#so much so that they got their GOOD tupperware back without having to ask

[solarmorrigan]

“Hey.”

Eddie looks up from the inventory sheet he’s bent over (the new shipment of records isn’t going to record itself – Christ, that was awful, Henderson is contagious) to see his coworker Kyle poking his head into the back room.

“Someone left something for you at the counter.”

“Who?” Eddie asks, brows furrowed.

Most everyone in town seems to have let the murder accusations drop (embarrassed enough by their own fanatical reactions that they’d much rather forget the whole thing), but a few people still treat him like a felon walking free; it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.

“Uh, real normie-looking guy. Gives you a ride sometimes.”

Eddie blinks. “Steve?”

“Yeah, sure.” Kyle shrugs. “Says you left it in his car.”

Whatever Eddie is expecting to see when he follows Kyle back out to the front counter of the music shop, a brown bag lunch isn’t it. He most certainly hadn’t left that in Steve’s car this morning.

Steve hadn’t even given him a ride that morning.

But it’s got his name on it, sure enough, in Steve’s weirdly neat handwriting. The asshole even drew a little heart next to it.

Eddie can already feel a smile pulling across his face as he snatches up the bag. Maybe he hadn’t forgotten his lunch in Steve’s car, but he certainly hadn’t brought one in with him. He’d been planning to hit up the McDonald’s down the street if he got desperate, but whatever Steve’s brought him is bound to be better.

“Your girlfriend pack that for you?” Kyle asks.

Eddie lets out a little huff of a laugh, for a minute not quite sure how to answer.

Gender assumptions aside, Eddie doesn’t know what to call this thing with Steve – this thing where they’d started screwing and then they’d started falling asleep together without screwing and then they’d started spending all their free time together and now Steve does things like pack Eddie lunch and bring it to him at work.

“Sorta,” he finally settles on.

“Dude, if she’s making you lunch and writing little hearts next to your name, she’s more than ‘sorta’ your girlfriend,” Kyle says.

“Yeah… Maybe,” Eddie allows, because – well, because maybe.

“Pretty nice of your friend to drive it over, though,” Kyle says. “Pretty sure at least half of my friends would’ve just eaten it.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, warm and a little smug, “Steve’s a good dude.”

He digs into the lunch sack and finds an apple sitting on top (of course), a baggie of Keebler fudge cookies (score), and a Tupperware container filled with–

“Oh, fuck yes!” Eddie hugs the precious little tub full of macaroni and cheese to his chest like he’s doing his best Gollum impression. There is nothing in the world better than Steve’s mac and cheese.

It’s still warm.

“I’m taking my break!” Eddie declares, skittering off to the back room before Kyle can argue.

He sits himself down in the employee break area (a crappy folding table, two mismatched chairs, and a microwave so old he’s probably getting radiation poisoning just by sitting next to it) and digs in to the cheesy goodness that is Steve’s cooking.

He’ll eat the apple after, he reasons.

(No he won’t.)

As he eats, his eyes drift back to the crumpled brown bag, to the little heart drawn in bleeding black sharpie, and he thinks.

-

Steve’s house smells like chicken and herbs when Eddie lets himself in early in the evening, and oh, Steve must be in a good mood today.

Eddie feels spoiled.

He finds Steve in the kitchen, wrist-deep in sudsy water as he sways back and forth absently to the tune of the rock station coming from the radio on the windowsill. The room is warm, and something delicious-smelling in a covered pan is simmering on the stove, and the space behind Steve is invitingly empty, just waiting for Eddie to sidle up into it.

Eddie feels so, so spoiled.

Steve doesn’t startle when Eddie slides in behind him and wraps his arms around his waist, but Eddie isn’t really surprised anymore; it seems like Steve can always tell when someone is there.

He does glance over his shoulder, though, just long enough for Eddie to see the smile on his face before he turns back to the dishes. “Hi.”

Eddie’s pretty sure the smile on his own face is softer and infinitely more besotted. “Hi.”

“Good day at work?” Steve asks.

Eddie hums, pressing a kiss to the top of Steve’s shoulder. “You brought me lunch.”

“I’m glad Kyle actually gave it to you,” Steve says. “Wasn’t sure someone else wouldn’t eat it.”

“I got it,” Eddie says, as if there was any doubt with the way he’s still smiling in between trailing little kisses up Steve’s neck.

Steve shuts the water off and dries his hands on the towel hanging off the cupboard door before turning in Eddie’s arms to give him a proper kiss. “It was good?”

Eddie hums again. “You brought me lunch.”

“We’ve established that, yeah,” Steve laughs, allowing Eddie another kiss as he grins.

“You made me lunch,” Eddie says, pecking another kiss to Steve’s lips, still smiling like an idiot. “And you drove it up to the store for me.”

Steve shrugs, a little coy. “It’s my day off. I had time to kill.”

“Kyle says that makes you more than sorta my girlfriend,” Eddie replies, as if that will make any sense at all to Steve.

Whether it makes sense or not, it does make him laugh, and Eddie peppers kisses all over his face while he does.

“So it was good?” Steve asks again, when he’s caught his breath.

“You made me lunch and then you drove it over to me,” Eddie stresses. “It could’ve tasted like ass, and it still would’ve been the best thing ever.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but is more than obliging to the deep kiss Eddie pulls him into after that.

“But just so we’re clear,” Steve says when they break apart, “it didn’t taste like ass, right?”

“Oh my god, no,” Eddie finally relents. “It was literally the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I’m going to marry you so you can make that mac and cheese for me every day.”

“Every day, huh?” There’s a funny little smile climbing back over Steve’s face. “You sure you won’t get sick of it?”

“Nah,” Eddie replies confidently. “Never.”

They’re both smiling a little too much now to really kiss, but they make a good go of it anyway.

[Prompt: Smiling between kisses]

[hyukassubi]

Sorry, The Food Is Cold...

Pairing : Husband!Beomgyu x Wife!Reader

Genre : Angst around the middle, bittersweet fluff at the end

Warnings : Aside from Beomgyu getting a little lonely, none!

Synopsis : Beomgyu waits patiently for his wife to return home from work. The clock keeps ticking, and the food is getting cold...

Content : Beomgyu being lonely for like 60% of the whole fic *sob sob*

Wc : 1.2k words

Tag : @itzzz-yerin

The store-bought gyoza sizzles on the pan. Beads of of sweat trickle down Beomgyu's forehead on this cold night, wiping them off with the back of his arm, sleeves pulled up to his elbows.

The only reason he'd pan-fry the entire bag is because he wanted to have someone to share his dinner with- his lover.

You.

And while flipping the wedges of gyoza-goodness, all he could think about was: 'this would go well with some tea'.

The thing is, you weren't even home.

These past couple of days, work had just been piling up on you. It didn't matter how much you enjoyed your work, too much of a good thing is never really a good thing.

But it paid your bills, and all you wanted for you and your husband was a comfy home the both of you could live in for the time being. So, night after night, the hours grew longer, and the longer it took for you to arrive home.

Beomgyu got used to skipping 'golden hour cafe dates' with you, or snuggling up on the couch talking about your work while crocheting that huge floral blanket of yours— you fiddled and played with the wool, he played and kissed your hair. Even hearing the trickle of water as you shower in the bathroom, humming a foreign melody, and he'd smile everytime he heard your voice.

But here he was, at home, couch empty, the only tunes available being the sizzling of oil on the pan and a couple arguing upstairs, and then, a ping on his phone—

A ping on his phone.

Beomgyu jolted to the sink, washing his hands way too fast before wiping them dry and then reaching to his phone and—

An hour had gone by.

Beomgyu finally stood up, skittering into the kitchen. Upon his five-minute search, he scavanged a hoard of tissues, neatly placing them over the dishes. Beomgyu checked his phone again for the first time in a while, only to receive two missed calls from… his high school dance club friends.

He chuckled, walking to… he didn’t know where.

The kitchen? He grabbed a tupperware full of orange slices and walked out.

The living room? The empty couch made without a body to hold to lay on his chest and hair to play with made the apartment seem all the more spacey.

The bedroom? Same reason as the couch, except instead of a couch sits a king sized bed that is empty, not to mention the lingering smell of fresh laundry and flower gardens coming from your closet full of your clothes that have your scent making Beomgyu remember flashes of you.

Beomgyu stood there, in a hall, in the middle of his apartment— your apartment—contemplating.

The balcony it is.

Two hours had gone by.

The thing about Beomgyu was that his voice box never dies out, even after a two hour talkathon with the boys, arguing about how rat infestations in Soobin’s apartment makes his place banned for boys night sleepovers because Beomgyu might just turn his entire kitchen into the korean Ratatouille live action no one asked for but didn’t know they needed.

An intriguing conversation indeed over muscats under the shining stars. Beomgyu settled down for the time being,tracing out figures of kitchenware and forest animals in the sky. Not long after, a semi-cold feeling brushes past him like a wailing ghost in search of heaven in mid-air.

He was lonely.

Beomgyu pressed his lips together, leaning forward from his seat. He thought, maybe if he looked closely enough, somewhere down there, he’d spot a tiny white car planted in the middle of the road, glued in place in that rat trap of traffic.

Except he does see that familiar tiny white car on the road.

Beomgyu’s eyes widened.

My wife!, he thought.

… Although it could just be someone else’s car-

The table started vibrating.

Beomgyu snapped out of his train of thoughts, clinging onto his phone.

“Beomgyu, darling,” that familiar voice that itched the right spots in Beomgyu’s brain flowed into his ears like honey, “I swear, I’m on my way home, it’s just— the traffic is absolutely horrendous right now.” You went on rambling about some sort of traffic light malfunction, a delay at work, bitter coffee that didn’t sit right with your tastebuds and Beomgyu continued to listen , phone pressed to his ears, eyes on the road below simply watching that tiny… little white car.

He didn’t know how long it took until, at some point during all that rambling, he cut your yapping short. “Sweetheart, give me ten minutes—”

“—Wait what do you mean ten min—”

Beomgyu hung up.

He raced to the kitchen, swaddling up two sets of cutlery inside cherry patterned napkins and a tupperware.

If you could drive into the sewers underground sprouting out of the pipes into your apartment, you… wouldn’t because water bills aren’t cheap, not in this economy.

Your forehead slams onto the steering wheel, a loud wail of your horn blaring for ten whole seconds. Home is literally a street-or-two-and-an-additional-U-turn away, you could’ve been home hours ago in the welcoming embrace of your husband, eating his simplistic yet mouth-watering store-bought dishes… holding each other closely while talking about… the future? Life?… Kids? That was still a mile or two hundred away into the future but… it wasn’t impossible now wasn’t it?

Your head fell onto the steering wheel once more.

And when you lifted it back up… Beomgyu???

What… What’s your husband doing on the sidewalk? Waving manically, bookmarking into the tight spaces between car after car.

“Open the roof.” He insisted, he yelled, he- Oh my God, he’s really gonna climb through there???

You felt— What did you feel? How did you feel about this? Is this even real? Your eyes fell on Beomgyu’s left hand, holding onto a small bag.

The roof of the car slid open.

And so did Beomgyu.

Smooth as silk, he dropped into the car.

The roof closed shut.

“What the hell are you doing?” Your question came out confused and flustered all at the same time.

Beomgyu crawled into the passenger seat, unknotting the cloth of the bag. “Thought I’d get some fresh air and make a small delivery!” he passed a fogged up tuperware your way.

For a moment, all you could do is blink. You just blinked. And then, in the next moment, Beomgyu’s tuperware wasn’t clutched in his hand anymore. “This is why I love you so much.” You opened the tuperware, that salty-sweet scent of sauce looming in the congested air.

Beomgyu chuckled. “Because I cook passable food?” Another chuckle, more awkward than the last. “Sorry, the food is cold.”

“Well… you’re thoughtful.” You started slow, swirling a piece of gyoza around the sea of soy sauce. “You’re loving, you’re you. You’re all I want.”

It definitely wasn’t the trick of a million headlights surrounding the happy couple— Choi Beomgyu was blushing, ever so faintly, looking away.

You placed a hand on Beomgyu’s jaw, plopping a piece into his mouth. “Eat up.”

A/n: I had a friend group later in my highschool days whom I thought of as my girl gang once. I've matured since then once I realized how lonely and misunderstood they made me felt, not because they were bad people in any way, but we had different love languages and communication styles the more we grew older *starts playing 'drama' by txt*. I wanted to encapsulate this lonely feeling in the form of a fanfiction, though it is neither of the two parties faults. I wanted to write something that didn't make making a bold/first move feel like walking over eggshells.

🫶 Reblog and review if you like my work 🫶

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest & @steddie-spooktober.

Smell My Feet

CCF Prompt: Envy & Spooktober Prompt: Trick or Treat | Word Count: 1313 | Rating: T | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Pre-Steddie? They're Kiddos | CW: Latchkey Kids | Tags: Pre-Series, Trick or Treating, Halloween Night, Making a New Temporary Friend Was So Much Easier As Kids

Whoa. This neighborhood is crazy. Eddie pulls up on his bicycle, and looks around. Taking in all the houses. The big, big houses that probably have all the best candy. Kids are running everywhere, criss-crossing the streets, yelling at their friends.

And Eddie can't help but wonder what they're getting. Good stuff, he bets. 

Eddie is all by himself, with Wayne at work. Eddie doesn't know anyone very well, not yet, making friends is hard, especially when you show up a month and half after the first day, but that's okay. He doesn't mind all that much. He's used to moving around.

Tonight though, he's too busy watching the other kids as they're hitting all the houses on the block. He'd listened to his classmates at school gossiping about where the best trick-or-treating would be. He couldn't help but feel jealous hearing them chatter about what they got last year, including dollar bills from the Smith's and the best homemade orange popcorn balls from Ms. Ellen, whoever that is.

All Eddie knew is that he wanted full-size candy bars, dollar bills and orange popcorn balls, too. So, he put on his costume, the cheap plastic thing from Melvald's, and rode his bike the seven miles to get here.

His legs hurt, the pants are kind of shredded, and Wayne's definitely gonna kill him. He was supposed to stay in the trailer park. Trick-or-treat there, because Wayne got thrown on the schedule at the plant, at the last minute. It happens. Eddie's used to it. He's good at taking care of himself. 

But tonight's Halloween. 

And Eddie doesn't want to trick-or-treat in the trailer park, because Eddie knows his neighbors. Knows what he'd get, and he didn't want a pillowcase full of peanut butter kisses and Sixlets.

Instead, he dreams of full size candy bars. Snickers and Hershey and Reeses. 

And Wayne drove him through Loch Nora, showing him the houses he planned to take him to, and Eddie's good at memorizing things he's seen before, so he had no problem getting back. Even if it took a long time. Even if his legs burned from riding uphill.

But he forgets that, the second the candy starts rolling in. And it is good stuff.

After leaning his bike against a tree in the yard, Eddie knocks on the door, remembers to say trick-or-treat, and is surprised to see another little boy standing there with an orange Tupperware bowl of full-size candy bars in his hands.

"Pick one," the boy says, and Eddie looks at all the choices, before taking one from the bowl. 

"Thank you," Eddie says, remembering to be polite. Before he had to work, Uncle Wayne had said they could come to the rich neighborhood, but that Eddie had to be good and polite if they did. Uncle Wayne might not be with him to see if he's polite or not, but he'll still try his best.

The other boy nods, and Eddie can't help asking, "Why aren't you out trick-or-treating?"

The boy shrugs, "My parents aren't home yet. So, I'm answering the door until they get here. And now my friends have already gone without me, anyway. It's okay."

"Oh," Eddie says, and it's not okay. Eddie would hate to miss trick-or-treating. He lingers on the step, then says, "Well, if your parents get home, you can go trick-or-treating with me, if you want to."

"Okay, yeah," the kid says, looking a little happier than he did when he answered the door.

"I'm Eddie," Eddie tells him.

"I'm Steve."

"Okay, Steve. I'll be back later."

"If you forget, that's okay, too," Steve says, and Eddie's not gonna forget. His memory is good.

"I won't forget. You got a costume?"

And Steve nods.

"Good. Get it on."

Steve nods again, and Eddie smiles. He can hit a few more houses, and then go back to see if Steve's ready to go get some candy. 

Eddie takes a long look at the house, memorizing where it sits, and pedals off towards the next house.

Twenty minutes later, Eddie returns, Steve comes out, and he's wearing a Donald Duck mask.

"My mom picked it," Steve says, pushing it up onto the top of his head, and Eddie decides not to make fun. At least Steve still has a mom to pick out his costumes, as stupid as he looks.

"They still aren't home," Steve says.

Eddie takes the bowl, and puts it on the porch, "Got a pen and paper?"

Sign made, they get on their bikes and take off down the bustling street, looking for their first house.

House after house, they run around the whole neighborhood. Steve gives him tips on houses he might have missed otherwise without his inside info.

"Do it," Eddie urges as he pushes the bell and Steve giggles.

The door opens, and Eddie nudges Steve.

"Trick-or-treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat," they both sing-song, and the lady behind the door laughs. Eddie can't believe he got Steve to do it.

"Oh, Steven," she says, but gives them both a big handful of candy.

They both say thank you, and Eddie's having fun. Steve's a year younger than he is, so that's why he's never seen him before at school, but he's tall. Taller than Eddie. 

Eddie's pillowcase is getting heavy and a little hard to handle.

When Steve says he's gotten enough, Eddie happily throws in the towel, too.

Back at Steve's house, they lay on the floor of the huge living room on their bellies, spreading all their candy out, ready to make trades. Steve's parents still haven't come home, and Eddie wonders if they just work late sometimes like Wayne. 

Eddie needs to go.

"Maybe we should ask the neighbor next door to drive you home," Steve says, "it's pretty late."

"I'll be okay," Eddie says, but he does worry about all that candy weighing him down.

Steve follows him to the door, "Thanks for going with me."

Eddie just nods, "Find me at recess. We'll hang out."

And Steve grins, and Eddie really hopes he does.

Steve walks him to his bike, and the streets are pretty empty, trick-or-treating over for another year. Maybe next year Eddie can come back here and do it with Steve again. 

There's one set of headlights, and Steve holds Eddie back at the end of the driveway. It slows as soon as the headlights catch sight of them.

It's a woman, and she rolls down the window, asking kindly, "Steve. It's a little late to be on your bikes, isn't it?"

Steve isn't even on a bike, Eddie thinks. 

"Hi, Nurse Claudia," Steve says, then looks at Eddie. "Um, I know. We lost track of time. This is Eddie. He's just going to ride home."

"Do you live around here, Eddie?" she asks.

And Eddie shakes his head. 

