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punkshort · 2 months

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i know who you are | 3. the accident

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You and Joel spend some time getting to know each other, but during dinner with Tommy and Maria, the truth comes out about your accident.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, mild description of head wound/stitches, flirting, clickers, violence and some descriptions of injuries/blood

WC: 10.4K

Series Masterlist

Two Weeks Later

"This place is a lot bigger than I thought. I feel like I see someone new every day."

"Well, your brain did a factory reset, so you kind of are seeing new people every day," Ellie joked at breakfast one morning. Joel had been scheduled on early morning patrol shifts lately, so it was just the two of you before Ellie's classes started. You felt bad, but you grew to enjoy these mornings with just her. She was easy to get along with and she didn't pester you constantly about your memory loss. It was like she just accepted it for what it was and moved on. Joel, on the other hand, was a different story.

"What are you doing today?" she asked, pushing away her bowl of oatmeal.

"I have to go get these stitches removed," you said, your fingers coming up to brush across your injured scalp. "Couldn't come any sooner. They are so itchy."

She hummed and crossed her arms. "Surprised Joel didn't wanna come with you. He's been hovering over you non-stop."

"Yeah, tell me about it," you muttered. When you caught the playful glean in her eye, you backtracked. "Not that I don't appreciate everything he's done for me, it's just..." you trailed off, trying to find the right words.

"It's just a lot?" she offered, and you nodded, relieved that she understood.

"I didn't exactly tell him, either," you said, dropping your gaze to pick at your cuticle in shame. "Every time I go to the clinic, he scares the shit out of that poor doctor."

She laughed softly and stretched her arms out behind her head. "Joel does that to people. He comes off like a pitbull but in reality? He's just a golden retriever."

A slow smile stretched across your face as you absorbed her words, then burst out laughing.

"That is-" you began, cutting yourself off with another laugh, "the most accurate description I could ever possibly think of."

"I've known him for a long time, what can I say?" she said with a grin while throwing her hands up in the air.

Your laughter died down as you stared at the table, lost in thought. Glancing up at Ellie, you decided to see what else she might shed some light on.

"Do you know of a Ben and Lisa?"

She froze and looked at you quizzically for a moment before dropping her hands back down onto the table.

"Yeah, do you remember them?"

"No, no," you said quickly, waving her off. "I kept a journal. Y'know, from before. And I was reading it the other day and I mentioned them. Are they around?"

Ellie glanced around the somewhat crowded room before meeting your eyes again. "No, not today. They don't really come out much," she said, examining you carefully. "They have a small house on the outskirts of town. They are... homebodies, I guess? I think they've been in here, like, twice, since you guys arrived."

"So, they came here with me?" you confirmed, and she nodded.

"Yeah, the three of you arrived together," she said. Her eyes glanced up and saw a few classmates heading out the front door. "I better go, school's starting soon," she said, pushing her chair back and grabbing her backpack.

"Yeah, okay," you said, sitting back in your chair. "Thanks, Ellie," you called after her, and she shot you a quick wave before running to catch up with her friends.

You wished you had more time to ask her about Ben and Lisa. Were they together? Were they siblings? Friends? How did you meet them? What did they know about your past?

The questions were piling up as you let your mind wander. You didn't even realize Maria, Tommy's wife, had approached your table until she said your name for the second time.

"Sorry," you told her, shaking your head.

She smiled and pulled out a chair, joining you at your now empty table. "Don't worry about it. I wanted to check on you. How have you been feeling?"

"Better," you said honestly. "I haven't needed the Tylenol really, so I'm going to bring the rest back to Nick this morning."

"That's fantastic," she said, leaning forward. She regarded you quietly for a moment before speaking again. "Any luck on your memories?"

You sighed and shook your head. It was inevitable - everyone eventually asked you the same question, either morbid curiosity or genuine concern encouraging them. And you tried not to let it bother you, you really did. But you couldn't help but feel like a failure every time when the answer was no.

And then Maria asked the next question everybody always asked.

"How's Joel handling everything?"

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Of course this was hard for him. It was hard for you, too, just in a different way.

"Alright, I guess."

"Are you two getting along? I know Tommy mentioned you were nervous-"

"Yeah," you said, cutting her off. "It was a little weird at first but it's not so bad now." You glanced around the dining hall, which was mostly empty. "Can you tell me a little bit about him? About us? I would ask Joel, but any time he tells me about some memory, I can see it hurts him. And I just can't stand to see that look in his eye again."

Maria gave you a sympathetic look and squeezed your hand. "I get it. It must be hard, I'm so sorry," she said, and you could feel the tears beginning to prick the corners of your eyes.

"I just feel like I'm always letting him down," you said, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"You're not. Hey, look at me," she said, forcing you to drag your eyes up to meet hers. "You're not letting him down. He loves you. You have no idea how much. That man has been head over heels since the moment you met. He'd do anything for you-"

"I know, and that's what makes this so much worse!" you exclaimed. "I'm sitting around that house all day - our house - waiting for my brain to fucking work and give him the person he's waiting for and I just can't! I can't-" you slammed your palms flat on the table. "I can't fucking-" you buried your face in your hands as you tried to conceal your tears. Maria rubbed soothing circles on your back, giving you time to collect yourself.

"Sounds to me like you're going a little stir-crazy."

You dragged a shaky breath in and nodded, letting your hands fall to your lap.

"What if we got you assigned some work around town? Something light, nothing too strenuous. Would that help?" she asked softly, and your pulse began to return to normal.

"Yeah, I think that would be nice," you said, flashing her a small smile.

"Your choice, then," she said, pulling her hand back, "what are you good at or interested in? I figure stables are probably not a good idea. Tommy said you were having trouble riding. Is there anything you'd like to do?"

You pursed your lips and thought for a moment.

"I'm not sure... can I get back to you?" you asked, realizing once again that you knew very little about yourself.

"Of course," Maria said before standing up from her chair. "You know where to find me whenever you think of something. Or if you just want to talk... I'm here, okay?"

You gave her a watery smile before whispering your thanks, then watched her make her way towards the doors. You sighed and looked around, realizing you were the only one left after the breakfast rush, so you pushed yourself to your feet and followed Maria's footsteps. You had a few more hours before Joel was supposed to come back from patrol, so you decided to walk over to the infirmary and get your stitches removed.

The streets of Jackson were mercifully quiet. Most people were working and the kids were in school, so you didn't run into too many folks on your way towards the other end of town. You wrapped your arms around yourself a little tighter. The chill in the air still lingered from overnight, making you shiver. As you walked, you looked around at the buildings like you normally did, trying your hardest to shake loose a memory, or at this point, even a flicker of a moment, but nothing came.

You trudged up the steps to the infirmary and stepped inside, grateful to be back indoors where it was warm. A little bell rang above your head, announcing your presence, and a moment later you heard Nick's footsteps coming down the hallway. When he lifted his head and saw you, his eyes immediately scanned the room, searching for Joel.

"All alone today?" he asked, then motioned for you to follow him.

"Yeah, Joel's busy," you said, and you swore you could see his shoulders relax.

"I know the feeling," he said, standing next to an empty exam room and holding his arm out to his side, inviting you to enter first, so you did. "I've been trying to get around to doing inventory for weeks, but I'm swamped. Can't seem to find a quiet day," he continued as he opened and closed some cabinets. He pulled on a pair of gloves and opened a drawer for some scissors before placing it on a clean washcloth next to the bed and putting his glasses on.

"Oh, speaking of inventory," you said, leaning to the side so you could fish the pills out of your jeans pocket. You held them out to him with a smile. "Didn't need them all."

"Excellent. Thank you," he said, plucking the baggie from your fingers and setting them down on the counter next to the scissors. "Glad they helped. And again, I'm sorry I couldn't offer anything stronger-"

"Don't be sorry, I understand," you said, then tucked your chin into your chest so he could get a good look at the back of your head. He began to carefully snip away at the irritating thread, taking his time to pull each and every piece out without tugging too much on your skin. You noticed aside from the two of you, the office sounded quiet.

"All alone today, too?" you asked.

"Yes, unfortunately," he said with a sigh. "My aide, Monica, got poached from me. They needed someone on patrol since-" he cut himself off and cleared his throat, and you frowned before you realized what he was about to say.

"Since they had to replace me," you finished for him.

"Yes."

Your lips pressed into a thin line as Nick continued to work away at your stitches. Another casualty in the hurricane that your accident seemed to cause.

"Hey, what if I helped you?" you blurted out, and his hands paused.

"You want to be my aide?"

"Sure. Well, do I need any medical knowledge? I don't know much, but I can help you with inventory or cleaning instruments or... whatever else you might need."

You could sense his hesitation without even having to see his face and you knew in an instant he was thinking about Joel.

"Maria approached me this morning about a job. She said it would be good for me and I agreed. But if I'm not qualified, I understand-"

"No, no, it's not that," he said, and you rolled your eyes. Of course not.

"Joel isn't the boss of me," you said after a moment. He stepped backwards and you lifted your head up to look at him.

"He's an intimidating man," Nick said by way of explanation. He snapped his gloves off and tossing them in the trash. "Why don't you run it by him first? As a favor to me?" he added with a half smile. You sighed and nodded before sliding off the bed.

"Sure, I'll talk to him when he gets back," you agreed, following Nick towards the front door. You thanked him before heading back down the street, your fingers gingerly tracing your closed wound before you shoved your hands into your pockets.

How the hell could one man manage to scare half the town the way Joel Miller did? You thought you were beginning to see a glimmer of the man underneath the hardened exterior, but what on earth drew you to him in the first place? What did your past self see in him that made you so enamored? And why couldn't you see it now? You were afraid the answer didn't so much lie with Joel, but with you.

You desperately needed to discover more of the person you were before your accident. Maybe then you would get some more insight.

When you got back to Joel's house, you decided to take what little quiet time you had left and read some more of your journal. As the sun rose in the sky, the day began to heat up a bit, taking away that frigid chill in the air, so you cracked a window in his living room and curled up on a worn out, but very comfortable, arm chair.

You flipped through the pages, your eyes landing on the last entry you read: Joel lied to me.

You never asked him about it. Either you were too afraid of the answer or you were too afraid he wouldn't tell the truth. At first, you tried to convince yourself that it was nothing. That maybe you had just gotten into a fight on that particular day and you were mad. But seeing how sporadically you had updated the journal, you got the feeling you wouldn't have written it unless it was important.

And why wouldn't you have elaborated? What could it have been? Something that was so serious, you didn't want to risk putting it down in writing?

You hadn't realized how long you were staring at those four words until you heard Joel's heavy footsteps climbing up the stairs of the porch. You snapped the book shut and looked up just as he opened the door. His dark eyes found you immediately and, as usual, you saw what you always saw - relief in seeing you again, the joy one had when they saw their other half, the attraction a man has for the one he loves.

Damn him and his expressive eyes.

"Hey," you said with a small smile, "how was patrol?"

"Not too bad," he replied, kicking off his boots. "Quiet. No infected. Me 'n Alex made short work of our route," he said, strolling over to collapse into the couch next to your chair. He rubbed his eyes with a deep sigh, his head resting on the back of the couch.

"Tired?"

"Yeah," he said, dropping his hand to his lap and rolling his head in your direction. "Glad I got tomorrow off. Maybe we can do somethin' together."

"Yeah, okay," you agreed. Maybe it would be a good opportunity to learn more about him without directly asking. His eyes drifted down to the journal in your lap and he jutted his chin towards it.

"Read anythin' interesting?"

Looking down at it for a brief moment, you thought about asking him what he lied about, but you ultimately decided against it.

"Yeah, actually," you said, flipping a different page open. "I wrote about a Ben and Lisa. Ellie told me we arrived together and they keep to themselves," you continued, looking up at him. His expression was unreadable. "Maybe I should pay them a visit one of these days. Maybe they can tell me a little about myself before-"

"Yeah, maybe," he said suddenly, then stood up to head towards the kitchen. You frowned, your eyes following him as he filled a glass of water. When he turned back to you, you were still looking at him, waiting for him to say something else.

"Why don't you give it a little time before you go seein' them," he suggested after downing his water in one gulp.

"It's been two weeks," you said quietly, "how much more time should I give it?" He shrugged and strolled back into the living room, leaning against the doorframe.

"What'dya wanna know?" he asked, avoiding your question. "I know you better than anyone. I can answer your questions."

"I didn't know you the whole ten years, though," you reminded him, unfolding your legs from the chair. "It sounds like they knew me longer. I just thought they could tell me how I survived-"

"For what?" he snapped, and his tone took a sudden turn. When you met his gaze again, the warmth was gone, and in its place was a face of stone. "What does that matter?" he asked, his voice rising a little. "You're here, you did what you had to do. We all did. What's the point in rehashin' it?"

"What's the point?" you repeated, bewildered. "The point is so I can learn about myself. So I can figure out the person I became, the person you fell in love with!"

Something flickered across his face for a brief moment before his eyes softened and his shoulders relaxed.

"You're right, I'm sorry," he said, the edge to his voice now gone. "I'll take you to see 'em one of these days. We'll go together. I haven't seen 'em in a while myself. It'd be good to catch up," he added.

"Okay," you said slowly, "thank you." He took a deep breath and angled his head towards the stairs.

"I'm gonna take a quick shower," he mumbled, and you nodded, your eyes following him up the steps until he disappeared around the corner.

Joel Miller was an incredibly difficult man to figure out. Just when you thought you knew who he was, he did something like that and it made you second guess yourself. You had determined that aggressive side came out when he was protecting the ones he loved. So who was he protecting this time?

"What'dya wanna do today?" Joel asked you around a mouthful of eggs from across your kitchen table.

"Um, I don't know," you said, pushing your food around on your plate uncomfortably. You thought spending time alone with him was a good idea, but when you woke up that morning, you felt nervous. "Did you have anything in mind?"

He sat back in his chair and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "If you were feelin' up for it, thought I could take you outside the walls a bit. Maybe teach you how to ride again."

You perked up at his suggestion. For some reason, you didn't consider leaving Jackson as an option.

"Yeah, that sounds great," you said with a grin, and his chest warmed at the sight. He missed seeing you smile. Then he remembered something that might make you smile again. He stood up quickly, his chair sliding back across the hardwood floor, and walked over to his backpack, still hanging by the door from yesterday.

"What are you doing?" you called after him, but he didn't reply until he reentered the room with his hands behind his back.

"Forgot I gotcha somethin' when I was out yesterday," he said, trying to bite back his smile. It didn't even occur to him until the last second that you might not like what he was about to give you, that maybe your tastes were different ten years ago, but it was too late now. Nervously, he held out two worn paperback books. You stood up with a curious look on your face and took them in your hands, your eyes running over the covers quickly before turning them over and reading the backs. He shifted his weight as he anxiously waited for your reaction, and when he was rewarded with another huge smile, he couldn't hold his own back.

"These sound great," you told him, glancing at the books again. "I love mysteries, this is..." you met his eyes briefly before shyly looking back down. "This is so thoughtful of you, Joel. Thank you."

He beamed with pride, thrilled that he was able to do something nice for you. "You're welcome, ba- ahem," he coughed, stopping himself from finishing his sentence. You looked back up at him, heat creeping up both of your necks. He cleared his throat and turned around, picking up your plates. "You're welcome," he said again, "thought you might be gettin' bored 'round here."

He rinsed the plates in the sink before heading towards the front door. You put your two books on the counter and trailed after him, the both of you sliding on your boots and jackets. Joel grabbed his backpack before opening the door for you and he followed you down the porch steps.

"Yeah, I'm definitely getting a little bored," you said, eyeing him up as you walked side by side towards the stables. "But speaking of that, I was talking to Maria yesterday and she suggested I get a job." His head swiveled over to you, lips parted in surprise, but before he could speak, you continued. "She said I can pick whatever I want, nothing too strenuous."

He nodded and looked straight ahead again, your words rolling around in his head. "Yeah, suppose that makes sense."

"Good," you said, pleased he was open to the idea. "So when I was at the infirmary yesterday, Nick mentioned-"

"Why were you at the infirmary? Were you in pain? Did you get hurt?"

"Joel, I was fine," you said with a huff. You pointed to the back of your head. "I had my stitches removed."

He stopped in his tracks, which made you skid to a halt. His arms reached out to lift up your hair but at the last second, he held back.

"Can I?" he asked over your shoulder, and you nodded. He gingerly lifted up your hair to take a look at your injury, which felt much better now that the stitches were gone.

"Made showering so much easier," you told him. He hummed and dropped your hair.

"Looks good," he said, and continued walking. "You shoulda waited, I woulda went with you," he added.

"It took ten minutes," you said, waving him off as the stables came into view. "But while I was there, Nick mentioned his aide got reassigned to patrol to fill my old position, so I offered to take her place."

"You wanna work at the infirmary?" he asked, and you shrugged.

"I don't know much, but he said I didn't need to. He just needs help around the office. Cleaning up, taking inventory, maybe help him with some minor procedures. Hand him tools and all that," you said, and Joel nodded slowly.

"Alright," he said, "if that's what you wanna do, sure."

And although you weren't asking for his permission, it felt like you got it, anyway.

As you got closer to the stables, the high pitched whinny of a horse in a nearby paddock caught both your attention. The horse looked smaller - younger - and was attached to a long rope, and in the center of the field holding the other end was a man around Joel's age. Even from a distance, you could see the clench in his jaw and the way his muscles strained to rein in the animal, but he was losing the fight. The horse was too young and too strong and kept pulling away, getting as far away from the man as possible before the lead went taught and the horse was forced to face the man again. Each time it happened, the horse let out a shrill whinny and stomped its hooves in the dirt, expressing its displeasure.

"That's Caleb," Joel said as you both paused to watch. "Must be breakin' in a yearling."

"Breaking in?" you asked, your eyes still glued to the horse, whose head was twisting around angrily, trying to break free.

"It means he's tryin' to tame her so we can ride her," he explained, and you nodded. You both leaned up against the fence and watched the beautiful animal rear up and then dig its hooves deeper into the dirt, dust kicking up into a cloud around them. Caleb was struggling. Sweat was dripping down his face as he tugged on the lead and shouted commands at the horse, but she was having none of it.

The horse's whinnies were becoming louder and more panicked. The whites of her eyes showed when Caleb attempted to get closer, his skin tight over his knuckles from holding onto the rope. Once Caleb got close enough, the horse swung its massive head around in the air then reared back again with all its might, pulling Caleb off his feet unexpectedly with a shout.

"Shit," Joel muttered. He gripped the top rail of the fence and hauled himself over before you could even process what was happening. You watched, eyes wide, as Joel ran into the middle of the field, his arms raised up high over his head to keep the horse from stomping on Caleb.

"Hey! Hey!" you heard Joel's booming voice shout at the animal, drawing her attention off Caleb. The horse charged at Joel, but swerved away at the last second. Joel turned around and gave Caleb a hand, dragging him to his feet before the horse made its way back to where they stood.

"Hey," Joel said, softer this time, but his arms still stretched out in front of him. The horse skidded to a stop a few feet away, snorting and pawing at the dirt, its long tail flicking back and forth. Caleb stood and dusted himself off before taking a few steps backwards to catch his breath, but Joel remained in the same spot. He stared down the animal, the two of them silently sizing the other up. Joel's voice rang out again, just as soft as before. "Hey, shh, girl," he said, relaxing his stance a bit.

You stood cemented to the ground, entranced, as you watched the stand off between man and beast. Joel didn't look scared. He barely even flinched when the horse let out another high pitched squeal. He stood tall and firm, refusing to back down, and patiently waited for the horse to come to him.

He left his arm outstretched as an olive branch, his eyes never leaving the horse. He murmured low, soothing noises until it took a tentative step forward. Joel nodded encouragingly and continued to speak softly, earning him another step.

You felt a stirring low in your stomach as you continued to watch, with your jaw slack and your breaths shallow. Joel finally reached out and grabbed the lead, then ran the flat of his hand slowly up and down the horse's nose, giving it a little scratch between the eyes, and you clenched your thighs together.

After a few minutes of Joel calmingly murmuring to the horse, he handed the rope back to Caleb, who expressed his deepest gratitude before carefully leading the filly back towards the stables. Joel turned back towards you, dusting his hands off as he walked. Your cheeks felt warm by the time he made it to the other side of the fence and climbed over.

"That was..." you trailed off, not sure what to say. He smirked at you as he leaned down to pick his backpack up. "That was really impressive," you finally squeaked out. Unbeknownst to you, he could see right through you. He'd known you for too long and he especially knew what you looked like when you were aroused. He eyed you up and down before nodding towards the stables.

"It's 'bout respect and patience. You get what you give," he explained as he wiped away some sweat that formed on the back of his neck. Your mouth went dry at the sight.

"H-have you done that before?"

"What, break in wild animals?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at you, and you nodded. If he didn't already clock the way you were reacting, he wouldn't have said what he said next. "No. Only you."

You choked on your laughter and he grinned.

"I hardly think I can compare to a wild horse," you said, your cheeks on fire.

"You're right. Tamin' you was harder."

"I thought I was the one who confronted you about sneaking around? Which is it?" you teased as you followed him into the barn, the scent of hay and leather and the sound of horses gently snorting in their stalls invading your senses.

"Oh, you did. You just didn't like sneakin' 'round. Took a lot longer to make you fall in love and move in with me," he said. He walked up to a list pinned to a clipboard and scribbled his name inside an empty slot.

"Mm, and you really think you can do it again?" you asked, trying to sound doubtful but your smile gave you away. He glanced down at you, leaning against the wall for a moment, his eyes lingering on your lips and cheeks before chuckling.

"Oh, absolutely," he said lowly, and you felt your heart flutter in your chest.

"Alright, Casanova. Let's get a move on," you said, rolling your eyes and turning away, but not before he caught the excited glint in your eye.

Thank god for Joel's backpack.

That was the only thing separating you two as you clung to him from behind as he steered your borrowed horse through the woods. It was peaceful. Serene, even. It was hard to believe so many horrible things happened, and were still happening, in this world when you were surrounded by such beauty. And you might have been able to appreciate it more if you weren't so utterly distracted by your body's reaction to Joel. You couldn't imagine what you would be thinking and feeling if there wasn't a buffer between you. Had you been able to feel each and every strong muscle in his back and shoulders, or the heat rolling off him, or fully commit to memory his very unique and intoxicating scent.

No, luckily you had some distance, and by the time he reached the field he was looking for, you felt like you had regained your senses. You brushed off your earlier reaction to your hormones and nothing more by the time you slid down from the horse and joined Joel on the ground.

"It's so quiet out here," you remarked, looking around and shrugging off your jacket. By now, the sun had risen high enough in the sky to warm everything up around you, the frosty morning air long since melted away. Joel tied the reins of your horse around a tree trunk and took off his own jacket, slinging it over the saddle.

"We used to come out here a lot," was all he said, avoiding your eyes. You looked around again, trying to find something familiar. He could tell what you were doing and he shook his head.

"Don't try to force it, it ain't gonna do any good," he said, and you looked over at him, surprised.

"Sorry. I'm really trying," you said softly, looking down at the dirt. He looked at you sadly, just for a moment when your attention was on your shoes, then forced a smile across his face.

"C'mon, I wanna show you somethin'."

You followed him through the thinning trees towards the open field; the grass waist high as you hiked through it together, cicadas singing all around you as you walked. The sun was growing more powerful, but you weren't uncomfortable.

"This is my favorite time of year," you told him, and he glanced over at you. "It's not too hot, not too cold."

He smiled and looked straight ahead once again. "I know. You like warm days and cold nights."

"That's right," you said, pressing your lips together and wondering if there would ever be anything you could tell him that he didn't already seem to know. "You have a good memory."

"When it comes to you, yeah."

Joel held out an arm to stop you, your face angled towards the ground as you walked so you wouldn't trip. You looked up when you ran into his arm, first at him, and then at the scenery before you.

It was breathtaking. Somehow, without even realizing it, you were on top of a mountain. Or, close to it, anyway. Near the edge, you looked around and saw other hills and valleys surrounding you, green and lush and full of life. A flock of blackbirds swooped by straight ahead, and way down below, between all the jagged rocks, was a little lazy river.

"This is beautiful," you breathed, your eyes glistening. Joel studied your face while you were distracted, his eyes never once looking at the nature surrounding you.

"Yeah, I know," he whispered. You dragged your eyes away from the view and gave him a dazzling smile, one that made his chest ache, before sitting down at the edge of the grass with a sigh.

"Okay. What do you miss most about your life before?" you asked him out of the blue. His stomach lurched, his mind immediately filled with thoughts of a little girl with curly hair and dark brown eyes that once made him finally understand the true meaning of unconditional love.

"Barbeques," he choked out, hoping you didn't pick up on his mood shift.

"Mm, that's a good one," you said dreamily, still staring out over the edge of the cliff. "What was your favorite part?"

He felt himself relax a bit as you forced his mind to shift gears. "The music. The food. Just... lazy weekends, hangin' out with friends or family. Spendin' time with people I cared 'bout."

"What's your favorite barbeque food?" you asked, pulling your knees up to your chest and turning your head towards him.

He thought about it for a moment, his daughter's memory drifting back into the recesses of his mind. "Ribs. Or maybe burgers. Tough call," he said with a chuckle. You slapped the side of your leg and turned your whole body towards him excitedly.

"Oh, my god. Speaking of ribs. My brother - Matty - one time he was in an 'all you can eat' ribs competition," you said, a grin already pulling at the corners of your mouth. "He was like, 22 at the time and he could really pack food away. Like, really eat. It scared the shit outta my mom, she had no idea how he did it and still stayed so trim," you said, and Joel chuckled. "Anyway, he entered this contest and all of the other contestants were these, like, huge guys. I'm talking pushing 300 pounds huge, right?" you said, the excitement evident in your voice now as your eyes shone bright, making Joel smile even more. "So, anyway, one by one these guys are dropping like flies and my brother just kept mowing down all these ribs like it was nothing. It was down to him and one other guy and the other guy looked like he was about to tap out. The prize was like, a thousand bucks, and we were all getting so damn excited. He was gonna win!" you said, your voice getting louder the more excited you became. Seeing you that happy for the first time in weeks made Joel's heart feel like it was going to burst, so he played along and urged you on. "Then, Matty freezes. And I'm staring at him. And he's just staring down at his hands, and we're all like 'what the hell is he doing?' and suddenly - woosh!" you said with a giggle, using your arms for emphasis. "He pukes everywhere! It was so fucking much, Joel! And it was so disgusting, oh my god. People were running from their seats and dry heaving, and me and my parents are fucking dying with laughter," you said, your giggles growing louder the more you remembered. You wiped a stray tear from the corner of your eye as you continued. "Anyway, of course he got disqualified and he never could be in the same room as a rack of ribs ever again," you finished, flashing him a grin. But when you saw his expression, although he was smiling and giving you some obligatory laughs, you could tell it wasn't the first time he had heard that story.

"You knew that already, didn't you?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. He smirked and looked down at his hands.

"Yeah," he admitted, and you groaned. "But it's still a real funny story. I love the way you tell it."

"I wonder if there's anything I didn't tell you," you said with a sigh. He inched a little closer when he heard the despair in your voice.

"It doesn't matter. I love hearin' everythin' 'bout you," he said, and you gave him a little smile. "You could tell me a hundred times and I wouldn't care."

He kept saying that word. Love. Over and over, like it was nothing. You looked away, his eye contact too intense all of the sudden, and stared out at the beauty before you. But you could still feel the heat of his gaze on your skin. It sent a shiver down your spine. Your mind raced, trying to think of something else to say when he softly whispered your name. You tilted your head in his direction and the look in his eye caused you to temporarily forget how to breathe. He was staring at you like you were the only other person in the world. Like you were a siren, calling to him on the sea, or Aphrodite, knocking him to his knees in prayer.

No, no, no, you thought as he leaned in a fraction, his eyes flicking down to your lips. Too soon. Not ready.

A blood curdling screech echoed from somewhere behind you. Somewhere far too close for comfort. You froze, eyes wide and scared, but Joel whipped around and reached into his backpack, pulling out his revolver and knife.

Stay here, he mouthed, pressing a finger to his lips, and you couldn't remember if you acknowledged him or not before he crouched and disappeared into the long grass, leaving you all alone on the edge of a very dangerous cliff with some terrifying monster nearby. Slowly, trying very hard not to make a sound, you turned your head, searching for the source of the noise. As you scanned the field, the tall grass hiding Joel somewhere in its depths, you spotted it. It, being the only proper word.

It was hideous. Fucking disgusting. Half its face was overgrown with fungus plates, its mouth wide and wet and dribbling with blood, teeth yellowed and bared. It hunched over as it got closer and closer to you, snapping its jaw like a lion, trying to locate its next meal. You swallowed roughly as it got closer, its torn clothes and bent fingers coming into view. And the smell. The stench of death and rot filled the air, completely ruining the beautiful backdrop you were admiring mere minutes ago. Your heart slammed wildly in your chest, your breathing unsteady and your hands shook violently. You had nothing to defend yourself. You looked to your side, wondering if you could push it over the cliff if necessary. Where was Joel?!

Just as it was about to clear the grass and step into the clearing, Joel leapt up behind the creature and stabbed it in the back of the head with a loud grunt. It collapsed in an instant, blood spilling from its skull as Joel stood over the corpse, shoulders and chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath.

"Oh my god," you whispered, your trembling hands coming up to cover your mouth as you stared at the lifeless body. You hadn't seen an infected alive yet. And they were far more terrifying than you ever imagined. Tears welled up in your eyes that you quickly tried to flick away, but Joel already noticed.

"You okay?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed with worry as he cleaned his knife off in the grass.

"Yeah," you replied shakily, still staring at the dead infected a few feet away. You slowly forced yourself to your feet and walked around it, only stopping when you were safely in the grass. With a grunt, Joel kicked the body closer and closer to the edge until it tumbled over. You winced as you heard its body faintly thudding and cracking against the rocks and branches below. He glanced over at you, your face screwed up with a mix of distaste and fear, and he sighed.

"Wanna just head back?"

"Yeah," you said, looking at the view once more before following him through the tall grass. "It was nice while it lasted, though."

The two of you trudged through the grass quietly, back towards the woods. He could tell you were shaken up and he inwardly cursed the clicker for ruining what could have ended up being a really nice day with you. A day where he thought he was making some progress. He made you smile and laugh and he definitely recognized that heated look in your eye back at the stables, but all of those memories suddenly seemed so distant. It wasn't until the horse came into view that he even remembered why he brought you out in the first place.

"You still wanna learn to ride?"

You looked up at him, your perfect lips parted ever so slightly. It made him want to grab your chin and press his mouth against yours so he could remember what you felt like again.

"Oh, sure," you said, glancing wearily over at the horse as you approached.

"Why don't you take the reins and I'll sit behind you," he offered as he untied the horse from the tree. "That way I can take over if you're feelin' too nervous."

"Okay..." you agreed slowly, realizing that meant he would be pressed up against you for the entire ride home. And this time, there wouldn't be a buffer.

He laced his fingers together and bent forward, offering you a boost. You got a good grip on the saddle and delicately placed your foot in his hands before he launched you upwards. You swung your leg over and shifted in the saddle a bit, looking down at the back of the horse's head. Its long ears flickered back and forth, trying to shoo away the flies.

You gasped when the saddle shifted slightly and Joel climbed up behind you. Your body stiffened and you stared straight ahead as he got himself comfortable. You tried to block it out, but when his arms wrapped around you from behind and took the reins from your grasp, you realized it would be impossible.

