#ts sides pining

[localcanadiancreature62]

I decided to do @kaiytheguy's Glowvember art challenge cuz i want things to look forward to this November,i missed doing @oobbbear's Fiddtober and thus i wanted another event lol. Day 1-8,i skipped past 4 5 and 6 cuz i only wanted to do the first few prompts and the ones for yesterday n' today loll. And of course i decided to make it about my hyperfixations as otherwise it will be boringg.

[randomnerd737]

omg guys I didn't know Logan sanders was in gravity falls!!??/j

[edupunkn00b]

And in Walked Trouble

Troubles never stopped coming for Janus Sanders. And the biggest trouble of them all just sauntered back into his life.

Written for @tsspromptmonth's Sleepy Bean Fanfic Cafe for @greymillieattheball - WC: 1199 -

It was a Monday like any other. Dank, grey, wet. The sky couldn't be bothered to give up snow. Left the streets empty of anyone with anywhere else to go. Suited me just fine.

I'd got to my office early that morning. Well, that's what my secretary thought, at least. If he had eyes, he'd've noticed my coat and hat were bone dry.

"Well, hey there, Boss! You beat me in this morning!" His grin and his powder pink tie were the brightest things I'd see all day. Maybe that's why I kept him around. "Make ya a fresh pot?" he asked, shaking the dented Coletti.

His smile and his coffee. "Might as well," I said, draining the half-empty cup at my elbow.

While he waited for the water to boil, Emi chattered about the clutter on my desk. We both pretended he couldn't see the overdue notices stacked up in one corner. I covered them with last night's paper. As he poured, a shadow moved past the frosted window cut into the outer door. It passed back a few seconds later. On the third pass I nodded at the door. "We're about to have company."

"A client?"

"Maybe." I glanced down at the old bills. "Maybe not. Find out."

Grinning, Emi closed the inner door behind himself. He settled into his own chair just in time for the hall door to open. And trouble to walk in.

"Good morning, sir," Emi recited. "Do you have an appointment?"

"I need to see Janus." Muffled by the thin walls, that voice still gave me chills.

"Detective Sanders is with a—"

"I can smell his coffee." Footsteps tread closer and Emi's chair squealed back. "Jay? Jay—"

"Sir, you can't go—"

"Let him in, Em," I called, picking up the phone. Didn't need to make a liar out of him.

The door creaked open and I hung up the phone. Loud. Vee's smirk said I shouldn't've bothered.

"Hope I'm not keeping you from an important phone call," he drawled, perched on the arm of the chair.

"You know you could try sitting like a normal human being," I countered.

He shrugged, coat falling open to reveal a suit that cost more than I made all last year. "I could." Arms crossed, eyebrow raised, he looked the picture of calm. The picture of calm and a forgery at that. The top button hole on his jacket was stretched, the copper shinier than the rest. His old nervous habit of tugging at it instead of biting his nails giving him away.

That and the big black shadows under his eyes.

I sat back and waited him out. It didn't take long.

"I need your help, Jay," he spilled, falling into the seat. He looked up at me with big doe eyes. Damn those eyes. "The cops think I did it."

Last night's headline called to me. "Did you?"

"What kinda question is that?" Lips pouted, it almost looked like I'd hurt his feelings. Almost.

This time I shrugged. "Wealthy movie star husband turns up dead. No break in, nothing stolen." Vee stared back in stony silence. "It's the kinda question only a idiot wouldn't ask."

"I need you to clear my name." He inched forward and pulled out a check. He placed on the desk between them. It was blank. "How much?" he asked.

My caseload was drier than my throat. "How much you got?"

Warm brown eyes flicked over the unpaid bills, the drip from the window. The second-rate secretary. He wrote down a number, then signed and dated the check. "This do it?" He pushed the check into my hands. A wide, gold band still sparkled on his left hand.

I stared down at that little swirl he still put on the 19s for a long time. Then I folded the check into my pocket. My still-empty cup sat on the desk. I pulled out a bottle from my bottom drawer and filled it to the brim. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"

~

Emi's little brother fidgeted outside the elevator bay. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Of course it wasn't. That didn't matter much. There was only one man in town who could find the evidence I needed. Once up a time, he was on my payroll. He was smart to leave when he did. At least one of us knew enough to cut our losses.

The elevator dinged and a single set of shoes pattered out. "Look sharp," I muttered, head ducked behind today's paper. I pulled my hat brim low. Lo would know me at a hundred feet but Patton? Innocent eyes under rain-spattered curls might just be enough.

"Hey, Mister!" Patton darted forward, blocking Lo's way to the revolving doors. "You got a minute?"

"I regret I am—" Heavy as the clouds outside, Lo's own sigh interrupted him. "Janus?"

There was too much hope in that voice for my liking. I lowered the paper as the pair approached. Patton nibbled his lower lip like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. With Lo watching, I paid him more than I'd promised. He darted out the door without a backward glance.

"You could've just come upstairs," Lo said, voice soft. Softer than it should've been. "You didn't have to trick me into seeing you."

I folded up the paper, pressing the creases neatly so it would back in my overcoat. "That's not how I remember our last conversation."

"Wouldn't it be nice to remember something better?" He stepped closer.

I stepped back. "I'm here for a case." I finally looked up. The least I could do was watch his face fall when I was the one who shattered it.

Lo recovered quickly this time. Mouth tight, he squared up his shoulders. His hands folded neatly behind his back. "I see."

Run, Lo. Don't help me just because I ask.

Eyes grey, dimmed like the slushy pavement outside, he nodded. "What do you need?"

~

"I don't believe it." Vee stared down at the headline I'd set in his lap, Boys in Blue Find the Romeo Slayer, Widower Exonerated. In the picture below, a half-dozen cops led a handcuffed man up the 7th precinct's steps. He reached across the desk, fingers tapping the blotter in front of mine.

I pulled away. Taking out the check Vee'd written that morning, I gave it to Emi. "Deposit this," I said. "Then send out the bills on your desk."

His eyes widened when he saw all the zeros at the end of that number. "You got it, Boss!" Emi's grin never looked brighter. Until he turned, eyes poking holes in the back of Vee's head. "Or you want I should wait?"

Vee'd left his hand on my desk, palm up. He looked back at me, that damned smirk softer than I'd seen in a long time. He'd taken off his wedding ring.

"Or…" Emi stayed quiet until I met his eyes. He frowned, eyebrows raised. "Or you want me to close it?"

I swallowed hard and looked back at Vee's waiting hand.

Emi didn't wait me to answer. With a soft click, my door closed shut behind him.

[bumb1e-vee]

Virgil couldn't stand it. Though it wasn't their fault (never their fault those two were perfect). They were the perfect mix of logic and passion and Virgil just whishes he was able to be included in that love that the two of them share. It hurt, his arms ached and burned when he saw them cuddle, tears pricked at his eyes when he watched them share sweet nothings during movie nights, his heart felt like it was being squeezed in an iron fist when the two of them held hands. It hurt the worst when they sat right beside him.

He couldn't help it, after he saw the two of them together, he ran up into his room, locked the door and started sobbing on the floor, not even making it to his bed. He had gone downstairs for a snack, and when he was in the living room he saw Logan and Roman making out on the couch. It made his heart shatter (the pieces of his heart always chipped away the more he saw the two of them together like that), and his eyes prick with tears that he managed to keep at bay until he was alone in his room, skin stinging with phantom touches, not knowing the feeling of loving touch (He wishes he could be between the two of them on the couch, smothered in those sugary sweet kisses he watches them indulge in).

But Virgil knows better than that, he knows better than to wish for such things. He knows better than to know that he's worth their love (he wants to be, so desperately, he wants nothing more than to be worthy of them). Logan and Roman were the perfect match, logic and creativity, brains and passion, and who was Virgil to think he deserved a spot in love with them, he had a perpetual storm cloud hanging over his head. He'd only put a damper on the perfect happiness the two of them had.

He picked himself up off the ground and got into the shower, that way his sobs could be masked by the running water and the playlist he chose to put on. A bunch of breakup and unrequited love songs used to put salt into his wounds.

(How could he listen to anything else, his heart was screaming in pain?). Virgil sat in the shower until the water ran cold and the playlist had played out at least three times. His eyes were red rimmed and his skin was wrinkled as he pulled on a tee shirt and a pair of shorts. It was only about 5:30 at night, well before dinner, but Virgil didn't see himself going to dinner with the others. (He didn't want to face the other two and sit across from them to see them so in love). It didn't matter that much he decided. He pulled out his phone and opened tiktok, the endless doom scrolling was about to begin, and he could at the very least distract himself from the growing hole in his heart.

[tsspromptmonth]

Here’s where I ask for a Larger Coffee~ :D

Too many comments to fit in an ask.

Janus-focused, shipped with anyone but Patton. Canonverse. The Most yearning and pining. Hurt/comfort.

Comments are on these stories:

The Worst Part

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58794004/chapters/149833183

Broken Pieces (Pieced Together)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29233482/chapters/71780991

Burnout

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57012769/chapters/144988270

A Swallow’s Symphony in Spring

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57842335/chapters/147227044

Order up!

Those Three Words by @dragonsaphirareads

[spoondoodles]

Do you see my vision yet?

[chillykitty]

dysfunctional polycule c!Thomas x Remy x Blue Screen x Melatonin x Late Night Snacking x Andy x Otto helllooo new poly ship

[goldnskyart]

Skateboards and jam 3/?

This is probably my favourite thing I’ve ever written, especially the last few paragraphs, so I hope y’all enjoy it as much as I do😭

ao3 | <- Previous | First | Next ->

Instinctively Roman put his arms out to catch himself, and this time it worked. His hands and knees hit the ground hard. Virgil was too caught up in his own thoughts to realize what was going on before he was on the ground, flat on his back with Roman’s hands on either side of him. His face started to flush again, accidentally locking eyes with the other, who was awkwardly leaning over him on shaky hands and knees. Those eyes truly were something special with how they kept making his heart race. Roman froze for a moment, his body screaming in pain. And on top of that this was undoubtedly the most embarrassing thing he’d ever done. ”I’m sorry.” He almost whispered, before quickly trying to get on his feet using his right hand, putting more weight on it he softly winced before smoothly switching to using the left one instead. Trying his very best to keep face and pretend nothing hurt.

Virgil's eyes widened noticing his pained expression, damn he really hurt himself this time. Worried he quickly followed him up, brushing the dirt off the back of his black jeans. But Roman got there before him, “Are you alright??” He asked, looking at him with big worried eyes. “Yeah, I’m alright, don’t worry about it.” He replied, still trying to get the stubborn dust off his pants. “Turns out this really isn’t my thing, huh?” Roman chuckled, his face burning red. He couldn’t believe he just did that, just falling was bad on its own but this, mortifying, by now he had for sure blown any shot he might have had. Maybe he should just leave now before embarrassing himself further he thought and slowly started to back away. Suddenly he felt a soft hand around his wrist. “Hey wait, come with me.” Virgil said gently but still firmly, it wasn’t a question. He had turned around to pick his board up and when he turned back Roman already started to back away from him, visibly in pain. He didn’t like to admit he was worried about him but it just wasn’t something he could allow, he couldn’t just let him leave like that when he knew he could help. He gave him a gentle smile “I think you need to sit down for a bit”, his hand still firmly locked around the other's wrist. Romans eyes slowly widened, but he followed him without protest. “Sure,” he murmured, too flustered to look directly at him. It wasn’t like he wanted to leave anyway, and as long as Virgil didn’t want him to, he'd be more than happy to stay. And they were basically holding hands, what could be better than that?

Virgil had a specific spot in mind. Most of the benches in the park were placed in the center, always used by the other skaters' bags and jackets and in the middle of the big crowd, not where they wanted to be right now. But a little hidden on the opposite side of the park there was a small concrete wall. Most used it for spray painting but it was also the perfect height for sitting, he had done so often while waiting for his friends. Virgil stopped, gently letting go of the other. “Here, have a seat.” He gestured vaguely towards the wall. Roman plopped down with a big sigh. “I guess you were right,” he chuckled, not able to keep his eyes off the skater’s nervous expression. He truly has no business being that cute.

For a moment Virgil just zoned out, staring blankly at nothing, mindlessly spinning a wheel on his skateboard. He shook his head a little, trying to snap out of it before putting the board down next to Roman’s feet. The guy really wasn’t in great shape at this point, apart from his hands the knees and forearms were covered in bleeding scrapes. He knew from experience it probably looked way worse than it was, but that didn’t mean it was good. And it certainly didn’t mean it wasn’t painful. Virgil sighed as he sat down on the ground right in front of him, getting not one but two packs of bandaids out of one pocket and a bandage from the other one. It felt a bit embarrassing to admit he was always carrying those around, but he had needed them enough times that it started to feel justified. Roman tilted his head in confusion as he realized that he was sitting down on the ground instead of next to him on the wall, eyes widened seeing Virgil get a bunch of bandaids out. “You really don’t have to-“ he began but was swiftly interrupted by the other looking up at him. “No, I do.” He said and gave him a gentle smile before continuing, “I have the time and the stuff and you clearly need it so why wouldn’t I?” He pointed out while opening the first pack of bandaids. “Unless you need to go soon of course-“ he quickly added, the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. Roman aggressively shook his head at that, “No no no, I don’t, I can stay all night if I wanna.” He let out a little laugh, “I just didn’t expect you to want to do that- there’s gotta be more fun things you could do.” Virgil shrugged, “nah not really- besides this is kinda calming..” He felt his face heating up but he didn’t quite understand why, it was true, nothing to be embarrassed about.

