone?

Buzz, buzz.

From Grizz: They're at Kelly's. Come upstairs.

Sam couldn't recall Becca telling them that she and Eden were going out today, but he disregarded it for now, making his way upstairs to him and Grizz's bedroom. He opened the door and kicked off his shoes, only to turn around to see Grizz, sitting in the middle of the floor. A pathway of candles and dogwood blossoms were scattered from the doorway, to Grizz. He was wearing a red plaid flannel, a black sweater, and jeans. His eyes looked watery, and his hair was freshly combed.

"What's all this?" Sam signed, gesturing to the display in front of him.

Grizz rose to his feet and approached Sam, careful not to knock over any candles.

"And what are you wearing? Isn't that a little hot for June?"

Grizz smiled, brushing a stray hair away from Sam's forehead. "This is the outfit I wore when we had our first kiss, remember? The first day we gardened together, ecsetera."

Sam gave him a smile, "I remember, but why are you wearing it right now? Surrounded by flower petals and candles?"

Grizz raised a hand so silence his partner, ushering for him to join him in the center of the room. Grizz took Sam's hands for a moment, taking a deep breath. Sam noticed that his eyes were watering.

"I told myself that I wouldn't cry until after, but here I am already tearing up..." Grizz whipped a tear from the corner of his eye before continuing. "Okay. he took a deep breath before looking back at Sam and signing. " Sam, I.. I love you so much.. You are my entire world, and you've given me so much in three years, more than I could ever have hoped or dreamed of back in high school. I know this world can sometimes suck, like a lot. And, who knows what's going to happen tomorrow?  But, all I know is that I love you, and you make this world one worth fighting for. And I want to do that with you, by my side. Fearlessly, and forever.You have turned my world upside down. Both figuratively and literally." Grizz got down on one knee, taking out a small box from his jean pocket, "So, Sam Eliot, will you marry me? Whatever in the living hell that means in this universe?"

Grizz opened the box to reveil a thick gold band, with diamonds along each edge. Sam felt tears flowing down his cheeks and himself nodding before he could get the words out:

"You have to ask?"

***

The Wedding

Sam stood in the mirror in the women's bathroom of the church, fixing his necktie. He was nervous, it was written across his face in every feature.

Becca stood behind him in the mirror. "Let me help." She signed, making sam turn to her to allow her to fix his mistakes.

Becca was wearing a short purple gown that fell just above the knee, and had a sweetheart neckline. Her long brown curls were tied up in a tight bun, a few loose curls framed her face beautifully. She was beaming up at Sam, "You look so handsome, you know that? I'm so proud of you."

Sam rolled his eyes, "I know I know. I love you, did you know that?" He signed after she finally tied his tie correctly.

She smiled, "Of course, I love you too. Now, let me fix your hair a bit." She commanded, having him take a seat as she applied small bits of hairspray to help hold his ginger ringlets back.

"There, have a look!" She spun him around in the chair they had stolen from one of the offices so he could see his reflection in the mirror.

She was right, he did look good. Sam was wearing a pale pink button down, a vest, khaki dress pants, a tan dress coat, and a pink plaid neck tie. What he had worn to the prom, aside from his fathers dress coat of course.  Time had aged him a bit, his acne now gone and his face looking his age finally. His hair was neatly styled and gelled back, one loose curl fell on his forehead. But he liked it, he thought he actually looked good for once. "Perfect." he signed.

Grizz was getting ready by himself, adjusting his bowtie and vest in the men's restroom. He wore a plaid pink bowtie, a lime green button down, white dress coat, and white pants. The suit was his fathers, but the shirt and tie were his own, back when he went to prom. He thought he looked kinda ridiculous. His father's suit a bit too big. But, they had to make due around here.

Grizz kept rereading the vows he had written down over and over again. This wedding would be highly unusual, as to be expected. Becca and Kelly were the maid of honors, and Eden was the flower girl. Luke was his best man, the rest of the guard weren't as supportive when Grizz came out. But they had been invited nonetheless. They weren't doing the whole 'under god' thing or 'united by god' thing. They were simply doing vows, you may kiss the groom, have a good day. Which, was how they both felt it should be. Becca was also officiating the wedding, not like in this universe you need a certificate right?

"Grizz, five more minutes!" He heard Kelly call through the door.

He felt his heart skip a beat, but smiled nonetheless.

**

Becca walked Sam down the isle first, Eden ahead of them, holding Kelly's hand, and tossing flower petals in every direction, looking precious in her small little lavender gown that had used to be Becca's. Bean was playing music, Aretha Franklin, not that it mattered to Sam much if there was music or not. He felt all of the eyes of New Ham on him, like he used to in high school, but at least now they were kinder. When they reached the front of the church, Becca didn't loose her grasp on Sam's arm, knowing he needed it. He felt like he could fly away at any moment, and as she always had been, she was his rock. Keeping his feet on the ground. The church doors opened and in walked Grizz, Ally at his side, arm in arm. Sam felt tears well in his eyes at the sight of his partner, and soon to be husband, walking down the isle to marry him.

When Grizz's eyes landed on Sam, he felt his heart skip a beat and all focus went to Sam. The sight of his groom, it was alluring, and not to mention overwhelming. The eyes on him didn't bother, all he could see was Sam. Just like it always had been. It felt like all the air had been knocked out of him, yet he found himself walking still, like Sam's presence was magnetic and pulling him towards the alter.

Ally handed him off, letting Grizz's hands join Sam's as Becca stood behind them on the small stage.

"So, as you all know, we're gathered here in the church this morning to celebrate the marriage, oh wait,, the Union of Sam Elliot and Gareth Visser. Aka Grizz, or Grizzam for those of us who have been pinning for their relationship for the past three years." Becca spoke, signing along, causing the young adults around them to laugh at her words, "They have written their own vows, so, Sam, since you'll always be my favorite, you can go first."

Sam chuckled and began signing, Becca interpreting for him; "You know, growing up, I had always been told that I couldn't act on being gay, and if I didn't, then god would still love me. I remember, three years ago, shortly after this whole alternate universe thing happened, telling Becca that I would die the perfect christian virgin. Especially since what happened with the whole planet thing. And I remember telling her how relieved I was. Because I felt that there was no one I'd want who would want me back. I remember thinking how crazy that would be in high school, let alone in a new alternate universe. I asked her, 'How do they find each other?' Well, apparently, it takes us being sent to another planet for me to find that person, but god I'm so happy I did. Grizz, you were the first person who ever noticed me. Who ever saw beyond those titles of 'deaf' or 'gay'. You tried to learn my language just to speak with me, and ended up learning British sign language. Which, yes, they're different. No one has ever done that for me, especially not someone who is amazing as you. Who just so happened to be into me. I finally found someone who loves me back, as I love them. And you've proven time and time again that you do. I know I come with strings attached, but what I feel for you is real. We're real. We're the only thing that makes sense to me in this fucked up world, and I never want us to end. I love you, Gareth Visser."

