#Cinnamon rolls are getting ordered Thursday | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shallyne · 11 months

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And the first night that you saw me I knew I wanted your body

Hello! This is my fic for the Feysand Writing Circle and my angst fic that I promised y'all of we reach a certain follower milestone. I hope you enjoy! Please heed the trigger warnings

Words: 7,088

TW: graphic mentions of violence, explicit sexual content, murder, serial killer, arson, blood, torture, mentions of domestic abuse, trauma, mental breakdown, mention of a panic attack, THIS FIC IS DARK

Feyre is a serial killer, Rhys is an arsonist. Feyre thinks Rhys seeks proximity to piss her off but their life's are more intertwined than she expected.

It was a beautiful Thursday morning. The sun was shining, the sky was clear of any clouds and it was comfortably warm. Feyre opened the windows wide, letting a wind breeze ruffle through her hair before she went to the bathroom to get ready. She quickly showered, dried herself off and slipped into a beautiful lilac dress. The one without blood splatters. She left her window open as she got her purse and her keys, and left the house. It was a beautiful house she lived in. Painted blue with white shutters and a wrap-around porch. Hopping down the three steps from her porch, she walked through her front yard past all the beautiful flowers she had planted over the three years she was living here. A quick look into her mailbox told her that it was empty, so she opened the gate of her white picket fence and stepped into the street, waving at her neighbor Stryga who was eating breakfast on her porch, she nodded back in greeting. Feyre didn't use her car, she never did when she went into town. It was only a matter of a few minutes by foot until she reached the cute Café with the pink exterior. Smiling brightly, she ordered her usual. A coffee and a cinnamon roll and took a seat.

As the older lady brought Feyre her breakfast, her eyes went sad. "Did you hear about Polina? That poor girl went missing a couple of days ago. Her family is out of their mind worrying about her. I pray for her safe return." the old woman shook her head sadly.

Feyre put a hand over her heart, "I can't imagine what they must be going through. That's horrible. I am sure she will get back soon."

The woman nodded and sighed as she looked back to the counter where the next customer waited, "I have to go back to work, sweetheart. Enjoy your breakfast." she told Feyre, squeezing her shoulder.

As the lady turned her back towards Feyre, she had to suppress a smile, taking a sip of the delicious coffee. It would be a miracle if Polina came back as she was buried deep in Feyre's backyard.

As the morning went on, customers came and left while Feyre took her time to savor the taste of her coffee and the cinnamon roll. Her eyes found another customer across from her, an old man, who read the newspaper. Her eyes were fixed on the front page with the news of a house fire. No survivors. Feyre rolled her eyes, that was Rhysand’s doing no doubt. While Feyre preferred to use her own hands to kill, seeing the eyes leave her victims eyes, Rhysand preferred to not get his pretty hands dirty.

She hated him. Despised that man with a burning passion. They had met about two years ago, while they both were on their way to dispose of bodies. He looked impeccable, of course, not a hair out place while Feyre was bloody and sweating. She remembered that she wasn't scared, she knew he wouldn't uncover her because he was doing the same thing as her but even the possibility of him exposing her to the cops sent a thrill through her. Feyre had expected that they would go on with their lives, ignoring the other, until he smirked at her and from that day on he stole Feyre's kills, just because he could. He also started to get rid of his own victims near Feyre, showing her that he was always close. This fire was no doubt no different.

Her eyes strayed back to the newspaper, then to the clock that hung above one of the coffee makers and sighed. It was nine in the morning but maybe she should pay Rhysand a visit right now. Yes, that sounded like a good idea. Feyre retrieved her purse and left the money on the table, including a generous tip.

If it wasn't for the newspaper article, she hadn't known for sure that Rhys would reside in his residence at the outskirts of the city but for some reason that Feyre wasn't aware of, Rhys liked to stay here shortly after his murders.

It wasn't hard to find his house, while all of the neighboring houses were painted some color of the rainbow, Rhys's was painted black. Fixing the strap of the purse on her shoulder, she opened the black metal gate and walked the pathway up to his house. Her brows scrunched in confusion when she reached the front door, which was ajar. Careful not to make a sound she opened it and went inside on silent feed. A crashing sound came from her side, Feyre followed that sound, into the kitchen. It was empty to her right, where the dining table sat in front of floor to ceiling windows that let the morning light in. To her right stood a muscular man with golden hair. Hair that was familiar to Feyre and not familiar at all. For a second her spine locked as she thought her ex-boyfriend Tamlin was standing there but the tattoo on his bicep told Feyre that it was his brother. On the opposite wall of him was a big, red spot but Feyre quickly realized that it wasn't blood. It seemed like some kind of…sauce. A deep groan brought Feyre back to the scene, Rhysand's deep groan. Tamlin’s brother looked down, he was grimacing if Feyre made it out right from her point of view. Every thought eddied from Feyre's mind as the guy spoke, "You're a dead man, Rhysand."

Feyre felt her stomach clench and a wave of possessiveness hit her so strong that she grit her teeth so hard she was worried they would crack. You're a dead man, Rhysand. Feyre's hand shook from anger, he would not take her kill. Never. She would never let that happen. His back was to Feyre, he was so deep in his hatred that he didn't hear Feyre sneaking up behind him. He was so deep in his hatred that when he raised his gun, he didn't hear Feyre draw the knife out from the knife block. Tamlin’s brother was towering over her but that had never scared her. In a quick maneuver she grabbed his hair, pulled him down to her and slit his exposed throat before he could even tighten the grip on his gun. Feyre kicked the gun away that he let go of as he fell to the floor, gasping for air and grasping his own throat as he choked on his blood. Feyre would have been delighted to rip his head off but she stepped over him, letting her eyes finally wander to Rhys.

He propped himself up on one elbow, squinting up at Feyre before his eyes went wide. He had a wound on his temple, blood running down his cheek, to his jaw way down to his exposed chest. Rhys wasn't wearing a shirt, just a pair of black sweatpants. Feyre let her eyes only roam over his abs for a moment before she locked eyes with him again and if she didn't know better, she could have sworn that his breath hitched.

Sighing, she put her purse on the kitchen island and walked over to him, bending down to snake an arm around his waist. Rhys slightly slumped, so Feyre said, "Don't sleep yet, be cooperative."

He groaned as Feyre helped him up, supporting his weight on Feyre as she brought him up to his bedroom. Slowly, she helped him lower himself on his bed, "Stay here." she told him.

Rhys closed his eyes as he slumped into his pillows, the only response a silent, "Mhm." which was good enough for her. She went into his bathroom, sighing through his cabinets until she found a small first aid box and held a cloth under warm water until it was soaked. Wringing it out, she took the stuff and went back to Rhys and sat down on the edge of the bed beside him. Fortunately, he was already asleep so he would shut his mouth as Feyre looked at his wound. It wasn't bad. He would probably have a headache for a few days but that would be the worst of it.

Softly, she wiped away the blood from his temple and then applied the salve from the kit, followed by the bandaid she put on the wound with familiar precision. Feyre's finger accidentally brushed Rhys's jaw, leaving blood on her finger tap. She watched Rhys, watching his chest raising and lowering as she slowly raised her finger to her mouth, licking the blood away. Ignoring the way her heart beat faster, she took the cloth again and wiped away the blood on his cheek down to his chest. Rhys didn't stir once.

She put the first aid kit back and left Rhys's bedroom. On her quest to find something like a tarp, questions flooded her mind. What was Tamlin’s brother doing here? It can't be because of some unfinished business with Tamlin, he died a long time ago, which was Feyre's doing of course, and he would have come much sooner if it was business. Although trying to find any logic concerning this family would probably end up nowhere with a big, fat headache. It had to be something personal then. But why did Rhys not fight back? Tamlin’s brother didn't have any bruises and Rhys was better than that, Feyre knew it. Finally finding a plastic sheet which was big enough, she went back to the kitchen. Grunting as she rolled his heavy body on it and wrapped him in, Feyre remembered that Tamlins told her about his brother who suffered from psychosis. It made sense, she supposed, if he thought he counted one and one together and blamed Rhys for Tamlin's missing, but in his case the result was three. Sighing, she opened the pantry door and pulled the body inside, waiting until nightfall to bury him.

She then continued to clean Rhys's kitchen, getting rid of the pool of blood on the floor and the nasty spot on the wall. At least she was right, it was sauce.

Done with cleaning, Feyre washed her hands one, two, three times before she went upstairs again to look after Rhys. He was still fast asleep as she stalked closer, taking a seat at the edge of the bed again as before. Her head tilted to the side as she watched him. His face looked relaxed for once, peaceful even. Everytime she saw Rhys there was always something tense about him, as if he was wearing a mask. Now he looked anything but, he looked vulnerable and Feyre didn't know how she felt about that.

As Feyre's hands moved to Rhys's chest, she shook off all the feelings besides anger and hatred. There wasn't any place to be confused, she had made her choice a long time ago and there was no turning back. She could feel Rhys's heartbeat below her fingertips, counting it for a few silent minutes until she let her finger drift downward, from his chest over his stomach, imagining to cut him open someday. Yes, one day when they were done playing their games she would.

Suddenly, Rhysand's hand moved to rest right above Feyre's. Surprised she looked up at him, to find his eyes deep blue, almost violet, eyes fixed on her. His fingers tightened on her hand, "Why?" he croaked.

Feyre patted his cheek with her free hand. "I figured you don't have the guts, Mr. watching-from-a-distance." She put on a fake grin but Rhys just kept staring, so intensely that Feyre had to look at the wall behind him, out of the window. Still, she felt his gaze on her. Something snapped in Feyre when she looked at him again, their gazes locking. She leaned forward, so close that she could feel his breath on her lips, never breaking his stare, and told him honestly, "You're mine." he made a move to lean back but Feyre cupped his face in her hand, "You're my death to claim, Rhysand and I will get rid of anyone who even tries to lay a hand on you. Someday you will die and it will be by my hands." her voice turned to a growl towards the end. Rhys's eyes softened which made Feyre lean away. "Stop looking at me like that, I just threatened you." he didn't answer, only tightening his grip more. Feyre rolled her eyes, "Why didn't you fight back?"

Rhys dragged a hand through his raven black hair, finally looking away, "He sneaked up on me. I was…distracted."

"Distracted with what?" she asked. This was unusual, Rhys wasn't one to get easily distracted. He was aware of his surroundings like no other.

Rhys was silent for a few moments, "The fire." at Feyre's confused look he told her, "I usually make sure that just specific people are inside but…a servant died."

"What?" Feyre snorted. "Since when do you care about who dies?"

He let go of her hand and abruptly sat up, watching her. His eyes roved over her a few times, as if he's trying to solve a riddle. Then he cocked his head, a lock of his hair falling into his face, "You never figured it out?"

"Figured what out?"

Rhys shook his head, standing up. Feyre echoed that movement. He didn't look back as he walked to the bathroom, "Thank you for…helping me. I can manage alone now."

Feyre blinked, baffled. "Do you need help with the body?"

"I'll take care of it later. Enjoy your day." he said, closing the door.

Confused, Feyre stood there for a few moments listening to the running water in the bathroom. Then she walked out, taking her purse from the kitchen and left. What did he mean? What should she have figured out? Why did he care? Did he now act like he had a conscience? It would be nothing but a lie, they were both monsters. They would both go to hell, he isn't better than her. Why was he so cryptic all of a sudden? What changed? And why did he look at her like that? They never gave each other looks beyond recognition or anger or hatred but something was different today. She didn't know. Maybe it was his head. Yes, that's plausible. He got a hit to the head, he'd be fine soon.

She didn't realize that she went home until she stood at the front door. Shaking her head, she opened it and hung her purse on the coat rack and pulled off her shoes.

Her curiosity won and took the better of her as she retrieved her laptop and started searching. She pulled any of Rhys's cases in different tabs, trying to find similarities. Something they all had in common.

It took Feyre hours, it was late into the afternoon and she still didn't have a clue what Rhysand meant. The only thing that tied the cases together was fire. Rhys committed arson every single time but Feyre couldn't come up with a clue why fire would be relevant to Rhys, or her. As far as she knew he didn't have any history with fire before he started committing arson.

Rubbing her eyes, she stood up and walked to the kitchen, taking her laptop with her and placing it on the counter as she made herself tea. She was thinking but nothing made sense to her.

As she waited for her tea to cool down a little, her eyes flicked to the tab on her laptop again and fixed on a detail that she hadn't seen before. There was a picture in that article from the house that burned down and Feyre could see a playground in the back. Memories long buried down bubbled up again, as a headache started forming behind her eyes.

She couldn't remember how old she was but she could remember visiting that playground and there was a guy, taller, bulkier and definitely older than Feyre who had pushed her around. No one had helped her, not her mother who had looked away, not that boy's parents, who had only laughed at his antics. Feyre pressed her face in her hands, what was his name? Andras. Yes, his name was Andras. Feyre scrolled down until she found it. Oscar Flores, Edith Flores and Andras Flores died in the fire.

She opened the next tab, another fire that was undeniably Rhysands doing. A castle on an island in the west burned down, Brannagh and Dagdan Hybern died in that fire. Feyre grimaced at the memory of the twins, she was fourteen when she caught them making out in a storage closet. They had threatened her if she would tell anyone. She quickly opened the next tab, trying to forget this moment again before she threw up. She had buried that memory, glad to have forgotten about it. The next house she knew the best, having spent months like a prisoner on these grounds. A few months after Tamlin went missing, Rhysand had their whole grounds on fire. She remembered how she huffed when she read a newspaper article about that, shaking it off as one of Rhysands tantrums. Then she opened the newest article, a fire at the Vanserra estate. Beron Vanserra and his sons Silas Vanserra, Fallon Vanserra, Ash Vanserra and Eris Vanserra died in that fire, as well as their maid Alis Suvi. The brothers had followed her one winter evening on the order of their father because she had accidentally crossed their lands, Feyre had killed two brothers about half a year after that incident, Rhysand apparently had taken care of the rest of the family, except the youngest and the mother. Alis must be the servant that he hadn't expected to be there.

Feyre didn't need to look through the other cases, she knew what tied all these cases together. It was her. Rhysand had killed everyone who ever did her wrong. A weird flutter spread in her stomach area, a warmth spreading in her lower belly. No, that can't be. She doesn't feel anything. Feyre took a pack of crackers, ripped it open and stuffed it in her mouth, she was just hungry. That's the weird feeling in her belly. And the stress made her pulse race, her face flush. Hunger. Stress.

Is it? Or do you not hate Rhysand as much as you tell yourself?

"No!" she screamed, throwing the nearest object against the wall and covered her ears with a whimper. She wasn't made for these feelings. She was made to feel hatred, to feel rage. That's her sole reason to keep going. She was made to get revenge, she was made to be sure people around her would feel that same hatred at this goddamn world, at the universe, at god. It was the only reason that kept her going. Something wet dripped on her arm, Feyre looked up in confusion but it didn't come from above her. Slowly, she raised her hand to her face, feeling her wet cheek. Was she…crying? Impossible. She hadn't cried since she was thirteen years old. No, she shouldn't, she couldn't cry. She left that part of her in the past. Slow, so slow, she let herself slide down until she was laying on the floor. Sobs wrecking through her, tears staining her cheeks.

Feyre didn't know how long she lay there, it must have been a while because since late afternoon it had already turned dark outside.

Swallowing, she pushed herself up, her legs suddenly feeling weak. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't develop feelings for Rhysand. Long ago, she had built a thick wall around herself, protecting her from these feelings, because she was a monster. A beast, undeserving of love, as her mother had told her. Feyre had proven her mother right, she became a monster.

Not realizing she walked towards the door, her thoughts overcoming her like a storm. She killed for fun, didn't she? She didn't have a pattern, she thought as her feet led her in the direction of Rhysands house. Or did she have a pattern? Anger. But what ignited her anger? It was definitely different forms of anger that had driven her to kill Tamlin and the anger that had driven her to kill Polina. Tamlin had raised his hand one too many times when Feyre finally had snapped but with Polina…it was jealousy. Polina had a family that loved her, siblings that cared for each other, parents that were proud of her. She had the life Feyre wanted. Feyre could still feel the tears threatening to spill when she came to a sudden stop. There was a bar on the way to Rhysands house and his car was parked in front of it. What was he doing here? Did he already get rid of the body? Feyre wished she had looked at the clock before she left because she didn't have a clue about the time, it was definitely after ten.

Wiping over her face, she walked towards the bar, didn't pay any mind to drunks and entered. The bar was relatively dark, most of the interior was wood and the yellow lights didn't do much to lighten up the space. It wasn't as full as it would have been on a Friday evening but there were definitely enough people that Feyre had to scan the crowd until she found Rhys. He was leaning on a wall near the bar, talking to a blonde. Feyre froze in the middle of the bar, her hands starting to shake with rage and her breath catching when she put a hand on his biceps. Mine.

Feyre followed a big guy that was talking in their direction, a beer in his hand, and when he was close enough to the blonde, she pushed him. She bit down a smile when she heard a female yelp, followed by cursing but she already walked to the bathroom, hiding in a stall until she heard heeled steps closing in. After a few moments of rustling, Feyre left the stall, smiling at the woman. "Oh dear, what happened to your coat?" she asked sweetly, pointing to the big stain.

She smiled tightly, "Some idiot walked into me with his beer." she shook her head, "And then he had the audacity to tell me he was pushed."

Feyre rolled her eyes as she washed her hands, "Men." she huffed, turning around quickly, pushing the woman's purse from the counter. "Oh lord! Keep scrubbing your coat, I'll pick that up for you."

"It just doesn't seem to be my day." she said. Feyre rolled her eyes again, this time it was real annoyance. It will most likely be your last, whore, she thought as she slipped her wallet into the pocket of her dress and gave it back to the woman.

"We all have bad days," Feyre smiled. "Have a nice evening."

"I will," the woman said, her blue eyes shining. "I won't go home alone."

Feyre stiffened but forced a chuckle, restraining herself from choking the woman, "Good for you." she said and left the bathroom, squeezing into an alcove as she pulled out the wallet and looked at the woman's ID. Ianthe Arden. Feyre snorted as she threw her wallet in the trash. Count your time, Ianthe.

Rhysand

Rhys quickly ascended the stairs of Feyre's porch, taking two at a time. Feyre had called him a few minutes ago, telling him to come to her house immediately but she hadn't deemed to elaborate why. Her words seemed like she was in a rush but her tone was calmer than ever. He reached the door, which was already ajar. He started to panic but took a deep breath before he called out, "Feyre?"

He entered the house, closing the door behind him. She wasn't in the living room to the left, so he walked to the kitchen on his right. The tiles were checkered, black and white, the other colors kept in pastels. It was fitting and absolutely not fitting for Feyre at the same time. This was her mask. Rhys looked to the white door beside the kitchen counter, also ajar like the front door. "Feyre?" he echoed.

"Come down!" she chirped happily. Rhys stopped, for only a second, as goosebumps erupted over his skin. Something wasn't right. Maybe he was too sure that she wouldn't kill him? This was probably a trap. Rhys looked to the kitchen door, debating whether to run, then looked at the white door in front of him. Shaking his head, he grabbed the doorknob. They had played this game hundreds of times and if he would die at her hands today, so be it. Descending the stairs, he entered Feyre's basement. Stopping immediately as he sees her standing in the middle of the room, behind a chair where a woman sat.

Rhys blinked, that was the woman who had hit on him at the bar. How did Feyre know about her? Was she there? Rhys looked down at the woman, who stared at him with pleading eyes. Feyre had taped her mouth shut and tied her to a chair with rope. The woman tried to scream but it only came out muffled.

Rhys then locked eyes with Feyre. How had she found her? Did she know that she had cornered him at the bar? Did she know that he had left as soon as she went to the bathroom? According to the hatred that was written in her eyes, he'd bet she didn't know, but it wouldn't change anything either. Once Feyre Archeron made a decision, she didn't back down. "What is this?"

Feyres hands stroked over the woman's blond hair, "You and dear Ianthe seemed to have a lot of fun yesterday." she said, her eyes never leaving Rhys's.

He crossed his arms, "I hate to disappoint you but I wouldn't call it fun."

She cocked her head, her hands continuing to stroke over Ianthes hair. "I see." she said, her hands sliding down and fumbling with the rope. One of Ianthes hands flew to her mouth, ripping off the tape as tears slid down her cheeks, "Help-"

Feyre wordlessly slapped her hand away and put the tape over her mouth again, then gripped her hand. "I was there, you know?" She told Rhys. "When she touched your arm." she tapped Ianthes hand. Rhys swallowed when he realized what was about to do. She held Ianthes pointer finger in a steel grip as she started thrashing and whimpering and faster than Rhys could react, she had cut Ianthe's finger off.

"Feyre-"

Feyre's stare turned icy, rage simmering in those magnificent blue-gray eyes. "You watch, Rhysand, and see what happens when someone touches what's mine." she hissed, not looking down as she severed another finger.

Rhys wasn't frightened but his stomach churned at what he was witnessing. He had killed but never like that. But still he couldn't hate her, he could never hate Feyre. Whatever that said about him, he didn't know, but he liked it when she was possessive. He would lie if he said it wouldn't turn him on. He loved it when Feyre said he was hers.

Their gazes stayed locked as Feyre kept repeating it finger by finger and in her own twisted way, he saw affection glinting in her eyes.

The whole hand followed. Feyre smiled smugly. As Rhys was drowning out the sounds of Ianthe's whimpering, she seemed to enjoy it.

They stayed there for hours as Feyre kept torturing Ianthe and in these hours something between them changed. To some it would sound ridiculous but he felt like there was a bond between them, a golden thread binding them together.

Something changed when Feyre made the killing blow as she stared into Rhys's eyes.

Feyre

It seemed like Feyre was lighter, she was practically floating as Rhys and she walked through the forest at midnight, Rhys carrying the plastic bag as Feyre held the flashlight and her shovel.

"I don't think you have the right to judge me for setting these fires." Rhys broke the silence. Feyre had something like that slip on their drive here, but fortunately she shut her mouth before she could tell him that she knew why he set them. "You are the one with a torture dungeon!"

Feyre growled, the deep sound reverberating through the small tunnel they were walking through to get to the other side of the crossing. "I do not have a torture dungeon!" she snapped, shifting the position of the flashlight in her hand. "I have a basement!" she corrected, adding after a few seconds of silence, "With a few tools."

Snorting, Rhys stepped over a mud puddle, "Twist it however you want, you're still a hypocrite."

She was seething and debating for the twenty-seventh time this night to just take the shovel and ram it into his disgustingly beautiful face. "How about I go back and you can do this bullshit alone?" Rhys stiffened in front of her but kept quiet so Feyre said, "Don't mistake this for some kind of twisted friendship, Rhysand. I wouldn't care if some kind of bear jumps out of these bushes, slices up your stomach," It would be a shame for these abs, though, "and slurps your intestines like a bowl of spaghetti."

Rhys's shoulders shook. Was he laughing at her? Instinctively Feyre raised her shovel but took a deep breath and lowered it again, smiling herself. At some point her threats became banter and she honestly couldn't tell if Rhysand was prone to danger or just stupid. She didn't care, as long as he stayed.

When they found a good space to bury Ianthe, they started digging. Feyre let Rhys do the most, it was his fault that she had to kill Ianthe after all. It was a matter of hours until they were done, having Ianthe buried. Feyre sighed, leaning on a tree as Rhys stopped short before her. "What?"

Rhys raised an eyebrow, which Feyre could barely make out in the dark.

"Spit it out, Rhysand." she ordered. "Just ask."

"Why are you so angry?" he asked softly. Feyre's eyebrows shot up, then her eyes narrowed. Wordlessly, she stepped aside but Rhys trapped her between his arms, leaning in. "What makes you so angry Feyre?"

She was angry because he didn't let her go, he told him as much. He shook his head and it made her even more angry that he wasn't scared. "Do you know when I made my first kill?" She snapped. Rhys waited for her to continue. "I was thirteen. I saw how she slapped my sister across the face and it made me so angry that when I saw her alone in the evening, I killed her. I don't remember How I managed to bury her body, I was so weak back then," tears pricked her eyes, "But I managed and they never found her. After two years where was missing, my family held a funeral and they all acted like she was a saint. My father, my sisters, my aunt, my mother's friends. She wasn't! I-" breathing became difficult, and the tears began falling, "They mourned her! She wasn't a good person, Rhysand. She wasn't! I did them a favor and they were sad that she was gone but I was angry. I was so angry at her. She never treated me right but I could live with that, then I saw her with Nesta and my anger…it was overwhelming." she sobbed, trying to go away but Rhys's arms were still in the way. "And then these people have actually a loving family and I just – why couldn't I have this, Rhys? Why didn't my parents love me? If I, if," she shook her head, swallowing as her anger built up again. "If I can't have a family, they can't have one either. It's unfair!" she yelled. "It's so unfair!" she pressed her face in the crook of Rhys's neck and just sobbed. Slowly, his hands wandered to her back and rubbed soothing circles, the other holding her head. She didn't understand why he was still here but she didn't question him, she let him be there. She let him calm her down.

When the tears finally dried, she looked up at Rhysand. His face was so close that she could stare into his eyes, and still, after everything she told him, he looked at her with nothing but affection. Maybe they were both broken, in such different ways that they completed each other again. Maybe she did need Rhysand and maybe she wasted all her time denying her feelings for him.

Feyre swallowed as she cupped his face and then kissed him. He stiffened for a heartbeat, before he kissed her back, insistent and hungry, his hands gripped her waist and tugged her closer. Her heartbeat became a war drum, the fluttering in her stomach growing stronger as his tongue slid along her lower lip and she immediately opened for him. Rhys's hands cradle Feyres head to keep her close, sliding his tongue with hers. Something between a sigh and a moan escapes Rhys, making Feyre grabbing his shirt to keep him like this. She could feel the bulge in his pants on her stomach, making her grunt in satisfaction. Her hand slid under his shirt, finding their way in his pants until she was stroking his length. When his breath hitched, Feyre softly scraped her teeth over his bottom lip. He broke the kiss, sliding his mouth down to her chin, over her jaw and down to her throat. He met the sensitive spot where her shoulder and neck met, making her breath hitch. He chuckled, the sound reverberating across her skin, making the fine hairs on her arms stand up. "Rhys," she croaked, her voice still hoarse from crying. His teeth scraped over her skin, until his mouth hovered above her shoulder and she bit. Feyre cried out, drawing her hand through his hair to keep his mouth there as her other hand, stroking him, picked up pace.

"Fuck," he muttered against her neck, his voice growing hoars as she gripped Feyre's wrist. "If you don't want me to come right now, you better stop,"

Feyre leaned back to look into his face and grinned, slightly pushing him forward. She didn't care how hard the ground was as they lowered themselves, she needed him then and there. She cursed as she fumbled with his belt, her usually steady hands now trembling, but she did it. Feyre's breath turned ragged as the fabric fell open and exposed his cock. Even though his size had her a little worried her mouth watered. "Feyre," he breathed, "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes." she replied instantly, "I'm more than sure, Rhys, I want this more than anything."

Either it were her words or the tone but something undid Rhys and he didn't hesitate as his hands wandered under Feyre's skirt, ripping her underwear. He stuffed it in the pocket of his jacket. Feyre shivers as his hands slide back, over her thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps. His fingers found the apex of her thighs, feeling her slickness. "God," he groaned as he leaned forward, trailing kisses from her shoulder to her chest. "You're so wet."