"Can I give you a ride home, then?" she asks, and Eddie really doesn't want to get in with a stranger all by himself. He looks in the backseat and she does have a little kid in a car seat, dressed as a pumpkin.

"Nurse Claudia used to work at the school, before she had a baby," Steve offers, and Eddie nods. That's probably okay, then. It was a long way from the trailer park to here, and now it's dark and cold.

A ride wouldn't be so bad.

"Okay. Thank you," Eddie says, and Steve helps him load his bike into the back hatch of her car, the little kid sound asleep in the backseat, plastic pumpkin clutched in his fist.

Eddie crawls into the front seat, and waves at Steve as they pull away.

"So, Eddie, where do you live?" Nurse Claudia asks.

"Forest Hills Trailer Park," Eddie answers.

"Dustin and I will be happy to take you home. That's a long way, huh?"

If you want to write your own, or see more entries, check out @corrodedcoffinfest to read takes on all the Seven Deadly Sins, or to offer up your own!

For more Spooktober, pop on over to @steddie-spooktober to follow along with the fun!

Notes: I fucking love peanut butter kisses, Eddie, and I will not stand for this slander of them. The molasses taffy? The dry, crumbly peanut butter inside? Sign me up. (They were discontinued a few years ago, and I haven't seen any knockoffs of them locally.)

Want to see what costumes looked like in 1975? Enter at your own risk. (See: Donald Duck, top row, second from the right.)

And I was a door answering kid on Halloween. Though, for me, unlike for Steve, it was by choice. I liked to answer the door and hand out treat bags that I put together with my mom. It's still my favorite holiday.

Happy Halloween! 🎃

[bacchuschucklefuck]

Riz has counted four casseroles this week alone. Five, if one goes by the method of cooking, but Yelen's scary when she's crossed, and calling her burek by its proper name is important to her, so Riz does her the courtesy and doesn't include it in his mental tally.

He holds the tupperware over his head to keep it out if the way as he takes careful steps over the piles of notes in his path. The dockman case just closed, relevant documentations handed over to relevant personnels, evidences dealt with as needed; all he has lying around now is just record of the process and traces of himself thinking through it. Unsurprisingly they still haven't invented a surface more convenient for people under five feet who like to pace to put pieces of paper on than the ground.

Actual records go into the case folder with the other documents. Anything else with at least one side still blank is going to the school kids in the block - they chew through an astounding amount of paper just learning arithmetic. The rest is for the recycling basket.

Later. It's his mandated lunch break right now.

Riz sits down in front of the corner file cabinet. In an office often overrun with papers and strings and sometimes even thumbtacks, he's never really managed to clutter up this exact square of surface like every other ones. Ever since the bottom drawer rattled for no discernible reason a day long past, his eyes have always just kinda decided to slide across the space without acknowledging it.

It's years out, now. Riz doesn't know why he thought it such a big deal anymore, back then. He wasn't scared, he doesn't think. Not anymore. Maybe just uncomfortable with the idea that certain things persist despite all efforts to change.

He opens the tupperware. Dame Carabelle's experiment greets him with enough spice in the aroma alone to knock out a small mammal. When he chopped the vegetables for this casserole he couldn't really imagine the eventual heft of it, evident even through just these few ladles' worth, maybe weighing heavier for being still warm. His folk eat more through the smell and the textures and the aftertastes than the taste itself. His folk's meal is really the cooking rather than the eating. The eating is the meal's end.

"Hey," he tells the file cabinet's bottom drawer. "Um."

It's the anniversary. Riz doesn't know the exact date of his dad's death; nobody currently alive does. He and Mom both use the date of the funeral, though as he moved out to Bastion and then got more directly involved with Interplanar he hasn't really been going to Dad's grave as much. Doesn't seem like very efficient use of his time, catching a train or borrowing a car or spending a whole spell slot on going somewhere he knows Dad isn't at. They're sorta coworkers now. They talk on and off every other week between missions. When he goes now, it's just to clean up the place, keeping the landmark tidy and respectable.

Without that work to mark the date he doesn't really know what it serves anymore. But he still remembers it. Still takes note, absently or not, when it comes around.

There's not really a good way to tell the drawer that. Riz looks for another way to start the... conversation, hopefully. The question at play, he'd guess, is why he's doing this. He's been pretty content ignoring all the rattlings and the knocks from inside and the times it sits slightly ajar without him ever opening it himself; hell, he still uses the three drawers on top of it. Space is fucking precious in Bastion.

Precious enough to finally fix this damn drawer so he gets his turn to use it? Riz asks himself. Is that what we're getting to? Then he dismisses the thought - he didn't manage to fix it the times he actually tried, let alone-- now. When he doesn't really care that much to.

That's probably a good place to start. "'s fine if you keep being in there, turns out," Riz says.

The lunch hours are quiet in the block, sleepy and bright with the brief window of sunlight that manages to break through roof overhangs and extended balconies and laundry lines and climbing vines. Riz's work isn't loud here (the loud parts happen away from his office, if everything goes right), but the fragment of early summer heat reflected in the steady warmth his meal still carries compels him to lower his voice even more. It makes the words feel intimate, in a way he's never been familiar with - if he says something he just says it. He doesn't whisper. If he gives his friends something, he gives it open-palm. He's found out, along the way, that people usually don't think of rituals and courtesies the way he does.

Small voice for a diminished monster. "You know why I think so?" Riz asks. "Because almost two decades ago you kidnapped me and almost killed me, and now you rattle a drawer in my office."

It doesn't sound as much like a taunt as Riz wanted it to; the drawer has made a lot of noises again this morning when he checked the calendar, and he was definitely annoyed at it. Now, though, facing it like this after cooking the whole morning with more grandparents and peers from the block than he can count on both hands to cater for a tenant union meeting, he thinks the annoyance has morphed. Changed shape.

It has the shades of something like pity. Riz is not prone to pity, and especially not at these kinda matters. It's slightly maddening that he coheres perfectly outside of this one spot. That he commands his spaces, except for a drawer.

He puts the tupperware onto the floor between himself and the cabinet. "I know we're aware it's the anniversary," he says at the drawer. "You do this every year. You make a ruckus every time I decide to go do my job instead of mooching off my friends' aircon, and every time I get an invitation to some stupid social thing I want to turn down, and every time one of the old people tries to introduce me to a child or a nibling, because being a bachelor over thirty is weird," he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I have three fucking jobs. I love doing my fucking jobs. I'm forcing funds into infrastructures. You're never leaving, are you."

The drawer vibrates lightly. It's a very, very mild acknowledgement, considering the history of reactions Riz has gotten from this thing. Riz thinks it's emanating joyous agreement, or satisfaction.

It only sharpens the pity. Riz doesn't like that, but it's how it is. That's, ultimately, the lesson he's been taught over and over and over again, just by existing as himself, turned every which way by space after space that don't see him eye-to-eye: it's not like he'd quit living over any of it. It's not like any of it can sand off these fundamental pieces of him.

He's outgrown a lot of things, he's found out. Again, and again, and again. A childhood home, a yearly trip, a monster.

"'s probably scary for you, huh?" He asks. "Because I left."

He thinks he hears joints creak that sound like you did. Probably the way a scorned lover would say it, in a movie or a yellowback. He has no more connection to the idea than he did as a kid. Less, because it doesn't even scare him.

"That's what it is, right? That it's the anniversary, and I'll never be like Dad." He raises a knee from the floor, pulls it back closer to him. Slings an arm over it. "You love to remind me. The thing is, Dad also left. He loved Mom and he loved me, and none of us wanted it to happen, but it still did. Because love does fuckall to make anyone stay on its own."

He's long past being bitter about it. It's just the facts. Once upon a time he looked into the future and the specter of his friends' happily-ever-after casted lightless, fathomless shadow over him. Love, marriage, that kind of devotion, to a fifteen-year-old with more solved cases than friends seemed so eternal. Final.

But you can only watch your friends build up apps' worth of jilted lovers for so long before getting over it.

"You know what I learned?" Riz tells the drawer. "Love doesn't make anyone stay. Project management does."

He stands up, and picks up the tupperware of Dame Carabelle's casserole, that he helped make, that he helped share with a block's worth of neighbors and members of a community he's at home with, and goes sit at his desk to eat. "Last chance to get any," he drops an offer over his shoulder as he walks away.

He doesn't eat all of his share in one go. What he's spared he leaves on the desk when going outside for a smoke break. Baron looks the exact same as when he saw them last, when he catches a glimpse; they haven't grown at all. They aren't there when he comes back inside, but the leftover has gone days-old cold, like someone's sucked the future out of it.

[luveline]

thought of a cute eddie and roan request!! since it’s almost summer time they go to the pool or beach?? roans having a blast

thank you!! dad!eddie takes you and his baby for a trip to the beach (lake)!! this is when they haven't been together as long and roan is younger!! dad eddie x fem!reader ♥︎ 3k

Eddie's daughter is nearly five years old, about 3ft 5in, and weighs less than fifty pounds. She has slightly chubby cheeks, a huge smile, and she has never been this excited in her life. 

"I swear I've taken her on vacation before," Eddie says, his eyes moving between the road, the side of your face, and Roan's joyous expression in the rear view mirror almost frantically. 

You push your sunglasses up your nose. "I believe you. I've seen the photos, Edward." 

He snorts. "You know that's not my name." 

"But it makes derision much funnier to call you something formal."

"You usually go with Munson." 

"I'm feeling festive today, it's such a good day." 

Roan agrees from the back with a small shout. 

You turn in your seat before Eddie can, eyes creased with affection when you see her again. Roan is in her best summer dress with her hair braided back out of her face, ending before her ears so her curls can take centre stage. She's got her delicate blue cardigan on, and a sandwich in her hands. You've been trying to break the long drive into smaller bits for her with snacks and songs, and it's worked thus far. 

"Do you want another sandwich, baby?" you ask, clicking open the the tupperware in your lap. "We've only got PB and J left, Eds. Can I give her that? I don't wanna ruin her dress." 

"If she wants it," he says, shrugging. His expression is cut short as he turns the wheel sharply to the side. "Woah! Sorry, ladies, I almost missed the turn. What a loser."

You tear Roan's sandwich into a smaller one and hand it back through the seats. "Try not to get it on your dress, princess, it's so pretty," you plead. 

"I won't," she says. As soon as you hand her the sandwich she drops it on her skirts. She's just old enough to understand what's happened, and giggles like she thinks she's about to be told off. 

You've seen Eddie do it enough times. Roan drops a crust or spills a drink and Eddie pretends to be cross, eyebrows drawn together in an unconvincing glare. "Roan," he always says, and if he can reach he chucks her under the chin with his knuckle, "how dare you. You know accidents aren't allowed." 

It warms your heart that her reaction to a potential chastisement is laughter. 

Roan has firmly passed baby stage: she doesn't look like a big baby, she looks like a very small child, with deceptively long arms and legs. She waves one leg toward you and says in her high-pitched, sometimes illegible voice, "My shoe's coming off." 

Her shoe isn't coming off, but the buckle around her ankle has come undone. 

"Oh no," you dote, leaning through the two front seats of Eddie's car to help. "What happened? You're too happy, babe, all your dancing must've wiggled the buckle free."

"I'm too happy," she agrees, "we're going to the beach now." 

"We're nearly there," Eddie says. 

Indiana Beach is an amusement park on Lake Shafer ninety miles away from Indianapolis, which is a good eighty miles from Hawkins. If you were to draw this journey on a map, it would look like the hands of a clock at three thirty, or a 'Y' without one of its eyes. With Eddie's cautious driving but not much traffic, it had taken you guys nearly three hours from the time you set off from his trailer at seven in the morning to now. It's an aching amount of time to confine a child, and Roan hasn't slept a wink, so her happy attitude is miraculous and perhaps precarious. 

Which is to say, you smother her in love and hope it will keep her from becoming too agitated. You and Eddie have already discussed the possibilities of her behaviour — if she started a screaming crying tantrum as she sometimes does, Eddie would pull over and you'd climb in the back. If your company didn't help, he'd pull over again and you'd take a break wherever you were. If she still didn't improve, you'd think about going home. The point of the trip is for Roan to have fun.

You can see the Galaxi from a mile away, a huge curling roller coaster on the Indiana Beach pier. Eddie starts grinning, really smiling, the kind you don't get to see very often. He smiled like that when he asked you to be his girlfriend outside of the Hawk movie theatre, and he smiled worse when you told him you loved him for the first time, your hand pressed against his chest and your face hiding in the crook of his neck. 

"Ro!" he says loudly, turning onto a side street in search of the parking lot, "look, baby! Can you see the lake? The beach? It's so sunny, oh my goodness." 

His hand reaches across for you. He squeezes your leg roughly, and it aches in the best way, fingertips digging into the soft inside of your thigh. You can't help laughing, pleasantly startled by his obvious joy. 

Roan starts talking and you're sorry but you're not an expert in her warbling yet, not when she's speaking a mile a minute. You catch "beach," and "sunshine," and "daddy!" but that's about it. 

He drives into a ticket parking lot a fifteen minute walk from the pier and finds a space with ease. You quickly undo your belt and get out, stretching your arms behind your back and leaning forward to roll your neck out. You're sore from all the back and forth, attention split between Eddie and Roan for the last three hours. 

Eddie gets out on the other side, and he should get Roan's stroller first, but it was never going to happen. He opens Roan's door and the excited stream of chatter increases between the both of them. You come around the back of the car and watch him pull her out of her car seat, fussing over her skirts and her hair and her tiny shoes. He makes one of those heaving dad groans when he picks her up, one arm skewed under her butt and the other behind her back. It's more hug than carry. 

"Hey, baby," he says, "how's that? Is it nice to be out of the car?" His hand moves to her legs. "Should we do some walking and stretching?" 

He rubs her legs. 

"Daddy, it's sunny, it's like– like with Uncle Wayne, when'd he says that the sunshine is out to play," she says, her hands moving from her chest and into the air above her head like a burst. "It's not messing around!" 

You laugh, your heart melted to a wet goo. Eddie gives you an eyeful, as if to say, Yeah, I made her, that's my kid, and I know she's the cutest thing on God's green earth, thank you very much for noticing. 

"It's not," he agrees, putting her down on the ground. You stand a little ways away, knowing she won't run into traffic but worried anyhow. 

Eddie holds one of her hands and Roan puts the other one back in the air, stretching up big and tall. Eddie strokes a hair behind her ear, and his thumb lingers affectionately on her cheek. 

"Will you wear your hat?" he asks. 

"Do you have a hat?" 

"Uh, no, daddy doesn't have one," he says. 

"But I do!" you butt in.

They turn to look at you. You open the trunk, digging through your packed bags to find the sunhat you'd brought with you. You pop it on your head and turn to smile at them. "See? So you wear yours and we'll be matching." 

Roan doesn't hesitate to crowd your legs. You grab her hat from her 'baby' bag and place it carefully on her head. It hides her beautiful hairdo, but it'll keep her safe from the heat. She looks you in the face and grins. 

"Beautiful," you compliment. 

Eddie doesn't look quite as summer ready as you both. His hair is down, shiny clean but unlikely to stay that way considering the heat. He's wearing blue denim rather than black, something he'd spoken of with horror but more than pulls off, and a black Motorhead t-shirt. There's one chain around his neck that he never takes off, but besides that he's sans jewellery. 

"Roan," he says, "we're gonna walk to the pier to stretch our legs, but you have to hold hands. And you can sit down in the stroller when they're tired again." She nods hurriedly at the idea that she'll be free for a while. "Okay. Alright." 

Eddie gets her stroller out and unfolds it, putting her baby bag in the seat. You rake your fingers through the ends of Roan's hair while you wait, the sun warming the back of your neck already. 

Eddie locks the car, and the three of you start toward the pier. Roan holds your hand and Eddie pushes the stroller out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk that leads to the pier. 

The smell of salt tickles your nose. Roan's hand flutters in yours like a hummingbird, excited gasps breaching her lips when you pass an ice cream stand bragging rainbow cotton candy bigger than her head, kaleidoscope gelato, Popsicles in cherry red, raspberry blue and lime green. Her eyes widen at the sight of huge diamond kites, yellow rubber dinghies, surfboards and wetsuits dripping water down sandy ankles. 

You know Eddie's been saving. He confessed, when you'd brought up your concern one night, that he wants her to have everything. 

What's going on? you'd asked, frowning at his bedraggled face after another late shift. You knew Wayne had been picking Roan up from daycare to let him keep working, and it just hadn't been like Eddie to do that. You can tell me anything.

You'd been expecting, regrettably, money troubles. The Munson's aren't rich but they've never been hurting for money since you met, and all these extra hours has you assuming the worst. 

Eddie rubbed a tired eye. I just want her to have everything. I don't want to say no. Not even once. When we go on vacation, I want her to point at things and I want her to know how it feels to be able to have them without a fight. 

Admirable, a tinsy bit silly. Of course he wants that, isn't that what everyone wants for their children? Admirable, because he wanted it and he worked for it, and he saved up enough to bring Roan here and spoil her within an inch of her life. Silly, because Roan doesn't ask for much. She does ask for stuff, of course, but she's not gonna beg him for a two hundred dollar professional kite, or state of the art arm floaties. But just because you think it's a little silly doesn't mean you aren't incredibly in love with him, impressed by and proud of his efforts. 

He wants to get Roan everything. And so they start with shaved ice. 

It's the second stand you see, just off of the pier with a long, long line. Eddie scoops her up off of the floor so she can see the different flavour combinations, and it's no surprise when she chooses all the pinks and red. Strawberry, cherry, and pink lemonade. The cone is bigger than her hands and costs a ridiculous seven dollars. 

The small smile on Eddie's lips when he can crack out a crisp twenty dollar bill and hand it over makes you smile, too. It's satisfying. All that hard work was worth it for this moment. 

And the moment after. Eddie takes the snow cone and Roan audibly sighs. 

"Oh, my gosh," she says. 

You laugh. Eddie looks at you from over his shoulder and beams. 

Roan wants to do everything, as Eddie predicted. She plays arcade games she's too short for, hoisted up on his knee or in your arms, face screwed in concentration every time, and though the controls escape her she loves hitting the big red button and watching the claw come down. 

But she also wants stuff money can't buy. She wants Eddie to hug her when the clown walks past because he's big and bright and a little scary. She wants kisses when they stand at the side of the pier to look at the lake, blue and clear as an ocean, and drops some of her own against Eddie's sweaty cheek when she's been loved up. She wants you both to swing her by the hand when you're walking down the ramp to the beach, which is difficult but not impossible with the stroller in Eddie's other hand. 

She wants to get ice cream, and a slurpee despite her half eaten snow cone. She wants soft pretzels and churros and a hotdog with extra onions. She wants a surfboard, and you dissuade Eddie from getting her one of the proper ones in favour of a floatie. 