Tears were flowing down Grizz's face, and Sam's. And Becca's. And Kelly's. Even Clark and Jason who sat in the front row were crying. Many people were. Grizz mouthed a quiet 'I love you' before saying his own vows.

Grizz took out the piece of paper in his pocket and glanced at it, before folding it up and putting it away. He began to sign and speak, "I had this whole thing written down, but now I feel the need to say something different. Completely from my heart. I keep saying to myself I won't get emotional, but Sam brings out that side in me, that none of you had seen. When Luke here was looking for engagement rings, he said something that spoke to me. He said, “She sees in me who I can be, not just the dude I think I am. When someone sees you like that, you want them looking at you forever.”... He was talking about Helena not Sam obviously, but when he said those words, all I could think of was Sam. I hadn't had enough courage to really get to know him yet. But, those words moved me so powerfully, that I tried learning sign language to talk to Sam. As you all now know, I failed.  In high school, I was so caught up In being straight, that I was too scared to talk to him. I was scared of what people might think, or how that might change my life. Then, the world ended. Literally.. And I'm so happy it did. Because, if it hadn't? I never would have heard those words, I never would have talked to him. Sam, you've flipped my world upside down, in the best way possible. You've made me want to be a better person, not just for myself, but for you. You welcomed me into your family, and now I have more than I could have ever dreamed of. I love you, Sam. I love you, Becca, and Eden. But, Sam, I love you so much, that I never want what we have to end. I don't really know what marriage means in this world, or outside of it, all I know is that this is what I want. Only with you. I was never the settling down type, but you changed that. I guess I was just.. Looking for the right person. And, I found him. It's you, Sam. No one else. And I truly believe, that in the outside world, we would have ended up together at some point. Like our souls were meant to find each other, and have been over and over again, life after life. And in this life, I found you, and I'm not letting you go. I love you, Sam Elliot."

Grizz hadn't dropped his eyes from Sam's once, and the pair were both tearing up drastically.

Becca wiped a tear from her cheek, "Oh shit, that, that got to me. Okay, okay. Breathe.... Okay, I now pronounce you husband and husband, if anyone objects, you can leave. You may now kiss each other."

Sam took a step closer to Grizz, reaching up to cup his face in his delicate hands, standing on his tip toes, and kissing him. Grizz gripped his face, feeling the wind getting knocked out of him as he usually felt when they kissed. But this one felt different. It was more than a kiss, it was a promise.

Sam and Grizz walked out of the church, Becca on Sam's arm, and Eden on Grizz's shoulders, smiles beaming on all of their faces.

[camillemontespan]

lost stars [AU. Drake, Camille, Leo and Olivia] [part four: charcoal]

Part Three if you want to catch up.

Found some time to write this as I’ve been waking up really early this past week. Hope you enjoy.

@jovialyouthmusic @pug-bitch @sirbeepsalot @moonlightgem7 @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @iplaydrake  @emceesynonymroll @dcbbw @carabeth @katedrakeohd @be-still-my-aching-heart @drakewalkerisreal @pedudley @tacohead13

                  *********************************************************

It was Camille's birthday. 27. She yawned, padding through to the living room. She tightened her silk grey dressing gown around her frame and prepared herself for Leo's usual birthday routine he did for her. This always involved him waiting for her, naked, with a rose between his teeth. Last year, she had found him reclining on the rug on the living room floor.  It always made her laugh.

He wasn't in the living room. Camille frowned and searched the rest of the apartment. Nothing. They had gone to bed together last night.

Camille spotted a post it stuck to the fridge. She read it over, her heart sinking.

Gone for a run! See you later! L x

It wasn't that Camille loved birthdays. She didn't care for them to be honest. But she would have appreciated Leo's naked rose routine because it meant that maybe he was still a good boyfriend to her. Maybe she had been unnecessarily harsh with him. Maybe underneath it all, they were still a good match.

But no. He had forgotten.

                               **********************************************

Leo was running through Central Park. He used to hate running but Camille had taught him to love it. Today was going to be a good day. Workout, coffee run, back home for some sexy times with Camille then watch the football on TV. Awesome.

As he ran, he saw a redhead running ahead of him. When she looked to the side, Leo saw she was Olivia.

'Liv!' he called. She didn't hear him.

Leo picked up the pace and began to run after her. 'Nevrakis! Liv! Olivia! Redhead!'

He reached her and grabbed her arm.

'OWWWW!'

Olivia had kicked him in the dick.

                          **********************************************

'I am so sorry..'

Leo waved away Olivia's apology as they sat on the kerb outside a grocery store. Leo had a pack of frozen peas covering his crotch.

'Hey, I grabbed you. Stupid idea, I should have known better. Never grab a girl without consent. Also never grab you because you are lethal!'

Olivia winced. 'Let me buy you a coffee as an apology,' she suggested.

Leo smiled. 'Well I was going to get a coffee after my run anyway so sure, that works.'

Olivia helped him up and they wandered along to the coffee shop, Leo limping as he went.

                                   **********************************************

Camille's phone flashed up with a text and her heart skipped when she saw it was Drake.

Stop it.

Camille read the text. Facebook tells me it's your birthday so happy birthday. Anything nice planned?

Camille bit her lip. Lie and say Leo has planned to take her out for a fancy meal? Or be honest and say her day was suddenly empty?

She was honest. Nothing really. Leo's forgotten.

His text back was instant. Seriously? He's forgotten? Fucking hell.

She replied. It's honestly okay.

His text came through 30 seconds later. No it's not. Come meet me. I'll take you for a drink.

Camille chuckled. Its 10am, too early for a drink!

Drake's text: Hell, it's 5pm somewhere right?

                                        **********************************************

Drake and Camille met at a bar an hour later. They were the only ones there.

Drake ordered a beer and a glass of wine. As he waited for the bartender to get the drinks, Drake looked over at Camille who was sat at a table in the corner. She looked sad. Drake resolved to try cheer her up.

'So Tobey, 27 years old!' he said as he sat down opposite her. Camille rolled her eyes. 'My name is not Tobey!'

Drake gave her a wink. 'It is. We've already agreed that you're the shit spiderman.'

Camille sipped her wine. 'How very dare you,' she replied dryly.

Drake laughed and swigged his beer. Camille smiled. 'How old are you then?'

'28,' Drake replied.

'Eww you're an old man..' Camille whispered. Drake pretended to be offended.

'I'm only a year older than you!'