Feyre whimpered as he put slight pressure on her clit but she leaned away, pushing Rhys on his back, "Later," she whispered, "I need you, Rhys, now," because this is what she had imagined in the late hours of the night, on the days where Rhys was especially aggravating. This was what she imagined when her hands slid into her sleeping shorts, moaning his name alone in the dark. She had never expected that she felt such a strong need with need, More than on these lonely nights. More than with any partner ever. She placed her hand beside his shoulder as she adjusted her position, and felt fresh earth under her fingers. A smirk spread on her face. They hadn't paid any attention to where they were positioned but it seemed like they landed on Ianthe's grave. She swallowed down a chuckle as her attention slid back to Rhys, his hands holding her hips as he adjusted her atop of him. She took him in slowly, Rhys's hands tightening on her hips and his breath turning ragged, until she was fully. She pushed up, gripping him a bit harder as she positioned him at her entrance. Mine.

Feyre must have said it out loud, as he growled, "Say it again."

She smiled, even though Rhys could probably not see it, but kept quiet until she was fully seated. "Mine." she told him, "You're mine."

She put her hands on his chest, digging her fingers as she adjusted to his fullness, the only sounds being their ragged breathing and the distant sounds of prowling animals. A thrill shot through Feyre, Once adjusted, she rolled her hips, both of them moaning at the friction. Steadily, they found their rhythm, together their breathing turned heavier. Feyre swore as Rhys thrusted into her, so deep that it left Feyre incoherent. Pleasure built up Feyre's spine, "Harder," she cried out, and Rhys obeyed. Feyre's eyes teared up as he pounded into her, her walls clenching around him.

Suddenly Rhys sat up, Feyre moaned as the angle changed, digging her nails into his shoulder blades. "Mine," she whispered into his ear. Rhys's hands wandered under her shirt, cupping Feyre's breasts. "Fuck, Feyre, you're the death of me," he muttered.

She felt the release crawling up her spine as she was riding him, "Rhys, I'm–" her words turned into a whimper as they became more frantic.

"I've got you, Feyre darling, let go," he rasped, brushing strands of her out of her face. The tension was unbearable, building up, and up, and up, until–

Feyre cried out as release gripped her, her vision fading to black, shattering into a thousand pieces. Rhys kissed her, drinking her in as she climaxed, shuddering as he found his own release.

They stayed like this, limp and catching their breaths, recovering from the orgasm.

Hesitant, they parted from each other. Standing up and fixing their clothes. Feyre found the flashlight and swung it towards Rhys as he fixed his pants. "Well that was…something."

He chuckled, picking up their shovels. "I can't say I ever had sex on someone's…well, grave."

Feyre smiled, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Of course not." she said. "Come on, I don't want to stay here the whole night." she told him, trying to walk away as confidently as she could, still feeling weak in the knees and sore between her legs. Walking around tomorrow would be a blast, but that's a problem for her future self. Rhys followed her silently, their silence being comfortable but there was still a tension between them. That was also a problem for future Feyre, for now she was just exhausted and wanted to sleep.

As they drove back, Feyre had expected to feel regret for sleeping with Rhys but surprisingly, it didn't come. No, she still wanted more. She knew they just scratched the surface and hunger overcame her again so much that she had to turn away from Rhys, to not jump him.

After that, they didn't talk for the next week. Well, they did greet each other when they saw each other in town but they didn't seek each other out. Although she saw Rhys more than once pacing in front of her house, she would have invited him in if it wouldn't entertain her so much to watch him trying to build up the bravery to knock on her door.

Until he burst into her house a week later as she tried to find a place to hang her newest painting. It was solely made from Ianthe's blood and she was immensely proud of it.

"You do know I have a doorbell, right?" she asked him, leaning the painting against the wall.

He was out of breath, as if he ran to her. "They are investigating Ianthe's disappearance." A thrill shot through Feyre. Amazing. "Don't look so happy!"

"Rhys, they investigated for a lot of people I killed, don't worry." she told him.

He shook his head, "They found her wallet and they are examining it for fingerprints. Did you touch her wallet?"

Feyre shrugged. "Yeah I did. It's not a big deal, Rhys." he grunted annoyedly and she rolled her eyes. "What do you suppose I'll do?"

Rhys straightened and smiled at her, his deep blue eyes shining, "I'd like to know if you would go on vacation with me?"

Feyre was about to decline but he looked so hopeful that something warmed inside her. "Fine."

Rhys smiled brighter, "Okay, Pack! My private jet is already waiting."

Rhysand

Rhys frowned at the blood smeared painting that Feyre insisted on bringing. She knew she could be macabre at times and most of the time it didn't bother him but knowing that he watched Ianthe die and Feyre made art out of it, it wasn't one of his favorite thoughts. He couldn't tell her no, though. He couldn't decline her anything when she looked at him with her stunning, blue-gray eyes. Rubbing his chest, he turned around to see Feyre rubbing her thigh before she let herself fall on a lounger with a groan. She was still sore from the night before, which made Rhysand feel incredibly smug. Sighing, he took her Cocktail and walked to her, placing it on the table beside her.

"I can't believe you have your own island!" she said for the third time. "If you had told me that I would have instantly said yes."

Rhys snorted, "No you wouldn't."

Grinning up at him, Feyre giggled. "You're right, I wouldn't." she took his hand, pulling him down to sit on her lounger. "Just don't leave me here alone, I don't want to start talking to a ball."

Rhys smirked, his hand resting on her thigh. "I promise."

"Mhm," she hummed. "You make a lot of promises lately." she wriggled her finger with the sapphire ring in front of his face.

He took her hand and placed it above his heart. "And I'm planning to keep them all." he said and kissed her.

Oh damn shit I forgot the taglist

Feysand Taglist:

@captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @edgyellie @starfall-spirit @rhysiedarling @corcracrow @sydney-fae25

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antisociallilbrat · 1 year

Text

The Williams Part One

Part Two

Read on Ao3

Ships: Will Byer/Bill Denbrough and background Richie Tozier/Mike Wheeler and Eleven Hopper/Stanley Uris

Rating: This first part is rated G- other two parts are rated M

Summary: The story where Will and Bill pine over each other helplessly in a coffee shop and Mike and Richie are meddling little shits.

Now that they've met they've gotten past the awkward stage...right?

There’s a coffee loft in downtown New York that has been humbly dubbed “The Bean'' by its loyal customers. The real name of the shop is printed on the window front, but the font is so faded that it’s hard to tell what it originally said. The name “The Bean” came about because, unlike the painted name of the loft, a big faded cartoon coffee bean is still visible on the window pane.

No one knows why the paint of the Bean has withstood through the years and not the paint of the name. At this point, it doesn’t matter. The Bean is cracked and dirty with age and it just fits .

The Bean is just out of the way enough to be an inconvenience to tourists but for locals, it’s a hot spot. It has a comforting atmosphere with its mismatch couches and corner tables. The furniture is a mixed drab of whatever the Owner was able to find at the thrift store. They have the same two baristas who never mess up an order and the place plays smooth jazz softly over the speakers.

This place is perfect for an artist like Will Byers.

Every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon he heads there after his morning class, his satchel full of sketchbooks and pens. He is a very patient man but his roommate has a way of working his nerves so it’s easier to work somewhere else. It’s like the guy has never heard of headphones- and he's always playing some garage band music.

The barista, a sweet girl named Addy, rings up his usual as he walks in the door, the ‘ding!’ of the bell behind him. The smell of cinnamon warms his nose and he already starts to relax. It’s reminiscent of home.

He pays for his hot chai tea; two dollars and fifty cents, with a small “, thank you” to Addy as he heads to his little corner. Mike may give him shit for hating the taste of coffee and still hanging out at the coffee loft, but Mike has never tried The Bean’s chai tea.

There’s a corner of the loft that has this old loveseat couch and a coffee table in front of it. When Will first started coming here he would sit on the floor with his back against the couch and do his work on the table. When the Owner saw this, Mr. Brandis, he insisted on getting Will an easel for him to work on instead.

Will tried to tell the older man that it was too much but Mr. Brandis had money to blow so he bought Will one anyways. Mr. Brandis hasn’t been in the shop much anymore and Addy tells him it’s because his arthritis is getting worse in his old age. A shame, Will genuinely enjoyed Mr. Brandis’s presence.

The easel is already set up for him and he pulls his biggest sketchbook out and sets it on it. With the easel, he does get to sit on the couch now which is nice. With his drink warming his hands, he scrutinizes his work. It’s his art midterm, the first one of his freshman year, and he’s a little nervous.

Going to school for art is such a cliche. The eye rolls and the ‘oh that’s…nice’ he’s had to hear from high school teachers and other grown-ups. He knows. It’s just that he couldn’t bring himself to go to school for something he didn’t care about. That said, he’d rather not fall into the “starving artist stereotype”. If he can create a good-, no; a great piece for his midterm, it feels like this could be worth it.

A silly notion, he knows.

Right now he’s just in the sketching phases. The prompt for the midterm is “Character of light.” He doesn’t have a clue how his project is going to come out. Character of light?- Maybe he should paint his mom.

There’s a "ding!" of the door and Will looks up, is it really that time already?

There’s another reason Will frequents The Bean. A guy that looks around his age, who shows up every day at noon, orders a different drink every time and sits in the same spot across the shop. Will studies him as he chats with Addy, who laughs at something he said. He’s getting some iced drink despite the dropping temperature outside.

When he turns away from the counter with his drink their eyes lock. The guy gives him a polite smile and Will smiles back; before going to his booth. The same routine every Tuesday and Thursday.

Will has affectionately dubbed this stranger “the Writer”. At his booth, he pulls out his laptop and will type away at something. Will has wondered many times what exactly he’s writing. It’s a fiction story, he thinks, because the Writer always has notebooks on the table too. Like he’s keeping track of details in a story. On second thought that could work for writing non-fiction as well but this guy doesn’t look like a boring non-fiction writer. He can’t explain it, he just knows.

Dressed in flannel (always flannel) with his ripped jeans and his auburn hair tucked up underneath a beanie, the occasional strands escaping. He looks so mundane but to the careful eye, you can tell he looks like someone who has something to say. Will hopes he says it. Hopes he gets to hear it.

That would mean talking to him and that’s not something he’ll do. Will Byers doesn’t talk to strangers. People he doesn’t even know the name of. No no no, he’s perfectly content secretly pining over the Writer from his little corner.

Will sighs and gets to work on his midterm as the Writer boots up his laptop. Once the screen is on and he’s clacking away, the Writer won’t look up for anything. Zeroed in on his work, like Will needs to be. He can’t help it! He’s an artist, he likes pretty things! And the Writer is very pretty.

For the next two hours Will sketches and erases portraits of his mom. Would it be too cheesy to choose his mom for this prompt? He could do his sister El, but that may be just as cheesy. At the end of it, all he’s accomplished is to make himself frustrated. It’s time to go home. He glances at the Writer one last time as he always leaves before him.

He picks up his things and politely says goodbye to Addy as he throws his drink away. Maybe he’ll get lucky and his roommate will have gone out for the night.

The New York air is cold on the tip of his nose. Mid-October was bringing in that cold air with a vengence.

“Hey! Wait up!”

Thinking of October he has no idea who he’s going for Halloween. Does the Party want to do a group costume or have they outgrown that? He doesn’t think- A hand grabs his shoulder and Will jerks back. Is this his first mugging?

No, it’s not a mugging because when he turns around it’s the Writer standing there. His cheeks are red and he’s panting and he’s holding Will’s dorm pass.

“You dropped this back there, I figured you weren’t getting home without it.” The man explains.

“I- thank you.” After months they’ve never said a word to each other, just shared little smiles as the writer got his coffee.

“Just being a good citizen,” he laughs. There’s something to his voice. It’s slow and he can’t tell if it’s just because this guy has an accent or what. Before handing the pass back to Will he looks at it, nodding appreciatively, “NYU, that’s a good school.”

He hands the pass back to him, their fingertips just briefly brush, “It is, thanks," he dismisses.

The Writer smiles at him, “Well ss-see you Thursday!” and heads back the way he came, back towards The Bean.

Will stands there for a minute with a blush on his cheeks and stunned at his own stupidity. “It is”? He couldn’t have thought to ask the guy if he went to school there too? Start a conversation? He now knows the guy knows his schedule too but that could mean anything. God, he feels like an idiot.

Bill Denbrough is an idiot.

He sits there, staring at his laptop screen and chewing at his fingernails. Why did he grab Art guy? Cute Art guy to be exact. He looked like he scared the guy half to death.

After months of his romantic pinning, he couldn’t stop himself from taking the chance. When he saw Art guy’s dorm pass fall out of his back pocket as he was leaving it was like fate. The universe was saying, “Now’s your chance Denbrough,” and he fucking blew it! Very Bill of him as Richie would say.

And why did he come off as a stalker?! “NYU, that’s a nice school”?! He dropped out of that school! That’s not even the worst part, the pass was in his hand and he didn’t check the name. Now the guy is stuck being dubbed ‘Art guy’. Dammit, Denbrough! The guy probably thinks he’s a creep.

Groaning, he slams his laptop shut. The words aren’t coming to him as steadily as they usually are. Maybe he calls it an early night and sees if Richie is down to grab a drink. A real drink, not whatever surgery crap Addy concocted today. Plus Richie is always down to drink, even on weekdays. Perks of being the two college dropouts of the Losers club.

“Bye Addy!” he yells over her shoulder. The poor girl is sweeping, getting an early start on closing since she has to do it all alone. The other barista (Diana? He thinks that’s her name.) hides in the back, playing on her phone. They really should hire someone else.

Thursday rolls around and Will is a bundle of nerves. He keeps going back and forth on whether or not he should go. But it would be weird to break his routine suddenly. Oh but his nerves! He knows he came off so cold the Writer! Should he apologize or would that be weird?

He’s still deciding when Mike texts him that he’s joining Will at The Bean. A blessing and a curse. If he chooses not to go now he’d have to explain why to Mike and he would just ask too many questions. His friends are aware of his routines, and Mike and El have joined him at the coffee loft a couple of times. El when she really needs to focus on her school work and Mike when he just needs to relax for a little.

Mike is already sitting in his spot when he arrives. Chai tea on the table alongside Mike’s usual order of americano and a blueberry muffin. Will takes his seat next to Mike. He doesn’t feel like drawing today, his legs are too jumpy.

Mike being Mike immediately notices, “What’s got you in a bunch?”

“Nothing.”

In lew of arguing Mike hands him his chai tea. He regrets it, the cup shakes in his hand. Mike looks at him with a, “You gonna tell me now?” expression.

Will sips his tea in spite, “Seriously, I’m fine.”

Mike starts in on him, “And I’m straight. Was it class? Was professor Harlen a dick to you again? Or was it your roommate? I swear if he-”

“I’m fine!” he lowers his voice as he gets a grumpy look from an old lady in an armchair, “I’m sorry Miss Baker,” he whispers to her. She glares at him for a moment longer before returning to her Cosmo magazine. Mike looks at him expectantly. He sighs, “It’s this guy.”

“It’s this guy?” Mike repeats back to him, “What guy? Did he do something to you or something?”

For someone so smart, Mike can be a bit dense at times. “No he didn’t do anything to me!” he hurriedly whispers, “I just- I just happen to think he’s cute.”

This piques Mike’s interest. For a reason too. Will doesn’t often get ‘crushes’. He feels like such a schoolgirl. “And what happened with this cute guy?” Mike asks.

So, against his better judgment he tells Mike about the incident on Tuesday…and about how he’s been harboring a crush on this guy for months. He can’t look at Mike’s smug face.

“Sooo that’s why you love this place,” the bastard teases.

“I love this place because Addy makes a good chai tea,” he says, getting defensive. There’s a telltale feeling of a stupid blush warming his cheeks.

Mike hums, “So when does Lover boy get here? You said he’s a regular here as you?”

Looking at his booth he realizes what time it is, “He’s um, he’s actually supposed to be here right now.”

He must sense the apprehension in Will’s voice, “I’m sure he’s just running late, that’s all,” Mike tries to reassure.

But Will isn’t listening, he’s thinking about how he came off cold to the guy and now he’s ruined everything. The Writer is probably never going to come here again and that means he’s never going to get to see him again and he never even got to learn his name. God, he’s so stu- Oh wait.

As Will’s eyes were scanning the room they landed on the outside window where the Writer is standing outside next to someone. He has his bag with him so it appears he’s coming in, just chatting to someone right now.

The tension leaves his shoulders and he nods his head towards the window, “Nevermind he’s outside talking to that guy. He’s the one in the gray flannel.”

“The one he’s smoking a cigarette with?” Mike asks, wrinkling his nose.

“Mmm yeah I guess.” Honestly, he’s only ever seen the Writer smoke a couple of times before and it’s always with this same guy before he comes inside sometimes. At first, he feared the other guy was the Writer's boyfriend but the pair have only ever playfully shoved each other when one of them had, apparently, said something stupid. They remind him of Lucas and Dustin.

And there’s the fact that few and far in between, a couple of the Writer's friends have joined him in The Bean. None of them acts less platonic than the other.

The Writer finishes his cigarette before snubbing it out and tossing it. The other guy, his friend, ruffles the Writer’s hair before walking down the street.

Will finds himself holding his breath as he pulls the door open.

“At least he’s the cute one, would have seriously judged you if it was the other guy. The one with the curls looks like he needs a bath,” Mike says with a grimace, unaware of Will’s state.

He agrees noncommittally, trying not to stare but also can’t look away as the Writer places his order. The Writer got something hot today and when he turns around, as always, he makes eye contact with Will.

Instead of rolling his eyes or scowling, or any of Will’s worst fears, the writer smiles and waves. Somehow Will manages to give a small wave back. The Writer, seeming pleased, grins one last time before heading to his booth.

Well…that was new.

“Oh ho ho,” Mike chuckles, “Looks like you didn’t come off too cold to him.”

“Shut up,” he scolds but he’s smiling.

Mike taps his finger to his chin, “I think that you should go talk to him.”

It’s almost comical how quickly Will snaps his head towards Mike, stuttering, “Wh-what? It was just a wave, not an invitation to go bother him!” he whispers yells. He is not risking the Writer overhearing him.

“But it could be an invitation to go bother him, you don’t know,” Will glowers at him and Mike holds his hands up in defense, “I’m just saying! If you want to sit over here and continue to pine for even more months like a sad Disney Channel movie heroine, that’s your deal. You could at least ask his name,” Mike smiles mischievously, “Or I could go ask for his name.”

Will stands up, “Okay we’re leaving.”

“What why?”

“Because I don’t trust you. Come on, get up.”

Hopefully, it wasn’t as embarrassing as it was in his head, leading out Mike who was fighting a fit of giggles. Good to know his love life is funny.

“You know you’re overthinking this right?”

Bill resists rolling his eyes at Stan, yes he knows this. He’s Bill, he overthinks everything, it’s a part of his personality at this point. “Doesn’t matter,” he disregards, “I’ve been s-smiled zoned.”

Stan does roll his eyes at him, “That’s not a thing, stop being overdramatic."

He huffs at his friend. Stan uses a coffee stirrer to push back his cuticles as he sits across from Bill at his booth. He doesn’t often accompany Bill to The Bean but today is a special occasion. Richie got a job here and today was his first day.

A few weeks ago Mr. Brandis finally fired that lazy barista. Addy basically runs the shop anyway so it didn’t affect her but Mr. Brandis still insisted on filling the position.

So Bill got Richie the job. He’s always complaining about having no money, free open mics don’t exactly pay, so now he has a day job. Bill’s happy for him but it is oh so infuriating. His friends are the worst. That’s it.

Richie has been working all day so he was there when Addy took Art guy’s order, he knows his name and he won’t tell Bill. He texted Richie as he was walking here with Stan and Richie just sent him the middle finger again emoji. Then he asked again when he placed his order and the jerk just smiled smugly, miming zipping his lips.

But he still smiled at Art guy when he turned around- and waved. Waving is part of their new routine now. He was so scared he fucked it up when he chased him down the street to return his pass that he decided to take a chance the next time he saw him. If Art guy waved back then hope wasn’t lost. Bill considers himself lucky that he did.

Now a whole month later, they have come to an impasse. The only new development was the wave. He still sits at his booth and pines over Art guy, stealing glances at him when he’s not looking. At his point, he knows he’s getting on his friend’s nerves, particularly Stan and Richie’s.

“I don’t even know if he’s gay Stan,” he almost whines.

Stan takes a glance towards Art guy and looks at Bill with a raised eyebrow, “Are you serious right now?”

“What? S-serious about what?”

“Bill Denbrough you’re a dumbass,” he sighs, “That guy couldn’t scream more gay if he had a shirt on saying it.”

He scrunches his nose, “I don’t understand, how can you tell?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe because he dresses way too nice for a straight guy,” Stan states matter of factly.

“Ben is st-straight and he dresses nicely.”

Stan looks almost pained, “Ben isn’t straight Bill.”

“Wh-what?! Since when?!”

He rolls his eyes again and is chastising him for his lack of gaydar when the door chimes and stops mid-rant. Stan never stops mid-rant so he’s immediately turning around to see who came in.

Oh, it’s just her. The girl with curly brown hair who’s always slightly smiling is one of Art guy’s friends.

But she’s not just a girl to Stan apparently. Bill watches his eyes as his eyes watch her, following her from where she goes to place her order and then to sit next to Art guy. Stan’s mouth is still hanging open from where he was speaking mid-sentence.

He doesn’t bother to hide his snigger when Stan’s attention finally returns to him. Stan glares at him but asks anyways, “Does she often come here with him?”

Bill finds a sudden interest in his nails, feeling completely smug about the whole thing. Stan and Richie have been giving him shit about not talking to Art guy and here Stan is gaping at one of his friends. “Hmmm, I don’t know, why? You feeling smuh-smitten suddenly?” He’s not looking up from his nails as he says it, going for the full effect of bastard.

Stan throws his coffee stirrer at him, “I’m definitely not telling you Art guy's name now!” he hisses.

Bill squawks, “How do you know his name?!”

“Because Richie texted me it on the way here!”

“I have the worst friends,” he pouts, sliding down into the booth.

Mike is surprised and annoyed to see Will’s Lover boy’s friend behind the counter the next time he visits The Bean. Will is still on his way and Mike tends to get here before him anyways when he joins him.

Before he approaches the counter he knows this guy is going to get on his nerves. He just looks dirty! His curls need a brush and his black fingernail polish is chipped to hell. To make it worse he can see the horrendous orange shirt behind his black apron. Who let him go out like this?! Why is it weirdly attractive?!

The guy- ‘Richie’ as it says in a messy scribble on his name tag greets him with an all too big smile, “Hey good lookin' what can I get brewin' for ya?” He sings songs.

He resists glaring; just barely, and orders, “I’ll have an americano and a blueberry muffin. Oh and a hot chai tea.”

“Two drinks?” Richie asks as he rings him up, “What? You got a date coming? And your total is eight dollars and ninety five cents.”

“I’m just ordering for my friend that’s joining me- not that it’s any of your business.” He tosses a ten-dollar bill towards the barista who annoyingly catches it.

He hums, “No date, is it bold of me to assume you’re single then?”

“Just get me my coffee,” he bites out a “please,” so that he doesn’t come off as too rude.

Richie chuckles and grabs two cups and a pen, “Before I do that I need to get your name pretty boy.”

He positively does not blush at that, “It’s Mike.”

“And the other name?” he asks him, scribbling Mike’s name on the cup and picking up the other one, “The name of your supposed friend?”

“It’s Will.”

That makes Richie stop mid-writing and look up at him with an eyebrow raised, “Will? As the one who comes in every Tuesday and Thursday?”

“Yeah that’s him, he has a weird obsession with this place,” Mike tells him, confusion lacing his tone.

“Does his obsession with this place have anything to do with the hopeless writer that sits right at the booth over there?”

The pieces are starting to fall into place as he catches on, “I do believe it does,” a smirk is tugging at his lips.

Richie leans over the counter, matching him with his own Cheshire grin, “Tell me, Micheal, are you also sick of them and their dramatic pining?”

“You have no idea.” He loves Will, really, but ever since Will told him about his crush it’s all he wants to talk about. Mike can recall the different colors of plaid the Writer has worn the last two Tuesdays and Thursdays because Will has insisted on telling him.

“Well well I think it’s time I execute my plan 'The Williams’,” he sees Mike looking at him questioningly and clarifies, “Oh my friend’s name is Bill, they’re both named William so I guess it’s good they go by different nicknames because otherwise, that shit would be confusing.”

“Hmph look at that,” he muses.

Richie challenges him, “So you ready to hear my plan?”

He thinks about it for a minute. Will hates it when his friends get involved in his love life so does he really want to deal with the inevitable grouchy Will over this? On the other hand, can he stand to hear about how the sun filtered in on The Writ- Bill’s hair one more time? With that in mind, he nods.

Richie shoots him a wink, “Great, knew you wouldn’t let me down,” he calls over his shoulder to the other barista who was stocking syrups, “Hey Addy would you mind coming over here for a sec? I got something to ask.”

Will doesn’t notice anything off when he enters The Bean. Mike is sitting over on his loveseat couch, their drinks sitting on the table and his muffin half eaten on the plate.

He also doesn’t notice Mike’s lack of overflowing conversation as he watches for the Writer, no interest in working on his project for the new term. He got an A on his midterm so that’s subsided his worries about his career choice for a while. He painted his mom, Hop, Jonathan, and El. His family- his characters of light. His work was so good that his professor didn’t care that he chose multiple subjects.

Between watching the clock and humming an agreeing noise whenever it sounds like Mike has asked him a question, time moves quickly.

The Writer comes in right on time and heads to the counter. His friend, the one he occasionally shares a cigarette with, has started working here so it’s been fun to watch their interactions. His friend’s name is Richie. Will likes him, he’s only been here for about a week but he’s always super nice to him. Sometimes Will wishes he had the courage to ask him about the Writer but that would be too obvious.

Will watches as the Writer and Richie exchange words, the Writer flips him off and Richie makes kissy faces at him. He wonders what on Earth they’re talking about. The Writer gets his drink, a warm one today, and on cue turns around to smile and wave at him. As always Will waves back.

Something Will does notice is Mike’s lack of snark over it. He eyes his friend, “What? No teasing today?”

Mike gives him an unimpressed look, “I don’t know what to tell you, William, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

Will rolls his eyes, “Whatever- and don’t call me William. It’s weird.”

They make ideal chit-chat, Mike finishing off his muffin and Will drinking his chai. Lucas’s birthday is coming up so they discuss what to get him. The man who notoriously just goes out and buys the things he wants himself. Meanwhile the Writer is pretty invested in the story he’s writing so Will risks a couple more glances than usual.

The sound of Addy's voice interrupts his and Mike's conversation. “Special order for William from Mr. Brandis!” she calls out, putting two drinks on the counter.

He just stares up at the counter, confused. Mike nudges him, “I think she’s talking to you.”

Since when does Addy call him William and why even would Mr. Brandis order him a drink? He’s not even in today! ….He thinks.

Hesitantly he stands and walks towards the counter. Addy is taking an order for another customer and Richie has magically disappeared. She gives him a quick smile as he approaches.

The two paper cups are empty when he picks them up; there are no drinks. What is going on here? One of the cups says ‘Will’ and the other is labeled ‘Bill’.