“Well if you say so” Roman chuckled. He didn’t like admitting that he needed help but he probably did, and the fact that Virgil wanted to take care of him made his heart flutter a little. Gently Virgil started to place some bandaids, trying to be light on the hand to avoid any unnecessary pain. “How come you just have all this with you?” Roman asked, genuinely curious, he had never met anyone who carried anything more than a couple stray bandaids for emergencies. Virgil tensed up a bit at the question “I just like being prepared, you never know when you’ll need them” he replied, trying hard to avoid looking at the other. And he seemed to accept that answer, they sat there in silence for a while, Virgil slowly working his way up from knees to arms. Using up every last band aid. He couldn’t help but chuckle a little at the sight of him, not unlike a toddler who just fell off a bike for the first time. Hurting himself that much was almost skillful.

“So, which hand?” Virgil asked, bluntly but not harsh, finally looking up towards him again. Roman chuckled nervously, “I don’t know what you’re talking-“ he was interrupted by a stern stare, accompanied by a hand reaching out towards him, telling him to just quit his bullshit. He sighed, “alright,” giving him his right hand, for some reason he was more embarrassed about this than the scrapes covering most of his legs. And the thought of him gently holding his hand made him blush furiously. “You can move it right?” Virgil carefully took his hand “Mhm.” Roman nodded, it did hurt but it absolutely wasn’t that bad. “Good.” He smiled a little and gently started to put the bandage on, for some reason holding his hand like this made him feel weird. For a moment he stayed quiet before he let out a sigh “I feel like I should probably tell you this..“ Stopping for a moment, eyes fixed on the ground beside him. “You do know I can’t actually skate very well, right? Better than you, but like I’m still very much a beginner.” He laughed a little to himself, glancing up at the other. Roman stared up at him with wide eyes, the thought hadn’t ever crossed his mind. But thinking about it, he hadn’t actually ever seen Virgil on his board, he was always carrying it around or sitting on it, but never actually using it.

Virgil swallowed hard, he couldn’t read that expression at all, maybe he should’ve just stayed silent. Not that he cared about what this guy thought of him, he just didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of him. “Well that explains the band aids then.” Roman laughed softly and gave him a gentle smile, the skater couldn’t help but also laugh a little at that. “It’s true, I do usually need them myself.. but never quite that many.” He chuckled, a weight lifted from his chest. Roman laughed with him and briefly Virgil stopped and turned to look at him, immediately regretting it. His laugh was the most breathtakingly beautiful thing, and the sun perfectly hit his golden brown hair and soft cheekbones to make him look absolutely radiant. And his eyes, oh god his eyes, a soft honey color gently sparkling in the sun, he’d never seen anything like it. Quickly he looked away again, face flushed Finally he had realized what was going on. Putting the rest of the bandage on wasn’t easy, suddenly he was hyper aware of everything he did, and holding the other’s hand in his made him almost nauseous from the rush of feelings. He absolutely did care what this boy thought of him.

Thankfully for him, Roman had gotten started talking and was barely stopping for him to respond. So he could comfortably just sit and admire him for a while as the golden light danced across his face, his soft hand gently resting in Virgil’s, trying to come to terms with his new feelings. He knew he was a little out of touch with his emotions, but missing this massive crush was strange even for him. He really thought the nerd was just getting on his nerves. Maybe it was for the best though, if he had felt like this he never would’ve approached him, ever. Now he at least got a chance.

[edupunkn00b]

I am so excited to finally get back to my Intruality Week story I’d planned for last year’s event. I was a little worried the prompts wouldn’t fit as well as last year’s but these blue and green bois have got some themes.

Life got in the way last year but I’m back and so excited to share what I’ve been cooking up for this chaotic duo.

Intruality Week 2024 Prompts!

Decorative image of all the prompts in a word cloud, weighted by final votes.

Blue Prompt List

wonderland/fairy tale chaos plushies best friend's brother domestic stitches music

Green Prompt List

butterfly fear sharing clothes dreams flowers realization adventure

In keeping with the themes of duality and chaos, we will have TWO prompt lists this year.

Pick one, follow it all. Or pick a word from each and mash them together. Or tear them up and throw them all in a hat and see what comes out. Do what Remus and Patton would do and have fun with it!

Intruality Week starts July 14th so get crackin'!

Logan helped make sense of this all. If you're interested in more, there's a full breakdown here:

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

GUILTY AS SIN...? - PART I

summary: one summer with the man you can't have, but can't stop thinking about.

pairing: cillian murphy x popstar!reader

word count: 5.5k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). mentions of sex. angst. cussing, slight age gap, mentions of alcohol and divorce. no use of y/n, heavily inspired by ts and ttpd. if i missed something please let me know. (also this is a work of fiction, none of it reflects how i feel about the people mentioned in this, most importantly cillian's wife, who im sure is a sweetheart irl. it's fiction, just relax and enjoy it, and if not, move along, friends.)

a/n: hi everyone! this turned out pretty long so i will be splitting it into parts so it's easier. next part will be posted soon. i hope you all have as much fun reading this as i had writing it. enjoy!

part two

The breeze riffled through your hair as you drove, the sun warming your skin through the open windows. The Irish countryside stretching out before you, lush and green, with rolling hills and quaint villages dotting the landscape. The scent of wildflowers and the sound of nothing but the wind in the trees filled your senses.

It was rare, really. The silence, the feeling of complete freedom, and the solitude that enveloped you. A fleeting escape from the chaos of your everyday life.

The ping of your phone interrupted the peaceful moment. You tapped on the pop-up notification after briefly glancing at the directions to your destination. It was a message from Cillian. Well, two, actually. One was asking how far you were, and the other was a Spotify link followed by a question mark. Ever since he started hosting his bbc radio show, he's been sending you potential songs for his playlists to get your opinion. Not that he needs it anyway. But you always appreciate being included in his process.

Your lips curled into a smile as you clicked on the link. The familiar sound of The Blue Nile's "The Downtown Lights" flooded the car, instantly making you feel a wave of nostalgia. It's been ages since you've listened to that song. The synth-pop melody carries you up the pine-dotted path to where his house perches atop a hill, overlooking the crashing waves below. You've been here a couple of times, and yet it never gets less breathtaking. The Victorian architecture contrasting beautifully with the rugged coastline, creating a scene straight out of a painting.

The car glides right past the wrought iron gates, and you cut the engine in front of the stone steps leading up to the grand entrance. You shoot Cillian a quick text letting him know you're here, unbuckle your seat belt, and hop out of the car.

The June sun beats down on your skin instantly, heat radiating off the cobblestones as you open the backdoor to look through your bag for a hair tie. The smell of saltwater mingles with the sound of gulls overhead, sending you into sensory overload. "Gotcha," you mutter to yourself as you finally find the hair tie and pull your hair back into a loose bun.

"You drove here?" you hear him call out from behind you, his voice tinged with surprise. "And you're alone?" you turn around to see Cillian walking towards you, a curious expression on his face.

"I actually had to throw a tantrum to convince them to let me come alone," you reply with a chuckle, feeling a sense of pride at your small victory. "I was like, It's Ireland. What's the worst that could happen?"

Being who you are means being guarded against any potential danger or harm at all times, being driven to almost everywhere, and always having a security team around.

Cillian laughs, a sound that makes your heart flutter and makes you want to hear it again and again. "Well, I'm glad you made it here in one piece, love," he says with a grin. "You're not a very good driver."

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You did regret your decision to drive from the airport 10 minutes later when you realized you were on the wrong side of the road. But he didn't need to know that.

"I made it in one piece, didn't I?" you playfully retort, trying to salvage your wounded pride. Cillian chuckles and shakes his head with a twinkle in his eye. You stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. He looks good, you thought. Unbelievably good. Well rested. His jet black hair was perfectly styled, even though you know he didn't put any effort into it—the slightest hint of silver at the temples, his sharp jawline, and those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. Though they looked a little tired, as if he had been through a lot since the last time you saw him.

You quickly avert your gaze, feeling a rush of heat on your cheeks.

"It's good to see you," you finally manage to say, trying to sound casual. Cillian's smile softens, and he replies, "It's good to see you too." He opens his arms, inviting you in for a hug. The soft fabric of his t-shirt brushes against your skin as you embrace him, and for a moment, everything feels right in the world.

"Come on, let's get inside," he says, leading you towards the house. Once inside, you make your way to the kitchen. The house was quiet; you wondered if anyone else was home. Cillian's family wasn't by any means loud or boisterous, but the silence felt heavier than usual.

"You hungry, love?" Cillian asks, opening the fridge, pulling out a white ceramic container, and setting it up on the kitchen island. You take a seat on one of the stools while he stands across from you.

"For something sweet?" you smile, seeing the container filled with what seems to be a piece of strawberry sponge cake. His mom must've made it. "Always," you reply. He hands you a spoon and takes one for himself, the two of you sharing the dessert in comfortable silence.

Until he broke it.

"How was Madrid?" he asks softly.

"It was good, great crowd," you reply, taking another bite of the dessert. "But tiring," you add, feeling the exhaustion of the long trip settling in.

"How many nights did you perform?"

"Four."

"Jesus, that's quite a lot, isn't it?"

Your eyes meet his; confusion clear in your expression. "You think that's a lot? Didn't you used to do four or five nights in a row of the same play?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "for months…?

"Yeah, but that was a different kind of exhaustion," he explains, taking another bite. "Performing the way you do in front of a live audience for three hours is a whole different ball game, love."

Love.

There it was again. That godforsaken term of endearment that he seemed to throw around so casually. It made your heart race every time he said it, even though you knew it probably meant nothing to him. But the way he looked at you now, with a hint of admiration in his eyes, made you wonder if maybe—

"Want the last bite?" he offered, taking you out of your thoughts. He pushed the container towards you, a small smile playing on his lips. His gaze was intense, as if silently urging you to take it.

"Oh, hello," a voice exclaimed from behind you, breaking the moment. You drop the spoon on the counter, a little startled. As if you were caught in the act of something forbidden. You turned around to see Yvonne, Cillian's wife. She said your name with a surprised tone, making you feel guilty for some reason. "I didn't know you were here," she continued, her eyes flickering between you and her husband.

You started to rise from your seat, confusion clouding your thoughts. That's weird. Cillian usually lets his wife know when you're visiting, but this time it seems like he didn't. She walked towards you, enveloping you in a hug. "When did you get here?" she said.

"Not long ago," you replied, relieved that she didn't seem upset. "I, uh, wanted to take a break and thought Ireland might be a good place to do that," you added, hoping to diffuse any tension that may have arisen. She nodded understandingly. "And you're staying here?"

"Oh, no, no," you quickly assured her. "I rented a place nearby, so you don't have to worry about me."

"Nonsense," Cillian interjected. "You can stay here. There's plenty of room."

"She's already paid for it, Cillian," Yvonne retorted, giving him a stern look.

Something was definitely off.

This was the last thing you wanted. You've specifically chosen the cottage for two reasons. First, to have space. The whole point of this trip was to finally have peace and write music. You've been stuck for months, not being able to find inspiration in your usual surroundings. Everything felt dull inside you all day—an emptiness that was smothering.

Second, you needed to stay the fuck away from Cillian. Being close to him was dangerous territory, one you didn't want to navigate right now. The plan was to come and visit and occasionally hang out and that's it. The thought of being in such close quarters with him was overwhelming. Staying here meant risking your heart and sanity.

You hesitated, also not wanting to intrude on their space, but Cillian insisted.

"Okay…How about if I stay for a couple of days and then move to the cottage?" you suggested, hoping to compromise. "Sounds perfect to me," he said.

This was going to be a long summer.

For the next few days, you dream too much, don't write enough, and try to find inspiration everywhere. As you settled into the routine of staying at Cillian's, you found yourself enjoying the peaceful surroundings and his company more than you expected. The days seemed to blend together, filled with laughter, deep conversations, and stolen glances that left your heart racing.

But you also felt constantly distracted by his presence, making it difficult to focus on your writing or anything else, for that matter.

All you could think about was him.

The piano room surrounded you with its warm, inviting atmosphere, and you found yourself drawn to it more often than not. The big windows overlooking the garden let in streams of sunlight, casting a warm glow over the bookshelf. You felt the softness of the carpet as you sat on the grand piano bench, running your fingers along the keys absentmindedly.