"This is how you wanna hold 'em, see?" he murmured softly in your ear, and you immediately felt goosebumps break out up and down your arms. He hadn't been this close before. Not even when he was examining your head wound. His exhale tickled the side of your neck and you realized his lips were dangerously close to your exposed skin. When it occurred to you that he had asked you a question, you blinked and snapped out of it.

"Yeah," you said, and you hoped he would think your hands were shaking because you were nervous to ride and nothing more.

"Now we're ridin' western, so when you steer, you wanna pull the reins across, like this," he said, demonstrating with his hands over yours, and just like that, the horse turned to the left. "And you just do the opposite if you wanna go the other way."

"Okay, makes sense," you replied, surprised you were actually following along.

"You want the horse to move, you gotta squeeze your legs. Gotta do it hard, though. It's a big animal, they can't feel you if you don't squeeze hard."

"Uh huh," you said, so you gave it a try. You squeezed your legs as hard as you could and the horse slowly lumbered forwards, and you squealed with excitement. "I did it!"

Joel chuckled behind you. You could feel the deep rumble through your back and the little puffs of air from his nose on your neck. It made you shudder, and you tried to pass it off like you were cold. The horse began to slowly walk back the way you came, through the trees and past a little stream, and the longer you walked, the more confident you became.

"This isn't so bad," you admitted, and you weren't sure if you were talking about Joel's embrace or riding the horse. You were growing used to his arms around you now, even though you didn't really need his hands to guide yours, you didn't say anything. It was... nice.

"How do I make it go faster?" you asked.

"Well, you can give her a little kick, or you can click your tongue. You remember how to click your tongue?"

You laughed a little and without thinking, you gave it a try. Clicking your tongue experimentally against your teeth sent the horse rushing forward. Just into a trot, but it still took you off guard. You gasped and leaned back into Joel's chest, looking to steady yourself so you wouldn't fall. You could feel him laughing behind you as he tightened his arms around your waist and gave the reins a gentle tug, slowing the horse back down to a walk.

"Not funny!" you exclaimed, but your smile gave you away.

He missed this. He really missed this. He missed holding you and laughing with you and spending time with you. What he wouldn't give to kiss you again. He ached for the way you tasted, the way you moaned underneath him, the feeling of your smooth skin under his rough palms. Every day that passed he felt like he was forgetting little by little, and the urge to remind himself, the urge to pull you into his arms and kiss you deeply and take you to bed with him was becoming more intense by the day.

But he had to be patient. He could be patient. You'd come around, one day. He was sure of it.

By the time you made it back to Jackson, you were feeling much more at ease. Maybe this is what you needed. Some time away with Joel, just the two of you, so you could learn more about him. You had to admit, you were beginning to see a very soft and sweet side to him that you only caught glimpses of in the past.

Before today, you hadn't been able to understand the attraction. He was good looking, you already knew that, but you also knew that couldn't have just been it. That wasn't enough to share a love for one another that he classified as rare and meant to be. Now, it was starting to become clearer. There was something inherently sexy about the way he handled himself. The confidence he had, which, at first, came off as cocky, you now viewed in a different light. After the way he handled the horse in the pasture and the clicker in the field, you were beginning to understand.

Joel Miller was a protector. He cared deeply and passionately for the ones he loved, and he stopped at nothing to defend them. Sometimes that love was misplaced as anger, and that's where he kept losing you.

He had asked if you felt up to joining Tommy and Maria at the dining hall for dinner, and even though you were a little tired from your outing, you agreed.

As you walked down the street together, he had to fight the impulse to hold your hand. He still noticed the way people looked at you, their curiosity over your now famous injury getting the best of them, but once they caught his eye they quickly averted their gaze. It angered him, he couldn't help it. He didn't want you to feel uncomfortable. You didn't deserve to be gawked at.

You followed Joel through the crowded hall once again, and just like before, the crowd naturally parted for him. He seemed to be making his way towards the back, towards the same table as before, only this time Tommy and Maria were already seated and waiting.

Maria greeted you with a hug and you gave Tommy a quick smile across the table before sitting down between her and Joel.

"Beautiful day out today," Maria said off to the side while Joel and Tommy talked amongst themselves.

"Yeah, it really was. I'm gonna miss it when the snow comes," you said, giving her a face. "Who's watching your daughter?" you asked suddenly, glancing around as if you could have possibly missed a small child running around.

"Oh, Dina offered to babysit, so we jumped at the chance to get out of the house," she said with a laugh. "Did you do anything exciting today?"

"Yeah, actually," you said, glancing at Joel, who was still talking quietly to his brother. "Joel taught me how to ride a horse. Well... re-taught me, I guess," you said with a small laugh.

"Thats fantastic. I'm glad you were feeling well enough to go out," Maria said with a warm smile.

"Oh, that reminds me-" you said, stopping yourself when Seth came over to take your orders. You just asked for what Maria was getting and turned your attention back to her. "I thought of a job."

Her eyes widened in surprise and she clapped her hands together. "Let's hear it!"

"I thought I could help out at the infirmary," you said, and she nodded along thoughtfully. "Nick was telling me his aide had to join patrol and he says he just needs someone to help do things around the office."

"That sounds like a great idea," she said, but you could hear the hesitation in her voice. When she glanced over at Joel, you connected the dots and sighed.

"He's fine with it," you grumbled, your gaze dropping to your hands.

"Fine with what?" Joel's voice asked from beside you.

"She wants to help out at the infirmary," Maria said, and Tommy grinned.

"Great idea, sugar," he said, "Nick could use the help. He's smart, but he's disorganized as all hell."

"I think it'll be good for you," Joel said, his knee knocking against yours under the table. "Help you get to know everyone a little better. Besides, if anythin' were to happen, you're in the right place," he added, leaning back in his chair so Seth could put his plate down in front of him.

"What do you mean?" you asked, picking up your fork and then scrunching your nose when you saw cherry tomatoes on your plate. Without even looking up, Joel speared the tomatoes with his fork and put them on his plate, then the three of you watched as he gathered his squash and gave it to you.

"I mean, if your head ever got to hurtin' again, then you'd be in the right place," he explained, looking up and licking the pad of his thumb. He frowned a bit when he noticed the table staring at him, and Tommy and Maria quickly ducked their heads to focus on their food, hiding their smiles.

"What?"

You dropped your gaze shyly to your plate and poked at the squash with your fork. "You know I hate tomatoes."

Heat crept up his neck a bit but he grinned. "The acid upsets your stomach," he said, and you chuckled to yourself, about to say something else when Jesse happened to walk by your table with some friends.

"Hey, Jesse!" Tommy called out, making him stop. He gave you all a quick wave before looking at Tommy expectantly. "Think you can join in on the 10am patrol tomorrow? Joel was just tellin' me he saw a clicker in that zone. Don't want any surprises like last time."

"Yeah, of course," Jesse said, then Joel frowned.

"Speakin' of last time," Joel said, his eyes drifting back and forth between the two men. "You never did explain how she got hurt on your patrol."

"That's right," you said, setting down your fork, "what happened? How did I fall? Was it the horse?"

Tommy and Jesse exchanged a nervous look. It was quick, but Joel still caught it. His jaw ticked to the side as he patiently waited for an answer.

"Uh, it was all so fast, and so much was happenin'," Tommy said, clearly floundering.

"Yeah, it's kinda hard to remember exactly," Jesse said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Well, try," Joel said, his voice dropping an octave. You turned your head slightly to look at him, not understanding why there was a sudden mood shift.

"We got ambushed by a small hoard," Tommy began, pushing his food around on his plate. "Thought we had it handled til a bunch more came outta nowhere," he continued, looking up to meet your eye now. "You were takin' down a runner, didn't see one comin' up behind you and it pushed you down. Knocked your head on a sharp boulder. Jesse 'n me took down the rest of 'em and that's when we realized you were knocked out cold."

You nodded, the story making sense as you remembered waking up to them yelling your name and their clothes covered in blood. But Joel wasn't satisfied. He knew they were leaving something out.

"That all?" he pressed, eyeing his brother. Tommy looked at Joel, a tense moment passing between the two before Tommy slowly nodded. He was about to open his mouth to speak when Jesse interrupted.

"It was my fault."

The whole table turned to look at him, taken aback. His hands were fidgeting at his sides as he avoided Joel's intense stare, trying to look anywhere but at him.

"I wanted to check out this department store. It was too big, we hadn't cleared the area, b-but we hadn't seen any infected in weeks a-and I thought we were good," he said, glancing up quickly at Joel, who was clenching his jaw and glaring at Jesse.

"What'd you need so bad from this store?" Joel seethed, and you saw Jesse swallow nervously.

"I-it's me and Grace's anniversary soon, wanted to get her something-"

Joel stood up quickly, his chair tumbling backwards, clattering loudly on the ground and silencing the room.

"So you wanted to get your girlfriend a present? That's why she can't remember a goddamn thing?" Joel roared, pointing at you. Tommy stood up and held his hands out.

"Calm down, Joel."

"I ain't calmin' down!" he shouted, and you jumped in your chair, scooting away from him and closer to Maria, who put an arm around you and urged you to stand.

"Let's go to the bar," she murmured, ushering you away as if she knew what was coming.

"I-I'm so sorry, Joel," Jesse stammered, tripping over his feet as he tried to put some distance between them.

"Sorry ain't gonna bring her back," he growled, rounding the table, his shoulders tight and his eyes wild. He reached out and grabbed Jesse by the collar before Tommy could react, and slammed him face first into the table. Food and cutlery went everywhere. People at nearby tables backed away but stayed to watch the fight unfold. Joel lifted Jesse up and smashed his face into the table again with a grunt, and this time you heard Jesse cry out in pain. You covered your mouth in horror as you watched Tommy try to pry Joel's hands off of him. "Wonder how many hits it'll take before you forget Grace. Maybe then we'll be even!" he shouted, pulling him back up by the collar. By now, blood poured from Jesse's mouth and his cheeks, mixing with tears as he tried to pull Joel's hands away. Just as Joel was about to slam his head into the table for a third time, you found your voice.

"Stop!!" you screamed, and by some miracle, he did. He still gripped Jesse's shirt in his hands, but Joel twisted his head around to look at you. Whatever he in your face made his fingers loosen their grip and Jesse stumbled backwards, collapsing into a chair as Tommy kneeled down next to him, trying to wipe away the blood.

Joel turned his whole body toward you, his face red and his chest heaving. His eyes were still crazed with anger but you could see it slowly melting away.

He took a step forward and you took a step back.

His eyes dropped to your feet, regret washing over him in an instant.

"Maria, can you gimme a hand?" Tommy called out, and she rushed over to help Jesse stand. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw them slowly leading Jesse towards the front door, no doubt in search of the doctor to help patch his wounds, but your eyes remained locked on Joel.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, not caring about all the onlookers still frozen in silence. But you did. You opened your mouth, then glanced around and thought better of it.

"Not here," you said under your breath, then stalked towards the exit, pushing your way past people until you felt the cool night air in your lungs.

You hurried down the street, wrapping your arms around yourself as you barreled home. You didn't turn around to see if he was following you. You knew he was. It was almost like you could feel him now. His presence draped around you like a scarf, surrounding you, engulfing you, suffocating you.

Storming up the porch steps, you flung the door open and walked inside, not bothering to close it behind you. You charged into the kitchen and paced around, your anger boiling inside you with nowhere for it to go.

"I'm sorry," he tried again from the doorway, trying to give you space. You stopped in your tracks and looked at him. His eyebrows were pinched together as he quietly waited for you to say something.

"Have you always been like this?"

His breath caught in his throat and he paused for a moment before replying. "Since we met? Yes."

"So you're saying I've caused you to act like a caveman when you hear something you don't like?" you shot back, crossing your arms defiantly.

"No, no, that's not - what I meant was, since you've known me, I've... had a temper," he said, quickly correcting himself.

You let a silent moment pass between you as you thought about what he said.

"It's no wonder it took me so long to fall in love with you," you said, and he winced. He looked away, trying to hide the pain, and you couldn't help but feel a little bad, but you stood your ground.

"It didn't bother you before," he mumbled, looking at the ground.

"Well, it bothers me now," you snapped, and he nodded.

"Okay, then I'll work on it," he conceded, looking up at you. "Happy?"

You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Thrilled."

Brushing past him, you marched up the stairs towards your bedroom and slammed the door shut behind you.

You could hear him moving around downstairs as you washed up and changed into pajamas, still seething at his behavior. How could you possibly fall in love with this man? You could barely figure out who he was - one minute he was soft and sweet, and the next he was bashing people's faces in. Even you could see it wasn't really Jesse's fault. The three of you would have agreed to check out the store together. Joel was just looking for someone to blame. It was immature and brutish and stupid.

Just as you pulled the covers over yourself, you heard a quiet rap on the door. You paused for a moment before rolling your eyes.

"Come in."

The door slowly creaked open and Joel slipped inside your room, glancing around at the bedroom you once shared together before looking at you.

"Can we talk?"

You furrowed your brow for a second before nodding, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He stepped forward and perched on the side of the bed, facing the wall so you could only see his side profile as he sat, deep in thought. You pulled your legs up so your chin rested on your knees and waited.

"I lied to you."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and you couldn't help but think of the journal - Joel lied to me - and wondered if this was it. If you were going to get your answer.

"When you asked me what I missed most 'bout... before. I lied."

Okay, so probably not the lie in the journal, but still, your interest was piqued.

"What do you miss most?" you finally asked, and he sucked in a deep breath, his eyes glistening as he stared at the wall.

"My daughter. Sarah."

Your heart clenched in your chest and your gaze dropped to your hands. A daughter?

A long silence passed as you slowly connected the dots. The way he was with Ellie. The anger. The journal entry about Tommy having a daughter. The softness he kept hidden away.

"She died on outbreak day," he began, his throat already constricting. "Died in my arms. She was shot and-" he sniffled and took a deep breath. "And I couldn't save her. I held her and watched the light leave her eyes and I -" he choked back a sob and looked down, still avoiding your gaze. "I've never been the same," he finally managed to get out.

You swallowed back the tears that were forming. How couldn't you see? Of course he was hurting. Of course he lost someone. Just like you lost your family, he lost his. Were you that selfish and blind that you couldn't see it?

"Joel, I'm so sorry," you said shakily, but he shook his head.

"Just wanted to explain why I'm... whatever," he replied, giving up and rubbing his face.

Your chest ached for him. He was in pain and you couldn't stand it. Inching forward, you wrapped your arms around his neck, tentatively resting the side of your head on his shoulder. His hand came up to cup your elbow and he tilted his head so it rested against yours.

"I'm sorry," you repeated softly.

"Me, too."

You stayed like that for a while. Extending small olive branches to each other as you sat with the weight of what the world did to you both, and you finally began to understand what might have brought you together in the first place.

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #the last of us game #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #ikwya fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou

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teleiapotami · 7 months

Text

I was tagged by @tokkias in this WIP-Share game, so here we go!

rules: share the first line (or two or more!) of every current wip you have (that you feel comfortable sharing) and tag some writer friends! feel free to add the titles of your documents if you see fit

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Dragon Bound (Chaptered)

“The only question that matters is this: How do we choose?” Murmurs lifted around the room again before someone cut in loudly.

“Ultear! You can’t seriously be in line with this idea!” The small-framed older man crossed his arms over his chest, his frown deepening.

“I see no other alternative Yajima. Four of those dragons are ravaging our nation, killing at will. If the sacrifice of one person can stem their bloodlust, then the only question that needs answering is…how do we choose?”

Villainy (Working Title, Chaptered)

The first time he saw her was at some high society function, he didn’t remember which one. They were young, no more than 6 and 7 years old. The adults were talking around him when he noticed the blonde girl in her puffy blue dress and shiny black shoes. She was holding an elegant woman’s hand and kicking her feet aimlessly. He tugged on his father’s sleeve insistently.

“Dad, can I go play with her?” he asked when Igneel leaned down to him. His father glanced over at the child his son indicated and smiled.

“Of course you can. Mind your manners, son,” he warned lightly. Natsu beamed at his father and practically bounced across the room. Igneel watched his son completely forget his manners, failing to bow to the girl or her mother.

No Title

Natsu tugged at the stiff collar of his shirt. He knew he was lucky to be a footman, especially in a house as prestigious as the Heartfilia Estate, but that didn’t make the uniform any less itchy. He was grateful for his promotion, truly. He’d never expected (or wanted) to be more than just a kitchen boy. What job could be better? The work was heavy and the hours long, but he was a strong young man, so it never bothered him. Besides that, working in the kitchens gave him ample opportunity to swipe a bit of whatever Mirajane, the cook, was making that day.

But being a footman meant more free time, better pay, and better perks. As a footman, he would get to travel a bit, instead of getting left behind all the time. An empty manor could be an adventure of its own, but he wanted to see the world more than he wanted to explore the empty gardens that he already knew back to front. Footmen also had a better chance of being taken seriously when trying to buy land or a home, and Natsu wanted nothing more than to build a home along a river somewhere and while his days away fishing and dreaming.

No Title

“So, what is it like when you become E.N.D.?”

Natsu looked over at her. Lucy was laying on her stomach, waving her bare legs in the air as she read through a book. She was sitting up on her elbows now, looking up at him. “What’s got you thinking about that all of a sudden?” he wondered.

Lucy ran a slender finger along the page of her book. Something I read in here reminded me of that Tartaros guy, Jackal. He was able to choose between his forms at will, remember? Can you do that? Or is he something separate from you entirely?”

Natsu hummed thoughtfully, trying to remember the feelings he’d experienced in his limited transformations. “I think I could learn to do it….I remember what happens when I take his form, so it’s not like I’m….gone or anything. Lucy nodded and tapped her lip thoughtfully.

Futures (Working Title, One Shot)

“Lucy, now that it’s over, I just…. I wanna hold her. What do you think? You would know her better than I do…is she ready?” he asked the stone. “Did your Natsu ever manage to tell you how he felt? I don’t think he would have. He didn’t have to watch you die.” He fell silent for a long time, just staring at the tree branches sightlessly.

“I think about that a lot. Did he love you as much as I love her? Did you love him too? ……Does she?” His voice was barely above a whisper. He glanced over at the stone and sat up on his elbows. “I wish things could have been different for you and him. I hope you find each other again,” he murmured. He pushed himself into a squat and gazed at the flowers he’d left.

“Happy Birthday Lucy,” he said gently before standing up. “Wish me luck.”

There you go! A hand full of snippets for snacking! I'd love to hear your thoughts or feedback, and to see what you are working on too! I think Tokkias already tagged all my writing friends except @kiliinstinct.

#creative writing #WIP Share Gane #fic writer ask game #fairy tail fanfic #ao3 fanfic #fairy tail nalu #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #natsu x lucy #fairy tail #snippets #wip game

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itgetsbetteroneday · 2 years

Text

He says he loves me, he lies through his teeth

He’s giving me reasons I’m not what he needs

He’s breaking my heart, then he asks why it bleeds

He’s driving me senseless

He must want me cause he always comes back

I’m too much to lose, but I’m too much to have

He thinks he’s a tattoo, he’s more like a rash

He’s itchy and ditchable

He walks the town like he’s in a new band

He sticks up his chin but then sticks out a hand

He promised me goals but I’m not the plan

I pay a dime for a penny

His girl is too much and their love is too little

Not cause him tho, he’s so fucking essential

I call him out and he says I’m so bitter

Look where that got me

He calls my phone and I let that shit ring

He’s pounding the door and I let that man sing

He tells me I’m wrong about this whole dang thing

I don’t wanna know you

He drops a tape and it sounds like it’s cracked

He wants to play defense, I never attacked

Yeah he had my heart and I had his back

now I feel stupid

He’s on the soapbox, I’m at the altar

He’s preaching to people, I’m praying to gods, yeah

He wants it back, I want it to stop here

Let it be over

He thinks I’m clueless, but I wrote the book

I got him down, I don’t need to look

He’s planning the next move, I’ve got the playbook

It’s through

He thinks it’s his win, I don’t blink an eye

It’s really a loss, if it’s only a tie

I won your absence, don’t undo the time

I lost trying to love you

He says he hates me, he lies through his teeth

He’s giving me reasons, I don’t have the need

Patched myself this whole time

That’s why I’m not bleeding, hey

I hate this whole road I’ve been driving alone

He’s dead-end hell, he swore he was home

Now how do I forget all I have known

The silence is devastating

And I’m getting calls from the past

It’s hard to move on, I can’t go back

I made my mistakes, I drank from the flask

And love is poison

I swore for years I had no one to hold

Everybody comes, I make em all go

I still keep the image that I’m all alone

Guess that’s how I’m comfortable

I live in dreams, he lives in the world

I dabble in the real, then cut out the known

I don’t know how to feel, he’s right, I am cold

Now he’s fucking up my mind

He stops by my place, he stumbles and folds

My glass table shatters, it all gets thrown

We can’t live like this, it’s getting old

I’d rather fake a new scenery

He grabs his knife and I grab my hopes

Our whole block is fucked up anymore

I have no words, we lost the oath

Still swearing he wants me

His hands are shaking and mine are too thin

Maybe that’s why it’s just scribbled in

We never had time for a shape-up and cleanse

It’s all just so messy

I don’t want him back, I just wanna fight

This time I’d kick, next time I’ll bite

You were the one that made me get violent

How do I know if I know me?

He says I take it too far but I’d take it all back

If I knew it then, I would just laugh

It’s out of my pocket, it’s all highly taxed

And he don’t care

He comes back, he never tells the truth

Where have you been? What’s up with you?

Your goal is the same, but your tracksuit is new

Your ass still says it’s cute

He lives in my mind,

he takes up my time

I forgot what came before he died

Were you more or less a villain than I made you?

People asked, but he never told

People still do, but now I hold the torch

And I don’t ever know what I should say

Hey, I still relive it every day

It was fucked up what you did to me

And I’m not gonna lie

The thing that saved me killed me

As a child

Why couldn’t you leave me

With the truth

However that shit added up for you?

I shouldn’t have to hit replay

Remember every word you’d say

Like magic answers lie within the page?

You shouldn’t leave me holding onto you

Make me believe you’re my whole truth

Like the only thing I had I threw away?

How dare you for fucking up like this

What made you stop and realize it

Was that the spider creeping your brain?

Was I really the realization

Had you at god’s doorstep praying

Any step away would clear your name?

Did you ever care about my life

Tuck me in and say goodnight

Moses drifting down his fucking way?

Did you ever really give a fuck about me?

He says he loves me, he lies through his teeth

He’s giving me reasons he’s not what I need

He doesn’t get to make that choice now

He says he hates me, he lies through his teeth

He’s saying I’m different, yeah, you ruined me

You fucking prick, and I defend your name

I died too the day I went insane

And you never gave a damn about me

Why can’t— Why can’t you leave me with the truth

I’m right where you left me, you left me abused

I’m not your boy, I’m not your muse

You dedicate your art too

The skill behind the knot of a noose

You don’t get to blame me for you

This ain’t the life where you get to choose

And leave me with notes that make me break loose

Free from the last bit of hope that I knew

Hoping on you

Hope it aint true

Hoping that maybe somehow we’re still cool

Making up stories to cover with wool

But these eyes are still going back to you

I can’t pretend and I cannot lie

I keep going back, I can’t say goodbye

What if you were the love of my life

And I scratched that?

I say I love him, I lie through my teeth

Truth is I never know what I am feeling

I gave him my heart, but he left that shit bleeding

It’s so cruel

I say I hate him, I lie through the pain

He drove me crazy, in love and insane

I burn all the bad and then rack my brain

How could I hate him?

He walks in my day whenever it shines

He ended his days and still wants my nights

If you wanted a life, why not take mine?

You would have still escaped me

I live in the past, he died long ago

I think I’ve gone crazy, be merciful

My murder still haunts me,

The case is closed

He calls my phone and I let that shit ring

He calls my name and I let that man sing

I won’t ever know what that really was

I paid a dime for a penny

0 notes

raiisakitsune · 2 years

Text

-> Christmas at the O’Neills household. Or in which Rue and Ash have a debate who’s the favorite auntie/uncle. Fez and Lexi try to tame the chaos.

Read on Ao3 or under the cut:

/////

Beyond her control, every Christmas Lexi naturally remembers the first conversation she and Fez had shared on a stranger’s couch at a stranger’s house.

It wasn’t the beginning, because they’d known each other formerly, but it was the catalyst. A gratitude-filled spark plug in their relationship.

Celebrating Christmas wasn’t foreign by any means, because her mom was biased on having one every year. Her mom’s enthusiasm and determination to have a good family time made up for her own lack of care about Christmas just enough to grant her excitement for hot cocoa and movie nights. Maybe it was just her mom's way of keeping tradition even after their dad left. To keep hope and comfort. To keep an anchor.

If you asked her what old Christmas was like, Lexi wouldn’t deliver an incandescent answer. Now, however..

Christmas was in Fez. Fez waking up early despite the winter glistening wind to stack the chicken houses with hay for warmth, feed the sheep and cattle milk and brush the horse’s coarse hair coats. Tree shopping for the perfect tree for hours on end, buying dopey matching, itchy sweaters just for the fun of it. Now, Fez was the centerpiece of Christmas. Of Lexi herself.

Christmas was Faye and Ash clearing their schedules (Ash with college, Faye with work at the shelter home) to visit the farm house. Rue comes around too, ensuing chaos swiftly as she does.

Although Lexi didn’t mind the shenanigans. It was chaos. But it was her chaos. Her family.

The same family in which had a new addition to Them. A lovely little bundle of freckled dotted cheeks, and chocolate curls. A bundle that was as of right now tugging at Lexi’s hair.

“Mommy! Mommy! It’s Christmas! Get up or Santa will get upset!” Ashlee, her beautiful daughter says, voice haltering slightly with each jump she jumped on the mattress.

Lexi opened one eye, the light emitting through the lace curtain wasn’t harsh, but it was enough to make her flinch lightly and blink a few times, hiding her face. “I’m up, I’m up.” She mumbled into the pillow.

Her hand instinctively went to the empty side of the bed closest to the door. “Where’s daddy?” She asks Ashlee, who now curled into Lexi’s chest and wrapped her small legs around her hips.

“In the kitchen. Making pancakes with Auntie Faye.” Lexi kisses the crown of her head tenderly.

“Let’s go say hi.” She goes to stand up, with Ashlee still clinging to her and they head to the kitchen.

The sight she sees never fails to warm her. Like sun rays after harsh wind. Fez flipping pancakes in his pjs so attentively. Putting all his love in a simple breakfast for his family. A small gesture of “I love you so.”

He noticed she was there, the moment he turned around his face lit up, like always. “Morning baby,” he abandons the pan in favor of giving Lexi a forehead kiss. “C’mere, angel.” He says, giving Ashlee a kiss on her cheek, earning a happy giggle from the three year old.

“Fez we’re literally starving.” Rue calls out from her seat at the dinner table with a still sleepy Ash.

“Instead of complainin’, how ‘bout you two actually help?”

“It’s blueberry pancakes,” Ash frowns. “How fuckin’ hard can it be?”

“Jar.” Faye deadpans, pointing with a spatula to the jar on the kitchen counter. “Swear is a no-no.” Ash unwillingly, with a scowl, put a 10 dollar pill in it.

“I don’t wanna brag but I’ve lived up to my “favorite aunt” title and got Ashy, the best gift of her life.” Rue says proudly.

Ash scoffs, “favorite? says who?”

“What’re you trying to say, dickwad?” Rue challenges.

“Rue- JAR!”

“We all know who Ashlee’s favorite is.” He explains.

“Me.” Rue and Ash speak at the same time.

“I don’t wike this.” Ashlee confesses to Lexi.

She pats her back, “Nobody chooses their family honey.”

——————

Every year rue or ash (always these two) would come up with new activities to try out. Last year was Secret Santa, which was horribly unplanned and the only people who got each other accurate, loving, normal gifts were Lexi and Fez. The others… let’s just say glitter bombs were banned from the O’nell household indefinitely.

This year however the try out was opening the gifts at midnight instead of first thing in the morning.

“So what do you guys say,” Lexi says, but her question is directed more towards Ashlee. “We open gifts at midnight or tomorrow morning?”

“I think in the morning,” Faye says. “It’s more fun!”

“Hell no!” Ash and Rue say in unison… again. Both are too eager to wait 8 hours of sleep to prove their point and flaunt their respective gifts to their niece.

“I want to open presents now!” Ashlee demands, scrunching her nose adorably, and Fez melts at the sight.

Lexi chuckles, “okay then, it’s decided.” She looked at the clock on the wall, “we open gifts in 20 minutes!”

“Ion even know why you’re botherin’ yourself idiot, I’m obviously her favorite.”

“Clownery!” Rue retorts. “Say you’re wrong now and avoid the embarrassment of being 100% wrong.”

“You’re talking?!” Ash throws his head back in a fit of laughter. “Bitch you’re the queen of embarrassment!”

“ASH. ONE MORE TIME AND I SWEAR.” Lexi warns. Ash gives a nervous cough. “You two have got to stop, seriously.”

“Not my fault Ash keeps being a fuc-“ Rue’s eyes trails to Lexi’s glaring ones. “Fudging coward.” She manages.

“I ain’t the one scared of Mrs. Nancy Drew.” He throws back. “No offense lex.”

“Ash, I swear to fu- Freakin’ god.” Fez says, equally scared.

“Who’s Nancy drew?” Faye asks.

“A suwper famous character in detectiwve novels that mommy likes!” Ashlee answers from her place on the couch.

“Ohhh.”

Everybody stopped and watched in amusement for a second.

“Am I the only one who feels like that question-answer should’ve been backwards.” Rue says, Ash nods in agreement.

Not long after ash and rue resumed.

“You don’t stand a chance!” Ash declares. “We both share the same name, she likes me better, it’s not up for debate.”

“Ugh, please!” Rue rolls her eyes, “I buy her all her favorite candy.”

“Oh yeah? Well she depends on me for assembling her Lego sets, ain’t that right, Ashy?”

“No! I shouldn’t depend on any boy!” Ashlee shakes her head.

“Who told you that?”

“Auntie Cassie.” She answers, “she told me I’m a strwong woman who don’t need no stupid boys!” Lexi gave a fond smile. She still can’t believe the progress Cassie has made, to the better, to the best. In a way she’s still the same, just accepted parts of herself that were pushed far back for stupid boys enjoyment.

“I ain’t no stupid boy, I’m your favorite uncle.”

“But you are a boy.”

“Fuckin’ Cassie.” Ash grits out.

“ASH!” Fez and Lexi yell.

“Just accept the L bro.” Rue smirks.

“Never.” Ash decides on, crossing his arms.

Just then the clock hits midnight and Ash and Rue scramble messily to retrieve their gifts from below the decorated tree, throwing them in-front of the three year old.

“Aight, stop.” Fez stops them from their little struggle of who gets their gift opened first. And settles Ashlee on his lap. “You choose which one you wanna open the first baby.”

Ash smirks smugly because Ashlee picked his box. Which was almost her size and wasn’t light either. Weirdly enough, it looked exactly like Rue’s own box. She tugs at the blue and pink wrapper with tiny hands, Fez offering some help, they finally get it open and lo and behold it’s a small three-wheel pink bike.

Fez starts sweating and Lexi glances at him, trying really hard not to laugh. This day was bound to happen anyway, might as well get it over with.

“A bike?!” Ashlee exclaims happily.