“What the fuck R-Rich,” Comes from behind him, making him jump.

It’s the Writer and he turns around and sees that he looks annoyed. He’s still confused as to what is going on and is starting to worry that he somehow did something wrong.

The Writer quickly drops his look of annoyance though, trying to smile instead but it’s tense, “I’m ss-sorry. I think my friend is playing a prank.”

Will looks down at the cup named ‘Bill’ and holds it out to him, “Is this you?”

He takes it and observes it, “Yeah I’m Bill- sadly,” he looks at the other cup in his hands, “What does yours s-say?”

Will tries not to snicker but it’s kinda funny, the guy he’s been pining over has his name, “It says Will, short for William.”

It seems like it finally dawns on Bill, “Oh shit we have the same name!” he says, a little too excited. It makes Will squirm, and his cheeks hurt from trying not to smile too big but he's just as nervous. Scared he’ll say the wrong thing and lose this chance.

Bill steps closer to him and he can smell his woodsy cologne and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke. For some reason he completely expected the Writer, Bill, to smell like this. He talks again in that slow voice of his, “Do you want to come sit down with me? Can’t let a special order from Mr. Brandis go to waste.” His words are smooth but his smile is boyish and cheeky and it is utterly charming.

But then Will remembers Mike and in a panic looks over towards him...only to see that Mike is no longer there. He’s standing outside The Bean, looking in through the window and giving him a thumbs up before proceeding to fake gag. Very Mike of him.

So Will turns to Bill and nods, “I’ll sit with you only if you tell me about that story of yours I’ve seen you writing.”

Bill’s eyes light up, “Deal but only if you let me ss-see some of your artwork,” he goads.

That sounds more than fair to him.

A/N: AAAAAA I know it seems like it ends abruptly but that's what chapter two is for ;)

Thank you for reading! Please comment if you enjoyed!

#i finished this look at me #willbill #elstan #wheelzier #bill denbrough #will byers #mike wheeler #richie tozier #eleven hopper #stanley uris #it 2017 #it 2019 #stanger things #stranger things 4

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words-etched-in-her-skin · 1 year

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Hello, dears! ❤️First and foremost - apologies for the lack of content lately! Writer's block has been a bitch 😅 But I come bringing gifts 👀 This fic is a follow up to this ask here -

https://www.tumblr.com/words-etched-in-her-skin/670658060137660416/so-i-got-a-stand-in-the-market-in-the-village?source=share

It's about 5k words, and includes some soft tentacle sex (incase you're not into that) I do hope some of you will enjoy! ❤️

***

Her scent hit you before you even saw her, just like it had every Thursday before that for the past two months. The intoxicating mix of cinnamon and sea salt. It was a smell that never failed to spark butterflies in your stomach and push a warm flush across your cheeks. You straightened out your apron, dusting off any excess flour and quickly fixed your hair.

“Why don’t you just ask her out already?” Your co-worker Annette snorted.

“I- .. ask who out?”

You did your best to act innocent to her words, but the older woman only rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please. You act as if I haven’t had ring side seats to the two of you flirting with each other for the last several weeks.”

At this you blushed even deeper, biting your bottom lip.

“Y-you know I can’t just ask her out….”

“Why??”

“She’s a lord for Miranda’s sake!”

“Pft.. a lord that flirts heavily with you every time she’s here.”

She wasn’t wrong. Sal always made it a point to compliment you, throwing you a wink or two. And lately she seemed to even look for excuses to hang out at the small shop longer than usual.

But still, that didn’t change who she was.

“I just..”

“Look, if you don’t ask her out, I just might.” The older woman chuckled.

“ANNETTE!”

She snorted even louder this time before patting you hard on the back. “I may be old, but I know a good woman when I see one. And Sal.. Sal is one of the best.”

You couldn't argue with that. Sal was the best woman you knew. She was kind, compassionate, strong.. and not to mention, the most beautiful woman you had ever laid eyes on. You gave Annette a small smile before sighing.

"She is.. Sal is-"

"Heh, Sal is wha'?"

You felt all the heat rise to your face the moment you heard her voice, quickly turning around.

"Uh.. is here! Sal is here!" You added nervously, making her chuckle - the late morning sun shimmering off a particularly sharp tooth within her grin.

"Aye.. tha' she is."

Sal gave you a little wink that you felt almost immediately in your core, bringing more heat to your face.

“Ah.. “ You paused, clearing your throat. “So.. just the usual today?”

A soft chuckle and smug smirk, “Aye, maybe a lil’ more.”

You hurried off to fill Sal's usual amount of flour and various spices - a single fresh vanilla bean always requested with each order. You remembered Sal telling you that’s why she first started coming to your humble little shop, she'd commented on how you were the only place in the village to keep them in stock - which was mainly due to the fact that Annette spent years learning how to grow and cultivate it properly in the garden. Something that you were now more than grateful for.

“So, Sal.. how goes it?

“A’ight.”

You listened as Sal and Annette exchanged pleasantries while you continued to finish up the lord’s order. And you were more than certain that the older woman was well aware that you were stalling - making sure the blush had completely gone from your cheeks before placing it all into a wooden crate and heading back to the front - the topic of conversation now at Sal’s favorite type of fish to eat.

“The one tha’ ends up in me mouth, heh.”

All of sudden you got a very clear image of Sal’s mouth, immediately thinking of all the things it could do to you. The blush you had just spent so much time getting rid of now a bristling heat across your cheeks. You cleared your throat, placing Sal’s order on the counter.

“Ah.. what sort of cupcakes are you making, Sal?”

Your heart quickened when her gaze slid over to you, a slight crinkle to the side of her eyes.

“Tryin’ sumthin’ new. It’sa surprise.” Sal grinned.

You felt your blush grow even deeper. “For- for me?”

“Aye.” She nodded. The single word taking residence in your mind, skipping through it freely like a heartbeat. For a moment you had no words to reply with - no thoughts to offer - but you knew if you didn’t take the chance now you never would.

“Um.. so, Sal..”

“Shoot! I gotta go check on that.. pie.. uh, I’ll be back.”

Annette gave you a wink of encouragement before hurrying off to check on her imaginary pie.

“Heh.”

The keen smirk that curled across Sal’s lips made you all too aware that she knew exactly what was coming. You swallowed hard, tucking a rogue curl behind your ear.

"Fuck it. Would you.. maybe want to go out sometime? Ah.. with me?"

*I swear that was the first time I ever heard you curse." Anette laughed. "I was sure you were gonna pass out."

You chuckled, putting the last tray of cookies into the over.

"So did I, honestly."

It had been nearly a month since that fateful day and you could still picture the soft blush that had bloomed across Sal's cheeks like it was yesterday. You had been on seven dates since then.. seven moments where you got to spend an hour or two with the most incredible woman you had ever met. Of course Sal had been more than ready to take your relationship further - in a carnal sense, that is - but she always remained respectful of your desire to wait.

Not that you didn't want to, though. Not that the thought alone didn't make your body ache. Make it burn with desire. But you made a promise to yourself that you'd wait for exactly the right moment with her. Sal was worth that much.

"So.. what time is she comin'?"

"She said she had a meeting with the other Lords and the High Priestess late in the morning, and then she'd be over."

Which according to the position of the sun, should be any minute.

"Shit, imagine havin’ to sit in on one of those. Think I’d rather take a fresh cookie tray out of the oven with no mitt than have to endure that."

You nodded, chuckling. Sal was definitely the most personable of all the lords, that was for sure. Much to the Annette's dismay, Lady Beneviento had always sent one of her dolls to collect any ingredients she needed and you'd only caught a glimpse of the Countess once or twice during one of her very rare trips through that part of the village. As for Lord Heisenberg, he hardly ever made his way that close to the outskirts, but you had heard enough stories about him to make you rather thankful for that. Miranda, though.. well, the High Priestess was never one you wanted knocking at your doorstep.. for any reason.

"She at least tell you where she's takin' ya?"

You shook your head. "Nope, all she said was to please make her some of her favorite cookies."

"Ah.. so that's why you made so many. I see how it is."

You chuckled again, knowing very well that your lemon cookies just happened to be Annette's favorites also.

"Mhm.. one tray for her.. and one for you." You replied with a wink, laughing as your co-worker's face immediately lit up.

"Ha! You're the best."

"Mh.. so you keep telling me."

"Pft.. and I'm sure I'm not the only one."

You couldn't help the deep flush that moved across your cheeks at Annette's smirk.

"I- .. well, no.."

"Heh."

You were about to tell her to hush when Sal's unique scent hit your nose, instantly causing your blush to deepen.

"Don't even need to ask what that look means." Annette chuckled. "I'm just gonna take my cookies and skedaddle."

The older woman was gone before you even had a chance to argue, a blur of lemon cookies and gray hair. Grabbing a small basket from under your work table, you welcomed the small smile that painted your lips as you carefully placed the cookies inside - Sal's scent growing stronger with each breath until it's presence was almost as overstimulating as she was.

"'Ey there, luv. Yer ready?"

The immediate spike - the instant race of your heart - beating loudly as if Sal itself was it's only lifeline. You turned, meeting her gaze and her shark-like smirk. A soft blush across her cheeks.

"Ah, yes. Just about! I'm not sure when Annette is coming back, so I'm just going to turn off the oven and then we can go."

Sal nodded, giving you a smile. "A'ight."

The speed in which you discarded your apron, turned off the oven and fixed your hair rightly earned a tiny chuckle from the lord - a knowing look dancing brightly within the embers of her eyes.

Once exiting the small shop you were finally able to take a good look at your date, a slight drop to your jaw as your eyes raked her over. Of course she was dressed to the nines, a large picnic basket hooked on one arm and you still wearing your work uniform. Her inky black hair shimmering in the mid-day Romanian sun as she straightened her shoulders - reminiscent of an oil spill caught in the sun's light and slicked back in a way that only accentuated her strong jawline and prominent cheekbones. And the fitted suit she wore - a rich dark navy that hugged each and every one of her exquisite muscles - left very little to the imagination, needless to say.

You cleared your throat, doing your best to keep your voice steady.

"Ah.. well.. you.. you look nice."

"Heh, thank yeh. Yer stunnin'."

"Sal, this is literally the same work dress you always see me in."

"An'? Yer always stunnin'."

You blushed, breath hitching as any argument you may have had was swiftly kissed from your lips.

"Charmer." You whispered once you found your breath again - your blush deepening when you felt her smile against your own.

"Aye, maybe."

"Mhm."

You gave her a small smirk before glaring back at the judgmental eyes of the villagers that followed you. Not that any of them would ever dare say anything. Even if homophobia was fairly rampant in the small religious village (which, of course, you always found oddly humorous.. especially considering how many women both Countess Dimitrescu and the High Priestess employed), no one would be stupid enough to question a lord or their actions publicly.

"Sooo.. where are you taking me??"

"Heh.. yer'll see."

She placed her hand in yours, bringing a swift heat to your cheeks as she led you through the small village and towards the Beneviento manor.

"Uh, Sal?"

"Aye?"

"Should we be.. I mean.. we're usually warned against traveling too close to Lady Donna's manor..."

"Heh, yer'll be a'ight. I know Donna's place like tha back o' my hand.. don' worry."

Sal gave you a toothy grin that made you both laugh and worry even more. Though, the genuine warmth within her eyes quickly melted any fears that you may have had and you gave her hand a little squeeze - trusting her to keep you safe for the rest of your journey.

To be honest, even though you'd only know the charming woman for a couple of months, you could easily say that you trusted her with your life. There had been no other person in existence that made you feel as utterly and completely safe as Sal had. And if she told you to close her eyes, take her hand and blindly follow her through fire - you probably would.

To you, Sal was comfort incarnate - the epitome of safety - a warm breeze on an all too frigid day.

"Plus, ain't no better views in town." Sal added as her feet stopped short, immediately making you look up. And she wasn't wrong, the sight before you nearly took your breath away. You had seen the waterfall behind Manor Beneviento from the outskirts many times, but you had never in your life seen it that closely before. It was truly spectacular.

"I- .. wow, Sal. It's beautiful."

"Aye.. a'most as beautiful as yeh." She grinned.

"You hush." You blushed.

"Nah."

The way the corners of her eyes crinkled when she gave you a little wink made your heart flutter in a way you'd never felt before. Gods, this woman would likely be the death of you, and you didn't even care.

You followed Sal a little further before coming to a small field of wildflowers - with colors so bright they looked like something ripped from another place and time. From a land filled with magic and make believe and everything that Sal made you feel inside. It was almost incredible how much more beautiful the world looked when she was around.

You pouted slightly when she released your hand and placed her basket in the grass. A large, comfy blanket unfolded and spread before you with a single fluid motion.

"Yer seat, m'luv."

Her voice was smooth enough alone to make you melt, but mixed with the soft look she gave you and her outstretched hand you could have very easily combusted.

"Th-thank you, Sal."

"O'course."

She took a seat next to you and started to unpack the basket she brought. Since Sal was more of a baker than a cook, it was mostly all baked goods - not that you were complaining - a generous spread of cupcakes, fresh breads and cookies basking in the late afternoon sun, with a bowl of what looked like some sort of pasta to top it all off.

"Well, someone's outdone herself." You said with a wink.

"Heh.. Donna made tha pasta fer us.. after I burnt tha firs' try." She replied with a chuckle.

"Mh.. that was nice of her."

"Aye."

The moment you added your small basket of cookies to the feast Sal immediately snatched one up - eating it in one eager bite.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Good, I take it?"

"Mhmph." Sal replied, spitting out a small amount of crumbs that made you laugh.

"Not as good as you, though."

You smirked as her eyes locked onto yours, a shadow of lust casting over them and a single sweep of her tongue over her lips as she swallowed - a light sprinkling of pink prominent across her cheeks.

"Yeh shush."

You leaned in ever so slightly, lips a mere inches from her ear.

"Make me."

Words no more than a whisper causing a cascade of shudders across Sal's body and a bite to her bottom lip.

"Yer not playin' fair, luv."

"Hm, and when did I ever agree to play fair?"

Sal chuckled before closing the last bit of distance between you, a dark smirk curled across her lips.

"Mh, a'ight then."

Your lips parted almost instinctively and your eyes closed. Feeling your cheeks flush as she moved in a little closer. Though, all that came from it was a muffled sound of surprise as Sal stuffed a single cookie into your mouth.

"Heh.. now shush."

The utter look of betrayal on your face must have been all too noticeable as Sal let out a hearty laugh. It was deep and husky and only made your heart flutter all the more. How was she so perfect? How had you gone the most of your life without her in it?

You glared at her playfully before swallowing, a supreme pout upon your lips. "Hmph.. rude."

"Eh? Yer teasin' me an' I'm rude?"

"Yes!" You exclaimed, crossing your arms.

Sal only chuckled, bringing a forkful of pasta to your lips as she smirked.

"Heh.. allow me ter make it up ter yeh then."

"Oh, and how- .. mmmm."

You couldn't even finish your sentence, Donna's pasta being one of the best things you had probably ever tasted.

"Mother Miranda, that's good."

"Heh, aye."

Needless to say, the two of you feasted in silence for the next several minutes. The plethora of tastes nothing less than a symphony for your taste buds, with each bite better than the last. Where Sal lacked in the art of savory dishes, she excelled when it came to baking. Her cupcakes were a mastery of all things sugary and an absolute gift to the senses. Perfect blends of sage and lavender, citrus and cinnamon… and her vanilla bean and sweet cream ones were so good that they made you moan out loud - an act that swiftly earned a look from the lord.

It was a look that said everything within a single glance - every desire, every need. The way her eyes fluidly followed your movements, falling to your lips as your tongue traced over them and licked the last bit of cream from them. You felt your cheeks heat almost immediately, a warm tingle across your body that swiftly found residence in your core.

"Sal?"

"Aye."

"Kiss me."

Where Sal's kisses were usually gentle, tepid - the one she gifted you with burned with the heat of a thousand suns. Of a thousand nights where she had nothing but the thought of you and the warmth of her own hands to keep her company. Your back against the blanket and her body flush against yours in a matter of seconds. You moaned into it, sweeping your tongue eagerly over hers and wrapped your legs around her waist.

You were panting when you pulled apart, deep crimson decorating both of your cheeks and a look in your eyes that could level just about anything that came up against it.

"I.. I want you, Sal. I need you."

The first nip against your skin made you shudder - the second, whimper. Each one marking you as her own and slowly stirring the heat that pooled within your core. Without a second thought you lifted yourself up, pushing your lover off of you just long enough to rip your dress from your increasingly heated body before you pulled her back on top of you.

For a moment, though, Sal only sat there. Her muscular frame leaned back while two strong thighs sat on either side of your hips, straddling you. Her lingering eyes - drinking you in as the slightly cooled air of a warm summer day come and gone creeped it's way across your exposed skin - leaving a trail of goosebumps in it's wake and hardening your nipples. And the smoldering gaze that quickly followed only made you shiver all the more.

"Sal-"

You hadn't intended for the simple word to sound so needy - so breathy - but you couldn't have stopped it if you tried. The last letter barely able to slip from your lips before Sal was back on top of you, pulling her own shirt from her body and pressing her ashen skin into yours.

"Stunnin' luv." She whispered, her warm breath skating across your ear. It was all you could do to squirm under her, wrapping your arms around her neck to pull her closer.

"Please.. Sal.."

She chuckled at your need, at your urgency. Sharp nails teasing over your nipples.

"Heh, please wut?"

Two rows of perfectly sharpened teeth glinting in a late afternoon sun as Sal smirked down at you, chuckling once more when you whimpered.

"Cum'on, luv. Jus' use tha' pretty lil mouth o' yers an' tell me wha' yer need."

"Fuck, Sal."

She was the only woman alive to be able to fluster you to a point of cussing, and the smug grin across her face only told you how well she knew it. In fact, you were more than sure Annette had made a point to tell her one day when you weren't around.

You let out an exasperated sigh, face flushed, and grabbed her by the shoulders. "For Miranda's sake, Sal, just fuck me already!"

"Heh, as yer wish."

She gave you the smallest wink before her nails came to your hips, slicing through the thin fabric of your panties with a single, swift movement and exposed your dripping core - the measure of your desire glistening softly in the warm hues of a setting sun. The same hues that basked Sal in an earthly glow, accentuating her unique beauty as well as the subtle blush across her cheeks.

You moaned when her fingers found you, curling deeply the moment they slid in and forcing an immediate arch to your back. The profound heat that spilled across the length of you when she pulled them back out, driving them back in with a purposeful force. A perfect balance of gentle and rough, much like Sal herself. Slow, calculated movements coated in her absolute want of you - each one making your needier than the last.

"M-more.. please.. Sal.. I need to feel more of you."

Your lover's golden eyes looked down upon at you, glowing in an unfamiliar way as she licked over her lips, panting - her fingers stilled deep inside you.

"Can try sumthin' else if yer up for it."

You laid there trembling, body shaking both in curiosity and want.

"What's .. what's that?"

There was no verbal response, just a slight arch to Sal's back as several tentacles slithered out from behind her. Each one wet, glistening. Dancing around her in a way that only made your core ache - clenching around the fingers that still resided inside it.

With a tiny bite to your bottom lip you gave her an eager nod. "Y-yes. I'm definitely up for that."

Before a moment could pass you had a tentacle wrapped firmly around each thigh, forcing your legs even further apart. You whimpered shamelessly when Sal’s fingers slipped out of you - her muscular body, her skin, her scent - all surrounding you, overwhelming your senses as another tentacle began to slither it’s way between your legs. You couldn’t help but buck into it, wanting so desperately to have her back inside you, filling you. But you could tell the lord was in no rush, that your lover had other plans.

“Needy luv.” She whispered, the tip of her appendage teasing over your slit.

“Mmph-!”

She chuckled in a way that made your whole body tingle, stoking the feverish heat that had already taken residence within your skin with each delicious breath that skated over you. The blanket below you already soaked in your need and only getting wetter.

You shivered as a fourth tentacle slowly came around the side of you. Moving along your body and onto your breasts as it inched it’s way over to play with your nipples. The same time the one between your legs dutifully mirrored it’s movements on your clit. It was a symphony of sensations, with each appendage playing it's part - filling your body with an unsung melody.

"Sal-" You whimpered, "please."

The only things to come next were the low growl in her throat and the exquisite stretch to your core as the tentacle between your legs slid in. It was thick, girthy - swollen with desire and filled you so deliciously. You moaned out right as your back arched, legs parting even further for her.

"Y-yes.. m-more.."

Sal moaned at your need, at your utter want of her. The appendages around your thighs growing firmer as they forced your legs open as wide as they could. A heated kiss placed to your lips as a second tentacle slid inside of you, juices spilling from your core.

A muffled "Yes" seared into your lover's lips, nails scratching down her back as her tentacles drove into you. Sliding deliciously over your clit with each thrust. Sal tended to your body like a finely tuned instrument - knowing exactly how to play it as if she'd been studying you for years. Each caress of your skin, every tug at your nipples. The tiny bites that slowly encompassed you and decorated your skin. All working together to push your pleasure higher and higher.

You had never felt such bliss before, never been so completely enveloped in it. The appendages between your legs thrusting faster, harder. Building the pressure within your core to an almost unbearable level.

And gods, how badly you wanted to come for her, to show her exactly how good she made you feel - but the utter need to not lose her sinful pleasure was the only thing holding you back.

"Yer doin' so good fer me, luv."

Words imprinted into your skin like a prayer, like a sin that only wanted you to let go. To give in to your release and the prickling heat that slowly threatened to take over you. Your hips bucked, core clenched - nails dug into her skin so hard that a single trickle of crimson dripped down her back.

"Fuck.. Sal.."

"Tha's it, sweetheart. Just like tha'."

That was all you needed to hear, that little bit of encouragement coated in her praise for your body to be engulfed in nothing but pleasure as you screamed out into the cool summer's air. Every part of you convulsing against her as the orgasm violently swept over you like a wildfire. Singeing everything in it's path and coating your thighs and Sal with your heated desire.

Your whole body trembled as you held her close, riding out your high as her tentacles continued to move slowly in and out of your core until you finally fell breathless to the ground.

For a moment all you could was breath, a shuddering, exhausted mess of bliss and haze. Eyes blurred as your body did it's best to catch up with your brain. But the second they focused, the second they took in the sight of her - cheeks flushed and core wet with desire - you instantly felt renewed. With a surge of energy shooting through you like a raw current, you lifted your body up from the blanket and pushed Sal onto her back.

"Luv, I-"

You placed a single finger to her lips before settling between her thighs.

"Just be quiet and let me show you just how beautiful I think you are, hm?"

Your words had the exact effect you were hoping for, the subtle dusting of pink upon her cheeks turning to a deep crimson.

"Gorgeous." You whispered, trailing small kisses down her jawline and neck before reaching her abdomen. Lips carving out pathways upon well defined abs as you made your way down, enjoying the tiny breaths that escaped from her lips as you did. ".. and such a good girl for me, Sal. So stunning like this."

She growled softly but her blush only deepened, telling you exactly how much she enjoyed it. Exactly how much she liked being praised and tended to like the goddess that she was. Her core practically dripping as you took it into your mouth, allowing her heady essence to cover your face and nose as you lengthened your tongue as far into her as it could go.

The soft moans that fell with each breath, a breath that hitched and heaved with every eager sweep of your tongue. In and out, over and around. Moaning yourself when she grabbed onto your hair and pulled you closer still. You drank from her as if she were the only oasis within a vast desert, as if her desire and her desire alone was the only thing to sustain you. Alternating between circling over her clit and thrusting your tongue into her.

You knew she wouldn't last long, by the nails that slowly began to dig into your scalp and the shake to her thighs. Your arms coming to her hips as you pulled yourself as far into her as you could, spelling out your adoration for her within the soft, wet folds of her core until she was screaming out your name. Until her thighs clamped down and her sweet desire poured into your mouth like a nectar of the gods.

And when you opened your eyes, glowing embers looked up at you through a half lidded gaze as you licked the taste of her from your lips.

"Good girl." You smirked, earning you a soft chuckle.

"Heh. Yer evil."

"Mh, perhaps. But you like it."

She chuckled again before closing her eyes, a soft smile painting lips that you so badly wanted to kiss.

So you did.

Lying next to her with your arm around her waist, her desire still prevalent upon your tongue as it swept over hers. Heartbeats synched and bare bodies flushed against each other. The soft sound of wind blowing through flowers and a waterfall off in the distance. That's the moment you'd be deemed to think about whenever you thought of Sal from that point on - and it was utterly perfect.

***

Ahem.. yes.. well.. I hope you guys enjoyed that 👀❤️

#depravity answered #resident evil village #anonymous #genderbent sal #genderbent sal x reader #re8 fanfiction #ngl #this really made me miss writing tentacle smut 👀#ahem #re8 asks

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addierose444 · 5 months

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2023 Holiday Food Photos

It’s New Year’s Eve as I write this and hence my final post of 2023. Even though it’s not yet the new year for me, I thought I may as well say Happy New Year! As almost all of my photos from the past week are of food and I’m not inspired enough to write a real post, I’ll just be sharing a few food photos.

As a special Christmas breakfast, I made some homemade cinnamon rolls with buttermilk icing. I made a yeasted version back in 2020, but this time tried a simpler recipe (from the same cookbook Baking Illustrated) that used a buttermilk biscuit-style dough.

I was pretty happy with the rolls and the icing, but do wish I’d been able to compare the two versions side by side to see if the extra time for the other recipe was worth it.

I didn’t take any photos of them, but I did get to eat several delicious soups this week. On Tuesday, I made a pork noodle soup with ginger and toasted garlic. On Thursday, I got to enjoy my mom’s chicken and rice soup. On Friday I ordered the chicken noodle soup at Pho Capital in Montpelier.

On Saturday I went to Cold Hollow Cider Mill to try a flight of their ciders. My ranking of the ones I tried is Soul Shifter, Barn Dance, Trust Fun, and finally Grateful Sled which is a seasonal cider.

Next, I went on the Ben & Jerry’s factory tour and got to sample their delicious Butterscotch'd ice cream. For dinner, I ordered the penne alla vodka (without the crushed red peppers) at Sarduicci’s.

Finally, this evening I made a cheese and beef lasagna with garlic bread. I was generally happy with how the lasagna came out, but as with everything I make had a few critiques.