Camille stuck her tongue out. 'Exactly, old man!'

Drake pointed at her and said, 'Enough back talk missy.'

Camille grabbed his finger and leaned forward, her eyes boring into his. 'That's exactly what old men say,' she whispered, a mischievous smirk on her face.

Drake looked down at his finger which she had grabbed. He swallowed. Camille, sensing the awkwardness, took her hand away and drank some more wine.

Her phone buzzed. 'Oh it's Leo,' she announced, addressing the elephant in the room. She frowned. 'He's with Olivia. Suggests we meet them.'

Drake shrugged. 'Do you want to?'

'Not really,' Camille admitted. 'I'm still a little pissed at him.'

Drake nodded. 'Sure. We can hang out just us then.'

'You don't want to see Olivia?'

There was a silence. Drake hadn't even thought of seeing his girlfriend. Camille didn't push it because she knew the answer. Instead, she gestured to the pool table. 'Want to play?'

                                **********************************************

Leo and Olivia studied the coffee menu. 'What do you want?' Leo asked.

Olivia shook her head. 'I'm buying these.'

'No, it's cool. What do you want?'

'Leo, let me buy you a coffee. I kicked you in the balls for God's sake.'

Leo chuckled, realising he couldn't convince her. 'Fine. A latte please.'

Olivia ordered and she sat down on the sofa by the window. Leo waited for the drinks.

He brought them over and as he stood over the table to pass her her americano, she could smell his cologne. He smelled smokey, like charcoal.

Their eyes met as she took her coffee. Leo smiled and settled down beside her. 'So, what have you been up to?' he asked, focusing on her.

Olivia shrugged. 'Nothing really. Work.'

'How is work?'

Olivia rolled her eyes. 'Well, my boss is a bitch.'

Leo chuckled. 'Want me to hunt her down?'

'As if you could take her!' Olivia scoffed. Leo's mouth dropped open. 'Hey, I can be tough!'

Olivia sniggered. 'Says the guy who keeled over after I kicked him in the balls.'

'Hey, that shit fucking hurts!' Leo protested.

Olivia waved her hand dismissively. 'Oh please. You're so weak.'

'Right, so you think you would be fine being kicked in the balls, if you had any?'

Olivia stared at him steadily. 'Hey, I got balls. A whole set. Test me.'

'You're a badass aren't you?' Leo asked, his mouth quirking up at the corner.

Olivia shrugged. 'If you can breathe, you can stand, if you can stand, you can fight.'

'Where'd you hear that from?'

Olivia shrugged. 'I heard it somewhere and it's kinda become my mantra.'

Leo sat back, a slow grin forming on his face. 'I like it.'

Olivia smiled and sipped her coffee, Leo's gaze still on her.

                               *********************************************

Drake watched as Camille leaned over the pool table with the cue, angling it into the right position. Drake was trying his best not to check her out because she was not a piece of meat, but Jesus Christ, that woman had a good ass.

He shook his head. Olivia also has a good ass. Think about her ass instead.

'Am I angled okay?' she asked. Drake snorted. 'Not telling. You're my competition, remember?'

Camille rolled her eyes and leaned closer, adjusting her grip. Drake smiled. 'You are holding it badly though.'

Camille tried to fix it. Drake shook his head and said, 'Not like that. Wait.' He moved towards Camille and stood close behind her.

He reached to take her hand and adjusted her grip on the cue. Her hands were cool. Drake's chin was close to her shoulder and Camille became acutely aware of the heat developing in her core as his body touched hers. If she turned her head, she could easily press her lips against his. Camille felt her cheeks burn at the thought and she pushed it down and cleared her throat.

Drake blushed and stood up quickly. He watched as Camille made her play.

'And that's how it's done!' Camille said after she putted the black ball into the pocket.

Drake sighed. 'I helped you.'

Camille giggled. 'Only a little.'

'I'm hurt,' Drake replied.

'Loser buys a drink!' Camille announced. Drake chuckled. 'Fine, whatever you want, Montespan.'

Camille handed him the pool cue. Their fingers brushed gently as he went to take it from her. 'I've actually had a good birthday,' Camille said quietly. 'Thank you.'

Drake smiled. 'No problem. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself.'

There was a loaded silence. Drake's eyes roamed her face, focusing in on her mouth. 'Do you ever think maybe we're with the wrong people?' he whispered, the words escaping his mouth before he could stop them.

Camille frowned. 'What do you mean?'

Drake bit his lip. There was no going back. 'I mean you're with Leo and I'm with Olivia.. Does it ever feel.. wrong? Like maybe we're better suited? And Leo and Liv would be better together?'

Camille stared at him, her face turning pale. Drake instantly regretted asking her. What had he expected to happen? Did he really think she would have thrown her arms around him? Agreed with him profusely?

'I can't believe you've just asked me that..' she whispered, her brown eyes huge. 'Drake, I know I'm having problems with Leo but that's no excuse for you to ask me such a thing. You're with Olivia, she loves you. What we have.. I can't let you ruin your relationship because of me. I won't be that woman.'

Drake blinked. Okay, he really hadn't been expecting that reaction. Maybe he had just imagined their chemistry? Maybe he had placed more importance on their kiss than she did.

'Camille, I'm sorry,' he told her. 'I spoke out of turn-'

'Damn right you did,' she interrupted him. She looked so angry now. 'How twisted is it that you think we could just swap partners?! What the fuck Drake?'

'Camille, please, listen to me. I didn't mean it, I wasn't thinking straight-'

He tried to take her hand but she pushed him away. 'Please don't touch me.'

She began to storm away from him. Drake followed her out into the street and watched as she hailed a cab. It stopped for her and she climbed inside - Drake followed.

'Spring Street please - Drake, get out of my cab!' she shouted.

'No! Not until we settle this! I just want to apologise!'

'Apologise for suggesting we should break up with our partners and be together instead, and they do the same?!'

'Yes! It came out completely wrong!' Drake cried. The cab driver continued to drive, keeping his eyes on the road, ignoring their argument.

'Drake, what we have is really good, I like hanging out with you but I told you we had to be careful and now look! The opposite of careful! I don't want you to hurt Olivia!'

Drake stared at her. 'Camille, just forget I said anything, please.'

'How can I?!' she burst out.

The cab stopped at her door and she handed her money to the driver. Drake jumped out the vehicle and ran after her as she strode up the steps to her front door.

'Then tell me you don't have feelings for me,' Drake said. Camille whipped around. Drake looked at her, his shoulders slumped. He looked like an abandoned puppy.

'Why are you even asking me to do that?'

Drake sighed. 'Because if you don't have even some tiny feeling, we can just forget any of this happened and be normal. But I'm not an idiot Camille, I know a good thing when I see it. We are the same. I'd at least like to know where you stand and if you really don't feel the same, I can stop thinking about you.'