“Nah… nah..” Fez says in denial.

Lexi notices Rue is also sweating, her eyes gawky looking like she almost got hit by a bus. “Rue.. you okay?” Lexi asks, sniffling a giggle.

“Yeah..” rue trails. “Just uh- think we could just open my gift like tomorrow or something.”

“Who’s the coward now?!” Ash laughs.

“Rue it’s okay just open it.” Faye assures.

Then rue hesitatingly hands the box to Ashlee, who sits the bike aside and starts unwrapping the equally sized box.

Another three wheeled, but purple bike.

Ash isn’t laughing anymore. “What the fuck?”

Lexi laughs now, because she can’t hold it anymore, especially when she sees Fez’s eyes twitch slightly.

“Another bike!” Ashlee giggles. “If anything happens to this one I’ll have this one!” Fez groans.

“I’m still her favorite!”

“You don’t even have original ideas! You stole mine.”

“Did not!”

“Did to!”

“Okay you know what?” Lexi starts, “why don’t you just ask her?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think of that actually,” Ash and Rue nod. “Ashy, who’s your favorite? Be honest and don’t worry about hurting Aunt Rue’s feelings.”

“Or Uncle Ash’s.”

“You know what?-”

“Let her speak!”

A few seconds go by as everyone is waiting patiently (Minus Rue and Ash) for the long awaited answer.

“… Auntie Faye!”

“Awe!” Faye kissed her cheek from her place on the ground. “You’re my favorite too, kiddo.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Lexi drowns out the pickering and turns to whisper to her husband, “you’re not letting her on those bikes, are you?”

“Fuck no,” He whispers back, “far as I’m concerned, them nightmares goin’ straight into the shed first thing in the mornin’”

Lexi shook her head, giggling at her husband's weird antics.

Before bed they made hot cocoa and watched movies, Ash and Rue still not giving up on their banter for a good movie night, instead chaotic arguments that landed nowhere near useful. By 2 am when they went to bed, the swear jar had a total of 40 bucks.

Lexi still didn’t mind, she wouldn’t trade this for anything. The contentment of it all came from the shenanigans that filled their home with laughter and warmth.

If you ask Lexi what Christmas was now. She’d have sparkles and glitter in her eyes explaining the newly developed habits and her love for her family.

****

Thank you @fixation4fexi for the lovely idea!!! I hope this matches what you had in mind! <3

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stellar-imagines · 3 years

Text

SCENARIO REQUEST: ❝stubborn rashes.❞

[ Fandom: Diamond no Ace ] [ Characters: Miyuki Kazuya ]

「 Scenario of Miyuki comforting his S/O who has flare rashes.」

MIYUKI KAZUYA

It was the familiar crunch of sand that resounded throughout the field that drew your attention. You shifted your eyes towards the baseball field where the Seidou team was having their daily practice after classes. It was a routine for you to come after your classes and sit by the benches to watch the team play while reading your book. You weren't a part of the team but having a boyfriend there made you come here more often. There was something comforting about sitting by the benches and listening to the boys do their usual thing. The sounds of their bats swinging and the balls connecting with their mitts were just very nice to you. The usual spot was always open, almost everyone knew that it was your spot. The managers will come and join you just to accompany you while they do their work.

Miyuki Kazuya finds himself glancing at the bench occasionally. Whenever he finds the chance to catch his breath, he will definitely look at you and give you a small wave. He notices something different with your today. Being in different classes always meant that he never got to see you unless it was during lunch breaks or joined classes. Most of the time, you would come by and watch him practice. Afterward, Miyuki would walk you back home which was only 5 minutes away by foot. It was the jacket you had on that drew his attention. It was slightly windy here but it wasn't windy enough for you to put on a jacket to begin with.

"Why are you wearing a jacket, [First Name]-chan?" Haruno asked you while you flipped through the book you were reading.

"Oh, this? I just felt a bit chilly that's all." you replied with a smile.

Though of course, that was a lie. It was just recently that flare rashes begin to show up on your arm and just the sight of them makes you frown. Your parents told you that it was nothing you should worry about and that it was probably because of stress or allergies. At the moment, you didn't even care what the cause of it was, you just wanted it gone. And all you could do now was to hide them from view. The only way you thought of was to just put on a jacket to hide them from everyone. It did draw attention from your classmates since the weather didn't seem suitable. Not only did it drew attention, it just made you feel much more uncomfortable.

Miyuki approached you after the coach called it a day. Instead of going to the training ground to catch some balls for Sawamura and Furuya, he decided to come over to you. He gave you his signature smile, giving you a small peck on your check. The managers excused themselves and decided to give you two some privacy. You closed your book and rose from the bench, smiling back at your boyfriend. He took a seat next to you, using the towel around his neck to wipe off the sweat gathered on his forehead. He looked at you with a small frown but not one that expressed worry, one that expressed slight confusion.

"Are you sure that you wanna keep that jacket on, [First Name]?" Miyuki questioned you.

"Yeah, it's fine. It's starting to get a bit cold for me." you replied with a smile.

Miyuki eventually noticed that you began to wear a jacket more often, no matter how hot it was. After a hot day of practice, the catcher caught himself looking at you talking with the first-year players who came by to greet you. And you were there, dressed in the same way he saw you for the past 3 days. The school's signature tracksuit over the uniform you wore every day. The teachers had asked you the reason behind this but you simply mentioned that you were feeling a little bit cold. However, Miyuki didn't seem to be convinced that it was the case.

"Why don't you just take it off? I can see you sweating a bit you know." your boyfriend poked at your cheek and handed you a bottle of water.

"And you got a little something here." Miyuki pointed at a spot under your chin. You raised your hand to touch whatever he was pointing at, it surprised you that your rashes showed up on your face. Out of reflex, you pulled up the collar of your tracksuit in an attempt to hide your face.

"Come on, don't be so embarrassed. Show me." the brunette urged. You shook your head, refusing to do as he said.

"No, don't look at me, Kazuya." you whined, avoiding his eyes. He gently put his hand over yours, slowly removing them and noticing the flare rashes on your neck. Miyuki was a smart guy, it didn't take him long to realize what was up with you. Now that your secret was out, you decided to just let it go.

"Do these hurt?" Miyuki asks, gently tracing his finger on the red patches.

"They're just itchy but sometimes they hurt." you muttered.

Your boyfriend placed a few kisses on your face and around your neck. You let out a small giggle when his hair tickled your neck and chin. Miyuki smiled gently and helped you take off the jacket, only to reveal a few patches of red on your arm. He gave your arm the same treatment, peppering kisses all over the red patches. A gentle smile replaced your frown, you almost felt stupid for being so insecure of yourself. It was dumb of you to assume that Miyuki only liked you for your looks.

"Don't be insecure of them, baby. These will go away, I'm more concerned whether these things hurt or not." he spoke.

"I'm fine, Kazuya. It's just that they're so ugly you know." you rubbed at the rashes with a small pout.

"You have nothing to be insecure of. What do you say we go to the clinic tomorrow to get these treated? I remember that there's a small clinic near your house, I'll take you there after practice." Miyuki offered.

"Thank you, Kazuya. You're the best." you kissed his cheek.

"Though, it kind of reminds me of that one time my classmate dressed up as a zombie. He had patches all over his arms and legs―" you cut him off before he could finish his sentence, punching his arm. Miyuki let out a loud laugh when he saw that your face turned red as a result of his teasing.

"I'm just joking, [First Name]! You know I love you!" he followed you when you didn’t respond to him.

“Come on! I’ll give you all the cuddles and kisses you want!”

Total: 1133 words Published: 12.07.2021

Thank you for requesting! ｡٩(ˊᗜˋ)و*｡ We hope you liked it! ― author Lou

Thank you for requesting it! Hope you enjoyed this! ― author Natsuki

Requests are closed! Matchups are closed!

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

#stellar-imagines #miyuki x reader #kazuya x reader #miyuki kazuya #miyuki kazuya x reader #dna:miyuki kazuya #scenario #daiya no ace #daiya no ace imagines #daiya no ace headcanons #daiya no ace x reader #daiya no ace scenarios #diamond no ace imagines #diamond no ace x reader #diamond no ace #diamond no ace scenarios #reader insert #fanfic

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passivenovember · 3 years

Text

You Look Stupid When You’re Sad.

Steve Harrington smelled of sour patch kids and unbaked cookie dough.

Billy didn't think it was a bad smell, exactly, just weird; intense, heady, and stuck to the walls of his brain. Doughy when the sunlight couldn't dry the track marks of Steve's sweat before nap time, heady when it got into Billy's system and stuck with him like the thrum of his heartbeat.

Wherever Billy went Steve Harrington was there. Like a shadow. A noisy, scrawny, wire-frame glasses wearing shadow that elbowed its way into the chair across from Billy's during lunch and followed him around at recess; three feet behind and always pretending to spot interesting shapes in the clouds when he thought Billy wasn't looking, but.

Billy was always looking.

It was so weird.

Steve was so weird. The way he made bright, happy noises when he was paired with Billy for station time, how he always drug his mat over from the other side of the room to sleep next to Billy when it was time to zonk out after second recess despite knowing that the spot was saved for Barbara, Billy's actual best friend.

She got nightmares and Billy liked to be there to hold her hand while she dreamed but every afternoon, without fail, Steve came wondering over with his lip stuck out in a question.

It was confusing.

Steve was so confusing. The way he hugged his mat to his chest, chin quivering with a little, "Okay. Sorry, Bills." Every time Billy slapped his hand on the carpet and growled that the spot was taken. Occupation, not reserved for pasty-kneed dorks with wire frame glasses, and.

Billy didn't want to make the kid cry, or anything, but he always managed to do just that. Paint himself as a bad guy.

Billy rubbed his forehead as Barb settled in on his left hand side one afternoon after such an altercation, smiling so big her lips disappeared behind the plastic frames of her glasses.

"What's wrong, Stevie?" She asked, and.

Billy tried not to be jealous.

Steve hiccupped, cheeks growing redder by the second. "I wanna nap with you guys but Billy won't let me."

"Hey, that's not--"

"You can sleep with us if you want to. Billy has a really big blanket, maybe he can share with both of us." Barbara looked at him expectantly, like. "Right Billy?"

And it was dumb.

It was so dumb, that they were staring at him with hopeful eyes and Steve's chin was still quivering and Billy didn't want to be the bad guy; he wasn't Mesogog and he didn't want to hurt the kid's feelings, but.

Steve Harrington got under his skin. With his soft hair and big brown eyes, always following Billy around and begging for the space to be made. Billy got clumsy and nervous when Bambi was nearby, and.

The idea of sharing space. Sleeping next to Steve with his chirpy little noises and warm soft hands, it.

Made Billy feel like he was breaking out in itchy red bumps.

No.

He would stick to his guns; the blanket just wasn't big enough for three people. But then, Billy's grumpy brain supplied, Steve could steal Barbara and keep her as his own best friend if Billy didn't let him stay, so. It was time to cut his losses.

"God, you look stupid when you're sad." Billy muttered.

Steve started crying again.

Billy really wished he'd stop that.

"I'm sorry, Billy. I know I'm dumb but I don't mean to be." Steve whimpered. He tucked his mat under his arm and made to get up.

And leave.

As if Billy would let Steve make him look bad in front of everyone, especially Barbara.

"Lay down, dork." Billy grumbled, tugging the blanket up around his shoulders and peeling it back for Steve reluctantly.

Harrington's smile was so bright it could've melted crayons when he settled in close, chirping happily as Billy pulled the blanket around them and tucked in on impulse. The room went dark, Mr. Talamantez reminding them to count butterflies if sleep wouldn't come.

It didn't.

Steve smelled too much like cream and sugar for Billy to get any rest at all.

"Whatcha making, Billy?" Steve asked, pink tongue poking out in concentration as he peered over Billy's arm at his art project.

A stack of pink and red construction paper was Billy's favorite thing in the world because it meant endless possibilities. Pink was soft and sweet, red was passionate and cool. Like hot wheels and firetrucks and hearts full of warm oven mitts, so.

He pulled the leaflets from his backpack during circle time and got busy, carefully folding the delicate paper hamburger style and then tracing swirly, dramatic lines for each heart on the page.

Valentines was Billy's most favorite day of the year.

Even more than Christmas, even more than his birthday, and only a little bit more than Halloween because on Valentines? The whole universe was covered in flowers and little tin wrapped chocolates and love hearts were the best thing for a kid to make with scissors.

Billy ignored Steve's tongue, turning his shoulders to the room. "I'm making love hearts."

"For who?"

"None of your beeswax."

"Okay," Steve said happily, grabbing a handful of markers and re-situating himself much closer than Billy would've liked. Steve's Nike's tapped the itsy-bitsy-spider on the rug as he declared, "I'm drawing batman on a surfboard!"

And Billy tossed aside his first ruined Valentine. "Oh cool, I don't remember asking."

"That's okay," Steve giggled. "Sometimes I get motor mouth. My Daddy says it's 'cause I'm a fruit."

"My daddy called me that sometimes before he got sick." Billy turned to glare at him. "That's not a good thing."

"It is to me!" Steve giggled again. He was always doing that. "I like Kiwis. My mommy packed some for lunch and I had them for breakfast. They're yummy in geek yogurt. They make me smile because they have beards!"

Steve cackled like kiwi's having beards was the funniest thing on earth and Billy wondered what there was to be so happy about.

He tried not to smile at Steve's dumb face. "I think you mean Greek yogurt."

"Yeah, probably. If I'm like a kiwi, that's alright, I think." Steve's tongue poked out again. "Surfboards make me think of you." He declared, and.

Steve smelled like toasted chocolate on s'mores, his hands somehow kicking up more of his sugary sweet odor each time he reached for a new piece of paper. Billy didn't know how he was supposed to get anything done when his circle buddy smelled like a chocolate birthday cake.

It was kinda gross.

Billy pulled out a sliver marker and traced Stinky Butt Max on one of the smaller Valentines, remembering to fold down the corners so the sensitive skin on her palms wouldn't get hurt when she inevitably started smacking him it.

The pink Valentine looked more like a chewed up Starburst gummy this way, but. Max wouldn't know the difference.

Steve peered over his shoulder again, cooing softly. Like a baby dove. "That ones pretty, Bills! Is Max your Valentine?"

"Ew," Billy wrinkled his nose like he sometimes did when Max needed a diaper change. "She's my baby sister, don't be an Ick Monster."

"What's an Ick Monster?"

"Somebody who makes weird jokes and says weird things, so." Billy shrugged, scrawling his mothers name on a second love heart. He poked Steve's tummy with his marker. "That's you, I think."

Steve giggled before slapping Billy's hand away, and. Watching him work.

After a while Steve inched closer. "So you don't have a Valentine?" He wondered, and.

Billy didn't understand the question. "Mr. Talamantez said we're all each other's Valentines so nobody feels sad."

"Yeah, but. Everybody has someone they want to smooch on Valentines." Steve started playing with his hair, fingers twisting waves in a sea of brown, like they sometimes did when he was nervous. "Someone they like best-best. Better than all the other kids."

Now it was Billy's turn to giggle. "That's icky."

"Smooching?" Steve's eyes sparkled. "It's fun sometimes."

"Like you've ever kissed anyone."

Steve looked offended. "Have too."

"Have not."

"Have too," Steve pouted, crossing his arms.

Billy began work on a third Valentine. "Who did you kiss?"

"Nancy Wheeler."

Billy snorted, not sure if he wanted to imagine Steve kissing Nancy Wheeler, or. Kissing at all.

Steve's chin started quivering. "You don't believe me?"

"No." Billy said lightly, capping the marker with a sniff.

Kissing was not fun. It was wet and violent and looked like it maybe hurt a little bit, the way he'd seen his mom and Susan kiss when he got up to go potty at night. Billy regarded Steve through easy, narrowed eyes; Steve wasn't the kind of boy who kissed like that.

"How come you're so weird?" Billy wondered.

"I like being weird." Steve said, reaching for a green marker to color in his surfboard. Steve nodded at the small pile of Valentine's strewn on the carpet between them. "You should put the love hearts on foam when you're done."

"I was already gonna do that, genius."

Billy wasn't already going to do that, but he'd eat a centipede before he let Harrington know he came up with a good idea.

"They could be superhero colors!" Steve hollered suddenly. He was so loud all the time. "That way your mommy and sissy can know that you love them because they're cool. Like Aqua-man."

Billy frowned, watching Steve fold his Batman drawing over and over again until it all but disappeared from sight. He leaned back against the wall with an eye roll, shocked out how much Harrington lacked any concept of taste, or.

Shame.

"Aqua-man isn't cool," Billy said. Because Aqua-man wasn't, he was like. The lamest of them all. "His only power is making the bad guys drown, at least the other heroes can punch really hard."

"Punching isn't always the best, though." Steve tucked Batman into the front pocket of his shirt, leaning into Billy's space. "Sometimes punching just makes the bad guys stronger. Like Wilson Fisk."

Billy frowned. "Punching works for Spiderman."

Steve considered this fact, pink tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth again. He thought really hard for a long time, as if Steve didn't have Spiderman socks on everyday at recess when he removed his Nike's to fill them with rocks.

Such a weird guy.

Finally, Steve smiled. "I like water, though. Your eyes are like water. From the fountain in the hallway, and like the lake at camp." Steve pushed his way into Billy's space, frowning with his head cocked to the side like there was more thinking to cross of the list. "You're very pretty, Billy. Like a cloud."

And.

Billy didn't have the words to articulate the way Steve's smell went a little crazy after that, like a bag of powdered sugar had caught fire from a signal light once he realized what he'd said. Billy waited for Steve to take it back, because.

Boys calling other boys pretty wasn't allowed in Mr. Talamantez' classroom, or. Anywhere else.

Steve didn't take it back.

"You wouldn't like Aqua-Man's water, 'cause you'd drown." Billy said, getting back to work on his Valentines if only for a distraction from the way Steve was watching him. "He doesn't control his power very well and sometimes the mean guys get hurt real bad."

Steve kept right on talking. "I wouldn't be a mean guy though," He reasoned, sliding impossibly closer on the alphabet rug. "I'd help him fight crimes. Like Captain Underpants!"

And.

Billy had nothing to say to that, sucked in and drowning by the way Steve's eyes were glittering.

"You're a weird guy, you know?" Billy breathed.

Steve's giggle went right to Billy's tummy, teaching it to do backflips, somehow.

"That's okay." Steve said, reaching back for a fresh piece of paper. "You'll remember me better and maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine."

Steve's hair fell across his eyes, head bopping along to whatever song he was singing to himself today. His lips glittered like a frosted donut. Like he'd been eating a strawberry ice cream cone instead of confusing all the boys around him.

Maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine.

Huh.

Billy started work on a new love heart and pretended not to notice.

On Tuesday morning Billy woke to the smell of pancakes and fresh squeezed orange juice.

Maxine was already up.

Her long red hair was piled on top of her head in two Princess Leia buns. Susan had put in little heart clips and the pink dress Billy's mommy had made special was already covered in mashed banana and something that looked like magic marker.

She was all ready for Valentines day.

Billy didn't understand why they bothered trying to make her look dainty when Max was more interested in destroying Billy's favorite toys and starting fires.

She sat on the floor of the room they shared together, sucking her thumb and playing with Billy's favorite race car. Her wet, chubby fingers made the blue Camaro shine brightly with spit and Billy felt like his face was burning up.

"Hey," He said, rubbing at his eyes. "Hey, you're getting spit all over my--"

"Race car!"

Max held it out to him triumphantly. Billy frowned, moving to grab it from her chubby little fist. "I know that's my race--"

"It's a blue car," Max said thoughtfully. She looked at him, like, "Blue cars are my favorite."

"It's my favorite too--"

"Can we share?" Max wondered, putting the little wheels on Billy's knee and letting the car zoom back and forth. He imagined that Evel Knievel was in the drivers seat wondering why his car wasn't first in the race.

She looked happy, like always, to be playing with Billy's toys.

He sighed. "Yeah, I guess we can share. It's Valentine's Day."

Max seemed to enjoy that. "I like today!"

"You do?"

"Yup," She said happily, little chubby fingers tangling in Billy's hair because he hadn't brushed it yet. "Candy and sour gummy worms and kisses from cute boys!"

Billy glared. "You're kissing cute boys?"

"Uh-huh!" Max hollered. "Lucas gave me a dandelion."

Billy thought long and hard.

About Valentines Day and all the things that came with it. The pink shirt that hung pressed in his closet, fresh cupcakes with plastic rings, a bag of Scooby-doo Valentines Susan had picked up at the market for all his classmates, homemade love hearts at the bottom of his backpack. Three with red foam, one with a delicate lace doily, and.

Kisses.

Max was getting flowers and kisses from a boy.

From someone special.

Billy took the race car from Max's hand and drove it around, thinking about boys with brown eyes and soft hands.

Maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine.

"Wanna eat some breakfast, Max?"

"I had 'nanas." She said with a smirk.

Billy hummed, standing to get dressed. "Mama probably made chocolate chip pancakes, you don't wanna eat something special?"

Max's little red eyebrows pinched together. "I can have yours?"

And.

Billy didn't know what was so necessary to her about taking everything that was his. Playing with his toys, sleeping in his pj's, eating his breakfast, it was like Max didn't know how take something and make it her own.

Billy pulled the pink shirt over his head, feeling every bit like a turtle when Max did the same with the collar of her dress.

"You can have my pancakes." Billy concluded, puffing out his chest. "If you'll be my Valentine."

"You don't have a boy to kiss?"

"I might," Billy picked the race car off the ground with a smile. "This is practice for when I see him at school. So, will you be my Valentine?"

She thought about it.

Long and hard, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, before nodding with her entire body. "I think he will."

Billy sighed. "Really?"

"If you give him sour gummy worms and smooch his forehead he will," Max said.

And.

Maybe things would turn out okay. Billy nodded, grabbing the race car and driving it across Max's forehead, careful that the little plastic wheels didn't get stuck in her hair.

From the stucco ceiling of the classroom beautiful strands of silver and gold hearts painted a mirage of stars.

All the desks had a rose and a cardboard mailbox intended for the delivery of Valentines and at the center of the room a table filled with cupcakes and strawberry Capri-sun packets. Preparation for the party this afternoon, and.

Mr. Talamantez had turned their space into a glittering, perfect fairytale.

Billy hugged his basket of Valentines close to his chest and tried not to search for Steve before dropping his backpack at the cubby station.

He was right in the middle of tugging his special sweater down over his head when Barbara scooted in next to him, pretty in a little pink jumpsuit.

She handed him a tiny, delicate giftbag full of chocolate hearts and dinosaur erasers, smiling from ear to ear as Billy hugged her nice and tight before handing off something he had made special. A tiny paper crane his mommy helped him fold, and a bunch of rainbow goldfish sat nestled in a basket of paper Mache.

They were her favorite snack in the whole world and Barbara was Billy's favorite person, so it seemed fitting.

She hugged him and Billy smiled, peering around the room for a head of wavy brown hair. "We could share our presents with Steve," He muttered, like. It wasn't a big deal or anything. Billy tugged on the sleeves of his red sweater and tried to stay cool. "Where is he?"

Barbara pointed to the book shelves.

Steve was sat under a string of twinkly lights, shoulders tucked against the pillows Mr. Talamantez set aside for circle time. His face was buried in the crook of his elbow, and.

He was crying.

Of course he was crying.

Billy felt the Valentine in his pocket grow heavy.

Barbara said, "Steve broke his glasses, maybe you could make him smile?"

And.

Billy wanted to do that. Longed to make Steve giggle and chirp with happiness like the annoying little Meadowlark he seemed be. It would be so easy to. Walk over there, tap Steve's shoulder, and say the words.

Pose the question.

Will you be my Valentine?

Steve was making huffy, nervous little noises when Billy came to a stop beside him.

"Hey Harrington, playing with all your friends?" Billy sneered, confident that Steve would giggle like he was did, but.

When he finally turned around his face was red and puffy. As if he'd been crying all morning and all night, too.

"What do you want, Billy?" Steve whispered.

He sounded sleepy. Spread thin, like the last spoonful of jam on burned toast.

"What's wrong?" Billy asked carefully. "What happened?"

Steve sat and rubbed at his eyes, chin wobbling as more tears spilled over. "My daddy broke my glasses." He whispered.

And Billy hated it.

He always hated when Steve cried but today. Right now, he.

Felt like he had to do something about it.

Billy took the love heart from his pocket and sat down next to Steve, cuddling back into the pillows until their shoulders were touching. It took all of five seconds for Steve to settle in next to him. Roll his head back against the wall until he was looking at Billy with a question in his eyes.

Steve looked at Billy's shoulder and back up at his face, like.

"Can I--"

"Come here, stupid." Billy grumbled, Pulling Steve in until they were cuddling on the pillows.

Steve chirped. It wasn't his usual sound, light and airy, it was.

Thick.

And heavy.

Like a blanket sopped with rain water. Steve buried his face in Billy's neck. "I don't have any Valentines to give this year."

"That's okay."

"I made something special for you," Steve whispered, pulling back to study Billy's face. "I know Mr. Talamantez said we weren't supposed to, but--"

"Will you be my Valentine?" Billy's stupid mouth said.

Steve blinked at him, and.

Billy wanted to hide in the bathroom for thousand years.

Steve pulled away to sit crisscross-applesauce. Facing Billy, like this was something important. "Huh?"

Billy mirrored him, tucking his hands away so they wouldn't shake when he held out the love heart.

It was pink. Big and bright and outlined with a white doily that Susan helped him glue around the edges. Billy had dug through Max's box of stickers for the one with Winne the Pooh, the one he'd been saving for someone special. Winnie was covered in tiny valentines, eating right out of a jar of honey with a butterfly sitting on his nose, and.

Billy had thought it was perfect.

He worked for hours on the font. The saying that made his mommy laugh when he read it to her; you're bear-y sweet. Be my Valentine.

Steve took the love heart in his hands, and.

Didn't say anything.

Billy frowned. "I just. Remember you asked me to be your Valentine, or. For you to be mine. And--" His hands were shaking again. "It's stupid. God, this is--"

Steve leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

It was gentle. Like the brush of butterfly wings, barely there and then gone before Billy had a chance to really register the movement, or. Think about what it could mean.

Steve wasn't crying anymore when he said, "I'll be your Valentine."

Billy's brain took a minute to catch up. "Huh?"

"I'll be your Valentine, Billy." Steve giggled, staring down at the love heart once more. "This is so cute. I loved Winnie the Pooh when I was a baby. My mom always put me in footie pajamas that had Eeyore on them. And tinker bell too, sometimes. You could've put the Red power ranger on there instead. He's my favorite--"

Billy sat back against the pillows.

He was learning that Steve Harrington was weird.

Like a puzzle with one piece missing, or. An empty tube of bubble mix. Steve was colorful and loud and all over the place with opinions. He shined bright and loved hard, and.

Sometimes it was best to sit back and listen.

Happy Valentines Day!!

I really just sat down and wrote this. Wow. Anyway--thank you for reading and supporting my work. Your comments and endless kindness keep me going when I don't always feel like trucking on, and I wanted to do something to remind you that if this was an elementary school classroom I would give you so many lollipops.

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #valentines day #first kiss #kidfic #soft billy hargrove #I know I'm late #but I love ya #and I will everyday #so really #everyday is valentines #not to be a fucking sap #but it;s true

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spaceskam · 3 years

Text

Pretty Little Picture (3/3)

okay so TECHNICALLY this was for day 3 of @malex-cupid but then ice robbed me of my wifi for like two days. So here is now. Whoops. (thanks for reading!)

warning for mild sexual content which i forgot to say at the beginning of the last chapter my b

ao3

Alex woke up to a heavyweight on his spine.

It took him a few moments to register it and he had to crane his neck a bit, but, sure enough, Michael was passed out against his back. His cheek was smushed against it and he was definitely drooling a little bit, but Alex didn’t mind. With a sigh, he let his head fall back against the pillow.

His eyes closed as he thought about the night before. About kissing and touching every inch of him that he could. Neither of them really anticipated that, so they didn’t have lube to do anything too strenuous, but they definitely managed to have fun regardless. Maybe it was too early, but he didn’t regret it. It felt good and they worked weirdly well together.

However, the peace of it all only lasted a few minutes before Michael’s alarm started to go off.

“Why does the world hate me?” Michael whined, slowly peeling himself off of Alex to go turn it off. In that time, Alex flipped onto his back. It didn’t stop Michael from falling right back down onto his chest. “You don’t have any chest hair.”

“Good morning to you too, I guess,” Alex laughed, raking his hands through Michael’s fucked up hair. They needed a shower. They were going to take one the night before, but they very quickly got distracted. “I shave it or get it waxed, it gets itchy.”

“Really?” Michael said, scratching his chest gently, “Mine doesn’t.”

“I think it really only starts getting itchy once you’ve started shaving it. Like Liz says she doesn’t get how Max has such hairy legs without it being itchy because hers get that way if she tries to go more than a week,” Alex explained, yawning halfway through. Michael hummed thoughtfully and then turned to prop his chin upon his chest.

“Sounds plausible,” Michael decided. Alex hummed softly, letting his eyes slip closed out of pure selfish reasons. He was warm and comfortable and he didn’t want to get up. “We can stay in bed a little later if you want. Brunch instead of breakfast, remember.”

“How long until then? ‘Cause we both need showers,” Alex pointed out. Michael shifted, moving up a bit more until Alex sensed him just hovering above. He opened his eyes slowly to look at him.

“Two hours,” Michael said softly, eyes drifting across his face, “But we could take one together. Save water and time.”

Alex huffed a laugh, rubbing his hand up and down his arm before leading it up to his neck.

“Genius.”

“Yeah.”

Michael moved down, kissing him much slower than he had the night before. He let the rest of his body press up against Alex which made it very clear he hadn’t bothered to put any clothes on. Alex had at least remembered boxers.

“You’re so warm,” Alex said fondly, his hand gliding over his broad shoulders and the dip of his back.

Michael smiled softly, his nose nudging against Alex’s before his tongue made its way into his mouth without hesitation. Alex tugged him closer and kissed him deeper, not quite ready to let him go. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready to let him go.

Alex wasn't sure how long they laid there just kissing as if they did this all the time. Maybe they could make it a new habit because it was just... nice. Nice to wake up and have him there and have full reign.

Michael was his roommate. They'd lived together for three years. How the hell hadn't this occurred to him before? And this... this wasn't even a stupid crush that he had because Michael was doting on him. He liked him. He *wanted this.

However, Alex managed to keep his expectations low despite his desires being high. They fell into bed the night before under the understanding that this was just a one-time thing, friends helping friends, they were already pretending to date and so why not? That was the precedent. Alex couldn't and wouldn't expect more.

"Do you know what today is?" Michael asked as he broke the kiss and slowly started leaving soft pecks down his neck. Alex snorted.

"Don't be cheesy."

"It's Valentine's day," he said anyway, "I didn't get you anything."

"I didn't expect you to get me anything."

"Well, that makes me a bad boyfriend," Michael hummed, lifting himself up just enough to look at him in the eye, "So what do you want?"

"You really don’t wanna ask me that,” Alex whispered, eyes training on his mouth. He put his hand on Michael’s cheek and let his thumb graze his bottom lip. Michael took a shaky breath.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Alex said as he took a deep breath and watched Michael follow his thumb with his tongue, “Might make you fall in love with me.”

Michael huffed a laugh, smiling wider by the second. Alex liked the way it felt. He liked how all of this felt.