#food #cinnamon roll #cider #pasta #lasagna

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parkerbombshell · 2 years

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From Memphis to Merseyside #2

Thursdays 8pm EST bombshellradio.com Ep 2 Sam Phillips and Sun Records It is January 3, 1953 in Memphis. Former DJ and radio sound engineer Sam Phillips is about to fulfil a dream, just 2 days shy of his 30th birthday. While working at WLAY in Muscle Shoals, Alabama, Phillips fell in love with the music that he heard by Black American musicians and decided to move to Memphis and open the Memphis Recording Service at 706 Union Avenue with his assistant, Marion Keisker. Their goal is to provide African American musicians with a chance to get their music on records. Phillips’ slogan for the studio is ‘We Record Anything, Anywhere, Anytime’ and little do he and Keisker know that this little outfit is going to go on to create big waves in the music business for many years to come. Playlist Order: 1 Jerry Lee Lewis Whole Lotta Shakin’ Going On 2 Jerry Lee Lewis High School Confidential 3 Jackie Brenston and His Delta Cats Rocket 88 4 Howlin’ Wolf Moanin’ at Midnight 5 Arthur Crudup That’s All Right Mama 6 Rufus Thomas Jr Tiger Man (King of The Jungle) 7 Carl Perkins Gone Gone Gone 8 Ringo Starr Sure To Fall 9 Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers Blue Moon of Kentucky 10 Rufus Thomas Bear Cat (The Answer to Hound Dog) 11 John Fogerty Almost Saturday Night 12 Gale Storm I Hear You Knocking 13 The Platters Only You 14 The Four Lads Moments to Remember 15 Roger Williams Autumn Leaves 16 Tennessee Ernie Ford Sixteen Tons 17 Prefab Sprout Electric Guitars 18 Prefab Sprout King Of Rock And Roll 19 Bruce Springsteen Viva Las Vegas 20 Elvis Presley C’mon Everybody 21 The Beatles Honey Don’t 22 Johnny Cash Folsom Prison Blues 23 Johnny Cash I Walk the Line 24 The Gentrys Cinnamon Girl 25 Carl Perkins Blue Suede Shoes 26 Carl Perkins Movie Magg 27 Roy Orbison and The Teen Kings Ooby Dooby 28 Roy Orbison Devil Doll 29 Elton John Whole Lotta Shakin’ Going On 30 The Beatles I Forgot To Remember To Forget Read the full article

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

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Bring It On Home

Summary: After one of her regular customers catches her boss stealing her tips, the reader gets a job from Jensen. She figures he’s just being a nice guy but after a run in with a stranger they both learn exactly what they really are to one another...

Pairing: Jensen x daughter!reader

Word Count: 10,500ish

Warnings: language, angst, mention of death/drug use/smut/scary situations, fluff

A/N: Felt like putting a little spin on this one! Enjoy!

______

“Mr. Ackles,” you smirked as he wandered up to the counter with a big smile. “I thought you told me not to sell you anymore donuts. I thought you were slimming down for your next role.”

“Oh, I never said such a thing,” he smirked. “You got any of those maple cinnamon creme filled ones left?”

“Looks like we got one left,” you said. He set his starbucks cup and sunglasses down on the counter and pulled out his wallet. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. I’ll take a butterscotch for De and a dozen of the minis for the kiddos,” he said.

“Anything in particular?” you asked as you started to put together his order.

“Surprise me,” he said.

“I’ll go with glazed and chocolate to be safe,” you said. You set the bag and box down, ringing him up. “Oh and I gotta say, I really liked the new album. You guys were really good.”

“Well thank you very much, Y/N,” he smiled. He stuffed a big tip in the jar like he always did and you gave him a look. “Oh I know you saved that donut for me. Don’t pretend.”

“The fact you come in here every single Thursday at 10:07 in the morning when you’re not working and order the same donut every single time? Oh I don’t know who thought to do that,” you said.

“Mhm. See ya next week, kid,” he said as he headed out.

“Bye, Mr. Ackles,” you said. You saw your manager give you a side eye and you pouted.

“I thought I told you to stop bothering him,” she said.

“He’s nice. It’s a small place. He comes in every week,” you said. She took the money out of the tip jar and shoved it in her pockets. You sighed and heard the door open again, Jensen shaking his head.

“Sorry, left my sunglasses,” he said. He picked them up and paused, staring at the jar. “I just put twenty dollars in there.”

You looked at your manager and she pretended to have to go sign for something. You wiped down the counter and saw him still standing there.

“Can I get you anything else?” you asked. You straightened up and his lip was pursed.

“Does your boss take your tips?” he asked.

“We pool tips here, Mr. Ackles. You know that,” you said.

“Yeah but you make minimum wage. She doesn’t. Does your boss take a cut of the tips?” he asked. You didn’t say anything but apparently you did. He grumbled and pulled out a twenty, sliding it across the counter. “That’s yours, not hers. While I’m at it, I’m gonna say what I’ve been thinking for like, the entire time you’ve waited on me and just go to school. You are way too smart to be working a job like this the rest of your life.”

“Mr. Ackles you don’t-”

“You don’t ring people up. You do the math in your head. You always give me a total before it pops up on the screen. You got a brain. Use it for something better than this, kid,” he said.

“Not everyone is fortunate enough to do that,” you said.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Twenty two,” you said.

“You got a car?” he asked.

“Yeah?” you said.

“Congratulations. You’re the newest bartender at my brewery. Starts at fifteen bucks an hour,” he said.

“Is that in the morning?” you asked.

“It’s probably evenings, afternoons. Why?” he asked.

“I have another job,” you said. “I can’t work later than noon.”

“You can work in the brewery in the morning then. We got a deal?” he asked. You nodded and he pulled a card out of his wallet. “Call me when you’re done with work today and we’ll get you set up, okay?”

“Thank you. This is gonna help so much,” you said. He smiled and nodded.

“Just hang in there for now. It’ll get better.”

Three Weeks Later

“Good morning,” you heard as you dropped a sack on the floor. You were panting and sweaty, Jensen smiling as he saw you. “Whoa, what are you doing moving those by yourself.”

“My boss said they need to get moved. I was getting started without him was all,” you said.

“Okay your boss is my business partner so I’m like your boss too and no we do not move seventy pound bags by ourselves, understand?” he asked.

“Sorry,” you said, wiping your hand over your face.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “It’s just a bag on the floor.”

“Yeah. I just don’t want to screw this up,” you said. “I really need the money.”

“Well relax. It’s only your second week,” he said. You nodded and he squatted down, hoisting the bag over his shoulder. He walked it over to where they were being moved and tossed it down. “Come here.”

You scurried over and he crossed his arms, looking back at the pallet of raw hops and the bag by his feet.

“Figure out how to make this more efficient,” he said.

“What?”

“I didn’t hire you because I felt sorry for you and I didn’t do it because you’re stronger than the grown men here. You got a brain and I want you to use it. Figure out a way to make this process better. Tell your boss when you got something,” he said.

“Yes sir,” you said.

“None of that sir shit, kid. Just Jensen, okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you said. He rolled his eyes and walked away, a pit forming in your stomach. You were so getting fired. You should have just sucked it up and stayed at the donut shop. You’d quit there and your pizza shop job went away when they closed up last week. You knew you could squeak by until you found another part time job. “Jensen?”

He spun around halfway across the room and you swallowed.

“I’m available in the evenings now. I can bartend too if you still need that,” you said.

“I can give you two shifts a week. Same pay. That work?” he asked.

“Yes that’s great,” you said.

“Good. Figure out the bags, Y/N,” he said before he went off. You felt a little better at least. You stared at the bags and pallet, trying to figure out the best way to get the bags over with all of the equipment in the way.

One Hour Later

“So you figured it out,” said Jensen with a knowing smile after you’d told him about your idea to use the forklift to drive around outside and then back in through the other smaller door to bring the bags over to the other side of the equipment. “Took a little longer than I was expecting.”

You frowned and he chuckled.

“Relax. It was a test,” he said.

“A test?” you said and he hummed. “For what?”

“I think your talents would be better suited for stocking management at the moment. You’re gonna track orders as they come in, manage storage, help the workflow stay on track. Sound good?” he asked.

“Yes. Definitely,” you said.

“People are around to help but I think you’ll do just fine,” he said. “I gotta run. Don’t forget to take a lunch break at some point.”

“Jensen. Thanks for the job. Really,” you said.

“You go to college and then you can thank me,” he said. “See you around, kid.”

One Month Later

“Mmm,” you hummed at the end of your shift tending bar. You were sipping on a can of beer and eating a slice of pizza on the quiet patio, a few people finishing up with their drinks before the place closed up for the night.

“Excuse me,” said an older man, probably in his fifties. You stopped mid-chew and he put on a friendly smile. “I’m sorry to bother you. You just look a lot like someone I know. Well I didn’t know her but…”

“Howdy,” said Jensen as he wandered out from the taproom. It wasn’t lost on anyone how he put himself between you and the man. “Enjoying your night sir?”

“Yes. I was just chatting to the young lady here. I thought I knew her from somewhere…” he trailed off. Jensen looked back at you and you swallowed down the pizza in your mouth.

“She must have one of those faces,” he said. “We’re closing up for the night soon sir.”

“I’m not trying to bother her,” he said.

“I know you’re not,” said Jensen. The man didn’t leave though and he stiffened up. “Sir. The young lady doesn’t want to talk to you. She doesn’t know you. Please return to your table.”

“I do know her though,” he said.

“I’m sorry, I don’t…” you said.

“Y/N, go inside,” said Jensen.

“Okay, this is a very awkward situation. But I need to talk to her in private,” said the man. Jensen chuckled but you heard the dark edge to it.

“I need you to leave,” said Jensen.

“I’m a cop.”

“I don’t care if you’re the Easter bunny. You are making my employee uncomfortable,” said Jensen. The man stared at him and then you. Jensen grabbed your arm and started walking inside with you when the man grabbed your hand. “Get your fucking hands off-”

“Y/N, I know your mom,” he said. Jensen kept pulling on you but you shook him off.

“You’re a cop?” you asked as he nodded.

“You’re Y/N, aren’t you,” he said.

“What the fuck is going on?” asked Jensen.

“Y/N, sweetie, we need to call up the Dallas police department right now. There are things you need to know.”

“Things like what?”

Four Hours Later

“Hey kid,” said Jensen as you sat at a conference table in a police station. You stared blankly at the shut file, Jensen setting a candy bar down in front of you. “Didn’t know if you were a chocolate kinda chick.”

“Thank you Jensen,” you said quietly. You didn’t touch it and he bumped your arm.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No,” you said. “Thank you for coming with me to the station and staying. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah well no offense but I was serious about what I said. I wasn’t leaving you alone with some random dude,” he said. “Eat something.”

“I thought I had shitty parents before,” you laughed. “Turns out they fucking killed my mom and took her toddler and pretended I was theirs. What the fuck.”

“I’m not going to pretend to know how you remotely feel right now,” he said. “It’s fucked up. It’s so fucked up.”

“I know,” you said as a detective came in.

“Y/N, this is the file we worked up on your mom,” he said. He opened a page and you saw Jensen stand out of the corner of your eye.

“That’s her mother?” he said.

“Abigail Leandry? Yes,” said the detective. Jensen shook his head. “Mr. Ackles, what-”

“Kayla. Kayla,” he said.

“Mr. Ackles, why do you know the deceased’s middle name?” asked the detective. Jensen was practically white now and you stood up, holding onto him.

“Did you know my mom?” you asked. “Jensen, did you know her?”

“Who’s her father?” asked Jensen.

“There’s no father on record. Mr. Ackles are you-” said the detective as Jensen ran his hand over his face. “What is your relation to the victim, Mr. Ackles?”

“I had a one night stand when I was twenty years old,” he said as he looked at you. “She said her name was Kayla.”

“What?” you said. The detective looked at the both of you and stood up. “Where are you going?”

“I think we need to do a paternity test as soon as possible.”

Two Hours Later

“I…” started Jensen for the fifth time as you sat in his passenger seat. You stared at the dashboard, Jensen opening his mouth again. “Y/N...if I knew…”

“I know,” you said. “Can you drive me back to my car now. I want to go home. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s after midnight. Why don’t I drop you off and we can swing by to get your car in the morning,” he said.

“Whatever.” You rested your head on the glass and shut your eyes. He started the truck but it didn’t move.

“We used protection. I wasn’t…” he said.

“It’s not a guarantee. Dude, you’re my dad. Whatever. Just take me home. Please,” you said.

“Where do you live,” he asked quietly. You gave him the address and twenty minutes later you were outside of your apartment, Jensen looking around. You put a hand on the door and he sighed. “Wait.”

“Jensen, I’m tired.”

“I know. I’m about to have a very fun time telling my wife about this. I just...this is not a safe neighborhood for a young woman to live alone in,” he said. “There’s stabbings and shootings around here all the time.”

“I grew up with methhead parents. That was kind of par for the course,” you said.

“I’m a stranger. I understand. Would you consider…” he said and you opened the door.

“I’m fine, Jensen. Go home. You have a long night still,” you said.

“I’ll pick you up at nine,” he said. You hummed and he leaned over. “Wait. Can I have your number?”

You gave him your phone and he put yours in his before putting his in yours and handing it back.

“Hey,” he said as you started to head inside. You groaned and turned around. He took a deep breath and swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“Goodnight, Jensen,” you said. You went inside your unit before he could say anything else and locked the door shut. You wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge, nothing in there but a six pack of beer from the brewery. You shook your head and looked in the cabinet, half a bottle of vodka still there. You took it out and poured yourself a glass, wincing as you drank it down.

Maybe you’d be lucky enough to wake up in the morning and find out it was all a nightmare.

“Y/N,” said Jensen as you started work the next morning. You saw Danneel talking with her brother across the room, both of them glancing at you. “Can we talk?”

You nodded and he wandered out back to the employee area, taking a seat at a picnic table. You sat across from him, Jensen bouncing his leg like crazy.

“I thought I should at least tell you...I met Kayla at a club when I was twenty. I was home visiting family and went out with some friends. She was from Houston. We talked, flirted a bit, she was...forward with what she was interested in and being young and stupid like I was, I felt as though I should have at least one one-night stand in my life. I wasn’t...comfortable with it at first but it happened. We used protection and I left and I never really thought of her ever again. Until now obviously.”

“What’s your point, Jensen?” you asked. He bit his bottom lip and stilled his leg.

“We both learned some things last night. We know your mom got involved with drugs. We know that’s why she was killed. The people that raised you probably did it. She has no family left. The people that took you weren’t good and they’re dead and you have no family out there, anywhere. I know you were in a group home when you were sixteen after they died. I know you bounced around a bit and wound up in foster care until you aged out last year. I know your home isn’t safe and your car is older than you.”

“Jensen.”

“I’d like the chance to give you a real dad. I’d like to be there for you the way I should have always been. De and I both do. We can give you everything you need or want,” he said.

“I understand,” you said. He smiled and you rolled your eyes. “This would look horrible for you if it got out that you have some stray, wouldn’t it. Your grand idea is to pay me off?”

“What?” he asked and you stood up. “Y/N, that’s not-”

“I did just fine my whole life without a real dad. I don’t need one now,” you said. You headed back towards the entrance and he caught up to you grabbing your shoulder.

“Stop. Wait a second. I-” he said as you spun around.

“Leave me alone. I shouldn’t even exist. I will do just fine without you like I always have.” You started walking again and headed to your car, sliding behind the wheel before you knew it. You drove home and sat in your apartment, expecting a call that you’d been fired.

Five minutes after being home you heard a car pull up out front. The doorbell rang and you ignored it. A text came in on your phone which you also promptly ignored.

“Y/N. It’s Jensen,” he said as he knocked on the door. “Kid, I...we don’t gotta be the fucking Brady Bunch. You don’t have to do anything. Just let me try. I’ll do all the work, I swear. I just...I just gotta know you’re okay. I know you’re not. This is so fucked up. You should have had a better life. You should have had me. I would have stopped you from living through all the shit you have. I’m sorry this happened to you.”

You stared at the door and pursed your lips.

“I want to know my daughter. I want to be part of her life. I don’t want to hide you from anyone,” he said. “Let me give you what you deserve.”

You walked over and slowly opened the door, Jensen wearing a worried smile.

“I’m not calling you dad.”

“You don’t have to,” he chuckled. “Can I come in?”

You swung the door open wider and he stepped past you, pausing in the hall as you closed up behind him.

“You live here?” he asked.

“No, I stay here for shits and giggles. Yes I live here,” you said. He stepped past the kitchen and into your family room where you took a seat on the old couch, Jensen spinning around. “Yeah, it’s shitty. I get it.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s in violation of health codes,” he said. He took a seat on the couch and made a face. “Can I push my luck and convince you to move out of here?”

“I don’t need charity, Jensen. You’ve given me enough already,” you said.

“Parents put a roof over their kids' heads. I’m a few years late so sue me but we gotta get you somewhere better than this,” he said.

“I drink. I swear. I walk around in my underwear and I have adult friends sleepover so there’s no way in hell I’m moving in with you.”

“I have a guest house,” he said. “It’s private. You’re not a child and I’ll do my best to not treat you like one. But it’s safe and nice and you can have your own space...just forty feet from where I live is all.”

You crossed your arms and he put on a pair of sad eyes.

“You’re milking it a bit don’t you think,” you said.

“I’m not acting,” he said. “I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want. I’ll give you money for food and gas and pay for the rest if you don’t want to talk to me. Just give me this. Let me get you out of this shithole.”

“I don’t need saving.”

“I didn’t say I was going to save you. I want to protect you. There’s a difference.”

He set a hand on his leg, turning it palm up. You watched it and after a moment set your hand in his.

“Don’t fuck me over,” you said.

“Not gonna happen,” he said. “Why don’t we run to the store to get some boxes and we can pack up your stuff?”

An hour later you were following Jensen in your car down the driveway of a very nice house. You parked behind him and got out, staring at it and the yard and turning your head to see the multiple cars in his garage.

“Y/N,” said Jensen. He was standing closer, giving you a smile. “We can move the boxes in a minute. Why don’t I show you the guest house first?”

“Okay,” you said. You followed him around a path that went behind the garage, a two story building back there.

“It’s only one bedroom. But it’s got it’s own office on the first floor,” he said. “It’s not that big. You can always stay in the house with the rest of us if you change your mind but I understand wanting your privacy.”

He unlocked the door and you stepped inside, Jensen mentioning something about dust but you were still floored by how nice it was. The kitchen was beautiful and open to the family room. The large wood dining table sat in a cute breakfast nook. There was a fireplace and big windows with a staircase in the back heading up to a second floor.

“...I know it’s a bit plain,” he said and you turned your head, Jensen smiling back at him. “You haven’t heard a word I said, have you.”

“This is too nice. Jensen this is way too nice. I gotta pay you rent for-” you said but he shook his head. “Jensen.”

“I have some contingencies for you staying here. You follow those and I’ll pay for this place and your food and gas. Okay?” he asked.

“What are they?” you asked.

“No big parties. You want to have something small that’s fine but no big blowouts,” he said.

“Do I look like I have a lot of friends?” you asked.

“I want you to go to school. You can keep your job at the brewery but you’re gonna go to school. I will pay for it but I want you to have an education.”

You pursed your lips but nodded.

“I’m getting you a new car, one much safer. Lastly, if you see the kids, please try not to swear in front of them. They’re young and we do our best to not do that around them,” he said.

“Fine,” you said. “Don’t expect me to start having big family dinners or that kind of thing.”

“I understand. I’ll move the boxes and um, maybe you can make up a list of things you need for me to get at the store.”

“I have everything I need in the boxes,” you said.

“You have one pan and like three plates,” he said.

“Yeah?” you asked.

“Y/N, that’s not normal.”

“You realize this isn’t normal right?” you said as you looked around.

“If you change your mind...I’m gonna get your things, let you unpack,” he said. He left and ten minutes later you had four boxes by the door, Jensen excusing himself away. You unpacked your kitchen items, knowing he might have had a point. But he was buying absolutely everything for you and it was a little ridiculous.

You took your bag of clothes upstairs, swallowing when you saw the bedroom and bathroom up there. It was like it was out of a magazine. There was even a small balcony off the room. You stepped out and looked around at a yard and saw a pool off in the distance.

There was no way in Hell you belonged in a place like that.

That Evening

You were cooking dinner for yourself with the over abundance of groceries Jensen had left at the door earlier when you heard a knock. You moved the pan off the heat and opened up, Jensen standing there with a smile.

“Can I help you?” you asked.

“We’re about to have dinner if you’d like to join us,” he said.

“You said I don’t have to talk to anyone if I don’t want to.”

“I know. I just wanted to offer. It’s your first...are you cooking?” he asked as he saw into the kitchen.

“Yes. I appreciate the offer but no thank you,” you said.

“I literally just gave you some extra pantry staples for the night before I can run to the store in the morning. You’re making dinner out of that stuff?” he asked.

“Yes?” you said. “You gave me pasta and olive oil. I will survive for the night.”

“You’re making pasta in a pan?” he asked.

“Yes. You put water in the pan and put in some pasta. It’s like magic,” you said.

“Alright. I’ll see you in the morning then,” he said. You shut the door on him and went back to the stove. You stared at the messy pan and turned the stove off. You sat down on the couch with your head in your hands.

He had never, never been anything but nice to you when you were a complete stranger. Of course he was going to go overboard since he found out you were his kid. You were being bitchy for no reason and he was still being nice.

There was a knock at the door but you saw him walk past the window. You got up and opened the door, a large pot sitting on the small bench by the door. He was halfway across the grass and you swallowed.

“Jensen?” you called out. He spun around and smiled.

“Keep it,” he said.

“What...what are you having? For dinner?”

“Pork roast with mashed sweet potatoes and roasted veggies. S’pretty good,” he said. “We got ice cream for dessert.”

You bit your bottom lip and he walked over to you, frowning as he stared down.

“I don’t blame you for not having much faith in people or being cautious of me. I really don’t. But I am your dad and you are my daughter. To you that means nothing. I understand. But you’re one of the most important things in my life now. It can be one sided if you want that. It can be that simple if you want that. Like I said, you can ignore me the rest of my life if you want and I would never blame you. But I can give you more than a place to stay and money. There’s shit a lot more important than those things. You can have it if you want it. Just come on inside if you decide you do.”

You crossed your arms and looked down. He didn’t leave yet and you took a few deep breaths.

“I’ve never really trusted anyone before,�� you said. “I’m not...I do want a family, Jensen. I do. But my life isn’t like this. I dropped out of high school and got a GED. I have hookups most nights. I’m probably going to get pregnant, marry the guy, have another kid, get divorced, live in a small old apartment while working two jobs and that’s my life. That’s gonna be life, Jensen. I’ve known that’s gonna be my life since I was a kid. I don’t have goals or dreams. I’m just here because you feel guilty and I can take advantage of that right now. I’m gonna push back and push back until you throw me out or I leave because I’m not gonna trust you. I’m never going to trust you, Jensen. You don’t have to feel bad about this situation. You don’t. You did nothing wrong. I’m not supposed to even be here. I think it’s better if you just gave me some money and I’ll leave and you never have to think about me ever again.”

“I’m gonna think about you everyday for the rest of my life,” he said. “You deserve a better life than what you described. You deserve a good job and to fall in love and have children because you want to. I want you, Y/N not out of guilt. I only feel guilty I wasn’t there for you. I want you because you’re my daughter and I love you. It’s all there is to it.”

You sighed and heard thunder in the distance.

“You can stay in the house. You can live with us. We’d love it if you did,” he said. You looked back at the guest house. For the first time you noticed the bags of concrete stacked up on the side.

“You were gonna tear it down, weren’t you,” you said.

“We didn’t need it. It was gonna be an extra garage space. But that’s-”

“Will I have my own room?” you asked quietly. “In the house.”

“Yes. Your own room, bathroom, big closet. Your own part of the house.”

“...How do I know you’re telling the truth?” you asked.

“You don’t. Have dinner with us. Talk to your siblings. Maybe they can give you some insight,” he said. You walked past him as a light rain came down, Jensen showing you in the back door and up a set of stairs. There were a pair of toddlers at a table, an older girl in the kitchen with Danneel as they dished up some plates. “Y/N’s going to join us.”

“That’s great,” said Danneel as she handed the girl a plate. “JJ, would you give that to Y/N and get her some silverware?”

“Sure,” she said. She walked over to you and you took the plate. “Are you mom and dad’s friend?”

“She’s your sister,” said Jensen as he helped in the kitchen. He put down a glass at an empty chair and you took a seat, JJ returning quickly with a fork and knife.

“You’re kinda old,” she said as she set them down.

“You’re kinda short,” you said.

“Am not,” she said as she went to her seat.

“Yeah you are,” said the littlest girl. Jensen had brought her in to get donuts a few times and you saw her recognize you. “Hi!”

“Hi Arrow,” you said with a smile.

“JJ, Arrow, Zepp,” said Jensen as he leaned over the back of her chair and poured a glass of water for you from the carafe. “This is Y/N and she’s gonna be around quite a bit more we hope.”

“Okay. Who’s your favorite princess?” asked Arrow.

“Hm. That’s a tough one. I don’t know if she qualifies as a princess but I always liked Rapunzel,” you said as Jensen and Danneel carried over their plates. “Who’s your favorite?”

An hour later you were still discussing Disney characters with the kids, Jensen scooping up the twins under each arm.

“Daddy,” groaned Zeppelin as he was spun upside down. “We were playing.”

“You two and your sister need baths, stinkers, and then a bedtime story. How’s that sound?” he asked.

“Can Y/N read it?” he asked as he looked at you.

“Sure,” you said.

“Yay!” he said.

“We’ll be about half an hour with these guys. If you want to come up I can show you your space,” said Jensen. You nodded and followed them all upstairs. Danneel went off with JJ down a hall, Jensen nodding towards one end. “That’s me and De over there. Kids are down that hall and the guest suite and loft is to the right.”

“Thanks,” you said. You wandered down the hall and found a large open space with a couch and TV, more of an adult hang out space from the looks of it. There was a door nearby and you opened it, walking into a large bedroom with a canopy bed. “Holy shit.”

It was nicer than the guest house and you walked around, stepping into a beautiful on suite bathroom with double vanities, a separate shower and a giant ass tub. The walk in closet was huge and you were absolutely in love with the wide window bench and bookcases.

“Hey,” said Jensen behind you. You spun around and saw him sporting a partially wet shirt. “You like it?”

“It’s warm,” you said.

“Well feel free to move some clothes and stuff in for the night. There’s a few raincoats in the front hall closet downstairs. I gotta try and get these three washed before the storm hits,” he said.

“It’s no problem,” you said. He smiled and started to leave when you took a step forward. “Jensen?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about before, how I acted and what I said. No one’s ever taken care of me and not wanted something in return,” you said.

“Apology accepted. All I will ever want is you to be happy. We’ll get there eventually,” he said. He left and after exploring the room for a few more minutes, you took a raincoat from the front closet and went outside, packing up most of your things and bringing them up to your new room. You’d just set a box down when a toddler in a pair up pull ups ran into your room.

“Y/N, can I have a story now?” asked Zeppelin.

“Zepp...Zeppy…” you heard Jensen call from somewhere else.

“You wanna show me your room and then I can tell you a story?” you asked. He grabbed your hand and pulled you out, Jensen sighing as he found you in the hall. “I got him.”

“Well someone needs his pajamas on,” said Jensen. Zeppelin grumbled but he did tug on his shirt at least once you were in his room. Jensen tugged his pants on and Zeppelin rushed over to his bookcase, picking out one and handing it to you. He crawled up in bed and you sat on the stool nearby, reading and showing him the pages for about ten minutes before you watched him close his eyes and huff quietly.

“Night, little guy,” you said. You put the book on his nightstand and set the stool back. Jensen smiled and flicked the light off by the door, a nightlight keeping the space dimly lit. He shut the door and you were quiet as you saw Danneel duck out of a room. He nodded and you followed the two of them to the loft area, taking a seat on the end of the couch as he settled into a chair, Danneel sitting close by.

“I think Zepp’s a fan,” she said with a smile. “I think they all are.”

“Kids don’t tend to be the problem in these situations,” you said. You looked at her and she nodded. “Are you...okay-”

“I would much rather have you stay in this house than out there by yourself. You’ve been on your own enough,” she said.