She wants you to put the finishing touches on her crumbly sand castles, and to cuddle in your lap when Eddie makes her drink from a cold bottle of water. When you've been sat in the sun so long that your brain is jellified and you have more sand in your shoes than sock, she springs up from her stomach where she'd been kicking her little feet drawing smiley faces in the sand and demands you take her down to the waterfront. You leave your towels on and the stroller further up the bank and pray for the best, and Eddie peels out of his t-shirt and rolls up his pants a couple of feet from the water. Eddie pulls her sandy dress off to reveal the swimming costume she'd been wearing underneath, a bright yellow costume with a skirt, not too tight to hurt, and bends down at the waist to talk to her as they wait for the water to rush in. You encourage armbands over her elbows. 

"It's gonna be cold, Ro, so we have to run in! Are you ready?" 

"I'm super ready!" she says, squeezing his hand and squaring her shoulders. 

You secure her bands and take her other hand into your right hand, your shoes in your left, bracing yourself for the shock. 

You run in full pelt and screaming with joy. Roan's voice turns into a stream of "oh my god oh my gosh daddy pick me up'd it's too cold oh my gosh," as the water covers your calves and her waist. Eddie immediately leans down to pick her up, out of choices and surprised by her loud aversion. Water stains him from knee to navel. 

"It's not that bad, babe," he says, though he meets your gaze over her head and mock glares at your shaking head. It's freezing. "We just have to get used to it. Ready?" 

He doesn't let her get ready. He doesn't let you get ready. He grabs your wrist and pulls you with him, fighting the cold as the gentle lake tide laps at your waists. 

"Eddie, our pants!" you protest. You'd brought spare clothes in case of any accidents. This is decidedly not an accident. 

"Please, sweetheart, just come in," he says. 

He should legally be prevented from saying please and sweetheart in the same sentence. You submerge yourself to the waist as he wanted and stand there in the water, the taste of river water heavy on your lips now, splashes of cold wetting higher up your chest. It's close to intolerable, the only saving grace the heavy heat of the sunshine above you.

"How's that, Roanie?" he asks.

He's clearly having a blast. His eyes are brighter than the sun dappling that kisses the waves. 

"It feels squishy," you say, adjusting your footing in the sandy bottom of the lake. 

"This is so FUN!" Roan shouts, letting go of Eddie's neck to put her hands in the water. She splashes the surface and soaks Eddie's t-shirt to the neck in the process. 

You almost fall over trying to find his waist in the blue. You wrap and arm around Roan and Eddie wraps and arm around you, the three of you much too deep in the lake and with no plans of turning around just yet. 

"This is so fun," he says, kissing her cheek, kissing yours. "We should do this every year." 

You smile at his chest. 

You hadn't realised, yet, that he wanted you every year. Roan babbles her agreements, talking about her snow cone and the sunshine and her floatie. She stops suddenly. 

Eddie rubs her shoulder, water shining across her pale skin. "What, babe?" 

"Daddy, where's my floatie?" 

You head back up the beach to find it. Her stroller and your towels have been left alone, but the floatie must've been too tempting. 

Eddie, without complaint, goes to buy another. 

—

more Eddie and Roan ♡

please reblog if you enjoyed, it means so much!

[gretavanfleetposts]

Give Me Shelter

Author's Note: The long awaited sequel to Make Her Happy that literally no one asked for lol here's the first part

Content Warnings: dirty talk, penetrative sex (18+ minors do not interact), swearing

Word Count: 5.5k

Jake stood on the other side of the door with a grin plastered to his lips that you knew he hoped would make up for the fact that it was him rather than his brother.

It almost did.

It doesn't.

Almost.

"He could at least call me," you said angrily without so much as a 'hello' in his direction before you turned and let him meander through the door in your pursuit. This was an occurrence you were getting all too used to and formalities had been done away with long ago. You certainly weren't in the mood tonight.

"Maybe he was worried he'd feel the icy stare through the screen," he quipped from behind you, placing the bouquet of flowers in his hands that you hadn't even noticed on the counter as he followed you into the kitchen.

"He'd deserve it if he did."

You were beyond frustrated with him truthfully. Josh had sent Jake in his place several times since the first, although the first time had been the only time things had gone as far as they had. But you were beginning to feel like you were dating his twin. Not that he wasn't good to you when he came over. He just wasn't the one you wanted.

Well, maybe it was a bit more complicated than that.

"You want me to fight with you? Let you pretend I'm him?"

"He wouldn't fight with me," you sighed as you rummaged around in your kitchen cabinets looking for a container large enough to hold the full meal you had cooked. "He'd be understanding and sweet and make me feel heard and it would annoyingly take all of the fight right out of me."

"I'll be me then and fight back," he said with a wide smile that you didn't return as you moved to put dinner into the tupperware you had pulled out. But when he saw what you were doing, his brows furrowed and the smile disappeared. "Woah, what are you doing? It's still hot, we should eat it."

"I don't want to. I'm just going to order something," you answered flatly.

"I can do that." He took your wrists in his hands to stop your movements, even as you tried to pull them away. "Hey, wait, stop, I can do it. I'll put it away and do the dishes while the food is on its way. Just tell me what you're in the mood for."

It felt like a dam breaking as you let your face fall into his chest, his arms circling your body as tears began to flow.

"I just don't understand why he can't at least call or give me some kind of warning. He always does this, he does this more and more, and more and more I just feel like an accessory that sometimes he wants to wear and sometimes he doesn't."

"You're not an accessory to him, I promise you." He soothed you with a quiet voice and a hand snaking up into your hair to hold you against him. "He wanted to be here, he always does. It kills him that he's away so much but he really does love you."

"You're off, you have a break. Why are you here and he isn’t?"

"Well, I don't require nearly as much maintenance as that little diva," he answered with a laugh at his own joke. The joke didn't reach you though. It only seemed to solidify the feelings you'd been having more and more lately: Josh didn't have time for you.

"Come on," he jostled you from your thoughts before they could spiral, holding you away from him so he could meet your eyes. "You're hangry. Food will put things into perspective."

Food won't fix this.

Pizza does sound really good right now though.

You swiped tears away from your eyes with the back of your hand and sniffed back whatever waterfall needed desperately to fall.

"Pizza?" you asked quietly.

He smiled.

"Pizza it is. Go put your feet up; I've got this." He nodded toward the living room and with a sigh, you resigned to let him take care of things for the night. But before turning to head toward some actual relaxation, you met his eyes with gratefulness seeping into yours.

"Thank you."

"You can thank me later," he said with a smirk that had your stomach doing somersaults despite your internal reprimanding.

—

"Food's here."

Jake's voice woke you. Well, that and the smell of piping hot pizza. You hadn't realized you'd fallen asleep, hadn't even realized you'd been tired. But needing to cry often did that: lulled you into a frustrated slumber of avoidance.

"God, that smells so good," you commented, stretching and sitting up to make room for him on your couch as he set the large box down on the coffee table.

"I know. Way better than whatever you were cooking." He joked as he took a seat next to you, fiddling with the TV remote while you threw open the box and pulled out a piece.

"Be nice, I'm still hangry," you mumbled as you began eating in a way that betrayed how much the cheese was burning your tongue.

"I mean it," he added, dipping his head a little to see your face better. "You can yell at me if it would be cathartic."

There was a sincerity behind his eyes that warmed you. He always was too sweet to you, to do this so consistently. And surely he was busy some of those times. Never too busy for you though, it seemed. Because he always showed up.

Why do you always show up?

"Wouldn't be the same," you shrugged, abandoning the slice of pizza you had grabbed on a free space of the box as you decided to let it cool a bit more before you burned the rest of your mouth.

You felt his fingertips suddenly brush against your skin as he pushed hair behind your ear almost absentmindedly. And meeting his eyes, you saw more of that sincerity. But this time, your eyes plunged down to his lips, a movement that surely didn't go unnoticed as his followed suit. And you suddenly felt nervous under his gaze, anticipating what he might do as a result of that look and unsure of what that would mean to you.

"Jake…I don't know how much I'm in the mood for date night."

That's not true.

It was an easy way to put a swift end to the tension and had him dropping his hand back into his lap with a soft smile that didn't look the least bit wounded.

Maybe he's just good at hiding it.

"That's fine. I don't have to be Josh tonight. I can be whoever you want me to be."

You knew deep down what you wanted him to be that night but you didn't let yourself acknowledge it. You couldn't. Not before dinner, anyway.

"Can you be my friend right now?" you asked instead, ignoring how hot you suddenly felt and how good the exposed skin on his chest suddenly looked.

His smile widened a tinge as he caught the path of your eyes again but he didn't acknowledge it.

"Easiest thing in the world," he said in a soft voice, sitting back further as if to welcome whatever you were about to lay at his feet.

You sighed and turned your eyes toward the pizza box as you thought about it, the fact that Josh wasn't there and Jake was.

"I'm so proud of you all but it's getting harder. Undeniably. And I just don't see him ever having the time for me. At least not more than he does now. And even now, the time he has for me is…dwindling."

"Have you told him this?"

"No," you admitted. "Not lately and not in those words. With the tour ramping up and having him home this week, I was trying not to give him anything to dwell on on the road. No distractions."

Maybe that was stupid but you hated the idea of him being far away and worried about your relationship. You hated the idea of him being onstage and not being able to fully enjoy it, worried about you the entire time.

"You're part of his life, not a distraction. If he wants to make this work, he'll have to find a better balance. I think he'd understand that if you just talked to him."

Maybe he couldn't make up for the lost time. Or maybe you'd grown too attached to what seemed to always be right in front of you, like you'd been an afterthought for too long.

That's not fair to Josh and you know it.

"Aren't you worried he's gonna stop sending you?" You shot Jake a smile that masked the thoughts you'd begun to spin in your mind. But he only shook his head and sighed heavily.

"He knows I'm not the answer," he said candidly.

You thought about that for a moment before meeting his gaze again and asking the obvious.

"Then why does he keep sending you?"

"Because I'm always free," he suddenly smiled, masking his own thoughts he'd begun to spin in his mind, surely.

You couldn't stop your own smile, even knowing it wasn't the truth.

He was quiet a moment, turning away to face the TV you'd both been ignoring and the pizza that was cooling as he seemed to lose himself in thought. But god, he looked pretty that way. You hated to admit it but he did. He was a good listener and easy to listen to. He'd been your sounding board for the past few months on the date nights he'd filled in for, helping you finish off bottles of wine and working through a list of classic movies one or both of you had never seen. He'd eaten countless dishes meant for you and Josh and even learned the card game you had meant to teach Josh, although he was a much poorer sport than his twin would have been. But still, it had made you laugh watching him try to cheat using the reflection of the wine glass sitting in front of you and throwing the cards all over the table when he'd been caught. He'd only done it because you'd been crying when he had arrived and he was determined to take your mind off the obvious. And then there were the flowers, which were becoming a more common occurrence…

"Did you talk about it the first time after I left?"

You felt like you were pulled out of a reenactment of a dream but you knew without asking what he was referring to.

The first time. When you said filthy things to me and I loved it.

"No. It didn't feel like we needed to. We just woke up and went about our day together."

Like nothing even happened.

"Maybe that's why he sends me," Jake suggested. "He isn't worried about it."

You were unsure what to make of it and even more unsure of what to say. So instead, you nodded silently and reached for your pizza, deep in thought and ignoring whatever Jake put on the TV despite your eyes fixing to it. And you ate mindlessly for what felt like a long moment before you finally spoke again, a half-baked sentiment that was more formed out of anger and frustration than anything else.

"I'm not dating you though, I'm dating him. He could act like it."

Jake didn't turn to you.

"Is this your way of telling me you want me to leave?"

"No. It's better than being alone."

"Well, I'd hardly call that a raving review," he laughed, seeming to fake hurt that was probably somewhat real.

"It is nice of you to do this," you quickly added, getting a glimpse of how it had sounded without.

"I don't mind," he answered before taking a bite of pizza that effectively jumbled his words as he continued speaking. "Not in the slightest."

"Well, to be fair, you got to fuck me so no, I imagine you don't mind."

He looked somewhat shocked as he tried to swallow his bite rather than choke, mumbling out a, "Jesus-", that you didn't let him finish.

"Am I wrong?"

"I don't keep coming over here with my hopes up if that's what you're implying."

Would it be so bad if you did?

"You don't think about it?" you questioned, feeling emboldened by God knew what and hoping, praying even, that you liked his answer, especially given how much you'd thought about it as of late.

Fucking annoying, honestly. He could have at least done me a favor and been bad in bed. Maybe that would have made things easier.

"Of course I think about it," he admitted, "I think about it all the fucking time. It's indecent how much I think about it."

That brought a smile to your face, one that you couldn't stifle even if you tried.

"But I'm happy with whatever you're happy with," he continued. "I don't come over here expecting anything. I'll take whatever you want to give me, whatever that means for you. I told you, I'm whoever you want me to be and that, tonight, is friend."

I don't want you to just be my friend tonight.

You played with the hem of the oversized t-shirt you were wearing, suddenly far less hungry than you had been as you thought about what he was saying and how he had made you feel over the past few months.

And why does he always have to look so fucking good?

"What if I didn't want it to just be friend?" you asked hesitantly, unsure of how he'd respond.

It suddenly felt more dire that he could find a way to make that work too, as easily as he could the friend part.

God, you were nervous.

"Then I'd say can you at least let me finish my pizza before you jump me? Geez," he joked, presumably not taking you seriously.

So you tried again.

"I mean after," you responded with a much more serious look, "when this horrible movie you put on thinking I wouldn't notice is over and the leftover pizza is cold and he still isn't here. What will you be then?"

He leaned forward to discard his crust back in the box and brush off his hands before he drew in a long breath, fuel for the thought he was trying to carefully voice.

"After," he began slowly, "when the movie is over and the leftover pizza goes cold…and Josh still isn't here…" He paused to look at you, something cryptic written in his features that you wished you could shake out of him. You needed his thoughts and his honesty to help you mitigate yours. You felt far too alone in your desires at the moment, the one person who never seemed to hold back finally doing just that. "I'll walk you to your room and I'll tuck you in. And if you ask me to stay, I'll stay. Because I'm your friend."

You gave him an understanding nod and a quiet, "Okay," before turning back to the pizza.

—

You couldn't even say what the movie was about. It was a documentary that had started about aliens but somehow had drifted well into pirate territory in a confusing arc that you clearly hadn't followed. To be fair, you were watching without seeing, hearing without listening, enraptured in a swirl of self-destructive thoughts that actually weren't so self-destructive but more left a path of destruction in their wake. And just as predicted, hands stopped reaching for slices of pizza and cheese stopped boiling over the edges as the air took it to its chilly grave. The movie somehow came to a meaningful conclusion that only really meant something to you because credits rolled across the screen. And Josh still wasn't there.

"You look tired," Jake commented after a moment of sitting in darkness next to you, the only light being the tiny white names scrolling across the screen.

God, how many people could it have possibly taken to make that?

"I could sleep," you lied. Well, maybe you could sleep but that wasn't what you intended to do.

Nonetheless, he nodded and stood silently, taking the pizza box to the kitchen and returning to take your hand and lead you from the couch to your bedroom, implication suddenly heavy in the air as he led.

He said nothing as he stood in the doorway letting you walk past him into the room, nothing as you approached your bed before turning back to face him, nothing as you waited for a move he clearly wasn't going to make on his own.

"I think about it too, you know. The first time…" You trailed off without further explanation, your hands suddenly fiddling with the hem of your oversized shirt as you hoped it incited some action on his part.

Jake was silent for a beat before understanding washed over his face and he nodded quickly.

"I’m flattered," was all he said with a soft, almost shy smile as he finally crossed the room to your bed to pull down the comforter, turning expectantly, waiting for you to get in.

He wasn't typically one to be humble but there was something endearing about the rosy hue growing brighter on his cheeks. It almost reminded you of Josh to be honest. And you weren't sure if that made it worse given how much you wanted him.

Without any warning, instead of climbing into bed as he'd expected you to do, you closed the space between you and pressed your lips to his jaw, reveling in the sound of a sudden hushed inhale as he instinctively leaned into the feeling. But his words, hushed and quiet as he spoke them as if he were hoping you wouldn't hear, betrayed the struggle in his mind that was much less willing than his body.

"I think this is a bad idea…" he trailed off quietly as he tilted his chin ever so slightly to let your lips continue their attack along his jaw. And when he heard no response from you, you felt his Adam's apple bob with a gulp as he mustered up the strength to speak again. "I know that you're upset-"

"You said he wasn't worried," you interjected quickly as your mouth moved to his neck where you felt goosebumps prickling against your lips and tongue. You continued your movements as your hands weaved their way into his linen shirt, only to be met by his hands grasping your biceps as if he were going to stop you but the fight had evaded him before he could.

"I know what I said-"

"I just want to feel you," you said finally, pulling your face away to look him in the eyes and put your desperation on display for him.

He was better than being alone. Far better. And fuck, you wanted him.

He seemed to give in almost immediately as his lips found yours more earnestly, losing himself finally in the way you tasted. It felt like a relief to have his hands on you, any hands really as the nights you'd spent alone had grown longer.

"This is the last time," he murmured against your lips as his hands traveled up under your baggy t-shirt to explore the smooth skin that lay beneath.

You agreed with a half-hearted hum on your lips as your own hands traversed over the thin material of his shirt, slipping downward in search of the belt he always wore. You worked quickly to pull it off, setting your hands to work on the button and zipper as it clamored to the floor.

"I mean it," he mumbled again, never really pulling his mouth from yours entirely.

His hands were warm on your skin and did their best to distract from what he was saying, words you'd process later when your mind was no longer numb and flooded with him alone. If there was a line you were crossing, you'd see it in the morning when you woke, drawn perfectly on the floor and smudged only where you and Jake had danced across it.

"Yes, sir," you whispered that time, pulling back ever so slightly to bat your lashes up at him, only to be greeted with an eye roll in return. But a smile adorned his lips nonetheless.

"Gonna get me in trouble," he whispered back as he shook his head, the rosiness of his cheeks growing hotter and redder thanks to your mouth and hands on him, now prying his shirt from his body to send it floating to the floor.

He pushed into you again, squishing any space between you so you sent your arms circling his shoulders instead. He held you closely too, hands pulling you in at your waist impossibly closer even while he walked you backward toward the edge of your bed. You felt magnetized to him, utterly incapable of prying yourself from him even as the thought of Josh's impending arrival swirled somewhere in the back of your mind.