“Alex,” he said, shaking his head a bit. Alex raised an eyebrow but didn’t get to say anything before Michael started gravitating down. “Alex. Tell me what you want.”

Alex replaced his thumb with his lips, breathing him in. He arched his back into him and reveled in the feeling of skin on skin. How had he not wanted this before the weekend?

Simple, he realized after a few seconds of thought, he had wanted it before. He just didn’t notice that it was an option. And, it wasn’t. Not really. This was temporary. But, God, it felt good.

“This. I just want this,” Alex said, voice barely a whisper and somehow still a beg.

Michael, ever the obedient caretaker, slipped his hand behind his back while the other went to his knee and hiked his leg up onto his hip. Alex’s hand slipped into his hair and kissed him deeper. He swallowed every noise he made.

Alex had known he was gay for as long as he could remember. He’d hooked up with boys from all walks of life since he moved for college: pretentious young artists, bratty trust-fund babies, a couple of football players who weren’t out yet, and a rich 50-year-old who very clearly had a lot of experience. None of it held a candle to this, to Michael kissing him and grinding against him and choosing this over spending time making good impressions.

That almost made it more surreal, that he was choosing this. He could’ve woken up awkward, could’ve blamed it on the wine, but he instead kissed and touched Alex more. It felt like he was being lit on fire from the inside in the best way.

Michael moved his hand between them, palming Alex over his boxers with no shame.

“I can’t believe we, two adult queer men, didn’t fucking bring lube or more than the one condom you had stuffed in your duffle bag,” Alex groaned, feeling a bit lightheaded as Michael didn’t stop. He just laughed softly, rocking against him.

“It’d been a little presumptuous if we had, don’t you think?” Michael asked. Alex genuinely, from the bottom of his heart, didn’t give a fuck about being presumptuous anymore. “I mean, if you wanna try, we can‒”

“Nope.”

Michael laughed, “You didn’t even hear what I was gonna say!”

“I know you. Spit only works if you want it to hurt,” Alex said. Michael huffed a laugh, tongue flicking across Alex’s lips because that’s apparently something he thought was a calm and collected thing to do.

“Fair enough. But if you wanna‒”

“No, nope,” Alex laughed, slapping his hand over his mouth. Michael beamed at him. “I’m not so impatient that I’ll risk a trip to the hospital. And we still don’t have a condom, so I can wait.”

Michael twisted his head until Alex moved it off his mouth, favored the feeling of raking it through his hair. His face went all soft in response like a cat that sincerely wanted to be pet. Alex scratched his scalp for extra measure.

“Fine,” Michael hummed, “We can wait.”

And Alex was quite sure he was going to fucking explode at this point. Waiting implied it was going to happen again and not when they were in this little bubble where they were boyfriends, but when they got home and were back to normal.

“Let’s go take a shower,” Alex said softly, needing to stay busy before he got his hopes up too high.

Michael nodded and got up slowly, leaving him with a few more kisses before he climbed out of bed. He stretched up and Alex took in the shape of him. His muscular back, his long torso, his tan skin, his nice ass.

He was so completely and utterly fucked.

“Okay, wait, how do you do this?”

“It’s not hard.”

“Clearly it is because I have no idea how you make it look good.”

Alex was grinning so wide it hurt as he watched Michael through the mirror. Michael had taken ahold of the blow dryer in the middle of Alex drying his hair and did it for him, combing through it and everything. When it got the pair Alex usually just pulled it back into a little ponytail and ruffled what didn’t fit, Michael got that intense look on his face and his tongue stuck out of his mouth as he tried to figure it out. Alex was giddy as he tied it back, decided it looked wrong, and took it down over and over.

“My hair is short, it’s not going to be perfect,” Alex said. When he’d gotten it cut the last time, they’d cut it to be chin-length (three inches shorter than requested) and he was still dealing with the consequences of not just driving down to Roswell to have Maria do it. “Just take your thumbs, try to get an even amount from both sides, and tie up the top half.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing.”

“And it’s looked fine. I’m gonna have to wash my hair all over again if you don’t stop soon,” Alex teased. Michael scrunched up his nose irritably and rolled his eyes. He took a deep breath and tried one more time. It looked nearly identical. “See? It looks fine.”

“How do you make yourself look so good? I’d be jealous if I didn’t get the benefit of looking at you every day,” Michael said. Alex rolled his eyes, but couldn’t deny the warm feeling that rushed through his system.

“Luck.”

“Mm, I believe it,” Michael hummed, moving some of Alex’s hair out of the way to leave a kiss on his neck. Soft and sweet and definitely not long enough. “Okay, okay, get away from me or I’m going to drag you back to bed.”

“See, that’s not going to convince me to get away from you.”

“No lube, no condom,” Michael recited, like a mantra that was more for himself than Alex as he took a backward step towards his bag. It reminded him that he was still in just a towel.

“Are you so boring that you can’t think of anything to do with those limitations?” Alex asked. Michael swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and turned around.

“It’s on days like these I ask myself, ‘Self, why have you let yourself be drawn in by lust and temptation? Is it not enough to admire from afar?’” Michael spoke wistfully as he dug through his bag. Childish giggles slipped through Alex’s mouth. “No, apparently, it’s not. I’ve been a respectful roommate and upstanding member of society, keeping my thoughts to myself for years and then I get one taste and I’m nothing but a useless sack of needing-to-pleasure-Alex cells. That’s it.”

“Years, huh?” Alex asked. Michael froze for a moment before he shook it off and pulled out a pair of chinos and a collared shirt.

“No. I don’t know, maybe. Yeah. I don’t know,” Michael mumbled, dropping his towel. Alex bit down on his bottom lip and took a very careful breath, trying not to do something embarrassing like twirl around the room and sing I Feel Pretty at the top of his lungs.

Definitely feeling pretty and witty and gay at moment.

Instead of focusing on that‒because, wow, that’s a lot to focus on‒Alex took out his eyeliner and drew his wings a bit more bold than he had been the last two days. Riding on that high, he even flipped his septum down. If Michael thought it’d be a problem, he’d tell him before they got downstairs. Hopefully. One of Michael’s female coworkers had multi-colored hair so it should be fine.

He took a step back and looked over himself. Black checkered pants, a loose black button-up that was half tucked in and half out, his hair a Michael special. He looked good. He felt better.

By the time he picked up his phone, he realized he hadn’t actually texted Liz since The Before and she was probably freaking out. As told by her series of messages.

Liz: HELLO ALEX HE DID W H A T?

Liz: Do I need to get Isobel on his ass?

Liz: Are you okay? It’s been a couple hours

Liz: Text me when you can and let me know if I need to come rescue you in the middle of the night

Liz: It’s the middle of the night, I’m going to bed, so I hope you don’t need saving.

Liz: However, if you don’t text me by tomorrow, I will assume you have been murdered and I will be filing a police report.

Liz: It’s currently 7:30 AM. You have until 10 before I assume the worst.

Alex: jesus liz

Liz: OH NOW HE ANSWERS

Alex: I am in fact alive

Liz: What happened last night??? You went MIA

Alex: ……….

Liz: NO YOU DID NOT

Alex: Listen. He’s really good at giving head.

Liz: I could’ve gone my whole life without knowing that but OH MY GOD

Liz: WHAT HAPPENED TO SELF CONTROL

Alex: Went out the door along with my dignity apparently

Liz: For real tho are you okay? That probably wasn’t great for your crush

Alex: I think it’ll be okay. I’m not keeping my hopes up or anything and I’m gonna have a real conversation with him once we leave, but for right now I’m content with him kissing me constantly

Liz: Oh shit it’s still going on?

Alex: It is still going on 😌

Alex: Remind me next time I go on a random trip with someone that even if I don’t expect to get laid I should bring condoms

Liz: omg Alex did you pay attention to sex ed at all

Alex: literally no I did not, half of it was no use to me

Liz: sigh. What am I going to do with you

“Alright, let’s go get brunch. Don’t let me have mimosas because if I drink at all, I can’t promise I won’t get myself fired,” Michael said. Alex slipped his phone into his back pocket to look at him, a grin easily finding his face.

“Aw, you look like such a little frat boy.”

“I am in a fraternity.”

“We don’t talk about that, it’s bad for my health,” Alex said, tilting his head back as Michael moved in and grabbed his hips. One hand moved up to his chin, holding him in place as he kissed him. “Can I have mimosas, though? I promise not to get messy.”

“You can have literally whatever you want,” Michael murmured against his mouth, leaving him one more kiss before he pulled away. “Let’s go.”

Somehow, going downstairs and parading in front of everyone as a couple didn’t feel any different than it had the first two days. They made small talk and ate good food and Alex drank two mimosas alongside Michael’s coffee.

“I can’t get over how cute you two are,” Alisha said, somehow having found her way to them again. Alex gave a warm smile despite wanting to slip and hide beneath the table at the sight of her. In her defense, so did the sight of everyone else. “You’re literally, like, glowing.”

“Well, what can I say? He just does something to me,” Michael said wistfully, giving Alex a face that said he was teasing. Alex held back a smile.

“It’s like you’re still in the honeymoon phase!” Alisha said. Alex almost laughed out loud that that. They kind of were in the honeymoon phase. It would just be drastically shorter than everyone else’s because it would end by the time they got home tonight.

That alone was almost laughably horrible.

“It’s easy when he’s got a face like that,” Michael cooed, reaching out to pinch his cheek. Alex laughed and leaned away only to be tugged back closer.

It was going to be weird when Michael wasn’t attached to his side anymore.

After brunch, they were supposed to have a nature walk again, but before Michael and Alex could go on their way, Jeannie and Curtis called them back. A few other interns turned and looked, but they went on their merry way until it was basically just the four of them.

“Come walk with us for a bit, I wanted to show you two my favorite place,” Jeannie said, a big smile on her face. Alex locked eyes with Michael for a moment and then they began to follow.

“You know, Michael, I was going through all the supervisor notes that Khalil has for your group. You’re a standout. Very focused and hardworking, but I see it’s probably helpful that you have a strong support system,” Curtis pointed out as they walked. The two of them were much more appropriately dressed for a nature walk than Michael and Alex, but, in their defense, they just planned to go to the creek again.

“Thank you, Sir,” Alex said before Michael had the chance to, “He deserves it.”

“I think so too,” Curtis said, warm and fatherly and Michael found Alex’s hand and squeezed, “You make a good team. I’ve watched how you know when to let the other do the talking when they’ll be better equipped. That’s very important if you want to climb ranks.”

Alex raised a suggestive eyebrow at Michael who just held onto him tighter. He rubbed the back of his hand with his thumb in hopes it’d help him calm down.

“Alex, when are you set to graduate?”

“This fall, if all goes well. Taking a couple of summer classes to help get there,” Alex said. Curtis nodded and looked over at Michael.

“And you’re set to graduate this semester,” he said‒not a question. Michael nodded evenly, eyes flitting to Alex as if looking for permission. Alex nodded back. “What’s the plan for after college?”

“Well, I already take piano gigs for some of the local schools’ choirs and give a few piano lessons to a few young kids, hoping to expand though. My kind of thing can pretty much go anywhere,” Alex said, knowing it sounded good. No big, painful uproot if he needed Michael in a different branch somewhere across the US. You know‒because to him they were together. Long term.

“And I’m just hoping to keep working for Disionic in any way I can,” Michael said. Alex squeezed his hand in approval.

“For how long, do you think?” Jeannie asked. Michael’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked over at Alex. He mouthed a ‘forever’ at him, watched him gulp, and smiled encouragingly. It was a big and false commitment. Big companies really liked it when they feel you’ve signed your life away to them.

“For as long as I can.”

“And you’d be willing to go to other branches if we needed you? We’ve got a branch in New York and Houston, but we plan to open another at some point in the next five years. And hopefully expanding in some other, more inventive work. Would you be interested in that, Michael?” Jeannie said.

Alex had always been aware that, when it came to things like this, there was an important balance between partners. Curtis wasn’t wrong in saying that a nice balance, knowing who needs to speak when, was important and helpful. Alex had been under the impression that while Jeannie was the warm one who was probably a fantastic hostess and enjoyed it, Curtis was the strong businessman who really only focused on the business part of things. Now, Alex quickly caught up to the realization that, while that may be true, Jeannie called the shots.

For a stupid second, Alex pictured him and Michael like that in a few years.

Funny how he spent his whole life wanting to get away from that environment and 1.5 hookups later, he was ready to sign up for a lifetime of being a good hostess.

“Absolutely, Mrs. Iverson. I-I’m obviously still learning how everything like this works, but I’m a fast learner,” Michael insisted. Jeannie laughed.

“I hope to watch you do that over the next couple of years,” Jeannie said, “Right, Curtis?”

“Nothing’s official yet,” he said, looking over at Michael with a fond smile, “But I do think there’s a more permanent spot for you in our business.”

Again with the squeezing Alex’s hand so hard it nearly hurt.

“After you graduate, of course,” Jeannie tacked on.

“After you graduate.”

“Thank you so much,” Michael said, trying to keep his excitement to the bare minimum.

Alex thought it was adorable though he didn’t know why he was so surprised. Michael had regularly gained favoritism from many, many people throughout his life. Teachers, bosses, baristas, the bus driver that would literally wait for him if he was running a few minutes late. Michael was an easy face to love and he worked hard and he was endlessly kind.

And each moment that passed Alex wondered how he’d been so blind to his own favoritism.

“Oh, and here’s what I wanted to show you,” Jeannie said as they started moving uphill a bit.

They stopped as they got to the edge, a cliff that overlooked a decent-sized body of water. It must’ve been where the little creek they’d sat by yesterday led to. There was a metaphor in there somewhere.

“This is where my Curtis brought me nearly 25 years ago now where he told me everything he wanted to do in the future and asked me to be a part of it,” Jeannie said, looking up at Curtis with a nearly disgustingly fond look. Alex wanted that. “I think it’s a good place to talk.”

“And, speaking of, Alvaro is calling,” Curtis said as his phone started ringing. He gave a polite nod and turned, immediately answering the call in Spanish. Alex was actually pretty impressed with his accent.

“Right, well, let me go make sure he places nice. You two have fun and make sure you come to sit by us at lunch, alright?” Jeannie said, waving goodbye as she followed her husband down the slope.

Michael and Alex didn’t speak as they waited impatiently for them to get out of sight and, hopefully, out of earshot.

“Alex,” Michael whispered, “Alex, I think I’m going to throw up.”

“What, why? Are you okay?” Alex asked, letting go of his hand to rub his back. Michael’s face, finally free of schooling himself for Jeannie and Curtis, was full of pure shock and disbelief. “Hey, this is a good thing.”

“I know it’s a good thing, it-it just feels really real all of the sudden. Like. Really real. Like, I don’t get it levels of real. I’m not supposed to have this,” Michael whispered, shaking his head as he looked out to the water. Alex took a step closer.

“What are you talking about? You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met and you’ve worked your ass off. You deserve this more than anyone,” Alex insisted. Michael shook his head.

“I’m supposed to still be barely scraping by in Roswell. I’m-I’m never supposed to get out. I’m supposed to become another statistic,” Michael said, looking over at Alex with furrowed eyebrows, “I’m only here because you gave me a place to live.”

“Shut up, I didn’t do anything. You would’ve found a way and you would’ve been right here with or without me giving you a place to live,” Alex insisted, “That was purely selfish reasons, too, I didn’t wanna live alone.”

“But Curtis was right. I-I get by because, like, a support system. I get by ‘cause of you,” Michael said. Alex again rolled his eyes.

“You’re giving me way too much credit here. You’ve got Isobel and Max and a whole group of friends. And back in Roswell you’ve got Sanders and Mimi and Arturo who would’ve done anything to see you thrive. And that’s not even counting the tons of people who gave you opportunities. Look, you’re definitely lucky and you could’ve very easily ended up stuck in Roswell without a little of that luck, but you’re also hardworking and smart. Playing the system is a part of this life we’ve been dealt, okay? And you’re playing it well,” Alex explained. Michael took a deep breath.

“You play it better,” he whispered.

“Will you stop making this about me?” Alex laughed, putting his hand on his cheek, “You’ve done great this entire weekend and clearly well enough for the last few months if Khalil talked you up that much.”

Michael stared at him for a long few seconds, silence. He looked tired and overwhelmed in a way he hadn’t this morning like everything had suddenly just hit him. Alex tried not to get worried about what else might’ve just hit him. He leaned forward despite himself and kissed his cheek slowly before pulling back, smiling in the most encouraging way possible.

“What if I don’t want to do it without you?” Michael asked.

Alex blinked once, twice, three times as he processed his words. He didn’t move away.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we make a good team. And… And I like having this with you. I like doing this. I’m comfortable with you and I trust you and I’m not nervous,” Michael said, huffing a soft laugh as he looked away for a moment before looking back, “Everything else is new and scary and way out of my depth and, like, technically you are too, but you don’t feel like it. You feel safe. And I wanna do this with you. Charm the pants off of rich people and then have sex in rooms they pay for. Or in our own bed or whatever. You get the point.”

“Yeah,” Alex whispered, taking a shaky breath and he really thought about just stripping and jumping into the water below. He probably would’ve if he knew it was deep enough. “I think I get it.”

“I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” Michael said, then quickly looked at him with wide eyes, “That’s definitely not me saying our first ‘I love you’, I’m just, like, saying.” Alex laughed, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he nodded. “Thing is, I didn’t realize we’d be a good fit. Or that we’d be too risky and it’d be messy if we broke up. Now… Now I feel stupid for not noticing it before. You literally feel perfect to me, for me. That’s dumb. This is embarrassing. I just wanna kiss you and pretend I’m Robin Hood and do scandalous things like feel you up beneath the table while my boss sits across from us for, like, the rest of my life or whatever.”

“Michael,” Alex laughed, putting his other hand on his other cheek and just holding him in place, “Want me to say something even more embarrassing?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, eyes shining a bit more. He still looked overwhelmed, but it was a bit better.

Alex took a deep breath and looked as serious as he could muster, looking into his eyes.

“Will you be my Valentine?” Alex asked. Michael’s face scrunched up and he laughed, grabbing Alex’s hips and tugging him closer.

“That was disgusting, boyfriend,” Michael said as they stood nose to nose. Alex was giddy with it. He didn’t have to get his hopes up when Michael was already there to meet them.

And maybe Alex had a shot at a future full of it.

“C’mere, boyfriend.”

Alex: something may or may not have transpired

Liz: Oh???

Alex: so, like, that little crush? Very big. Very reciprocated.

Liz: OMG. KNEW IT.

Alex: no you did not

Liz: Michael has literally been giving you heart eyes since before he knew he was queer. I so knew it. Isobel called it first tho

Alex: and you said NOTHING to me???

Liz: As if you’d believe me

Liz: Besides I didn’t know if he knew yet or if he was actually willing to pursue so I wasn’t gonna make it worse

Alex: so rude

Alex: I’m gonna go make out with my boyfriend now and fantasize about being his housewife

Liz: LMAO you could never be a housewife

Alex: no I’d hate it but that’s why it’s staying a fantasy

Liz: HAVE FUN

Alex: absolutely will

#malexcupid21 #malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #verse: pretty little picture

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elareine · 3 years

Note

Babe! So Prompts? As always Roydick (romantic, brotp, platonic —whatever you’re comfortable with) if I remember correctly you wrote me a little something for Roy's bday and it is still one of my favourites!!! Anyways— Roydick+Lian picture with Santa Claus!!!

Hey love, hope you’re ready for some fluff!

Dick drew the line at climbing in through the chimney. He wasn’t fucking Spiderman, no matter how many jokes Roy made about circus kids. Also, modern chimneys weren’t made for that. He would get stuck and die, and then his entire family would laugh at him in hell. So he entered the Harpers’ living room through the window like a normal person.

There was a plate of cookies and a glass of mild awaiting him. Dick took care to slide the wrapped parcel he’d brought with him under the tree first, then he advanced on to the food.

Oooh, chocolate-raspberry cookies. His favorite.

Sadly, he didn’t get to enjoy them. As soon as Dick lifted one of the treats, the ground was torn from under his feet. Before he knew it, he was dangling from the ceiling, held up only by a rope around his feet. He just about managed to suppress a curse.

It was all so totally worth it for the delight on Lian’s face when she saw him. “Ha!” she yelled.

Dick chuckled nervously, doing his best to keep his voice low and rough. “Oh, no-ho-ho. You caught me.”

“What’s that, cupcake?” Roy appeared, looking appropriately sleep-tousled in pajama pants and a tank top. Dick could feel himself reflexively start to smile and violently shoved it down.

“I caught Santa!” Lian told her father gleefully.

“So I see,” Roy smiled. When Lian turned around, he gave Dick a discreet thumbs-up, presumably at the effectiveness of his disguise. Good. That beard was itchy as fuck.

Lian stepped closer and lifted a finger. Dick did his best to look worried, with just a touch of amusement because he was Santa, so he probably didn’t get to feel afraid, right?

“Now,” she said, “there’s something that I want from you. And you better do it, because if you don’t, I’ll leave you hanging here.”

“Lian,” Roy warned. “What did we say about torture?”

Lian frowned at him, then turned to Dick. “Promise you’ll take a picture with me first.”

Dick pretended to consider the offer. “Only if I can have one of these delicious cookies.”

“Deal!” Lian said immediately. After cutting Dick loose, she barely gave him any time to orientate himself before dragging him over to stand by her dad’s side. “Selfie!”

A picture with Santa Claus—mostly for bragging rights, Dick assumed, though Roy hadn’t said so when he asked Dick to fill in for the role.

“Alright,” Roy laughed, holding out his phone. “Everyone, smile!”

As Dick did, he wondered what Lian would see when she looked back at this picture in ten years. Would she recognize him then, even with the cheek paddings and the wig and the beard? Would she see how much her father had loved her, that he was willing to ask his best friend to help out like this?

(Would Dick even be in their life, then? But that was too depressing a question to ask on a night like this.)

Or would she simply think of it as a small miracle, inexplainable but joyful?

Dick loved that possibility, too. In his opinion, children should grasp every bit of magic they could and hold on tight.

“Okay, cookie time!” Lian grabbed the plate and held it out to Dick, who took one and bit into it.

“Those are very good,” he praised, knowing fully well she and Roy had spent the afternoon baking them. The kitchen probably looked like a disaster. (Or maybe not. Roy had become much better at these things over the last years of being a single father.)

“You can have the milk, too,” she allowed him generously.

While Dick inwardly groaned—lukewarm milk, how tasty—he drank all of it.

Roy watched, amused. “Maybe another cookie?” To wash away the taste, Dick thought, grateful.

“Well, I won’t say no,” Dick chuckled, patting his (fake) belly contently as he ate. “I have a long night ahead of me. It’s sure nice to see some hospitality, even if your invitation was a little peculiar, young lady.”

“That’s okay,” Lian told him artlessly, “I’m not a lady. Oh hey, you should take my letter with you! I forgot to mail it.”

Dick accepted the letter, stowing it away in his coat. Then he gave a wave. “I must be off. The reindeer will be worrying already. Have a merry Christmas, young Lian.”

“You, too, Santa!”

Aware that Lian would be running to the window as soon as he was outside, Dick moved quickly: Grappling over to the neighbor’s house and then up, hiding behind—of all things—the chimney.

Not a second too late, either. He could hear the window open behind him just as he slid behind the chimney. It only closed three minutes later when Roy called out: “C’mon, pumpkin. You can have a cookie, too, but then it’s time for bed.”

“Alright,” Lian replied, audibly pouting. “But I want another story.”

Just to be safe, Dick waited another twenty minutes before standing up. From the rooftop, he allowed himself one last longing look at the warm glow of the living room.

They’re not yours, Dick, he reminded himself. Just because he loved Roy—loved them both so, so much—didn’t mean he had any right to stay.

To distract himself, he opened Lian’s letter. Just to make sure he managed to get everything on her wishlist, of course. The handwriting was spiky but legible. There were barely any spelling errors, either. Dick shook his head, torn between pride and worry. Lian had just started first grade.

Dear Santa,

Thank you for visiting. You are busy, so I will keep it short. I have been very good this year, so I want two wishes.

The ‘two’ was underlined twice. Dick raised an eyebrow. He was only aware of one.

First, I want my own superhero custume! Daddy says I can’t go out with him yet, but I can at least start training, so I wanna look really cool. Please?

Okay, that one was taken care of, thanks to Alfred. It had been the content of the parcel Dick had dropped off earlier.

Second, I want Uncle Dick to finally marry my daddy so he never leves. Daddy wants that, too, he told me so.

Thanks, Santa!

Yours, Lian Harper

…oh.

(I’m taking prompts until the end of the year.)

#roydick #lian harper #elareine writes #christmas

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hannahcoursey · 4 years

Text

Take a Sip Part 2

Author: Hannahc56

Word Count: 2,348

Request: Hi there, hi! Could you maybe do a fic where the reader accidentally gets roofied and Dean comes to the rescue?

PART ONE.

----

Your eyes fluttered lightly. The stench of the old motel room flooded your senses. The smell of sheets that haven’t been washed in ages and the feel of itchy blankets that have laid across countless bodies. Before you could even open your eyes, you felt the headache swarming around your temples, only pounding filled your ears and a grimace left your lips. You could hear the sound of heavy boots shuffling around the room before a warm hand slipped underneath your neck and pulled you carefully up.

Dean.

“Hey, hey, don’t move too fast, alright?” His deep voice was raspy and felt like it rattled around in your sore head. You reached a hand up and placed it over his lips. When you opened your eyes, he stared back at you, his orbs searching for validation that you were alright.

“Whispers, please,” You let your hand drop to the mattress, “Whispers.” You croaked. Dean let out a sigh as his hand brushed your cheek. Even in your dazed state, you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks at the sensations his touch left on your skin. After a moment, he let his hand fall away and he cleared his throat. He laid you back down onto the bed and sat straight.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, trying his hardest to clear the tension out of the air between the two of you. You could feel your hands shaking slightly, so you closed them in tight fists.

“Is it dramatic to say I feel like I was sucker punched by an 18-wheeler?” You let a light laugh escape your lips, “Because honestly, I feel like I was sucker punched by an 18-wheeler.” Dean shook his head as his eyes cast down, ignoring your attempt to lighten the mood. After a moment passed you reached out and grazed his leg. Yet, he still didn’t meet your eyes.

“Dean,” You said, careful as if he was a deer you could easily spook,”Everything’s alright.” You tried to reassure him, but his eyes were dark and his mind had been turning while you were out.

“Y/N, do you even remember anything?” He turned and looked down at you, his eyes searching yours for answers you weren’t sure you could give him.

“I-I remember me and you and the hunt,” You hesitated, suddenly wishing you could sink into the bed and avoid the coming conversation, “And then I went to the bar,” You looked away from his eyes and tried to look anywhere else, “A-And that’s where it stops.” You tried, grasping at whatever you could. The douchebag frat boy. Sticky bar floors against your cheek. You sat up straight, your head swimming. You pressed your eyes shut and felt Dean’s calloused hand press against your cheek again. “Fuck, I was roofied? Are you kidding me?” You shook the fogginess from your head and opened your eyes. Dean stared back at you, his eyes filled with more guilt than what usually clouded his beautiful green irises. You knew the way he thought, you could read him like a book. And he thought this was on him. You reached up and covered his hand that still laid on your cheek with your own. “Dean, I’m fine,” You pulled your lips together and formed a small grin, “Nothing a little sleep can’t fix, am I right?” You teased, but he didn’t answer.

“I shouldn't have yelled at you Y/N, I don’t know what I was thinking.” He said, his hand falling at his side, “I don’t know why I get so angry with you, I can’t help it.” He said, his brows furrowing together.

“I’m reckless,” You started, cutting him off, “I know I am, you have every right to be upset with me for that. Because the thought of losing you keeps me up at night,” You said, ignoring the heat that rose to your cheeks, apart of you praying he didn’t notice, “And I refuse to have your blood on my hands,” You shook your head and stared at him, trying hard to maintain your confidence facade with your head pounding. His eyes were trained right on yours, his expression unreadable. You took a deep breath and looked at the ground. “Dean, I shouldn’t have put myself in the line of fire like I did last night on the hunt, and I know that - but you can’t be upset with me, because I know you’d do the exact same thing.” You added, your eyes still cast down. He cleared his throat and the silence that settled between the two of you was deafening.

“We’ll talk later.” He said standing up, suddenly stiff, his voice tight. He turned on his heel and started to walk out of the motel room.

“Dean, don’t be like that,” You pleaded, swinging your legs over the side of the cheap, spring-loaded bed, “Don’t walk out.” You said and he turned to face you so fast, you almost jumped back.

“You’re telling me to not walk out, Y/N? Me?” He pointed his finger at himself, his eyebrows raised, his voice growling with anger. You hadn’t expected him to act like this, but the more you let it sink in the more you realized he had every reason to feel like this.

“Dean, I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant th-” You tried, but he was already steaming.

“No, Y/N, you left, you don’t get to tell me how I should take it, message received loud and clear.” His voice rose and you felt like he could hear how fast your heart was racing from across the room.

“Dean, pleas-” You tried again, but he wasn’t finished.

“You don’t know what it felt like to watch you walk away, to watch you turn your back,” His eyes were pointed, burning through you.

“Dean-” You called his name through his rant.

“You have no idea how I feel about you, Y/N, God, I just-”

“Dean!” You said, raising your voice louder than you knew he’d ever heard it, louder than you’d heard it in ages. The room fell silent at your feet again and tears burned hot behind your eyes. “I left because you told me to,” You matched the anger in his tone to yours, a cover for how hurt you’d been the night before, “You told me to leave, you told me you couldn’t watch me try to save your ass time and time again, you wouldn’t hang around and watch me kill myself, but that’s all I am ever going to do when you’re around,” You’re voice trembled as you raised your voice at him, “All I ever want is to make sure you’re okay Dean, I would let myself die before I let a single thing get their hands on you,” Tears forced their way past their lids, seeping down the sides of your cheeks. Dean’s expression softened and his shoulders slumped slightly as you spoke, “Why can’t you understand that?” You questioned, your voice wavered, dying flat on your lips. You had become so tired of trying to convince this man that he was worth something to you, that you loved him so obviously it was painful. You brushed away your tears with the sleeve of your shirt and let your hands fall in your lap.

After a moment, he crossed the room and sat next to you on the motel bed. You stared at your clasped hands in your lap and sniffled back tears, trying your hardest to stubbornly will them away. The conversation between the two of you wasn’t one you’d been planning on having, not at all. You figured that with the more time that passed, you’d feel different, and the strong emotional pull Dean had on you would float away. But you were wrong. It had only grown, until the point it’d blown up. The two of you sat there, waiting for the other to make the next move, your friendship laying between you both like shattered glass.

“I would do anything,” He spoke, his voice low, “To make sure you’re okay.” He said. You sat there and nodded slow, leaving him to continue. “Y/N, when I walked in and saw you thrown over that asshole's shoulder, God, all I could see was red.” Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his head shake sullenly, “He threw you down like nothing, you just fell right to the floor, I knew something was wrong. I was two seconds away from beating the life outta the kid when I looked over at you and saw you laying there by yourself, just helpless.” His voice faltered and he grew quiet. “You’re always capable and independent and just like that, in a blink of an eye; you were down and out. And I can’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if I hadn’t gotten there right then, Y/N/N, I never would’ve forgave myself.” As he talked, his hand made its way to your lap and wrapped itself around yours. You squeezed his hands and he held you back tight. When you looked up at him, you could tell he wasn’t there. He was far away, in a world where he hadn’t come at the right time, and his dark eyes showed it.