“What was your reaction?” you asked as you quickly glanced to Jensen.

“A bit of shock. But I saw the test results and he has…” she said, Jensen nodding. “He mentioned once when you first started working at the brewery about feeling protective of you. We both assumed it was because you were young and on your own and trying to get by. I’ve never been quite that bad but when he first started out after he left home, things were tight for him. We understand struggling a bit. Not to the same extent as you obviously but we get it. Now with what you know, I think there was some paternal instinct coming out he didn’t quite see.”

“In my experience, parents aren’t good things. My life got better after them,” you said. “But I’m willing to try if he is.”

“All of us will,” said Jensen. “It’ll take time which will be the hard part probably but if you allow us, we can be parents to you too. We won’t make rules for you. You’re an adult and we’ll treat you like one. But we’ll treat you like our child too. De and I will probably screw that up sometimes so all I ask is that you let us slip up from time to time and hopefully this can turn out the way we hope it does.”

“Do I have to go to college?” you asked. Jensen glanced to Danneel and back at you. “I don’t have the best grades and I literally dropped out my senior year. Does a community college even take a GED?”

“I was thinking more like UT,” he said. You laughed and he raised an eyebrow.

“You’re serious? I didn’t even take SATs or ACTs or…” you trailed off as you turned to Danneel who shrugged. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can.”

“No, I can’t,” you scoffed. You gripped the corner of the armchair and he sighed. “I can’t-”

“Shh,” he said as he got up. He squatted down in front of you and smiled. “Don’t be scared. We’ll figure it out together, all of us. That room over there? That is your bedroom now and no one will ever kick you out of it. I don’t want you leaving until you’re ready and I think we all know you’re a long way away from that. I believe you can go to school and do anything you want to. I’ll believe for the both of us right now, okay?”

“I’m too stupid. I don’t fit in aside from with sleazy guys,” you said.

“I disagree with that,” he said. “Trust me?”

You sighed but gave him a nod.

“I know it’s been a long day and you didn’t get a lot of sleep last night but there is a bowl of ice cream downstairs with your name on it if you’re interested,” he said.

“Maybe. I’d like to wash up,” you said. “I know today was kind of busy but I still have work in the morning right?”

“Don’t worry about work right now. We go it covered,” said Danneel. “I can show you where stuff is in your bathroom.”

You swallowed but nodded, following her back into your room and the bathroom. A part of you was expecting her to say something about wanting you gone. After all you technically weren’t hers. You were barely Jensen’s.

“There’s a bunch of stuff like soap and shampoo and that kind of stuff in here,” she said, opening up a tall cabinet door. “Towels are up top. There’s not a hair dryer in here but I can just drop mine off outside on your bed if you want?”

“Air dry is fine,” you said quietly.

“Honestly I do the same most of the time,” she said. “There are some pads and tampons under the sink but I gotta run to a few stores in the morning anyways so maybe you can come with and we can get whatever brand you like.”

“I don’t…” you said as she cocked her head. “I get all my supplies from a free clinic. I can’t...I couldn’t afford that brand name stuff before.”

“Oh,” she said. She made a strange face and shook her head. “Well we can try them out until we find one you like.”

“Okay,” you said.

“If you need anything just let me know,” she said. She walked past you but you heard her pause in the doorway. “Y/N a bit of advice.”

You turned around and waited for her to drop the nice act.

“Yeah?”

“Stay away from sleazy guys. They just want sex. They don’t care about you.”

“I know that.”

“Then do me a favor and the next time you spend the night with a guy, do it cause you feel a connection with him. There’s a difference.”

“I get that too.”

“Then why sleep around?”

“Because I’ll take a fake connection over no connection.”

“You don’t need a man to be happy,” she said. “Jensen and I spend a lot of time apart.”

“What is your point?” you sighed.

“Don’t fuck random guys cause you’re lonely. You might not realize this yet but you’re never gonna be alone ever again. Get used to us cause you’re fucking ours and we want better for you than a random fuck. You got that?”

“You don’t talk to me the way Jensen does,” you said quietly.

“Because he’s in pain right now and he is so scared of setting you off. I on the other hand know what it’s like to be a young woman. I won’t tell you not to have your fun. But have it with somebody special. Good guys do exist. Good dads exist. He’s not gonna hurt you. You said you’d try out there so please try.”

“Do you wish I would go?”

“I wish someday you realize what a silly question that is to be asking,” she said. “I might barely be old enough to be your mother but you didn’t just get a dad with this. You have him and you have me and three half-siblings and a whole shitload of other people. So the next time you’re lonely, you come to one of us and maybe the next guy you sleep with you can do it cause he’s a good guy. Understand?”

“Yes,” you said. She nodded and started to leave when you cleared your throat. “Danneel?”

“Yeah?” she asked as she turned around.

“Where do you meet nice guys? I haven’t had much luck,” you said.

“You’re young. Don’t worry about it, sweetie,” she said as some thunder shook the house. “Wash up at the sink. Jensen gets a wee paranoid about showers in thunderstorms.”

“I’m the same way,” you said.

“You two must be related or something,” she smirked.

“Seriously,” you said.

“Aw, you got his bitch face too,” she laughed. “Come down when you’re ready. We’ll save you some ice cream.”

“Thanks,” you said. She shut the bedroom door after herself and you took out a few things from the cabinet along with what you’d brought along. Fifteen minutes later your face was washed and you’d changed into pajamas, a pair of old sweatpants and a free shirt you’d gotten from the brewery. You threw your hair up in a bun and took a deep breath.

You wandered out of the room and down the hall, getting mixed up for a moment before you found the stairs down. Danneel was sitting on the countertop with a bowl in her hand, Jensen busy decorating his own with crumbled up cookies.

“Hey,” he said. He slid the bowl across the counter and stuck a spoon in it. “Prepare to be amazed.”

“Mhm,” you said. You scooped up a spoonful and took a bite, tilting your head. “Is that...whiskey?”

“Just a smidge. That, vanilla ice cream and some cookies on top? So good,” he said as he started to make himself a bowl. “We were away once back in De’s neck of the woods and had it at dinner once. Obviously my version is superior…” he said as he got a whack from Danneel. “It’s a pretty good knock off.”

“Jensen always manages to pick out the best desserts. Meanwhile I always pick the weird ones,” she laughed.

“Oh next time we’re in New York we gotta take her to that hole in the wall place,” said Jensen.

“New York City?” you asked.

“Mhm,” he hummed. You sat up on the counter across from Danneel and sucked on your spoon, Jensen taking a spot near you when he’d finished. “How’d you end up down here. You were in Dallas up until last year weren’t you.”

“Yeah. A couple friends were gonna move down here so I went with them. I thought a new place might be good for me. They turned out to not be great friends so I wound up in an assisted place,” you said.

“Well I’m glad you came,” he said. “You been a lot of places yet?”

“Not really,” you said.

“You ever been to Franklin’s?” asked Danneel. “The barbecue place?”

“I’ve never been out to eat,” you said.

“Ever?” she asked.

“Sometimes we’d sit in McDonald’s,” you said.

“Well we’re definitely going out to dinner tomorrow,” said Jensen. “We can get whatever you like.”

“That sounds good,” you said. You took a few more bites and watched the lights flicker.

“Uh oh,” he said just as the power went out. You stilled as he slid off the counter in the dark. They both moved around as you sat still, a lamp turning on nearby. You jumped and Jensen chuckled. “Ah, there we go. That’s…”

You jumped off the counter when he ran a hand over your head.

“It’s-“

“I don’t like the dark,” you said. You set the bowl down and started to walk around, bumping into him and then Danneel. “I don’t…”

You stepped over to the lamp on the table, taking a seat and a few deep breaths.

“Jay.”

Jensen went off into another part of the house, returning with two more camping lamps. He turned them on and the room got brighter.

“There we go, that’s better isn’t it?” asked Jensen. Danneel brought over your ice cream and you took a deep breath. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just don’t like the dark,” you said. You squeezed your leg and relaxed, Jensen wandering off, returning with a flashlight. He sat it next to you as you picked up your spoon and began eating again. There was a flutter of feet upstairs for a moment and you heard a whimper come from the top of the steps. Danneel got up and went over to the bottom, looking up with a frown.

“How about you sleep in your sister’s room tonight?” she asked as she went up. You finished with your bowl, Jensen leaning back in his chair.

“He’s scared of the dark too,” said Jensen.

“I’m not scared. I said I don’t like it.”

“Alright. It’s not an interrogation,” he said. He ate from his bowl, keeping a side eye on you. “You know we have a security system and protection here.”

“You’re rich, of course you do,” you said. You stared down to an empty hall and he grabbed the flashlight. He clicked it on and pointed it down there. You rolled your eyes and sat back. Jensen set the extra cookies on the table, adding more to his ice cream as you stared down the dark hall again.

“Y/N. There’s nobody here,” he said.

“I know that,” you said.

“It’s okay to be scared of the dark you know.” He popped a cookie in his mouth and you gave him a glare. Thunder cracked and you jumped in your seat. He moved over to the chair next you and you shut your eyes. “Can I give you a hug?”

“What?”

“Is it okay if I give you a hug?” he asked.

“No,” you said.

“Okay.” You got up and flinched when it thundered again. You started to wander around the kitchen, Jensen watching you like a hawk. You found a seat at the counter and stared down the hall, pouting when you heard him get up. “Don’t kick my ass for this.”

“Kick your ass for what?” you said just as he stopped by your seat and wrapped his arms around you. You took a deep breath and he turned you so you weren’t facing the hall. You looked up at him and he smiled.

“Come on,” he said. He pulled you out of your seat and walked over to the couch with an arm around you. You sat down next to him, Jensen pulling a blanket draped over the back onto you.

“Don’t…” you said when he hugged you again. He leaned back and you took a deep breath. He nodded and moved his arms away.

“I think I understand why you don’t like the dark,” he said.

“I just...I don’t know you either.”

“I know but I’m your dad.”

“That doesn’t mean jackshit to me.”

“In my world it does. If you want a hug and me to sit with you while we wait for the power to come back on, that’s up to you.”

“Fine,” you mumbled. You turned to him and groaned. “I said fine, you can hug me.”

“I see you’re just as stubborn as I am sometimes,” he said. He moved closer and pulled you into his side. After a few minutes you relaxed, watching the lightning outside the windows. “Feelin’ better?”

“There was a drug dealer my parents owed money to once. He took me when it was storming one night as collateral. They didn’t pay him back on time but he felt sorry for me or something so he dropped me off at a fire station. I said I ran away.”

“How old were you?”

“Five, six. Somewhere around there,” you said.

“He took you from your house?” asked Jensen.

“I mean, we never lock a door. It was a roof and four walls. I’d barely call it liveable,” you said.

“Did you tell the police?”

“Jensen,” you said, tilting your head up at him. “My parents were big druggies. We didn’t call the cops. That sort of thing just didn’t happen in our environment.”

“Have you ever…” he asked.

“No. I mean...I’ve had a hit or two off a joint before but no, no drugs. I didn’t like the weed that much either to be honest,” you said.

“You said you drink earlier today.”

“Like a beer a night, not even.”

“Just getting to know you...and see that there must have been someone that taught you not to be that way.”

“I had a grandma. She was nice. She was normal. She tried to get custody of me a few times but my parents threatened to stop letting her see me. I guess they weren’t really my parents, were they.”

“No, not really,” he said. He ran his hand over your head and you saw Danneel come back down. She took a seat in the corner with the package of cookies and set a lamp down on the coffee table. “How’s the boy?”

“Tuckered out in lil sis’ bed,” she said. “The battery on his nightlight was dead so he woke up in the dark.”

“Well the dark can be scary. I guarantee at least two of them wind up in bed with us by the time the night’s through.”

You were quiet as they talked about plans for tomorrow, who was going to do what chores, talking amongst themselves about where to take you for dinner. Jensen nudged you and you glanced up, a smile on his face.

“You want to go shopping with De tomorrow?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. You listened to the rain come down harder and breathed deeply. You tensed up when Jensen shifted but he put his hand back on your head and shushed you. “I’ve kinda always wanted to try brisket.”

“I think we’re getting barbecue for dinner then,” he said. The lights turned back on and you let out a sigh, Jensen rubbing your back as you sat up. “Go ahead and keep one of those lamps and the flashlight in your room in case it happens again.”

“Thanks,” you said as you stood. “I’ll uh, see you guys tomorrow then.

“See you in the morning, Y/N.”

Six Months Later

“Jensen,” you said as you leaned back against the outdoor grill.

“Y/N…” he said as you scooted over more towards the countertop. “Yes honey?”

“Who’s that guy, the young one,” you said as you nodded out to the yard where a few tables were set up, people standing around.

“Baby face over there is Alex. He worked on the last couple seasons of the show with me. I’ve been meaning to have him and the rest of the wacky nutjobs over for awhile now. You’re a big girl, you can say hi to my friends if you want,” he said as he flipped a burger.

“Mhm,” you hummed, looking over your shoulder. You saw him talking to Jared with a beer in his hand. His head turned and he saw you, flashing you a quick smile. You returned it and heard a grunt.

“He’s six years older than you,” said Jensen as he sipped from his can.

“I literally dated a like forty year old last year.”

“Gah, why, why do you tell me things like that, I…” he trailed off when he saw you giggling to yourself. “Okay you little shit, how about this?”

“How about-”

“Hey Alex! Y/N wants to talk to you!” shouted Jensen out to the yard so just about every person there turned in your direction.

“I’m eating your brownie now,” you said. You grabbed the chocolate square off the plate nearby and popped it into your mouth as he put his hands on his hips.

“You’re making me more later, missy,” he said. He ruffled your hair and messed it up just as you caught Alex walk over.

“I am so sorry for him,” you said as you tried to fix the strands.

“You have to live with him. I feel sorry for you,” he laughed. “Alex.”

“Y/N,” you said. You took your beer and walked over towards the pool, Alex smirking to himself. “What? How bad did he mess up my hair?”

“Oh you’re perfect. It’s just nice to have someone to share the pain with,” he said. “He was really excited to find out about you you know. Like obnoxiously excited.”

“He’s alright,” you said with a shrug. You turned and looked back at the grill where he was working, Danneel coming out with Arrow on her hip. “They’ve grown on me. You must be an actor then if you’re at the first annual SPN whatever he and Jared are calling this.”

“They told me free beer and I was sold,” he said. “But yeah, I act. Kinda model every once in a while but that sounds really douchey so I try not to talk about it much.”

“Legit both Jay and De did it so my shock of all things Hollywood has kind of wavered by this point,” you said. “What’s California like? Is it as hot as here?”

“Not as bad. I’m from Canada actually,” he said. “The not too cold part which is nice.”

“I would take a cold day every once in a while,” you said. “How long are you here for?”

“About a week. I was gonna roadtrip down to a place called Galveston one day. Apparently it’s a beach town on the gulf. I thought that’d be fun,” he said.

“We went last month. It was so cool. I’d never been to a beach before or seen the ocean. There’s this place with amazing chili cheese fries. You gotta try them at night when it gets a bit cooler out,” you said. “My dad knows the name. I’ll have to…”

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’ve never called Jensen dad before is all,” you said. You bit your bottom lip and Alex smiled.

“Between you and me, he’s really grateful you guys found each other. He loves you a lot. I know it’s gotta be a thousand kinds of weird but he is really, really proud of you. He brags about you all the time in the group chat.”

“Of course he does. He’s a dork.”

“Oh I one hundred percent agree with that,” he chuckled. He took a sip of his beer and tilted his head. “I know this is like super spur of the moment but would you want to like, go to the beach with me? Some of the guys were gonna come that were sticking around here but if you’re free…”

“I don’t know,” you said as you rubbed the back of your neck. “Like I would totally hang out with you. It’s just like the adult trip, you know? It’s for you guys. Besides I was supposed to watch my siblings that day,” you said.

“Well of course you can come,” said Jensen as he popped up behind you. You flinched and he had two plates with burgers on them, handing you each one. “She loved the beach. Turned into a little kid. She made a sandcastle that-”

“Jensen,” you groaned, your face hot as he cleared his throat.

“We’ll get a sitter. You can ride with Alex,” he said. He patted your back and walked off as you sighed.

“Oh my God,” you said. Alex just laughed as he took a bite of his burger. You knew you were blushing and prayed that he didn’t notice.

“So how’s school?” he asked.

“You see that one up there? That’s Leo,” said Alex, hours and hours later. You were sitting on the edge of the pool with your feet in the water, everyone else hanging out on the other side of the house around the bonfire.

“If I ever take Astrology as an elective I’ll be sure to call you to help me study,” you said. You leaned back on your palms, Alex laughing.

“You’re the one smarter than me,” he said.

“When I apply myself it turns out I actually am,” you said. “Mostly. A business degree isn’t very fascinating though.”

“No but it’s security which I think is really good thing for you.”

“Why?”

“Sounds like you grew up rough was all. It’s not a bad thing to have something solid to fall back on, something safe,” he said.

“This is very true. There is a guy that runs one of the food trucks that comes to the brewery, he keeps trying to convince me to open up a restaurant with him once I get my degree.”

“Do you want to?”

“No but he’s sweet so I try to let him down gently.”

“He your boyfriend?”

“No. Don’t have one,” you said.

“Cool.”

“Was that your subtle way of seeing if I was single?” you asked.

“Seems to have worked,” he smirked. You moved closer and he did the same until you paused. “Sorry. I read this wrong.”

“No, you didn’t. I just...you’re the kind of guy that takes someone out on dates and waits and is slow and nice and...you’re a good guy, right? I can’t deal with a-”

He pecked a soft kiss to your lips, lingering for a moment before he pulled back. He smiled and kicked his feet in the water.

“You’re cute when you blush,” he said. You bumped his arm and he bumped yours back. “You are.”

“Loser,” you said.

“Gonna push you in the ocean for that,” he smirked. He gave your hand a squeeze and pulled his feet out of the water. “Let’s hang out by the fire. It’s getting cold over here anyways.”

“Okay,” you said gently. He pulled you to your feet and you giggled. “I don’t know why I just did that.”

“It’s alright. I like that sound,” he said. He let go of your hand as you got closer to the fire, Alex stopping with you at the table with some leftover desserts still out. “I uh, I’m not perfect...or have a degree...or am tall.”

“Don’t really give a shit about that stuff,” you said.

“Good,” he said. You swiped some cookies for yourselves and found an empty pair of chairs together, the group getting quiet when you sat but Jensen shockingly not using the opportunity to tease you.

“That it?” you asked as you came back inside from taking out a bag of trash a few hours later.

“Yup. Thanks for helping us clean up,” said Jensen. You stretched and headed upstairs, hearing a tut from him along the way. “He’s a good friend. Just go slow, okay?”

“I know,” you said. “Goodnight. Dad.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said with a smile.

___________

#spn #supernatural #jensen x daughter!reader #jensen ackles #au #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #rpf #jensen ackles x daughter!reader #jensen fanfiction #one shot #spn one shot

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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

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AN: Here’s part 2 of my nurse reader and Levi request! It recently came to my attention that I was lowkey confused, I realize that you guys were asking for part 2 to my solider Levi and princess reader but I’ve been working on this one instead😂😂 So I’ll try and get to that other one soon.

ALSO 139 SPOILERS

Part 1

Summary: Levi’s dreams are coming true

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: mentions of scarring, blood, struggling to walk, kissing, angst

_______

The first few weeks were rough, he struggled to do the most mundane tasks, his fingers shook as he gripped a pen, his breathing was labored when he climbed stairs. He hated every second of it, he knew that this was part of being injured and recovering, but still, he felt weak and exposed. He also knew that it was unlikely that he would ever be the same as he was before his accident, this didn’t bother him too much. However, the thought of you only knew him as a frail wounded soldier rubbed him the wrong way.

He used this as motivation to better his condition, with the knowledge that he would not function the same as before. He quickly found out that holding a pen in his right hand was now much too difficult, so he began practicing with his left instead. He also realized that being in a wheelchair was not for him. He hated being pushed by anyone, mainly because Gabi once lost control and sent him rolling down a busy street. So he began to use a cane or crutch, he also found out that he tired much faster using this method. But he much preferred it to the chair.

After only three months of being discharged, Onyankopon had sniffed out an affordable space to open a modest cafe. The space also had a short set of stairs that led to a one-bedroom apartment above, which originally deterred Onyankopon from investing due to Levi’s state. But Levi had insisted that he would manage, so on a gloomy Thursday afternoon, they signed the papers and bought the place. Gabi and Flaco had been ecstatic to help decorate the space, scouring antique shops and pawn shops for the best (and cheapest) pieces of furniture.

Levi had watched the pair carry in the first table, a round wooden piece fit for two along with mismatched chairs to go along with it. At first, Levi disliked the way the furniture clashed, but he soon grew to like it. As the kids slowly carried in more each week the space began to feel homier. The kitchen in the back was teeming with tins of tea, recipes that Onyankopon swore by were tacked up on bulletin boards. Each weekend Onyankopon would bring the kids back with armloads of ingredients to test out the recipes he had been gathering while Levi had been in the hospital.

Soon they had perfected a menu, with croissants that were crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside, sticky-sweet cinnamon rolls, and lemon tarts. Levi had never been a fan of sweets, but he knew that most people were, so each weekend they slaved over the stoves and made huge messes of flour and sugar. After two months the cafe was rather put together, tables and chairs of all sorts spread about the room in an inviting pattern. A chalkboard menu that was slowly expanding was sprawled out over the main counter, which was being stocked with pastries.

Onyankopon had brought in a box full of glassware that he had found on the side of the street, Levi had sneered at him as he watched him carefully wash them.

“What are you planning to do with those?” Levi asked as Onyankopon scrubbed the dust off of the glass.

“We can use them as centerpieces. Maybe we could cut some flowers from that field?” He said as he placed the glass vases and cups on the drying rack.

“I suppose,” Levi grumbled, happy that he hadn’t planned on using them as cups.

Finally, the day came when the menu was rounded enough and the furniture polished to open the shop. Levi hated to admit his nerves, but the truth was that his stomach was in knots and his heart was hammering out of his chest as he flipped the wooden sign on the door from closed to open.

Gabi had whooped and hollered, Falco had clapped ecstatically and Onyankopon popped open a bottle of champagne. Levi had given them the slightest of smiles as the group retreated behind the counter to wait for someone to wander in. Levi sat back on a stool that Falco had thrifted for behind the counter, his cane resting against his knee as he watched the door with a steady gaze.

“Can I be in charge of the pastries?” Gabi pleaded, big brown eyes wide as she clasped her hands together. Onyankopon shot a sideways look to Levi who inhaled sharply.

“As long as you don’t spit in the food.” Levi relented and Gabi leaped into the air in her excitement before jogging back into the kitchen to take stock.

“Falco you can carry food out.” Onyankopon offered and Falco nodded a gleam of determination in his golden eyes.

“I’ll run the register and Levi you can brew the tea.” Onyankopon looked pleased with himself after assigning the roles and Levi shrugged in indifference. The minutes ticked by and the door remained shut, the wide windows let the warm morning sun seep into the room, yet it carried no joy. Or at least it didn’t summon any deep feelings from within Levi. Just when Levi was about to give up and go brew himself his own tea before calling it a day, the door opened, the bell tinkling softly.

His mouth fell open when he saw you, in your plain clothes, a pair of dark dress pants and a silk dress shirt. Your purse was slung over your shoulder and in your hands was a bright bouquet of flowers. You pushed some stray strands of hair off of your face as you stepped into the cafe.

“(Y/n)! You made it!” Falco rushed around the counter and took your hand in his to lead you to the counter. You laughed warmly and allowed the young boy to drag you across the room.

“You’re the first person to come in.” Onyankopon mused softly as he stood behind the register, hands placed firmly on the counter. Your eyes widened in surprise before another warm grin passes placidly across your features.

“I am?” You asked, leaning on the counter and throwing a playful glance at Levi who was half hiding behind Onyankopon.

“It’s true.” Gabi groaned dramatically fanning her face, she had been fidgeting anxiously in the back for the past hour eager to serve guests.

“What can I get the good nurse?” Onyankopon steered the conversation back to business as usual.

“Ah, I’d love a cup of camomile and hmm maybe one of those lemon tarts.” You hummed, leaning over to examine the pastries that had been set on display in the glass containers.

“Excellent choice, that’ll be seven pounds.” Onyankopon slid the key into the keyhole in the register and the old thing sprang open, spilling some change. He chuckled as he awkwardly collected the spare change.

“Takes a gentle hand.” He explained as you smiled at him with the money in hand. Levi sighed and reached around Onyankopon to take the money as the larger man squatted down to retrieve the stubborn coins.

“Congratulations Captain, you’ve made this place your own.” You said, slipping the money into his hands, the pads of your fingertips brushing his calloused palm.

“Thank you, nurse (L/n).” He mumbled, trying in vain to fight off the butterflies swarming in his stomach.

“You’re so very welcome.” You watched as the rag-tag bunch began to hustle around the kitchen, Levi limped to the stove and began to boil the water in the kettle, Gabi was pulling on a pair of gloves before she began to inspect the pastries, looking for the best one. Falco gestured for you to follow him to that round table at the front of the store, right by the large window. You covered your mouth to hide an affectionate grin as he pulled the chair out for you. You sat and thanked him as you made yourself comfortable.

“I’ll bring your food to you miss.” He even did a bow which was when you could no longer hide your amusement.

“Falco, too much.” Onyankopon was also laughing behind the counter as the young boy scurried back to grab your pastry, which Gabi had carefully chosen just for you. Levi was now steeping the leaves in one of the mismatched sets of china that they had collected. Once the tea was steeped to perfection he set it on the tray with the pastry and Falco carefully picked it up, using both hands.

He set the steaming plates in front of you and you thanked him once more. You felt a bit awkward as the group watched with expectant eyes as you took the first bite. Your eyes lit up, it was just the perfect mixture of sweet and sour, the breading crumbling on your tongue.

You nodded and held a thumbs up which made Gabi clap her hands and squeal. Falco laughed and shook her shoulder, a giddy gleam in his eyes. Levi bit back another smile, not eager to let you pull them from his lips so easily. A few moments after you had begun to eat, the door tinkled open again, this time it was an older couple. They ordered and sat down near you, murmuring about the decor and such. As the morning wore on, more people began to wander into the shop, families and starry-eyed couples alike. You sat at your table, a small amount of paperwork from the hospital spread across the tabletop. You worked well into the afternoon, not necessarily because you needed to but because you wanted to catch Levi and check in on him.

You got your chance when the crowd ebbed and the orders slowed. The shop was once more empty and you could see the way that Levi limped between the sink and the stove. You gathered your courage and stood from your spot, leaving your purse and papers behind. Onyankopon was helping the kids in the back as they prepped for the pastries for tomorrow.

“I’ll dry if you wash.” You offered and Levi shot you a look over his shoulder.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I’ve been taking up that table all day, let me earn my keep.” You teased, carefully stepping behind the counter and into the kitchen. He did not oppose as you sidled up beside him and began to towel dry the dishes he had already scrubbed clean. You worked like this for a few minutes in silence, the sound of dishes and sloshing of water filling the air between you.

“You seem to have healed well.” You commented as you accepted another clean plate.

“Hm.” He hummed, eyes trained on his task. You noted that he no longer wore bandages on his hand where his fingers had once been.

“How’s your knee?” You asked and he bristled a bit.