Jake started with the hem of your leggings, tucking his fingers in and doing his best to work them down your legs without his mouth so much as leaving yours. And when the material moved beyond his reach, he helped you shimmy them down the rest of the way and step out of them. And the moment your legs were freed, he spun the two of you so he could take a seat on the edge of your bed and pulled you into his lap.

Pulling his face away from yours finally and letting his hands drop to his jeans to finish the work you had started, he spoke again in a much more serious voice, gravelly and grave.

"You're going to ride me. Take exactly what you want from me."

It was a little glimpse of the Jake he had been the first time he had filled in for date night. And it was exactly what you hadn't realized you were missing.

"Can you do that for me?" he asked as he freed himself and coaxed you into a hover over him with one hand at your hip while the other pulled your panties to the side.

You were speechless, his eyes boring into yours and his hands guiding you even without your answer until the head of his cock brushed your entrance. Your eyes watered with anticipation, every muscle in your body tense as you waited to feel him push inside. And not a single word formed on your tongue or a single thought in your mind.

"Yeah, I think you can," he answered for you with a smirk on his lips and his hand wrapped around himself, already guiding it into you. "And I'm gonna talk you through it."

With his arm snaked around your waist, he brought you down onto his cock in one swift motion, earning a sharp gasp from you as he filled you, a sudden stretch that felt somehow more delicious than it had the first time. Maybe because you knew what you had been missing out on this time around.

"Fuck, I missed you," you breathed, your eyes falling shut for a moment while your thighs warmed against his and the familiar sting of the stretch began to turn to pleasure.

His hands moved to your hips, finding the skin just under the material of the oversized shirt you still wore and digging into the skin there, not so hard so as to leave bruises but hard enough to keep you steady as you leaned forward to drop your forehead against his shoulder, suddenly overtaken by feelings you didn't quite understand.

He felt the shift, something akin to desperate to have him turned desperate to keep him. He felt it in your hot breath against his neck, felt it in the heat radiating from every point on your body, felt it in the unsteady beat of breaths you were taking, almost overtaken by the fierce pounding of your heart as desire and hurt and guilt all fought to take hold of your body. But he didn't retreat from what he felt, only held you that much tighter.

"Are you still with me?" he asked softly, just above a whisper against the shell of your ear, a brief pause from the man he seemed to become when in your bedroom.

You were with him. Maybe a little too with him, you realized. Josh had sent his brother to the rescue so many times, you were beginning to want to be rescued.

"I'm with you," was all you answered back, saving him from your inner turmoil in hopes he'd let you keep going through it.

He seemed keen to let you, too. Or maybe keen to let himself was more accurate. Regardless, wherever your mind had begun to drift, you were suddenly snapped back into place within his arms as he breathed out a rather unfair, "Good girl," and pulled your hips forward once, sliding you easily along his cock thanks to the slick that had been building since the moment you had seen him standing there at your front door. Shamelessly.

"Shit, Jake," you hissed as searing hot pleasure seeped into your body the longer you warmed around him. It incited you to move your hips, slowly at first, searching for that delicious push and pull and stretch of him inside you that felt like a too-distant memory.

He dipped one arm around your waist as his other curled up over your back to bury his hand in your hair, keeping your forehead pressed into his skin as he mumbled words of encouragement. Not that you needed encouraging. His cock, thick and hot inside of you was certainly encouragement enough.

"Ride it, just like that," he murmured as your hips worked up into a steady rhythm. "Just like that, that's it."

You clung to him as you did, clung to the feeling of being full, of his arms holding you. And it only spurred you on, your movements quickening their pace as you moved around him and the sound of skin on skin and both of your heavy breathing began to fill the room. Gentle curses whispered in nothing but a breath betrayed his always cool and casual demeanor and only seemed to fuel the feeling growing hot in your abdomen.

You slid easily along his cock, up and down, taking him fully each time before retreating. His arms helped you move too, encouraging your pace and squeezing you hard like you were grounding him even though you were certain it was the other way around.

"You're so fucking perfect like this," he whispered against your hair, the words punctuated by a noise you'd never quite heard him make, a shameless moan that you suddenly felt desperate to hear again. But having let the sound slip, he seemed to regain his control as he used his grip in your hair to pull your face back to meet his eyes. They were glassy, almost glazed over with euphoria, his lips parted as he struggled and failed to breath evenly, a thin sheen of sweat forming on his forehead and matting his hair to it. He was breathtaking, as usual.

"Jesus fuck, Jake," you breathed, your voice hitching in your throat as the words turned into a pathetic noise.

"Yeah? Tell me all about it," he asked in a breathy, hushed voice like it was a secret meant only for the two of you. "Did you miss me, beautiful? Does that feel as good as you remember?"

Better.

You gave him a desperate nod, answering all and none of his questions at once, your brows furrowed and bottom lip sucked between your teeth and the tension building within you clearly visible on your face.

He nodded back with a whisper of a smirk on his lips, breathless as he was himself. "Yeah, poor thing missed my cock, didn’t she? Tell me how good I feel," he urged.

"Fuck, Jake, you feel so good," you practically chanted, stealing a moment to gaze down at where the two of you connected while something about blurred lines fizzled out of view in the back of your mind. "So fucking good."

Like you belong here with me.

A groan ripped its way through his chest as his hips began lifting slightly to meet each of your downward motions, driving his cock into your sensitive spot with each thrust and only making you want to ride him that much harder despite the burn creeping up into your knees.

"You take it so well for me, such a fucking good girl," he praised you through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. "Bouncing on it like you were fucking made for it, that's my pretty girl."

You reveled in his words and the way they heightened the pleasure of his cock pressing against that sweet spot inside of you on each inward thrust, pushing you closer and closer to your own orgasm.

He could see the impending release in your eyes, too, given the way he suddenly gripped you harder and brought his mouth close to your ear to whisper to you his words of encouragement, using one hand splayed flat against the bed to hold you both up. "I know you want to come. Let it go for me, I'll talk you through it just like I promised. I've got you, baby."

Fuck.

"God, Jake," you moaned against his throat, fighting through the strain of your muscles to ride him harder, to take him deeper and faster, wet noises now echoing obscenely through the room.

"Yeah, just like that, let it go," he urged in what was something like half-coherent words, half-moan. "I want you to come all over my cock. Make a mess of me like you're so good at doing." And then a light, "Fuck," after meant only for you.

You were close but it threatened to tumble back downward without reaching its peak, a mental block that you felt you were suddenly fighting, desperately trying to push through before you lost it altogether. But Jake's voice suddenly came softer, finding you in your struggle and bringing you back up to the surface.

"Just relax, let it happen," he coaxed as he took your jaw in his hand to direct your eyes to his, warm and inviting and safe. "I've got you, I'm with you. Just let me feel you."

Fuck.

With his words, you were done for. You felt it ripple through you lightly at first, quickly growing more intense as you pushed your body through it, spurred on by his continued movements matching yours. Your eyes struggled to stay open as it washed through you but watching you and, in turn, you watching him, seemed to push his own orgasm along. His own face began to show the control that was quickly evading him.

Suddenly he was flipping you onto your back, your bodies still connected, and driving into you as his name spilled from your mouth over and over again. Hiking your leg up over his shoulder, he pushed himself over the edge and you along with him for a second time, his hand still wrapped beneath your jaw but his forehead now falling against your sternum as he basked in it and fucked you both through it.

You each came down slowly, neither of you moving from your place where your arms still held one another. If reality was that he had to leave your arms, you didn't want to face it. But finally, with a sigh, Jake withdrew and pulled his exhausted self from your grasp to grab a towel and clean you up, cleaning himself up shortly after.

You maneuvered into the warm embrace of your comforter to watch him move about the room, collecting his shirt and belt and redressing silently before he crossed back over to you. But this time, he didn't join you under the covers. Instead he stood beside you and let his hand cradle your cheek for a moment, looking like he was memorizing your fucked out look. Or just all the little details he had missed.

"You should get some sleep," he said quietly, looking almost forlorn.

"I don't want you to go," you argued immediately, knowing his next steps would either carry him out the door or bring him to your side.

But he only shook his head, much to your disappointment.

"You said you would stay if I asked."

Maybe that was mean to throw at him but he had said it and you weren't really in a good place to be abandoned by another of the Kiszka brothers.

He swallowed hard and let his thumb swipe gently along your jaw. He looked…remorseful.

"Josh will be home soon. I think the two of you should talk. And I don't think I should be here when he gets here."

With only a quick kiss pressed to your forehead, he was out the door without another glance your direction before you had more time to protest, quietly padding through the home to collect his things. It wasn't until you heard the front door shut that you felt truly alone in your own home, wondering when Josh would arrive. And you felt tears well up in your chest and begin to spill from your eyes.

[loving-jack-kelly]

javid fic told through the notes they leave each other before they know each other and while they get to know each other through notes when they both work at the same place where there's lockers or cubbies or something similar and they both choose the same one every time. night shift davey leaving notes for the person who keeps leaving napkin drawings from lunch break behind and davey thinks they're charming. day shift jack leaving notes for the person who's forgotten tupperware with the remains of clearly lovingly home-cooked meals and baked goods behind.

they've passed each other coming in and out a million times without knowing they're the ones leaving notes for each other. it becomes an almost daily thing, a silly but fun tradition to spend the last five minutes of a shift writing a silly joke or doodling something dumb on a receipt scrap. they both start building up the image of who they're talking to.

davey sees the hasty but obviously skilled sketches, the bodega receipts for coffee with too much cream and sugar, the wrappers of junk food and sometimes crumbs that get dropped and forgotten in the far back of the little locker they share and paints this picture of somebody who's always in a rush, somebody who has too much of a sweet tooth, somebody who must practice their art more than he pretends to in the little cartoons they leave behind. and jack sees the beat-up old reuseable water bottle that gets forgotten at least once a week, the college marching band sweatshirt that sometimes stays hung on the little hook, the rare receipt left behind showing what he got to eat minutes before clocking in for a long night, and gets this idea of a person who's always in a little bit of a rush, maybe they play trumpet or maybe it's something a little stranger like trombone or even glockenspiel, somebody who either tries way harder than jack at writing the notes or is just a naturally gifted writer and communicator.

maybe it goes on like this for a long time, until one of them comes in to a special two week's notice when the other is moving on to something new. maybe jack confesses he's been in night classes to be a social worker for the last two years and was only working this slightly-above-shitty job to pay for it. or maybe it's only a few months and it's davey letting his locker buddy know that he finally got a job in the field his degree is in and he starts in a few weeks. and it's been a joke, this whole time, that they never sign their names. it's locker buddy or night shift or a jokingly passive aggressive name derived from whatever got left behind that day, so when the notes stop, they both suddenly realize that this friendship they've built is just kind of..over. they don't know enough about each other to track each other down (and neither of them even thinks to ask around other coworkers about somebody on a different shift who just left the job because they're just a little bit stupid). so they just continue on, the one left behind missing the notes every time they come into work and the one who moved on finds it a little lonely, having their own space and not seeing the tiny pieces of life somebody else leaves behind.

maybe they find each other again after a while. and it's another random thing. they match on tinder or jack buys something off of davey on facebook marketplace or davey bumps into jack and spills coffee on him and they get to talking because that's the way jack is and davey is immediately charmed by him and when it clicks why they feel like they know each other it's delightful and funny and that's when things start for real.

[writingdungeon-inactive]

E and X and L for Sam stardew, thanks!!

Oh Sam... He's so cute, needed some sweetness today, so thank you.

E - Emotions: Sam has no issues showing you his emotions; he's just an emotional guy, and he's perfectly okay with that. He wears his heart on his sleeve without any hesitation. If you cut your hand, he's probably crying with you. If you slam your finger in the door, he'll pretend to beat up the door. His emotions are his way of showing how much he cares. His reactions, though sometimes exaggerated, come from a place of genuine concern and a deep desire to see you happy. —

Sitting on the couch, you rested your chin in the palm of your hand, watching the movie. You had seen it before, but surprisingly, Sam hadn't. You felt a pang of guilt making him watch this beautiful movie about a man and his dog, knowing how it ended. The film had tugged at your heartstrings the first time, and you knew it would be no different for Sam.

You glanced over at Sam, who was happily petting your dog, oblivious to the emotional rollercoaster that awaited him. The serene expression on his face made you hesitate, biting your lip as you wondered if you should have warned him about Marley and Me.

As the movie drew to a close, Sam was now curled up in your arms, holding your dog close, tears streaming down his face. His sobs grew louder, and he clung to your dog as if trying to shield him from the inevitable fate that befell Marley.

“Farmer!” he cried into your dog, his voice breaking with emotion. You gently stroked his back, feeling his body shake with each sob. “I know, I know, I'm sorry, baby…” you cooed, trying to hold back a smile while soothing him. “You have your baby right here.” You gently stroked your puzzled-looking dog's head, chuckling softly.

Sam's grip tightened around the dog's fur, his tears soaking into the soft coat. “It’s John Wick all over again!” he sobbed, burying his face in the dog's neck.

L - Love: Baby boi is a sweet bean. He’s bringing you flowers with his eyes almost shut and nose dripping because he is in fact still allergic, but he does it anyway because he loves seeing your eyes light up. He loves loving you so much, and it shows with every gesture and in every sincere smile he sends your way. Whether it's surprising you with your favorite snacks, or simply being there to listen when you need to talk, Baby boi's heart is always in the right place, overflowing with love and affection for you. —

Hearing footsteps running towards you while you were in the field, you looked up seeing Sam sprinting to you, holding a Tupperware container. You lowered your scythe and wiped your brow of sweat. "What's up, Sammy?" you asked as he approached, his excitement palpable. 

"Mom helped me bake some cookies!" he panted excitedly, thrusting the container into your hands. "Ohh, so they aren't burnt this time?" you teased, chuckling at his embarrassed face. Opening the container, you blinked a few times before bursting into laughter. "Got a little hungry, baby?" you asked, trying to stop the fit of laughter.

"What! No!" Sam's mouth dropped open in shock as he looked into the Tupperware. Each cookie had a single bite taken out of it, leaving them in a comical state. "VINCENT!" Sam yelled, his voice a mix of frustration and a whine, realizing his younger brother had struck again. His exasperation was evident as he held his head low.

You couldn't help but laugh at the situation, tears starting to build as the image of Vincent sneaking bites out of every cookie was too funny to ignore. "Well, at least he has good taste," you said, giving Sam a sympathetic peck on the cheek.

"But they were for you…" Sam looked up at you, pouting. "Mom said you could taste love... I wanted you to taste how much I love you."

You smiled warmly, feeling a rush of affection for the earnestness in his voice. "How about we eat around the cookie monster bites?" you offered, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Vincent might have taken a few nibbles, but that doesn't change how much love you put into these cookies."

Sam nodded, a small smile breaking through his initial disappointment. "Yeah... Thanks, Farmer."

X - XOXO: Can you walk with someone clinging to you? No? Well, you better learn fast. One of his primary love languages is physical touch. He's constantly holding your hand, intertwining your fingers with his own. Whether you're playing rounds of pool together or sharing a quiet moment in bed, he's always stealing kisses in between. He does respect your need for space, but when his energy is running low, he's searching for his charging port, seeking comfort from you. —

Walking into the Saloon, you smiled softly, the dimly lit bar already beginning to fill with its regulars. The air was thick with laughter and animated conversations, blending seamlessly with the occasional clinks and bangs emanating from the gaming room. Glancing towards the room, your eyes caught Sam, deeply engrossed in a game of Prairie King.

"Come on… Come on… Fuck!" Sam groaned, frustration evident as he leaned his head against the staticky tube screen. He had a determined look on his face. "Just one win…" His whisper sounded almost like a plea to the gaming gods.

Stepping quietly behind Sam, you observed his concentration, the glow of the arcade machine reflecting in his eyes. Gently, you wrapped your arms around his waist, leaning in to see the screen over his shoulder. "Come on, Sammy, you've got this," you encouraged softly, planting a tender kiss on the base of his neck.

“Farmer.” Sam jumped slightly at the sound of your voice, turning his head to meet your gaze. “Yeah, I got this,” he reassured himself, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he relaxed into your embrace.

After a few tense moments, you felt Sam's hands jerk up in the air, a triumphant shout escaping his lips. “YES!” he cried, spinning around in your hold and pulling you into a deep kiss and embrace. “I did it!” His joyous exclamation filled the room. “I did it, I did it!” Sam's chant was playful and light as he danced slightly in place, still holding you tightly in his arms.

Both of you laughed together, reveling in Sam's victory and the infectious joy. “Did what?” Abigail's voice cut through the happy cheering, her playful tone carrying a hint of curiosity as she approached, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. Sam looked at Abigail giving her puppy eyes. “Let me stay at the top just for tonight?” he pleaded, pressing his palms together in a mock plea.

[silverflqmes]

໒⦂ 𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐈’𝐌 𝐓𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆.

synopsis. you’ve been having a hard week with your studies, so hajime has taken it upon himself to lighten the load a bit, even if his actions are minimal.

genre. comfort + fluff

tw. discussion of bad eating habits, mentions of starvation and codependency.

for @melukonova <3

hajime iwaizumi x gn!reader.

⌗ the last thing hajime likes to see is you blue. it just hurts his soul to see you distressed and under pressure like you have been as of late.

⌗ so when you’re not taking care of yourself, that’s his cue to step in and make sure you’re getting your daily needs fulfilled, that way they aren’t neglected in a way that can get you sick.. which is the last thing you need.

⌗ when he sees your water bottle or sippy cup empty ( i have a starbucks venti sized one bc ppl often say it encourages you to drink when a straw is in sight, so i use that even if i have to refill it a few times ), he’ll take it ( you probably won’t notice anyway ) and fill it back up for you.

⌗ haven’t been eating enough or depriving yourself until you finish that one assignment / problem you’ve been stuck on? this is your reminder to eat or he’s bringing you to the kitchen because he cooked you a gourmet meal with all the minerals you need to keep you going. do not deprive yourself of food! you need your energy.

⌗ can’t finish it? that’s okay. you eat what you can, even if it’s just a couple bites — so long as you eat, he’s happy! he made or brought it just for you with your needs in mind to be able to work as effectively as you can without forcing your body through it. and if you’re worried about wasting food if you didn’t finish, don’t worry, he’ll take them to stray cats and dogs.

⌗ tough time doing chores? that’s okay, he’s there through it all. even if he’s a voice on the phone or text messages, he’s there until you get through all of them.

⌗ words of encouragement? they might not be the usual ones you hear, but he’s got you covered.

⌗ if it gets too much and you really can’t handle the pressure, he’s rushing over to your doorstep, no questions asked.

⌗ when you open the door, he’s got his arms out already to hug you for as long as you need it.