You started humming a tune that had been stuck in your head for days, the words appearing softly and effortlessly as you played:

Please

I've been on my knees

Change the prophecy

Don't want money

Just someone who wants my company

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

Who do I have to speak to

About if they can redo

The prophecy?

The humming went on whenever you didn't know what to say next, filling in the gaps between the notes on the piano and the lyrics:

A greater woman has faith

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

I'm so afraid I sealed my fate

No sign of soulmates

I'm just a paperweight

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

Spending my last coin so someone will tell me

It'll be ok

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

The melody filled the room until you stopped abruptly, frustrated that the lyrics weren't coming as easily as before. You closed your eyes with a groan, trying to clear your mind. "Fuck," you muttered under your breath, elbows resting on the keys of the piano.

"You good?" Cillian's rough voice broke through your frustration, causing you to look up and offer a weak smile. You don't know how long he's been standing there or how much he heard of your struggles. "Just hitting a wall with this song," you admitted, running a hand through your hair.

"Ah, I see," he nodded sympathetically. He moved towards the records stacked on the shelf and pulled one out, placing it on the turntable. "I don't want to mess with your creative process or anything, but maybe a break with some music will help," he suggested.

Radiohead's "Fake Plastic Trees" began to play, taking over the room with its haunting melody.

"So you play one of the saddest songs ever?" you deadpanned, "Thanks."

He chuckled softly, "You were playing some pretty intense stuff; I figured it would fit right in."

Oh, so he did hear you.

"Ah, I know it's different from my usual stuff," you said quietly, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious about your music. "I might scrap that one. They might not be onboard with the change."

"And why's that?"

Thom Yorke's voice faded into the background as you contemplated his question, unsure of how to respond.

You shrugged, "I listen to sad music, not make it."

"I liked what I heard," he reassured you, "and change is good. It keeps things interesting."

His low voice was soothing, and you found yourself feeling more at ease with the idea of trying something new. Pop has been your comfort zone for so long, it's what stands out of you, but most importantly, it's what sells. At least, that's what's important to the industry. Maybe it was time to push yourself out of it.

"I guess you're right," you replied, a faint smile creeping onto your face.

"As always," he said, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. He stood leaning against the table where the record player sat, arms crossed, looking as if he had too many things to say and not enough words for them.

"Would this be a good time to ask you if everything's okay?" you inquired, noticing the weight of unspoken thoughts in his eyes. "With Yvonne, I mean," you added, nervous to bring up the topic.

That first day, when you arrived at the house, you could sense there was something going on between them. Something bad. The tension in the air was so obvious, but you didn't want to pry. However, as the days went by, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that she hadn't been around or the absence of a certain ring on his finger.

"And here, I thought you were never going to ask," he replied, his words laced with sarcasm.

"I was waiting for you to bring it up," your voice trailed off, unsure of how to proceed. "I-I didn't want to overstep."

He studied you for a moment, or at least, you assumed that was what he was doing. Finally, he averted his gaze and cleared his throat,"We've separated."

A cold feeling settled in your chest as you processed his words. The reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks, and suddenly everything made sense. "Cillian," is all you managed to say, the concern evident in your voice.

He still wouldn't look at you. Knowing him, in moments like this, he wouldn't want to be coddled or pitied, so you save your apologies for later.

"What happened?"

He waved his hand dismissively, still avoiding your gaze. "Nothing, really," he said, his tone final. He didn't look upset, but rather resigned to the situation. "It hadn't been working for a long time; we both knew it was coming. I guess we were holding on for the boys more than anything." You could see the sadness in his eyes, despite his attempt to appear nonchalant. The weight of his words hung in the air, leaving you feeling defeated and unsure of what to say next. You don't think there's anything you can say that will make this or him feel better.

And boy, did you wish you could take away his pain with just a few words.

Cillian walked slowly over the piano, stopping in front of it. He streched his arms over the wooden soundboard, gripping the edges tightly as if seeking some sort of solace in the instrument. He finally looked at you.

"Why didn't you say anything, Cill?" you asked softly, "I would've—"

"You would've what?" he interrupted, his voice strained with emotion. "I didn't want to worry you, you have more important things than my marital issues."

You could see the pain in his eyes, and it tore at your heart to see him suffering in silence. "You're my friend. These things are important to me, Cill," you said gently, reaching out to touch his hand in a gesture of comfort. He flinched slightly at your touch, but then relaxed, leaning into your hand.

He didn't say anything, but you knew he appreciated your words. You could tell by the way his shoulders slumped in relief and the way his fingers loosened their grip on the edge of the piano.

One morning, you woke up to the wind gently rustling through the trees outside your windows. The morning light was clear and clean, leaking through the glass and falling against the walls of the room in soft patterns. It felt too early to be awake, too peaceful to disturb the tranquility of the moment.

You roll over to look at the little clock on the bedside table: 6:20 AM. It wasn't worth trying to go back to sleep, so you threw the covers and climbed out of bed, feeling the cool wood floor beneath your feet as you walked to the bathroom.

You splash cold water on your face and brush your teeth, trying to wake yourself up fully. Holding up your hair, you tie it into a ponytail while walking over the bedside table to grab your phone and airpods. You put one in your ear and hit shuffle on one of your morning playlists. You couldn't function without some music. "Keep On Loving You" by Cigarettes After Sex starts playing.

On your way to the kitchen, you walked by Cillian's room and noticed the door was slightly ajar. Who the hell sleeps with their door open? Psychos, probably. Curiosity getting the best of you, you peeked inside to see him sprawled out on his bed, body illuminated by the soft morning light filtering through the curtains—characteristic warm and cool shades revealing every hollow and speck of bare muscle. He slept with every limb stretched out, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor. It was a rare sight, quite poetic.

He looked so peaceful, completely unaware of your presence. So you let your mind wander.

You imagined yourself crossing the room, pulling yourself on top of him. You imagined the way his bare body would look beneath you, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his dark hair messy around his face, his skin warm against yours. His hands—rough and soft at the same time—running over your thigh, your breast, your neck. You could almost feel the heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze as he looked up at you.

But then reality snapped back into focus.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath. This was just a fantasy, a dangerous game to play with someone who was somewhat off-limits. But truth be told, the temptation was becoming harder to resist with each passing moment. It was all you could think about ever since he told you about his troubled marriage.

It took a long time for your heartbeat to slow. You headed to the kitchen to get some coffee, hoping that the caffeine would help clear your mind. As you rummage through the cabinets for a mug, his voice startles you from behind. "Need some help with that?" he asks, making you jump.

For a moment you thought you were still imagining things, but you turn around to see him standing there with a t-shirt on as opposed to five minutes ago. Great, him walking around shirtless in his kitchen, sleepy-eyed, messy hair, and rough morning voice would've been lethal.

"I've got it, thanks," you reply, shaking the mug slightly in your hand. You quickly pour yourself some coffee and try to focus on the task at hand: looking for the sugar.

"Sleep well?" he asks, voice still husky from sleep, his accent more prominent. He's rifling through the cabinet for a mug of his own. You can't help but notice the way his muscles flex under his dark t-shirt as he reaches up. You hum in agreement, trying to hide your blush as you take a sip of your coffee. "You?"

"Grand," he replies, pouring himself a cup of coffee and leaning against the counter. You exchange small talk about the upcoming day, but your mind keeps drifting back to how good he looks in the morning light.

"Any plans for today other than locking yourself in the piano room?" he teases, and you shoot him a playful glare. "Maybe I'll actually venture outside for once," you quip, laughing.

"How does the beach sound like?" he asks, "The boys are coming over, and they're bringing some friends, and I thought a trip would be a nice change of scenery."

"I could use some sun," you admit, feeling a smile tug at your lips.

"Let's make it a beach day then," he suggests, setting his mug on the sink. "We leave at 10, piano woman."

"Ha ha, very funny," you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes. "But I'll hold you to it, annoying man," you reply.

"Annoying man?" he repeats, raising an eyebrow. "I thought I was your favorite person."

"Only on days that end in 'y'."

•••

"Are you done with your sad boy music?"

Cillian bursts out laughing, the sound taking you by surprise. He's been playing Radiohead on repeat for the whole car ride, and you were starting to feel like you were in a melancholy music video. "I like their music as much as the next person, but I think I need a break from the sadness," you say.

"Fine, fine," Cillian concedes, reaching for his phone to change the song. The bleak atmosphere in the car lifts as "Linger" by The Cranberries starts playing, filling the space with a more pleasant vibe. Cillian glances at you, he's wearing dark shades that hide his eyes, but you can still see his stoic expression softening as he catches you smiling at the change in music.

"Better?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Instead of answering, you start silently singing along to the lyrics, gesticulating dramatically for added effect. Cillian smiles at your antics, his own lips twitching in amusement as he watches you. The boys were so caught up in their conversation with their friends in the backseat that you were pretty sure they weren't even paying attention to the music or your impromptu performance. With a small smile on your face, you face out the window and enjoy the rest of the car ride in content silence.

When you arrive at your destination, all of you unbuckle your seat belts once Cillian puts the Bronco in park. You all pile out of the car, stretching your legs and taking in the sights around you. You close your eyes for a second and take a breath. The sea air—you loved that smell.

•••

A few hours later, after countless swims and some snacks, you find yourself lying on a beach towel, book in hand, feeling the warmth of the temperature on your skin. You're reading a book you picked up at an airport several months ago by Elin Hilderbrand, or the queen of beach reads, as many call her. You were completely engrossed in the story until you felt Cillian settling down next to you.

His hair was damp from the water, and his skin was slightly glistening. Gosh, he looked absolutely stunning. "Mind if I join you?" he asks.

"Not at all," you reply, closing the book and sitting up. "Having fun?"

"Lots," he says with a smile, reaching over to grab his sunglasses. The two of you sit in comfortable silence. The laughter and chatter of his sons and friends coming from the water redirects your attention back to the beach scene before you. You look back at Cillian, his eyes fixed on his sons.

"They love you, you know," you say softly, watching the genuine joy on his face as he watches his children.

"I don't know if I'm doing it right," he says, eyes still fixed on the boys. "I worry I might've fucked them up by letting my relationship with their mother fall apart."

He continues, "Sometimes I feel they resent me for it."

"Why do you feel that way?"

"I don't know, they just seem distant sometimes. Like they're holding back."

"Hey, that's normal for kids to have mixed feelings about their parents' separation. I was so happy when mine got divorced because it meant no more fighting, but it was also tough to adjust to the changes. It's very conflicting stuff," you say, huffing a small laugh. "Also, they're teenagers now, right? That's a tough age to navigate even without the added stress of divorce."

Cillian nods in agreement, exhaling out a yeah.

You squint against the sunlight beaming behind his head before continuing.

"You're a great dad, you always have been. Just show up and be there for them when they need you, even if they don't always seem to appreciate it. They'll remember it in the long run," you offer, remembering how much your own father's presence meant to you after your parents' divorce. "And I'm not a parent, but what parent feels like they're doing everything right all the time, anyway?"

Cillian turns to look at you. He studies your face for a moment before offering a small smile. "I guess you're right," he says sincerely.

"Fork found in kitchen," you retort, breaking the tension with a bit of humor.

He chuckles, "That's clever."

"Well," you continue, "I've been accused of many things over the years, but being unoriginal isn't one of them."

He laughs. Just like he did back in the car: a genuine, carefree laugh that makes you feel a little lighter.

"Want to go for one last swim, piano woman?"

You roll your eyes. "Will you stop calling me that?"

"Not likely," Cillian replies with a grin. "It's too fitting."

You stand up and stretch. You're wearing a one-piece teal-ish swimsuit that you swear you only chose based on comfort and not because it makes your ass and breasts look fantastic. Cillian's eyes linger on you for a moment before he looks away, and you swear you can see a hint of a blush on his cheeks. He doesn't move.

"Are you coming or…?"

"Right, one last swim," he finally says, standing up and following you towards the water.

Maybe that one last swim wasn't a great idea after all.

And why is that?

Because not even five minutes into the water, you thought it would be a good idea to jump from a high rock, and now you're sitting in the car with your knee scrapped, throbbing in pain, and regretting your impulsive decision.

•••

"You're so fuckin' stubborn."

You try to move into a more comfortable position while ignoring the pain shooting up your leg by pressing a hand against one side of the door to keep yourself steady. "And you're so clearly overreacting."

Cillian pushes his bedroom door open. He's also clearly pissed. The ride back to the house was deathly silent. Well, not silent. His sad boy music made a return, and this time with Broken Social Scene. You couldn't ask him to change the music without starting another argument. Even the kids were quiet, beyond asking several times if you were okay, which you assured them you were. Obviously a lie.

As Cillian walks around the room, you reach for your midi white beachy dress and look down at your knee in horror. It's no longer just a bruise, but a gash that is slowly oozing blood. Not as much as before, but still. It looks nasty underneath the shirt Cillian used from his car as a makeshift bandage.