Camille gulped. 'You think about me?'

Drake closed his eyes, not wanting to see her face. 'Yes.'

He opened his eyes to see she was standing closer to him now. He decided to just keep talking, fill in the silence. 'I think about you when I'm in bed with my girlfriend,' he whispered, his face turning red. 'I think about you when I see Tobey fricking Maguire's face. I think about you in your towel, smelling of coconut and charcoal and Camille. I think about how funny you are, how cute you are. I think about how you’re so relaxed and it’s honestly refreshing, you know? I find myself thinking about you accidently. I know I shouldn't. I have no right to think about you because you're not mine but I do. I know you'll think I'm scum because I'm with Olivia but the truth is, since I met you, I think about you and no matter how much I try to push thoughts about you away, it doesn't work. I know I'm an asshole. I'm fully aware of that.'

Camille clenched her fists. 'You are an asshole. Such an asshole. You have a girlfriend and she loves you.'

Drake looked down, ashamed.

'But I think about you too,' Camille murmured. Drake's head shot up. 'You do?'

Camille reddened. 'Yes. When Leo.. When I'm with Leo. In bed. I think about you. I enjoy it.' Her voice was bitter. 'I really fucking enjoy it.'

Drake felt his body react before thoughts formed in his mind. Without thinking, he pulled Camille into him and their mouths crashed together. Camille let out a surprised gasp as they embraced. For a moment, Drake thought she was going to push him away but to his surprise, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. He could taste her watermelon lip balm. It was delicious. He wanted to taste all of her.

Camille sank into him, focusing on the feel of his strong arms around her. Her hands ran up his arms and she could feel the muscle underneath. He was solid and broad, completely different to Leo's lean but toned frame. If she thought for a second that this was wrong, she pushed it away. Camille hadn't realised how much she had wanted him. But she did, she really did.

His hands tangled in her hair. Like their first kiss, this was desperate. This was fire. This was unashamedly passionate, their bodies merging together, holding each other tight.

Drake pushed her up against the door, not caring that they were making out in broad daylight. He didn't think about Leo or Olivia. All he was thinking about was Camille. He was thinking about how good a kisser she was. He was thinking about how delicate she felt in his arms. He was thinking about how amazing she smelled. He was thinking he could just drown in her forever.

Camille pulled away and stared at him, her chest rising and falling. A lock of her hair was loose against her eye. Drake reached out to push it behind her ear and Camille blushed at the intimacy of the gesture. She then took out her keys, hands shaking, and opened the door.

Drake followed her in.

[verai-marcel]

More Than Words (Chapter 1 of 2, RDR2 Fanfic, Prisoner AU, 18+ ONLY)

Summary: After a terrible nightmare, you find yourself texting Charles, who comes over immediately despite the late hour. The comfort and safety you find in his arms is nice, but you want something more. How much do you need to beg for him to give you what you really want?

Author’s Notes: WARM FUZZIES, I WANTS THEM. That is all. Also a soul-consuming fuck from Charles. Yes. PLEASE. I used to think of Charles as a good friend, a brother-type character. Then I played the epilogue in RDR2, and I fell in love.

Tags: Charles x Reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, smut, gentle domination, D/s, Master/pet, aftercare, TW: past noncon

Find it on AO3 here.

Chapter 1: Build Me Up

You couldn’t breathe. You knew this feeling. You hated it. This invasion of your body, this brainwashing of your mind, being told that the only one who’d ever love you was him.

You awoke with a cold sweat, sitting straight up in your bed, swallowing the cry that was welling up from deep in your heart. After a moment, you took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It had been a while since you had dreamed of your ex. For five years, he had convinced you that he was the only one for you, that no one else would have you, that you were lucky to have him.

When you finally wised up to his asshattery, he tried to force you back into submission on one terrible night that you told no one about. To be fair, you had heard worse stories; your experience wasn’t that bad. After all, when you had finally begged him to stop, he did. But you knew that if you told your best friend, she’d find him and put him in the hospital; she was usually level headed, but when it came to her loved ones, she didn’t hesitate to protect them, whatever it took.

So you didn’t tell her. You just didn’t want to think about it. You let it go and put all that shit behind you. There were better things to do, other things to worry about, greater things to pursue.

But that didn’t mean that your subconscious had let it go like the rest of you had, and on occasion, you dreamed of the past. It had only happened a few times in the last two years since you left him, and it had been almost five months since your last dream.

Usually you just got up, paced around your apartment for a bit, read something light and funny, drank some water, and went back to sleep. Or if you were feeling particularly down, you’d drink some of the plum wine you had stashed away until you passed out.

But tonight you pulled out your phone and stared at it for a minute.

And then you hit the Messages app.

I had a bad dream

You hit send.

A heartbeat later, you immediately wished you hadn’t hit send. Who the hell were you, texting Charles in the middle of the night? You had gone on zero dates with this guy. The last time you saw him, he was leaving your apartment after you had made a fool of yourself, after he had given you a mind blowing orgasm and taking nothing for himself. He had kissed your forehead, told you to keep hydrated, and left you his phone number, in case you ever needed anything. Anything at all, even just someone to listen to you, he had said.

Your phone buzzed.

I’ll be over right away.

You stared at the message, unbelieving. You quickly texted back.

you don’t have to

it’s fine

sorry for waking you

After a moment, he messaged back.

I want to.

***

You heard a soft knocking and you rushed to the door. The moment you opened it, he charged in, sweeping you up in his arms. The shock of his sudden hug hit your heart hard, and you lost the ability to stand as you dropped to your knees, emotions that you thought you had long since buried bubbling up within you. Clinging to him, you cried, burying your face into his shoulder and letting out everything that you had bottled up for years.

***

Sitting in Charles’ lap on your bed, you sniffled and drank the hot chamomile tea that he had made for you as he held you, rubbing your back. You looked up at him, and his kind eyes almost made you cry again. You hadn’t told him anything yet; he just knew that you needed comfort, and gave it to you without asking why.

“I… I had an ex,” you started.

And you told him everything, words tumbling from you like an avalanche, unable to stop until it was all out of your system. Even the things you hadn’t told your best friend.

Charles was angry on your behalf, but he was very good at controlling himself, although you could see the simmering in his eyes as you spoke. By the end of your explanation, he had calmed, the only emotion on his face was a tenderness, warm and inviting like a campfire. You had only looked up every once in a while to gauge his reaction, to see him silently listening to you, no judgement, only empathy. Now that you were done speaking, you looked at him, only to find him watching you carefully.

He cupped your face, his thumb massaging your cheek. “Thank you for sharing. It must have been tough.”