⌗ and when you truly can’t take it anymore, he’s there to turn off the computer, close the textbooks and notes you left open, and takes you to the bathroom into a warm bath he prepared to wash your worries away before bed.

it’s after eight and you’re already brimming with anxiety. the last meal you had was that half-assed sandwich you threw together this morning before rushing out the door for school.

your stomach was growling, but you had to finish this assignment. it had been put off one too many times already — today was the due date, it had to be done if you wanted a good enough grade to satisfy yourself. even if that sadly meant denying yourself of your essential needs.

having had enough distractions for the day, you silenced your phone with do not disturb, in hopes of finishing your work faster.

unfortunately, you hadn’t considered the consequences of that.

headphones in, blaring your usual study playlists, you hadn’t noticed the knock on your door. hadn’t noticed the fresh air spill into your room from the crack in doorway, and hadn’t noticed your boyfriend in the doorframe.

a tupperware of takeout food in one hand and what looked to be a biodegradable dixie cup of tea in the other. yet he was still invisible.

it wasn’t until he placed the food down to squeeze your shoulders, that you finally acknowledged your his existence.

“oh- haji, i didn’t hear you come in..” you sighed in relief, relaxing your eyes as you removed your headphones to hear him properly. “what’re you doing home early? i thought you had work until late..”

the olive eyed male rose a brow before letting out a quiet hum. “they let me off early today so i got you your favorite and some peppermint tea.” he answered with a smile, averting his gaze to the screen before you. “still at it, i’m assuming?”

a small laugh left your lips. “still at it.” you confirmed, rubbing the building sleep out of your eyes. “got a lot due this week so i wanted to finish quickly to have more time for us this weekend.”

“of course,” he almost wanted to say, as it was expected — given it was your usual reasoning, and a decent argument. spare time was always good, however you deserved rest too, and it wasn’t like tomorrow wouldn’t be a possibility to finish the rest. “i get it.” he responded finally before kissing your temple. “although i think you’re due for a nice meal and some shuteye for working as hard as you have.” he finished tenderly, closing your notebook for you.

it made you whine a little when he did, as you were insistent on finishing, but the kisses and squeezes on your shoulders had you giving in.

you supposed a small change of plans wouldn’t hurt too much.

and so he pushed the container in front of you, sliding the tea closer before pulling up a stool you normally piled textbooks on. perhaps he emptied it while you weren’t looking.

with a soft exhale, and perhaps the growl of your stomach, you pried the lid off, basking in the tempered steam and smell. hajime just knew you too well.

your face heated a little at the thought as you leaned in close with your chopsticks, muttering a soft word of thanks before digging in.

iwaizumi, having eaten already, simply kept you company, rubbing your back gently before leaning in to whisper. “you did amazing today, i’m proud of you.” a warm smile. “don’t forget that.”

notes. hi sky, little late but i tried to write this as quick as i could for you since it felt like an emergency request by the time frame and wording</3 anyway i hope this helps and that you feel better mami, be sure to take care of yourself when you study or i’m sending BALD iwa. let this be your warning because it’s important to eat and drink water and have sufficient rest while studying, cuz how else are you gonna remember😐

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

[annaphoenix1994]

Welcome to the World - 1

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The following morning, Kiera awoke with the beginning of intense contractions. Though they were over a few minutes apart, Simon began to grow more and more nervous as it slowly consumed him that he was soon to meet his son and daughter for the first time. "Sleep okay, love?" He asked as he entered their bedroom with a bowl of chicken noodle soup he had made for her. He smiled at her obvious glow, the way her hair framed her round face as she was sat upright in their bed, the white sheet concealing her legs and her robe still clung to her shoulders. I'm so fucking lucky. 

"Somewhat," She shook her head, smiling at him as he entered the room, setting the bowl on the side table before getting a pillow to sit on her lap so she could eat in bed. "Thank you, babe." 

"Are you comfortable?" 

She nodded, leaning her head against his lips as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. He frowned as she tried to eat, not able to eat the entire bowl even though it was probably the best chicken soup she had ever had. Sorry, mom, but Simon makes really good soup.

Contractions were now less than five minutes apart and Kiera began to grow nervous. "Babe, I think we need to start getting ready." 

"Is-Is it happening?" 

"I think so," She sighed, pressing her hand against the side of her belly. "Will you help me take a shower?" 

"Of course. How far apart are your contractions?" 

"About four minutes, but they're not bad contractions and that worries me. They feel like period cramps. What if it's like second stage or something? Hell, I don't know." 

"It's alright, love," He assured her, picking up her phone to look at the app she had been keeping track of her contractions on, seeing that they were averaging at least every three minutes and thirty-eight seconds. "May just be an early warning to get to a hospital before they get worse." 

"I hope so. They're just not hunched over and taking me to my knees bad." 

His adrenaline was pumping at this point, noticing how his hands were subtly shaking as he took the bowl from her, rushing it into the kitchen and putting the leftover soup into a Tupperware bowl and setting it in the fridge in what he felt was record time before he made his way back to the bedroom, offering his hand for her to grab as he assisted her out of the bed, Kimber sitting at Kiera's feet, nearly tripping on her on her way to the bathroom. "God, my ankles are huge!" 

"You'll miss them," He poked. "Those were your all-access pass to unlimited foot rubs." 

"Oh, so that's why you always offered foot rubs even before I was pregnant?" 

"You know you'll always get them without asking," He shrugged, reaching towards the tub to turn on the shower head before helping her untie her robe. "I think this is going to happen today," He smiled with excitement. "You're glowing more than you have before." 

"I'm so nervous." 

"Me too, love, but you've got this. Already mum of the year." He assured her, letting her grasp his hand as she stepped over the side of the bathtub, letting the warm water cage her shoulders as she refrained from washing her hair to save time, Simon keeping a close eye on her as she began to suffer through another contraction, leaning against the shower wall and shifting her body to where the water was running against the small of her back - a desperate attempt to relieve any type of discomfort. 

"Can you mark another contraction on my phone?" She panted, Simon doing as requested and moving to the countertop where her phone sat, marking another contraction on her app, frowning at having to see her in discomfort with nothing he could do to stop it, only able to provide a soft hand and encouraging words to get her through it. This is going to kill me watching her go through so much pain.

That contraction lasted for more than a minute, Simon taking the loofa from her hand and scrubbing the soap along her back, careful with his gestures along her scars, afraid he would hurt her if he gave too much pressure. "I really think this is going to happen today." He grinned.

"You're so confident, babe." 

"I can tell by just looking at your bump that they've dropped." 

"I can definitely feel it. My hips are aching." 

Simon was her personal pit crew - helping her dry off with a second towel and rushing to grab the set of clothes she had set out days prior: a simple t-shirt, sweatpants, and a pair of her favorite Hey Dudes that she had to buy a size bigger to accommodate her swollen feet. As much as she didn't like how she looked in the "pajamas" she had picked out, Simon thought she was the cutest thing to walk in front of him. 

He walked closely behind her as they walked towards the front door of the house, Simon turning off the lights as he passed by before he took Kimber into his grasp, remembering that Eva was eager to keep an eye on the puppy for when the time came and Teeter offering to check on the cat every few hours as well as help take care of the puppy. "Hello?" Kiera's mother said from the other side of the phone, Kiera holding an excited grin on her face to tell her the news. 

"Can you come outside and get Kimber? We're on our way to the hospital-"

Eva shrieked in excitement, making both Kiera and Simon laugh, "R-Right now?! Oh, my goodness! Yes, I'm on my way!" 

"We're parked right outside the house-"

"I see you, sweetheart!" She laughed, ending the phone call as she sat her phone on the outside table, rushing down the stairs to meet Simon at the truck, Kimber in his arms as he stepped outside to meet Eva. She gave Simon a comforting hug, able to tell that he was anxious as he stood at the front of the truck, escorting her to the passenger side to see Kiera for the last stage of her pregnancy. He opened the passenger side door, grinning at Kiera as she and her mother shared an embrace as well as Kimber desperately trying to lick Kiera's cheek as she was still in Eva's arms. "You look so beautiful, honey," Eva whimpered, her cheek pressed against Kiera's as her free arm clutched around her shoulders. "Promise you'll call me when you need me?" 

"I will, momma," Kiera replied, fighting tears of her own. "I'll call you after I get settled at the hospital." 

"Having bad contractions?" 

"No, just uncomfortable right now, but they're less than five minutes apart." 

"You're definitely close!" She smiled, kissing Kiera's forehead. "I'll see you soon. I love you, honey." 

"I love you too, momma." 

She placed another kiss to Kiera's temple before turning to Simon, embracing him and frowning at how she felt him nearly trembling against her. "It'll be alright, honey," She assured him, rubbing her palm against the skin of his shoulder. "I love you. You'll be just fine. I think you're only shaking because you're ready to be a dad." 

"I think so too, but I'm not going to lie: I'm scared," He frowned, returning the hug. "I'm even afraid to drive her because I'm worried about someone running a red light." 

"It's okay to be scared, Simon, but it'll all be okay. Keep me updated when you can."

"I will," He nodded. "I love you too." 

»»-------¤-------««

Once at the hospital, Simon offered his arm to her to cling to as she leant against him as they walked across the parking lot to the hospital entrance, Kiera occasionally having to stop to catch her breath as her ankles felt as if they were on fire, aching with every step. He helped her sit in the nearby chair of the lobby before informing the receptionist as to why they were there. Within ten minutes, a nurse met Kiera in the lobby with a wheelchair, Simon walking behind the nurse with only one bag he had managed to get after he had parked the truck.

It was the bag that had all of her clothes and toiletries in it, knowing she'd either want a snack or a shower later in the day. 

Once she was settled in the room as well as changed into a hospital gown, Simon's hand couldn't keep away from rubbing her belly. "Looks like a beach ball under there, love." 

"Definitely feels like a rock," She giggled, sighing. "I feel like shit - like I've been wanting to throw up." 

"Well, you look really beautiful right now." 

"Thank you," She blushed, reaching towards him as he took a seat beside her. "Ever since we got here, this is so surreal. I thought I was ready, but I'm terrified." 

He nodded, grasping her hand and placing a delicate kiss to her knuckles, "Me too, love. I don't think I can handle seeing you in pain." 

She giggled, "You do know that when these contractions get worse, I'll probably blame you at some point, but don't take it to heart because I'm going to say shit I don't mean-" 

"Your mum warned me in advance," He chuckled, placing another kiss to her knuckles. "She told me you might say worse things than that, actually. Then it turned to a story time where she cursed your father out when having your brother. Something about him being nearly nine pounds when he came out." 

"He also had a cone head," She giggled. "She told me the same story too. Except when she was cussing out my dad, he was laughing because she rarely cusses and he said it was cute." 

"Your mum is one of the most precious people I've ever met. It would definitely catch me off guard if I heard her curse." 

"It's pretty funny when she does."

About ten minutes later, two nurses arrived in the room to prep Kiera with the heart monitors for the babies that wrapped around her belly as well as a heart monitor for herself complimented by an IV in the crease of her elbow. 

As the hours continued, Kiera began to grow more and more restless with her contractions beginning to get more intense. It broke Simon's heart to see her like this, trying his best to empathize with her, but he knew he couldn't compare any of his pain to hers. 

By hour six, Simon kept his sharp gaze on her as she was finally comfortable enough to sleep, sitting back in his chair next to her bed to find the time to call Soap to inform him that not only was it time for Kiera to have the babies, but that he needed to check on the cat. "Hope you know you're interrupting Big Chief, mate-"

"Shut up, Soap, fuckin' hell," He grumbled, irritated that Soap had begun laughing on the other line, knowing he struck Simon's nerve. Per usual. "Can you or Teeter check on Church?"

"Why aren't you home?" 

"Maybe because Kiera is in labor and we're at the hospital?" He scoffed sarcastically.

"Oh, shite!" He shouted, the phone being muffled by the sound of Soap moving with his phone in his grasp. "Teeter! Kiera's having a baby!" 

"Bout damn time!" She shouted from across the room. "Are they here yet? What's going on?!" 

"We've been here for about seven hours now. No babies yet," He sighed, frowning with anticipation. "The nurse told me she's going to come back and give her some Pitocin to help induce labor. Hopefully soon." 

"That's good news, L.T. We'll go and check on the cat. Where's the dog?" 

"Her mum is puppy-sitting. She's leaving her with her father and is on her way." 

"Why didn't you tell me when all of this was happening?" Soap poked. 

"It was need-to-know." 

"What if I needed to know?" 

"You'll know when they're here, how about that?" 

"So... are you going to give me the official title of being an uncle?" 

"Keep pushing your luck, Sergeant." 

"I'm just poking," He chuckled. "Looks like you've finally got a win, L.T." 

"I always win." 

"Yeah, in the battlefield. You winning in life is definitely new." 

"Ain't that the truth," He scoffed, turning his attention to another moan of discomfort as Kiera had woken up with another contraction, struggling to move onto her side in a desperate attempt to ease the pain. "Got to go. Call you later." 

Giving no time for Soap to respond, he hung up the phone, setting it on the nearby table to tend to her. The sound of the babies' heartbeats from the monitor had Simon's anxiousness at top-tier, glancing over every chance he got to see them again, thankful that they were still there. "I-I'm not ready, Simon." She panted, her eyes squeezed shut. 

"I don't think you have much of a choice right now, love," He sighed. "You've got this. You're more ready than you think." 

Another two hours went by and Kiera was still showing no signs in active labor. With contractions still roughly three minutes apart, a group of nurses piled in to administer Pitocin as well as break one of Kiera's waters manually to further along the process. 

As much as Kiera didn't like it, she obliged to not only letting them break her water, but for Simon to peer his curious eyes over the leg he was holding to watch them do it. He rubbed gentle circles on her bare knee for comfort as well as reassurance as he got to watch her water break, which was truly an amazing experience for him. You continue to amaze me every day, love. 

Kiera's mom watched from across the room, wanting to give Kiera space as well as standing back to let Simon have his moment with her - to be there for her like he vowed to be, even though he felt Eva had every right as much as him to be there. After all, she was her mother. She deserved to be there for her daughter in such a beautiful moment. 

"How're you feeling, sweetheart?" Eva smiled, approaching her bedside after the nurses had left to let the Pitocin kick in as well as administering a catheter. She fought tears as she leant over the bed to kiss Kiera's temple, the smell of her sweet and loving scent filling Kiera's nostrils. 

"Better, for now," She sighed. "I feel lighter after they did that." 

"I'd say so. There was a lot of fluid that came out." Simon commented. 

"I brought you some food," She smiled, reaching into her purse - tote - to reveal a bag of Chic-fil-A she had snuck in. Complementary with a bottle of Coke and Dr. Pepper from the vending machine on her way to Kiera's room. "Two chicken sandwiches and a large fry." She giggled. 

"I-I can't eat anything, mom." Kiera frowned. 

"Who said?" 

"The nurses?" 

"Well, I didn't hear it myself. A little bird told me you hadn't eaten since this morning and didn't eat all of it if I heard him right. I know those pretty eyes of yours are eyeballing this bag." She giggled, getting a chicken sandwich out for her and setting it on the tray next to her bed before handing the sandwich she had gotten for Simon to him.

"Might as well say it was Simon who told on me." Kiera chuckled, laying her head back as she felt another contraction on the horizon. 

"I didn't want to put him on the spot." Eva poked, handing Simon a bottle of Coke as she noted it to be a soda he had enjoyed, taking the seat on the opposite side of Kiera's bed to keep an eye on her daughter. 

"Know me so well." Simon chuckled, opening the sandwich.

"You're not too hard to figure out, honey. Besides, Kiera told me so much about you while you were gone and by the time you came home, I already knew you like one of my own." 

Home. 

A subtle word to come from Eva's mouth, yet it made him feel whole.

[haddonfieldwhore]

clandestine - will borgen

will borgen x younger!beniers! reader

summary: when visiting your brother for the holidays, you realize just how attractive his roommate is

warnings: ~ 6 year age gap, mention of past injury, a few uses of y/n, if you prefer you can read this as matty being like a brother rather than a biological sibling; just ignore a few words

word count: 3.6k words (i got carried away)

you shivered from the cold december wind as you knocked on the front door, smiling when a familiar face appeared as it opened.

“hey, you made it!” matty smiled as he stepped aside to let you inside his home. “it’s so good to see you,” he said, pulling you into a hug. it had been a few months since you had last seen him, and you were excited to be spending a few days at his place in seattle over the winter break.

“your hair is getting long,” you commented, looking at his dark hair that peeked out from under his baseball cap; so grown out that is had begun to look wavy. “and i think you’re taller than the last time i saw you,” you pouted. despite the fact that you were the same age, he had always been a few inches taller than you as kids. now, he stood a solid 6 inches over you, even without skates.

“mom always did say i was still growing,” he laughed.

“speaking of mom,” you laughed, reaching into your bag and pulling out a tupperware container of baking. “she sent some cookies for me to give you,” you presented the box to him, and he took it from your hands.

“thank you! i’ll make sure to text her and tell her you didn’t keep them for yourself,” he teased, and you slapped his shoulder.

“just for that i should have.” you rolled your eyes. the two of you were walking into the kitchen, when a tall brunette man with cinnamon coloured hair peeking out from underneath a beanie came down the stairs. you recognized him as one of matty’s teammates, and you were pretty sure his name was -

“will,” matty smiled at his housemate.

“did i hear someone say cookies?” he asked, his eyes bright as he noticed you standing there. “oh, hey. matty told me you’d be staying here for a few days,” he held his hand out for you to shake. “i’m will.”

“i think we met once at a practice, but hi, it’s nice to formally meet you,” you introduced yourself, trying to ignore the funny feeling in your stomach when your hands touched; the way his eyes quickly looked you up and down going unnoticed by both beniers siblings.

“and the cookies are for me, by the way,” matty teased, and will grabbed him playfully in a headlock, and the two kraken players tumbled to the living room. you sat down on the soft grey sofa facing the tv, and matty grabbed a nintendo switch controller.

“do you still think you can beat me at mariokart?” matty asked you, and you scoffed.

“i know i can,” you corrected, as he held up the game. you hadn’t played the most recent one that much, but you were sure you had enough practice with the previous ones to beat him; you always were better at the video game, but you hadn’t played in a while.

“you’re on. loser buys dinner?”

“deal,” you agreed. “are you in?” you asked will, who sat in the arm chair next to the couch.

“no, i’ll just watch,” he shook his head, and you shrugged it off with a smile.

“suit yourself.”

•

it was currently a very close game, you and matty fighting back and forth for the top spot on the leaderboard. it was down to this last race, and you were starting your final lap around the track.

“maybe you should spend more time practicing driving in real life, i think you’re better virtually,” you teased, and will laughed.