“And that’s exactly why I got involved in the hunt last night,” You answered, causing him to look back at you, “Because I never would’ve forgave myself if I hadn’t. I can’t bury you Dean, I won’t.” You shook your head and reached your other hand up to his cheek. Your thumb brushed over his stubble and he lightly leaned into your hold. “I don’t wanna imagine a world without you Dean. You’re my everything, I mean it.” You whispered, as his eyes wandered over your lips. Before you could even catch your breath, he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and pulled you in, your lips grazing softly. Your heart pumped loud in your chest and you tried to savor every second of it before his lips on yours became nothing but a fleeting memory. When he pulled back, he took a small breath before kissing you again, this time deeper, more passionate. Your hands slid along his back and you pressed him up against you, like you’d always imagined. But this was better. This was happening, this was real. He pulled away far enough to lean his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. To see him this up close felt like a dream. His freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose, his fluffy eyelashes moving as his eyes did underneath their lids. He was everything you thought he was and then some. You pulled back, causing him to look you in the eyes, curious of your reaction.

“I’m sorry I left Dean - I won’t again, ever.” You had to remind yourself to maintain eye contact, as your gaze fell slowly to his lips, “I love you, I can’t do this without you.” You said, hardly above a whisper. His eyes shot back and forth between yours and a small grin climbed his features.

“God, Y/N/N, I think I loved you the second I met you, you know that?” He let out a long breath he must’ve been holding, “This is all I need, I have you… and Sammy,” He said almost as an afterthought and rolled his eyes, raising a laugh out of you, “I don’t need anything else.” He finished as both hands cupped either side of your face. “I’ll tell you that as many times as you need to hear it.” He grazed his lips against yours again, taking it all in as you just had done.

Before it could go any further, Sam opened the door, causing you both to look up at him. He had a bag of food and coffees, the motel room key in his hand and his jaw on the floor. You let out a laugh and Dean awkwardly leaned back and fixed his shirt. Sam hurriedly placed the breakfast on the table as a smile covered his features.

“You don't know how long I’ve waited for this,” He leaned back and laughed, smacking his hands together. You and Dean shot glances at one another, both of your faces red with embarrassment. Sam looked at the two of you and shook his head. “You know, I think this is cause for celebration - How about we get some beers? I know this great college sports bar, right down the road,” He said with a tight-lipped grin. You turned, picking up the pillow from the bed you sat on and chucked it at him. He dodged your throw and chuckled to himself. “What, I’m sorry, c’mon now - Too soon?”

----

Hope you liked it ! Please send any requests, I’d love to write them!

@mila-dans @vicmc624 @sammedeansandwhich

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grantyort · 4 years

Photo

Clearing the Air

[The trio cruises along the empty city streets. Chris is fast asleep in the backseat while Daniel fidgets anxiously in the front.]

SEAN: Need to pee or something?

DANIEL: Nah, I’m just nervous.

SEAN: [chuckles] About what?

DANIEL: Uh… Nothing. Never mind.

SEAN: [sighs] Whatever you say dude.

DANIEL: [turning to Chris] Is he... okay?

DANIEL: Yeah. He just hasn’t slept well since… you know.

SEAN: Well before he wakes up, we need to have a serious talk about all this.

[Sean pulls the car over to the side of the road. He gets out and sits on the hood, motioning Daniel to join him. Daniel reluctantly agrees]

DANIEL: Sean Iisten-

SEAN: No, you listen! I went through hell just so we could stay in this country, so you could live a normal life! Now you’re just gonna throw it all away on some wild goose chase?! Don’t you even care? I swear this is like Nevada all over again!

[Daniel looks ashamed and on the verge of tears]

DANIEL: I’m s-sorry Sean. It’s just that… we haven’t seen each other in months, and you don’t answer my texts and I thought if I-

SEAN: No… you’re right. That wasn’t fair. I’m guess I’m still… trying to figure this whole thing out.

DANIEL: I know.

SEAN: Why didn’t you just tell me, instead of pulling a stupid stunt like this?

DANIEL: I… didn’t want to drag you into this.

SEAN: Well guess what Daniel? I’m in it now whether you like it or not. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re kind of a package deal.

DANIEL: I’m sorry.

SEAN: There you go again. Always apologizing after the fact. For once, I want you to think things through before you go running off on your next crusade!

DANIEL: I’ll try.

SEAN: You damn well better. Remember the deal we made with the Feds, no big splashes! If they catch even a whiff of what you’re doing… ¡se acabó! They’ll throw my ass back in jail and lock you in some government black site. We’ll never see each other again. Is that what you want?!

DANIEL: No of course not! It’s just… Chris has lost everything. I just want to help him get answers and justice. It’s the least we can after all he’s done for us. We owe him that much!

SEAN: [scoffs] You’ve really grown up, haven’t you?

[Sean leans over and hugs Daniel who is taken off-guard but sinks into Sean’s arms, savoring the familiar comfort]

DANIEL: What was that for?

SEAN: Oh nothing. Just getting you back for earlier.

[Daniel smiles and rests his head on his brother’s shoulder]

SEAN: Enano, listen… I’m sorry I’ve been so… distant. College’s just been hectic as fuck. I’ve got a side-gig going on, and I know haven’t always been… there for you, like I should be.

DANIEL: You don’t have to apologize, Sean. You’ve already done so much. You should go live your own life for a change. Besides, I’m not a kid anymore. I can take care of myself now.

SEAN: [laughs] I’ve heard that one before.

DANIEL: I’m serious! You don’t have to worry about me. Go to parties, hook up, cram for exams or whatever. I don’t wanna be a burden anymore.

SEAN: You’re not a burden, Daniel and worrying about you is kind of in the job description. I mean the hours are long and you don’t get paid, but at the end of the day it’s all worth it, you know?

DANIEL: Yeah I know… thanks, Sean.

If Daniel threatened Sean back at the bus depot:

DANIEL: S-sorry for what happened back at the bus station. I don’t know what got into me.

SEAN: You should be. We don’t see each other for weeks and the first thing you do is try to pick a fight.

DANIEL: I just… got caught up in the moment.

SEAN: Hope you haven’t been doubling up on your pills again.

DANIEL: Of course not! I’m not stupid Sean!

SEAN: Never said you were.

DANIEL: Sorry. I don’t wanna fight.

SEAN: Me neither. But just for the record, I would have kicked your ass.

DANIEL: (rolling his eyes) Sure Sean.

SEAN: I did last time.

DANIEL: That didn’t count! You caught me off-guard!

SEAN: That’s kind of the point, genius. You think the bad guys are gonna warn you before attacking?

DANIEL: What bad guys? Besides, even if one of them got the jump on me, I’d still stop them all. Easy-peasy!

SEAN: This isn’t a superhero movie, it’s real life. You gotta pay attention to your surroundings at all times!

DANIEL: (mockingly) Whatever you say… sensei.

DANIEL: Are you… doing okay?

SEAN: What do you mean?

DANIEL: You know… with college, and track and everything. I don’t really know much except what I hear from Lyla-

SEAN: Oh you mean your little spy? I still haven’t forgotten about the library incident you know.

DANIEL: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

SEAN: Yeah, yeah! play dumb! You’re lucky that marker was washable otherwise your ass would be grass right now!

DANIEL: I thought you were supposed to be able to see that sorta stuff coming.

SEAN: I was asleep! Besides that’s not how it works!

DANIEL: Pfft excuses!

SEAN: Don’t push it. I’m still mad at you, you know.

DANIEL: (making a funny face) Yeah? How about now?

SEAN: [laughs] Okay. I’m letting you off the hook this time.

[Daniel pulls a chock-o-crisp out his pocket and begins to eat]

SEAN: Still eating those?

DANIEL: (mouth full) What? I’m hungry!

SEAN: I read an article that chock-o-crisps can stunt your growth. You better cut back or you might be stuck an enano forever.

DANIEL: That’s bullshit! I grew 3 inches since Christmas. I’ll probably be taller than you soon!

SEAN: Ha You wish! [he ruffles Daniel’s hair]

DANIEL: Stop it! You know how long it took me to get it just right?

SEAN: Since when do you care so much about your hair?

DANIEL: Chris says that it looks cool like this.

SEAN: I thought you “always looked good”.

DANIEL: Yeah, but I just like it better this way.

SEAN: Okay, okay. Hands off the hair. Got it.

DANIEL: So Sean, you...

Seeing anyone?

Talk to Mom lately?

Seeing anyone?

SEAN: Taking an interest in my love life? Who would've thought?

DANIEL: It’s not like I really care. I just… don’t want you to get lonely.

SEAN: Don’t worry about that, enano, I got plenty of term papers and angry TAs to keep me company.

DANIEL: I’m being serious Sean.

SEAN: Well if you must know, I did meet someone recently. We were actually supposed to have dinner tonight but… you know.

DANIEL: Oh… sorry.

SEAN: (jokingly) You should be. We don’t even live in the same state anymore and somehow you still manage to cock-block me!

DANIEL: (cheekily) That’s my real superpower!

SEAN: (rolling eyes) Yeah, yeah keep laughing. Who knows? Maybe someday, I’ll return the favor.

(They both laugh)

SEAN: How about you? How’s school? Anyone giving you shit?

DANIEL: Nah. Everyone likes me, well except Wilkes and Brad. But they’re assholes. Anyway, there is this dance coming up next week and I still don’t have a date. I was thinking of asking this one girl, Millie. We text and stuff and I guess she’s pretty!

SEAN: Whoa dude, slow down! Focus on keeping your grades up. You’ve got plenty of time for that stuff later. Me on the other hand. I think I’m just about ready to die alone.

LYLA <-> FINN/CASSIDY (Determinant)

LYLA:

DANIEL: What about Lyla? She’s single!

SEAN: Dude no! It’d be way too weird. We’ve known each other since forever. It would never work. And besides, I’d never take her from you.

DANIEL: S-shut up. That was just a stupid crush! I’m totally over her!

SEAN: (deadpanning) Oh no. I’m sure she’ll be devastated.

CASSIDY:

DANIEL: What about… what’s her name? The smelly hippie with the purple wig.

SEAN: Cassidy? She’s all the way up in Canada, dude! Plus, I need to get clearance every time I leave the country. It would never work.

DANIEL: That’s okay. You can totally do better!

SEAN: Oh ouch. Still holding a grudge, eh?

DANIEL: I just think… you’re too good for her.

SEAN: I’ll take that as a compliment. I guess.

FINN:

DANIEL: What about Finn? Weren’t you totally into him?

SEAN: Finn’s still in jail dude. What are we supposed to do? Make out through the glass?

DANIEL: Haha true.

(If Sean forgave Finn in Episode 4)

DANIEL: Do you ever wish things turned out differently with him?

SEAN: Sure… sometimes, but life’s too short for regrets.

DANIEL: You’re starting to sound like Mom.

SEAN: I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that.

(If the player did not forgive Finn in Episode 4)

SEAN: He’s applying for early parole and wants to me be at his hearing. Can you believe that?

DANIEL: You’re not going, are you? He totally used us. He deserves to be locked up!

SEAN: Whoa where’s this coming from? Didn’t you use to be his biggest fan?

DANIEL: What are you talking about?

SEAN: (mockingly) Oooo Finn’s so cool! Finn lets me do whatever I want. I wish Finn was my brother!

DANIEL: What?! I never said that! Besides, I was just a stupid kid back then!

SEAN: Yeah and no one’s denying that.

DANIEL: Whatever. If you want to go, go.

SEAN: Nah… I’m done with Finn. There’s plenty of better guys out there.

Talk to Mom lately?

SEAN: Yeah got a call from her two weeks ago. Business has been booming ever since… they legalized it in Arizona. So, expect an extra big birthday present this year.

DANIEL: Bet you want to move there so you can (he makes a toking motion)

SEAN: Haha, maybe after I graduate!

DANIEL: (sigh) I miss Away.

SEAN: I do too. There was something special about that place. Everyone there was so chill. Not like here.

Ask about Away

DANIEL: And Joanne? Is she still-

SEAN: [sigh] The latest round of chemo didn’t work. So they’re preparing for the worst…

DANIEL: I want to see her Sean, before…

SEAN: I know enano. But Arizona’s too far and way too close to the border. The Feds would never go for it.

DANIEL: I don’t care! I need to say goodbye to her, in-person.

SEAN: [sigh] Okay. I’ll talk to Flores, see if we can work something out.

DANIEL: Thanks Sean.

SEAN: Arthur and Stanley got a new puppy! His name is Rufus. He’s a bit of a handful but super cute.

DANIEL: No way!

SEAN: I’ve got pictures.

DANIEL: Dude! Send them now!

Ask About Sean’s Eye:

DANIEL: How’s your eye?

SEAN: Can’t complain. Still gets itchy from time to time but that’s what the eye lube’s for.

DANIEL: Ew, can you not call it that?

Ask about Sean’s Appearance

DANIEL: Dude what’s with the beard? It looks all itchy and gross!

SEAN: You’re just jealous cuz you can’t grow one!

DANIEL: Could too! I just don’t want to.

SEAN: Yeah sure… Have your heuvos even dropped yet?

DANIEL: Ewwww, shut up!

SEAN: I’ll take that as a no. And since you love my beard so much. Here, feel it! [He rubs his cheek against Daniel’s.]

DANIEL: (laughing) Stop Sean! That tickles! Quit it!

SEAN: RESPECT THE BEARD!

[Sean drapes his arm over Daniel who leans on his shoulder. They look at the night sky together]

DANIEL: Whoa... check out that moon!

SEAN: How about a team howl? For old times’ sake?

DANIEL: Yeah! Diaz Lobos!

[They howl together as “Into the Woods” plays]

< Previous

#life is strange 2 #life is strange #sean diaz #daniel diaz #chris eriksen #lis2 #lyla park #captain spirit #captain spirit ww

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hybridequalist · 3 years

Text

Thinking Out Loud (Part 5)

I live! I write! It’s here!

Previous Chapter (tumblr link)

Taglist (Lemme know if you wanna join this, btw): @nesli26, @manga-crazy, @venomemes, @galleyleelol, @makingtimemine, @jackie-sugarskull, @nightshade7117, @skysthelimit291, @randomshizzles101, @inumorph, @snow-massacre, @phantom-fangirl-stuff, @pixellated-sparks, @vsalamandor2, @otaku-mai, @snarky-badger

Your legs were bouncing as you sat in Lauren’s front seat, staring blankly out the window. You were focused on your breathing techniques to settle yourself, settle your pre-outing jitters. It had been a surprise, after all.

Eddie had called earlier and asked if you were available for a rescheduled lunch outing. You’d given the affirmative and Lauren had helpfully offered to bring you downtown to the cafe on the way to some errands she needed to run. You knew that she was offering just to be nice and give you some comfort and more time to transition to being in a social situation, but you appreciated it...even if it felt like your mom driving you to a High School dance.

The car halted at a stoplight and you automatically glanced at your landlady, just in case she wanted to talk to you.

Her finger tapped the steering wheel before she twisted to look at you, signing “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“If I’m not,” you sign back, “you’ll be the first to know. Just keep your phone close. But I think I’ll be okay. Eddie is nice.”

Lauren gave you a meaningful glance as the light turned green. Her thoughts reflected the look, full of a fierce protectiveness, one that all but screamed "if he makes you uncomfortable I will end him."

You fidgeted, tugging at the edge of your frilled blouse. You’d wanted to dress up since it was the first time in a while that you had gone out with a friend, but you were starting to remember why you never wore your nicer clothes: they were itchy and still felt too new. Just the minor friction of the less-than-comfortable fabric was stressing your nerves even more.

You took notice of the anxious energy building and took a few deep breaths before resuming the meditation breathing pattern you had learned in one of your infrequent therapy sessions. After a few minutes of focus, your heart rate slowed and you felt more grounded. You glanced away from your feet and out the window, realizing that Lauren was now looking for a parking space or some free pavement space to drop you off.

You pulled out your phone and started typing.

We just made it. Looking for a spot to stop.

Your phone indicated that Eddie had read the text. You pulled down the sunshade and checked your appearance, fiddling with the microscopic flaws that had developed.

This might be a meeting between friends, but Eddie was still a relatively new acquaintance--he was still investigating you and deciding what labels to give you. It was a time to put your best foot forward. Especially since he'd gotten a glimpse of your...issues.

You glanced at your phone, expecting to see the beginning indication of a return text, but instead you heard some muffled shouting. You automatically turned your head towards the sidewalk and saw a familiar figure waving at the car from the street.

“ EDDIE! SHE SAW US! CAN YOU HEAR US?!”

The mental yelling rang through your skull, making you wince a little at the invisible volume. You waved out at them and tapped Lauren on the shoulder before she crossed the intersection.

“Eddie is over there,” you pointed out, letting her take the time to follow your gestures and resume looking back at you. “I’ll get out here. I will call your phone if I need to get picked up and text you the details.”

“If it vibrates, I’m turning right back around,” she promised. The two of you shared a quick hug before you unbuckled yourself and stepped out. Careful of other cars, you quickly speedwalked over to the sidewalk where your friends waited.

“Good to see you again,” Eddie greeted you, lifting his hand for a high five. You smiled and reciprocated.

“ DON’T IGNORE ME ,” Venom complained, sounding for all the world like a kicked puppy. You reached up and patted the sleeve of Eddie’s jacket, where you knew the alien was hiding. The preening feeling from Venom’s thoughts made you want to laugh aloud.

“So...lunch?” Eddie asked. “Have you tried this new cafe? They really go hard into the whole ‘sourdough is the food of San Francisco' thing. Probably meant to get the tourists, but the sandwiches still are great.”

There were a lot of things to respond to in that brief sentence and you fumbled with your conversation cards, flipping through them to string together a sentence that made sense.

“No. That sounds interesting. Let’s go.”

“It’s just this way,” he gestured, straightening from bending closer to read your cards. “Stick close; we might hit some of the lunch rush on the way in.”

You grabbed another card.

“I’m not good with crowds.”

“Then we can order to go and find somewhere else to sit. It’s no problem.”

“ WE WERE GOING TO SHOW YOU MY SURPRISE FROM LAST TIME ANYWAY. THE PRIVACY WILL HELP ,” Venom added.

Eddie offered his arm and you blinked at him before you caught his thoughts. He wanted to make sure you stayed beside them since you couldn’t very easily let him know you were being left behind--not like how most people let their friends know. Venom’s feelings were tacked onto the thought, revealing that he liked the thought of you holding onto them because he could protect you better the closer you were.

You looped your arm through Eddie’s.

The walk to the cafe was silent from a vocal standpoint: Eddie and Venom conversed with one another about their thoughts on the food and their past experience, the more deliberate wording telling you that they were actually talking to you without expecting any replies. All the same, you couldn’t help but feel awkward at how every passerby viewed you--both pedestrian and driver. Most thought you were on a date, others were convinced you just didn’t want to get separated. Almost everyone wondered why you and Eddie weren’t having a conversation. After all, wasn’t it the polite thing to do when out for a walk?

“ ARE YOU LISTENING TO US, MORSEL? ”

The symbiote’s question pulled you back. You’d gotten caught up in the overwhelming noise of everyone else’s thoughts, losing your ability to distinguish internal words from external ones with the din of other people’s conversations mixed with their observations of you. But Venom’s mental voice was much louder than the humans walking past and was able to cut through the ceaseless hum.

You immediately reached for one of your cards, feeling the well worn, bent corners and not needing to check it for the words on it.

“Sorry.”

You reached for another, equally used phrase.

“It’s difficult to explain.”

“Hey, no worries,” Eddie replied, tone deliberately soft so as to comfort you. “You just looked like you were spacing out a bit and I wanted to make sure you were okay. We’re almost there.”

You nodded and let your friend resume guiding you, deliberately focusing on his and Venom’s thoughts to let the others fade into background noise.

“ I tried your name a few times, but you weren’t answering. I’m glad you’re okay for now. Do you think you’ll be okay in the shop? Just because it’s closer quarters. ”

“ EDDIE, WE FOUND HER IN A GROCERY STORE. I’M SURE SHE CAN HANDLE A FOOD TRANSACTION. ”

“ Do you remember the spoons metaphor I told you about? ”

“ AND I STILL DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY IT HAS TO BE SPOONS! IT JUST MAKES ME THINK OF FOOD AND I AM ALWAYS HUNGRY. ”

Their banter was comforting. Their partnership might still be relatively new by normal standards, but spending all their time together--literally every waking moment--had quickly built their bond beyond what two ordinary humans could achieve in similar circumstances. They had actually reached a point where words, while convenient to keep their identities distinct, were not entirely necessary. Images, sensations, memories, all were equal communication tools.

It almost made you jealous at how easily they could literally share their thoughts with one another. You were stuck having to pretend you were oblivious to what people really felt.

The cafe was nice and cozy. There thankfully wasn’t a huge line--it gave you plenty of time to pick what you wanted from the menu and look at the carefully selected decor of the shop (mostly to ignore the man standing behind you, who was actively checking out anyone who looked to be of age and was daring to show even an inch of skin). You typed up your order on your phone and showed it to the cashier, who thankfully took it all in stride and smoothly got the process started. Eddie ordered a healthy sandwich and a slice of very rich chocolate cake, which had Venom purring at the thought of dessert.

You slipped out of the cafe, the line having grown significantly behind you and your friends even in just the short time. You could feel a headache forming from the combined vocal and mental chatter as you held on to Eddie and let him guide you away.

“Are you okay with taking a few backroads?” he asked and you saw he’d noticed your scrunched brow. “Just for some peace and quiet away from the main street? It’s probably only going to get louder.”

You nodded vigorously and Eddie picked up his pace, practically pulling you along with his brisk speed. He guided you through an alley onto a much narrower footpath with significantly fewer pedestrians, hesitating as he silently asked Venom to help him remember the way to a green space he remembered eating at before.

You took the break to check yourself over for signs of overstimulation. So far, nothing that some cleansing breaths and food wouldn’t take care of.

And then, like a ping on a psychic radar, you heard a familiar mind call your name.

“ Y/N?! But didn’t the suits snatch her?! ”

Your eyes snapped over to where you felt his thoughts and your heart began to race as you saw a face you’d prayed would never cross paths with you again.

At a first glance, he wasn’t a physically imposing man: barely five and a half feet tall, he didn’t show any obvious muscle or have any “red flags” to his features that might suggest he was dangerous. You almost would have looked right past him--his hair hadn’t been a blonde crew cut when you’d seen him last--but those deep hazel eyes held yours prisoner. You didn’t even need your powers to see the obvious greed ravaging his thoughts.

“Y/N? Hey, are you with me?”

Eddie’s words felt like they came from far away, even with Venom echoing them with his impressive volume. You were just staring at the other man, a silent scream trapped in your mute throat.

Your sight was suddenly filled with brown leather as Eddie stood in front of you, bending over to look you in the eye.

“Y/N,” he repeated. “Are you okay? Are you present? Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Excuse me.” The familiar voice made your skin break out in goosebumps as a chill ran down your spine. “Ma’am, are you going to be alright?”

You jolted backwards, throwing your hands up to clamp over your ears. It was a futile attempt to block out the feeling of his mind, his thoughts, the way he felt the world and took delight in your weakness, in your fear, in the worry of the others who were witnessing your distress…

“ EDDIE, MASK? ” Venom asks.

“ It’s too public ,” his partner protested silently even as he verbally stated, “Don’t crowd her please.”

“Let’s go,” you signed frantically, unable to stop fixating. “Please.”

“Come on,” Eddie ushers you, holding out a hand for you to take--which you did with an iron grip. “It’s not far.”

You kept pace with your friends as you put rapid distance between yourself and your old acquaintance, still highly aware of those hazel eyes on you. The sound of the city faded as your feet hit grass and Eddie sat you down onto a bench, dropping to one knee by the armrest.

“What do you need me to do?” he asks, looking you over.

“ WHAT CAN WE DO? ” the symbiote echoed.

You just kept holding Eddie’s hand, fighting tears as you made yourself breathe deeply, clinging tighter when he tried to retract.

They were concerned. They wanted to help. And that was enough to help ground you to the point where you could pull out your phone.

I’ve met that man before. His name is Mitch. We used to be friends. It didn’t end well.

“ I’M GOING TO EAT HIS HEAD! ” Venom howled. His human counterpart took the revelation a little better: he took a second to process it--suppressing the flurry of questions that flooded his mind--and then he stood to join you on the bench.

“Do you need to talk about it now, or do you just want to put it aside for now?”

Put it aside. Please.

“Not a problem. Shall we eat?”

You were a little surprised he agreed so quickly--especially with how vocal Venom was being--but it was a relief nonetheless. You opened your take-out bag and retrieved your food, setting about enjoying it despite the residual shakiness in your hands.

You were about half done when a realization struck you, making you bite your tongue by accident. You jolted your phone out.

Did you respond to me signing back there?

Eddie read it and then laughed a little.

“Uh, so about the surprise Vee had for you...I’ll let him show you.”

“ FINALLY! ”

You watched curiously as Eddie relaxed and then his hands began to move--and you could see in his mind that he wasn’t in charge of the motions. This was all Venom.

The motions were careful and slow, but you sat straight up as Eddie’s hands started forming familiar words.

“Hi. My name is--” there was some hesitation as they briefly conferred with what name to use but they quickly resumed-- “V-E-N-O-M. It is good to talk to you.”

You gasped and gave them a brief applause. You then returned to typing.

How did you learn that so quickly?

“Vee has lots of free time when I’m sleeping,” Eddie shrugged, smiling as he regained the use of his arms. “He’s been looking at Sign dictionaries trying to string that whole phrase together.”

“ I’M BETTER AT FINGERSPELLING ,” the alien admitted, still basking in pride. “AND I KNOW ALL OF THE BASICS: HUNGRY, EAT, DRINK, YES, NO, GO, STOP, PLEASE, THANK YOU AND CHOCOLATE.”

You laughed soundlessly as Eddie rolled his eyes.

But why? You asked. Why go to the trouble?

“ BECAUSE WE WANT TO MAKE IT EASIER TO TALK TO YOU MORE! ” There is no hesitation in Venom’s response. “ IF YOU ARE IN TROUBLE, WE NEED TO UNDERSTAND WHAT IS WRONG QUICKLY! ”

“Not that we’re expecting trouble,” Eddie adds. “I just figured it would be helpful in general. But you’re gonna have to forgive me if he--” he tapped his temple--“has to do some translating in the beginning since he’ll pick it up way faster than me.”

You could feel tears pricking at your eyes again. They were willing to learn Sign for you? No other friend had been willing to do that for you since High School.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” They’d noticed your watery eyes. They were worried. They knew you had been stressed out during the whole outing and wanted to make you comfortable and safe.

Nothing,” you fingerspelled, taking care to make each letter distinct so they could more easily follow. “Thanks.”

“ EDDIE, I WANT THE CAKE NOW ,” Venom complained, changing gears faster than you or Eddie expected. “ WE HAD YOUR HEALTHY SANDWICH, NOW GIVE ME THE GOOD STUFF. ”

“ You absolute addict ,” Eddie thought back, taking a determined bite of mostly lettuce just to make the symbiote pout. You gave another silent laugh as you too returned to eating, happy to just listen to their chatter for a while longer.

#venom #venom movie #Venom Symbiote #venom x reader #selectively mute character #deaf character #ASL #sign language #hybridwrites

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shxllxfx · 4 years

Text

Now prt. 1 // Happy Lowman

Chibs x Daughter!Reader ; Happy x Reader

Summary: Chibs meets his daughter for the first time.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, a lot of abuse actually, mentions of injuries, I think that's it

A/N: This will be more about Happy as it goes on but I wanted to share the history first. I've never been abused in any way, so I dont know what it's like. If you are being abused, please make sure to talk to someone and get help, you are not alone and if you want to talk, you can also talk to me. Lots of love xx

Words: 1388

Taglist: @leahlahote

Masterlist

With swollen and itchy eyes you walked up to the few people standing in front of the building, men wearing a kutte, some wearing work clothes and a woman. The little kid on your hip fast asleep, your bag in your other had. The decision to come here wasn't easy, but long over due. The woman looked at you when you stopped walking, letting your bag hit the floor gently. By now all of them had turned around, looking at you. "Can we help you?" A blond man asked while you whipped over your swollen lip, slowly rocking the child on your hip. You looked to the floor and back up at them. "I...I'm searching for someone." You slowly said. They all looked at each other when one of the men, one with dark curls. "You've gotta be more specific, doll." He said, slightly turning his head to the right side. You felt a small hand patting your chest softly. "Uhm...I don't know if he's still here. His name is Filip Telford." Some of the men started laughing and the blond one looked at you with a piercing gaze. "Dont tell me you are here because that's his child." He laughed, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. You chuckled slightly as you rubbed your baby's back, stroking over her pink shirt. "No, no...uhm that's...he is my father." You said, clearing your throat right after. The one with the curls turned on this heel, looking at the blonde. "I'll go get him." He said. Everybody stared at you and the little girl on your arm. "Thanks, Tig." The blonde said. Again you felt a little hand on your chest, this time opening and closing. "I dont know if he knows of me tho." The blonde now slowly came up to you, holding his hand out. You took it with hesitation. "I'm Jax." "(Y/N), that's Ivy." You answered, turning your head to her side, seeing that she just woke up. "I know I dont know you, but you maybe wanna tell me who did that to you?" He said, nodding his head at the several bruises in your face. You looked down, tears starting to flood your eyes again when the man from before, Tig and a grey haired man came back. With every step they came closer your heartbeat started to increase. Does he know a bout you? Would he even believe you or remember your mother? When they stopped in front of you you got pulled out of your thoughts. "H...hello." you quietly said. "I...My name's (Y/N) and...I dont know if you remember but you used to date my mom a while back. Her...her name's (Y/M/N)." You muttered, not able to look at his face. Slowly the tears started to stream down your cheeks and you cleared your throat again, whipping them away. "How about we go inside, eh? I think we got a lotta talk 'bout." He whispered as he took your bag with one hand and slowly shoved you inside with the other.

-------

You were sitting on a chair with Ivy on your leg, rocking her up and down as you felt yourself being looked at by several people. You cleared your throat again. "Mum never hid from me where I came from." You started, stroking Ivys cheek as she cooed at you. "I always knew who my dad was. She...she always told me you two didn't end well but that she loved you. She left and found out she was pregnant a few weeks after. Mum said she didnt want to tell you, but that she knew she could have and that you would have been there for us, that it was her fault and her decision." You looked up at him, smiling at how much she looked like you Mum had told you. He nodded slowly. "I had a happy childhood. You know Mum told me a lot about you, the way you were, what you looked like. She had a lot of pictures from back then." Ivy jiggled on her leg, trying to get off it, so you put her on the ground where she started to walk sloppily. She just started to walk. "She got married to a real scum bag, only good thing that came outta that was my little brother." You smiled at the thought of him. He was eleven years younger than you and an angel. Again a few tears left your eyes. "He...He and Mum had a car crash about three years ago." Suddely you felt two arms wrapped around you. He was hugging you. "If I woulda known that, I...I would have been there." He said. "Why didnt you come here earlier? I mean right after she died?" He asked, pulling away again. You shook your head slowly, hands on your cheek as you whipped the tears away, cringing at the way they slightly burned on the cut at your lip. "It didnt feel right till now. I...I didnt wanna burden you but now it's not just 'bout me anymore." You said looking at Ivy, who was walking around in the bar. He looked at you, scanning your body. "The person who did that to you the reason you here?" Chibs, how they called your dad here, asked. You cleared your throat as you got up and picked Ivy from the floor she just fell on, rocking her on your hip soothingly. You nodded slightly. "Hey...uhm...is there any place I can put her to sleep real quick? It was a long trip." You asked and he nodded, shoving you in the hall.