“....it’s fine.” He said after a slight pause.

“I can look at it if you’d like.” You offered and he inhaled slowly before releasing his breath in one long exhale.

“I’m fine.”

“Then let me look at your fingers, if you are doing dishes it’s likely to get infected.” You were a tad embarrassed to admit that you simply wanted to feel his skin against yours once more. But luckily Levi felt the same. He paused his work and grabbed a towel to dry his hands off before slowly extending them to you. You accepted them and ran your fingers over the callouses that decorated his palms before pulling his hand closer to your face to get a good look at the nubs where his fingers once were.

Just as you had thought, they were fully healed with puckering pink flesh from where stitches had once been.

“They look well, you should be fine, just...be mindful of how much time you spend washing the dishes.” You hummed, turning his hand over in yours to examine the back of it, old and new scars littered the expanse of his hands and up to his forearm.

“Okay.” His words were breathy and a bit choked. You snuck a glance up at his face and smiled sheepishly at him as you released his hand, which fell slowly back to his side. His cheeks were a soft pink, hints of a blush from the heat of your touch alone.

“I would suggest looking into some gloves.” You advised and he rolled his eyes.

“How am I supposed to wear gloves without my fingers?” He asked, holding his hand up as if to emphasize the loss.

“You seem to have adapted well, I’m sure you can figure something out.” You assured him with a nudge to his side before you fell back into the easy rhythm of drying the dishes.

____

You fell into a routine, stopping by when the cafe first opened to grab a cup of tea before your shift. Then you would go off to work and return later that afternoon to help Levi clean up. One rainy day you came in an hour later than usual, your scrubs soaked as you had forgotten an umbrella. Onyankopon and the kids had left earlier that week to go get the other cadets from Paradis, leaving Levi to tend to the shop alone.

As you entered you flipped the sign to closed and then wrung your sopping wet hair. Levi stood behind the counter, watching you with his one steel eye.

“What took you so long?” He asked before turning to do the dishes. You scoffed and looked back out at the window, the rain was pelting down mercilessly against the glass. But you said nothing, having learned long ago that arguing with him was pointless.

“What have you got for me?” You asked instead wanting to throw yourself into the work he had for you. He put you to work in the kitchen, taking stock and sweeping the floors until you thought that you would collapse. It wasn’t that the work that was taxing, but the work on top of the hours you had already clocked in on your feet at the hospital.

When he was pleased with your cleaning he waved you off with a dismissive flick of his wrist. Your clothes were still wet, as you watched him thumb through his earnings of the day in the register. You now knew a fraction of what he had put those cadets through all those years ago.

“Levi?” You tested, his name falling sweetly from your lips. He turned slowly, pausing his counting to give you his full attention.

“What is it?” He asked, placing the change back into the register.

“How would you like to get some dinner?” You offered with a shy smile. His eyes widened and he whipped around to shut the register.

“Only if you’re buying.”

____

So now you sat across the table from him, your leg bouncing anxiously under the table inside the warm tavern. He seemed much less anxious, hands folded in front of him and his gaze void of any particular emotion.

“So...you come here often?” You tried to start the conversation, for the first time finding it difficult.

“No actually, I despise these places.” He answered literally and you nearly blanched, worried that you may have upset him or offended him in some way by bringing him here.

“What? We don’t have to stay then we can-” You were reaching for your purse but he held up a hand to stop you.

“It’s fine.” He assured you and you relaxed back into your seat.

“Why do you hate these places?” You asked out of curiosity.

“Not a fan of drunk men and shitty tavern food.” He shrugged indifferently. If he had been feeling braver he would have told you that it reminded him of his childhood and his mean drunk uncle.

“Ah, I see.” Your shoulders slumped and you cleared your throat to fill the silence.

“I don’t usually come to bars often either. Can’t trust me around beer.” You joked but Levi arched a thin brow.

“Why’s that?”

“Oh, my dad was a drunk and they say that it runs in the family. So I’ll never touch the stuff.” You shrugged and Levi was caught off guard with your honesty. He only hummed in response. Not long after that, the food arrived and the two of you ate in near silence, the sounds of forks scraping plates and wine sloshing in glasses. You paid for dinner and the two of you slowly made your way back down the street, which was slick with rainwater. You eyed Levi’s arm a bit longingly, wanting to feel his warmth pressed against you. You rubbed your biceps in an attempt to get the message across but he seemed clueless still. So you sighed and decided to take yet another risk, in one swift motion you slid your arm through his and he went rigid. His steps faltered and you looked over at him with a smirk curling at the corner of your lips.

“Is...this alright?” you asked and he nodded tensely before resuming his pace. You were grateful that his apartment was so close to the tavern, as it began to pour once more. But of course, you could not run because you feared that he would injure himself, so the two of you simply picked up your pace. Levi held the door for you and the two of you stumbled into the dark cafe, the tables and chairs looked almost like skeletons as you weaved your way through them to the back set of stairs.

“You can stay if you’d like.” he offered, a glimmer of uncertainty flashing over his features, clearly he was treading just as lightly as you were.

“I’d like that very much.” You grinned and the two of you climbed the stairs to his small apartment. The floorplan was open, the kitchen and living room were all in one space. The furniture was also mismatched here, he set about lighting candles even though you knew that the building had electricity. You wondered if it was a force of habit, all of his years on that island with no electricity, or if it was an attempt to set the mood. You said nothing all the same as the candles set the room aglow in warm light.

“It’s nice,” you commented and Levi hummed in agreement.

“It’s no barracks.” He said as he shook the match, a small trail of smoke curling up from his fingertips.

“Do you miss the military?” You asked as you slipped out of your shoes. He paused, a thoughtful look passing over his face as he pondered your question.

“At times, there are things that I miss. But no, I wouldn’t go back.” he shook his head, damp locks of raven hair falling in curtains over his brow.

“I can imagine.” You agreed as he slipped out of his coat and hung it on the coat rack, you did the same and he gestured for you to follow him to his room.

“I have some dry clothes you can borrow.” He said as he sifted through his drawers, pulling out a simple cotton shirt and a pair of loose-fitting pants. He held them out to you and you accepted them with a smile. You noted that the clothes were larger than the ones that he pulled out and you wondered who they belonged to.

“Whose clothes are these?” you asked out of curiosity and a pained look crossed his face. But you wondered if you had imagined it because of how quickly his features reset into his stoic mien.

“An old friend.” That was all he said before leaving you to change. You pulled the clothes on slowly and carefully knowing that these are likely one of the last things he had that belonged to his friend. Once you were done you stepped out of the room to find Levi already changed and boiling a kettle over his small stove. The shirt hung loosely off of your frame and you pulled the collar up gently as you crossed the room to stand by his side.

“Whatcha making?” You asked softly as he shot you a brief glance over his shoulder.

“Tea.” He said bluntly as he reached up into the cabinets and pulled out two mugs. You hummed and moved to take a seat at the modest table that was pressed against the back of his couch.

“Sounds good.” You said as you slipped into the seat, watching as he moved around his space. You noted the way his cane carried the majority of his weight, the way his fingers trembled as he poured the water to steep the tea leaves. You moved to get up and help him, but decided against it, reminding yourself that he was independent and could do these tasks on his own. Sure enough Levi finished the tea and carried the two cups over to you and placed them gently down on the table.

You thanked him quietly and blew a puff of air over the surface of the green tea, sending ripples through the liquid. He watched you with unreadable features, hands crossed on the table and his cane resting against his thigh.

“Tell me of your home.” You asked, daring a look over the rim of your cup. He inhaled and a far away look crossed his face as he thought of an appropriate response.

“As I knew it or as it is now?” He mumbled as he brought his own cup to his lips.

“Whichever you prefer.”

“Hm.” He hummed as he let the hot liquid sit in his mouth hoping to buy himself more time.

“Either way it was shitty.” He said after a few moments of silence. You set your cup down and gave him your full attention.

“We never had much, and I can’t say that it was a happy life.” He said, sneaking a glance at you to guage your reaction.

“I figured as much.” You commented and he shrugged.

“There isn’t much left of the landscape after the rumbling, but that’s everywhere now.” He grumbled, beginning to lose himself in his own memories.

“There used to be open fields and massive trees inside of the walls but…” He winced, flashes of blood and gnashing titan teeth, campfires, the heavy breathing of horses, explosions of thunder spears followed by the tangy metallic scent of blood.

“Levi?” Your voice was soft and filled with concern, he snapped out of his reverie, his fists clenched around his cup.

“Sorry.” He choked out, his tongue feeling fat and his mouth dry.

“It’s alright, I shouldn’t have asked.” You waved your hands and quickly took a sip of your tea.

“No, it’s not your fault.” He dismissed you, trying to calm the racing of his heart.

“I’m sure that you’re tired, I’ll see myself out.” You began to scramble, reaching for your things and pushing a stray strand of hair from your face. Levi wasn’t sure why, but he felt an urgent need to reach out and grab you. Before he could dismiss the sense, his hand had already shot out and caught your wrist.

You looked back at him with wide eyes, not moving a muscle. He stayed still as well, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your arm. If he was hurting you, you showed no sign.

“Don’t….it’s storming.” He said stupidly, as he stood keeping a hold on your wrist. Once he was on his feet he took a step towards you and his hand slipped down to intertwine his fingers with your own.

“O-Okay.” You squeezed his fingers and he returned the gesture, eyes blank although they darted between your eyes and lips every few seconds. You took a step closer so that the tips of your feet touched his, your breaths mingling together. Finally his eyes settled on your lips and you unconsciously licked them as you wondered what he would taste like. Green tea no doubt, just as bitter and tangy as his personality seemed to be.

You let out a shaky breath as he reached out, the back of his hand brushing that pesky piece of hair off of your cheek. He hesitated but gently grasped your face in his calloused palm, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. You carefully broke free of his grasp on your hand so you could smooth down the fabric of his shirt above his heart.

He swallowed thickly before lifting his chin, eyes trained on your lips. You tilted your head and met him the rest of the way, your lips slotting together perfectly. His other hand came to rest on the other side of your face, and you whimpered. You opened your mouth wider, your tongue slipping past his lips to taste him. He did taste like green tea after all, bitter and overwhelming. You couldn’t get enough, your hands slipping up the column of his throat to find the shaven underside of his hair.

To your surprise he pulled away with a grunt, grey eyes wide and surprised. You looked back just as shocked but then you smiled. He blinked at you for a moment before pulling away completely and turning his back to you and running a hand through his locks.

“I’m sorry, that was inappropriate of me.” He apologized and you shook your head.

“I actually quite liked it. You aren’t my patient anymore Levi.” He remained silent, his back turned to you in shame.

“You’re not even a Captian anymore, you’re just a man.” You assured him and he turned to look at you now, eyes filled with a certain grief you couldn’t quite place.

“Is that how you see me then?” His voice was flat and you couldn’t tell if he was offended or pleased with the response.

“No, I see you as a good man, who has been hurt one too many times. Someone who needs a….companion.” You settled and he finally faced you once more.

“I shouldn’t have done that to you.” He grunted, steadying himself on the table.

“It’s okay Levi, I-I like you.” You felt like you were tripping over yourself to assure him that he was not crossing any lines.

“....” He remained silent, those sad grey eyes trained on your face as your chest heaved, panic quickly raising.

“I promise you I’m fine. I’ve actually been wanting to kiss you for some time now.” You sheepishly admitted, rubbing the side of your arm.

“I know.” He groaned his hands coming to hide his eyes and you felt even more distressed, you should’ve known better.

“Look, Levi I want to be with you, and if you want the same then we can be. You don’t have to-”

“Damn it (Y/n) I want to, but I don’t” He let out another frustrated grunt before his fist came down hard on the table, the cups rattling loudly at the disturbance.

“I don’t want you to be chained to someone like me.” He admitted, eyes averted.

“You don’t have to feel that way, I’m choosing you.”

“Promise?” His eyes finally met yours and you nodded curtly, a look of determination and confidence plastered to your face.

“Promise.” You assured him, sitting back down at the table to show that you weren’t going anywhere.

“And if you bother me too much then I’ll leave.” You teased, but he seemed to take it literally, sinking back into his own seat and nodding in understanding.

“That’s good.” He sighed, shoulders sagging in relief.

“I really should go home, think about this and we’ll talk tomorrow.” You stood, leaning over the table to peck a kiss to his lips. He nodded and watched with tired eyes as you left his apartment.

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buckyswintersoldiermask · 2 years

Text

Dear Diary

Steve Rogers x reader

Steve Masterlist

Summary: Steve wants your relationship to move faster than you do.

Word Count: 2.0k

Warnings: angsty, some fluff

A/N: I wanted to try something like this and see how it turned out, I like how it turned out, hope you guys do as well. :)

Bold and italics are the diary entries

April 7

Dear Diary,

It’s a good day today, Steve and I are going on a date since it’s our 4 month anniversary. Our relationship is perfect right now. Where we are is really good to me, not too fast or slow, just a perfect place. I enjoy spending time with him. He’s coming to pick me up at 7 and we’re going to the cafe by the lake, where we first met. I have to figure out what to wear!

Love, y/n

You took about an hour to get dressed because you couldn’t decide what you wanted to wear. Was it jeans, a skirt, a dress? Once you were ready, you watched a little tv and waited for Steve. You and Steve normally go out 2-3 times a week, if both of your jobs permit. You often watched Steve’s Labrador retriever, Biscuit, when he couldn’t be home.

Steve, being a retired Avenger, still had his work cut out for him. You, on the other hand, an author, had your busy nights, and Steve was always understanding. It wasn’t rare your jobs got in the way of date night, more so his job, but when it did happen, you both made the best you could out of the situation.

Steve pulled into your apartment complex and called you from the intercom, “(y/n), I’m here.” You smiled, getting up to speak to him, “Okay, I’m on my way down.”

You turned the lights off and grabbed your keys, leaving your apartment and locking the door. You rode the Elevator to the ground floor and there Steve was, “hello dollface, you’re looking stunning as usual,” he says as he holds out his hand to lead you to his car.

“Why thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself.” You compliment him as he opens the door and you get into his car. He closes the door behind you and gets in the driver's seat, starting the engine.

The cafe isn’t too far from your place, it’s actually where you met Steve. You were working there, earning a little extra money, since you were struggling with your upcoming book. Then Steve came in one day, with some other guys, who you assumed were his friends at the time and Steve came up to the cashier to order and ordered the special of the day. You didn’t think much of it until he kept coming back to order the same drink over and over again until he asked you on a date. Which you were hesitant of, dating hadn't been your forte, you were quite terrible at it, but Steve rephrased his question, asking you if you’d like to do dinner as friends.

“Mary and Ronnie are working tonight.”

Steve looks over at you before turning into the next street, “how do you know?”

“They always work on Thursday.”

Steve pulled into the cafe parking lot, getting out and opening the door for you. “Let’s see if your theory is right.”

“Oh, Stevie, you know better than to doubt me.” You laugh as you get out of the car. Steve closes the car door and locks his car, quickly opening the Cafe door for you.

Your ears are filled with loud voices, those who belonged to Mary and Ronnie as you predicted. “Steve! (y/n)!” Mary calls out from behind the counter.

You gave an “I told you so” look and said hi to your former coworkers. Luckily, the cafe was pretty much empty so your and Steve’s table wasn’t taken. It was a table by the window in the corner, where the light would shine in and illuminate the whole cafe.

Steve pulled out your chair and you sat down as he sat down in front of you. Neither one of you had to look at the menu, you knew exactly what you wanted. Steve always orders the cinnamon roll and black coffee, you order a bagel with cream cheese and green tea and you also take a few bites of Steve’s cinnamon roll.

Ronnie took your order and then it was just you and Steve. “How was your day today, babe?”

Steve sits back in his chair, smiling, “It was tiring, we got a new recruit and they need a lot of help, bruised me up a little bit.”

“Aw, Steve, we could've moved our date to tomorrow so you could rest.” You offered.

“No, of course not, it’s our anniversary, I can rest tomorrow, thank you though.” He counteracts, grabbing your hand in his, “how was your day?”

“It was okay, I pretty much was looking forward to our anniversary date so I didn’t do much, I wrote a few drafts and that's it.” You shrugged, smiling.

The pad of his thumb rubs your hand as he smiles, “I hope I get to read them soon.”

“Always, you’re my first editor, plus your editing is free,” you winked, making Steve laugh.

“Oh, so I’m just here so I can be your editor?” Steve jokes, taking his hand from yours.

“Your cooking isn’t bad.”

Steve's eyes open wider and he folds his arms, “I cannot believe this.”

You smile and grab hold of his hand, “I don’t just keep you around for your cooking or editing skills but maybe your cuddle abilities,” you laugh once more, patting Steve's hand, “I’m kidding, baby.”

Once you were convinced Steve didn’t feel used, you went to wash your hands and so did Steve, and once you came back the sweet smell of cinnamon and the smell of freshly cooked bread flooded your senses as you came out of the bathroom. You sat down and began to dig into your bagel, and Steve his cinnamon roll.

‘What if we moved in together?” Steve asks between bites of his cinnamon roll.

You freeze, wondering if you’ve heard him right. Move-in together? As living in the same place? Together?

“Steve, I, I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet.” You confess, drinking your tea and looking away from Steve.

“But, eventually though, right?” He asks, hoping your response doesn’t mean no forever. You nod, biting your bagel.

You and Steve kept eating your pastries, and you, of course, grabbed some of his cinnamon roll. The both of you finished eating and Steve paid for the food, which you both take turns doing each date night.

Once you said bye to Ronnie and Mary, the two of you decided to take a walk in the park nearby, just the both of you alone with nature. You could hear the trees whistling and the birds flying over your heads, a peaceful scene. After walking for a little bit, Steve stops, grabbing your hand gently, “do you not want to move in with me in the future (y/n)?”

You nervously chuckle, coming closer to Steve, grabbing his other hand in yours, “maybe, in the future, but not right now, Steve we’ve only been dating for 4 months exactly, today.”

“The way you responded in the cafe made it seem like you never want to move in with me.”

“I didn’t want my response to come off that way, I didn’t want to offend you, that’s just something I don’t want right now.”

‘When will you know?” he questions.

“What?”

“When will you know that's what you want? That I’m what you want?” He continued, “when will you know?”

“I can’t tell you that, I don’t know, you just want me to have a map planned about what I want? I don’t live like that Steve, I’m not you, I don’t map out everything from dating, marriage, to kids. I just want to be in the moment with you.”

Steve pauses, taking his hands from yours, running his fingers through his hair, trying to grasp the situation, “(y/n), I love you. I want to be with you.”

“I want to be with you too.” You hurriedly answered, not saying ‘I love you’ back.

Steve notices and steps back, staring at you. Your chest is tightening and your hands are sweaty, you feel like you could throw up everything you just ate.

‘You didn’t say it back.” He states.

“Steve-.” You stop, not knowing how to fix this, can you? “I do love you, Steve.”

“No, you didn’t say the words.”

You and Steve stare at each other, you speechless, Steve hurt. You didn’t know he was ready for something so big, he never talked about it, it caught you off guard, to say the least. You and Steve walked in silence back to the car, drove in silence and he dropped you off in silence, only saying bye before driving off.

You trudged into your apartment building and to the elevator and finally to your apartment. You went inside, locking the door behind you, throwing your keys on the counter, and grabbing yourself a drink.

You shook off the date and sat at your desk, ready to try and write, usually it helps your mood. As you tried to write nothing came to mind, your mind was cloudy, all you could think about was Steve’s face, his disappointed face. He loved you, no man has said that and meant it. So you were scared, do you love Steve? You grabbed your diary, opening it to the page you wrote earlier in the day. You were so happy then, your relationship wasn’t in shambles then.

April 7

Dear Diary,

This evening didn’t go well at all. Steve and I had a bad fight. He told me he loved me, but not those words. He said, “I love you.” Not love you, love ya, he said “I love you” and what did I say back? I said, “I want to be with you too.” So we drove home in silence, he didn’t say anything to me but ‘bye.” Is this my fault? Is it my fault my relationship is falling apart? Should I have said it back to him? Should I have said yes, to moving in with him? Am I the problem? Am I the reason my relationships never turn out right? Am I holding him back from someone who wants what he wants at his speed?

Love, (y/n).

You spent the rest of that evening watching your favorite show in the comfort of your pajamas until you fell asleep on the couch. You woke up to the sound of your intercom, someone speaking. You groaned, stretching and making your way up to listen, it’s Steve. ‘(y/n), let me up please.”

You quickly ran to the couch grabbing your snacks and putting them on the kitchen counter before buzzing him up. Within minutes Steve was knocking on your door. You opened the door to see Steve with a bouquet of flowers and a heart of chocolates. He hands them to you as you let him in.

“Thanks.” You say, putting the chocolates and flowers on your counter.

“I didn’t say happy anniversary to you last night.” Steve starts, “happy late anniversary.”

“There were a lot of things you didn’t say last night.” You spoke, walking to your couch and sitting down. “Why are you so concerned about moving in together so fast?”

“I love you, (y/n), I want to live with you. I only see you on date nights and whenever we come over to each other's houses I want to see you every day.” He explains, sitting down next to you.

`You're too much of a workaholic for that.” You counteract, sitting back, “if we were to move in together we’d see each other the same amount of time.”

“I love you, just tell it back to me, (y/n).” Steve pleads, getting on his knees in front of you.

“You don’t want someone that you love to lie to you, Steve.”

With that, Steve gets up and heads to the door, “keep the flowers, chocolates, and anything I’ve given you, but I think we’re done (y/n).” Steve opens the door and slams it behind him.

You take a deep breath before running over to the kitchen, throwing the flowers and chocolates in the trash.

April 8

Dear Diary,

Steve and I are done.

Please do not steal, copy or translate my writings, or post them on other sites.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated :)

Steve Tags: @supremethunda @amelia-song-pond @tinylumpiaa @weenersoldierr @leyannrae @teebarnes @teti-menchon0604 @mogaruke @supraveng @1-800-imagines

Taglist

#steve rogers x f!reader #Steve Rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem reader #Steve Rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers oneshot #buckyswintersoldiermasksfics #buckyswintersoldiermask’s fics

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matbaerzal · 3 years

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Then I Met You | M. Barzal

A/N: IT’S FINALLY HEREEE!! Thank you for being patient, and please, PLEASE let me know what you think!! 🥺❤️ (playlist + pinterest) Songs mentioned, in order of appearance: IDK You Yet - Alexander 23 IDK You Yet (Live on Piano) - Alexander 23 Favorite T-Shirt (Acoustic) - Jake Scott

Summary: Mat is a musician living in New York. He’s got a regular spot playing at the café underneath his apartment. Then, one night, you walk into his life. Warnings: a little bit of swearing, alcohol mentions, lots of fluff.. BARZY PLAYING GUITAR AND PIANO!! (There’s also two different perspectives in this: Yours and Mat’s) Words: 13,8K Copyright © @matbaerzal 2020 All Rights Reserved Tagging: @tkachukme @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 @thirteenisles @zuucc @captainkreider @tysojost @generallybarzy @yeeehaw-hockey @kerwritesthings @suchalilyofthevalley @softboybarzal @josty @itrocksmysocks @patricksharp @broadstbroskis @laurenairay @charlie-theangelwrites @sorryjustafangirl @konecny-s @canadianheaters @folkloreflyers @shawnsreputation

Your usual cafe is only a few seconds from your apartment. Your usual cafe makes your coffee perfectly and has the best sweets to go with it. Your usual cafe is the perfect environment to do study in - it’s comfortable, predictable, safe.

So why you took a different turn this Thursday morning and headed for another cafe down the street, you had no idea. You’d walked past it countless times, always thinking to yourself that you should check it out one day, but you never had.

Until now.

Walking in, feeling the warmth, was an instant relief. Then you took in the scenery as you unwrapped the scarf around your neck before brushing off some snow from your coat. It was cozy, with a mix of old furniture that would not have worked if it was placed in any other space.

As you took in the exposed brick behind the bar counter, the art and the old guitars hanging on the sidewalls, and the piano that was standing on what could only be a stage, you wondered why you’d never gone in before now.

The young barista, Lucy - you read her name tag, gives you a warm smile as you walk over. “Hey, what can I get you?” she says as you glance over at the handwritten chalkboard menu behind her. “I’ll have a double latte” you glance over at the baked goods, “and a cinnamon bun, please” you decide.

She nods, “are you staying in, or taking it with you?” she asks as she lifts the glass food cover. “Staying in” you smile before looking around to find a place to sit. She puts the cinnamon bun on a small plate before entering your items on the till, as you pay you make sure to leave a little tip.

“I’ll bring the coffee over when it’s done,” she tells you, you thank her as you take your plate, finding a table near the window with a big chair that almost looks too comfortable. Carefully putting the plate down as you sit down before sliding your bag off your shoulder, setting it next to the chair.

You set the plate to the side, making room for your computer and book. Just as you’ve set everything up, Lucy comes over with your coffee, you thank her again as you reach out for it. You scootch your book over a little to make room for the cup, the table barely fitting everything you brought with you.

You hum in content as you take the first sip - smiling as your eyes scan the room. You look over at the couple of friends trying to keep their laughter down at the opposite side of the room. The middle-aged man reading the newspaper a couple of tables over, the grey dog laying by his legs. And the lady ordering her coffee before heading off to work.

Taking another sip you shift your focus back to your schoolwork in front of you, sighing as you put the cup down before opening the book. You absentmindedly rip a piece off the cinnamon bun, only to put the book down for a bigger piece when you taste it. Now you’re definitely kicking yourself for not coming here sooner.

You sit there for hours, watching people come and go, the pages on your document filling with notes, your cup emptying - stretching your legs as you order another one, and another one.

The last cup you order, you notice you can’t keep your focus on the pages you’re reading anymore, deciding to bookmark it to take a break. You put your items back in your bag, taking your time to finish the last half of your cup as you watch the strangers around you.

The middle-aged man with the dog is still there, his paper now folded by the table as he finishes eating the cake he ordered earlier. His dog perks up as he slowly gets up from his seat when he’s done. He takes the plate, lifting it over to the bar counter - giving it to Lucy who takes it from him with a smile, telling him he doesn’t have to keep doing that.

You gather he’s a regular as he walks back to his table calling for his dog and putting his jacket back on. He grabs the leash and picks up the newspaper. He smiles at you as he walks past you, turning to Lucy, lifting the newspaper to wave goodbye to her.

Something slips out of his paper as he lifts his hand, making you call after him as you stand up. Picking up what looks like some sort of flyer, you stretch your hand out to give it to him. He looks at your face, then back at the flyer, “that’s alright, you can keep that” he says with a polite smile before turning back around and continuing out the door before you can say anything.

Confusion takes over as the bell over the door rings when it closes again. You sit back down before you really look at the flyer.

Mat Barzal: Live Friday night at the Blackbird Café 9:00-10:30 PM Get your tickets online or at our venue

You hum to yourself, taking the last cold sip of your coffee before putting the flyer in your bag, making a note to ask your roommate, Olivia, if she has plans tomorrow night - intrigued to see this cozy cafe turn into something else. You slide your jacket back on, wrapping your scarf around your neck. After picking up your bag you take your cup and give it to Lucy who thanks you. You ask her if there are any tickets left for the concert and her face lights up a little.

“Yeah, do you want to buy a ticket?” she says.

“Actually, could I book a table? And I’ll get the tickets online - so, if my roommate wants to come along, she can- “ you trail off, noticing your own rambling.