“damn,” he smiled, and matty shook his head.

“you’re just mad that i’m winning,” he smirked as his kart passed you.

“shut up,” you pouted, once again not noticing that will was watching you, rather than the tv.

you were about to lose, both of you nearing the finish line, when you felt the couch dip next to you, and you looked to your right in surprise. wills hands were over yours, his arm reaching around you to hold the controller as he got an item from the box and fired the green shell straight at matty, knocking him off the kart and driving your kart across the finish line.

“that’s cheating, you said you weren’t playing,” matty protested, and will chuckled, his breath hitting your ear from how close he was sitting, and you noticed he smelled faintly of vanilla and mint.

“i’m helping,” he challenged. the points were tallied up, confirming that you had won, and you cheered as matty tossed his controller down on defeat.

“i feel betrayed,” he held a hand on his heart jokingly. “i still think that outsider interference should be a disqualification, but a deal is a deal. there’s a great restaurant not far from here, but they only do takeout. i’ll go grab it if you guys don’t mind hanging out here without me?” he offered, and you nodded.

“we’ll live,” you teased. “thanks matty.”

“thanks man,” will patted him on the back as he walked by, before matty grabbed his things and slipped his shoes on, heading out the door with a wave.

“thanks, i owe you one,” you smiled at will as he set the controller down, leaning back against the couch cushions with his arm over the back of it.

“no problem. i didn’t want to listen to him brag if he won,” he joked, a cute smile on his face.

“i can’t even imagine,” you shook your head. “i don’t know how you live with him. i mean i had to but not by choice,” you laughed, and will could tell you weren’t serious. matty had been great to grow up with, all in all a very sweet older brother, and despite what you said, you did miss having him at home.

“he’s not that bad. plus, we’re on the road a lot of the time,” he took off his beanie to run a hand through his light brown hair, before returning the hat to its proper position. you cursed yourself for thinking that his hair looked really soft, and that part of you wished you could trace your fingers through it. “did he show you where the guest bedroom is?”

“no, i had just gotten here when you came downstairs,” you explained. will stood up from the couch, stretching his arms above his head with a slight groan. you tried not to stare as his fawn coloured hoodie rode up slightly, exposing the waistband of his boxers and a sliver of his skin, before he lowered his arms.

“come on, i’ll give you the house tour. hopefully he won’t be too mad that he doesn’t get to show you around himself,” you both laughed, and you grabbed your small suitcase from by the front door. you followed after him as he showed you the kitchen, which you had seen, followed by where matty’s room was, the hallway bathroom, and finally the guest room, which was -

“it’s right next to my room. so if you need anything, just knock,” he offered, and your heart skipped a beat.

“thanks, i appreciate it.” he just nodded in response. there was a comfortable silence for a moment as will leaned against the doorframe, his eyes trained on you as you wheeled your suitcase into the guest room, throwing your phone on the nightstand, before turning back towards him. as your eyes met his, he snapped out of it, clearing his throat softly and looking at the floor, and will hoped he wasn’t blushing.

“matty should be back soon, we can go wait in the kitchen,” he nodded his head in the direction of the staircase.

“okay,” you smiled, and he stepped aside to let you through the doorway.

“do you want something to drink?” he offered once you were back downstairs, opening the fridge to reveal not much inside. if you can imagine the fridge of a couple of college students (mostly soda, a few takeout leftovers; not a vegetable in sight), that is what you were looking at, but you supposed they ate out or ordered food most of the time.

“sure, thanks,” you nodded, looking at the options. “a grape soda if that’s okay.” he passed you the purple beverage, and you felt that same funny feeling in your stomach as his fingertips briefly brushed yours. i should not be feeling this way about your brothers teammate, you thought. you watched him as he reached in to the cupboard and got out plates for the three of you, and you noticed a large scar across his neck.

“can i ask a question?”

“how did i get the scar?” he smiled, turning his attention back to you, and you instantly felt bad.

“sorry - i’m shouldn’t have asked,” you apologized, but he just laughed softly.

“it’s okay, most people do. or sometimes they just stare at it and don’t say anything, which i think might be worse,” he said. “i got cut with a skate blade at hockey camp when i was 17,” he explained.

“wow - that’s a little…”

“terrifying?” he laughed. “yeah, it was.”

“how do you get back on the ice after something like that?” you asked, bewildered at how someone could want to keep playing after something so scary happening, but he just shrugged.

“i don’t know - i missed the game i guess. i’ve always loved hockey so the thought of not playing it again never really crossed my mind. it’s been almost 10 years since it happened, i kinda don’t think about it too much anymore,” he admitted, leaning on his elbows on the countertop. you did the math, deciding he was probably around 6 years older than you, and that shouldn’t have made your heart beat faster, but it did.

“well i don’t know what it’s worth, but i’m glad you’re okay.” you offered, still feeling bad for asking about it, even though he didn’t seem to be bothered by it.

“thank you. and besides, i’ve heard some girls dig scars, so maybe it’s not a total loss,” he laughed, that cute goofy smile spreading across his face again.

“i’m sure you do alright on your own,” you said, definitely having meant to think it, rather than speak it aloud. his eyes rows raised slightly before furrowing together in confusion, not sure that he’d heard you correctly. because if he had, that meant you found him attractive, and that idea only made the butterflies in his stomach worse every time he looked at you.

“what does-“

he was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, and you shifted your position on the barstool you sat on, not realizing how close towards eachother you had been leaning. will glanced at you one more time before walking over to help matty bring in the food, leaving you cringing at yourself in the kitchen.

“whatever that is, it smells amazing,” you commented, shaking off the embarrassment as matty and will carried the food into the kitchen, placing it on the island in front of you.

“i hope you guys weren’t too bored without me,” he joked, and you and will both looked at eachother, the shared glance going unnoticed by your brother.

“not at all,” will smiled.

•

you had successfully made it through the rest of the evening without sticking your foot in your mouth again. will thankfully hadn’t brought up what you’d said, especially not in front of matty, but that didn’t stop the two of you from stealing glances at eachother for the rest of the night. you had caught him only once, as you looked up and found his pale green eyes already looking your way. matty had thrown on a movie, but admittedly, you weren’t paying too much attention; instead the only thing on your mind was the kraken defenseman sitting in the chair next to you. you took note of the way his knee bounced occasionally, and wondered if he was nervous for some reason - though you doubted it.

the guys were playing call of duty downstairs, and you could hear their voices faintly as you got ready for bed, changing into some pyjama shorts and a tank top. you were sitting in bed scrolling through your phone, when you heard footsteps up the stairs, followed by a knock at the door.

“come in,” you answered, and matty peeked his head in.

“i’m heading to bed, you all good in here?” he asked, and you smiled.

“yeah, thanks matty,” you said, and you wished eachother good night, before he left to his room down the hall.

about fifteen minutes later, you heard will come upstairs, followed by the sound of his door shutting. you stuck your head out into the hall, checking to make sure matty’s light was off. it was, meaning he was likely asleep as you snuck downstairs before you could talk yourself out of it. you grabbed a small plate from the cupboard and opened the tupperware container you had brought. after placing two of the cookies on the plate, you shut it again before tiptoeing back up the stairs, pausing in front of wills bedroom.

taking a deep breath, and despite knowing it was probably a bad idea, you raised your hand to softly knock on the door. seconds ticked by, feeling like hours as you panicked, rethinking your decision to bother him.

“hey, everything okay?” he asked, a concerned look on his face as he opened the door. he had changed out of his hoodie into a t-shirt and some flannel pyjama pants, his beanie gone and his hair slightly messy as he ran his fingers through it. yeah, this was definitely a bad idea, you thought, wondering how he looked so good doing such a simple action.

“yeah- i uh - everything’s fine,” you stuttered, tripping over your words as you felt his eyes trail up your bare legs, and you realized how little you were wearing. “i owe you one for mariokart, so if matty asks you can blame me for these going missing,” you managed to say without stammering, holding the plate of cookies out to him. he smiled, taking the plate from you, and this time you swore he intentionally let his hand brush yours.

“thank you,” he walked over to the dresser and set them down, leaving you standing awkwardly in the doorway. “matty went to bed already?”

“yeah, his light is off,” you answered, shifting your weight back and forth between your feet as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“..do you want to come in?” he asked hesitantly, but not in a way that gave you the impression that he didn’t want you to.

“i think that would be a bad idea,” you answered honestly.

“sorry - yeah you’re right,” he replied, his face scrunching as if he was kicking himself for asking. you took a deep breath, looking down the hallway one more time, telling yourself that matty was for sure asleep.

“i didn’t say i didn’t want to,” you clarified, and you found it impossible to lift your gaze off the floor in front of you. your heart pounded against your ribcage as you waited for him to say anything, and finally you looked up at him, to find him for the thousandth time today, already looking at you.

“jeez, i’m a terrible friend,” he mumbled to himself. “i shouldn’t have invited you in, that’s not fair of me.”

“even if i wanted you to?” you challenged, taking a daring step into his room, and he sighed.

“your brother is my best friend, he would never forgive me if he knew what i was thinking right now,” he said softly, and you knew he was right. you definitely shouldn’t be sneaking into his room while your brother slept down the hall, but that didn’t stop you from quietly shutting the door behind you anyway.

“what are you thinking right now?” you asked, walking closer to him, only stopping when he stood up straight, facing his body towards you; you hadn’t realized how tall he was.

“about how much i want to kiss you right now,” he whispered, looking down at you as your eyes locked.

“will…”

“no one can know,” he shook his head. “i’m sorry, i don’t want to hurt you.”

“please,” you reached for him, his hands wrapping around your wrists to stop your hands from grasping at the material of his shirt.

“if we do this - we have to be so careful,” he spoke softly, his forehead resting on yours.

“i know. we’re both risking a lot. but i just really, really want you to kiss me right now and-“

his lips were on yours before you could finish your sentence, and you melted into him, his hands releasing their grip on your wrists and allowing you to snake your arms around his neck. his hands went to your waist, fingertips digging into your skin softly as his mouth moved against yours, his lips softer than you’d imagined. you separated to catch your breath, as he walked you backwards until your legs hit the end of the bed.

“do you want to stay?” he asked, and you smiled.

“another bad idea,” you both giggled, his cheeks a light shade of pink from the kiss. “but yes, i would like that.”

“matty usually sleeps in a bit on our days off, so i’ll set an alarm so you can sneak back to your room,” he offered, and then shook his head with a dry laugh, as if realizing what he had said. “i am so not getting the friend of the year award.”

“i’m sorry,” you looked down, but he tilted your face up to kiss you again, softer this time.

“don’t apologize,” he pleaded. “let’s go to bed.”

you slid your legs under the covers as will walked around and go into the other side of the bed. he laid down, and opened his arms for you to crawl into. “come here,” he mumbled sweetly, his voice sleepy as you wrapped your arms around him. you allowed your legs to tangle with his under the blanket as you kissed him on the cheek, a smile blooming on his face in response.

“goodnight will,” you hummed, and he rubbed your back, a million thought running through his mind as he started to drift off to sleep.

“goodnight.”

•

there is a first time for everything, and today had to be the first time that matty was awake early. luckily, will had woken up to the alarm he had set, a little disoriented to be waking up with you in his bed. he smiled down at you in his arms, and shut off the alarm, deciding to let you sleep.

he heard matty’s door and panicked slightly, but breathed a sigh of relief as his footsteps passed his own room and thumped down the stairs. will combed through his hair quickly before heading downstairs after him.

“morning,” he mumbled, rubbing his tired eyes as he wondered why his housemate was awake so early.

“morning,” matty smiled. “i didn’t think you’d be up yet. i wanted to go for a run early today; that way i’m not really ditching you and y/n,” he explained. “i feel kinda bad for leaving them stuck with you last night.”

“ouch,” will faked offence, but judging by the fact that you were currently asleep in his bed, he figured you didn’t mind being left alone with him after all. he smiled to himself as he poured himself a cup of coffee from the kettle, thinking of the stolen kisses from last night, but his smile faltered slightly as he remembered that is was his best friends little sibling he had been kissing.

“i’ll be back in a little while, try not to be a good host if y/n wakes up.”

“alright buddy,” he laughed at the irony, as matty put in his earbuds and hurried out the house. as the door shut, will exhaled deeply, running his hands over his face, feeling incredibly guilty for betraying his friend. he set the coffee mug down on the counter, padding back upstairs to his room, the guilt being replaced with butterflies in his stomach as he looked at you, tangled up in the sheets of his bed. the sun peeked through the cracks in the curtains, illuminating the parts of your skin that it fell upon, and he sighed happily.

will walked over to the side of the bed and sat down next to you, unable to stop himself from gently running his knuckles along your bare arm. you mumbled incoherently, still half asleep as you rolled over towards him.

“hey, sleepyhead. matty went out, but you should probably get up before he gets back,” he explained, and you nodded sleepily, reaching out towards him and grasping at his shirt.

“lay with me,” you murmured, and he couldn’t stop himself, sliding under the covers with you as you curled into him, waking up slightly as he leaned down to kiss you. you returned it, reaching up to cradle the side of his face in your hand as his hands slid up your back, holding you tight. he leaned against the headboard as he maneuvered you into his lap, and you pulled back slightly.

“i guess this means you don’t regret.. this?” you laughed nervously, and he smiled.

“i don’t regret it,” he pecked your lips. “i did feel guilty facing your brother though.”

“i’m sorry,” you mumbled, looking down at your lap, but he tilted you face up gently with a finger under your chin.

“you don’t have to be sorry,” he shook his head. “come on, let’s get out of bed before matty comes back and then we really have to apologize,” he joked, kissing you one more time before helping you crawl out of his lap.

“how many days are you staying with us again?” he asked, as you walked towards the door to head back to your guest room.

“why? you like having me around?” you teased.

“something like that,” he blushed, and you smiled at how cute he was.

“at least three or four,” you replied. “but i think i could be persuaded to stay longer.”

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

[patrice-bergerons]

Hello 👋 I am the anon who asked about the barrister au.

I must know more if you're willing! 🤗

What was the night like when Francis asked James for help with Neptune? Was that the night they became "friends" with each other?

Also, in the fic, James got very sick. How long did he remain sick, and did Francis take care of him the whole time? Did he make him soup? That would be so cute!

Would love to hear about the conspiring against the rave neighbor, that sounds great

And lastly for this ask, when do they kiss for the first time ? Fake boyfriends and misunderstandings? Or something more intentional ?

Thanks again for answering!

BOOp 🐾

BOOPS YOU RIGHT BACK 🐾 Anon I'm thrilled by how much you like this au and the way you continue to indulge me 🥰 I just got out of the office (at 11.45pm!) and this ask is like a balm for my tired soul.

I'm hoping to actually right about the great fitzier scheme against rave throwing penthouse neighbour this weekend and I will pull the wait and see card re the first kiss (because I have PLANS) but let me talk about the other two, starting with Neptune:

First off I must say that these two are so stubborn and stupid they won't acknowledge the fact that they are friends until some time after the inadvisable sex.

But the night Neptune gets sick, it's very late, Francis has had too much to drink such that he can't quite plan how to call an uber let alone find where the nearest vet is.

He does not like James (at all, not even a little bit) but his dog is sick and James is the only person he can go to at that hour, so he does. James also has a car (Francis makes fun of him for being the only person who drives in London) which in an emergency is a real plus.

James cannot stand Francis either, BUT for one he still owes Francis from all those years ago, and even if he didn't — and even if he will not admit this to himself — he wouldn't turn down anyone who showed up at his door at that door looking so distraught.

So he finds an emergency vet hospital with good reviews and drives Francis and poor Neptune there. Neptune idk ate some plastic or what not and needs emergency surgery.

Francis is distraught—and drunk. It's truly unbecoming. And yet...for the reasons listed above, James finds himself distracting him, probably by miring him in an argument about case law or a past ruling until he no longer seems to be on the very edge of a panic attack.

And the thing is. Those two can talk for hours. When they sit down and stop hissing and growling at one another — which only happened once before, when James was going thru the horrors in that coffeeshop — conversation flows between them seemingly without bound. They challenge each other and often disagree but it never once gets boring.

Ultimately Neptune makes it and is fine. You would think this experience would bring them closer but James is kind of a dick about it, Francis is too ashamed of himself, and when James sees his chance to instigate that bar fight, he does not even blink. So it leaves them worse off than where they started lol 😆

Re James being sick, one part of me did want him to have to be taken to the A&E but we shall save the hospital h/c for a little later heh. The paracetamol works and he is fine by the morning. He finds Francis asleep on his sofa and has no feelings at all about this.

It's also very important to me in this verse that James is scary good at cooking and baking whereas Francis can barely fry eggs without burning them — so any soup Francis made for him, James would probably consider to be nuclear waste lol 😅 I really want Francis to get a cold at some point though and James to extend his hand dangling a bag with a tupperware of soup inside as far away from his body as possible at the door while holding a handkerchief to his face because he does not want Francis’s germs, thank you very much 😆 (but their walls are too thin and Francis has a sneeze that's loud enough to wake the dead, anyone would take pity!)

[betweenthings2]

can you do an angsty #5 (a cluttered kitchen sink)?

p.s.- sorry i always ask for angst… you just write it so well

Thank you for the ask!! Don't apologize for asking for angst--I love making all of us so very sad. I can apologize though, and I do for not having this up in November, but the December prompts are here =)

November prompt 5- A cluttered kitchen sink

Matty is neater than George thinks most people would assume. Sure, he's a little bit scattered sometimes and not everything always has a place and not everything is always in it's place--there's always a lighter and a pack of cigarettes on the counter, a stack of unread books and magazines on the coffee table, Matty's keys and coat never quite make it back to the same place every time, and George is pretty sure he's the only one who ever folds the blanket that lives on the couch--but Matty tends to be neat. He doesn't let dishes pile up in the sink and keeps the kitchen stays clean, the laundry is always separated and in the basket, not just dropped on the floor, and he keeps the ashtrays on the coffee table and patio emptied. Matty likes things neat and clean and nice, so he keeps things neat and clean and nice.

George appreciates it. It makes it easy to live with Matty and easier be with Matty when there are no dishes or laundry to squabble over. It also gives George an easy way to keep an eye on Matty's mental health without having a conversation he doesn't like. When Matty starts dropping laundry on the floor rather than the basket, George knows to be just a little bit gentler with him. When Matty's coffee mugs stop making it into the dishwasher, George picks up the slack. He doesn't mind and Matty does the same for him.