He grabs the first aid kit from a shelf and turns around to face you.

"Take off your dress."

"Pardon me?"

"Take off your dress so I can properly clean and bandage the wound," Cillian repeats, his expression serious. You look down at the blood-stained fabric as if you needed any more confirmation. "Off, C'mon."

You stiffen at his demand, your body going completely rigid at his bossy tone. You watch him stride into his bathroom. He pushes aside some stuff on the counter and tosses the kit onto the counter.

Okay, yeah. He has good reason to be upset. You had no business jumping from that rock.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he'd said before, right when he went to get you. And now you can see the anger still simmering beneath the surface.

You can hear him shuffle in the bathroom while you remove your dress. You still have your swimsuit on underneath, but you feel exposed without the extra layer. Maybe the pain is catching up to you or the fact that you have upset him or that he's waiting for you in the bathroom to take care of you but tears sting your eyes as you try to process the situation. You take a moment to collect yourself. You cannot go in there like this, he cannot see you this vulnerable. At least, not now.

He's braced against the counter, head hung low, when you push open the bathroom door. You nearly back out to give him some space or time to compose himself, but his eyes meet yours and his expression straightens. He clears his throat and then freezes. "I—you're wearing your swimsuit."

"I am. Were you expecting me to change into something else?"

"No," he grumbles, "I mean, nevermind."

He turns back and starts grabbing sterile gauze, his movements slightly jerky. He gestures for you to sit on the counter. "Up."

"I'm not sure I can do that given my—" Before you're done speaking, he scoops you up and sets you on the counter. Your hands are locked around his neck, and his are firmly gripping your waist. They fit perfectly there, like they're made to hold you close.

He reaches behind him, both your faces close together now, and grabs your wrists, pulling them away from his neck and onto your thighs. He puts a hand on your uninjured leg, his touch gentle yet firm. "This is going to hurt." You stare at his impossible blue eyes and think to yourself: yes, this is going to hurt.

"Oh, shit shit," you gasp, gripping his forearm. "Holy fuuuck."

"I've got you, breathe," he commands, and you allow yourself to focus on his voice, letting it ground you. The antiseptic burns both your nostrils and knee as he continues to clean the wound, the pain shooting through your leg causing you to clench your teeth.

"I'm sorry," you breathe out.

There's nothing but silence in response.

"I told you multiple times not to go up there," he finally says, his voice tinged with frustration. "And yet."

"I know," you whisper, feeling guilty.

"Don't do that again," he commands, his accent thickening with emotion. "You could've hurt yourself even more."

"I know," you repeat, not sure how else to respond.

His head is bowed in concentration as he finishes cleaning the wound, his hands steady despite the anger in his voice. You can see his dark eyelashes fluttering slightly as he works. He applies a little more pressure to the bandage than he should've, and you let out a soft moan. This doesn't go unnoticed by him.

The air in the room seems to shift. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see something soften in his gaze before he looks away.

"You're not supposed to like that."

Your cheeks heat up immediately.

He's gotten closer to you, your hands somehow made their way to fist his navy blue linen shirt. His body is between your legs, the delicate material of his pants brushing your skin. His breath is warm against your cheek as he leans in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't say I mind it either." Your heart races at his proximity, unsure of what to do next.

His hands slide up your thighs, gently caressing your skin, sending shivers down your spine. He's going to kiss you, and you can't help but wonder if it's the right decision to let him.

But now is not the time to be rational about it.

"I'm not gonna stop you," you say quietly, "I wouldn't know how."

His eyes darken, pupils dilating with desire. He doesn't move.

It's like you're both aware of the line you're about to cross, so neither of you moves.

You keep your eyes firmly on his face. His lips inch closer to yours, and you feel the heat of his breath on your skin. Your body is angled towards his, hand gripping the edge of the counter. Your slightly damp hair, now cold, making you shiver.

He's impossibly hard against you, the material of his pants is thin, and you're aware of every inch of him pressing against your throbbing core.

"And I wouldn’t know how to stop kissing you," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. He shifts slightly, causing his erection to press even more firmly against you, both letting out a soft moan. His mouth hovers just inches from yours, just kiss me, you thought.

There's a knock on the bedroom door, which is, by the way, open.

"Dad?" You both freeze.

The bathroom door is slightly ajar, offering a sliver of privacy but not enough to shield you from any potential interruptions.

"Yes?" Cillian calls out, trying to sound casual despite the intense moment that was just interrupted. "We're ordering takeout, do you want anything?"

"No, buddy, we're good, thanks," Cillian replies, his voice strained as he tries to keep his composure. You hear the steps retreating down the hallway.

Cillian steps back, and the absence of his body against yours is jarring. It clearly would've been a mistake to take this further, but a mistake that would've felt so fucking good.

"We shouldn't do this."

He clears his throat. "Yeah."

He moves towards the door, his movements tense and purposeful. "I'm gonna—" he says, motioning the door.

"Yeah," you quickly reply, "I got it."

You watch him leave, the air heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires.

a/n: thank you for reading! please share your thoughts with me, let me know if you guys enjoyed it :)

part two

[forlovvers]

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ can’t wait

pair: coworker!heeseung x f!reader | genre: office au, fluff, suggestive | warning(s): making out, skinskip, slight pining, alcohol consumption | wc: 1k | synopsis: in which lee heeseung is a very impatient man, especially when it comes to you.

lynne’s notez🗒️: why is he oiled up in ts pic bye #needthat

SAFE TO SAY, it’s awkward when you see heeseung the next day at work. you keep your head hung low as you do your best to avoid eye contact with him when you see him walk towards you. you notice he’s wearing the same suit as yesterday and his hair isn’t all nice and gelled down like it usually is.

not looking at him has its downsides because when you aren’t completely paying attention (probably due to your rapid heartbeat) you bump straight into him, sending your papers flying everywhere. immediately dropping to your knees, you begin to gather all of the strewn papers.

heeseung also bends down, hands reaching for the papers that flew the furtherest away. “i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to bump into you.” he says, a look of sincerity taking over his face. he absentmindedly hands back the papers as you both stand back up, his hands lingering over your skin a little longer than they should’ve.

when you finally look him in the eyes, images of last night materialize in your head.

you didn’t mean to go out that night. you didn’t mean to get tipsy and approach heeseung. and you definitely did not mean to end up in his car with his lips and hands all over you.

pulling away, you tilt your head back to give heeseung easier access to your neck and he wastes no time by placing frenzied kisses from your jaw and trailing down to your collarbones. “hee?” you say, your voice just above a whisper. he doesn’t respond fully, just a simple hum to acknowledge you as he’s a bit preoccupied with leaving small marks on your skin.

“heeseung,” you try again, and this time heeseung looks up at you with big, wet eyes full of adoration. you swear you melt further into him when he does this which is why your heart breaks just a little with what you’re about to say next. “this is a one time thing, okay?”

a momentary look of disappointment casts across his face but before you can even register it, his cocky demeanor is back. “can i change your mind?” he leans back further in the driver’s seat, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the sides of your hips as he holds you firmly.

you let out a small chuckle, your hands finding themselves entangling with his hair again. “probably not. you’d have to try really hard for me to change my mind.” you lean in closer to him and he smiles that smile that makes your stomach flip.

“good thing i’m a try-hard,” he says before finally closing the distance between you two.

“y/n? are you alright?” heeseung’s waving his hands in front of your face when you finally come back to earth. “did i bump into you that hard?”

“no— sorry, thanks for the help.” you say quickly, moving pass him and towards the copy room. you hope he doesn’t notice the blush blooming under your cheeks and the way you can barely hold eye contact with him.

“hey! wait up,” heeseung follows you into the copy room, and closes the door as quietly as he can without you noticing. you’re stood over the copy machine, eyes trained particularly hard on the papers in your hands and not him, which makes him feel just a bit more discouraged but he advances anyway.

“did you really want it to be a one-time thing?” he asks, his voiced laced with a certain sadness you can’t quite place.

your eyes go wide at the mention of last night, “can we not talk about that here?” you say harshly, refusing to look at him.

“why not?” heeseung shrugs nonchalantly, but his heart feels like its racing a million beats per minute. he starts helping you run the papers across the scanner as he realizes he doesn’t have your full attention and the only way to achieve it is to speed the work up.

“firstly, it’s unprofessional,” you let out an exasperated sigh before you continue. “and i don’t want to start something serious with a guy who won’t take me seriously.”

“what?” the shock in his voice is so incredulous it almost makes you laugh.

you finally drop the papers and look him in the eyes. “i overheard you and jake talking about how you can’t get over this one girl and no one else compares, no matter how many other girls your talk too and i just don’t want to be another rebound to you.” the silence eats away at you and you feel yourself shrinking under his gaze.

but to your surprise, heeseung starts laughing. how could he be laughing when you practically just confessed to him?

“y/n, for someone so smart, you can be a bit dense sometimes.” heeseung can’t suppress his smile as he laces his fingers with yours, tugging you closer. he leans down, his lips just above your ear, “you’re the girl i can’t get over.”

before you can even react, heeseung presses his lips to yours, and you almost immediately reciprocate by leaning in closer and placing your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss farther. he brings his hand up to cup your cheek as he slyly pushes his tongue passed your lips with no hesitation. you’re so lost in him that you almost don’t notice the door open.

as soon as jake understands what’s happening, he quickly walks back out, loudly shutting the door behind him without a word. you pull away, eyes wide at the thought of getting caught. “heeseung!” you whisper, slapping his shoulder lightly when he doesn’t let go of you. “you are going to get us both fired.” despite your words, there’s a small smile on your lips.

“‘m sorry love, can’t wait.” and he leans in again.

[dearru]

add up my love | ft. s.hinata

synopsis: after pining after you for what feels like a lifetime, hinata shoyo finally gets to experience the bliss that is waking up next to you.

pairing: ts!hinata shoyo x gn!reader | sfw | cw: kinda suggestive (waking up next to each other), slight manga spoilers | genre: fluff | wc: 946

Shoyo can’t believe his luck. Rolling over in bed, he’s greeted by the sweet— and slightly humorous— image of your sleeping figure. You look so peaceful like this, with your hair strewn across his threadbare pillowcase. The figure of the pillow you’re currently resting on is misshapen and wrinkled from the lack of care it’s received during his time abroad.

Last night, he had been embarrassed when you walked in and saw the disarray of his place. When he had imagined taking the person he’s been in love with since high school home, it hadn’t been to a bare and dusty room, but everything happened so fast last night, and he didn’t exactly have time to clean the place up for you. You hadn’t seemed to mind, though.

That was one of the things he liked most about you. How understanding and patient you always were.

Reminiscing on the past evening has his chest swelling with affection and excitement. He’s not sure he can contain his happiness for much longer.

“Are you up yet?” He whispers, trying his best to keep his voice level. In spite of his efforts, his voice penetrates the quiet hum that surrounds his room in a rather abrupt manner.

“Hm?” You murmur sleepily, which makes the spiker’s heartbeat speed up. The sound thrums in his ears, causing his face to heat up.

“I, um-“ He starts, nervous, “ Just asked if you’re up.”

You shift slightly, signaling that you’re still fighting sleepiness. Peeking out of one eye, you shoot Shoyo a soft smile before stretching your limbs slightly. The subtle action quickens his heartbeat, and a wide, unconscious smile spreads across his face. He can’t believe that he gets to experience you like this. A warm tenderness spreads through his body as he admires you further. You’re cute when you’re sleeping, and you’re even cuter when you’ve just woken up.

He may die from happiness.

“What’re you smiling at?” You hum, moving to rest your head on his chest. Shoyo’s sure you can hear the loud boom of his heart, but he’s decided he doesn’t care. All his cards are on the table now; he might as well play them. Blushing, he pulls you closer to him, doing his best to contain how elated he is at this moment.

You nuzzle your face into his chest, and he decides he’s definitely going to die.

Clearing his throat, he smiles down at you, his grin growing impossibly wider. He decides to take a chance when he picks up a piece of your hair and begins to play with it. The feeling of the lock between his fingers has him reveling in the intimacy of the moment. He thinks back to his time in Brazil when he opened up to Heitor about you. His beach volleyball partner had found it amusing— how hopelessly head over heels Shoyo was for you. He’ll have to text him as soon as he gets the chance.

“I asked what you’re smiling about.” You interrupt, poking his cheek playfully, eyes bright with mirth.

Shoyo considers his answer, trying to remember the tips Heitor had given him about how to speak to someone you’re interested in. Mind wandering, his eyes shift to the side of the room. He examines the shabby curtains and takes note of the morning light slipping through them. Maybe he’ll tell you he’s happy you’re here, or he’ll compliment you on how pretty you are. Did you like things like that? He hopes you do.

Before he can decide on an answer, his stomach grumbles loudly.

He freezes, slightly mortified, as the noise echoes through the room. He’s pretty sure Heitor never mentioned that loud stomach noises were a way to make himself more attractive to people.

“Hungry?” You laugh.