“Yes, of course. Is that table ok?” she points to a small table a couple of rows from the stage, near the wall. You nod, and she writes down your details. “Perfect, I’ll see you tomorrow” she smiles, “yeah, have a nice day,” you say before bracing yourself for the cold air as you open the door.

The Blackbird Café

Mat wakes up late Friday morning with a headache - groaning as he glances over at the clock. He wants to let sleep take over his body again, but the ache in his empty stomach and the dull pain in his head wouldn’t have let him.

He lifts the covers, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he sits up, rolling his shoulders before getting up. He cranes his neck from side to side, breathing out as he hears the bones pop. He pulls on a pair of sweats, moving quickly to find socks to warm his feet from the cold floor.

He pulls on a hoodie as he walks out of his room, walking straight to his door to put on some shoes. He didn’t bother putting on a jacket, even though the air in the hallway is even colder than his apartment. There's a hurry in his steps as he walks down the stairs to the tiny lobby. As he walks out the door he instinctively wraps his arms around himself, huffing out as the cold air hits him.

He doesn’t waste time walking to the next door over. The familiar noise of the bell over the door comforts him - his headache lifting a bit already.

“Hey, Lucy” the sleep is still evident in his voice as he closes the door quickly behind him. She perks up when she sees him, instantly starting to make his usual coffee as she greets him, “Mat’s here” she says, quickly peeking her head into the kitchen.

Mat sits down on a barstool by the counter, gladly taking the plain black coffee from Lucy when she hands it to him. “You’re late today” she points out. Mat takes a sip of his coffee, nodding as he hums - “couldn’t sleep”

Lucy raises her brow for him to elaborate, there aren’t too many people in the café so she has time to talk to him, and her dad isn’t around to scold her for taking a break.

“I woke up in the middle of the night, and-” he pauses unsure of where to start. “So there’s this song I’ve been writing, and I’ve been stuck on it for the longest time” he takes another sip of his coffee. “And then it just came to me, and I couldn’t sleep until I’d written it all down and finished it, you know”

“So, there’s a new song in your set tonight?” Lucy hopes. It’s not that his current set was bad, not at all. But, having heard the same songs for months on end, the thought of a fresh song excited her. “Oh, I don’t know about that” Mat averts her eyes, his voice low and void of confidence.

“Mat, please, I’m sure it’s great” she tries to encourage him, but he’s still not sure. “I’ll give you free coffee for a month” she tries to bribe him, but he scoffs - “I barely pay for them as is”

“I’ll think about it,” he says after a moment, and the sheer joy on her face is enough to convince him - but he won’t tell her that she’s won just yet.

Lucy’s like a little sister to Mat - her dad, Daniel, owns the café and the two apartments above it. That’s how he landed a spot to play every first Friday of the month at the café. Daniel helped him move into his current apartment, and when he saw all the instruments he asked Mat to play him a couple of songs. That was almost three years ago, and Mat was still here.

He was beyond grateful for what Daniel did for him, he was sure he wouldn’t still be in New York if it wasn’t for him and this café. If Mat ever struggled to make ends meet, Daniel would help him out any way he could. Whether that was giving him a couple of shifts at the café or hooking him up with various bands in need of a substitute guitarist, pianist, or back-up singer.

But Mat had hoped he’d have gotten further by now.

Sure, he was living off of his music by now. He was able to pay rent and stock the fridge with the money he made off of writing songs. But he didn’t want to write meaningless songs for other artists to fill out a blank spot on their album.

Mat wanted to be on stage, performing his own songs, the ones he didn’t have it in him to sell. And once a month, he had a chance to do just that, and he loved it - he really did. But lately, something just felt off. Like he was missing something - something he couldn’t put his finger on.

And last night when he wrote that song, well, he hadn’t felt that alive in a long time.

The thought of performing it scared him a little, but if it meant he got to feel that way again, and if it made Lucy happy, he knew needed to do it.

----

You were going to be late.

Not that you were too surprised, Olivia had a special talent for being late to any occasion. She’d started getting ready two hours before you had to leave, but somehow, despite insisting she’d make it in time, the concert had now already started.

When she finally comes out of her room you shoot up from your spot on the couch, turning the TV off before going straight to the hallway. You see her stop abruptly, her thinking face on, and you hold your hand up before she can even say anything. “No, nope-” you put on a stern voice. “Whatever you think you’ve forgotten, I swear I have it in my purse” you grab her arm and pull her with you.

“Ok, ok I’m coming” she laughs.

Luckily her habit of always being late also meant that she was a fast walker, and you were at the café in no time. You could see that it was full, the only free table was the one you booked the day before.

As Olivia opens the door, a strange feeling washes over you - almost as if you were nervous. But before you can dwell on it, his voice pulls you in.

As one of the stage lights hits you, you can barely see the man standing on stage, but you swear you see him looking at you. You try to brush it off - it’s just because you walked in during his song. After you’ve sneaked past a couple of bodies to get to your table by the wall, you look up at the stage again and notice the whole room has gone silent.

No guitar, his voice quiet.

A breath catches in your throat - you hadn’t been able to take a proper look earlier, too embarrassed that you were late, but now you see him, really see him.

And he’s looking right at you.

You’re completely frozen in your spot, you don’t even register Olivia tugging at your sleeve to get you to sit down. It’s his tousled hair, his parted lips, and his eyes - his eyes. You’re compelled to walk closer, just to be able to find out what color they are, but you stay still. Though, even from where you’re standing you can see there’s a sadness hidden deep behind them.

Mat had grown tired of the lyrics to his songs a long time ago, as if the more he sang them the more the meaning behind the words faded away. Before last night he’d been in a rut and hadn’t written anything for months. He tried his best to pour his soul into them anyway, but even he knew that his eyes didn’t shine the way they used to when he sang those same old songs.

He’d glanced over at Lucy in the crowd before he began playing his new song, and taken a deep breath before he started picking on the strings, and there was a sense of relief that washed over him. That feeling he felt last night came back, it wasn’t as strong but it was in his fingertips as his music filled the room.

He’d felt every word deep in his bones when he wrote them down on the paper. It was like something took over and wrote it for him - an unknown muse had inspired him. He couldn’t quite understand it, but whoever they were he longed to find them.

Then, you walked in.

He didn’t see you at first, his eyes glued to the guitar, but as the bell over the door rang, he’d lifted his eyes. And the whole world stopped - the words slipping from his mind as your beauty blinded him.

He’s desperate to see your eyes, but as quickly as he gets a glimpse they’re gone - focused elsewhere as you rush to find your seat. Just as you’re about to sit down, you look up at him again.

A breath catches in his throat, and he’s consumed by you. Suddenly the words of his song make sense, and as he looks into your eyes they start to come back to him.

When his fingers pluck on the strings again and his voice fills the room again, it’s as if you can breathe again. The words seep into your soul, and you feel them in every bone of your body. His eyes never leave yours as he finishes the song.

How can you miss someone you've never met? 'Cause I need you now but I don't know you yet

It’s like you and he are the only people in the room, it’s not until you hear people clapping that the world fades back into view. Olivia touches your shoulder, making you tear your eyes away from him, grounding you. Your body is flushed with warmth, it’s almost overwhelming.

“Is it just me or is he staring at you?” Olivia says, you bite your lip looking back at him. His eyes are still on you, but you swear you see him blush before he averts his eyes to his guitar. He clears his throat, his voice is almost shy as he introduces the next song. You look back at Olivia again to answer, but you find yourself speechless. You’re left looking at her with your mouth agape, unable to put words to whatever it is you’re feeling. “He’s cute” she winks at you, and finally you scoff out a breath - “yeah”.

He continues his set, but you can’t quite shake the feeling that his words were meant for you. And you know that’s crazy, you’ve never met him before, never even seen him. Because if you had seen him, you would have remembered. Your breath hitches in your throat every time his eyes drift back to you.

You take a deep breath as he finishes his last song, thanking the crowd as he lifts the guitar strap over his head. As he’s setting his guitar down you recognize Lucy as she comes up to hug him, the man sitting with her follows, patting him on the shoulders with a proud smile on his face. You can’t hear what Mat’s saying but you’re pretty sure he nudges his head towards you.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom before we leave” you hear Olivia say, and you were hit with the reality that you’d agreed to go to the library tomorrow morning to study. Then, he’s walking your way, his eyes on the floor before he lifts his head, meeting your eyes again.

“Hey,” he says breathlessly.

“Hi,” your voice matches his, and strangely, it feels like you’re greeting an old friend.

“Can I sit?”

You nod, and he pulls up a chair. “You were-, that was great” you don’t know what else to say. He smiles, running his fingers through his hair and you wonder what it would feel like. Now that he’s closer you notice his eyes are hazel, and even in the dim light, you drown in them.

“Thanks,” he smiles.

“I’m Mat, by the way” he reaches his hand out for you to take. You give him your name, biting your lip as you take his hand. His hand wraps around yours and you feel his calloused fingertips against your skin.

“At the risk of being forward, I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink with me”

Your face falls and his confidence falters for a moment before you speak up. “I would love to, but I have an early morning and it’s getting late” you’re afraid it sounds like a silly excuse, but you can tell he doesn’t see it that way. Still, you’re quick to add, “but I’m free tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yeah?” his eyes light up and you nod.

“Wanna meet me here? at 5 - or whenever you’re free” he rambles. There’s a slight blush on his cheeks and you bite your lip before you ignore his question.

“Do you have a pen and some paper?” you ask.

He’s caught off guard, but he’s quick to reach into his jacket, pulling a small notebook and a pen from his pocket before flipping through the pages to find you a blank one. Your curiosity peaks as you get a glimpse of his scribbles, but you don’t act on the urge to check as he hands it to you. Holding back a smirk, you write down your number. Just in time, Olivia comes up next to you, her eyes drifting between the two of you as she introduces herself to Mat, who’s desperately waiting for an answer to his question.

“Are you ready to go?” she asks you, “yeah,” you say as you sign your name under your number in Mat’s book.

You slide the book over to him again, still open on the page you wrote in. As he turns it around to see what you wrote you pull on your jacket.

He looks up at you as you stand up, and just as he’s about to say you still haven't answered his question, you say, “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”. You feel your heart beating in your chest, and you’re surprised you managed to say it so smoothly. You’re surprised you’re able to stand as he smiles at you, your legs weakening at the look he gives you. You bite your lip as you wait for him to speak.

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow”

Smiling at him, you resist the urge to stay as you follow Olivia out the door. You give him one last look as you walk out the door, only to find him still looking at you.

It’s Olivia’s squeal that turns your head again, and you panic to silence her, rushing her down the sidewalk.

“The look he was giving you, oh my gooood” she practically screams, “the look you were giving him too, for that matter” she lowers her voice as she nudges your shoulder.

Despite the cold air, your cheeks feel warm as you laugh at her.

You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, taking it out to check who’s messaged you this late. It’s an unknown number, but he’s signed his name at the bottom and you can’t help but squeal yourself as you show it to Olivia.

Unknown Number: How do you like your coffee? - Mat x

The first date

Mat’s nervous.

Not in the way he was when he performed his new song. Not in the way he feels when he’s about to go on a first date even - because it feels bigger than that somehow. Usually, before a date, he’s not too afraid of fucking things up, because he knows it’s not the end of the world if it doesn’t work out. But now, for some reason, he knows that if he doesn’t do it right, he’ll be missing out on something big - something important.

He’s been down in the café for half an hour already and it’s still another half hour until you’d agreed to meet. Every time the bell over the door rings he turns his head to check if it’s you, but there’s no way you’d show up so early. Lucy doesn’t know whether to laugh at him or to pat him on the shoulder, she’s never seen him so nervous. Fidgeting with his fingers, asking her if he looks alright, trying to check his reflection in the shiny coffee machine across the bar.

He checks the time once more and sighs out, he swore time was moving slower. “Can you make that coffee now?” he asks Lucy again as if you’d magically appear in front of him when everything was ready.

He’d asked Lucy to make sure there were a couple of cinnamon buns left and he wanted you to have your favorite coffee ready for when you arrived. You’d told him you were studying today and guessed you’d be tired, so he just wanted things to be perfect.

“Mat,” Lucy chuckles at him, and he raises his brow at her.

“You know if I make it now it’ll be cold by the time-“ her voice trails off as her eyes look behind him. “Never mind” she mumbles as she starts making the coffees with a smirk on her face - his eyebrows furrow in confusion. That is until he hears the bell above the door ring and he turns around to see you walk in.

You were early, maybe even embarrassingly so.

You’d gotten ready as soon as you got back from the library and you simply couldn’t wait any longer. You’d tried to sit down on the couch next to Olivia, but you kept checking the time, fidgeting around, and sighing out loud - “Just go” she had laughed at you.

So 20 minutes before you’d agreed to meet up you walk into the café, hoping to grab a coffee before Mat shows up to wake yourself up a little. Only to see him already sitting by the bar, his head turning as he hears you enter.

“Hey,” he shoots up from his seat, a nervous smile on his face matching your own.

“Hi” you breathe out, relieved to be out of the cold and happily surprised that he’s already there.

“You’re early,” he thinks out loud, his eyes drifting over your face, trying to memorize your features now that he’s seeing you in the daylight. Without a second thought, he greets you with a hug, and it’s too short for your liking. You fight the urge to hold on, the brief whiff of his perfume intoxicates you and you want nothing more than to stay wrapped up in his warm embrace. You have to shake your head to rid yourself of your thoughts, you’d only just met this man and you already felt butterflies going wild in your stomach just looking at him, surely that couldn’t be normal.

“So are you” you point out with a small laugh - looking at him just in time to see him blush. “I uh- I live close by” he scratches the back of his neck and Lucy scoffs with a playful roll of her eyes. He glances over at her, with a warning glare, though just as playful as her eye-roll. She slides over your coffees, giving you a warm smile as Mat takes them and walks over to a table with two very comfortable looking chairs.

“I live right upstairs, actually” he motions his head to the ceiling. He gently sets your cups down as you both take a seat at table 13.

“So you’re here often, then” you smile.

“You could say that” he chuckles, “I’ve never seen you in here though, I mean, before yesterday” he continues.

“Yeah, I came in here for the first time earlier this week, and someone gave me your flyer and, well” you trail off.

“It was Barry” you hear Lucy speak up, a confused laugh leaving you as you turn to look at her for a second.

“Of course it was,” Mat says back to her.

“He’s one of the regulars” Mat explains, but it doesn’t answer your internal question - why is it obvious that he’d give it to you? Mat senses your confusion and blushes again before he speaks up.

“Barry’s always telling people about my Friday night shows,” he says bashfully.

“Well, I’m glad he did” you bite your lip, your eyes shying away from his for just a moment.

Time passes as the two of you fall into conversation. Your cups empty, only to be replaced by new ones as he tells you about where he’s from. How he’d moved from Vancouver to New York five years ago into a tiny shared apartment with barely enough space for everyone who lived there. The 3 other guys in his apartment started out as strangers, but were now some of his closest friends. They were also musicians, so they’d quickly bonded when they started playing together here and there.

And he gets lost in your voice as you tell him about yourself, the smile on your lips, your laugh, the way you don’t know what to do with your hands as you tell him a story about when you and Olivia had to run for your lives to catch the last train home a few years ago - it all drew him that much closer to you.

You lose yourself in his eyes as he looks intently into yours whilst you tell him the stories - it’s not until Lucy comes over with some food for the both of you that you realize how quickly time has passed.

“How did you two meet?” you ask as Lucy sets a couple of cinnamon rolls on the table for you. Lucy’s about to speak when someone walks over to the bar to order something, “I’ve gotta-” she motions towards the bar and you nod understandingly.

“It’s pretty funny actually” Mat speaks, drawing your attention back towards him. He explains that the owner of the café and his apartment is Lucy’s dad and that they both helped him move in.

“I’d been living in this shitty apartment, you know, and it was already furnished, so I didn’t really have a lot of stuff. I had to buy a bunch of furniture when I moved out. Dan and I were scratching our heads trying to figure out how to assemble it all, and Lucy-” he nudges his head in her direction, you’re hanging onto his every word even as he laughs through them. “The IKEA genius, saved the day when she came home from school. It’s pretty funny actually - I would’ve had to sleep on the floor if it wasn’t for her”

The café has filled up with people by now, and Lucy’s heading home as coffee orders are swapped out with beer and martinis. With the noise around you, it was getting harder to hear each other, and your chairs were moving closer and closer together as time passed.

For the first time since Lucy came to the table, you check the time again. Your eyelids were getting heavy, and even though you didn’t want to leave, you had to admit you were getting tired. Mat reads you, leaning over “c’mon, I’ll walk you home” he offers.

You think of him walking you all the way home only to walk back here again in the cold alone - and no matter how much you wanted more time with him, you didn't want to feel like he had to.

“Mat, that’s sweet, but you don’t have to-”

“Please, I want to” he doesn’t want the date to end either, he rarely ever feels so comfortable around someone so fast as he does with you. Whenever that happens and whoever it’s happened with before, they’ve always ended up being important to him. And he didn’t care if he had to walk a few blocks away and then back again in the cold if it meant he got to spend just a few more minutes with you.

“Thank you” You give him a soft smile, putting on your jacket and following his lead out of the café. He opens the door for you and you wait a moment for him to step next to you before you continue down the street.

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you, the distant noises of a Saturday night is the only thing filling the cold air. As you meet a couple going the opposite way, Mat steps closer to you to let them pass and you feel his hand brush against yours. Your cheeks warm at the feeling as you look down at your hands, his touch feels electric and it sets off a spark in your body. The other couple has passed you by now but he doesn’t step away, instead, his fingers search for yours. His touch is a question and you answer it by intertwining your fingers with his.

You look up at him to see him looking at you, biting his lips, his cheeks rosy as he squeezes your hand as if to say thank you.

Once you see your apartment building you’re almost tempted to walk around in a circle, to draw out the time, but you come to a stop outside your door with a bittersweet feeling.

“When can I see you again?” he instantly asks once he realizes you’ve arrived.

“I’m free on Wednesday” you’d checked your schedule before the date, hoping that it would go well. But really, he’d blown past every expectation and you felt like a teenager, wanting to skip out on your classes so you could see him sooner.

“Meet me at the café again? I’ll be around there all day, so come whenever you want” he rambles.

“Okay,” you smile, squeezing his hand hoping it reassures him.

You take the smallest step backward, reluctant to go into your building, your fingers slide from his just the tiniest bit before he grasps them again. He’s pulling you to him, carefully, testing the waters. “I had a really great time tonight” he murmurs, and your breath hitches in your throat at how close he is now.

“Me too” you find your voice, eyes dropping to his parted lips as he leans a little closer. Your free hand finds his waist, as his moves to cup your cheek. You close your eyes and shy away from the cold touch with a small laugh.

“That’s cold” you hum.

“Sorry” his voice is soft as he lets out a small chuckle and you lean into his touch again as you open your eyes. He’s looking at your lips, and he really, really wants to kiss you right now.

“Then kiss me,” you say and he realizes he said it out loud.

His forehead presses against yours, your cold noses touch, eyes fluttering shut. You feel his breath as his lips brush against yours and you grip his waist, bringing him closer, his lips finally against yours.

That spark in your body ignites and the fire warms you up from within as your lips move together. And you kiss and kiss and kiss until you run out of air and wide smiles take over your faces. His nose nudges against yours and you give his lips another peck before leaning back in his embrace.

“Let me know when you’re back home?” Your question warms his heart and he nods - ”I will” he promises, pressing his lips against your one final time, savoring it before he lets you go. His hand lingers in yours as he slowly steps back the way you came, and they stay intertwined until the distance between you pulls them apart.

He keeps walking backward, his eyes on yours as you huff out a laugh when he stumbles a little. He turns around then and gives you one last soft smile over his shoulder as you walk up to your entrance.

You start getting ready for bed the moment you get in, Olivia is already in her room, but you have no doubt she’ll ask you about your night the moment she sees you. Your night plays over and over in your head on a loop and it’s a movie you’ll never get tired of seeing.

Mat’s damn near skipping on his way home, wearing a smile he knows must look ridiculous to anyone passing, but he still feels your touch on his hand, on his lips and it’s all he can think about.

Your phone buzzes just as you come out of your bathroom, and you check the message just as you hear Olivia's bedroom door open, peeking her head out with a tired but expectant look on her face. You reread the message with a smile on your face as you nudge your head towards the couch as if to tell her “you’re gonna want to sit down for this one.”

Mat: I’m home Mat: Can’t wait to see you on Wednesday x

The second date

He hasn’t left your mind, not for a day, an hour, or a minute.

You were one step away from drawing silly doodles in your textbook about him in your classes, and it was painfully obvious to you how fast you’d connected.

What didn’t help is that he was texting you, every day.

Because you hadn’t left his mind either.

When he was listening to music he wanted to know what music you listened to. When he was watching a movie he wanted to know if you’d watched it or if you’d like it. When the sunshine poured in through his window he wondered what you’d look like covered in the golden light.

The café was quiet this early on a Wednesday, Mat had been keeping Lucy company since they opened, writing songs on the bar as she cleaned the coffee machine 5 times just to have something to do.

You’d let him know you’d be there around 12, right in time for lunch. You took your time in the morning, deciding to do some reading for one of your classes, but ending up reading the same sentence three times because your mind was elsewhere. Each time you finished a paragraph you’d check the time to see if you should leave soon.

A few minutes after 11:30 you decided to just go, going to the bathroom to check your appearance one last time before heading to the door. You don’t even put on your jacket properly before leaving, locking the door before heading down the stairs - clumsily sliding your arms into the sleeves on your way down to the exit. The air was colder than you expected and for a second you debate going back up for a scarf, but you decide against it, wrapping your arms around yourself instead.

Mat’s filled up more pages than he can count in his notebook since your date, and he’s so wrapped up in it that he doesn’t even notice the time passing him by - doesn’t register the rare few times the bell over the door rings and doesn’t realize you’ve arrived until he hears your voice.

“Hey” you breathe out, making his head shoot up. Lucy greets you before he finds his voice, offering you a coffee as he takes you in.

“Hi” he finally says, writing one last thing in his book before marking his page and closing it.

Lucy turns around to make your coffee as he stands up. You’re about to shrug your jacket off when he steps to you, cupping your cheeks gently before kissing you. Though he caught you by surprise, you don’t hesitate to kiss him back, your hands sliding up to his shoulders.

It’s when Lucy clears her throat that he pulls away, a blush on his cheeks as he avoids her eyes, scratching his neck. You’re left with warm cheeks and goosebumps, speechless - having to shake yourself out of it before taking your coffee from Lucy, a small embarrassed “thank you,” leaving you.

The two of you order food before sitting down at the same table you sat at on Saturday, his hand finding yours across the table. Before lunch, you catch up on the little things you hadn’t already spoken about over text since last time. By the time food comes he mentions that he’d spoken to his family the night before and you notice the tiniest hint of sadness in his tone.

“Do you miss them?” you ask, feeling a bit stupid, of course he misses them.

“Yeah” he sighs.

“I talk to them a lot though, but it’s not the same. I’m super happy that they call me when they get together, but I just feel like I’m missing out on their lives sometimes” he pauses for a moment, “I’m super grateful for FaceTime, don’t get me wrong” he laughs a humorless laugh, “but it’s not the same at all, you know?”

You squeeze his hand - “it’s like they’re with you, but not really” you say, and he knows you understand what he means as he looks into your eyes.

“I don’t know what I would do without Dan and Lucy, to be honest - probably drift away” he smiles, glancing over at Lucy who was now cleaning the fridge doors. And you hum, “my roommate is my anchor” you laugh.

“Yeah?” he asks, a small smile on his face

“She’s a pain sometimes, but I’d be lost without her”

“Any friend you live with is a pain sometimes” he laughs, thinking back to when he lived with his friends. Sure, they were loud and way too messy, but sometimes he missed having someone around to keep him company. He used to go to Daniel’s for dinner a lot, but he’d been so busy lately and Mat didn’t want to impose.

The bell over the door rings again, making you both look over. A man walks in, waving casually at Mat before doing a double-take, turning to walk over to your table.

He speaks your name enthusiastically and you’re confused as to who this man is and why he knows your name. He holds his hand out to you and now that he’s closer you think you might recognize him from the concert, if you were to guess you’d say that this is-

“I’m Daniel, so nice to meet you” he smiles, shaking your hand.

“Nice to meet you too” you smile back, feeling slightly accomplished that you’d guessed right.

He looks between the two of you, “I’ve got to work a little, but you two have a lovely date.”

He walks over to Lucy and you hear them talking about getting some things from storage before his voice picks up again. “Mat, can you keep an eye on the bar for me? Call me if anyone comes in?”

“Of course” Mat smiles.

You’re left alone in the café as they walk into the kitchen. There seems to be something on Mat’s mind and before you can ask him, he’s standing up, pulling you with him.

You’d taken his breath away when he first saw you, but being around you now, he felt like he could truly breathe. Like that first breath of fresh air after being stuck inside a stuffy room, or a cool breeze on a hot day. He felt like he could be himself completely, he could tell you his highs and lows without filtering out any details, and you’d listen to him.

“Can I play you something?” he asks, walking you over to the piano.

As he sits down, he makes room for you on the bench too - patting the spot to urge you to sit down.

“One of your songs?” you hope.

“Yeah, it’s uh- the one I was playing when you walked in on Friday”

A shiver runs down your spine as you think back to it. And you're left with your mouth gaping as he continues to speak.

“I’d written it the night before, and I didn’t know why or who it was about. When you walked in it was like I found the missing puzzle piece, and fuck- it sounds weird but-”

You kiss him.

Threading your fingers through his hair on instinct, as he hums into the kiss.

“I’ve felt those words in my bones since I heard you sing them, Mat. Please, sing it to me again” you murmur against his lips.

His lips find yours again, softly, before he speaks - “okay”

You lean your head on his shoulder as his fingers brush over the keys on the piano.

Closing your eyes as the first note fills the room, his voice finds its way into your soul as he opens his heart to you, for you. You meet his eyes for a moment seeing his emotions painted on them, hearing them laced into the words, hiding between each note. He knows you’re the one the song is about, he knew the moment he saw you, but he’s finally admitted it to himself. And the way you look at him only confirms it. Since he met you his chest hasn’t felt so heavy, his morning headaches were gone, they’d been replaced by you - images of your face, the memory of your voice, your laugh, they all played through in his mind. Grounding him.

A Home

My muse ❤️: My place at 5 tomorrow?

He’d been staring at the text you sent him yesterday for who knows how long. It’s been four days since he saw you last, four days since he sang to you, four days since he kissed you. He’d walked you home that day too, held your hand again, drawn out your goodbye as he pressed his lips to yours again and again.

He’d opened up to you last time, with the smallest fear that it was too much, that he’d scare you away. He was left in awe to see you inviting him into your space now. He’d typed out several replies yesterday before finally settling on one.

I’ll see you then! Need me to bring anything? x

My muse ❤️: No, don’t worry x

You’d answered him straight away, but now that he was searching for any type of clue in your previous messages he still had no idea what you’d planned for him. Locking his phone and looking back into the mirror he hoped the casual outfit he’d gone for was appropriate for whatever occasion. He runs his fingers through his hair a few more times before walking out of his bathroom to get a jacket before making his way over to your place. He follows his mom's advice and stops to get you something, even though you said he didn’t have to.