Things have been good lately. George can't remember the last time he put Matty's mug in the dishwasher or picked up his laundry. George doesn't expect things to change, which is why it's a little like a slap in the face to come home to find a cluttered kitchen skin after being out of town for a week. It's mostly mugs and silverware and Tupperware that had leftovers when George had left, not dishes from cooking or anything. Clearly, Matty has been living on leftovers, takeout, and coffee while George has been gone.

The house is quiet, too, and most of the curtains are drawn, making the house dim. Matty isn't in the living room so George carries on through the house, leaving his suitcase in the laundry room where he finds the basket full and nothing in the washer or dryer.

Not finding Matty downstairs, George assumes he's in their bedroom, so he heads upstairs and pushes open the bedroom door, careful not to make too much noise in case Matty is asleep. The only time Matty seems to have sleep issues anymore is when he starts feeling bad and George would hate to wake him up if he'd finally asleep.

Matty isn't sleeping, though, and he sits up an looks at George confused for a moment, then says, "I didn't think you'd be home so soon. What time is it?"

"I texted when I landed," George says. "'s almost five."

Matty's face falls, then he scrambles to get out of bed and goes to brush past George and head downstairs, saying, "Shit, I'm sorry, everything is a mess and I meant to take care of it before you got home 'cause you hate it when things are a mess, but I lost track of time, and-"

George stops Matty with a gentle hand that lands on his hip. "You don't need to apologize," he says. "You were feelin' bad. 's ok."

Matty frowns, but he lefts himself be pulling into embrace. "How'd you know I was feeling bad?" His voice his muffled where his face is pressed against George's chest.

George presses a kiss to Matty's hairline and answers, "The kitchen sink. The laundry."

"The kitchen sink?" Matty echoes.

George nods. "You don't leave dishes in the sink unless you're havin' a hard time. You don't let the laundry pile up unless you're havin' a hard time."

"'m fine," Matty tries, but he doesn't move. "I did miss you, though."

"I missed you, too," George murmurs. "Glad to be home." He combs his fingers through Matty's hair, offering comfort, and adds, "You go back to bed and I'll join you in just a couple minutes, ok? I'll bring you tea."

Matty nods. "'k. Thanks."

George presses another kiss into Matty's hair and urges him towards the bed, promising, "I'll be right back. Promise."

"Thanks," Matty repeats.

"'course," George answers. He offers Matty a smile and one more touch, fingers running over Matty's shoulder and down his bicep, then heads downstairs.

George puts the kettle on and while it boils goes about taking care of things. He sets out mugs, then starts a load of laundry and loads then starts the dishwasher before the kettle boils. He makes tea and heads back upstairs.

In bed, Matty looks smaller than he has in a long time, small like before he started eating properly and going to the gym, small like when he was in a spiral of self-destruction. It makes George chest feel tight like he's on the edge of a kind of grief that's a little too big to fathom, but he doesn't say anything to Matty. He just sets their tea on their respective nightstands and changes then climbs into bed. Matty ignores the tea in favor of cuddling close to George, wrapping heavy, tired limbs around George's warm body.

"Sorry the house was a mess," Matty mumbles. "I'll take care of it. Promise."

"Don't worry about it," George responds. "I just want you to feel ok."

Matty hums and runs his fingers over George's ribs, feeling his way over bare skin he's felt a thousand times before.

"Did somethin' happen?" George asks, quiet and careful.

Matty shrugs as best he can. "I just," he pauses, considering, "I missed you. And it's easier to feel better with you around. I mean, when you're here, I don't, I mean-"

"I know, sweetheart," George interrupts.

Matty huffs. "How do you know? I barely know."

"I know you," George answers. "I know how you operate."

"I'm sorry," Matty says again. "You shouldn't have to come home after being gone to everything falling apart."

"'s fine," George insists. "You don't need to apologize. I don't want you to apologize."

"I missed you," Matty says again. "God, I missed you."

George runs his fingers through Matty's hair, blunt nails scratching against his scalp, and echoes, "I missed you, too."

"'s weird being here without you, like, dunno, there's a ghost, like the house is haunted, or something. 's weird," Matty mumbles. "I don't like it."

"I'm home now," George murmurs. "No more ghosts."

"No more ghosts," Matty agrees. "Love you."

"Love you," George echoes.

[27dragons]

New Year Countdown: Dec 26

Ack, I almost forgot again! I blame the doctor appointment I had earlier today. Have a Stony paranormal/urban fantasy AU featuring motor repair shop guy Sam, money-poor Steve, and Tony the technomage!

Dec 26 - Stony - Paranormal/Urban Fantasy AU - Cookies

When Sam came into the shop’s waiting area, Steve leapt to his feet like an expectant father from half a century ago, waiting to be told if it was a boy or a girl. “Well?” Steve demanded. “Can you fix her?” He’d gone into the parking garage that morning to head to work and his beloved motorcycle had refused to start.

Sam grabbed a grease rag and scrubbed his hands with it, looking grim. “Your ECM’s died,” he said. “That’s the computer that actually runs everything. It’ll have to be replaced. Under normal circumstances, that would run you about a thousand, but you’ve had so much custom work done... it’s likely to be closer to fifteen hundred.”

Steve literally couldn’t draw a breath for a moment. “Sam, I don’t... I don’t have that kind of money. Not right now. I could...” He paused, trying to figure out how to get that kind of money. Without his bike.

“There’s more,” Sam said. “The ECM’s dead because someone hexxed it.” He wiped his hands one last time, then dug his cell out of his pocket and thumbed up a photo. Under a feylamp, the hex-mark was easy to see. “Someone’s got a grudge,” he said. “Someone with the ability to get through your wards. So even if I replace it, they’ll just hex it again. Unless you know who it could be?”

Steve stared at the mark for a long minute, but it was impossible to recognize the hand that had drawn it. He shook his head.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” Sam said, sighing. “I’d do the job on credit -- you’ve been a good customer for long enough that I can trust you -- but I can’t do the hex. Luckily for you, I know a technomage who would enjoy the challenge, if you can meet his price.”

Steve snorted. “I can barely see my way clear to paying you,” he said. “No way can I afford a technomage.”

“Hear me out,” Sam said. “Tony’s from one of the Old Families, he’s rolling in money. He doesn’t care about money. What he wants is... something a little different.”

*

Tony’s high-rise office did not look like a mage’s lair. Or especially affluent, though it was definitely nicer than anyplace Steve had ever worked. 

Tony himself, when he emerged, did not look anything like Steve had expected, either. He was young, for a mage, probably not more than forty, if that. He was dressed in loose, worn jeans and several layers of shirts that looked like they belonged in Sam’s repair garage more than a moderately fancy office downtown. He had immaculately-sculpted facial hair, warm honey-colored eyes that Steve could lose himself in, and an ass that wouldn’t quit.

“You’re Wilson’s guy,” Tony said.

“Sam sent me to you, yes,” Steve said cautiously.

Tony lifted a hand and the air beside him suddenly filled with pictures of Steve’s bike and the hex Sam had found on it. Holograms, or illusions? Steve wasn’t sure there was a difference. “It’s an interesting problem,” Tony said. “Did you bring the payment?”

“Uh. Yeah, I, uh--” Steve handed over the large tupperware container he’d been carrying under his arm.

Tony cracked the lid and his eyes closed as he inhaled. “Vanilla, almond, butter, brown sugar... Dark, I think. And... rum?”

Steve blinked in surprise. “Yeah. It was my mom’s recipe.”

“Did you think of her while you made them?”

“I always do.”

Tony opened his eyes. He took one of the cookies from the container and bit off a piece. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Yes, I can taste it. This will do nicely. Consider me on the job.”

“Uh. Can I ask... What do cookies have to do with technology?”

Tony sealed the tupperware again and tucked it into a drawer of his desk. “They don’t. There’s more to me than just technology, you know.”

“Like...?”

Tony grinned. “That’s not really a first-acquaintance story. Maybe after our third date.”

Heat climbed the back of Steve’s neck. “Date?”

“Yes,” Tony said decidedly, then reached up to snare one of the floating images and turned it to look at it. “But we’ve got to get your bike up and running first. I need to get this gorgeous beast between my legs.”

Steve’s blush climbed a little higher.

“Come back in... seven days and seven hours,” Tony said, consulting a watch that didn’t have any numbers or hands. “I should have the problem nailed by then. And then you can take me for a ride and we’ll see if any other nailing needs to occur.” He winked at Steve, which did nothing to help the blush situation, and dismissed the pictures with a careless wave. “I look forward to working with you, Steve.”

[padfootagain]

More than friends

Hi! Here I come with a new request for my Comeback Event! This was requested by @karasong : “hi carole! nice to see you're back, hun. may i please request obi-wan kenobi w/ coworkers au & almost kissing (to actually kissing) for your comeback event? thank you!! 💐💗 »

Thank you so much for your request! It does feel good to be back indeed :)

I hope you like what I’ve prepared for your request.

Let me know what you think of this little fic :)

****

Pairing: Obi-Wan x reader

Warnings: Just fluff!! Shy Obi-Wan is very cute and dear to me. Also, made it a modern AU! cause it fit better with the coworkers vibes to me.

Summary: You and Obi-Wan have been coworkers and friends for a while. But when a barbecue is planned by your firm, you get a chance to take your relationship to the next level…

Word count: 2411

Obi-Wan enjoyed having some alone time, he genuinely did. If he got along just fine with his coworkers, he still preferred the quiet and peace of his office for lunch, rather than the busy and noisy hall of the cafeteria.

It was almost noon, and as usual, Obi-Wan shut down his computer to take his lunch break. He got up from his chair behind his desk to grab the bag he had brought with him in the morning, that rested for now on the little table in the corner of his small office. He had prepared for himself a simple salade, vegetables and chicken. Simple but effective and healthy. All he needed to get through another long day at work. He sat down at his small table, took the Tupperware out of the bag along with his fork and knife, and grabbed his phone.

He didn’t eat though.

He scrolled through social media without paying much attention to what his screen displayed; instead, he kept an eye on the clock set up there, on the wall.

12:15. Only a few minutes to wait.

He eyed his meal, feeling his stomach grumbled, but didn’t open the little box before him. Instead, he mindlessly looked at his phone again. Only a few minutes to wait.

And he was right about that. Only a couple of minutes later, the door of his office was opening, without the bother of a knock.

He welcomed you with a warm smile.

“Hi Obi!” you chimed, closing the door behind you and sitting down at your usual spot, right next to him around his small circular table.

“Hello, Y/N.”

He gave you a warm smile, opening his lunchbox as you did the same with your own meal.

He noticed that your potatoes were warm, a little bit of steam rose from your lunchbox. It explained why you arrived after 12:10. You had to go downstairs to use the microwave, and then go all the way back up to the offices to eat with him. The thought of you purposefully coming back from the cafeteria to eat with him brought a smile to his face, but he didn’t say anything about it.

Better not.

“How was your morning?” he asks, his voice soft and calm, quiet, as it always was when he talked to you.

“Quite crazy,” you answered with a sigh. “With the summer holidays approaching, I have tons of things to finish so I can leave the office in peace for my well-earned vacation.”

“Same,” Obi-Wan nodded. “I heard that Anakin was struggling as well.”

“Anakin is always struggling. He’s too messy not to.”

Obi-Wan let out a chuckle, almost choking on his piece of bell pepper.

“That is quite true. I did do my best to mentor him though,” he heaved a dramatic sigh, and it was your time to laugh.

“He’s just beyond hope at this point.”

“Do you think you’ll be done by the end of the week?”

You shrugged.

“I hope so. If not, all these files will have to patiently wait for my return.”

Obi-Wan seemed to hesitate for a moment. He looked at you, weighing his options. He was apprehensive for your answer, yet he wanted to know.

But then again, he was often a little nervous around you. He blamed his long-lasting crush on you for that.

“Are you going to the barbecue on Friday night?” he asked at last, trying to sound nonchalant.

You studied his features for a moment, trying to guess what he intended to do. Truth was, you didn’t particularly enjoy extra-activities involving your coworkers. Sure, there were some you got along with quite well, Anakin was a good example. But then you would rather just gather with the few colleagues you genuinely liked, rather than to attend a big gathering involving the entire firm.

However… if Obi-Wan was going, then you were not completely against the idea. You blamed your long-lasting crush on him for that.

You shrugged, trying to sound as detached as you could, as if the topic didn’t matter to you. It mattered though, you had been thinking about this event for weeks…

“Probably, yes. I think so. Unless all the people I actually like will be absent, but otherwise, I think I’ll go.”

Obi-Wan nodded, trying to hide the smile that fought to form on his lips.

“Me too. I think I’ll go. It will probably be boring but… it’s for the firm. Besides, Anakin is going, and someone has to make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble.”

You looked at him eating a piece of salad, but didn’t miss the sudden blush that had appeared on his cheeks, despite his cool appearance, his relaxed tone.

For the firm? You weren’t so sure about that.

When you planted your fork in your potato again, listening to Obi-Wan telling you about his weekend, you were grinning.

It was sunny and warm and a little boring.

Events organized by your firm always were boring, but then, it came with the fact that it was work-related. You couldn’t fully let loose and be yourself in these circumstances. You couldn’t allow yourself to be tipsy when your boss was a few meters away.

It wasn’t too bad though. The weather was nice, the barbecue was good, and Obi-Wan was by your side.

He was laughing with Anakin, shaking his head disapprovingly as the young man told you about a reckless trek he was planning across the mountains.

“If you do fall into a crevasse, please, make sure not to call me for help,” Obi-Wan warned his friend, rolling his eyes.

“What makes you think I’ll need help?”

“The last seven years? Ever since we’ve met, basically. You do have a talent to get into trouble, no matter what you are doing.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Absolutely not.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at your friends’ playful banter. These two were like brothers, bickering as much as they could.

You took a bite from your hot-dog, looking around. People were separated in small groups, talking casually, although all kept an eye out to make sure no eavesdroppers were around. It was, all in all, a strange atmosphere that you didn’t like very much.

Anakin was called by another colleague and left you alone with Obi-Wan.

You noticed that he was more nervous than usual. Which was a strange look to find on his features. He was always so calm, so composed. Sometimes, it made it hard to read his mind. Still, you noticed the slight frown across his brow, as well as the way he held his glass of orange juice tightly in his hand.

Obi-Wan was hesitating. He had bought these tickets to see a play next week. He wanted to ask you to go with him… as a date.

He reckoned that the two of you had been playing this game of hide and seek long enough, it was more than time for him to finally make a move. Because, the truth was, he liked you. A lot. An awful lot. Actually… he didn’t merely like you at all...

But how could he ask? You were friends, and coworkers. It made everything complicated.

He had to try though.

“Do you have plans for your well-earned holidays?” he asked, trying to sound detached and nonchalant.

“Seeing my parents. And sleeping. A lot,” you joked, making him chuckle. “What about you?”

“Sleeping does sound awfully tempting. Although, I do have a few plans with friends and… things of the kind. Actually… I wanted to ask you…”

But Obi-Wan was interrupted by your boss, as she called for everyone to gather together to play some kind of game.

Obi-Wan and you exchanged a glance.

“Why do I feel like you are not ready to volunteer for this fun activity?” you teased him, although you didn’t particularly want to join the game either.

“Because you know me well by now, obviously.”

“You should play…”

“Absolutely not. I am not five anymore.”

“Why don’t we escape then?”

He gave you a fond smile, nodding.

You managed to run away from the party, walking across the patch of grass near your office building. You were aiming for the parking lot, the loud sounds of your colleagues slowly diminishing as you walked away.

It was quieter now, as the setting sun bathed the world in a golden hue. Its reflection on the cars was blinding.

“What did you want to ask me earlier?” you finally broke the comfortable silence that had settled between the two of you.

You were crossing the parking lot, but none of you was eager to part. You passed before Obi-Wan’s car, then yours, and didn’t stop walking until you reached a low wall made of red bricks. You sat on the edge, and Obi-Wan leaned against it as well, right by your side. You had both left your drinks at the party. The sounds of the gathering could barely reach you now. It was late, and at the back of the parking lot, there was no one. Behind you, the small street was empty as well.

“Oh… just… I…”

He took a deep breath. Why was he so nervous? He wasn’t the kind to be nervous…

But then, he was talking to you, and you had a special talent to mess up with his entire world in the best way possible.

“I’ve bought some tickets to go see a play next week,” he finally said, struggling to keep his calm voice.

“Exciting!”

“I was wondering if you would like to go with me… maybe…”

“Oh! That would be nice, yes!”

He gave you a smile, but he knew that you did not fully understand what he meant. He could see it in your eyes. You didn’t take his question as an offer for a date, but for a friendly activity.

He shook his head.

“Maybe we could go to a restaurant before that.”

You slightly frown at him, but nodded anyway.

“Sure, that would be nice.”

“Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“I mean… I’m asking this… not simply as a coworker. Do you understand?”

You looked at him warily.

“As a friend?” you slowly asked, cautious.

Your heart jumped, skipped a beat and burst under your ribs when he shook his head.

“No… I meant… as more than a friend.”

He looked away, setting his eyes on the tip of his brown shoes. He couldn’t stand it anymore, the way you stared at him… as if you longed to read right through him…

“If… if you don’t want to, of course, then… we can simply forget it happened at all. I… I would never ask you anything like this ever again. After all, we do work together and it could make things more complicated and…”

“Obi-Wan?”

He fell silent, looking up at you again.

You gave him a warm smile.

“I’d love to go with you. As… more than friends.”

You grinned at each other.

And as he stared at you, he couldn’t help but study every detail of your features. Couldn’t help but stare at your lips, and he barely noticed the way he leaned down towards them, it was like he was falling and couldn’t help it at all. Stronger than gravity, he couldn’t escape from it…

You didn’t stop him. As you saw him leaning towards you, you didn’t stop him. Instead, you actually tilted up your head to face him even more, to get your lips closer to his…

His hand slowly moved upwards so he could rest his fingertips along your jaw, and you shuddered at the feeling, delightful shivers running up your spine under his touch.

You closed your eyes as his breath fanned across your mouth…

But you both jumped as a loud laughter came breaking the tensed silence that had settled around you. You put some distance between the two of you, the moment broken. You looked in the direction of the laugh, and found a pair of your coworkers, a little inebriated, who were crossing the parking lot and thus walking towards the two of you, probably aiming for the bus stop a few meters down the adjacent street. You cleared your voice and stood up.

“I think I should go home, I’m rather tired.”

Obi-Wan nodded, and you didn’t fail to notice how flushed his cheeks were.

The two coworkers ignored you, and you didn’t mind at all. You were happy to simply walk towards your car with Obi-Wan by your side.

He brushed his fingers against yours, and you did the same, but didn’t hold hands. Still, the gentle, almost shy touch made your hearts jump.

You crossed the few meters separating you from your car, and you spoke again as you were looking for your keys in the pocket of your jeans.