Breathing a sigh of relief at your amusement, he chuckles sheepishly, “I guess so.”

You sit up in bed, removing yourself from his grasp, and it’s all Shoyo can do to stop himself from pulling you back in again. Now that he’s experienced your warmth, he never wants to let go.

“You have food here? I can make us something,” You suggest, pushing a loose strand of hair back, bringing more attention to your face. Your position perfectly aligns with the sliver of sun that his curtains have allowed in. The ray of light shines down on you like you’re something out of a dream, which Shoyo figures isn’t half untrue.

Sitting up on his elbows, he shivers from the feeling of the covers slipping off and the cold air hitting his chest. While jarring, it’s a welcome feeling. It reminds him that he’s here and that he’s alive.

“I don’t think there’s much here,” He admits, rubbing the back of his neck, “I think I have, like, some chicken and protein shakes?” Cringing at the statement, he decides he’ll need to stop by the grocery store later today. He needs to be more prepared, especially if you’re going to be coming over more often.

Again, you laugh, looking down at him in adoration.

“I promise I usually have more. Back in Brazil, I-“ He tries to explain but is cut off by the feeling of your lips pressing against his. His breath catches, and electricity shoots through him. The scent of your shampoo is hypnotic. Eagerly, he tries to deepen the kiss, but you pull back before he can.

Staring at you in awe, he pouts at the sudden loss of feeling. You giggle and lay down on him again, “Let’s just stay here then. I like doing this.”

His heart swells once more, and he glances downward at you, smiling, “I like doing this too.”

[concreteburialplot]

Wallflower 🌸

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist: Here | Crossposted: ao3 | Word Count: 7.6k

Summary: Overwhelmed at your first college party, you catch the attention of the most popular guy in the room. Not only does he offer a comforting escape from the chaos, but he also provides a place to stay when your roommate kicks you out for a hookup.

Warnings: mutual pining, panic attacks, overstimulation, alcohol consumption, college parties, frat boy!danny lol, minor altercation / brief angry sam, hint of forbidden twin?, weed, one bed trope technically?, very soft, enchanted by TS vibes, eventual smut in future parts, 18+ MDNI

A/N; This is my first fic for gvf, pls be kind 🥲 - this is a work of fiction and does not reflect any members of the band or their real lives/actions/etc. - i hope you like it 🥲💞🌸

It was only your 3rd weekend away at university and your extremely extroverted roommate somehow talked you into a frat party. You followed Katie into a massive, bustling house illuminated only by strobe and neon lights. The air was thick and hazy with cigarette and marijuana smoke, making your nose scrunch up at the pungent smell. 

She pressed a gentle but firm hand on your back and nudged you forward, not realizing until then that you had been frozen in place.

Katie somehow managed to glide through the crowd effortlessly, skillfully maneuvering without bumping into anyone. She even asked someone for directions to the kitchen, to which they eagerly pointed out the way. It was so foreign to you, the concept of speaking to strangers and receiving such kindness in return so quickly. Perhaps it was her brighter face and friendlier persona that made the difference. 

Following the directions from a blonde girl wearing only a bikini, you made your way across the house into a surprisingly spacious kitchen. The room had an unconventional layout, resembling a triangle with an oddly-shaped island at its center. 

There were people scooting around the edges of the crowded kitchen trying to reach the liquor bottles and jell-o shots strewn across the counters. Surrounding the ample island were party goers all engaged in a rowdy conversation. You followed their focus to the one commanding their attention and landed on what could quite possibly be the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. Long brunette hair flowed past his shoulders and had a slight wave that framed his face perfectly. Even in the dim light of the kitchen you could make out the sharpness of his features. The air in your lungs seemed to vanish and your ears tuned out the booming laughter and thumping party music. Your chest swelled with a feeling of rampant heart rate and your stomach dropped into a flurry of butterflies. Suddenly, you felt even smaller and more out of place than you’d ever felt perhaps in your entire life.

Your life-of-the-party, sunshiney roommate wrapped her fingers around your wrist and dragged you to the group of people on the opposite side of the island, next to where the stunning man stood. She made it to a tall male in a t-shirt with cropped sleeves, large enough to show his ribs.

“Danny!” Katie exclaimed, getting his attention.

“Oh hey!” He smiled wide as he turned away from the counter to face her. “You made it!”

“Y/N this is Danny,” She gestured to the boy with dark curly hair that was tucked beneath a backwards cap, “I met him at the bookstore yesterday.”

You wondered what sort of magic Katie possessed that allowed her to make friends everywhere she went.

He kept a kind smile on his lips as he waved to you.

“Hey.” You sheepishly smiled and waved back to him.

Your roommate gestured back to you, “Danny this is Y/N.”

He gave you a soft grin before directing his attention back to your roommate. “Did you ever get your textbook situation figured out?”

The party had only grown more unruly in the short time you’d been there. You slunk into the background of the lively kitchen until your hips met the cold counter. You tugged at the pink top Katie had lent to you in an attempt to cover a bit more of your midsection. Not only had she persuaded you to party tonight, she also convinced you to borrow some of her clothes, since yours were too “casual comfy”. She managed to get you into a baby tee paired with a high-waisted white skirt paired with your usual white Converse. You didn’t necessarily feel exposed or vulnerable in the outfit, it was just not your preferred level of comfort.

Loud cheering rang through the house and even though you could tell it was from a distance, the loud sound still made you wince. Almost immediately afterwards, a clearly wasted man in a tank stop shoved his way past you, pushing you into the granite counter. The encounter caused you to tuck your crossed arms even tighter against your body. 

“Sam,” Danny spoke over the blaring music to the male that was keeping the group laughing to get his attention. “Sam,” He repeats, though the lanky boy was too caught up in whatever conversation he was in to notice. Danny gently tapped his shoulder which finally got the boy to look over at him. “I’m gonna go find Josh.” He nearly yelled over the music and thumbed over his shoulder towards the living room.

“Okay.” The male nodded in acknowledgment.

Just as his gaze fell from his friend, it landed on you. It was clear that he didn’t expect there to be anything to get his attention as he blinked to do a subtle double take. His eyes flickered over to his friends across from the geometric-shaped island. He snapped right back into the flowing banter like a puzzle piece. The ease of how swiftly he melted back into the conversation reminded you a lot of Katie and her magic socializing powers.

While Katie didn’t originally know the people beside you, it only took for her to ask them to pass the tequila for a friendship to be born and for you to have a mixed drink in your hand. You swirled the contents of your plastic red cup, watching as the ice cubes crashed into each other. It felt as though you’d faded into the background and became one with the cabinets and counters. You weren’t anywhere near as outgoing as her and you knew nobody else at the party. It was just you and the shitty alcoholic punch that was quickly getting watered down in your cup.

“Well, you sure look like you’re having fun.” Spoke a voice from beside you. It wasn’t until then that you realized you had zoned out. Your eyes snapped up to the now half-empty kitchen, and you wonder when it was that everyone cleared out, including your roommate. Finally, you followed the voice and trailed your eyes up to find the long-haired boy from before.

Your cheeks heated up and your gaze immediately dropped back down to your cup. “Oh um, yeah.” You forced a quick smile back up at him. “Having a great time.”

He let out a laugh that was more reminiscent of one someone would offer after a witty joke. “Well that was incredibly convincing.” He said sarcastically although his tone was light and playful.

You could feel the redness spreading on your cheeks getting caught in your (quite obvious) lie. “I just don’t know anyone here.” While it was the truth, it wasn’t exactly the whole reason you were miserable. “Except for my roommate, who,” You sighed and motioned towards where she had stood before. “Disappeared on me.” You let your arm fall to your side in utter defeat.

“Well, let’s fix that.” He said, holding out his hand. “Hi, I’m Sam, I’ve also been known to go by Sammy, Sammy Boy, whatever tickles your fancy really.” He grinned, big and wide, and most importantly, kind .

You offered a small, timid smile back before reaching out and slipping your hand into his. “Y/N.”

His smile only grew as he firmly grasped your hand and gave it a good, firm shake. “An honor to make your acquaintance.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle at all his eccentric verbiage. “Nice to meet you too, Sam.”

The alcohol must’ve been hitting your system more than you thought since you probably would’ve barely been able to speak a single word to this man if you had been sober.

“Is this your party?” You asked, trying to cover your bases before talking any more shit about the ensemble.

He laughed hard that time, “Me? In a fraternity? God no.” He shook his head and took a sip of his beer. “It seems like everyone ended up at this party, even you, Wallflower.” He offered a playful smile.

Your cheeks burned hot at the nickname even though it was meant to be comical. “Oh,” You chuckled nervously and your gaze fell back to your red cup. “Parties just aren’t my thing, my roommate just dragged me here.”

“What couldn’t you like about a party like this?” He stepped back and stretched his arms wide. If you weren’t mistaken, his tone sounded half facetious. He smiled then stepped back towards you. “Besides the god-awful music, of course.” He kept his grin as he took a sip from his beer bottle, a lime wedge clunking against the glass walls.

You chuckled at his theatrics, he was quickly becoming one of the most interesting people you’d ever met. “The music isn’t so bad, not really my taste but, it’s not the worst part.” You shrugged. “It’s mainly the people.” Your gaze followed past the boy, through the kitchen arch entrance into the living room where the hoard of college students danced and mingled. “Too many people.” 

“You sound like my brother Jake.” He laughed fondly. “He loves to party, but with the right people. That’s why he’s not up here. My other brother though,” He peeked over his shoulder at the party. “He’s in there somewhere having the time of his life right now.”

“And you?” You questioned, turning your face up to him. “Why aren’t you out there?”

The corners of his mouth turned up like it was the easiest thing in the world, like forming a smile was what he was born to do. “Well, because I’m talking to you, silly.” He stated as if it was obvious.

Heat rushed to your cheeks once more. “Oh, well I don’t wanna keep you from your friends.” You shook your head and tried to keep your eyes on him as you spoke but failed and your gaze fell back to the melting ice in your cup. “I’m sure they’re waiting for you.”

“I’m not in a rush.” He replied simply, keeping his focus earnestly on you. “I’m sure that I’m the last thing on their minds right now.” He joked.

“I suppose you’re probably right.” You chuckled and met his eyes.

Suddenly, a visibly wasted frat boy fashioned in a neon green tank top shoved his way between the both of you. The abrasive action not only shoved Sam backwards but also bumped into your cup splashing a bit of drink onto your shirt. You gasped at the unexpected force then hissed at the coldness now spreading across your skin. 

Sam set his beer down harshly on the island, hard enough for the glass clank to ring through the small space. “What the fuck man?” His tone was irritated but not quite angry yet, until his eyes noticed the blue alcohol bleeding across your baby pink top. 

The boy, who looked like his name was Kyle, drunkenly smirked at the remark, as if irritating Sam seemed like fun to him. “You should be thanking me for getting your girl wet.” 

You’d only known Sam all of maybe 30 minutes but you could tell he wasn’t one to pick fights, however you questioned that truth when you watched his brows lower at the male. He stepped towards him with a strongly pointed finger. “Really bold of you to be so disrespectful to someone who could easily get your ass kicked out of here.”

The boy scoffed at him, “Oh what are you gonna do, ban me from every party?” He asksd as if it’s a joke.

“That exactly.” Sam stated calmly though you could tell it was anger he was suppressing. “I know every fucker in this house, all I’ve gotta do is point you out, and boom,” He shrugged casually. “Say goodbye to every party of the year.”

It was obvious that the boy only half believed him but the threat of being exiled from the campus’ largest and most anticipated parties had his eyes widening. 

“That’s what I thought.” His arm swung towards the kitchen exit. “Now get the fuck out, and don’t let me see you again.”

He nodded quickly and sped out of the kitchen. When Sam’s gaze returned to you it quickly softened and his hands immediately found your arms to comfort you. “I’m so sorry.” He apologized even though it wasn’t his fault. His eyes landed on your chest though you knew it wasn’t disrespectful. “Here.” He swiftly pivoted behind you to snag the roll of paper towels, snapping off a few squares before dampening them in the metal sink beside you. He brought the dampened pieces and went to help clean your shirt but stopped himself before making contact. His chocolatey eyes snapped up to you with a look of apology. “May I?” 

You were stunned by everything that had just occurred so you just nodded. His touches were gentle, patting the colorful stain away. “I’m sorry that happened. I know you just said how you were already overwhelmed with everything.”

You sucked a breath in through your nose trying to steady your breathing, attempting to act normal even though the event overstimulated you enough to border a panic attack. “No it’s okay, I just-“ You closed your eyes and let your chest fall as you exhaled. “This stuff is just, it’s a lot.” You kept your focus off of him feeling somewhat ashamed of it. You’re in college, something so minor at a party shouldn’t bother you, right?

He paused his actions to glance up at you before returning to his work on your shirt. “Don’t apologize. Like I said, my older brother Jake doesn’t like crowds either.” He informed softly, taking extra care to not touch you too much or make you uncomfortable. “I’m used to this.” His shoulders pulled into a shrug. 