You nodded.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Sort of. I mean, I am. But it’s weird, I hardly know you, and yet I’ve told you more than I’ve told anyone.”

Charles laughed softly. “I’ve been told that I’m a good listener. I’ll keep your secrets safe, I promise.”

Leaning into his embrace once more, you slowly fell asleep to the slow rocking of him holding you in his arms, and the steady beat of his heart.

***

You woke up to a familiar warmth, and found Charles, under the covers with you this time, spooning you. You turned in his arms, and he tightened his hold on you, mumbling in his sleep.

“Chaaaaarles,” you cooed.

“G’morning, kitten,” he mumbled.

“Why do you call me that?”

“Because you made noises like a kitten when I was pleasuring you,” he answered, shifting back to sleep.

Your cheeks grew hot, thinking of that night. And then you felt a bit horny when you felt his morning wood against your thigh. Nudging him with your leg, you inched closer to him. He instantly woke up and scooted back. You stopped, feeling a little hurt by his rejection. It must have shown on your face, for he reached out to you and caressed your cheek with his knuckles.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said softly. “You know I want you too. I just think we need to get to know each other a little better first.”

You blinked. God, you were pouncing on him as if he were just a hook-up. He deserved better from you, didn’t he? A little more space and time to get used to you? Your friend had joked that you went through men like she went through chocolate. But she had a point; these past two years, you had flirted and dated and fucked, but never seriously.

Charles made you want to be serious again.

“Okay, okay,” you said, holding up your hands in surrender. “Let’s go on a date.”

“Sure. When?”

“After I get up and get ready?”

Charles just gaped at you for a moment, but then he shook his head and laughed. “Alright wildcat, I’ll go with you.”

***

The two of you ended up at your favorite cafe. After scrolling through Yelp and frustrated by how few places were open early on Sunday morning, you just said ‘fuck this shit’ and went with a classic. Charles smoothly bought your flat white and almond croissant while you were fishing for your card, and guided you to a table with his hand on the small of your back. He even got up to get your drink for you when they called your name.

Plus a hundred points. He was suave, much more than you expected.

And somehow, an hour passed like a minute, just chatting about your life, his life before coming to this town, general interests, and animals.

Then your alarm went off on your phone.

“Shit. I have to go to the animal hospital,” you said as you picked up your purse. Charles stood with you.

“Need any help?”

You looked at him for a moment, wondering if you were allowed to take him with you. You decided against it; if he wasn’t an official vet tech, he wasn’t allowed to help because of all the liability issues. But his heart was in the right place.

“I can handle it,” you said. “I’ll see you later?”

Charles nodded and waved as you left.

***

hi

i’m off work now

wanna get some food?

You couldn’t stop yourself from messaging him again as you got out of the animal hospital. It had been an emergency surgery for a poor cat who had been hit by a car. She lost a leg, but the rest of her was in relatively good condition, and would survive. But it had been a long five hours, and you were exhausted. Lately you had been called in for these kinds of surgeries because you were good at keeping steady and making quick, calculated decisions. But once you were out of those situations, you let loose and were boisterous. Perhaps that’s how you balanced out; you didn’t know how your friend stayed so calm all the time, except for when you were teasing her.

Your phone buzzed.

I’ll come over and cook you something after I pick up some groceries. You must be tired. Take a nap. I'll see you at 5pm.

You smiled. He was too kind.

sure

thank u

Putting your phone away and getting into your car, you drove home with a big goofy grin on your face.

***

You had taken a nap when you got home, so exhausted that you just collapsed on your bed and passed out. When you got up, you had been opening windows to let in the cool evening air when your doorbell rang. Taking a deep breath, you went to let in Charles, who was carrying some grocery bags.

“That’s a lot,” you commented. “Cooking for an army?”

“I noticed you didn’t have much in your fridge,” he said. “Other than a couple of takeout containers.”

You sighed. It had been a rough few weeks at the hospital, that was true. One of your coworkers had warned you of compassion fatigue, and you had waved it off, but now you felt it. You had no energy for yourself, always taking care of others. Your friend had been the only one who had regularly checked in with you and made sure you took time for yourself here and there, but she couldn’t watch you all the time. Besides, you didn’t think you needed anyone to coddle you.

And now Charles, within just a week, had noticed how poorly you ate when you were alone.

He cooked a wonderfully healthy meal for you; baked chicken with spices, herbed potatoes, and a chickpea and spring green salad with a poppyseed dressing and candied walnuts. Your mouth watered as the smells filled your kitchen. He listened to you chatter away about your day at work when you should’ve had the day off, and he told you about his work at the construction site. You learned that he worked with Arthur, and that he had forgone his volunteer work at the animal shelter today to take care of you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, feeling bad for making him change his schedule.

He immediately went to you and hugged you tight. “Don’t ever feel bad for needing me. Ever.”

Your heart raced to hear him say something you didn’t know you needed to hear.

As he finished cooking dinner, you finally got up and helped him get plates and silverware, feeling bad that he was doing most of the work. The two of you ate on the floor, your plates on the coffee table. Your place was small, just a studio apartment with a bed, a small coffee table in front of a TV, a kitchen, and strangely enough, a decent sized bathroom. Sure, you could probably afford more now that you were a full veterinarian, but you wanted to save money and pay down your student debt. Besides, you didn’t spend much time at home anyway. For all the hours you were called in, you easily worked 60 hour weeks on average lately.

The two of you finished your meal and cleaned up everything together. It was magical, almost like he was your boyfriend already. Not only that, now you had a fridge filled with Tupperware containers of meals for a few days, so you didn't have to eat out for a while.

This was definitely not how you’d imagine things going. By now, with any other man you would have slept with him and sent him on his way.

Charles was different. Your best friend was right, these country boys were something else.

Now that dinner was done and everything was clean and put away, you weren’t sure what to do. You turned to him to ask what he wanted to do, but he was prowling towards you, his hands gripping the kitchen counter behind you as you realized you were trapped between his big arms. He crooned your name, so sweet sounding on his lips, and you were instantly turned on, feeling desire gliding through your body. He leaned over you, forcing you to crane your neck up to him. You parted your lips.

You knew what you wanted to do now.

“Please,” you begged. “Take me.”

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

Chapter 2 Here.

[ninihanscom-blog]

Anything, Anything

CHAPTER TWO, PART ONE

The morning sun streaked our bedroom with bright yellow and white light, little specs of dust dancing in the beams.

“I’m off to work,” Johnny whispered, already showered and dressed in his uniform, ready for the day. “Have a good day, Rox.” With that, pecked me on the forehead and walked out of the room.