“When is the play, then?”

“Next Wednesday.”

“Okay. That sounds fun.”

“I hope it will be. I… I am very happy you accepted to come.”

You exchanged a shy smile, and Obi-Wan opened your car door for you. You thanked him, resting a hand on the top of the door.

“Good night, Y/N.”

But just as you were about to sit in your car, you turned to him again, staring right into his blue eyes. You studied the two colourful orbs, a few strands of his dark blonde hair falling before them as he was a little dishevelled after a long day.

Your eyes travelled down from his cheekbones, to his cheeks covered by a short beard, to his pink lips. And you couldn’t resist…

Before he could say anything else, you were pressing your lips against his in a kiss.

It was still a little shy, and lasted just long enough for him to realize what was happening and react by kissing you back. Just a few seconds, just enough to make you both breathless. When you pulled away, he leaned further to chase after your lips.

He looked a little stunned when he opened his eyes, and you couldn’t refrain a satisfied grin.

“Well… good night then, Obi-Wan.”

You climbed in your car, and he closed the door behind you. He waved at you as you started the car and finally drove out of the parking lot.

Obi-Wan though, remained for a while standing there, as night was slowly falling upon the world, the party finally dying out.

When he walked to his car, at last, he was grinning like an idiot.

[the-ace-with-spades]

Dunno if I'm going to ever finish it (written in bits and pieces at the moment, about 2 out 9 chapters done + dialogues for the rest) but I might as well post it here. It was supposed to be part 1 of a series (the cure series) but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

'cause boys don't cry AU after Eddie leaves 118. When Eddie says a few words too much during an argument, Buck decides to leave LA but still stays in contact with everyone and still acts like Chris' second parent despite being miles away. It takes him two years hopping around the country to realize that his family will still be there without their workplace holding them together. It takes Eddie less to realize he misses him like a lung. Buck-centric, character study, slow burn, mutual pinning, getting together

.

Any kind of holiday cheer has left Buck and by the time he and Taylor are back in his loft, all he wants to do is sleep and forget the whole day happened.

Taylor takes it in stride. Buck has long suspected that she knows a bit too much about the feelings he has regarding Eddie—the feelings that are also too much. She’s been patient with him, like no one else has ever been, to the point that Buck felt guilt about how she was giving him more than he was giving her.

She lets Buck fester in his own mind while she keeps herself busy with unpacking the leftovers and tupperware Bobby handed them on their way out. She puts it all in the fridge which Buck will have to rearrange later and switch some of the stuff into the freezer. He has his own system and she doesn't know it, even after almost a year of dating. It’s fine.

"I know we promised not to talk about it until after New Year," Taylor says when she closes the fridge, voice soft and soothing in the silence of the loft, "but maybe it's a sign."

"Maybe," he agrees.

A few days before Christmas, Taylor got a job offer. In New York. They promised to talk about that first thing first, in January. They haven't talked about it beyond the offer that Buck could be a firefighter in New York. It was Taylor's offer, a compromise that would keep their both careers intact; an offer that seemed perfect on paper.

One thing is clear—Taylor is going, with or without Buck.

And the thing is, Buck would never hold her back, would never ask her to stay in LA with him and that was probably saying more about their relationship than he'd like to admit. But up until this point, he'd been thinking about a way they should go about their split up—because Buck couldn't do a long-distance relationship again—and not whether he actually could be a firefighter in New York. The wait has, so far, been unexpectedly good for them—maybe a deadline to judge how true their I love yous and I miss yous were and deciding whether the last year really proved they were better as a couple than as friends, maybe it was a good thing. Maybe the certainty that by January, they will know what the rest of their year will look like was something they both needed.

"Let me write some emails before going to bed," he tells her.

She smiles back at him, in a way that's almost calming. Not quite, but maybe in a couple of years…

Three hours later, Buck is tired. He's researched how external transfer could work—and it's manageable even if barely—and he's sent seven different emails with his firefighter CV and certs to various chiefs, admins and HR people.

Maybe it's impulsive. Maybe he should wait a bit and cool down. But maybe this is how he should do things—with his heart as the only guide. And his heart is hurt enough that he would do anything to leave LA as fast as he can.

Taylor brings him a mug of cinnamon tea and he gives her a kiss and the only thing his brain wants to acknowledge right at the moment is that Eddie hates cinnamon.

.

The next day, they are at work—having the Christmas Day off means going to work before or after it, or both, in Buck's case—and Buck is tying his shoes on the bench in the locker room.

Everyone is quiet. There's no Eddie. The only familiar faces are Hen and Ravi but the rest of the crew is also avoiding Buck's eyes, like they know he can break at the right look.

"You alright, Buck?" Hen asks, in the end, because someone has to and Bobby is already in his office.

"Peachy."

There's nothing else to say. Eddie was right—he has no right to be angry, about anything, or sad or disappointed or—It's not Buck's place to feel anything regarding Eddie or Christopher and he might have forgotten about it but now that he remembers, he's fine. He is.

Everyone leaves the locker room without a word. It's still ten minutes before the shift begins.

Buck keeps on trying and trying but he can't tie his shoes correctly, his hands shaking enough that both ends tangle together before he can make a proper knot.

Hen steps closer, because she won't leave him alone like this. But that's the thing—she will. Three years and she will be doing rounds in a hospital with other med students. And maybe she gave them a lot of heads up to get used to the idea and maybe, definitely, she will be a brilliant doctor, but it's all the same.

Hen stops his hands from tugging on the shoelaces. Her fingers wrap around his palms, embracing the tense muscles until he loosens the grip. She guides them away, closer to her waist.

"Buck," she says. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm fine, Hen."

There's no other truth. He has no right to any other truth.

"I know you're mad, Buck, and I know you don't want Eddie to leave but—"

"I'm not mad, Hen," he interrupts and it's not a lie. He's not mad—he's hurt and he feels stupid that he forgot his place and that he let himself get comfortable and hopeful again. Things with Eddie hadn't been great ever since the shooting and only spiraled downhill once Buck moved out of Eddie's house after he recovered enough to take care of himself and Christopher on his own—he should have known that it was Eddie's choice, that he was recreating boundaries for Buck so he wouldn't cross into a territory he shouldn't.

But it was too late for that.

Buck has already crossed every boundary anyone from the One-Eighteen had set for him. It wasn't intentional—he just thought his boundaries were in the same spots as everyone else's, that they weren't playing house, that they were living it, the same way he did.

"I think Eddie is making the right decision," Buck tells her because that's also the truth and he doesn't like lying.

If Eddie had talked to him about it, Buck would have told him that too—he would have been supportive, would have helped him with shortlisting potential jobs, would have helped him with talking about it with Christopher, would have set a budget and time-off plan, would have put some order into the chaos the decision was. Eddie was doing what was best for Christopher and that—that's something Buck would never deny him. But Eddie hadn't talked to him about it.

And that hurt. That hurt because one of the things Buck has always thought he would have, no matter what his feelings for Eddie were—platonic, romantic or too messed up to name—was that little place in Eddie's family.

And it was like Maddie all over again, too. Because he thought he had that little place in Maddie and Chim's family, that he would be part of the struggle and the decisions and he would be part of the help. It wasn’t about Maddie not being there for him, it was about Maddie not allowing him to be there for her. It's never been about being left behind—it's always been about being part of someone else, having a place with someone.

And if Buck's not part of any of the two, then who exactly is he? Who is Evan Buckley? Maybe it's time to figure it out, on his own. Maybe it's just part of being a human, leaving others behind, never really settling down with anyone, and maybe Buck needs to do exactly that.

He clenches his jaw and slides his hands out of Hen's grip.

He gives her a small smile and uses the same shaking hands to finally tie his boots. He can't look her in the eyes, at least not for more than a millisecond.

"I'm fine, Hen. Really."

.

Eddie doesn't show up to the shift, or the rest of his shifts, before his two weeks notice runs out—Bobby said he used up the leftover PTO he had, to focus on finding a new job and adjusting to a new life.

Buck picks up Christopher on both Wednesdays and they have a little trip to the cinema and to the new interactive science exhibition for kids they opened just after New Year's. Buck worked on New Year's Eve and on New Year's Day. He takes Chris back home but never walks him past the porch, just watches Eddie open the door for Chris, like he was waiting at the entrance since he heard Buck's Jeep park on his driveway.

He texts Eddie for the first time in two weeks, still sitting in his car in Eddie's driveway, seeing the light turning on in the kitchen of Eddie's house. His engine is on, waiting for Buck to make the escape, to be chased or to be chased out.

To Eddie: Ill pick him up from school for a sleepover next fri

Then, he adds, because he realizes he should be asking for permission;

To Eddie: If its alright with you

A text comes in a minute later.

From Eddie: I have a taster day on sat To Eddie: Ill take him to your abuela b4 my shift then

He puts the Jeep in reverse. He drives to the loft and once he is in the underground parking lot of his apartment complex, he texts Taylor.

To Taylor: Lets do it

There's no signal underground so the text doesn't go through until he's in the elevator. He could unsent it in the next three minutes it takes him to go across the parking lot, if he wanted.

He doesn't unsent it.

He cooks dinner—too much because he never really stopped being used to cooking for two grown men and a growing pre-teen, but Taylor can always take some to work for lunch the next day. It’s a compromise.

Taylor doesn't text him but when she finally comes back from work, she has a soft smile on her face.

She takes a look at Buck, sitting on his couch with an open laptop and filled-out application forms and drafted reply emails to both the chief and the HR admin from FDNY, and she looks at him and steps closer and guides Buck's head onto her chest.

Buck sighs when she brushes her fingers through the short hair on the back of his neck.

It's not quite what he wants but it's something he can grasp now and something that a new place, maybe, can shape into something he wants.

.

On Thursday, Buck goes to work early. Or earlier than he usually would. He goes through the motions—puts on freshly washed and dried uniform, button after button, even getting done the collar one today, slips his boots on and folds his civvies into a neat pile, packs it all back into the sports bag. He goes through the locker too, packs the athletic wear he has to wash between a small towel and gets rid of the little notes, photos and trinkets he has pinned to the inside of the door. It all lands in the trash can, except for the drawing he has from Christopher, of Buck in turnout gear, now years old, and a little origami flower he got from a kid he had rescued from a pile-up his first year on the job.

His name tag is still missing on his chest and as he looks into the mirror on the wall, checking if he's pinning it down straight and while staring at the Buckley written on the silver plate, he realizes he will have to give back his uniform on his last day.

FDNY doesn't have name tags. Their surnames are embroidered onto the uniform in a bright red thread, permanent in a way that Buck would have loved not so long ago.

"Buck," is what shakes him out of his head.

He looks up in the mirror and Bobby's face is already catching his eyes in the reflection.

"You're early," Bobby continues, in that level-headed, monotone voice he uses when he isn't sure what's going on but has a feeling about it. "There's over half an hour left before the shift starts."

Buck doesn't know what to say to that so he asks, "Can we talk? In private?"

Bobby takes him upstairs, to his office. They are quiet on the way there and Bobby's hand is warm on the small of his back when he closes the door behind them. He doesn't sit down, instead, he leans on his desk and looks at Buck. His arms are open like he's preparing for a hug—Buck expected them to be crossed over his chest.

"Cap—" he says and then he corrects himself. "Bobby, I didn't want you to hear from anyone else but I already submitted a copy to the chief."

He hands him the manila folder he snatched from his locker before following him out of the changing area. Bobby opens the elastic in a second and reads the papers inside.

“I think it’s time,” Buck adds when Bobby doesn't say anything.

This stirs something. Bobby looks almost angry—it's a look Buck's never seen on him. Disappointed, disapproving, defeated? Buck's seen that, not this.

“Time for what? I thought this is what you wanted, what you fought for. Buck, you can’t just—”

“It’s an external transfer, Cap, not a resignation letter," he interrupts. Bobby could, probably, talk him out of this and he knows it.

He needs him not to talk him out of this.

“I need a minute to myself, find a place in—with someone. I got too attached to this,” he admits, without really admitting what this means. “To the station, to the crew, to… We might act like it sometimes, but it isn't a family, isn’t that what you told me? I think I took it too far and—it's not—”

Healthy. It's not healthy for him.

Bobby flinches at the words, maybe because he hasn’t remembered them until now or maybe because he hasn’t thought that Buck would remember them. And he hadn't, not until a few days ago when his heart started breaking after sustaining too many cracks in the last months. It’s been five years and Buck still remembers. This is not a family.

And that's Buck's main point here—it's been five years and Buck is in the same place as he started, maybe there's less stolen trucks and meaningless hookups but emotionally, he's stuck. Desperate for a family. Loving with his whole heart without being loved back the same amount. With no clue who he is, except that he is a firefighter, and although this, somehow, might give him a lifeline to grasp, it's not enough anymore. He doesn't want to just survive, he wants to thrive.

“We are a family, Buck. This crew, we all love you, we will always be your family—”

Buck wants to believe it—

“On shift, maybe.” —he knows better now though. “But after the shift, you all will have your real families. You’ve got Athena, and May, and Harry, and Micheal, Hen has Karen and Denny and her fosters, and—and Chim will have Maddie and Jee and I—I just have an empty apartment and way too many feelings. I hate it, Bobby, I hate how this makes me feel so angry and so desperate and so empty, and I need to be less attached. I need to know who I am again without questioning how much of this is real and how much I imagined.”

He can't look Bobby in the eyes—he knows what he would see if he does. Defeat. Sadness. Maybe even a bit of a heartbreak.

“Taylor got a job offer in New York, I checked with the command and they would need me to recertify there if I wanted to be a fully trained firefighter on the crew or squad but they will gladly let me be a floater in the meantime, I don't even have to redo the full training, just pass the ones reciprocity can't be reached on. I’ll technically belong to Station Two-Fifty-Two but I’ll be bouncing around to whichever house will need me at the time. It’ll be good for me, not getting too involved, you know? Just doing what I love with no strings attached.”

No boundaries to cross or to overstretch. Just Buck, in his purest form. Just Buck, not the imagined version he created in his own mind. No Buck 1.0, no Buck 2.0, no Buck 3.0, no Buck 4.0. Just Buck.

Just Evan.

"It'll be good, I promise," he says and it almost sounds like he's saying, I'll be good.

Bobby stands there, his arms falling down his sides. And then he opens them again, this time wider, this time leaning into Buck's space from afar.

Buck lets him hug him. Lets him hold his nape in his palm and lets him guide Buck's face into his shoulder. Lets him sway Buck from side to side until Bobby's breathing, shallow and rapid, is back to normal. Lets himself have this for the last time.

"Please don't tell anyone about it, Bobby," he pleads into his shoulder. "I have two weeks left. I want them to be normal."

Bobby squeezes his shoulders tighter.

.

On Friday, he picks up Chris from school.

First thing in the morning, while, he knows, Eddie is driving Chris to school, he parks on the driveway and uses the spare key to get in. He tries not to look around—at the dirty dishes in the sink, at the thrown over the couch blankets, at Eddie's unused work shoes, sitting near the entrance.

It's not his place, to look at them.

Instead, he packs an overnight bag for Chris—his favorite PJs, two in case something gets spilled, clothes for the next day, his weekend workbook, his space-themed notebook, his comfort blanket, the one he had since he was a baby, and Chris's meds for two days.

He hesitates before going back out to his car. Turns around back to the kitchen and takes a sticky note from the fridge and writes down what he doesn't want to say.

Packed stuff for Chris for the weekend. Don't freak out if anything is missing.

The key is under the mat

– Buck

He leaves the sticky note on the fridge and leaves the spare key under the mat. He's flying out in two days, on an overnight flight on Sunday, it's not like he's going to use it again.

Chris is happy to see him. Just like Buck suspected, Eddie hasn't told him the plan for the day. Buck clenches his jaw before saying something along the lines, Glad you liked the surprise, buddy.

The day is good. They start up by making dough for a homemade pizza and the loft looks like a warzone afterwards but Buck doesn't care. While the dough is left to grow, he helps Chris with his homework and then, they finish up the pizza, making a monstrosity of various toppings that probably shouldn't go together. It’s something they’d done multiple times over the years, even if Eddie is usually there with them.

Chris is amazing the whole day like he always is. They play a mix of video games and board games and even play some modified Uno. Chris rambles about his school day throughout the whole ordeal and runs down possible ideas for his upcoming projects by Buck and they discuss the idea of making a giant soda volcano, just to spite Eddie when it inevitably erupts in their living room—Buck makes him promise he will take a picture of Eddie's face when it happens.

They finish up with a healthy snack—veggies and hummus—and Chris and he brush their teeth before they go to bed for their half an hour of before-bed quiet reading time, each with their own book. When Chris's eyes get tired, Buck finishes up the chapter for him, reading out loud, until Chris curls into his chest on the brink of sleep.

Buck tucks them both in. Chris falls asleep as soon as he kisses his forehead.

He remembers the first time like this, back when Eddie was dating Ana and Chris came for a sleepover in the loft while his dad was breaking Buck's heart, laughing in a restaurant with a woman that wasn't Buck. He had been anxious the whole evening and trying desperately not to think why Eddie wanted Chris to sleep at Buck's and not Buck at their house. But as soon as Chris was under Buck's covers, the only thing he could think about was just how scared he was to sleep with Chris in the same bed. 

Because no matter how big it was, Chris was so small and Buck was not and Buck was a kicker—and a snorer, according to Chris and Eddie—and the thought of hurting Chris, even by accident, or even putting him in any form of discomfort, made him want to grab a spare blanket and sleep on the floor next to the bed.

He stayed awake for about an hour after Chris fell asleep with his head on his chest, contemplating just not going to sleep, when he felt Chris's own legs kicking his thigh with a single, abrupt movement. And then, somehow, he knew Chris would be fine.

And he holds Chris, for an hour, without falling asleep, just like back then, and he knows Chris will be fine with him leaving. He will be fine because he will make sure of that. It's not going to be like his dad leaving for the army or like his mom leaving for LA after breaking down.

It’s a normal day. The upcoming days will also be normal, even if different.

They are eating breakfast in Buck’s kitchen the next morning, Taylor comes in, says hi to Chris and leaves within minutes with her laptop. Before she goes, she stops in the doorframe, looking at Chris’s back, at how unsuspecting he is, and gives Buck a smile that feels like a squeeze of a hand. He nods back at her and smiles, his cheeks protesting at the motion.

Chris is still half-awake but he finishes his choco-chip pancakes without problems. It’s slow, and quiet, and sunny and Buck hates it.

"There's something we should talk about," he starts when Chris is scrapping off the whipped cream off the side of his plate. Buck hasn’t even tried to eat. "Something I have to tell you."