“Thanks.” You nodded, grateful for his kindness. You allowed a quiet fall between you as you focused on calming down. After a bit of him going back and forth with new paper towels with little success, you sighed looking down at the vibrant blue splotch. “It’s okay, it doesn’t look like it’s gonna come out.”

The edge of his mouth curved into a slight frown knowing that despite his best efforts, you were right. “I’m sorry.” He added the last used paper towel onto the pile beside you. “Hey, let me at least get you a fresh shirt.”

After cleaning up the mess of paper towels, he led you away from the crowd and upstairs to rows of ample bedrooms. 

“I thought you weren’t a part of this frat?” You asked as he went directly to a specific door. 

“I’m not,” He twisted the doorknob to a surprisingly empty bedroom. The rest of them seemed to be …preoccupied. The room looked like a stereotypical college dorm just in an elaborate fancy house. There were sports posters on each side of the walls above two separate beds, along with soccer and golf gear spread over the floor. It was surprisingly clean but you wondered if that was by design, if it was only clean because they anticipated having company tonight. Without turning the light on, Sam found his way to a wooden dresser and dug through it. You furrowed your brows in confused concern since he just informed you that this was in fact not his room. If you knew him better you’d scold him and ask what he was doing rifling through someone else’s belongings but you held your tongue in favor of curiosity. 

The moonlight peering through the window casted a sparkling light across his features. He seemed to glow, the light loved his smooth tan skin, the sharp edges of his face and the honey in his eyes. It felt wrong to ogle at him like he was some Greek sculpture but you couldn’t help it. He was just so beautiful .

You promptly averted your stare when he finally turned back to you and held out a folded shirt flat on two hands like a gift. “That guy your friend was talking to in the kitchen? That’s my best friend Danny.” He smiled fondly, evidently proud of his friendship. “He does live here and so I end up crashing here all the time so, I have some backup clothes.” He tilted his head to the shirt. “It’s clean, you can borrow it for the night if you want.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that crept up to your lips at his gesture. You gently took the rusty brown shirt and thanked him. He led you to the nearest empty bathroom for you to change.

Being alone in a bathroom at a party tended to be a great place to gauge where your head was at so, when you stood in front of the mirror and assessed yourself you noticed a couple things. You looked absolutely ridiculous with the giant blue splotch across your chest. There was a slight warm redness in your cheeks indicated that you were a little tipsy but not enough to numb your fingers or lips. And finally, a fluttering had made home in your tummy and a smitten grin kept threatening to creep across your lips. You wondered if the pink in your cheeks was truly the alcohol or something else entirely. 

After you changed into the borrowed shirt, you stepped out of the bathroom to find Sam leaning against the stairway railing mindlessly waiting for you. Once his eyes finally landed on you, the edges of his mouth tugging into a smooth and soft smile. “Ah, it looks great on you!” He exclaimed with an arm stretched out to his side before softly landing on your shoulder. 

The warmth in your cheeks worsened at his compliment, which you quickly tried to squash by telling yourself that he’s just being nice. “Thanks.” You replied in a voice smaller than you intended. 

If this had been any other night, with anyone else, you would’ve definitely already been on your way home by now, but you couldn’t possibly cheat yourself out of time with the most interesting person you’d ever met. Even so, the idea of going back to the chaos downstairs wasn’t appealing at all. 

Almost as if he could read your mind, he straightened up a bit like he’d just thought of an idea. “By chance, do you happen to play pool?”

Your brows furrowed and your head tilted slightly like a confused puppy. “Um, a little, a long time ago. I don’t really remember how though.”

His lips tugged into a wide smile. “Perfect! Let me show you something, follow me.”

Now, it wasn’t your brightest moment, letting a random boy at a party lead you downstairs into a basement but for whatever reason you trusted him. He was far too kind to be devious – besides, what sort of sinister person wears a cream-colored knit sweater to a frat party?

You followed him down some carpeted steps into a brick-lined basement. You looked around the room taking it in fully. While it was still busy with people, the atmosphere was much different. The music was softer, and the chatter wasn’t nearly as loud. The room was full of games, from pool tables to air hockey to darts and even some arcade games. It was accompanied by an espresso-colored leather couch and wooden bar stocked with what looked like every bottle of liquor imaginable. The basement was much more your speed than upstairs would ever be.

Sam must’ve noticed your amazement, giving you a tiny smirk. “Much better, isn’t it?”

“Worlds better.” You grinned up at him in gratitude, though a twinkle of fear sparked in your stomach at the thought that he may just leave you there to rejoin his friends upstairs.

That worry melted away when he was instantly greeted by nearly everyone in the room. You were beginning to learn that he had friends everywhere he went. The only one you recognized was Danny from earlier which surprised you since he seemed like the life of the party earlier and it was his party after all. Next to him stood a shorter boy with long brown hair somewhat reminiscent to Sam’s. In opposition to Sam’s sweater, this boy wore a button down held together only by the last two buttons before being tucked into his jeans. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow the long corded, crystal necklace that laid down his exposed chest. When you heard Sam’s voice beginning introductions, you blinked your eyes up to the mystery boy’s face only to find his eyes already on yours with a smirk. Your cheeks burned in hopes that neither of them noticed your wandering eyes. 

“Well you already met Danny, but this is my brother Jake.” Sam grinned introducing him. “Jake this is Y/N, Y/N this is Jake.” He gestured between you both. 

Jake smiled at you but you took note of the corner of his lip curling into another smirk. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He pulled the pool stick he was using off the table until he stood it up beside him holding it like a staff. 

“Hey.” Your lips tugged into a tightlipped smile as you tucked a loose piece of hair behind your ear before waving at him. 

Sam then grinned wide and clapped his hands together, startling you a bit. “Okay! Now you said that you don’t know how to play, right?”

“Not really, no.” You shook your head, stepping back to turn towards the vacant pool table parallel to the one Jake and Danny were playing on. Your eyes lingered on the green fabric table top and tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you realized that you absolutely did not remember how to play. 

Sam noticed your lingering apprehension and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, "Don't worry, it's easy! I'll walk you through it, Wallflower." He said the nickname in a playful manner, poking light fun at your timidness.

Out of the corner of your eye you caught Jake take note of the nickname and it made you wonder why - was it because it was clear why it was your nickname or the fact that Sam had already given you one?

He picked up a pool cue and handed it to you, demonstrating how to hold it properly. "First, you want to get your grip right. Hold it like this," he said, gently taking your hands and positioning them on the cue. His touch was soft but firm, and resembled electricity against your skin.

You tried to mimic his stance, but it felt awkward and unnatural. Sensing your struggle, Sam stepped closer, his chest barely brushing against your back. "Here, let me help you," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. His hands gently adjusted your grip and guided your arm into the correct position. "Now, keep your eye on the ball you're aiming for."

You nodded, trying to focus despite the buzzing in your stomach. Sam's presence was both comforting and extremely nerve-wracking. "Like this?" you asked, lining up your shot.

"Exactly," he confirmed with a large, prideful smile. "Now, just take a deep breath and strike."

You took a breath, steadying your nerves, and struck the cue ball. It rolled smoothly across the table, colliding with the intended target and sending it into a pocket. Your eyes widened in surprise and delight. "I did it!"

Sam laughed, clearly pleased with your success. "See? I told you it was easy."

As you and Sam continued to play, Jake wandered over, with a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "Hey Sam, I got a few pointers to give, don’t you mind?" he asked, already picking up a pool cue before the other answered. 

Sam’s tone and deadpanning glare made it obvious that he was used to but far too old for the competitive big brother behavior. "Alright, Jake, let's see what great pointers you got." Sam rolled his eyes already knowing where this was leading but stepped back with a good-natured chuckle to keep peace. 

Jake sauntered over, exuding a casual confidence with every step. While he and Sam both oozed confidence, they were much different in their own ways. Sam was self-assured in the way he could be the center of attention in any room by being solely his authentic self. Jake’s composed demeanor was different. He didn’t make himself the center of attention in the room, he just was - you’d barely been in the room 60 seconds before he captivated you.

Jake stood beside you, his presence more imposing than Sam's, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. "Alright, Y/N, let's see how you're holding that cue."

You showed him the way Sam had taught you hold, feeling slightly nervous under his intense gaze. He shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Nah, you've got it wrong. Here, let me show you."

He moved behind you, much like Sam had, but his approach was different. Jake's hands were firmer, his touch more assertive. He adjusted your grip with a practiced ease, his fingers lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "You need to be more confident with your shot," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Pool is as much about attitude as it is about skill."

Sam watched from a distance, his expression unreadable. You tried to focus on Jake's instructions, but his proximity was a bit overwhelming. "Like this?" you asked, adjusting your stance under his guidance.

"Exactly," Jake replied, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. The sensation alone had goosebumps erupt across your skin. "Now, don't hesitate. Just go for it."

You struck the cue ball, and it collided with the intended target, sending it into a pocket with a satisfying clink. Jake's grin widened. "See? Not bad at all."

You glanced over at Sam across the room, who surprisingly gave you a thumbs up, his smile genuine despite the shift in dynamic. "Nice shot, Y/N!" he called out.

Jake stepped back, leaning against the table with a satisfied look. "Alright, Sammy boy, she's all yours again," he said with a perpetual smirk and a wink in your direction.

Sam rejoined you, his demeanor as warm and patient as ever towards you but you caught him shooting a slight glare over at Jake. "Great job, Y/N. You did so good!" Even though Jake’s proximity had your heart thumping, you were happy to have Sam’s comforting presence back.

Blood rushed to your cheeks at the compliment, “Thanks.” You replied meekly. Between Sam being well, Sam, and Jake’s oddly competitive behavior, you had to admit that you were a tad overwhelmed with it all. Although, it wasn’t necessarily an entirely bad feeling just, a lot for someone who never went out all that much before. It was a lot and your social battery was quickly depleting.

You ended up finishing your rounds with Sam while Jake and Danny continued to play their own game. Every so often you found yourself peeking over at Jake who was cool and focused with a cigar perched between his fingers. 

Surprisingly, you won your game but wondered if Sam had let you win. Regardless of whether your success was genuine, it filled you with a rush of accomplishment. If the night hadn’t been so long already you might’ve even initiated another game, but the ache of sleep started to weigh heavy on your bones. 

You rounded the table with a smile wider than you’ve had in weeks, thinking that maybe college wouldn’t be as scary as you spent so much time stressing over. 

“Thanks for teaching me.” You used both hands to keep the cue in place while you leaned against it tiredly. 

“Ah, you were a great student.” He waved away your politeness. 

You blinked up at him, finally able to see his face clearly in the better lighting of the basement. He looked even more striking under the warm glow, the soft yellow light highlighting his beautifully sun-kissed skin. His features were defined, with sharp angles and a complexion so smooth it was almost unreal. But the most captivating part of him was undoubtedly his eyes. In that light, they were a mesmerizing shade of dark caramel brown, drawing you in and momentarily distracting you from everything else.

“Oh, um,” Blood rushed to your cheeks, turning them a deep pink. “I don’t think so, but I had a really good time.” For some reason the admission felt vulnerable. 

He smiled, “Well, I’m glad. I did too.”

You glanced over to the circular wall clock to find that it was well past 1 am. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t realize it was so late.” You sighed and met Sam’s gaze again. “I really should get going.”

“Oh,” He faltered a bit, “Did you need a ride? I’m sure I could find someone sober around here.” He twisted his body around to check the room for any candidates. 

You chuckled and shook your head, setting your cue on the pool table. “No it’s fine, I was just gonna walk.” 

“Oh, I can’t let you walk home alone! There’s creeps out there!” 

You mulled it over in your head and while you didn’t want to inconvenience him further, he had a point that hadn’t dawned on you yet. “Well, I wouldn’t wanna bother you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s no bother at all.” He gestured towards the exit upstairs. “You ready?” 

You nodded and followed him up the stairs. Despite it being so late the party still raged on and kept the house chaotically crowded. Before you could really process an escape route, Sam grabbed your hand and began weaving through the crowd. You knew it was just precautionary and in reality it didn’t mean anything, but the action still filled your tummy with rampant butterflies and your chest with rapid thumping. 

Once you were safely on the porch, he released your hand and looked down at you. “You okay?” His brows curved up in concern. 

“Yeah.” You nodded with a small smile. It was almost embarrassing how brave you felt after surviving a rowdy frat party. 

“Okay good.” The smile he gave you was so sincere it almost made your heart ache. “Which way we headin’?” 

“That way.” You pointed to the left where the freshman dorms were located. 

“Cool, I live that way too.” He hopped off the porch while you opted for the three steps down he had skipped. 

You were both grateful and disappointed for the fact of your dorm was rather close to the party. As much as you craved your bed, it meant the end of this night with him would come sooner and you weren’t sure you were ready for that just yet. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way but,” He prefaced a question, “Was that your first college party?” 