-------

"At first it just started with yelling, first time was after I started showing." You said, taking a sip from the beer you held in your hand, not taking your eyes off it. "After a while it started to get worse." You said, feeling a lot of eyes on you as you tilted your head back. Your dad looked at you reaching for your hand holding it. "Worse?" He asked, clenching his jaw. Even though you only just walked in his life and in this room, you could feel his raging anger just like everyone else in the room. They all stared at you and cursed under their breath. You cleared your throat again. "I was in the hospital almost 30 times in three years of realationship. If you add it up I had several broken ribs, a disengaged shoulder..." Chibs clenched the fist that was not holding your hand. Tears started to flood your eyes for the hundredths time that day as you took a deep breath in to keep going. "A...a broken wrist, left arm broken, several bruises all o...over my body. I..." A quiet chuckle escaped my mouth, not because I thought it was funny but because it seemed so surreal. I never thought that something like that would ever happen to me. "I...stopped counting how many times my nose was broken." You scoffed. One of your Dads friends slammed his hands on the table. "Men beating women. That's some pussy shit." He said. He seemed pretty young and had tattoos on his head and arms. He introduced himself as Juice earlier. You slightly nodded. "Well I left once that asshole decided to raise his hand against my baby." You whispered. Everybody's eyes shot up. "He didnt get to her. I made sure of that but now I left he's gonna come and find me. And when he finds me he'll kill me." You took a quick pause, taking a long breath. "Mum always said I could come to you when I'm in trouble, and believe me I've been in trouble a lot, but this is different. He's coming to get me and I...I can't let that happen. I...I just can't...because then he'll get Ivy as well and that bitch ain't touching my babygirl again." You breathed out. You wanted to cry, there just weren't any tears left. You looked around, a lot of eyes at you. "I dont need pity or anything, really. I...I just want my baby to be save, that's all. I dont wanna have to hit him with a baseball bat again." You muttered.

"You sure as hell are my daughter when you him that man with a baseball bat." Chibs laughed stroking your arm soothingly.

#happy lowman #sons of anarchy #happy lowman imagine #jax teller #sons of anarchy imagine

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loveisblindfanfictionbka · 3 years

Text

Love Is Blind: Chapter Seventeen

Robyn blinked a few times as she woke up but everything in her view was blurry. It seemed like a flurry of white running past her face. Her head hurt, hell, her whole body hurt. What was going on?

Chris paced in the waiting room of the hospital. They’d been here for over three hours and yet nothing had changed. Walking into his bedroom to see the sheets covered in blood and Robyn not moving completely stopped his heart.

“Daddy.”

Chris turned to see Anesa waking up in her seat in the waiting room. He rushed over to sit next to her, “yes Love Bug, what’s the matter?”

“Can we leave yet? Is Mommy coming out?”

“No, the doctors are still checking on Mommy so we can’t leave right now.”

“Daddy, I’m hungry.”

“Let me see if I can order you something to eat, ok?”

“Ok.”

Chris walked over to the nearby nurse’s desk, “Excuse me, is there any place I can order something to eat?”

“Sure,” the nurse handed him a list of restaurants that delivered to the hospital, “anyone of these can deliver here.”

“Thank you. Do you have any information about Robyn Fenty-Brown yet?”

“Not at this time but I can page the doctor for you.”

“That would be appreciated. Thank you.”

Chris went to sit back with Anesa as he looked through the food listing. Seeing a pizza place that had an online ordering system, he decided to order that way. He looked over at Anesa, who went back to sleep in the chair. He pulled his jacket back over her body then gently rubbed her back.

Robyn’s vision still hadn’t completely cleared but the room became more familiar as she looked around. She was in the hospital, apparently. She tried to move her hands but it felt like she was strapped down. She tried to talk but something was in her mouth. Her brain was sending off all kinds of warnings. Something was really wrong. Her eyes darted from side to side, people were rushing around but nobody was really paying attention to her. It felt like her lungs were imploding. Her chest hurt. She couldn’t breathe. What was happening?

“Code Blue. Room 320,” came over the loudspeaker. Chris watched as two nurses rushed in the direction of Robyn’s room. He looked to Anesa, she was still asleep. He gathered her into his lap and rocked her gently. Last thing he wanted was for her to finally get a mommy, just to lose her.

She could feel them pressing something to her chest. It was warm.This beeping noise rang in her ears and she tried to open her eyes again. Everything was still kind of blurry but the white spots were staring at her now, giving her all their attention unlike before.

“Ms. Fenty, can you hear me? This is Dr. Richardson,” a deep voice said softly as a light flashed in her vision.

She nodded her head, or at least she tried to, since she couldn’t speak. Whatever was in her mouth was itchy and uncomfortable.

“Ok Ms. Fenty, we are going to unstrap your arms and remove your breathing tube. This may be a little uncomfortable.”

She tried to nod again. Soon, she felt her arms being released then something being pulled from her throat. She coughed a few times then smacked her lips together.

“Don’t try and talk yet. You were admitted due to severe bleeding and unconsciousness, ok?”

Robyn pressed her hand to her belly in question.

“Your baby is in the NICU. We did an emergency c-section but you had a seizure. That’s why your body was strapped down to eliminate the possibility of you hurting yourself, ok?”

Robyn nodded again. She needed to know where Chris and Anesa were. She coughed, “my husband. Daughter?”

“Don’t talk, your throat is very sore. They are in the waiting room. We can bring them to you, ok?”

Robyn nodded.

Dr. Richardson went over to a nurse and instructed them to give Robyn some water while he retrieved her family from the waiting room.

Chris watched as Robyn’s doctor came over to where he was sitting with Anesa in his lap, “is she ok? I heard the code.”

“She’s fine. Waking up with the tubes and having her hands strapped down kind of freaked her out is all.”

“Is she still awake?”

“Yes. We’ve removed the tube and the straps. Her throat is still fairly sore so try not to have her talk too much just yet. I’m gonna take you to see her.”

“And the baby is still ok? Last I checked, they said I could only see him through the glass.”

“Your son is still in the NICU. Right now he is on a ventilator and feeding tube. He’s a decent size but his lungs are underdeveloped. He may have to remain here for a week or so at the least before we can release him.”

“Will we be able to hold him at some point?”

“Once we get his breathing stabilized, we’ll see about having a nurse bring you and his mother to see him.”

“Thank you.”

“Not a problem.”

Chris followed Dr. Richardson to Robyn’s room and sat in the chair beside her bed. Dr. Richardson stepped out to speak with a nurse as Chris shifted Anesa more comfortably in his lap, “Robyn?”

She turned her head to face him and tried to smile but her face still felt stiff.

“Hey Baby. You scared the life out of me.”

She shook her head in disappointment as she croaked out a hoarse, “Sorry.”

“No, don’t talk. The doctor said it’s better if you don’t. You want something to write on?”

She nodded her head and Chris handed her a notepad and pen that was left on the nearby table. She scribbled sloppily and pushed the notepad over to Chris. It read, “did our baby die?”

Chris shook his head, “No, the baby didn’t die. His lungs were underdeveloped so he’s in the NICU right now. Once they get him stabilized, they’ll let us see him.”

Him? We had a boy? Did you see him?

“Yes, I saw him. He’s beautiful. He’s got a head full of black curls and green-brown eyes.”

Who found me?

“I did. I came home early after picking Anesa up from camp and found you in the bed. The doctor said that you hemorrhaged because your placenta had tore away from your uterus. Luckily, they got you stabilized and to the hospital in time to save you and the baby.”

Are you mad at me?

“What? Of course not. It wasn’t anything that you did. Sweetheart, you did everything possible to make sure our baby boy is healthy and he’s still here. Everything will be fine.”

When can I leave?

“They haven't told us yet. They’ll probably keep you for observation since you had a seizure after your c-section.”

Robyn nodded in understanding as she set the notepad back on the table and reached her arms out for Anesa. Chris smiled as he carefully shifted some of her tubes aside and placed Anesa in her lap. Robyn cradled her and rocked her gently before placing a kiss on her forehead. She looked over at Chris and asked softly, “did she see?”

“No, she just saw the ambulance. I kept her in her room until they had you covered and on the gurney.”

Robyn nodded, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Sweetheart. I really almost lost you today. I- I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Chris wiped her face as he saw a few tears fall out of her eyes, “I just want you to know that I love you so much and I’m so glad that you made it and that our baby made it. I- you’re a blessing and I want you to know that I know it and I cherish it and I can’t wait until I can take you and our baby home to show that to you. Every day.”

Robyn reached out her hand and Chris pressed her palm to his face, “you do.”

“Not too much talking like the doctor said. But I’m gonna do more and just- all I could think about was you leaving and not knowing how much I love and care for you. I couldn’t remember if I told you I loved you that morning, if I had remembered to hug and kiss you goodbye. Nothing else mattered in the moment that I saw you.”

“Mel. Le.”

“I haven’t gotten a chance to call anyone yet. I left a message with your parents and Jessica but that was it. Everything just happened so fast, I wasn’t even thinking about it.”

She nodded her head in understanding and touched the side of his face again. Chris kissed her palm then held her hand in his, “I’m gonna take a leave of absence for a few weeks while you and the baby recover. I-”

Chris was cut off by a knock on the door. It was the pizza delivery guy. Chris walked over to grab the food and gave the guy a tip before sliding the door closed. He set the bag onto the rolling hospital table then moved it against the wall behind him, “Anesa wanted dinner but she’s still asleep.”

Robyn went to tap her and Chris shook his head, ”don’t wake her. She needs her rest. I’m thinking you need some rest too. Are you tired?”

Robyn shook her head, “No. Thirsty.”

Chris grabbed her cup and poured some water from a pitcher into it along with a straw. He held up to her mouth and Robyn drained the cup of every bit of liquid. She coughed then lied back against her pillows, “you going home?”

“No, I don’t really wanna leave you. I’ll see if Jess can pick up Anesa so she can go home.”

Robyn nodded then looked down at Anesa and smoothed her hand over her hair, “she’s so peaceful.”

“She was really worried about her mommy. I’m sure she can tell that you’re holding her”

“I hope so.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh Babe, he’s adorable,” Robyn remarked softly as Chris pushed her next to the incubator. Their son weighed 6lbs 7 oz. Even though his size was fairly average, the underdevelopment of his lungs was the major concern.

“Yea, he even looks like me a little bit.”

“More than a little. He’s so handsome.”

“He is.”

“Have you thought of a name?”

“Not yet. You?”

“Christian Amir Brown.”

“Christian, huh?”

Robyn laughed, “I think it’s fitting considering how this all started up again.”

“I can take that. I love the name, Robyn.”

“Good. So we agree.”

“We agree.”

Chris kissed her temple just as a nurse came into the room.

“Hi Family. I’m Nurse Jasmine. I heard someone came to hold their little one for the first time,” she said.

“Yes. Hoping we can take him home,” Robyn replied.

The nurse carefully opened the incubator and picked the baby up to set him in Robyn’s lap, “the steroids are taking their time to strengthen his lungs but hopefully it’ll only take a few more days. First baby?”

“Biological. We have an adopted daughter at home.”

“That’s awesome.”

Robyn gently brushed her hand across his head, “is there anything else wrong with him?”

“Nope. No infections. No oxygen deprivation or nothing. Your husband found you right in time.”

“He’s always been good at that,” Robyn said as she looked up at him, “thank you for taking care of him.”

“Oh of course. He really is an adorable little honey. Well I’ll give you some time alone with him, just ring the button if you need someone.”

The nurse left and Chris grabbed a chair to sit next to Robyn, “he’s so calm.”

“I know.”

“So about this husband thing?”

“What?”

Chris raised his brow and Robyn laughed, “we have the same last name, you’re my emergency contact so everybody just assumed we are married. It’s easier than having to keep correcting people.”

“You know we were married before, we could totally make it happen again.”

“Christopher, I know where you are going with this. Not right now.”

“Ok.”

“You wanna take him for a little bit?”

“Absolutely.”

Chris moved closer to grab the infant in his hands while Robyn rolled out of the way. He slid his chair closed to the incubator so he wasn’t pulling the cords while Robyn maneuvered her wheelchair beside him.

“Hey Baby Boy,” Chris cooed softly, “your big sister can’t wait to meet you.”

Robyn smoothed her fingertips along his cheek and he smiled, “Aww...you’re the sweetest little thing.”

“We did good, Baby.”

“Yea, we did.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright Christian, I need you to work with Mommy. They won’t let you go home if you can’t latch on,” Robyn murmured softly.

After 4 days in the NICU, Christian was well enough to be moved to a normal room. Of course, now they had to get him to eat without his feeding tube. Trying to get him to latch onto her breast was a bigger challenge than Robyn expected. She shifted Christian in her lap as his mouth hovered near her nipple. Robyn waited to feel some sort of suction and nothing happened. She sighed softly then shifted him to another position to try again. It wasn’t mandatory for her to breastfeed but they felt more comfortable sending him home once he was eating on his own. He was having a hard time with bottles as well and no one wanted to have to send him home with a feeding tube in his stomach. His suckling mechanisms just weren’t working yet.

“Hey Baby.”

Robyn turned around to see Chris walking into the room. He closed the door and curtain behind him before dropping his stuff onto a nearby chair.

“I thought you had a class today.”

“No, my leave of absence started today. I had to finish some stuff up for the baby’s room and drop Anesa off at school.”

“Oh ok.”

“How is everything going?”

“Not great. We still can’t get him to take a bottle or breastfeed.”

“Oh man. How long are they gonna keep him if he can’t?”

“Doctor said they might give it another day or two, they’d really feel more comfortable with him feeding on his own but if not, we’ll have to use his feeding tube. They don’t want his weight to start slipping.”

“Understandable. How long you been at it?”

“About an hour. I can feel his lips there but he’s having a hard time latching on. Same with the bottle.”

“They say why?”

“With him being premature, some of his natural reflexes haven’t fully developed. It can take up to a few weeks for him to get the hang of it.”

“My little guy. You want me to try the bottle?”

“You can. Maybe he’ll do it for his daddy.”

Chris grinned so hard, it’s almost like he split his face and Robyn laughed, “I have never seen you smile so hard in my life”

“I’m a Dad again. I’m still in shock that he’s here.”

“You’ve been doing an amazing job, Chris.”

“So have you.”

Robyn shrugged, “I guess.”

“What do you mean you guess?”

“It’s only been a few days.”

“And a few days ago, either or both of you might not have been here. You came through for our baby, that deserves praise within itself. You’re here with him all day, every day. He’s strong and he’s beautiful. You’re an incredible mother, no matter how long you’ve been one.”

“Thank you Baby.”

Careful to not nudge the baby, Chris leaned over and pecked her lips a few times, “I’ve been missing you though.”

“I’ve been home. What you mean?”

“I know but we haven’t really done anything together and the doctor did say you need to move around more for your recovery.”

“He did say that but I’m not exactly in going out shape.”

“What does that mean?”

“Chris, I’ve gained like 50 pounds. I might not look pregnant, pregnant but I don’t exactly look normal.”

“You look perfectly fine to me. I already told you it is in all the right places. 50 pounds or 100 don’t mean anything to me.”

Robyn smiled and ran her hand down his arm, “you and your way with words.”

“I’m being honest.”

“I know but still, I don’t know if I’m ready to be out yet.”

“Is there a specific reason you don’t want to be out? You’ve never been self-conscious before.”

“I’ve also never been this big before.”

“Big? Are we looking at the same person?”

“Christopher, take your son please. I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

Chris took Christian from Robyn and sat down in the chair beside the bed, “we’ll talk about this later.”

“What is the big deal about me not wanting to be outside?”

“The fact you need to work on life getting back to normal. You were on bed rest your entire pregnancy and then you’ve been in the hospital for the past two weeks with the baby. You need to get back in the swing of things.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

Chris looked over at her as she pouted, “Don’t be childish, Robyn. We can start slow. Maybe go out to eat or something. It doesn’t have to be an all day thing, ok?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“I’m taking you out this weekend.”

‘Christopher.”

“Uh uh. Your “think about it” is a cover up for hoping something happens so you can say no and I am not going for it.”

“Whatever.”

Chris shook his head and laughed, “you’re gonna always push back just to push back, huh?”

Robyn laughed, “of course. Is he taking the bottle yet?”

“Nope, it’s just sitting in his mouth.”

“Oh well. You’re gonna have to use the syringe to put the mixture into his feeding tube.”

“Is it difficult?”

“No. And it doesn’t hurt him. I’d just rather him not have to be fed that way.”

“I understand.”

#chrianna #loveisblindfanfiction

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seiin-translations · 3 years

Text

2.43 S1 Chapter 1.5 - Young Yunichika

5. INTERMISSION

Finally came to terms with the fact that the dialects are going to be an on and off thing

Translation Notes

1. A zabuton is a flat floor cushion for kneeling

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Haijima did not go to the end-of-term ceremony, but his absence wasn’t much of a topic in class. The ceremony ended without a hitch, and the classroom was filled with the excited buzz of spring break mood. While thinking, I wish I didn’t bring it today, as he felt annoyed by his bulky enamel bag, when he was about to go home…

“Oi, Yuni. Hmm? Haijima’s not here?”

The one who showed his face at the classroom’s door was the teacher who served as the advisor for the boys’ volleyball team. He didn’t seem to have any volleyball experience and was a ghost advisor until now, but unluckily—should that be said?—his work had been increasing lately due to Haijima’s transfer.

“He’s absent today, Haijima.”

“If that’s the case, then you’ll do. Here.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m second-best to Haijima. What’s this…Ah.”

When his eyes dropped to the printout passed to him, he saw that it was a timetable for the days the gym was used during spring break.

“There aren’t any other clubs that used the gym so much during spring break, so I got all the days you wanted easily. What are you going to do?”

“Ugh…”

For almost every day during the break, “Boys’ volleyball” was written in one of the three boxes of morning, noon, and afternoon (and two boxes in succession depending on the day!) without fail.

It would be a good opportunity for Haijima to practice intensively, but…we finally have not that much homework, so I wanna do something more…Doesn’t that guy have anything else he wants to do? Is it normal for prestigious sports clubs to have such a practice schedule for long vacations? I see, there’s an unsurpassable gap between them and small public sports clubs like us.

Despite feeling fed up, he stuffed the printout into his bag and said, “I’ll give it to Haijima.”

“I’m countin’ on you. But I really wish you’d put yourself in my shoes. Your advisor has to be with you pretty much be with you everyday. My long-awaited vacation…”

The advisor’s awareness was increasing with this.

***

Certainly, he remembered that it was this house when it was right before him. Warm lanterns lit up the four corners of his memories that had been closed in by a monochrome snowscape, vivid color returned, sounds could be heard, and images came alive.

Most of time, Kuroba just waited for “Chika” to come and play. Chika’s grandfather only brought him along when he came to play shogi with Kuroba’s grandfather. Even though Chika promised every time before he went home that “we’ll definitely play tomorrow too,” it was always up to their two grandfathers when they would be able to play together again, and the two of them were too young to decide.

Kuroba had only gone to Chika’s house once. They were supposed to be able to play together today, but he heard that Chika couldn’t come because he had a fever and threw a tantrum about going to visit him. He just wanted to play with him, of course, while using visiting him as an excuse.

He forced Chika, who was laid up with his pale face flushed, to get up and then compared their cards. His cheeks were gradually swelling up, so Kuroba cackled about how funny his face looked and Chika got cranky. Chika had mumps—at that time his grandparents didn’t even notice, and that night, the Kuroba house got a panicked phone call and Kuroba later developed symptoms of the mumps he got right from Chika.

His memories were being recalled one after the other, and the jumble of nostalgia and embarrassment filled his body with an itchy feeling.

“Ooe…”

He was confused for a moment when he saw a nameplate that wasn’t Haijima’s surname, but that was natural because this was his maternal grandparents’ home. He left the front door temporarily and strolled along the fence. This fence seemed towering in the past, but now he could easily look into the garden if he rose on his heels a little. On this early afternoon in the middle of March, the storm door on the porch was wide open, even though at this time of the day when the temperature was at its highest, it might or might not reach ten degrees Celsius.

Haijima was lying around on the porch.

“…?”

The heck is he doing?

He thought, knitting his brows and staring. His spindly back was facing this side, and it seemed like he was just rolling around without a pillow or zabuton. (1) He was wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, and his feet were bare under this wintry sky. You could see from his getup that he didn’t feel like going to school from the start, which he felt a bit exasperated by.

“Haijimaaa!”

He called out to him beyond the fence, but got no answer.

“Hey!”

He thought he was being ignored, but he could see headphones buried between his hair.

“Yes, yes, who is it…oh my, aren’t you the young master of the head house?”

A petite old lady who emerged from the Japanese-styled room inside answered instead. It was the old lady who accompanied him on his first day. “He-hello,” Kuroba said, making a shy smile.

“You can’t come in from over there, so please go around to the front. Kimichika, won’t you get up if you’re not going to sulk in bed? You really are only getting taller and taller, and it is getting to be a bother. The measure on the porch won’t be enough before long.”

“What…”

Pulling off his headphones roughly, Haijima groaned in annoyance and got up.

“Haijima.”

When he called his name again, that back stiffened in surprise. He lowered his headphones to his neck, put on his glasses and turned around to him. There was an adhesive bandage pasted diagonally above his right eye and on his right temple. He got cut by the snow when Yorimichi knocked him down.

“…I’ll be right there.”

He didn’t look eager, but he said that and quietly got up.

“What are you saying? I told you to get out of the cold already.”

“So noisy, geez…”

Maybe his grandmother’s speech rubbed off on him, but there was a bit of dialect mixed into his words when he cursed in irritation. Just for a moment, he connected with the “Chika” Kuroba remembered in the same picture as this house in his mind.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

After he went around to the front and waited before the gate, Haijima came out, dressed as how he was earlier with just his bare feet stuffed in sneakers. When he gave him the printout of the practice days he was entrusted with, he only gave the weak reaction of “Aah…”, and then silence. He was the kind of guy who would never be unenthusiastic when it came to volleyball, but today he looked awfully lifeless. It was like at the moment he grabbed Yorimichi, some big circuit within his body got burned out.

He cleared his throat to shake off this awkward atmosphere and broke the ice.

“Um, you know, I’ve decided that I’m not gonna hang out with Yori-chan for a while, and I’ll make sure things won’t turn out like how you’re worried they will…Er, I think I’m starting to enjoy volleyball, and I wanna play it a bit more. So, don’t tell me to quit right now…”

Haijima raised his eyes from the printout. Due to the bandage, he seemed to have difficulties opening his right eye, making his expression look even worse than usual. His eyeballs lightly swam back and forth, like he was searching for the words he lost sight of. Is he lost? That’s rare.

“…Um, that thing.”

A mumble came from the tip of his pouting lips.

“Anything, after that…”

Haijima, who wasn’t supposed to have words like “mumbling” or “hemming and hawing” inputted in his head, was hesitating greatly to say something. From that…? Was he worrying about whether or not Kuroba knew the rest of Yorimichi’s story? That Haijima cared about someone’s reaction? Mm, this guy’s acting pretty weird today.

He purposely sighed hard. He didn’t want to see Haijima so beaten in and down like this. Well, the usual Haijima was troublesome in his own way.

“I’m telling you, I didn’t hear anything from Yori-chan, and I didn’t look you up at all.”

It was half a lie. He did try to look him up. But he couldn’t say that honestly in front of Haijima. Unlike him, he could even lie to avoid hurting the person right in front of him.

Haijima’s expression was still sullen. Does he not trust what I say that much?

“You know I hang around with Yori-chan, right? Grandpa and all our relatives have branded him as a big fool and gave up on him, but I know that he has his good points too. No matter what anyone says, I hang around with him because I like him. So, what I want to say is that it doesn’t matter to me what those Tokyo guys, whose faces or names I don’t even know, want to say about you. Why should I rely on what some guy far away says about you when you’re right in front of me?”

He was desperate to know what happened in Tokyo, but he just didn’t have the courage to press the “enter” key. Now that he thought about it, it wasn’t that he stopped halfway because he wasn’t brave enough; it was because he wasn’t brave enough that he tried to look him up.

“That’s why, I’ll make up my own judgement about you.”

His ears turned hot as he said something that was kind of awkward and clumsy. He was so embarrassed that his legs wanted to escape from that spot, and he bounced on his heels as he said it. His enamel bag swung behind his back. Did he get through to him? He was someone whose understanding of Japanese was quite worrying after all. He was curious as to what kind of face he would make. But he couldn’t look him straight in the eye.

Oh well, if I can see him tomorrow, that probably means it got through. Spring break is packed with club activities after all.

“So, see you at school tomorrow.”

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#2.43: Seiin Koukou Danshi Volley-bu #2.43 book 1 #2.43 translation

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steppedoffaflight · 4 years

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Summer’s a Knife - Chapter 2

Catch up on Chapter 1 here

You don’t respond, silence in the air as you both catch your breath.

“I’ve got no use for sex that sounds straight out of a porno.” Van lifts his head, and you flinch at the intensity in his eyes. “I’d rather it be fucking real. No bullshit. If you’re having a good time, sure, say it. But if you’re not, say that too.”

Almost three months later, Van McCann is back in L.A. and ready to take you up on that dinner date

Word count: ~15k

Chapter Two

April 2019

By the time you’ve pulled into the Whole Foods parking lot, having squeezed through afternoon traffic, you’re at your wits end. Work had consisted of eight tedious hours fixing someone else’s mistakes instead of working on your own projects, and you’re already dreading the hit your paycheck is about to take from this grocery shopping.

Your phone buzzes on the passenger seat next to you, no doubt Mary offering up some positivity in response to the giant work rant you’d just texted her. You already roll your eyes before you’ve picked up the phone and pressed your fingerprint to the sensor.

Hey. It’s Van x The gray bubble on your screen catches you off guard. You’d saved Van’s number months ago, his contact info at the top of the conversation reading “Van San Diego”. Thinking about how long ago your trip feels makes the whole thing seem even more surreal.

You gape at your screen for way too long, heart pounding, before you respond with a Hi!

After you’ve hit send, you panic over responding too fast. You let the car continue to run for the sake of air conditioning and you don’t let your screen lock, waiting anxiously for Van’s next message. When one doesn’t come after ten minutes you resign to cutting the ignition, finally facing the fact you’ve got shopping to do.

You can’t stop checking your phone as you roll your cart through the aisles, careful not to let your eyes wander to any items that aren’t on your list. You’re carefully examining the label on an overpriced pasta sauce when you hear the buzz of your phone against the cart. You almost drop the jar in your hand.

I know it’s been a while but I’m finally back in la. Still up for that dinner?

As you’re reading the indication that he’s typing starts, sending a shot of adrenaline through you.

No worries if not just let me know x

You screenshot his messages immediately and forward them to Mary for her opinion. Predictably, she hadn’t responded to your rant, but sends an OMG the second you show her the screenshot.

Have you messaged him back ?! she sends in response to your I knowww!!!

Nooo I don’t wanna look too eager you tap excitedly to her. You’re jolted back to reality when another cart suddenly bumps into yours.

“Sorry,” You apologize, quickly steering your cart away. You say it purely for the sake of politeness, even though you’re almost positive you weren’t in the way and the person could have rolled by without jostling all your things. All of your mundane worries are pushed to the back of your mind. You’re finally getting that promised dinner date with Van!

The rest of your shopping trip is as chaotic as your brain feels. Between lightning-fast exchanges with Mary about what you’ll say and when you’ll say it you haphazardly scrap together the rest of your list. You’re sure you’re forgetting something as you send it down the conveyor belt to the cashier, but you’re too frazzled to care. The only thing that matters at this point is getting home, cracking open the bottle of wine you’d purchased (on impulse, unfortunately) and accepting Van’s invitation.

And you do just that. Upon getting home you only put away your fresh items, leaving the rest to sit on the floor in their bags. It’s not the best practice, but it’s necessary after the day you’ve had. You pour a generous amount of wine into a regular glass, not caring enough to fish out a wine glass, and change out of your work wardrobe and into your most worn-in sweats. Only after you’ve plopped down onto the couch and taken a swallow of wine to calm your nerves do you allow yourself to respond: We could totally do dinner! When?

You feel slightly remorseful for leaving Van without a response for almost two hours. You chew the inside of your cheek as you berate yourself for it.

What works best for you? I’m here for the next two weeks and free most nights

You consider his response. Most of the time it feels like you’re the only person in L.A. that’s free most nights. Is he not the partying type? He seems like he would be, considering the way he went straight to the bar after his show in January.

Does tomorrow work? You send. It feels a bit off to schedule something so soon, but tomorrow’s Friday, and you wouldn’t have to worry about staying out late considering you’ve got no work Saturday. Plus, the longer you wait the more likely things are to be packed into Van’s schedule. And, you remind yourself, this dinner is more than two months in the making.

Another text from Van interrupts the churning thoughts in your head. Tomorrow’s ace, he says first, and then another message: I’ll pick you up followed by a third: What time?

You exchange a few more messages, setting up a time and making sure he has your address. Once the logistics are worked out, Van sends Look forward to it x and that feels like a good note to end the conversation on. You melt into your couch cushions and down the rest of your wine with a sigh.

If yesterday felt like a long workday, then today feels like it’s lasting an eternity.

You try to burn though time texting Mary, attempting to cut down on your getting ready time by verbally planning your outfit in advance. Still, the minutes seem to tick by at a snail’s pace. You try to get some work done and catch yourself repeatedly screwing up your spreadsheet with typos. Even triple-checking everything you enter doesn’t seem to eat up any time. You visit the water cooler too much, and pee repeatedly as a result. Eventually, somehow, you make it to 5, slinging your bag over your shoulder and murmuring quick goodbyes as you dash out of the office.

When you get home you’re laser focused. You tackle showering first, the task made longer with all of the shaving that needed to be done, followed by the slippery process of moisturizing every inch of your skin. It takes up more time than you’d like, but in San Diego you’d been completely unprepared for a hookup. This time you wanted to be ready.

Van sends a heading over text just as you’d finished blow drying and styling your hair. You get dressed, then, layering the outfit you and Mary had agreed on over a matching black lace bra and panty set. They were at the bottom of your underwear drawer, crumpled and forgotten, tags still intact. As you clip away the tags you hope out loud to yourself in the kitchen that they still fit, and sigh in relief when you’re able to shimmy the set on.

Maybe it’s the traffic, or maybe Van lied about when he was leaving, but by the time he texts that he’s arrived you’re waiting for him on the couch, having managed to get your makeup routine done just in time. The house is in complete disarray from your rush, and you cringe to yourself as you get a look at the tornado you’ve caused before you shut the door, locking it securely, and turning to seek out Van’s car.

There’s a black Range Rover pulled up on the street, the only car on the block running right now. You can see the dim blue light of Van’s phone screen through the tint of the windows, and as you approach you can see his silhouette.

He looks up when you tug open the car door, sliding into the front passenger seat.

You’re pleased when his face lights up. A part of you had almost been expecting that he’d rethink his attraction to you now that there was no post-show adrenaline or late night beers to cloud his judgement.