From the bed, I could hear him pour his coffee into his thermos and walk out the door, closing it quietly behind him. I listened as he turned the lock in the door, ensuring my safe sleep, even though nobody had ever so much as crossed onto our property line without authority to do so.

Once I heard Johnny start his car and was sure he was gone, I reached for my phone on the bedside table, sitting up. I opened the tab for the news in our county, but found nothing. I wondered if anyone had even found the man yet, the bat covered in dried blood next to his head. I thought about searching for it in my phone, but decided against it. I didn’t want any kind of search history that could link me back to him.

Back in Chicago, I had been a high school English teacher, but when we moved to Mountain Grove, I stopped working. The original plan was for Johnny and me to get pregnant and then I would stay home to take care of the kids, but when I didn’t get pregnant right away, we decided that we would wait a bit. This way, I could get acquainted with the town, Johnny could focus on work, and we could try again later. That was more than five years ago.

In those years, I had decided to follow through with my other passion, writing. I had written seven novels, four of which were published by a small imprint here on the west coast. The second of the four hit it big and became a bestseller, and as the first in a series, the other two followed suit. Steep Point was the first in a series of murder mysteries about a small-town sheriff, the fourth of which I was supposed to be working on. Johnny was my inspiration for the main character, the handsome and smart protagonist, always one step ahead of the killer.

My phone buzzed in my hand, still on silent from the night before. A text message from Johnny appeared on the screen.

Don’t forget our appointment tonight. 5pm. Xo.

Of course I had forgotten our appointment. We were scheduled to see Dr. Friedman, a fertility doctor a few towns over. I didn’t feel old enough to need a fertility doctor, but as Johnny had pointed out, we had been trying to have a baby since I was twenty-three and, “getting checked out couldn’t hurt.” To be honest, we probably should have done it sooner.

Of course! See you then, babe.

I checked the clock on my phone. It was only just past nine now, which gave me plenty of time to drive to the ocean for the day before needing to meet Johnny at five. I clambered out of bed, tripping over myself as I made my way toward the bathroom. I climbed into the standing glass shower and let the water pour over me, soaking my waist-length hair. I didn’t bother to blow-dry my hair before leaving the house, instead tousling it in front of the double vanity and then letting the mountain air create perfect beach waves.

[blondecarfucker]

Bed of Roses (Chapter 17)

Roger Taylor x Reader

BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Fic Summary: It's 1971. You just moved to London to study, and you find a band on a local pub after a bad date. The encounter doesn’t go the way you expect it, and neither does what follows this evening as you try to deal with loving Roger Taylor.

Fic Note: So I’ve had this story in my head for the last three weeks and finally decided to write it down. It’s completely planned. It will have 21 chapters and it’s divided in three acts: Dusk, Night and Dawn. It’s will be a bit angsty in the future, and it will most likely have some smut as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages. PLEASE REMEMBER THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER OF THE STORY. If this is your first time stumbling upon Bed of Roses, thank you for stopping by! The rest of the story is in my masterlist, the link is in my bio - can't put the link here or else the post will disappear from the tags.

Chapter's notes: I always write too much when it's Roger's POV. This was long!! But I'm quite happy with it. I'd love to know what did you guys think of this chapter - there's everything here, really; fluff + smut + angst. Also I'm tired and probably didn't edit this right, so forgive me for any errors that I didn't notice

Words: around 3900

Warnings: smut inspired in How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days cause like, why not. Fluff too, and overall a feeling of sadness and nostalgia

ACT 3 - DAWN

"It's the moment night time seems weaker and everything seems easier to figure out"

Chapter 17

London, 1977

Roger was moving out.

He spent the last months considering moving out of his flat - he had the money, but he liked the flat. He liked the way the white kitchen would turn yellow in the end of a summer afternoon, when the sunlight hit it just right.

He liked the way the house always smelled like lavender - he couldn't really remember if there was ever a time it didn't smell like it.

He liked the unmatching furniture and the old carpets, and he liked the cat that roamed around the neighbourhood - he always left clean water and tuna outside when he was home.

But it was a simple house, one that didn't really fit his name now - he was a famous drummer with an expressive amount of money on his bank account, and it was weird for the women he brought home to find out that he lived in a pretty ordinary flat.

Also, since they filmed a few videos for News Of The World in his backyard, he knew it would get easier for fans to find out where he lived, so it was better if he just moved out.

So he started looking for a nice, fancy, modern apartment, with window glasses from floor to ceiling and a bunch of space between the all-white furniture. It would fit better with him now.

Now he was finally moving out - putting everything in boxes, organizing what he would keep.

It was easy at first - his clothes, instruments, and movies would all go to his new house.

But a few other things were harder - which books should he take? He hasn't read Dracula, ever - he just thought the cover art was cool. Should it go to his new place? And he didn't remember buying a copy of Wuthering Heights, but there it was. Should it go, too? He should probably try reading it.

And he started to move all of the records inside the box - Beatles, Sex Pistols, The Jimi Hendrix Experience, they were all coming. But he didn't remember getting a Simon & Garfunkel album.

It was only when he found a Fleetwood Mac record that he realized he never threw your stuff out.

Roger never really thought about it - you didn't break up in a fight, you were still in good terms, even though you never talk to each other, so it's easier for the both of you to let go of the other.

He kind of always expected you to come back and pick your stuff up - you had your life in London. You couldn't just turn your back to it and never return -  but you did it anyway. But he still thought that maybe you were just busy, or you couldn't get in touch with him, and you were still planning on taking it back - it wouldn't be nice if he just threw it away.

And he felt attached to it, too.

This - the albums and the book - was the easier stuff, things that didn't scream they belonged to you.

That was separate from the rest. He sighed, and dropped the album on the box - he was taking Fleetwood Mac to his new place.

He walked upstairs, to the bedroom he once shared with you, and on a straw chest close to the window, under layers of duvets and bed linens, was a small box. He opened it.

The box was filled with things that unequivocally belonged to you - there was a copy of On The Road that was filled with your handwriting, your comments and thoughts all over the pages, and a rose quartz broken in half, too painful to look at.

And among some lost pieces of your jewelry he found around the house in the months after you moved, there was the heart.

He got it fixed - the jeweler looked at him, confused. "It will never look the same, sir", he told Roger, who nodded. "I know. Can you glue the pieces together, though?", he asked, and the jeweler agreed, but the look on his face made Roger sure that the jeweler thought he was crazy.

It was one of the many stupid things he did after you left, in 1975. He tried to avoid spending time at the house, at first - in his mind, you were still all over the couch, reading, a cigarette hanging from your lips, waiting for him to get home. But once he got there, the house was cold and empty, almost as if it was haunted by the lack of your presence.