A gush of warm August wind washed over you, blowing your hair back. You let out an embarrassed chuckle, “Was it that obvious?” 

He let out a genuine laugh, “Not necessarily.” He lied, his shoulders pulling into a shrug. “Just a hunch.” He teased in a way you could tell wasn’t meant to be malicious. Even though he couldn’t relate, his words somehow sounded completely understanding. 

You fidgeted with your fingers since you didn’t have pockets in your borrowed skirt to shove them in. “You see, I have a history of being dragged to parties.” You joked even though you were exaggerating just a bit, only being ‘dragged’ to maybe 2 large high school parties, 3 if you count the one in middle school. You weren’t a stranger to alcohol or partying though, just preferred it in small, controlled settings with people you knew. “Like I said, I just don’t like strangers.”

“Well, strangers aren’t always bad.” He leaned a little in your direction with a raised brow. 

You giggled, “I guess you’re right.” And paused, “Afterall, I met Jake.” You pressed your lips together, trying to stifle a laugh at your own joke. 

He stopped dead in his tracks, turning to look at you with a completely deadpan expression and eyes filled with mock disapproval. The sheer dramatics of his reaction shattered your resolve, and you burst into laughter, throwing your head back.

“Ha-ha. Very funny,” he said, rolling his eyes with exaggerated exasperation, a playful smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m jokinggg!” You defended nudging his shoulder and felt better once his smile returned to his lips. 

You went to follow him once he resumed on the designated path but stopped short. “Hey, actually this is my dorm.”

He spun on his heels crunching the gravelly asphalt beneath his shoes and pointed up to the brick building. “You live in Lakewood Hall?” 

“Yeah?”

“I live in Lakewood too!” He exclaimed in a way you’d never seen someone be so excited over something so mundane. You were certain that he could probably find joy in just about anything life had to offer.

“Really? That’s cool. What floor?” You attempted to remain nonchalant about living in the same dorm as this wonderful man you thought you may never see again.

“3, you?” 

“Wait, same! How have I not seen you around?” You asked then began walking towards the keycard protected door. 

“I don’t know.” He said, “I guess maybe because like I said I spend most of my time at Danny’s?” As he spoke, he slipped his hand into his back pocket and pulled out a keycard. The door's light blinked green, and the lock clicked open, confirming that he did actually live there too.

Once on your floor, you headed to your door and felt your stomach drop when you spotted a dreaded sock on the handle of your door. Katie must’ve ended up with that tall tattooed boy you’d last seen her dancing with. You let out a defeated sigh, not knowing where else to go at this hour. 

Sam laughed and tilted his chin at your door. “Good for your roommate.” 

You shook your head, “Yeah good for her, not for me, I have nowhere to go now and it’s like 2 am.” Both anxiety and anger began to fizz in your chest.

“Hey, it’s no big deal, I’m just down the hall.” He pointed in the opposite direction of your room. “You can come chill with me. If you want.” He made it a point to add the last bit, not wanting to push you but definitely looking to spend more time with you. 

“Oh no, no.” You shook your head vehemently. “I’ve already bothered you enough tonight, I can’t possibly intrude on your bedtime.”

He laughed hard at that one, “It’s no big deal, I’m a night owl.”

“Well, I-”

He rolled his eyes playfully before getting behind you and grasping your shoulders gently pushing you down the hall. “I’m not leaving you out here alone all night.” 

As much as you wanted to protest, just about anything sounded better than sitting alone in the hall for god knows how long. 

Once he opened his door and flicked the light on, your eyes widened. It was so much different than Danny’s - most notably the smell. Before the door was even fully open you were smacked in the face with a mix of patchouli incense and weed, each one trying to cancel the other out. He closed the door behind you as you fully took it all in. Aside from the potent smell the first thing you noticed was the two beds pushed together, a clear indicator that he didn’t have a roommate. Next was the giant earth-toned mandala-patterned tapestry that hung above the beds while the wall across the room from it was covered in vintage records and posters of various artists. Unlike the sports gear in Danny’s room, Sam’s floor was littered with instruments, more than you’d ever seen in one room outside of a school band room. 

“Whoa.” Was all that managed to tumble from your lips. 

“Cool ain’t it?” He stretched his arms out wide with a proud grin. “Got this place all to myself.” 

“Lucky.” You muttered, still a bit salty you weren’t lying in your own bed right now. “You play all of these?” 

“Yup!” He plopped himself on his double bed. “I’d play something for you now, if it wasn’t so cliche.” He joked. 

You wanted to protest but you weren’t about to argue with the keeper of your temporary sanctuary. As you scanned the room once more you noticed a couple things - thumbtacks shoved into every decoration and the bong casually out on his bedside table next to a glass jar full of green. Your brows furrowed, “How do you get away with all this?” 

He shrugged with a cocky smile, “I know people.”

“I wish I knew people.” You replied sarcastically. 

“Well, ya do now.” The edges of his mouth pulled to a soft, kind grin. It was really beautiful the way his features always seemed to light up any time he smiled. 

“You’re right.” You agreed mischievously, walking over to where he sat. “I know Jake.”

His smile fell flat at your joke. “You think you’re so funny huh?”

You giggled, “Yeah, I do.” 

His eyes glanced up at your face and lingered there longer than he intended. Now it was his time to study you - not that he hadn’t already been doing that all night but now that you were alone together and he could properly take you in. He cleared his throat when you tilted your head a bit at his stare. 

“You wanna smoke?” He offered, gesturing to the glass bong that was poorly fashioned to look like a vase. 

You shook your head, “No thanks, I think the alcohol was enough for the night. But you can if you want, I don’t mind.” 

Although it was traditionally his bedtime routine, he didn’t mind skipping that night. “No I’m okay, I was just offerin’.” He tilted his head towards an expansive vinyl shelf. “You wanna pick somethin’ to play?” 

Normally, Sam was a show-and-tell sort of guy but he was interested in what you’d choose. 

You twisted around to the long row of stacked cubicles full of records. As you stepped closer to them and ran your fingers along the spines you noticed they were all weathered with tattered edges. Almost all of the records were older artists, some big names but also some you’d never heard of. You were tempted by the only modern one you spotted being Hozier but it was obvious he wasn’t a fan of newer music and you wondered if this was some sort of test. If it was a lighthearted test, the last thing you wanted to do was seem uncultured by picking the only modern artist you saw. You thought hard about a Fleetwood Mac record but instead, you opted for an Elvis one and spun around to showcase your pick. 

“An Elvis fan? Interesting.” He eyed you curiously. “Wouldn’t have initially pegged you for one. But I’m familiar with those too, Josh is a huge fan of the king.” He chuckled, pushing himself off the thin mattress to set it up on his record player. “May I?” He outstretched his hands to take the record from your grasp.

The truth was that your knowledge on music was quite limited to mostly newer artists, except for the names everyone knows. It made you wonder if there was a world that existed where he’d be the one to help you expand your musical palate. 

You shrugged, “I just like his music.” Then obliged to his request and handed the record over for him to take it gently. 

He carefully removed the black disc from the worn sleeve. “ ‘Aloha from Hawaii’ you know this is a live recording right?” He questioned as he spun the record by the edges with his fingertips.

You playfully rolled your eyes at how naive he assumed you’d be. You stumbled a bit in your turn towards the bed, the alcohol and fatigue starting to weigh you down. Finally, you reached the edge of the bed and plopped down. You watched as he precariously placed the record down and set the needle at its edge. It was a buzz at first before the grand orchestra intro broke through the silence like a punch. “Mhm, I do.” You hummed. “I love old live recordings. I think the banter with the audience is funny. Things were so different then.” 

He let out a small chuckle, “You’re so right actually.” He crossed the room to a mini fridge filled with what you saw a glimpse, just a bunch of drinks. “Water?” He plucked a fresh cold one out of the glaring white interior and held it out for you.

“Yes! Thank you!” You let out an excited sigh of relief as the alcohol and exertion had dried up your mouth. 

You snatched the water from his grasp and cracked it open before taking a greedy gulp. In the moment, that crisp cool water going down your throat felt like heaven. Your finger tapped your phone screen to illuminate it for the time, it was almost 3 am and you had no messages from your roommate. You sighed and flipped the phone upside down. “Nothing from Katie. Looks like I’m locked out of my room for the night. I don’t wanna intrude on whatever… is going on in there.” You’re focused on the water bottle in your hands, crinkling a bit with your fingers. “I can get out of your hair though, try to find a cheap motel or something.” You anxiously fiddled with your thumbs at the mere idea of doing that.

“Don’t worry about it, really. You can crash here, it’s not a problem.” He said, taking a sip of his own water. “You can even have my bed if you want, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Oh, oh absolutely not!” You protested, using your arm to slice through the air. 

“Then you don’t mind sleeping next to me?” His voice was smoother than silk and it made a buzz fall to your core. You were now regretting your decision to debate his offer. How on earth were you supposed to fall asleep in the same room as him nonetheless beside him. 

“Nope, don’t mind!” Your voice coming out squeakier than expected and it brought warmth to your cheeks. 

His brows furrowed and perked up a bit at your response before following it with a playful smirk, like he had picked up on your nervousness and found it flattering. “Alright then.” 

He pulled open a drawer from his oak dresser and pulled out a stack of clothes before making his way to the small bathroom. When he emerged, his top half was baring his tanned skin while long sweatpants rode low on his exposed hip bones. You couldn’t help your eyes from taking a glance over, then quickly diverting your gaze away to not be caught admiring him.

He tossed his dirty clothes into a half empty hamper and made his way to the bed. He crawled beside you on the other side of the bed, pulling the gray duvet up over his shoulders. Despite he kept his distance, you could still feel the warmth radiating off of him. Against your better judgement, when you finally sunk into the bed you laid facing him since you weren’t ready to knock out just yet. His sheets smelled like cologne, woodsy and herby, similar to the patchouli in the room but with some added notes of bergamot and cedar. 

You tucked your hands flat in a prayer position under your cheek, looking at him. His brown eyes were already on you, a hint of surprise in them at your chosen position to face him.

“Thanks for saving me today.” You said quietly, just then noticing that he’d kept the record playing softly in the background. 

“It’s no big deal, Wallflower.” He matched your gentle tone with a soft smile. As silly as the nickname was, it didn't stop the swelling in your chest and the flutter in your heart. 

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” You added genuinely. Even though you got abandoned at the party and locked out of your dorm, it had been the best night you’d had so far since the semester began. 

He chuckled softly, his eyes flickering to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "We'll have to do it again."

You mirrored his glance for a moment, then smiled up at him. "Yeah, I’d really like that."

A comfortable silence settled between you, filled only by the soft music playing in the background. The warmth of his presence and the cozy scent of his sheets made you feel safe and content.

Between the long night and the calmness he brought, your eyelids grow heavy. As you let your eyes give way to slumber, a smile lingered on your lips, the events of the night replaying in your mind. In this unexpected place and with this unexpected person, you found a sense of comfort you hadn't anticipated. And for the first time since starting college, you felt truly excited about what it might bring.

Next Chapter -> 02 - I Can See You

Taglist; @deathblacksmoke @sacredthefran @measuredingold @persuasivus @broken0mens

A/N; Thank you so much for reading! Lmk how you liked it and if you want a part 2 🫣

[edupunkn00b]

Morning Glories and Jade Slippers

Photo of morning glories by Gary Fultz, via Unsplash

Written for @tsspromptmonth's Sleepy Bean Fanfic Cafe for @doteddestroyer. Flower shop AU, Hanahaki's, and mutual pining. Rated: G - WC: 2691 - CW: one swear (and it's not Remus'), Hanahaki's, mutual pining -

Janus loathed mornings. Dawn was overrated, as was that heart-stuttering jolt he got from waking to an alarm. He hated rushing over his first cup of coffee, he despised dressing in the dark. And if Janus were in charge, morning showers would be outlawed.

Even so, even Janus had to admit there were certain benefits to arriving at the shop two hours before his oldest friend and business partner.

The streets downtown were practically empty and blissfully muted in the pre-dawn hours, and he never had to wait for his latte at the coffee house next door—the one blessedly already open each day when he arrived and pushed up the squealing iron gate protecting his and Logan's flower shop.

Getting in two hours early each day also meant he was guaranteed to be alone when, after being in the shop for precisely forty-seven minutes, he would have his morning coughing fit. The timing left him nearly an hour to clean himself up and clear away the indigo-colored morning glories he'd expelled before Logan might spot them and start to ask uncomfortable questions.

His early mornings, though, were not all upside.

Mindful of what it had taken to force his groggy head into this rigid wake schedule, Janus hadn't slept in for over four years. And consistently early mornings meant consistently early nights. Janus wasn't sure which was worse, his little brother's disappointment when he declined yet another movie marathon night. Or when he'd stopped asking altogether.

Most pertinently, though, arriving before Logan every day meant he also bore witness to his arrival each morning. Along with his husband's morning goodbye kiss.