“Hello,” He laughs, “Long time no see!”

He’s just as charismatic as you remember him, your nerves easing as you make yourself comfortable. The crisp lace underneath your clothes is stiff and itchy, and you wiggle around as discretely as possible.

“Hey,” You greet him. “It feels like it’s been forever.”

Van nods, kicking the car into gear. “You’re telling me. Been a busy couple months.”

You hum in sympathy even if you can’t relate. Your busiest times of the year were summer- when most of your coworkers went on extended vacations and you were responsible for making up their work- and the holidays, when you had to coordinate trips home to see your family.

“You look amazing, by the way,” Van says, managing a quick glance over at you with a smile.

“Aw, thanks,” You murmur, chronically awkward at receiving compliments. “You look great, too.”

“Ah, stop. Makin’ me blush, love,” he jokes, and you can’t help but giggle at his sarcasm. It’s strange how familiar he feels, the result of just one night.

“So.” You peer out of the windows, looking for any hint of where you were headed. “What do you have planned?”

“Got a reservation for eight at this really nice place, dunno if you’ve ever heard of it.” Van stumbles over some sort of French pronunciation. “We’ve had a couple of dinners there with label people and it’s always class.”

“Sounds lovely,” You tell him. You’ve never heard of the place, but then again your Los Angeles friend group was lacking any musicians making a big break, let alone getting invited to dinner with Capitol Records staff. “Never heard of it.”

“You’ll like it,” Van says confidently.

You glance over at the clock on the dashboard display. It’s set to 24-hour time, so you pick up your phone instead of mentally trying to calculate it.

“How far away is it?” You ask nervously. It’s dangerously close to eight.

“Not too far,” Van shrugs, but he’s driving into the tail end of stop-and-go traffic. You try to swallow down your anxiety.

Finding a parking spot is a pain in the ass, but eventually Van’s maneuvered his car into one of the parallel spots lining the sidewalk.

By the time you two are out of the car, crossing the street to the restaurant, it’s almost ten minutes after your reservation time. Van seems oblivious to this, breezily strutting into the place, holding the door for you as usual. He’s whistling absentmindedly, and you wonder if it’s one of his own songs. He keeps whistling until you two approach the podium in the lobby.

“Reservation name?” The hostess asks, turning the pages in the binder in front of her.

“McCann.”

The hostess takes a second to look over her pages before she motions. “Right this way.”

There’s no mention of the fact you guys are late as she opens a door on the wall behind the podium, leading you two into the dining area. It’s a stark contrast from the drab, dim decor of the small lobby area. The floors are glossy white, almost shiny enough to reflect your face back to you, and although there are some larger tables most of them are the quintessential small, circular two-seaters with silky white tablecloths draped over them. The walls are dark in typical L.A. style, but covered in windows that frame the courtyard outside, lanterns glowing and candlelit outdoor tables visible.

Almost everyone is in black tie attire, and you feel self-consciousness broil in your stomach as the hostess leads you and Van to to your own small table. You’re curious if there’s other celebrities here, but you’re too afraid of looking like an outsider by trying to peek at people as you pass by. You keep your eyes on the back of Van’s head instead, examining where his hair parts on his scalp.

You’re waved to your assigned table with the assurance that someone will be with you shortly before the hostess sees herself back to the front room. In the time you’ve paused to listen to her words Van’s already ahead of you, pulling out one of the covered chairs and motioning for you to sit.

“You know you don’t have to do that,” You tell him as you sit in the seat he’s designated for you. He takes his own seat opposite you.

“Does it offend you?” Van asks, and you watch his brow crease in concern.

“No!” You’re quick to assure him. “I’m not offended, or anything like that. I’m just saying, I won’t tell everyone this was the worst date of my life just because you didn’t pull the chair out or hold the door.”

Van laughs, the worry easing out of his expression. “S’ just a force of habit. It’s more trouble for me to stop at this point in my life than it is to just keep doing it.”

You nod in understanding before reaching for the menu and searching for the drinks.

“Do you know what you’re drinking?” Van asks after a small stretch of silence where you’re both looking at your respective menus.

“What are you drinking?” You answer his question with a question, eager to be able to gauge the most appropriate choice for yourself. The drink menu is long and most of the items seem hard to pronounce, and despite knowing Van intimately you’ve still got first date jitters. Not to mention, you were on a budget.

“I usually get this wine,” Van tells you, using his index finger to point it out for you on your menu. “M’not gonna drink too much considering I’m drivin’, but it goes great with the lobster.”

You hum as you read over the tiny italics font describing the wine. “Sounds good,” You say finally, “I’ll have it with you.”

“I’ll get us a bottle, then.”

You swallow hard when you read the price listed for the entire bottle, but manage to stifle any worries. You’ve waited 3 months for this date, there can’t be any real harm in one luxurious dinner. And the cost of the bottle divided into two wasn’t so outrageous.

“Perfect.” You close your menu, decision made.

By the time the server has taken your wine order, returned with chilled glasses and doled out servings to each of you, and delivered a fresh bread basket and dinner menus, your stomach is grumbling and you’re eager to scour through the menu and figure out what you’re having.

“God, I’m starving,” You sigh, buttering a warm bread roll. In your ravenous state you bite off more than you can politely chew, but thankfully Van doesn’t notice as he’s taking a peek at his phone.

“Same.” He was listening even in his distracted state, and as soon as he sets his phone back down he reaches for his own roll.

“So…” You start, flipping open your menu to (surprise) even more expensive, french-titled meals. “What’s good here?”

“The lobster,” Van laughs. “It’s the only thing I’ve had here. Had it once and kept craving it forever.”

He must be able to sense that answer doesn’t satisfy you, because he opens his own menu. “Bondy loves the roast. Says it’s one of the best he’s ever had.”

“Not a huge fan of roast,” You tell Van, but flip the pages until you find the meal he’s talking about. “Who’s Bondy?” The name sounds familiar, and in your head you replay the encounter you had outside of Van’s hotel room in San Diego. Was Bondy the one stuck behind the luggage?

“Johnny Bond, he’s our guitar player. Goes by Bondy.”

“Ah. Who’s the one with the…?” You trail off, but motion with your hands around your head to convey the thick head of curls you remember from that night.

“That’s Benji. Our bassist.”

“Benji,” You repeat quietly to yourself. The name doesn’t ring a bell, but the hair does.

“He likes the roast chicken,” Van suggests. “But he’s not allowed to say it’s the best because my mum makes a mean roast chicken and it’s deffo the best.”

“That sounds good. I’m gonna get that.” You try not to openly cringe at the price.

Van opens his mouth to speak, but from the way he’s looking over your shoulder you know the server’s returned to take down your orders.

“There’s Bob, too,” Van says unprovoked when you two are alone again. “He’s easy to pick out. Wears glasses.”

Your brain can connect the dots there: A man with glasses hidden away behind a drumset in the few photos you’d seen on google.

“Is he drums?” You’re hesitant in case you’re wrong, but Van perks up so you know you’ve got it right.

“He is.” Van takes a drink from his wine glass.

There’s a pause in conversation. You try to wrack your brain for a topic, but your knowledge of his band is shaky and not trivia-proof.

“Are you guys close?” Seems like a safe enough question to ask.

“Me ‘n Bob?”

“Everyone,” You elaborate, lacing your fingers together. “Are you guys, like, at each other’s throats?”

“Nah. They’re my best mates. I’ve known Bob and Benji since we were younger, in school. Used to play on the same footie team and all’a that. Bondy didn’t come into the picture until we were a bit older but I’d heard of him before. Thought he was crazy talented, couldn’t believe he actually wanted to join us. Everyone’s massively talented, really. Wouldn’t be the same without them.”

You drink in the reverence in his voice as he talks about his friends.

“I was just with ‘em today, actually. Been at the studio for most of the day.”

“Well, that’s good that you guys get along.” You offer him a smile which he returns.

“You’re telling me. Couldn’t imagine if things went sour. Having fights over guitar riffs and drumbeats all day.”

You try to picture Van angry and fail. “What do you do in the studio?”

“We’re putting the finishing touches on our next album. It’s due out at the end of the month.”

“Oh, no way!” Your eyes widen in interest. “That’s really cool.”

Van grins. “Yeah, proper excited. Think it’s our best one yet.”

“So is that how you ended up in L.A.? Music?” As much as you’re trying to get a feel for Van, L.A. seems like the last place on earth he’d enjoy living. Considering his lack of social media presence or desire to pressure others into buying sponsored products, and the fact that the band definitely seems more popular in the U.K. than America, you can’t quite put a finger on his motives.

“Yeah. I lived in New York for a bit, when we first got signed, but ended up moving down here. L.A. is sort of the hub for the business end. I spend a good bit of time in London, but the weather down here is nice.”

“So nice,” You agree. The constant summer is worlds different than the unpredictable midwest climate you were raised in.

“Right?” Van beams. “We just spent a while at this place in Ireland, writing and doing most of the recording. And it was just absolute pouring rain everyday. So once we got outta there we thought why not enjoy some time in the sun?”

You chuckle in agreement, taking the first drink of your wine. It tastes better than you were anticipating, and the pleasant surprise must show on your face.

“It’s good, innit?” Van takes his own sip. “Not much of a wine guy, but this stuff…” He trails off, nodding in approval. “Anyway, enough about me. Been droning on for ages. You said you weren’t from L.A., right? How’d you end up here?”

It’s your turn to be interrupted by the server with fresh, hot meals in tow. There’s the momentary fuss of getting situated with food in front of you, and by the time you guys are settled again the question has slipped away as you two dig into your food.

“This is amazing,” You affirm after your first hot forkful of chicken and roasted vegetables. “Who said this was amazing? They were right.”

“Blakes,” Van replies through a mouthful of lobster.

“Blakes?” You stop your fork midair. “Who’s Blakes?”

Van is still chewing his food, so you hurry up and eat the piece of potato speared on your fork.

“Benji,” Van clarifies after he swallows. “Benji is Blakes.” He coughs around a sip of his drink when he must see the confusion on your face.

“His name is Benji Blakeway. Blakes is his nickname.”

The name attaches itself to the memory in your head. The c’mon, Blakes, from the guy in the hat rings through your mind.

“Who wears the hat?” You try to get the last puzzle piece in place. You’ve seen whoever it is on google, always wearing the same flat cap.

“Bondy.”

“Okay. So you, Bob, Bondy, Benji.”

Van nods, looking pleased, and you feel a sense of satisfaction spread through you.

“I forgot,” Van says suddenly, “You were just about to tell me how you ended up in L.A.”

“Oh, right.” You look down at your food. “Full disclosure, it’s really lame.”

When you look up, Van’s put his fork down, prepared to listen fully.

You have some wine to calm your nerves. You’ve finished your glass, so you procrastinate by pouring yourself some more.

“It’s just… really childish and impulsive.”

Van laughs. “You’re only making me more interested!”

You huff out a laugh at that. “So… I guess it all started in high school. Which I went to in Michigan, by the way. It’s um,” You gesture with your hand, “It’s the state that looks like a mitten. Close to Canada. Anyway, I had this boyfriend in high school, and senior year he broke up with me.” You laugh at yourself, bringing a hand to your forehead for a moment. “God, this sounds so dramatic. But when you’re in high school you think you’re going to last forever with someone, your first love and all that, y’know.”

Van seems amused. “How old were you?”

“Well I was like…” You scrunch your face up, thinking back, “14 when we first met, and we were close friends for a while, and then 15 when we actually started dating, and 18 when we broke up.”

“Right,” You plow on, “So, first love and all that good stuff. So we break up when we were 18, which honestly needed to happen. We just didn’t get along anymore but we were so comfortable being a couple by then, you know? We were different as adults, so naturally we break up, whatever. The point is I was fucking devastated.”

You take a deep breath, another drink, and try to prepare yourself to tell the rest of the story.

“So my best friend and I had always had it in our heads, I don’t even know why, that we wanted to come to L.A.”

“Mary?” Van cuts in.

“No, not Mary. I met Mary once I moved here.” You clear your throat, getting back on topic. “I think it’s because of the weather, honestly,” You laugh at your immaturity at that age. “We were so tired of Michigan winters. They’re fucking… cold. And my friend can sing, so naturally we’re thinking you get into L.A. and boom, you’re discovered.”

You gauge Van’s attention then. He’s still listening close.

“So after high school, we had both been saving up for what we thought was this imaginary sort of dream, but then I was broken up with, and depressed, and I kept seeing him everywhere because our town was kind of small, and so we decided… Let’s just pack up and leave!”

Van’s lips quirk up at that. “I was always the same way,” He interjects softly. “Small town thing. Your parents didn’t mind?”

“Well, I convinced them that UCLA was my dream school. So of course they couldn’t say much because I ended up being accepted into a really amazing school, and they had heard me talk about L.A. before. So we get here, and… y’know… Things just didn’t work out that way.”

“When do they ever?” Van jokes.

You nod in agreement around a quick bite of chicken. “Exactly!” You say, wiping the corners of your mouth with your napkin. “It costed so fucking much to live here, and we burned through our savings really fast, and… We ended up becoming even closer through that and we dated for a couple years, and I invested a lot of time into trying to get her discovered because we couldn’t afford rent, but then she got into the wrong group and was getting into cocaine, it was… Intense.”

Your palms are sweating from your admission, and you can’t get yourself to look Van in the eyes, heart racing.

“So… yeah. Thankfully I’ve made a lot of friends here- the right kind, not the cocaine kind- and I got a really nice internship through UCLA and found an okay job, and me and her went our separate ways. And that’s when I met Mary, and she grew up here so she was able to show me around, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.”

You can feel anxiety clenching in your chest while your admitted interest in women still hangs in the air. You wish it still wasn’t so nerve-wracking to come out, and maybe it wouldn’t be except for the fact you and Van seem to really hit it off, and you would hate for this to be a dealbreaker for him.

You finally manage to look away from where you’d been carefully inspecting a small stain you’d made on the tablecloth. Van’s leaned back from his plate, an easy smile spread over his face. His arms are crossed across his chest as he marvels at you.

“We’ve got more in common than I thought,” He says grinning. “We can both discuss our ex-girlfriends. Cheers.”

He reaches for his wine glass and you reach for yours too. If Van notices how your wine is trembling from the hand holding the glass, he doesn’t call out as you two clink your glasses together, relief starting to seep through you.

“I love that,” He remarks, still beaming. “Proper ‘escape the small town’ story. I wish mine was as interesting as yours.”

“You do not,” You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Yours is better! You ended up actually getting discovered.”

“Lots of hard work, that’s all.” Van shrugs.

Van tells a few lighthearted stories about struggling to get discovered while you guys finish up your meals. True to his word, he stays light on the wine in preparation to drive, spacing out only two glasses the whole time you’ve been here. You’re not sure how many you’ve had, but you figure it can’t be that many. The only telltale signs that let you know you’ve got alcohol in your system are the flush in your cheeks, the way the lights seem to shine a bit softer, and the way you can feel your eyes drifting over Van dreamily.

When the waitress brings the check Van reaches for his back pocket immediately, procuring a card from his wallet.

“You didn’t have to do that,” You say, your eyes widening in shock. “I was gonna pay for mine.” The cost of the entire bottle of wine, combined with both of your dinners floats in your mind.

One side of Van’s mouth lifts in a confused half-smile. “I said I was taking you out for dinner, didn’t I? Dunno if it means the same thing here, but if I’m taking you out why would you pay?”

“I mean, I just… Didn’t want to assume, I guess.” It’s burned you before, dates gone wrong where the check gets split by surprise. “It’s happened before.”

Van snorts. “Sounds fucking awful.”

You nod, eyes wide. “It really was.”

Your mind flips through a few of your worst dates, interrupted only by Van’s card being returned, you two sent on your way.

Van starts humming when you two meander out of the restaurant and across the street to his car, sidling into the front seats.

“Should I take you back to yours?” He asks as he gets the car started. “Or we could go back to mine. Watch a film or somethin’.”

There’s silence in the car while Van checks his phone. You decide to look at yours, too, checking the time. The night is still young.

“Back to yours sounds nice.” The wine makes your voice soft, betrays the way your heart skips at the suggestion.

Van licks his lips, still typing something. He looks up finally. “Mine?”

“Yeah.”

He gets the car into gear, pulling out of the parking space. With a few taps on a screen in the center of the dashboard his phone is connected by bluetooth and music rings out through the car. You recognize it as the song he was humming minutes ago.

You drive in silence for most of the ride, all talked out from dinner, but your interest piques when Van turns the music down.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” You say nervously. Your head tries to predict what’s coming next.

“The thing, with you and your ex. Was it a one time sort of deal? Or do you still play for both teams?”

You chew the inside of your cheek. “I still play for both. I’m bisexual.”

“Got it.”

“Why?” You feel yourself bristle. “Is it a problem?”

“Not at all,” Van shrugs, slowly turning the music back up. “Just wasn’t sure what to call it.”

It takes about a half hour to get to Van’s, a journey that includes weaving through a winding, uphill street crammed with upscale homes. Van’s home is in a cluster at the top of the hill, and typing in the gate code reveals a long driveway up to a house surrounded by a tall thicket of bamboo.

“I love the bamboo,” You tell him as he pulls the car in front of the garage, but doesn’t bother to park it inside. “The worst part of living here is feeling like your neighbors are breathing down your neck.” When you step out of the car you soak the privacy in. You could easily be murdered with this level of seclusion, but the fact that you can still hear the bustling sounds of the city and a dog in the neighbor’s yard is reassuring.

“Totally agree,” Van tells you, jingling his keys, “It’s most of the reason I chose this place. Can sunbathe totally naked and not feel like everyone’s watching me.”

Although Van delivers the joke completely deadpan, you burst into laughter, and in the soft glow of the porch light you can see him smile.

“M’not kidding!” He insists, pointing a finger towards the sky as he gets the door unlocked, letting you in first. “There’s a patio upstairs perfect for getting some sun.”

Inside, his house is decorated eerily similar to the restaurant you’d just been at, with glossy white floors, dark painted walls, and soft lamplight.

“I’m gonna grab a beer,” Van says as he locks the front door and sets his keys on a small end table that’s covered in unopened mail. “You want anything?”

You think for a moment. “What do you have?”

“No idea, honestly,” Van snorts. He starts walking through the living room and you follow behind. He turns the corner to a dining area that looks pristine and untouched, and around another corner is the kitchen, all windows and clean appliances and glossy countertops. The only indications that anyone’s been in there are the few dirty dishes in the sink, the amazon prime packaging scattered on the kitchen island, and more than one unfinished mug of tea sitting on different surfaces.

The windows in the kitchen look out into the backyard, where you marvel at the sparkling blue in-ground pool and what looks like a hot tub.

The sound of the fridge opening tears your eyes away from the windows.

“I’ve got, uh,” Van holds the fridge door open wide, the sound of glass clinking as he pulls a bottle of beer from one of the side pockets. “Some Coke, Dr. Pepper, lemonade…” He lets go of the door to pick up a bottle of orange juice, which he inspects carefully. “Some orange juice. Dunno if it’s good, but if you wanted to risk it be my guest.” He offers you a sheepish smile. “Haven’t made it to the shop in forever.”

“Coke’s good,” You tell him, and he sets one of the red cans on the island.

Van shuts the fridge. “Do you want ice?”

“Nah,” You shrug him off, “The can is fine.”

You use the tab to crack open your can while Van rustles through a drawer until he can find a bottle opener, getting his beer open. You two gravitate back to the living room, Van taking a seat on the dark, plush sectional in the center of the room.

He sets his beer down on the coffee table, no coaster in sight, before shucking his shoes off and stretching his long legs across the short end of the L shape.

Taking your own shoes off buys you a moment of contemplation before you decide to sit down next to where he’s stretched out. There’s no space for you to stretch your legs out, but you’re comfortable folding them up on the couch with you, getting comfortable cross legged while Van procures the remote from somewhere, starting the TV up.

“Look at the moon,” You marvel quietly. The living room features an entire glass wall that leads to an outdoor patio, the moon and stars sending a white shimmering glow over the furniture.

Van doesn’t say anything, but when you turn your head to glance over at him he’s admiring it too before he meets your gaze. He still doesn’t speak, the moment doused in comfortable silence.

“Can I use this?” You ask him suddenly, your hand landing on a folded up blanket a few cushions away.

“Course.”

You unravel the blanket and lay it over your lap while Van gets Netflix going.

“What do you wanna watch?” He asks when prompted to pick a profile. There are only two on the screen; Van and mary. You smile to yourself at the fact he shares an account with his mom as he clicks his.

“Um,” You look over the options on the screen. “Are you in the middle of anything?”

“Not really. Caught up on just about everything in Ireland.”

Van starts absentmindedly flipping through the trending now category, previews playing automatically.

“Have you seen that?” You ask when he hovers over one of the titles. “I heard it’s supposed to be really, really good.”

Van lets the trailer play out, detailing what looks to be a plot about infatuation and stalking. You can tell you’re both interested by the silence that falls over you.

“Sound good?” Van gets up to switch the lights off. The room is shrouded in darkness, Netflix lighting up his silhouette as he gets settled on the couch again.

“Yeah,” You nod, “Let’s see if it lives up to the hype.”

You’re all too aware of your proximity to Van as the show starts. You can’t look over at him without him noticing considering it requires you to turn your head, but you can’t help but feel like you can sense his eyes on you. The result is you spending the first half sitting stiff as a board, paralyzed.

But the show lives up to it’s viral social media hype, and you soon become so engrossed that without really realizing it you’ve stretched your legs down the long side of the couch, your head coming to rest on the cushion you had been sitting on. Van passes you one of the throw pillows he’s been hogging, and when you elevate your head you’re so close you can hear his breathing.

The longer you watch, the more convinced you start to become that this date was all an elaborate plan devised by Van to kill you, and that he really did stalk you months ago in San Diego. Your mind wanders for two seconds, contemplating your current position on a stranger’s sofa, and suddenly the plot has taken a twist and the main character is having sex.

It’s almost like watching a sex scene with your parents in the room, although Van is anything but. You cringe as breathy moans ring out through the surround sound and you’re forced to watch a trainwreck of a scene where the the girl is getting fucked, hard, with her windows open, the stalker watching from the bushes across the street. It’s over quick, the character’s on-again-off-again boyfriend leaving as soon as the deed is done, but to your horror the scene only gets worse as the girl starts to hump a throw pillow in compensation for the orgasm she didn’t receive from her boyfriend, all the while the stalker starts jerking off in the bushes.

“Oh God,” You groan, turning your face to bury it in the throw pillow. “I literally can’t watch!”

Van chuckles as you listen to the rest of the scene play out.

“You’re missing it.” You can hear the delight in Van’s voice. “He’s about to blow his load right there on the street.”

“I wanna miss it,” You tell him, but still turn your head to peek at the screen. “Fucking creep.”

The ending of the scene is a crescendo of orgasms and moaning, the actress for the main character really laying it on porn-style for her big finale, while the stalker is abruptly interrupted by an oblivious woman asking him to hold the door, his orgasm incomplete.

“That was fucking creepy,” Van agrees. The episode isn’t done yet, but you can tell neither of you are paying attention to the remaining plot.

“Those windows are freaking me out,” You whine, gesturing to the windows that had previously brought you the view of the night sky, but that you’re now convinced have someone peeping through them.

Van heaves himself off of the couch. Before you can question him he’s crossed the room, pulling giant sheets of blinds down over the windows.

You sigh in relief, but it’s short lived. “But what if you’re the stalker?” You narrow your eyes at Van, who’s looking down at you as he heads back to his seat.

“I’m quite daft, then. Spending all this money on a wine-and-dine when I could’ve been outside your bedroom window for free.”

You make an exaggerated retching noise. Van laughs.

There’s a beat of silence, and then: “Is it really like that?”

You turn your head to peer up at him, propping your chin up on the overstuffed pillow. “Like what?”

“Like she did,” Van gestures towards the screen, “Where you fake it, and then the lad leaves, and you go back at it again.”

You frown as you ponder his question. “I’m sure for some girls it’s not.” Van’s eyes are trained on you, hanging onto your every word. “But as far as I know it usually goes something like that.”

“Pillow humping optional,” You add. “You can use your hand. Personally, I use a vibrator. Or the mood passes and you just go to sleep.”

You don’t know where this burst of boldness to talk about your sex life so openly came from, but Van looks a bit panicked as a result of it.

“And when we…” Van’s voice is low, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, his brows knitting together. “Did you…”

“That was genuine,” You reassure him, watching the relief wash over his face.

Van makes a noise in the back of his throat. “But you have? Before?”

“Faked it?”

Van nods.

It’s your turn to swallow. “Yeah. I have. Not with you. But yeah.”

“How, though?” Van scratches the back of his neck. “Y’know when you watch porn or somethin’ like that, you can tell they’re playing it up.”

You can feel a mischievous smile stretching across your face. “You sound curious.”

“I mean, kinda, yeah. And it’d be good to know. So you can’t fool me.” He offers a sheepish smile at his own joke.

“That would imply you need fooling,” You point out, your voice quiet. There’s no real need to whisper, but the heavy feeling of attraction that’s suddenly pressing down on you keeps you from speaking full volume, especially considering your proximity to Van.

Van doesn’t speak, only holds your gaze. He’s got the same look in his eye that he did outside of the hotel that night when he was openly checking you out. You do your best to match it, your mind quickly wrapping around a plan. Now was as good a time as any other to make your move.

“Well, I mean,” You break his gaze, looking around the room instead. “It ruins the magic if you know it’s fake.” You give an exaggerated sigh. “But for you, I’ll make an exception.”

You sit yourself upright, Van carefully watching your every move.

“We gotta set the scene, though,” You tell him, standing up from the couch and wriggling your pants down your legs. “Get yours off too,” You tell him.

Van doesn’t question it, getting down to his briefs and peeling off his socks after he watches you take off your own.

You originally planned to keep your shirt on, to leave something to Van’s imagination, but you catch him admiring your black lace underwear and can’t resist revealing the rest of the matching set.

“Just want it to feel as real as possible,” You’re as nonchalant as possible, your voice the only sound in the quiet room. You realize then that Van’s muted the TV.

“Right,” Van agrees, fumbling with the buttons lining the front of his shirt. There’s no other layers underneath, so he’s shirtless in no time. “Now what?”

You pretend to think about it only to drag his anticipation out a few moments longer. While you torment him your eyes drag up and down his body, drinking in the familiar sight.

“Say we’re doing something like this,” You murmur, stepping over to where he’s still stretched out. You slide a leg over his waist, and with the soft slide of skin and fabric you’re settled on his lap, mimicking a riding position. He’s hard in his underwear, pressing against you through the cotton of his underwear and the lace of yours.

“Like I’m riding you,” You clarify, shifting in Van’s lap. You feel him tense up beneath you.

“Put your hands here,” You prompt him, gently grabbing his wrists and bringing them to rest on your sides. His hands feel hesitant to make contact with you at first, but at your encouragement he holds onto your sides firmly.

“Now, the first step is build up.” Your voice stays low, like you’re trading secrets with him. “It’s not gonna be realistic without warning. Gotta spend some time doing something like this…” Without further ado you’re grinding against him through your underwear, his fingertips pressing into your flesh.

It’s been way too long since you’ve had the experience of feeling someone’s solid, warm body beneath you, since you’ve felt someone want you so bad. Your first couple of breathy moans don’t even feel fake as you relish in the warm friction, losing control for a beat when your hips jerk on their own accord. “Van, fuck.”

His fingers squeeze you.

“Yeah, like that.” You piggyback off of his enthusiasm. You let your hips apply more pressure to his, but as good as it feels there’s no dry humping that could soothe your ache. Van doesn’t have to know that, though, and you let another desperate sounding noise come up from the back of your throat. Van’s thighs twitch beneath you.

You had been holding onto Van’s waist to balance yourself, but suddenly you move one of your palms to his side and feel him jolt. You look at him then, your face contorting into a look of mild surprise.

“I’m close.” You say it as if you were caught off guard. Van looks like an even mix of seduced and stunned, and the way he’s looking at you makes you close your eyes, scrunch your face up. “I’m, uh,” You pant, “I’m gonna-”

Before you can get to the grand finale your body is knocked off balance, suddenly becoming pressed into the soft cushions.

“Fucking stop,” Van sounds pained as he kisses you, hard. Your body melts into the couch, the sweet and rare feeling of a plan going perfectly warming your body from the inside out. You moan into the kiss.

“I take it back,” He tells you before another bruising kiss. “I don’t wanna know what it sounds like.”

“How are you gonna know?” You push out between genuine gasps for air as Van starts kissing your neck. You arch into it.

“Tell me the truth,” He begs, resting his forehead against your shoulder. You can feel how clammy he is. “Please. Save that stuff for someone else. Tell me the truth.”

You don’t respond, silence in the air as you both catch your breath.

It’s a rather serious take on something you’d thought was lighthearted. You’d never thought twice about faking orgasms. As far as you knew it was quite customary. You’d always figured the amount of times you’d done it had been on the lighter side, too. It’s not like you’d never had one, a fate some women seemed doomed to. But the way Van’s looking at you gives a sudden gravity to your actions.

“No bullshit,” You say firmly. You unwedge one of your hands from where it’s been pressed into the crack of the sofa, and offer Van your pinky.

Van’s intensity breaks as he smiles at the gesture. There’s a shift in his weight before he can get a hand free to loop his pinky finger with yours. “No bullshit.”

Then he’s kissing you again, your head forced back against the cushions of the couch, paralyzed between the furniture and his body. He tastes like the beer he’s been drinking and the butter he’d drenched his lobster in. It should be a bad combination, but it’s so uniquely Van you can’t complain. Not to mention he’s still at the top of your makeout leaderboard, a realization that brings your fingers into his hair.

“Show me your room,” You tell him when you break apart for air.

“It’s two floors up,” Van groans. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” You laugh at his hesitation to roll off of you.

“There’s a guest bedroom right there.” Van nods toward the end of the hall past the front door.

You consider for a moment. “With windows?” You ask finally. When Van nods, you crinkle your nose in distaste.

“Your room,” You insist, and he finally climbs off of you. As he clicks the TV off you make the sudden decision to grab for the throw blanket you’d been using, wrapping it around your body as if it was a towel.

“What?” You ask when you notice him staring at you in amusement. “It’s fucking cold in here. Don’t suppose you want me to put more clothes on.”

“Deffo not,” Van agrees, and leads the trek up the stairs.

Van’s bedroom is average size, a fact which catches you off guard. You hadn’t known what to expect based on the rest of the house, but besides the giant glass windows that panel the wall the bed faces (which Van covers immediately), and the luxurious attached bathroom, his room is quite ordinary. There’s a suitcase resting open on the floor, and Van has to move an acoustic guitar that was resting on the bed, but otherwise things seem clean. There’s an overfilled hamper in the corner, but you were pleased he owned a hamper at all.

As soon as the guitar is moved you join Van in getting under the covers, shedding your makeshift robe on the floor. The transition back into making out is seamless.

“I can show you for real,” You whisper, surprised to find your bold streak hasn’t run out.

Van makes what sounds like a confused noise in the back of his throat, his lips consumed with being pressed against yours, but as soon as you hook a leg over his waist and start shifting him onto his back he gets the hint.

“You want me to?” You ask him softly, although you’ve got a good feeling you already know the answer.

“Shit,” Van hisses when you slip a hand into his underwear, easing his dick out. “Yeah.”