So he spent his nights in bars, going out with women that had pieces of you - this one had your round, pink lips, and this other one had a waist like yours, and this girl right here, her eyes are almost the same colour as yours.

But he couldn't bring them home, to your bed, so he got to the closer hotel and rented a suite so he could fuck pieces of you on other women.

After that, he became an even heavier drinker, trying to function properly when he switched the morning tea for whiskey on the rocks.

His bandmates were careful enough not to address his mood or your absence right away, but when you were gone for two months and Roger kept missing his tempo, they had to talk to him.

"Roger, we're giving you space to deal with whatever happened, darling, but if you keep messing up the songs in the rehearsals, I don't even want to imagine what you'll do on tour", Freddie said, putting his hand on Rog's shoulder.

"It doesn't help that you're arriving an hour and a half late and drunk", Deacy said.

"None of you are ever on time", Roger said, muffled, just so he wouldn't have to listen to everything in silence.

"I know it's been hard for you since she left you, Roger. But we need our drummer", Brian completed.

Roger tried to stop drinking, at least before 5pm., but it was hard. Some days, he still couldn't cope with the fact that you were gone yet still all around him, your marks and smell and furniture all around the house, even in the cup he was drinking coffee from - it was the one you used to drink on.

So he felt a burst of anger hit him - you were the one to leave, the one who took initiative in breaking up with him, and yet he was the one spending too much money on whiskey so he could handle being without you. He felt the anger through him like a buzz, itching his fingers to break something, and he threw your cup against the wall.

And immediately regret it - he walked closer to it and saw too many pieces of porcelain, and his big, crude hands wouldn't be able to glue them together. Maybe you could. But if you were here, the cup wouldn't be broken.

He had to leave the house.

So he drove around, and decided the best place to apologize to the memory of you for the broken cup would be the place that brought you here. The British Museum.

You took him there many times, and you always started the tour with the Rosetta Stone, admiring it as he admired you.

He'd always be turned on by the sight of you, serious yet excited, teaching him about old civilizations and how you always felt conflicted that those artifacts were there, in the middle on London, when they should've stayed in the places they were first located unless it wasn't safe for them anymore, but how you anyway loved the British Museum.

You were so smart - it always amazed Roger how much you knew that he could only imagine.

And it turned him on, him always holding you close, your back pressed against him as you looked at the expositions, walking slowly from an exhibit to other, and you'd stop talking as much, cause you knew Roger's attention was now on your body, not your words. You were just teasing him, moving even slower, taking more time in places where there was too many people for him to take initiative. He knew what you were doing - it was a game for the two of you.

He'd kiss your neck - one of his favourite things to do, the feeling of your soft skin on his lips, watching you react to him with goosebumps - as you tried to keep focused on the artifacts, and if the room now was empty enough, Roger would slowly turn you to face him, a smirk on his lips as he got closer to you and kissed him.

"You're so hot when you get all historic with me", he'd say, between kisses. "Let's go to the bathroom", he'd ask, and you'd smirk back, pretending to consider his offer. You followed him to the bathroom many times.

But now he was there, alone, watching the Rosetta Stone instead of you, and he felt like in a dream - those things were so old, so special, and yet the only thing that made them interesting for him was the memories he had of them associated with you.

Now he could really pay attention to them, and he felt calmer when the thought hit him - these things are so old, travelled through land and sea, unsafe, stolen, and yet were still there, right in front of his eyes, almost daring him to complain about his own troubles. Tell me about what makes you feel like you could disappear and I'll show you how to resist. I'll show you how to last, they promised him.

And then it clicked. The feeling of permanence you always said you had when you were around these things, how they calmed you down. Roger understood it, now.

So he got back home and picked all the things that made him think of you too intensely, and put it in the small wooden box in front of him now. He stopped drinking before noon.

He started to enjoy museums, too. He'd wake up a few hours earlier now, when they were visiting a new place, and go to any museum they had - even if it was a weird, transit museum, he'd spend 15 minutes there and try to enjoy it.

The boys enjoyed this new habit of his, especially Brian and Freddie, fans of natural history and art museums, respectively.

But it was Deacy who went with him to the Met last year, in 1976, when they were all in New York. He always felt uncomfortable visiting New York, knowing he was in the same city as you and wondering if he should try finding you, but it was hard - you decided to take your name off the phone book, since some Queen fans knew you once dated Roger, and could be less than nice out of jealousy.

So he went to the Met the last time he was there, and Deacy followed him. Roger told himself that he was just trying to continue his tradition of visiting a museum in each city, and the Met was one of the biggest museums in New York.

But deep down, he was hoping to see you. He walked around, not looking at the artifacts as much as he looked at the visitants, trying to find a familiar face. Deacy noticed that.

"You're always weird when we're in New York, but now you look crazy. Is this where Y/N works? Are you stalking her?", he asked, and Roger frowned.

"No, Deacon. I'm just trying to keep my tradition", but he knew Deacy was right. He kept imagining you walking around, your hair up on a ponytail as you checked the expositions, the statues and the jewelry, your clinical eye looking for something to be repaired, strands of your hair falling off the ponytail.

But he couldn't find you - the museum was interesting, but he couldn't enjoy it, always nervous when he saw someone with the same hair color as yours, only to feel disappointed after he saw that they were not you. So Deacy and him left after walking around all of the historical exhibits. The only proof he had that you were still there was your name on the Staff Wall close to the exit, under Curator of Metal Age Collections. He had to stop himself from going back to those collections and spending more time in the room - Deacy would be suspicious.

But it warmed Roger's heart to see your name there - as if it got him closer to you. After years, he could even remember your fruity smell - fresh, peaches and cherries. Good enough to eat, he laughed at his own bad joke from four years ago. Only four years since you first skipped class together and kissed on a pub. It felt like a past life - easier, happier.

It seemed even further away now that he was moving out of the flat, alone, looking at the most heartbreaking memories of you.

All of the polaroids that once covered one of the walls in the living room were all in the box, too. Roger picked one of them, and smiled when he recognized it. You were looking happy on his family's backyard, smiling with his mother by your side.

It was 1973 and he took you to meet his family. You were dating for a year, and he loved taking you on road trips around England - not only when they had shows to perform. He liked to see your reaction to the fields and fresh air. "My family never liked to leave New York, unless it was to visit another big city", you told him once.

And one time he was on the phone with his mom, and she heard you singing as you cooked dinner. "Roggie, what is this?", she asked, and he laughed. "Y/N, mum. My girl", he answered. "The american? Did she kept you around? After all this time?" she joked, and Roger scoffed. "Yeah, mum. I can't believe you expect me to just keep fucking around forever", he said to annoy her, and she nearly screamed.