"Say it again, Lo Lo," Remus had snickered, nuzzling against his cheek. From his perch atop the front counter, Remus had wrapped long, lanky arms and legs around Logan, pulling him close. His muscles bunched and stretched under his long-sleeved tee, strategically ripped, it seemed, to let his detailed octopus tattoos peek through. That or to give Logan a chance to trace deft fingers along the bared tanned skin, just as he did now.

"I cannot possibly imagine to what you are referring," Logan demurred, cheeks pink as his eyes darted over his husband's shoulder. Janus looked away before he could catch his eyes.

"Oh, Lo Lo," Remus said, voice lower. But not quite low enough to not be heard across the shop. "You know what I wanna hear."

"I will see you tonight, Meus," Logan murmured, voice rich and warm and rumbly.

Janus didn't look up from the peonies he was arranging for their first pick-up of the morning.

Remus had laughed, energetic bubbles bouncing around the room. "How much of me?" he'd countered.

"All of you," had been Logan's quiet response, his own laughter buzzing just under his words.

That had been last week.

Janus didn't know what spell Remus had cast on his formerly reserved best friend and partner—business partner, Janus' mind firmly clarified. But there were days when just the sound of their voices pulled him out of the rose chiller or out from the receiving room, a sunflower turning her face to the sun.

Grip so strong he feared he might warp the flower bucket before him, Janus gagged and choked. Finally, he coughed up a particularly large blossom. Finally able to suck in a lungful of air, he fell back, panting. Once he'd caught his breath—for now—he sat up, wiping his mouth. Never one to be overly squeamish, Janus peered inside the bucket.

It hadn't been one blossom caught in his throat, but two.

One was a familiar blue morning glory, velvet soft petals wet and wilted. Next to it, with bright green petals edged in blood, sat a Jade Slipper orchid.

"Well, fuck."

~

The following morning's sleet hid even the barest hint of dawn, leaving Janus fighting to resist his temptation to tick up the thermostat to try and make up for the lost imagined warmth. Instead, after he cleaned up from his coughing fit—taunted this time by nearly as many green orchids as morning glories—he pulled his gloves back on and worked to unload the new glass giftware they'd ordered.

For several weeks, customers had been asking for a greater variety of vases for custom arrangements and, after the third request in as many days, Logan had called Janus over the review his tracking sheet.

The man had a spreadsheet for everything.

Smiling, Janus had leaned over his shoulder for a better look at Logan's projections. His lungs filled with the scent of vanilla and cedar, Logan's cologne just strong enough to beat out the heavy fragrance of the roses Janus had been trimming. He inhaled deeply—and promptly choked.

Slapping a hand over his mouth, Janus fumbled in his pockets for a handkerchief.

"Jay?" Logan leapt to his feet and steadied him with a warm, firm hand on his arm. The unexpected touch burned through the silk of Janus' sleeve. "Do you need some water?" he asked, voice tight with worry.

Finally managing to pull one of his new black handkerchiefs from his vest pocket, Janus covered his face just in time to feel a petal behind his teeth. No. No, please no. Not here. Not now.

Still coughing, he shook his head. Tears pricked his eyes as he struggled to dislodge a bloom. He needed to get out of there. Janus stepped back, but Logan moved with him, one hand now gently gripping his arm while the other rubbed his back. "I—I'm here," he murmured, sounding uncharacteristically unsure even as his hand eased Janus' back spasm brought on by each cough. "It's alright, I—"

"Hello, Flower Boys!" Remus cried, backing through the front door. The aromas of garlic and butter and fresh bread came with him. "Anybody hung—" The bags rustled as they dropped to the floor and Remus was at his other side. "Shit, you okay, Jannie?"

Janus tried to nod but was wracked with another spell. Stars sparkled behind closed eyes and he stumbled. Caught between the two of them, Logan and Remus, they eased him down into Logan's chair. Handkerchief heavy and damp through the thick black cotton, Janus winced and crumpled it before shoving it in his trouser pocket. He found a second just in time before he coughed up one last blossom. Folding that one in his hand, he closed his fist tightly around it. Letting the chair—and Logan and Remus—support him, he fought to catch his breath.

He didn't dare look at what he'd coughed up.

"Thank you," he managed between slowly easing gasps. "I'm fine now," he lied, eyes closed. Up until now, he'd only coughed up actual petals in the morning or evening. But that was a worry for another time. He cracked open his eyes, two sets of concerned eyes looking back at him. Janus pressed on a smile, shakier than he would have liked. "Thank you," he said again, slowly regaining his awareness. 

Logan and Remus knelt on either side of him, Logan's hand on his knee. His thigh, really. Janus tried not to think about that. Remus' larger hand covered his where he still gripped the soiled handkerchief. The shop door was still ajar, held open by the large bag from Amante's down the street. That explained the garlic.

"I apologize, I'm delaying your lunch date." With great reluctance, he pulled his hand away from Remus' warm grip and shoved the other handkerchief into his pocket. Remus' hand lingered on his knee before finally dropping to his own side.

"Nah, Jannie, I…" He glanced over at Logan, thick mustache twitching over his lips. "I brought it for both, well, for all of us."

Logan's thumb brushed the crease in his trousers, very, very lightly. Janus was certain he wasn't even aware of it. "You are more than welcome to join us, Jay."

"Yeah, we wanna all eat together," Remus added, a bit of his usual grin returning.

"Only if you would like to. We've got tiramisu for dessert," Logan said quickly, giving his knee a little squeeze before looking down as though he just realized where his hand was. He folded his hands in his own lap.

Janus suppressed a shiver as his legs slowly cooled from the dual loss of contact. Ignoring that, Janus smiled. "You know my weakness," he teased.

The smile that bloomed over Logan's face put every flower in their shop to shame. He nodded to Remus, who stood and closed the door, setting the little 'We'll be back' clock for an hour. Grinning over his shoulder at him, he pushed it to two. "I'll do whatever I need to do to get the two of you to take a decent break."

"Rather hypocritical coming from you, Mister 'I Have a New Idea and I'll Sleep When I'm Dead.'" Arms crossed over this chest, Logan's voice was stern but his smile was not.

"Slander!" Remus laughed. Hefting up the bag, he returned to them and offered a hand to Logan to help him to his feet. "You see what I have to put up with?" he winked at Janus.

To Janus', surprise, Logan laughed and released Remus' hand to offer both to him. Without thinking, Janus wrapped his hands around Logan's and allowed himself to be helped to his feet.

One hand still gripping their lunch, Remus looped his arm around Logan's waist as he grinned back at Janus over the top of Logan's head. Message received, Janus nodded and dropped Logan's hands. Eyes on the floor, Janus smoothed down his vest. "Thank you. I'll set up in the back," he said, retreating to give the couple at least a few moments of privacy before their shared meal.

~

While mid-day coughing fits remained blessedly rare, Janus' evening spells were growing far, far worse. He now spent hours every night coughing up increasingly large blossoms and sharp, prickly stems. The black handkerchiefs had proved useful for disguising the increasing droplets of blood that accompanied them, and he soon switched out all of his sheets and towels to the same. Exhausted after a particularly bad spell, he collapsed on his bed, right on top of his covers, certain he needed just a moment to collect himself before properly preparing for sleep.

When Janus opened his eyes to his progressive alarm blaring and the buzz of his watch shaking his hand, he was afraid to see how long he'd overslept. The clock told him anyway. If he sped through his routine, he'd get to the shop only forty-five minutes late. Maybe it would still be okay.

That morning's coughing fit would not stop. He'd already coughed up more blossoms than he ever had before, the bright bright blue and green mocking him from the bottom of the bucket. Something large caught just below his vocal cords, his coughs turned silent as he heaved and fought to force it free.

Without the sound of his own coughs ringing in his ears, he clearly heard the sound of the shop's front door, along with Logan and Remus' soft, flirty laughter. "Jay?" Logan called. Two sets of footsteps grew louder on the other side of the backroom door as the edges of Janus' vision grew dark. He gasped for air, the tiniest trickle of oxygen making it past the obstruction.

The room tilted sideways just as the backroom door flung open.

"Jay!"

~

Janus woke up on the floor. Not directly on the cold floor. No, beneath him were several coats, his own as well as Logan's and even Remus' big wool great coat. He was sitting mostly upright, head and back supported. Something firm, something warm. Vanilla and cedarwood…

He looked up and into Logan's eyes. "Lo?" he said, voice raspy. "I…" He tried and failed to sit up.

Eyes sad, Logan curled his arm a little tighter, helping his sit up. He raised a small cup of water to his lips and quietly watched him drink. Janus finished and licked his lips. "Ready for more?" he asked.

Janus nodded and had half the next before shaking his head. Logan slowly lowered the cup but kept it close. The silence grew heavy between them. "Who are they for?" Logan finally murmured, jerking his chin toward the bucket.

He eyed the cup and Logan raised it up. Janus took a slow sip, then whispered into the cup. "They're for you, Lo." He pretended not to notice Logan's little gasp. "And your husband."

The hand holding the cup shook and Janus squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for his gentle rejection, waiting for his horror. Waiting for anything. One does not simply confess to one's married friends without… consequences. Logan tapped the cup to his lips again and, obediently, Janus sipped at it.

"How long, Jay?" he whispered.

Janus drank more of the water, delaying a response. He would run out soon.

He tried to sit up, but gravity—and the magnetic pull of Logan's warmth—was too much to fight and he lay back with a sigh. "Your morning glories started just before we opened the shop. The orchids…" He closed his eyes, face burning with shame. "Since last winter?"

"They're different for different people?" Remus sudden voice from the doorway sounded surprised. "Does that mean…"

Feigning confidence, Janus looked back at him. Dressed in a flower apron and holding a pair of stem shears, Remus' cheeks were red, eyes wide. Janus nodded and swallowed hard, triggering another little spell. Both Remus and Logan were at his sides. Remus kept the bucket and a soft cloth close, rubbing Janus' back as he hacked up more petals. And Logan held his hand.

Finally the coughing subsided. Sandwiched between them, Janus let them hold his weight. Just this once.

Remus broke the silence. "So you've been in love with Logan this whole time," he said more than asked. "And now me, too?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, eyes still closed.

"Oh, Jay," Logan sighed. "The only thing you should be sorry for is not telling us sooner. I can't believe this whole time, you—"

"I—" Janus' voice died before he could explain more. He hadn't even considered how uncomfortable they would feel finding out he'd been secretly harboring feelings. He'd thought he'd been sparing them. So focused on his own longing, it never even occurred to him they would feel like he'd been lying. "I… I am," he said, sitting up on his own. "I'm sorry. I'll… I'll go," he muttered and pushed himself up to his feet. The room spun around him but before he could fall, Logan and Remus were up, too, holding on to him.

"You dumbass," Remus said, pulling him close. "We love you, too." Logan moved in, one arm curled around his husband, the other around him. Blood roared in Janus' ears. He didn't just say that, did he?

"While that is not how I describe your mental acuity," Logan murmured and brushed a soft kiss against his temple. "Remus is correct. We both have strong and romantic feelings for you. Of course we love you, too, Jay."

"Really?" Janus studied Logan's eyes and then Remus'. They were serious. "How… How did I not…"

"How did we not?" Logan asked, filling in the rest of his question for him. "Come," he murmured as Remus dabbed at his face with a warm, wet cloth. "The shop is closed for the night. I think we have a lot to talk about. Would that be acceptable to you?" he asked, addressing both him and his husband.

"Hell yes!" Remus grinned back both of them. At Janus' little nod, they helped him to his feet and into his coat. Logan remained at his side, one arm curled around his back as he walked on unsteady feet. Remus moved ahead, holding doors and shutting off the shop's lights.

Janus watched as Remus pulled down the gate then switched positions, supporting him as Logan crouched down turned the gate locks. He stood and offered Janus his hand.

Hand in hand in hand, they walked back to Logan and Remus' car and on toward whatever came next.

[astralnymphh]

"this songs' pretty good, like you got some fuckin' good taste." casually, and you reply monotone, "eh, ts' not really my favorite—", ellie instantly clears up, "yeah, it's not thaat great— like the, um— strings sound a bit awkward and the beat it's— yeah ll' just stop talkin'.

-this part but you and ellie are best friends and are secretly pining for each other, when you leave her little garage she just goes “STUPID STUPID STUPID” while banging her head against the wall

LMAOO and then you see her the next day in the mess hall for lunch and she's got a fat purple wad on her forehead that she attempted to conceal with like her bangs but failed obv. ended up looking like the emo side bangs tbh.

[tsspromptmonth]

Hiiiii

I would LOVE a boba with starfruit/loganberry syrups, 2% Milk, with some chocolate shavings on top please!

(Hopefully I ordered this right- Janus/Logan, in Space with mural pining. Hurt/Comfort as the tone)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49033990/chapters/123706915

Here’s the fic I read, Ribbons and Rainbows by the beloved Ended_Flames!

Thank you all so much!!

Order Up!

Androids Are Made for War, Not Feelings by @thecrowslullaby