It’s your first time getting a hand around him properly, and you relish in the weight of him against your palm, the way the head of him is already swollen, peeking out of his foreskin. You give him a few experimental tugs, only to be encouraged by a groan. As much as you want to continue, his briefs are getting in the way.

There’s a bit of clamoring while you two undress fully, but it doesn’t dampen the mood in the slightest.

“That’s better,” You murmur when you’re seated back on his thighs, hand wrapped around him again. You know you should stop, considering you’ve been teasing him for a while already, but the control you’ve got over him is too intoxicating, watching him clench and groan as you experiment with different strokes.

“Where do you keep the condoms?” You ask after keeping the pace with relentless, quick tugs until you felt like he was ready. The only sound in the room is the soft noise of his foreskin sliding over him, but it feels like it echoes.

“There,” Van pants, throwing his arm in a gesture towards one of the bedside tables. You shift slightly off of his lap, your clit pressing against the soft skin of his hip while you dig through the top drawer. The only light in the room is from the soft glow of the city against the blinds, but it’s just enough for you to be able to locate a foil packet before handing it off to Van.

After the ripping of the wrapper, the room falls silent except for the harsh noise of breathing. Van’s hands bump against you clumsily while he gets himself wrapped, and you try to match your breathing to his slow, deep breaths. You sound more worked up than him, your anxiety making your breaths shallow and harsh.

Van brushes one of his hands against your thigh while he withdraws his hands, signaling he’s done.

This time when you slip a hand around him you’re gentle, careful not to disturb the thin layer of latex you can feel stretched over him. “Ready?”

You’re already shifting into position, rearing up onto your knees and maneuvering above him. Waiting for the green light.

“Yeah,” Van chuckles. “Let’s have it.”

The room goes quiet again, Van waiting with baited breath as you position him. You swallow hard, trying to soothe the fluttering in your stomach as you start to lower down on him.

It’s unceremonious, a hushed and slow process. There’s no dramatic sinking down like there is in porn, no loud screams of pleasure. It’s a slow stretch as your body accommodates him, an active effort to keep your balance as you make small shifts to try different angles. There’s the occasional sharp breath, but you’re not sure if it’s from Van or if you’re doing it without meaning to.

There’s a collective sigh of relief when you’re fully seated, your thighs trembling against his from the stretch. You’re terribly out of practice with this, and you’re mentally kicking your past self for her confidence while your anxiety starts to prepare you for Van’s disappointment.

Your nerves and self-consciousness mix together to form a hot flush on your face, one you’re grateful Van can’t see. You make a last-ditch effort for a deep breath before you shift your hips, preparing to proceed.

You’d forgotten how good this was. Or maybe it wasn’t actually ever this good; maybe it’s just Van. But as soon as you get a pace going any nerves melt away, replaced instead with electricity that buzzes down your spine, through your hips. It zings it’s way across your thighs, making any discomfort worth it as you make sure to lower yourself completely every single time, feeling yourself fill up.

Van’s got a white knuckle grip on the sheets, but you’re barely noticing his reactions. It’s like you’re possessed, your body moving without your control as you chase the feeling. What feeling exactly, you’re not sure; there’s the friction of him sliding in and out of you, the feeling of fullness that punches you in the gut every time you lower down, and the white-hot spots you can get him to hit depending on the angle. They all mix together, heat and tingling and sparks that have you hunched over, hands pressed into his chest, your hips erratic.

Your thighs start to fail you, and when the ache becomes unbearable you settle for staying seated, keeping him fully inside of you as you shift around, feeling him rub against your walls. You clench experimentally, just to see if there’s a way to get him deeper, closer.

You’re only jolted from your own thoughts at the sound of Van moaning. It’s loud, the volume paired with the vulnerability of the sound startling you.

You look down at him then. He’s got his forearm thrown over his eyes, and his hair’s a mess against the mattress, having pushed the pillows awry without you noticing. His mouth opens, lips forming a silent shape before he finally chokes the word out: “Stop.”

His other hand is pressed against your thigh, although you don’t remember it being there. His fingers dig into your skin. “Stop,” He says again, voice strained.

Your hips slow, any pleasure in your entire body fizzling away in half of a second. Your self consciousness comes crashing down over you in one suffocating wave as you hold completely still, confused.

You must’ve fucked up. Must’ve read the situation wrong, not realized that Van wasn’t into it. Must’ve heard his moan wrong. Must’ve missed something important. You feel the sweat that’d been developing on your forehead go cold as you mentally search for your fatal mistake.

“Is something wrong?” You ask hesitantly. You’re still frozen, careful not to move a muscle while you await Van’s response.

“No,” Van chokes out. He lifts his arm from where it’s obscuring his face, running his hand through his hair instead. You can see his bicep flex as he pulls his own hair by the crown of his head. “You’re incredible, fuck. I can’t fucking stand this anymore. Switch me.”

His praise delivers an instant wave of relief, one that has you beaming down at him. He returns the smile weakly as you unseat yourself, plopping down on the soft mattress while he scrambles into the new position.

“Scared the shit out of me.” You don’t know why you admit it. Maybe your brain is too foggy for censors. “Thought I was doing horrible.”

“Nah, fuck that.” Van’s lining up again. “Could just feel you getting tired. Figured I could return the favor.”

He takes your cue from the way you open your thighs wider, shift your hips up to meet him. He slides in easily, and as the shock of the interruption fades away you can feel your orgasm coming back to the surface, just as strong as it’d been previously.

Van takes his favor-returning duties seriously, fucking you with all he’s got. It’s different from last time. You’ve already set the rules and he follows them meticulously: sudden thrusts in, followed by a torturous pause so you can fully appreciate him inside of you before a long, slow withdraw where you can feel every inch of him. It’s too much and not enough at the same time, and when you’re on the brink you haul him in with a hand on his jaw for a kiss, gasping for air against his open mouth.

Van comes first despite his heroic efforts to hold off. Your only warning is a few moments of loose hips before he’s cursing, his hand slapping the headboard as he clenches it, exhaling your name.

Your only response is to kiss him. His lips are soft and pliant, moving easily against yours now that any tension has leaked out of his body, and you slip a hand between your bodies, desperate to feel as relaxed as him.

“Don’t,” Van slurs. Your fingers had already started tight circles against your clit, but Van bumps your hand away. “Quit, lemme.”

“I can do it,” You huff, your desperation putting you on edge.

“I know you can.” You can hear the amusement in Van’s voice as he pulls out and ties off the condom, leaning over to deposit it in a trash can you didn’t know existed. “But m’not inept either.”

After another impatient huff from you, Van’s fingertips are pressed tight against your clit, working it in loose circles. He doesn’t linger too low and you’re grateful for that, already feeling the tenderness start to catch up to you. He’s careful and precise, hanging onto your every noise as he tries to get it right, and when he succeeds you reward him by calling out his name over, and over, and over.

To your surprise, you open your eyes to Van sticking the fingers he’d touched you with into his mouth without any hesitation.

Your eyes feel like they’re about to bug out of your head. “Why are you doing that?”

There’s a wet noise as Van’s lips release his fingers. “Needed to clean ‘em off.”

“You could’ve asked me to pass you something. The blanket’s right here.” You reach to the floor and grab the soft fabric, showing it to him for emphasis.

Van just looks at you quizzically, cocking his head. “Why would I wipe off on a blanket?”

“I just, y’know,” You flounder for an explanation, especially under Van’s gaze. “If you’re not into the taste, or something. I dunno.”

Van shrugs. “Into your taste just fine.”

You can’t keep the surprise off of your face. “Oh. Alright.”

“I’ll have to show you next time,” Van says with a joking wink before getting up, heading for the bathroom.

As soon as he’s turned his back you bury your face in nearest pillow, beaming into it. Next time.

You sit up straight when you hear the toilet flush, regaining your composure.

When Van comes back into the bedroom he immediately grabs for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter resting on the bedside table. He offers you the box, but this time you shake your head.

“Let’s see how these sheets look,” He says, cigarette bobbing loosely between his lips as he makes the few strides to the bedroom door, lifting the dimmer and illuminating the room.

It feels out of place to be naked with the lights on, and you reach over and grab the throw blanket off of the floor, wrapping it around yourself again as you stand to take your turn using the bathroom. You examine the sheets with Van, and they look no worse for wear except for a slight wet spot marking the spot on the bed where you’d came.

“Just that bit,” You acknowledge, gesturing to the spot. “Sorry.”

Van pulls the cigarette from his mouth, rolling his eyes playfully as he exhales smoke. “It’s nothin’. It’ll be dry in a few seconds. Go freshen up, love.”

Your cheeks heat up at the nickname, and you head for the en suite so Van doesn’t see.

“Do you need anything from downstairs?” You ask after you’ve taken your customary after-sex pee. “I gotta go get my clothes.”

Van’s perched on the remade bed, finishing off his cigarette in only his briefs. “You’re gonna put your clothes back on?”

“I mean, I gotta wear clothes in the Uber,” You joke.

“You don’t have to Uber home,” Van says, ashing the butt of his cigarette out in an ashtray. “I was gonna make us a fry up tomorrow.”

His britishness catches you off guard, and you laugh. “I have no idea what that is.”

“Oh, no way. It’s a big breakfast!” He gestures with his hands, “Eggs, bacon, sausage, the whole works! It’s fucking class. What d’ya say?”

You hold up your hands in playful surrender, even though it causes your blanket to sag. “I was only leaving because I didn’t know what you had going on! But that sounds good.”

You try not to read too much into how pleased Van looks at your agreement to stay.

“But I’ve still gotta go downstairs and get my bag,” You tell him, “So do you still need anything?”

“I’ll go with ya.” Van lights his second cigarette. “Could use a cup of tea.”

You two return to the mess you’ve made of the living room; throw pillows smushed from being under your bodies, clothes strewn on the floor, drinks lukewarm on the table now. Van takes your can of Coke and his empty beer bottle around the corner into the kitchen, while you gather up your clothes and purse before following him.

“Ugh, ready to take these things out,” You complain, fishing through your bag for the contact case you’d packed. You hadn’t wanted to assume Van would want you to stay over, but it was always best to be prepared.

“Take what out?” Van mumbles, turning to look at you from where he was standing over the stove babysitting a tea kettle.

“My contacts.” You open the case up on the island, not bothering to wash your hands before getting the dry lenses out easily with your finger, depositing them in the fresh solution you’d been sure to fill the case with. Van watches the whole spectacle curiously.

Even though your vision is blurry once you’re done sealing the case and putting it back in your bag, you can still see Van’s smirk.

“What?”

“Nothin’,” Van sing-songs, his voice going up an octave. “Seems like you came pretty prepared, s’all.”

You scoff. “I take a contact case with me everywhere, thank you very much,” You lie.

Van snorts. “With the liquid already in it?”

You blanch, caught. Van laughs in delight.

“Oh, shut up,” You huff. “How about you tell me about that breakfast you already planned for us, huh?” You make your way around the island to him, gently jabbing him in the stomach. He pokes you back. It’s tit-for-tat until you’re both laughing, interrupted only by the tea kettle coming to a boil.

By the time you’re back upstairs, Van nursing a warm mug of tea, your post-orgasm exhaustion is at its peak. It had taken all your strength to climb the two flights of stairs, and you don’t think twice about crawling into bed wearing only your underwear until you hear Van fussing with the closet door.

“Here,” He takes a plain black t-shirt off of a hanger, tossing it to you. You accept it graciously, slipping it on before tucking yourself under the sheets, eyelids heavy.

When Van slides into bed next to you he doesn’t seem ready to sleep, picking up his mug of tea instead.

“Jet lagged?” You ask, peering up at him from your spot nestled in his blankets. Everything smells deliciously like him, and you have to actively resist the urge to look like a creep that sniffs everything.

“Kinda,” Van smiles down at you. “Don’t sleep much in general, though. Always been quite hyper.”

His declaration doesn’t surprise you. Considering all the fidgeting, humming, toe-tapping, and fingertip drumming he seems to be doing every moment, you have no doubts about his boundless energy.

“Hm,” You murmur, yawning. “Well, lucky you.” You pat his leg under the blankets before flipping over.

You can’t help but imagine what it might be like to actually see Van tired. What it might be like for him to lay with you in bed, your body wrapped around his. With that on your mind, you doze off quick.

You’re disoriented when you open your eyes, expecting to be in your own bedroom. Instead you’re greeted by the bright L.A. sunlight, the shades pulled across the window seemingly useless in filtering it out.

Van’s not in bed. There’s his mug from last night on the nightstand, and the blankets and pillows are ruffled, but the bathroom is clearly empty.

You’d totally forgotten to ask him for a phone charger last night, something you only remember when you go to check the time only to be greeted with an unresponsive screen.

You decide to climb out of bed and see if Van’s actually following through on his promise of breakfast. It’s foreign to you, wandering around a stranger’s house. You’re usually the type to roll back over and go to sleep until you know for sure other people are awake. You’ve never been the one to make yourself at home, using the kitchen or the television without permission. But considering Van doesn’t seem the type to head back to bed, this seemed like your best bet.

Midway down the first staircase you realize that you don’t have pants on. You could head back upstairs and grab your clothes but decide against it, praying Van’s not the type to have company at this time.

Thankfully Van’s right where you anticipated. You hear his singing ringing out through the living area before you’ve even turned the corner to the kitchen, along with the clatter of pots and pans. The acoustic guitar that had been resting on the bed last night is propped against the coffee table now. He must’ve been up for a while now.

“Hey,” You say softly when you round the corner. It’s only for Van’s benefit, so he’s not startled by your presence, but he doesn’t miss a beat in the song he’s singing, only grinning at you as he continues. You smile to yourself when his back is turned. Of course he’s not one to scare easily.

He’s definitely been to sleep, considering his pillow-mussed hair and the fact he’s still only in his underwear. You admire the way the muscles in his back flex as he scours through the fridge, procuring ingredients.

“What time is it?” You ask, peering around for any sort of microwave or oven clock.

“Half nine,” Van chirps, bumping the fridge door closed with his hip, a carton of eggs and a frozen pack of bacon in his hands.

“Oh.” You intertwine your fingers together. “So, uh. Is that, like, eight-thirty or nine-thirty…?”

“Nine-thirty,” Van elaborates. He glances at you over his shoulder from his position at the counter. “Do you not say that here?”

“I’ve never heard it,” You shrug. Van nods as he processes your answer.

“So, what are you making again?” You stop leaning on the island in favor of approaching the counter, looking over the various foods sitting out. “A stir fry?”

“Well, about that…” Van says sheepishly, opening the carton of eggs. “I was gonna do a whole fry up, but like I said, I haven’t been to the shops in forever. So how do you feel about just eggs, bacon, toast?”

“Sounds lovely,” You tell him, continuing to hover around him.

Van cracks whatever eggs are left in the carton into a mixing bowl, leaving the eggshells in the nearby sink.

“Do you need any help?” You ask, feeling terribly annoying while you just watch.

“Nah.” Van shrugs you off. “Just keep me company.”

“I’ll sit down, then, instead of being in your personal space.”

“You’re gonna sit all the way over there?” Van whines when you tug one of the island stools out to sit on.

“There’s no other place to sit!” You exclaim.

“Right here,” Van slaps his palm down on the counter.

“I don’t have pants on!” You insist. “I’m not gonna put my bare ass on your kitchen counters.”

“I need you over here!” Van argues. “I need someone to help supervise!”

“Then how about I pull the stool closer?” You start to drag your seat over the tile floor.

“Then it’ll just be in the way. Come sit up here and talk to me.”

You pretend to be inconvenienced by his request, sighing as you hoist yourself up on a section of counter not currently being used to prepare food. The marble is cold against the back of your thighs, and you cringe.

You watch Van diligently mix the eggs with some milk using a whisk. With the way his head’s bent, you can see how crooked the part of his hair has become from sleep.

“C’mere,” You gesture. Van looks up from what he’s doing.

“Your hair is driving me nuts,” You elaborate. When he’s looking up at you it’s even more unruly.

Van abandons the mixing bowl, setting it aside in favor of coming to stand in front of you.

“You don’t like my morning hair?” He teases. He lets you maneuver the angle of his head and stands there patiently as you start to pick at the strands.

“Love it,” You assure him, “But if I’m going to supervise I’ve got to make sure you look presentable.” Once his part is sitting correctly you comb your fingers through the ends, managing to get about half of them to lay uniformly. It’s an improvement. You pat his shoulder, satisfied.

When he looks up at you, your faces are awkwardly close.

“Thanks,” Van murmurs, and you watch the way his eyes dart down to your lips before flickering back up. Your hand still hasn’t left his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Is all you manage to say, any witty or funny remarks disintegrating on your tongue. You wait for an interruption, for Van to jerk away and remember the food he needs to tend to. But he doesn’t.

His lips press into yours instead. It’s the first time you guys have kissed without an impending sense of urgency. Van brings his hands up to rest on your waist, his fingertips fidgeting with the hem of your borrowed shirt. You sling your arms around his neck, tugging him closer, savoring every moment.

You spread your knees apart, making space for him to fit his hips between them, pleased to get him even closer.

Van pulls away to breathe and you rest your head on his shoulder, trying to hide your smile. It occurs to you when you turn your face and admire the long lines of his neck that you’ve never paid much attention to it.

You can feel Van melting into your arms as you start at his shoulder and mouthe your way up. You don’t intend to leave any marks, but that doesn’t stop you from letting your teeth graze him a couple times so you can hear the way he sucks the air through his teeth at the feeling. You can feel his pulse right at his jaw, and you press your lips there firmly for a moment, marveling at how his pulse skitters against his skin.

“Christ,” Van murmurs. Your lips curve into a smile where they’re pressed against him.

You’d planned to be done at his jaw, but curiosity gets the better of you and you let your lips travel higher, trying to feel for his pulse behind his ear. The ends of his hair tickle your nose as you search for it, but feeling his heart stutter again is worth it.

When Van can’t take anymore he turns his head, bringing his lips to yours. Your hand comes to rest on the side of the neck and you don’t know if you’re imagining it but Van seems to lean into it. You tense your fingertips, digging them into his skin just slightly, experimentally, and Van deepens the kiss.

You make a small, satisfied noise as you break away from him. “You don’t happen to keep condoms in your kitchen, do you?”

You’d been feeling Van get hard the entire time, but when he pulls away you marvel at how terrible he is at concealing his desire; his pupils are blown, there’s a fresh flush to his cheeks, and his chest is visibly rising with every breath.

“I don’t, no,” He runs his hand through his hair, successfully reversing your attempts to make him look presentable. “I’ll go grab one from my wallet.”

“Hurry,” You urge him, pleased at how quickly he turns to leave the kitchen. He’s still just as handsome from behind, and you marvel at how his briefs hug his ass before he spins, catching you.

“Stop ogling at me!” He teases. You stick your tongue out at him.

With Van gone, it’s just you and the abandoned mixing bowl of eggs alone in the kitchen. You take a deep breath, kick your legs out from the counter awkwardly, and count the seconds until he returns, condom in hand.

“Okay,” He sets the condom down on the counter, and loops his fingers into the waistband of your underwear. “Hips up,” He quips.

You obey, pressing your palms flat against the counter so you can get your hips into the air and Van can get your underwear down. Van tugs his own briefs down his legs easily, kicking them away. You watch them slide across the kitchen tile.

Van opens the condom, giving himself a few quick tugs in preparation to roll it on. At the sight of him you swallow nervously, the visual reminder bringing the ache between your legs to the forefront of your attention.

“Go easy on me, okay?” You laugh, but the slight waver of your voice betrays your nerves. Van’s too smart for any sugarcoating. His blue eyes snap up to meet your gaze, all seriousness, a silent questioning.

You give him a slight smile, crinkling your nose. “I’m sore.”

Realization dawns over him. “Gotcha,” He nods.

Van positions himself between your knees, using his hands on your hips to gently guide you to the edge of the counter.

“I feel like I’m gonna fall off,” You whine. Van only smiles, still looking down at your bodies.

“I need you right here at the edge,” He explains, letting go of you when he’s satisfied.

“You sound like an expert.” It’s a dangerous joke to make, something twisting at your stomach at the sudden thought of other girls having this same kind of morning with Van.

“Not even fucking close,” He assures you, and your stomach unknots.

He works on lining himself up, but you can tell the way your body is curved in order to have your arms wrapped around his shoulders is making an odd angle that’ll be uncomfortable.

“Don’t go yet,” You plead, suddenly desperate to try a different position. He stills, his eyes flickering to yours.

“This angle isn’t gonna work,” You answer his unspoken question. “I think I need to…”

You don’t finish the rest of your sentence, opting to carefully lean back instead. You have to bend your neck to fit under the cabinet, and push a knife block a little off to the side, but eventually your shoulders come to rest on the cool tile of the wall. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least, but it allows your hips to tilt back. Your hands grapple for the most comfortable way to keep yourself from slipping off of the edge of the marble.

Van looks amused. “You good?”

You nod.

“We don’t have to do it in here you know,” He gestures with his hand towards the exit to the kitchen. “I can lay you out on the couch or somethin’.”

“In here’s fine,” You insist. You’d never had kitchen sex before, and your curiosity about the experience was stronger than the ache in your neck.

Van playfully throws his hands up in surrender. “Okay then,” He laughs, before positioning your hips again and lining himself up for the second time. “You ready, then?”

With your eager nod Van slides in. He goes slow, his brow furrowed. You can tell he’s taking your request to be gentle to heart.

He’s careful not to bottom out, and from your position sitting back can see the restraint he’s exercising, how tight and rigid his body stays while he starts thrusting, shallow, slow.

It aches but only slightly, and it’s an incredible reminder of last night. Your hands scrabble against the countertop, desperate for anything to hold on to. They find nothing. There’s nothing you can do except hold as still as possible to keep your balance.

Van’s an absolute vision, the morning sun beaming through through the kitchen and making him glow. You watch the sweat glisten on his chest, the way he looks like he’s so lost in you he wants to close his eyes. He seems determined to keep them open, watching your every expression. You can see the muscles in his stomach flex with each movement, the angle of the sunlight creating a tiny shadow near his bellybutton. It’s too much. You close your eyes.

That only makes it worse, though, only forces you to focus solely on how the movement of him against you feels. You’re forced to lay there, completely still, the image of Van burned behind your eyelids. The pleasure is making you feel like you’re about to crawl out of your skin, and not having an outlet is driving you nuts. You slap your sweaty palm against the countertop. Van doesn’t even flinch.

“Holy shit,” You gasp, tipping your head back against the cool tile, finally opening your eyes to the bottom of the wooden cabinet. “I can’t fucking take this anymore,” You heave.

Van’s forced to stop thrusting when you manage to get your legs around his waist, bringing his hips flush against yours as you work your way back into the sitting position you were originally in before you had the idea to sit back. There’s the uncomfortable tickle in your stomach as the angle changes, and you hope things will work this way. At this point, anything feels better than laying there helplessly.

“Sorry,” You breathe, back to wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a sloppy yet gratifying kiss.

“Don’t be,” Van brings your lips together again. He’s got he slightest bit of stubble growing. It’s too light to be visible, but you feel the slight scratch of it against your lips and bring your palm up to rub your thumb over his jawline, feeling the hairs.

You keep your legs around Van’s waist but relax them enough so that he’s got room to move. He takes it as an invitation, starting to fuck into you again, and makes a noise low in his throat. You can’t decipher if it’s from pleasure or discomfort, but it sounds urgent.

“Okay?” You ask, craning your neck away from where you’d been examining his freckles in extreme detail, getting a full view of his face instead.

“Yeah.”

You raise your eyebrows at how strained his voice sounds.

Van runs his hand through his hair, the strands that hang near his forehead damp with sweat.

You’ve stopped watching his face, your eyes instead wandering to the top of his shoulder, the little freckles that pepper him there. You only see his expression out of your peripheral vision when he finally speaks, his voice low: “It’s fucking tight.”

He sounded hesitant to say it, as if worried you’d take offence, but instead you lean over to start kissing the freckles on his shoulder you’d just longingly gazed at. Your stomach lights up at the way he sounded, vulnerable and maybe shy, different from the ever-confident Van you’re used to. You hide your smile in his neck and breathe in his scent while you’re there.

You could already tell you wouldn’t be able to come in this new position, last night’s ache becoming slightly too pronounced, but you were more than happy to let Van keep going. You spend the time alternating between kissing him deeply and kissing his neck, and letting your hands wander over any bit of his skin you can reach. An orgasm almost sneaks up on you, your thighs tensing of their own accord, but Van gets there first. It’s the quietest he’s ever been, shaking through it breathlessly, head pressed into your neck, your fingers still playing with the ends of his hair, which looks almost blonde in the morning sun.

Van catches your cringe as he pulls out.

“Did it hurt?” He asks, voice rough.

“Nothing serious,” You assure him. “It was worth it.”

He ties the condom off and opens one of the cupboard doors below you, leaning over to deposit it in the trash.

It takes a second for your head to wrap around the way he sinks to his knees suddenly.

“What are you doing?” You sound more frantic than you’d meant to.

“You’re sensitive, yeah?” Van raises his eyebrows at you for confirmation. You nod, stunned to silence.

“This is about as gentle as it gets,” He shrugs. “As long as you’re good with it?”

“Um, yeah,” You stammer. “You could give it a try.”

It’s hard to form words correctly when Van’s face is right between your legs, looking at you in all your after-sex glory. You have to actively resist the urge to squirm away and cover yourself, your cheeks heating in self-consciousness.

If Van notices your discomfort he doesn’t show it, only looking pleased that you’ve given him permission.

You can’t stand watching him lean forward, opting instead to tip your head back towards the ceiling and squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for him to begin.

You tense up when you feel it. Van’s warm breath tickles you before you feel the wet slide of his tongue against you. You jolt. He gives a few more experimental licks, slow and languid, moving around, and your fingers tangle in his hair instinctually.

It’s not that you don’t want it. It’d be a lie to say you’ve never thought back on that night in San Diego and wondered absentmindedly about things taking a different turn in his hotel room. Your sleepy mind curiously twisting the events, wondering if he’d be any good at this.

But as curious as you were, the thing about head is it always just seemed to be a grand waste of time for you. On the very few occasions you’d been on the receiving end, the act had consisted of slimy, uncomfortable exploration with movements too inconsistent to get you anywhere. And worse, it was treated as a gift, one you were inevitably supposed to return. The lackluster results along with the heavy implications meant you tended to keep your distance.

But after some exploration Van seems locked in on his mission. You dare to peer down at him when you feel him start to find a rhythm, one that has your legs opening wider without your control. His eyes are squeezed shut, his nose brushing against you with every lick, and when he exhales hot air you can’t help but shiver.

You let go of his hair, your knuckles aching from your tight grip, but Van makes a noise. It’s too quiet for you to hear, but you jerk as you feel the vibrations against you, the message loud and clear. You rush to grab his hair again, flustered.

The better it starts to feel the more apparent it becomes that he’s in the wrong spot, a different area starting to throb for his attention. Without really thinking about it you use his hair to herd him to the other spot. He’s just licked firmly against it, your legs quivering, when he sits back on his knees.

“Done?” You ask, surprised to hear disappointment in your tone.

“Nah,” Van wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Need a breath.”

Your shoulders sag with a relief you didn’t know you felt.

“How is it?” He croaks, peering up at you.

“Good,” You answer out of habit, before realizing how true it is. “Really, really good.”

“You like the spot I was in?” He inquires, gearing up to keep going. The way he sets his jaw in determination makes your mouth go dry.

“The one higher up,” You clarify, your voice only slightly above a whisper. “Yeah.”

And without further ado he’s back at it, resuming in exactly the same spot, a miracle that leaves you speechless.

There’s nothing unexpected about your orgasm. It’s a steady build, the pressure between your legs becoming more and more unbearable as Van’s tongue works firmly against you. He incorporates his lips in some mysterious way you’ve never experienced, and uses his palms to press your thighs open when you’re too clenched to keep them open yourself. He’s eager to please, treating any noises you let slip as feedback. You moan his name as praise and Van preens under the attention.

It’s a long descent back to Earth, your head spinning when it’s all over. The first thing you realize is that you’re awkwardly petting Van’s hair, smoothing your palms over the strands subconsciously. You pull your hands away as Van leans back, catching his breath.

“Sorry,” You murmur.

“Hm?” Van busies himself wiping his mouth. You can see his chin glistening from you.

Your head’s too foggy to clearly remember why you even said sorry, let alone explain it to Van. “I dunno,” You say instead.

“Can you pass me one of those?” Van asks, gesturing to a roll of paper towel that’s within arm’s reach of you. You rip away a few squares for him and pass them over.

“That went better than expected,” You confess breathlessly.

“Yeah?” Van cocks his head, looking amused. “Thought I wouldn’t be any good?”

“Not at all! I mean- that’s not what I meant,” You giggle, trying to find the right words somewhere in your haze. “I’m just surprised I came. It’s never happened from that.”

Van blinks at you. “No shit?”

“Yeah, I’ve never. Until now. But I don’t really let anyone do that. Swore it off a few years ago.”

“But you let me?”

“I mean, yeah,” You shrug. “I’ve never had anyone, like, want to. I’m not gonna beg for something useless.”

“Never had anyone want to?” Van looks stunned as he uses the edge of the counter to help himself off of his knees. “Who the fuck have you been with?”

It sounds hypothetical, so you don’t answer. Van shakes his head to himself as he leans over, washing his hands in the sink.

“We’ll have to do it again sometime. Properly. That angle was kind of shit.”

You smile. “I mean, I thought it was pretty nice.”

Van smiles too, sliding down the counter so he’s in front of you. He leans in for a kiss, and even though you can taste yourself on his lips you let him.

“It can be better. You just gotta gimme another chance,” He says playfully when you two separate.

He’s joking, but you can hear he’s being genuine underneath.

“I mean, if you want,” You shrug, indifferent.

“Oh, I want,” He assures you with a wink. “Anyway, are you still hungry?”

“I’m starving,” You groan. “But I really need to rinse off, if you don’t mind.”

“Course I don’t mind. I’ll set you up in the bathroom and then get breakfast going for real this time.”

He reaches down for his discarded briefs, slipping them on before leading you back up to his bedroom, getting the shower in the en suite going for you.

Once you’re done showering, smelling like all of Van’s products and wrapped in a giant, fluffy towel, you slip out of the bathroom and into Van’s room. You perch on the edge of his bed, reaching for your phone which has finally powered on with the help of a borrowed charger.

There’s a ton of texts from Mary, her curiosity growing the longer you haven’t responded. You listen closely for any sign of Van, but there’s silence. He’s still in the kitchen working on breakfast. You dial Mary’s number.

“Holy shit, finally!” Mary exclaims down the line. “How was last night?”

“I’m um,” You keep your voice low, still paranoid Van might come upstairs to check on you at any moment. “I’m still here.”

“No fucking way,” Mary hisses. “You stayed the night?”

“Yeah. But hey, listen, I don’t have too long, he’s making breakfast-”

“Breakfast?” Mary interrupts. “Like, what kind of breakfast? He can microwave oatmeal?”

You snort. “No, like a real breakfast! Eggs and stuff.”

“Shut the fuck up. I knew he was perfect the first night we met him!”

“Mary, listen!” You hiss. “I gotta tell you about what just happened!”

“This is gonna be good.”

“Oh, it’s better than good. He’s, like… Wow.”

Read Chapter 3 here

#summer's a knife #catfish and the bottlemen #catb #van mccann #van mccann fic #vanfic #catb fic #van mccann fanfiction

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