"Roger, watch your fucking language!" and he laughed. "I want to meet her, Roggie", she said, and he thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, sure. I'll talk to her", he answered.

You were pretty nervous at first, but you agreed on going. Roger loved driving with you by his side, putting your bare feet on the dashboard (the only person who could do it in his car and get away with it) as you sang to whatever song it was playing - even if you don't know the lyrics, you'd just improvise something as the song continued, getting Roger to laugh a few times.

You stopped for lunch, getting chips and a coke to share on the hours left on the road. You stopped the music for a while, and read to Roger. You were both reading A Clockwork Orange, just because it was one of your favourite movies.

And once you arrived to his family's house, everyone was instantly nice with you. You remember to compliment Roger's mom's cooking at lunch, which earned you her instant liking, and then you went into Roger's old room, now the guest room you'd both be staying, and left your duffel bag and A Clockwork Orange.

After that, you wanted to walk around, exploring the city. Roger wasn't excited.

"We could just use my car and drive around", he said, tired.

"Rog, you know I like walking around. C'mon, don't be so lazy", you asked, pouting.

"Fine", he said, and kissed your pout. "I swear, you can get me to do anything if you pout", he told you, and you laughed.

"That's some useful information. What else? Where should we go in Truro?", you asked, and he thought for a few seconds before answering.

"Well, I haven't been here in years. And I spent most of my time on parking lots, drinking, if I wasn't playing an instrument", he told you, and it was your turn to kiss him.

"Such a bad boy", you said, and he smirked.

You ended up walking around the center, a bunch of shops on your way, but you barely paid attention to them as Roger told you some more specific stories about his teenage years, his first time drinking, his first time smoking weed - small things he never told you before.

He was telling you about the first time he ever drove a car once it started to rain. You both went running back to his house, getting soaked as you tried to run without slipping, Roger complaining that you should've went out driving.

Once you got to his family's house, his mom pushed two towels on Roger's arms and told you two to shower.

As you went inside the bathroom, you looked at your messy makeup in the mirror, the eyeliner and mascara completely ruined after the rain. You cleaned your face on the sink as Roger explained.

"So as far as I remember, the shower is tricky. The hot is cold and the cold is hot, and you need to open one up completely before the other. And if someone flushes a toilet in Falmouth, you're gonna feel it, cause the hot water will be gone for a few moments", he told you, getting the shower ready, and you admired his figure through the mirror. He noticed that.

"Everything okay?" he asked, and you nodded. "More than okay", you said, turning around and facing him, a smile forming on your lips. "It's just that I like you a lot. You know I love you. But I also like you a lot", you told him, and he started moving closer to you. "Walking around your city and listening to you for hours made me realize that. I don't think there's anyone I like more in the world than you", you completed, as he stopped mere inches away from your face.

"And I like everything about this house… It's so happy and full of people. I love the noise, the smells...", you told him, looking down. "Even the smells?", he joked, and you laughed, but continued.

"And when your mom hugged me today… She really hugged me", you said, looking back at him, into his eyes. He smiled at you.

"I really like you, too", he told you, and you felt like you were about to cry. You were emotional ever since he invited you to meet his family, because it meant compromise. And you were scared they wouldn't like you, but now they did, especially his mom, and it made you emotional. For the first time, you could really see a future with him - with your own noisy house in a peaceful neighbourhood, full of people, a real family.

"And that's why I don't want to see you like this. Smile for me, babe. C'mon", he said, tickling your waist, and you held a smile. "C'mon. Give me a big smile", he told you, and you gave him a big, fake smile, and the two of you laughed. "That's better", he said, moving his hands so they could cup your face, bringing it closer to his own.

He started kissing you slowly, carefully, as if he wanted to comfort you, to make you feel safe in his arms, caressing you as he kissed you. And it worked.

But you wanted more, so when you both broke the kiss to get some air, you lifted your arms up, inviting him to take your dress off as you smirked. He laughed, but did it anyway. You moved your hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up. He laughed again, and said "Teenager me would be so proud", and it was your turn to laugh.

"And why is that?", you asked, knowing the answer. "Cause I'm about to shag a beautiful foreigner in my shower", he told you, a devilish smirk on his lips, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him, kissing you again.

You smiled against his lips as your hands unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling them down, at the same time he unclasped your bra, moving his hands so he could cup your breasts.

You moaned when his thumbs rubbed against your nipples, and that made him move one of his hands to your lips. "You're gonna have to be quiet, my love", he said, still brushing his thumb over your nipple with one of his hands, as the one that was covering your mouth roamed through your body before pulling your lingerie down.

Now that you're both undressed, you start to walk to the shower as you kiss him again, and he walks along. Once you're inside, he presses you against the humid wall, moving one of your legs up to his waist as the warm water hits your skin.

"You're so beautiful", he whispers, breaking away from the kiss so he can look at you, your chest moving along your heavy breathing, your body glistening as the water wet your skin.

Then he moved his hand to your core, massaging it, and you had to bite your lip not to moan. You kept biting your lip, hard, as he slid a finger into you, pumping it in and out.

Your legs were shaking, and the one that was holding you on your foot was getting weaker by the second as Roger's fingers pleasured you.

"Roger, please..." you whispered, and he started to slow down his movements. "What do you want, babe?", he asked, and you whimpered at the loss of friction. "I want you", you told him, but he was teasing you. "I'm already here. What do you want me to do? This?" he asked, as he slid another finger into you, and you felt the blood on your mouth as you bit your lips the hardest to keep quiet.

"I want more. I want you to fuck me, Roger", you told him, and he looked serious - the sigh of you asking for him to fuck you on his shower, hell, the shower where he jerked off for the first time, made his pupils dilate. You watched as his eyes turned darker.

Then he moved the leg that was already on his waist even further up, and he stroked his cock for a moment before sliding it into your core, the taste of blood filling your mouth again as you bit your lips.

His hands moved to your waist as he started to move inside you, and you looked for his lips to help keeping you from moaning. He moved his hands up and down your thighs, and finally moved your other leg up to your waist, giving him even more access to you, making him go even deeper.

But now Roger was alone, four years later, getting hard at the thought of you.

This is fucking depressing, he thought to himself.

And he spent the rest of the day packing, and slept on the couch you had sex and watched TV on so many times before - the memory of you haunted him again in his last night at the flat.

And the next day, after he helped the moving team take the boxes and furniture to the truck, as he put fresh water and tuna outside for the cat for the last time, he said goodbye to most of the memories of you that would stay inside the house.

From the box of memories, he was only taking the polaroids and the heart - he couldn't get himself to throw these things out.

As he locked the front door to the flat for the last time, he said something to himself he hasn't said in years.

"Goodbye, Y/N."

---

Chapter 18

Masterlist

Taglist:

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