You’d been a bit bold inviting two people you barely knew into your home, but the short amount of time you’d now spent with Lucy and Daniel had shown you how good they were. When you’d walked into the café the other day asking if they had time for dinner anytime soon they’d been nothing but polite and eager to find a day that fit. As Lucy got someone to cover her shift, Sunday worked out perfectly.

Biting your lip, you hope Mat will like the surprise you planned for him.

When you saw how much he missed his family and felt how much it was affecting him, you just wanted to do something to show him that you cared. And you thought inviting his little world into yours would at least be a good place to start.

Dinner was just about ready. Daniel and Lucy had both politely offered to help and even though you insisted they didn’t have to, they didn’t listen. Lucy prepared the side salad, Daniel prepped the vegetables, while you prepared the meat, and Olivia had made some dessert earlier in the day so she was currently sitting drinking some wine by the dining table. You had all finished in no time, and now you were just waiting for the vegetables to finish cooking - and for Mat to show up.

Just a few moments after your doorbell rang, the timer for the oven went off too, as if on cue. Daniel winked at you as he went to the door, pressing the button to open the door downstairs before waiting for Mat by the door. You quickly got the vegetables out of the oven so you could catch Mat’s reaction when he saw Daniel opening your door.

He barely even gets to knock once before Daniel opens the door - the confused look on his face is priceless. Everyone else comes into his view and he’s not sure where to look, he’s never seen your apartment before, and to see two very familiar faces standing in it threw him off, but he couldn’t be happier.

“Dan- What are you two doing here?” he laughs, looking between Daniel and Lucy, before giving them both a quick hug with one arm. You notice he’s holding something behind his back with his other hand as you step towards them.

“Same as you,” Daniel replies.

He greets Olivia quickly too before you reach them. Everyone else moves back towards the kitchen as you step over to Mat, soft smiles on each of your faces. He reveals a paper bag with some flowers sticking out, holding it out for you in the space between your bodies. At first, you think it’s a bouquet, but you soon realize as you take it in your hands that it’s a potted plant.

You meet his eyes, you’re about to thank him when he pulls you in by your waist for a kiss. It’s short and sweet but it still makes your head spin, “they’re hydrangeas” he nods his head towards the flowers. “Thank you, they’re lovely” you kiss his cheek before stepping away from him - another kiss on his soft lips might have sent you spiraling.

“Please come in, take a seat” you smile, gesturing towards the table that was now set and ready for you all to eat as the others had made everything ready while the two of you were in your sweet little bubble.

You put the flowerpot in the kitchen, admiring his choice for a moment - wondering how he picked just the right colors to go with your apartment.

“Get over here, we’re hungry” Olivia urges you, tapping her fingers at the table. “For someone who’s late to everything, you sure are impatient” you tease her as you make your way to the table, sitting down next to Mat.

“Hey, I was early to this” she argues.

You’re about to open your mouth when Lucy speaks up - “you live here”

The whole table, including Olivia, break out a laugh and you smile at Lucy, “I was just about to say that”

You all settle down and start passing the food around to each other, keeping the small talk up as you all eat, your plates emptying slowly.

Mat takes a moment to take in the scene before him, how comfortable Lucy seemed talking to you and Olivia, how you genuinely laughed at one of Daniel’s awful jokes, how you all forgot to eat because you were too busy getting to know each other. He’s broken out of his thought as your hand comes to rest on his thigh.

“Hey, you alright?” you speak so only he can hear, your eyes intently watching him. He takes your hand in his, raising it to his lips with a soft smile as he presses a kiss to your knuckles.

“I’m perfect - this is perfect”

Without even realizing, you’d reminded him that he has a family here in New York too, and now it has grown to fit you and Olivia. And as he sat at your dining table next to you he felt like he was home.

The Weekend

Friday

The next couple of weeks flew by, and you and Mat spent as much time together as you could. You’d gone for walks, had dinner together a few more times, you’d spent the day with him studying at table 13 while he wrote songs - your feet next to his thighs in his chair, his hand coming down to rub your leg comfortingly whenever she heard you sigh deeply or saw you tense up.

A month has gone by since you first met him and Mat has another show tonight. After a day of classes, you were finally free to go get ready, pull on your favorite outfit, and pack an overnight bag.

The bag was open, standing on your bed - empty. You’d gone through all your drawers, and you had no idea what to bring. Nothing felt right, and you couldn’t really afford to go and buy something either. You were about to spend the weekend at his place, and if that wasn’t enough on its own, his old roommates were coming over on Saturday.

As if Olivia could sense your troubles from the other room, she comes in and plops down on the bed next to the bag, eyeing it.

“Pack that set, you know, the one with the-”

“Isn’t it a bit much?”

She laughs, “I don’t think he’ll complain - but pack a back-up too, then, if it eases your mind”

She got up and started going through your stuff, picking out a couple of items and throwing them haphazardly on your bed. You rushed over, glaring at her as you picked up whatever she threw, folding it nicely again before packing it in your bag.

Mat was pacing in his room.

Not because he was nervous about adding a few new songs in his set tonight - No, he felt perfectly confident about them. And not because you were meeting his friends either, he knew they’d love you. But you were spending the weekend at his place, and while you’d been to his place before, you’d never stayed over.

He’d cleaned and tidied, then cleaned some more, remade his bed about ten times. He knew his buddies would note that it was uncharacteristically clean - he could hear their chirps in his head already. But, now he was running out of time. You’d be at his place any second now, to leave your bags there before you headed down to the café.

His eyes scanned his room one more time before he sighs out, putting his hands on his waist, running his fingers through his hair before pulling himself away and into the living room to wait for you.

He doesn’t have to wait long, but it feels like forever as his eyes are glued to the clock. He shoots up the second his doorbell rings, and runs out his door and down the stairs to meet you.

The second you’re in his view his whole body relaxes, breath evening out, but his heartbeat picks up. He’s dragging you in before you can even say anything - his hand on your cheek as he leads your lips to his in a kiss that makes you drop your bags on the floor, your arms going around his neck, fingers finding his hair. He smiles, breaking away - bumping his nose against yours softly.

“Hi,” you say in unison.

Your fingers linger in his hair as you lean back to look at him, “you nervous for tonight?” you ask.

“For the concert?” he asks, a small laugh huffing out.

You nod, watching him intently as he leans into your touch.

“No, not for that” his words make you furrow your brows, a smile still present on your lips

“What do you mean, not for that?”

He glances down at your overnight bags, giving himself away.

“Me too, a little bit” you admit.

“I don’t even know why, you just- It’s like I feel everything so much more when I’m with you, and sometimes when you look at me I can’t even think straight, but it’s also like I’ve never seen so clearly, never been more sure at the same ti-”

You can’t help but kiss him.

The way his brows move and how he pouts his lips slightly when he’s not sure what to say before he rambles on, too cute to resist. He hums into the kiss, pulling you closer again, breaking away with a slightly embarrassed laugh.

“You’re like never not on my mind, Barzy”

He kisses you again before he moves to grab your bags for you, a clever look in his eyes as he opens his mouth - “you should be the songwriter, not me” he teases,

You bump your hip against his, rolling your eyes, making him stumble a bit - playfully giving you glare before walking up the stairs. “I personally think Never Not On My Mind would be a great song” you argue playfully.

He has just enough time to show you around his apartment before the two of you have to go down to the café to meet Daniel and Lucy. He grabs his guitar in one hand, intertwining his fingers with yours with the other.

There’s already a fair few people there as you enter, the lot of them all greeting Mat and he awkwardly raises his guitar to greet them back, refusing to let go of your hand.

He only lets go as you get to your table, greeting Daniel and Lucy properly with a hug as you do the same. He gives you one last kiss before he gets up on stage to set up and start his soundcheck.

In the corner of your eye, you see Daniel looking at you, you can’t quite read his look, so you raise a brow and hum quizzically.

“He looks happy” Daniel nudges his head towards Mat, making you look over at him. As if he senses you looking at him he lifts his head and meets your eyes, a few strands of hair covering his forehead.

“You both do” he continues.

So much has changed in a month and you’re looking at him with new eyes. And he’s looking back at you with a new set of eyes himself. You’d never felt like you were strangers, and to think that a month ago you didn’t even know of him seemed crazy to you both. But, here you were - not thinking straight, but still seeing so clearly.

Mat was excited. Not just to play his new songs, but he felt like his old songs had been given new life, and he was itching to start plucking at the strings on his guitar - to let the words flow into the room, to finally play them to you properly.

He’d shared snippets with you, sending you short audio files or snaps of him singing, showing you lyrics as he wrote them down in his book. But they were small puzzle pieces and you had no idea what the puzzle looked like.

You’d lost yourself in the music last time, but this time - you found yourself. Small hints of you and him scattered around in his words. It’s all a whirlwind in your head until he plays the final note of the final song and the room erupts in applause.

The rest of the world fades out again as soon it faded in when he strides over to you, wrapping his arms around you, spinning you around - a surprised laugh leaving you.

You stay with Daniel and Lucy for a while after, and you watch him with proud eyes as people come up to him, telling him how much they liked his show. Barry, from your first day in the café, comes up saying he was going to tell everyone he knew about the new songs. You both listen intently as he goes on about the chord progressions and the symbolism in the lyrics.

When your eyelids start feeling heavy, you leave and Lucy comes with as Daniel stays to help close up. You say goodnight to Lucy with tired voices, Mat makes sure she gets home safe even though she lives only seconds away in the same building.

As you get ready for bed, the two nervous people from earlier seem like a distant memory. You move around each other like it’s second nature. Sharing smiles in his bathroom mirror as you brush your teeth side by side, hips bumping into each other playfully. Toothpaste dribbling down his chin as he tries not to laugh, making you spit out into the sink, doubling down in laughter.

Your heartbeat rises as you step into his bedroom, your movements slow as you start to undress. Eyes glued on each other as you take this next step in your relationship. As each layer is peeled off, and your skin is almost bare apart from your underwear, you freeze - taking a moment to really see one another.

Goosebumps form on your arms as the chilly air of his room brushes against your skin. As your arms wrap around yourself to stay warm, he steps closer to you, his hands sliding up from your elbows to your shoulders - his touch warming you instantly. You loosen your arms, fingertips curiously moving across his bare chest, eyes dancing across his skin.

Your lips meet his as your bodies tangle together, breaths mixing, fingers exploring, hearts melting. You fall into the softness of his bedsheets - your body on fire under his touch, his skin burning from yours.

As you drift away wrapped up in each other, sleep taking over your bodies, you’ve never been more content.

Saturday

You drift in and out of sleep in the morning, his arm draped over your waist, keeping you in bed. When you wake up completely, you still stay - basking in the feeling of the warm skin of his chest against your back, his breath on your neck, your fingers tracing patterns on his arm.

He groans in protest when you move, trying to keep you still, but you manage to turn in his arms to face him. His eyes are still closed, breath still heavy as your fingertips trace his pink lips. The move to his nose, moving over his profile as you admire his sleeping form. It’s when you run your fingers through his hair that he nuzzles into your touch - finally stirring from his sleep.

His eyes are still closed as he drags you on top of him, “let’s just stay here, yeah?” his groggy voice sends shivers through your body and you can’t protest - sighing as his lips kiss down your neck.

You don’t get out of bed until your stomachs beg you to, and it’s a slow morning on the couch as you wait for his friends to come over.

Mat’s hesitant to move as his doorbell rings, but you urge him to go open and let them in. You follow after him, a few steps behind as he lets them in.

Anthony, Jordan, and Anders all walk in with smirks on their faces as they scan the room. They look back at Mat and before they can even open their mouths he speaks up - “don’t even say it” he warns, making them chuckle.

“Love what you’ve done with the place” Jordan teases.

“Yeah, so clean,” Anders adds.

“And tidy,” Anthony nods, snickering.

Their eyes then fall on you as Anders speaks your name - “nice to finally meet you” they all agree, patting Mat on his shoulder as they walk into his apartment. They all introduce themselves to you and you repeat their familiar names in your head, trying to connect them to their unfamiliar faces. If it weren’t for Mat’s hand on the small of your back you know you’d feel a bit overwhelmed.

Before you know it you’re gathered around Mat’s living room table, filling your stomachs with the pizza you ordered, the boys trying not to talk through their chewing as they catch up by telling you all sorts of stories, mostly embarrassing ones on Mat’s behalf.

Mat doesn’t mind though as he laughs along, even adding details that the guys forgot with a loud cackle.

You clear the pizza boxes away as the guys find their instruments, and you beam at the thought of getting to be a fly on the wall as they play after having heard Mat talk about it so much. Though as you sit down, they don’t go into a world of your own as you’d expected, you’re pulled into it as they start with a “guess the song” game for you.

Anthony starts off by playing a familiar bass line on his acoustic bass guitar, that you recognize instantly, “oh! Another one bites the dust” the words stumble out of your lips, making Mat chuckle at your eagerness

When Anders gives you a beat on his cajón you have no idea what he’s playing, but as soon as Jordan joins in you can’t help but snort out a laugh as you recognize the melody to Wonderwall - and they laugh as you try to speak up through your laugh.

It’s Mat’s turn and he smiles at you before he starts strumming his guitar, you look around and everyone’s brows are furrowed at first, but it doesn’t take long for the others to pick up what song it is. You’re still lost, however, racking your brain to try to figure it out, you know you’ve heard it and you swear the answer is on the tip of your tongue. When Mat gives you another look, you know what to guess - although you’re not certain.

“Are you- is this Nickelback?” you laugh, squinting your eyes at him, making Mat stop altogether, giving you an amused look.

“Yes, this is Nickelback” his serious expression makes you snort out another laugh, having too fun to even care about how it’s the second snort-laugh of the night, but probably not the last.

“I’m a Nickelback fan and I’m proud of it, babe,” he says straight-faced, before starting the song again, his movements exaggerated as he starts singing too.

As you try to hold your laugh everyone else jumps in singing the lyrics to Rockstar to you. As the chorus comes near you decide to say fuck it, and belt out the lyrics with them - cheers going around the room before the song continues.

You’re out of breath by the time the song finishes and your face hurts from smiling so much, stomach aches from laughing. Mat sets down his guitar next to him, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him - kissing the side of your head.

You brush your hand up his side, the fabric of his t-shirt moving as your fingers move underneath it, tickling his skin, but he doesn’t shy away from your touch as you move your head to kiss the first spot of his skin you can see - a shiver running down his spine as your lips touch the nape of his neck.

He wants to play that moment on a loop on his head, but Anthony laughing at something Jordan said drags him out of it - “I’ll never forget when you sang that at karaoke that one night”

“Not my best performance” Mat laughs.

“I beg to differ” Anthony chirps.

It gets late quicker than you want it to, and before you know it you’re hugging Mat’s friends goodbye, wishing them safe travels home. You start to tidy, but Mat brushes your hands away, pulling you to him - “we’ll worry about that tomorrow” he says before lifting you, wrapping your legs around his waist, capturing your lips as he carries you to his bed.

Sunday

On Sunday Mat wakes up before the sun - if he’d been alone he would have shot up out of bed and grabbed his guitar frantically before the lyrics from his dream slipped out of his mind. But you’re here, and he doesn’t want to wake you, and he knows that all he has to do if he forgets the words is to look at you and they’ll come back to him. So he carefully raises your arm around his waist and sneaks out of bed, his feet padding across his floor to grab his guitar and notebook. He gently sits down at the edge of the bed - laying his phone next to him to record.

You’re woken up as the first light of the day peeks through his windows, bed sheets wrapped around you like a warm hug, his t-shirt soft against your skin.

It’s the sound of his soft humming and the gentle strums of his guitar that wakes you, and you stay quiet as you glance at him sitting on the edge of his bed. You try to piece together what he’s singing, but it’s too hushed - as if he didn’t want you to hear. Your curiosity gets the best of you as you fold away his sheets to sneak up to him, resting your chin on his shoulder, making him stop altogether to look at you - turning slightly to get a better view.

“‘Morning” he smiles.

“How long have you been awake?”

He huffs, squinting his eyes, “uuuh, not sure - you sleep well, baby?”

You nod, leaning in to kiss his lips, humming into the kiss, treading your fingers into his hair. You kiss his cheek before making yourself comfortable behind him.

“What are you writing about?” your eyes scan the scribbles in his notebook.

“You,”

Your heart swells, hiding your face in his neck - “me?”

His hand softly urges you to look at him again, “I’m always writing about you.”

A breath hitches in your throat, his eyes never wavering from yours. “Play it for me?” you kiss the spot where his shoulder meets his neck. He nods as you nuzzle into his neck, taking a breath as his fingers find the right grip.

I've been sittin' here, tryna figure out What did I do right to be with you right now?

Worlds Colliding

My Love 💕: I’ll pick you up at 6 x

You checked his text for the tenth time, to be absolutely sure of when he was coming.

“Breathe” Olivia laughs out, looking at you bouncing your leg, your shoulders tense as your nervousness consumes you.

Mat’s arriving in 5 minutes.

Mat’s arriving in 5 minutes and you’re going to a restaurant.

Mat’s arriving in 5 minutes and you’re going to a restaurant with his mom and dad and sister, where you would have dinner with his mom and dad and sister.

This was big, and no matter how many times Mat reassured you that his family would like you, it didn’t ease your mind all too much. Before you can even fill your lungs with air, the doorbell rings and you look over at Olivia desperately, desperate for your nerves to ease, desperate to crawl into a hole and hide.

Of course he’s early.

“Breathe,” she says again, “they are going to love you, you have nothing to worry about”.

You focus all you can on taking one deep breath before standing up, taking another deep breath before you make your way to the door.

Mat stands outside your door, Liana pokes his side in excitement as they wait for you. She jumps when the door cracks open and pushes her brother aside to hug you, which you welcome without a second thought. And just like that, your nerves are gone, his parents meet you with warm hugs too before Mat can even speak up to introduce you all.

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you, we’ve heard a lot about you” his mom, Nadia, beams and his dad, Mike, nods along. “He doesn’t shut up about you” his sister pipes in, hoping to make him blush, but he just smiles and nods to confirm when you look at him. You smile warmly at him, taking his hand that he offers before turning back towards his family - “I’ve heard so much about you too, feels like I already know you”. He squeezes your hand, “should we get going?”

There’s a chorus of you all agreeing and Mat kisses you softly - you don’t notice his mom emotionally clutching her chest at the sight, pulling herself together as Mat starts leading the way as his sister asks about the menu.

Before you know it you’re sat around a table, eyes scanning the menu for what to eat as you make conversation.

“We’re sad we couldn’t come to catch one of his shows, hearing his new songs over the phone isn’t quite the same as hearing them in person,” his dad says.

“And there are a lot of them too,” his mom adds, with a gleam in her eye.

“I think he’s found some inspiration” his sister, sitting next to you, bumps her shoulder softly against yours.

“You could say that” there’s a gleam in Mat’s eyes when he focuses on you.

As you get to know them more you see little pieces from his family that Mat has brought with him to New York - his dad’s competitiveness, his mom’s kindness, and his sister’s ambition. Your heart warms, seeing Mat around his family, so much love in his eyes. You’d always understood why he missed his family, but seeing first hand how close they all were you had to keep yourself from getting lost in a bittersweet feeling - focusing on here and now instead.

“He was so energetic as a kid - when he was seven months old he was running around the house, and we had to cut bedsheets and tie them around him” Nadia looks at her son fondly, as he shrugs, scratching his neck as he laughs.

“Once he got a little keyboard for his birthday it all changed though - he was still energetic, don’t get me wrong, but he put all his energy into music,” Mike tells you.

“Oh yeah, I’ve seen the garage band photos” you laugh, looking at Liana.

“Oh, he told you how he made me stand there, singing back-up as our neighbors walked past”

“Made you, eh?” Mat scoffs out a laugh, “pretty sure you liked the attention more than I did”

She pokes her tongue out at him and he returns the favor.

The conversation shifts as Mat asks how things are at home, and they all update him on all the small and big changes that have happened since he was last there. This store closed, this store opened, their neighbor got a small dog, so and so got married. They explain who’s who to you as they go along talking about life in Coquitlam.

“You should come visit sometime,” Liana exclaims.

“Mat usually comes home around May, you’re more than welcome to come with” his mom adds.

“You’ve got finals in May, no?” Mat asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, so we’d have to come after those” his hand rubs your shoulder as he looks at you - “if you want to of course”

“I’d love to” you squeeze Mat’s thigh before turning towards his family - “we’ll definitely come to visit after my finals”

You all walk slowly on the way home, planning out the rest of their week here. When you reach your door they all give you and Mat some space, because even though you’re going to see each other tomorrow, kiss each other tomorrow, you can never get enough.

You spend the rest of the night talking to Olivia about them - and they spend the rest of theirs talking about you.

“Then I Met You”

Mat had written so many songs, he had enough for a whole album and then some. He’d filled out his notebook and then another one and another one. He’d gotten some help from Anthony, Jordan, and Anders - recording demos whenever you were busy. They were helping him out tonight for his Friday night show too, and you had no idea.

He wanted to surprise you.

You’d already heard most of the songs, he couldn’t help himself there, but he’d managed to keep a couple to himself. And you’d only heard the others when it was just him and his guitar - which never failed to give you goosebumps and it never felt like anything was missing to you. But with the help of his friends, every feeling in the songs had been amplified, and he couldn’t wait to play them for you.

You and Olivia were meeting him at the café, you’d been busy studying all day - now currently rushing to be there early even though Lucy and Daniel were holding seats for you at the front. Olivia had surprised you as she was ready to leave only a second after you were, seeming just as eager to get there as you - you were too rushed to notice the secretive smile on her face.

Mat’s setting up the stage when you get there, but your attention is pulled away from him as you hear a familiar voice yell your name. Olivia is already on her way over to your table as you turn your head towards the noise.

Mat’s head picks up, just in time to see you hug Anthony, a surprised but pleased look on your face as you notice Jordan and Anders too. “What are you guys doing here?”

“At the bar? Getting drinks”

“In general? We’re playing” Anders points towards Mat, a drink in both his hands.

“What?” you smile, looking over at Mat, who’s got a smirk on his face which only widens when you make your way over.

Only then do you notice how the stage is set up with more instruments than usual - “You’re getting the band back together?”

He laughs, “surprise” his words end up sounding like a question as he drops what he’s doing to meet you with a kiss.

Olivia comes up and introduces herself to the other guys, and you overhear her talking about how hard it was for her to keep this secret from you. “Makes sense now” you muse and Mat raises his brows as he takes a sip from the drink Anders brought him. “I was a bit suspicious of how early Olivia was ready to leave” you add and Mat has to stop himself from laughing mid-sip.

You give him one more kiss for good luck and sit down at your table with Lucy, Daniel, and Olivia. You all make small talk until you hear Mat’s signature the-show’s-about-to-start throat clear, watching the lights in the café dim a little.

“We’ve got a couple more people on stage tonight, if you didn’t notice” the crowd laughs at his silly joke. As he introduces everyone it takes you back to the evening in the living room, how carefree he seems, comfortable - made for this. And they haven’t even started yet.

“We’ve got a whole new set tonight, and I hope you’ll like it - This first song is called Table 13” he turns his head towards you, winking. Your cheeks flush with warmth as a few eyes drift towards you - as if they didn’t all know that you were dating.

“It’s about someone very dear to me, well they’re all about her, but this one’s about our first date” he starts strumming and the rest of the band joins in. You’re left speechless as the set goes on, every song you hear is your new favorite. You’re in awe of him and his talent, and he can’t take his eyes off of you.

He feels alive, on fire - as long as he feels like this whenever he’s playing, he doesn't care anymore, he doesn’t feel stuck anymore. He could play in this café for the rest of his life as long as you were there with him - he doesn’t need the label and the fame and the tour, he just needs you.

You hadn’t fixed him, but you’d given him the tools to do it himself and stood by his side while he did so.

The set is a journey - the story of you and Mat. The band is one with the music and they’re dragging you all with them. Images of your time together flash vividly through your mind as Mat sings the words that are meant for you and you only, and he’s glowing.

After the last note on the last song the crowd breaks out in applause, the rest of the band comes to the front of the stage to thank the crowd. But Mat’s eyes stay on yours as you stand up with the rest of the crowd.

In that moment your hearts pour out and melt together into one.

He can’t wait any longer, stepping off the stage, wrapping his arms around you, laughing into your lips as the cheers grow when he kisses you, you don’t care how sweaty his neck is as you grab him to keep him there just a little longer.

As always, you all stay behind, moving a table and some chairs over to yours to fit the whole band. Mat’s mid-story when Barry comes over to the table, a stranger standing next to him. Mat stands up to meet them both.

“Great show as always, Mathew” he shakes his hand.

“Thank you” Mat smiles

“I want you to meet my friend, Gwen,” Barry continues.

“Loved the show- you don’t happen to have any demos?”

Mat nods, “yeah, we- uh- we have some demos” he briefly looks over at the band. He's a little confused, his mind wants to travel to a hopeful place, but he doesn’t quite let it just yet.

“Great!” Gwen reaches into her purse, pulling out a business card. “Why don’t you contact me, I might know some people who’ll be interested in hearing it” there’s a gleam in her eye as she hands the card over to Mat

Without even looking at the card Mat says, “Thank you, absolutely I will”

“Enjoy the rest of your night” Barry winks at him before they both make their way out.

You’re quick to jump out of your seat, going over to your boyfriend who’s stuck in his spot, staring down at the card in his hand. He almost can’t believe what he’s seeing, but as you stand next to him, your hand wrapping around his bicep you mumble the words on the card, he knows it’s real.

Someone from a record company had seen the show.

Someone from a record company had seen the show and they wanted him to contact them so they could hear his demos.

“Baby, I’m so proud of you” your voice shakes him out of his own head. And he’s a little overwhelmed as he looks over at you.

“None of this- I swear, none of this would be possible without you.” he rushes, pressing his lips hard against yours. You wrap your arms over his shoulders and he presses his forehead against yours, noses brushing against each other. As you tug on his hair at the nape of his neck he leans back, needing to get something off his chest.

“I felt stuck and then I met you and you broke me loose. I was longing for something-, someone and then I met you” he catches his breath, his thumb caressing your cheek as he looks ardently into your eyes - “I love you- so much”

Your eyes tear up, and you don’t hesitate to say, “I love you more”

“Not possible” he laughs, leaning in again.

Epilogue

His hand is in yours as you walk down the broad hallway, following a man in a snapback. The noise around you, though muffled, is loud and a bit overwhelming. Your hearts are racing as you get closer and closer, the noise growing louder and louder.

Everyone you pass, reach their hand out and Mat bumps his fist against theirs as he passes, a small laugh leaving him.

You follow the snapback man and walk through an open door, the noise is almost too loud for you to hear each other now, but as he embraces you in a hug, his lips to your ear, you hear him loud and clear.

“I love you most”

“I love you mostest” you giggle.

You hold on to him still as you give him his good luck kiss, before he and his band are rushed out onto the stage. Tens of thousands of screams grow even louder as they come into their view.

He starts plucking on his guitar, his eyes scanning the crowd as he takes it all in with a deep breath. He turns his head to find you again, and the noise of the crowd fades away when he sees you.

Then it’s as if you’re back in the café, just the two of you.

The smile you share is like a secret you share that no one else knows - I love you, I’m so proud of you.

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #op:w #hockey rpf

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